#xmas in the lab fic

[meetinginsamarra]

update december 2023

sorted by word count/series

———————

Mutual Attraction 94k , pre ASiP, different first meetings, casefic, pining

The day when a homeless drug addict and a suicidal ex-soldier met was the beginning of something until then unheard-of: Mutual Attraction. Of course, not all was what it looked like in the first place but the days of boredom, loneliness and lack of purpose were history. A case had to be solved, lives had to be saved and a developing relationship had to be tackled.

———————

Here I Am -series, the pornwithoutplot which evolved into pornwithplot with feels and whump

The Toe that didn´t belong 6.9k, Part One

Every time John thought back to the occasion the funny thing was that the first thing he had noticed to be out of place had been a…toe.

The Embers still glow when I´m sober 14,5k, Part Two

When Sherlock woke up the morning after he actually felt good. Which was completely unexpected. Although he was sort of anxious about John´s reaction when he would notice that the punk who did not belong in his bed and who had coaxed him into having shameless sex last night was still there.

Gravity is missing from everything 23.5k, Part Three

People bumped into him, cussing and throwing death glares. Blocking their way, Sherlock stood frozen in a throng of commuters. “Are you high?” one shouted into his vacant face. Funnily enough he actually was not. This was all John´s fault. Inflicting a date on him. To have dinner.

———————

Learn My Scars, 38k, written for whumptober 2022, Serbia and the aftermath

After being thrown down and strangled, Sherlock leaves John in the restaurant, angry and deeply hurt. When John follows Sherlock to 221b, he learns that Sherlock’s scars have not been acquired by “gallivanting around” for two years.

———————

The 13th Book 26.5k,  a magical realism AU with demon Sherlock

Summoning a demon was actually quite simple if you could avoid getting killed in the process. Therefore, only the powerful, the desperate or the stupid would attempt it. John Watson was likely the first, definitely the second but hopefully not one of the third kind.

———————

Wretched and Divine – series punklock and doctor John

Wretched and Divine 5.1k, Part One

Dr. John Watson is on call at the A&E when he attempts to treat a very special patient. Instead he finds himself a very special treat.

The Aftermath is Secondary 19.5k, Part Two

Will John and Sherlock really go on the agreed date in the infamous punkrock club “The Misfit”? Will their sexual tension finally be resolved? Is it really going to be dangerous? And will Sherlock really wear the promised fishnet top? (Oh God, yessss!)

———————

Sherlock’s Secret Laboratory Journal 6k, my outlet for writing cracky hilarious Sherlock, will become a series with adding a chapter for each new experiment

What does a helplessly pining but absolutely clueless Sherlock do in order to woo an oblivious John? He turns to the internet for advice on the art of seduction and notes the experiments in his secret laboratory journal.

Oyster and Mushroom Soup 9k, Sherlock’s latest attempt at seduction, Part 2 of the Secret Lab Journal series

Sherlock’s second try to win over John involves a lot of special cooking recipes.

——————

Slowly Suffocating 9.5k, TLD fix-it, written for whumptober 2023

Getting suffocated took some time. Enough time for Sherlock to ponder what went wrong. Hopefully also long enough for John to arrive and rescue him. Culverton Smith applied more pressure, impatient to turn Sherlock into a dead thing.

———————

Winning a lost bet 8.2k, pole-dancing at the XMas party

A lost bet makes Sherlock and John perform a pole-dance in costumes at the Yard´s Christmas party. It was supposed to be humiliating but instead the couple nailed it.

———————

Until the final breath escapes 1.9k, spooky Halloween fic

In a world turned hostile they hold onto their love until the final breath escapes.

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Sherlock Ficlets for Writing Challenges 20 ficlets under 1000 words

[cloverdaisies]

[🗝️] cloverdaisies’ navigation: the garden

➵ feel free to explore the garden & stay as long as you like ! ♡

[ (* )-my personal favorites / SEARCH! [🔎] FIC LIST SO FAR….. ]

‘TOSS YOUR DIRTY SHOES IN MY WASHING MACHINE HEART’

➵ OT11 / MULTIPLE MEMBERS

nowhere to run ⊹ horror *

— if the landline rings, remember to answer the questions 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. you don’t want to be locked in a house with a masked killer. a tbz au based on & inspired by (scream 1996).

black heart ⊹ thriller

— a mysterious trio rules the night, masked in balaclavas armed with whatever they could get their hands on… one favor can reveal a whole lot more than you expect. this is not your first visit to the black hearted universe.

… NEXT

96’ ➵ SANGYEON

insanity ⊹ angst

— “i want you to make the darkness disappear. i want to drive to crazy. my love is dangerous.”

how to build perfect humans ⊹ thriller / romance * 2.3k

— somewhere in the f u t u r e, undercover agents are trailing the government creation of microchips, inserted into the human brain to collect information in order create a generation of ai that will infiltrate and eventually eliminate all need for the last survivors of the human race. time is ticking…

… NEXT

97’ ➵ YOUNGHOON

gingerbread man ⊹˚. fluff / 0.8k

— “a late night stroll through the xmas markets with boyfriend!younghoon, carols being sung in the distance, the smell of freshly baked gingerbread men and children building snowmen nearby; the feeling of christmas.”

… NEXT

97’ ➵ HYUNJAE

hey chat! ⊹ fluff / streamer au

— two streamers get paired to win a competition between their fellow streamers! most popular man on the app, jae.mp3 ! gets paired with smaller streamer y.n.xi ! will they win? or will they not be able to work together at all? let’s see how they get on! <3

… NEXT

98’ ➵ JUYEON

slow it down ⊹ thriller

— hi (your name) you’ve been invited to play RACEFORTIME! do you accept yes or no? nerve au

nearly witches ⊹ angst

christmas lights ⊹ angst / fluff / 2k+

— the city was lonely, as they say home is where the heart is. as you return to see your childhood friends for the annual christmas get together, old faces resurface unhealed wounds that you wish you could rewind

series: genesis angst / fluff / post apocalyptic au

— ‘the world was destroyed by nuclear warfare, 177 years later the only survivors were those living in a large system of underground bunkers, with food supply running short and rationing proving no longer effective. the higher council decide to send the younger generation of juveniles to the surface to test the earth’s survivability.’

… NEXT

98’ ➵ KEVIN

earth to kevin ⊹ fluff / safe place au

— the boy that lives in outerspace has to make contact with the real world eventually, this short piece documents his small amount of contact with earth. when someone with a raincloud over their world collides with someone that lives in complete disassociation from reality.

… NEXT

98’ ➵ CHANHEE

# ur such an emo! ⊹˚. angst / fluff * / 4.1k+

— “a preppy boy meets his unconventional match in one of the school’s most hated emo’s. from lab partners to cleaning buddies: the events that caused social royalty to fall in love with someone from the very bottom of the high school food chain.”

… NEXT

98’ ➵ CHANGMIN

wish you were sober ⊹ angst / suggestive.

— “nineteen but you act 25 now. real sweet but i wish you were sober.” a ji changmin very lightly suggestive? angst? based on conan gray’s wish you were sober.

art class ⊹ fluff * 5k+

—“your crush on your art professor might be affecting your grades, he was just perfect but you’re just a student. how you accidentally fell in love with art class for the wrong reasons…”

… NEXT

00’ ➵ SUNWOO

media studies ⊹ fluff / diary au

— this document contains a letter to the pretty boy who sits quietly in the back of a poorly lit media studies classroom. ☆

fantasize ⊹ suggestive

— “i fantasize about it all the time if you were mine.. ♪” there was something about your coworker that made you want him, maybe it was his cherry red lips or every charming word that slipped from them - whatever it was, you couldn’t resist. ʚїɞ

piece of string ⊹ fluff

— dear sunwoo, autumn nights are always better when they’re spent with you. please don’t hide yourself, you know you’re safe with me.

… NEXT

00’ ➵ ERIC

trouble to me ⊹ suggestive ish

— should’ve known he was a bad guy, maybe all the red flags would be a good sign? are you really gonna let eric sohn take you on a test drive?

how to survive senior year ⊹˚. fluff * 5k+

— a chaotic how to guide on surviving high school with an 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 crush on the skater boy with the locker next to urs.

COMING SOON…

97’ ➵ JACOB

𝗈𝗈𝗉𝗌 ! 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝗍!

99’ ➵ HAKNYEON

𝗈𝗈𝗉𝗌 ! 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝗍!

‘I KNOW WHO YOU PRETEND I AM’

I KNOW.. WHO YOU PRETEND I AM’

[bookgeekgrrl]

My media this week (17-23 Dec 2023)

shout out to matt rogers for this delightful new entry to the xmas song canon

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

🥰 Bookshops & Bonedust (Legends & Lattes #0) (Travis Baldree, author & narrator) - prequel novel of Viv's much younger days - just as fun and cozy as Legends & Lattes

🥰 Hashtag Soulmates (everwitch) - 44K, RWRB AU - deliberately tropetastic sort-of meta fic where Henry's a fanfic writer & Alex is one of his biggest fans and they work together but don't know it. Hard to explain but fun to read. Good stuff on the nature of fanfic; also hilarious bits where it walks right up to the crackfic line but doesn't go over. I really enjoyed reading something the author so clearly had a blast writing.

😊 In the Form of a Question: The Joys and Rewards of a Curious Life (Amy Schneider, author & narrator) - entertaining read

😍 Tommy Cabot Was Here (The Cabots #1) (Cat Sebastian) - reread, novella; just really in a mood to reread in this universe! Hadn't read this since I read Daniel's book, so it was fun to see him guest star as a 12 yr old

😍 Peter Cabot Gets Lost (The Cabots #2) (Cat Sebastian) - reread; I love all the Cabots but this one is my #1 fave by a smidge. The grumpy/sunshine is *chef's kiss*!

😍 Daniel Cabot Puts Down Roots (The Cabots #3) (Cat Sebastian) - reread; Alex & Daniel are actually dating but too oblivious (and busy pining in silence) to realize it. I love these dumbasses.

😍 Luke and Billy Finally Get a Clue (The Cabots #3.5) (Cat Sebastian) - reread, set in the Cabots 'verse but with no Cabots in sight. Just two baseball boys pulling their heads out of their asses and figuring out what they mean to one another.

💖💖 +102K of shorter fic 💖💖

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Game Changer - s5, e6

Make Some Noise - s2, e15

Dirty Laundry - s3, e8

D20: Fantasy High: Sophmore Year - e16-20

Star Trek: Strange New Worlds - s1, e1-6

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

It's Been a Minute - The IBAMmys: The It's Been A Minute 2023 Culture Awards Show

Today, Explained - EU vs. AI

Pop Culture Happy Hour - Songs To Help You Study

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - A Return to Recipe Graves

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Old City Hall Station

⭐ Switched on Pop - "Did I mention that it's Christmas in this club?" (w Matt Rogers)

The Sporkful - New Year’s Food Resolutions 2024

Today, Explained - How Barnes & Noble survived

Big Gay Fiction Podcast - "Time to Shine" with Rachel Reid

Las Culturistas with Matt Rogers and Bowen Yang - “They Couldn’t Be Nicer Boys” (w/ Seth Meyers)

NPR's Book of the Day - 'Black AF History' examines American history from the perspective of Black people

Code Switch - Here are our favorite Code Switch episodes from 2023

Ed Zitron's 15 Minutes In Hell - Episode 20: Jamelle Bouie

Ologies with Alie Ward - Lemurology (LEMURS) with Lydia Greene

99% Invisible #564 - Mini-Stories: Volume 17

Today, Explained - The stretched-too-thin blue line

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Sniffing out What’s Special with Saskia Wilson Brown

One Year - 1990: The Angry Death of Kimberly Bergalis

Las Culturistas with Matt Rogers and Bowen Yang - "You Can't Trust These Gay Guys"

⭐ Films To Be Buried With - Leslie Jones

Dear Prudence - My Mother-In-Law Doesn’t Wash Her Hands After Using The Bathroom. Help!

Cautionary Tales - When Stalin Killed the Weekend (with The Happiness Lab)

Our Opinions Are Correct - How Doctor Who Stood the Test of Time

Our Opinions Are Correct - BONUS: If You Could Turn Into Any Form of Transportation, What Would You Pick?

It's Been a Minute - Why does flying suck so much?

Off Menu - Ep 217: Ross Noble (Christmas Special)

⭐ Song Exploder - Foo Fighters "The Teacher"

⭐ Overinvested - Ep. 290: The Cutting Edge

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

my christmas playlist

Celtic Christmas

The Beach Boys' Christmas Album [The Beach Boys] {1964}

Merry Axemas & Merry Axemas 2

Orchestral Christmas Pops

Latin Jazz Christmas

Punk Rock Christmas

Lindsey Stirling Christmas

Orchestral Holiday Pops

It's a Holiday Soul Party [Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings] {2015}

my Christmas Divas playlist

Have You Heard of Christmas? [Matt Rogers] {2023}

Simply Christmas [Leslie Odom Jr.] {2016}

The Christmas Album [Leslie Odom Jr.] {2020}

Christmas With You [Laufey & Norah Jones] {2023}

Christmas Island [Jimmy Buffett] {1996}

'Tis The SeaSon [Jimmy Buffett] {2016}

Quality Street: A Seasonal Selection for All the Family [Nick Lowe] {2013}

The Muppet Christmas Carol (Special Anniversary Edition) {2005}

Punk Rock Christmas

Classical Christmas

Rock & Roll Christmas

[celestiarambles]

OH MY GOD YES HAHAHA compared to how carmen treats lars, angela’s actually really chill!!

a scene that i can use as an example was the bureau xmas party scene. in fanon/some fics, when jack says that he “wants to sit on lars’ lap”, some people would portray angela going berserk and saying “lars is mine!!” or something like that

when in reality/ACTUAL CANON, jack says that and while it is kinda implied that she and lars overheard it, (bcs lars shows up, acts like santa and gives jack his gift and then angela also goes “since we’re giving gifts now…” then gives lars her gift) she literally doesn’t say anything about jack’s remark. she just… GIVES LARS HER GIFT. (and it’s a handmade matryoshka doll of him too!!)

and she even lets jack have movie nights with lars and babysit the triplets!!

also, in the sahara region where lars mummifies the chicken that angela’s supposed to cook for dinner, she’s a little disappointed at first but she lets it go, and she even TAKES A PICTURE OF HIM WITH THE MUMMIFIED CHICKEN TO SEND TO THEIR DAUGHTERS.

hell even when we first meet them, angela doesn’t even get mad at lars for BLOWING UP HIS LAB. she just goes “hi this is my husband, he works in forensics and he would occasionally blow things up from time to time” xD

compared to how people mischaracterize her, angela’s actually really chill! i really don’t understand why she’s portrayed as this obsessive yandere just because she did bad things under the name of sombra

ok, i am as angelars and jars shipper. I feel like people need to learn more about angela and stop mischaracterized her and they say "I hate angela for what she did"

you can dislike/hate angela for her crimes because i also do agree too but disliking to give an excuse to mischaracterized her as a "yandere obsessed, abusive ex-wife of lars" was...kind of childish...

angela still love her family though and like no..she will NOT be anti-homo to jack and lars and jack is not "uwu kitten" and lars will not leave her for jack.

i'm not trying sounds rude but i wanna explain more

i'm not very good at english at that much because it wasn't my first language and i'm trying to learn more so sorry if there's an error, you can correct me or help fill the information for me in the comment!

[lostinfic]

Christmas Eve (stuck) in the Lab

Chapters 1-7/10ish

Summary: Dr. John Smith and Rose Tyler both work at the Natural History Museum in London, he as a scientist in the labs, and she as a salesgirl in the gift shop. They are only friends, but the upcoming staff Christmas party promises developments they’ve both been longing for. But John and Rose end up stuck with Martha, Donna and Jack in the laboratory, and shenanigans ensue: decontamination showers, cocktails in beakers, a game of truth-or-dare and a Secret Santa rigged by meddling friends.

Tags: mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff with light angst, found family

Rating: Teen (for now)

@doctorroseprompts​

Many thanks to the lovely and generous @onthedriftinthetardis​ for the beta.

Ao3

❄ 

Prologue - May

Rose got off the bus in South Kensington and nearly ran into a passerby.

“Rose?”

“Shareen?” She barely recognized her old friend, she looked so grown-up with her cinched trench coat and laptop bag. “How are you?”

“I’m great. I’m on my way to university. Last exam of the semester, and then graduation.” She crossed her fingers with a hopeful smile.

“Wow. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. You?”

“Oh, I’ve a job interview.”

One look at Rose’s jeans and hoodie told Shareen the kind of job it might be.

Rose lowered her head and bunched her sleeves over her hands.

You were right about Jimmy, Rose wanted to say, I shouldn’t have chosen him over my friends.

“We should do something, sometime,” Shareen said, her smile conveyed pity rather than affection.

Rose nodded, though she knew it wouldn’t happen. They wished each other good luck and went in opposite directions.

As soon as she had her back to Shareen, she lost her smile. That could’ve been me too, she thought. She shook her head; nah, I wasn’t made for university.

Around the corner, the Natural History Museum loomed, cathedral-like, with its two towers framing the main hall and the large arch above the entrance. On the East and West wings, two storeys of Romanesque windows reflected the grey sky. Lions, bats, wolves and pterodactyls carved in stone looked down at her from their perches on the facade.

Rose avoided their stony glares.

She was interviewing to work in the gift shop, no reason to feel intimidated by this great institution.

She took a deep breath, then entered the Museum.

In Hintze hall, the skeleton of a blue whale hung from the ceiling, suspended mid-swim, gigantic yet tranquil. Underneath, groups of school children walked single file, bumping into each other, distracted by the grandiose hall. Clusters of visitors, map in hand, planned their visit and photographed each other.

Something about the echo of footsteps and chatter, and the way sunlight streamed through the glass roof took her right back to her childhood. Even then, she knew Jackie brought her here so often because it was free. They would spend hours here in winter, leaving the flat unheated to save on electricity. But she didn’t care, she loved it.

Tears pricked her eyes as she remembered how curious and full of wonder she used to be as a child. She longed to be that girl again.

Oh, but she really wanted to get this job now.

❄

Standing in a corner of the gift shop, Lilian, the manager, gave Rose’s resume a cursory look.

“Band manager? For three years?”

“Yes, I booked gigs in clubs, oversaw the budget of the tours, and managed the promotional merchandise.”

And did all the laundry and the cooking and the cleaning, turned a blind eye to his drugs and alcohol use, and believed him when he said the other girls didn’t mean anything to him. 

Three years of living for someone else’s dreams.

“Your last job was at Henrick’s. Only six months. Why did you stop working there?”

Rose mimed an explosion.

To be honest, she might have blown up the place herself if someone else hadn’t beat her to it. Bunch of snobs, they were.

“Oh, right.” Lilian laughed and placed a check mark on her form. “Now let’s see your customer service skills.”

Unbeknownst to Rose, the museum, a centuries-old, respected institution dedicated to science was home to one messy-haired, Converse-wearing, chaotic genius who loved a little shop.

“Oh no, not him,” Lilian said, but too late, Rose was already walking toward him with a big smile on.

“Hello—” she eyed the badge attached to the breast pocket of his lab coat— “Doctor. How may I help you today?”

He was scanning a display of rubber figurines. He grabbed two miniatures of prehistoric mammals.

“They’re two for one,” she tried.

“What was the smilodon doing on the territory of the diprotodon?”

He moved the tiger-like figurine toward the bear-like one. He stared at them as if they would talk to him and reveal their secrets.

Rose bit her thumbnail. Did he really expect an answer? Was this part of the interview?

“Maybe he was looking for food?” she ventured.

“Kilometres away from his home?”

“I’d walk miles for the best chips.”

He grinned and looked at her, properly, for the first time. There wasn’t a trace of mockery in his smile, only genuine delight. She found herself smiling back.

Suddenly, he gasped.

“Yes! Chips!”

He spun on his heels and rushed out of the shop.

Lilian patted Rose on the shoulder. “I don’t know how you did that, but you’re hired.”

“I think I just let him just steal those figurines.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll put it on his tab.”

Rose sighed with relief and thanked Lilian.

“So, who was that?”

“Doctor John Smith, he’s the research leader at the Ancient DNA lab. The youngest one in the lab’s history, I’m told, hired before he’d even finished his doctorate.”

“Really? He’s a nutter.”

“Oh yeah, but harmless overall.”

❄

Over the months following Rose’s hiring, the frequency of the Doctor’s visits to the shop increased. Her coworkers even began to tease her about it.

He would show up and babble about multiplex sequencing of mitochondrial genomes or rant about sample degradation of human remains in the field.

Rose didn’t understand everything but got a kick out of his wild gesticulation and experiments with items from the shop. She would ask him questions, and sometimes they would be the right ones to help him out.

Although she was becoming fast friends with many museum employees, of all her new acquaintances, the Doctor was her favourite.

She didn’t know him — not really. But what she knew, she liked. She liked the way he treated everyone with respect, from the janitors to the curators. Although he had his moments of bad mood and anger, he found joy in every little thing. It was contagious. They spurred each other on, it seemed. They raced wind-up toys from the shop after hours, gave silly names to specimens in the exhibitions, pranked the tour guides and hid treats for the kids staying overnight for Dino-snores. But that’s the thing, they only ever saw each other at the museum. The closest thing to a date they had was attending the same lecture one night in November. His hand had brushed hers on the armrest.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed on days he didn’t show up. But Rose refused to read more into his behaviour than there was. She had made that mistake before, seeing love where it wasn’t, and stayed in an unhealthy relationship. So, until proven otherwise, the Doctor was just an eccentric bloke who came to her when he was bored or stuck.

Read more on Ao3

[earnestly-endlessly]

ah and I was looking for something like Charles Linda of lost control over his powers and Erik is the only one that can help him

Hi anon. I have got a good list of fics where Charles loses control over his powers and gets help from Erik. I hope you find some fics you enjoy.

Anchor Me – brilliantdreams

Summary: Charles is awake in the kitchen having telepathy troubles when Erik finds him. Cuddling ensues.

Cotton Walls – walrusface

Summary: In large crowds, Charles finds it difficult to control his telepathy. While they're on their recruitment road trip, Erik tries to help.

Aches and Pains – i_know_its_over

Summary: Constantly using his powers gives Charles a debilitating headache.

Idiot Control Now – cygnaut

Summary: Hank screws something up in the lab and everyone's powers increase tenfold. Not knowing how to control them like this, they all try to cope and not kill each other by mistake while Hank tries to find a way to reverse the effects. Charles has a particularly hard time of it.

With Your Kindness – helens78

Summary: Cerebro takes a lot out of Charles; a warm bath complete with washing his hair feels like the least Erik can do, but if it's all he can offer, he will.

Know That It’s True – luninosity

Summary: Using Cerebro gives Charles headaches. Erik is not happy to discover this fact.

Catch me when I fall – isabeau

Summary: Charles overdoes it on Cerebro, and doesn't learn his lesson, but Erik is there for him.

You want blood, and I promised – hllfire

Summary: When Erik kills Shaw with that coin, Charles doesn't come out of it unharmed.

Say Your Fault – seperis

Summary: Charles hasn't spoken in twenty-two days.

Honest Bone and Burning Thought – Black_Betty

Summary: And so sometimes, his mind buzzing away, bright and brilliant and humming with pure expansive energy, Charles speaks without thinking at all. Without censoring himself. Without realizing that his brain has reached out and snatched something that was never his to know, or take…

Don’t Let The Bedbugs Bite – Pillow_Bee

Summary: Charles goes around the mansion that first night he brought the mutants there to tuck them to sleep while trying his best to hold back a bitter childhood memory. Erik has his book confiscated for refusing to go to bed, and he is not happy about it.

Let your anger anchor you (your peace will bring me home) – anthora09

Summary: Charles takes an unnecessary risk and winds up in the infirmary.

Erik is not happy. (His exact words are "I told you so.")

Count to Three – Harleydoll 

Summary: Charles is psychologically damaged after experiencing Shaw's death in his own mind.

I can’t leave him – sasha_b

Summary: The plane ride back from Russia.

In the Sky Tonight – luninosity

Summary: Part five of the holiday fic involves Easter, which obviously meant obligatory sex-pollen-trope fic. Recruitment road-trips, mutants with interesting abilities, sex with complicated emotions, protective Erik, boys figuring out that they’re in love.

Veiled Truths – ikeracity

Summary: Erik has dreams of a dark room, of being pushed down into the floor and violated in a way that makes him scream until his throat is raw. But Shaw never, ever touched him like that, so Erik wonders if he somehow repressed memories of Shaw's torture. Either way, he hides the dreams from Charles, intent on suffering through it alone, as he always has.

And then one day, the nightmares come when he's still awake, and he realizes that these aren't his nightmares, they're Charles's. It's Charles projecting in his sleep, and then Erik realizes that they aren't nightmares at all, they're memories from Charles's hidden past.

The Keeper on the Other Side – RyuuzaKochou

Summary: Charles Xavier's long lost step brother is back in town and it...doesn't go well. Charles and Erik find out they are still bonded and still friends from the hospital bed aftermath.

Northern Lights – garrideb

Summary: Erik experiences a frightening new aspect of Charles's telepathy while rescuing him from captivity. But while it might frighten Erik, that doesn't mean he'll run away from Charles.

Five Days – cerebel

Summary: Charles is captured. And then he is rescued.

Come Home to Me – ami_ven

Summary: “Focus on my voice, Charles, on my mind.”

Room and Board – smilebackwards

Summary: "How long had you been banging your head against the wall before I arrived?" Erik asks curiously after the resident nurse has lain Charles down on a cot and given him two ibuprofen to swallow and an icepack to hold against his head. Boarding school AU.

Enervate – tokidokifish

Summary:  Charles had an abusive childhood (like in the comics, but worse) and when he finally got away, he repressed everything behind mental walls, to the point he doesn't really remember anything about it. After the events of the movie, his mental state deteriorates, and those walls come down.

In These Shadowed Halls – InkDippedFingertips

Summary: For Charles, the mansion was plagued with nightmares.

Waves Can Sink and Carry – Somnambulist

Summary: After a solo recruiting mission goes horribly wrong, a drugged and disoriented (and VERY cold) Charles shows up on the Xavier mansion doorstep. Erik patches him up as best as he can.

Third time’s the charm – Gerec

Summary: XMA ficlets and missing scenes

I’ll be your haven – inoue6

Summary: After Apocalypse used Charles to deliver his message to the world his powers grew beyond control. When Battle of Cairo was over, Erik helps Charles to cope with his telepathy let loose.

[lightneverfades]

Invasion Fic AU - Frostiron (Tony/Loki)

Frostiron Holiday Wishes Challenge ❆ 🎅🎄 Prompt by @kimmycup Fic written by @worstloki Note: AH! So sorry this is a late post, tumblr messed up and I didn’t receive this on Xmas day! Ah! Thank you @worstloki for resending! TwT <3333 Edited the post! Sorry! 

Wish (Prompt/Idea): Invasion fic where Tony figures out Loki was mind controlled before Loki does: "But I WAS in control. Thanos didn't control me like I did Clint." "Yeah sure. And if you wanted to take over the world, what would you do?" Loki spluttered, fully aware that plan was dumb. Still, he would KNOW if he were controlled... Right? "But I wasn't mind controlled! It was me!"

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll have that drink now,” Loki says, his lips turning up in a half-smirk as he looks up at his assailants, posing with their weapons drawn and faces straight.

Honestly, Loki finds their confidence to be presumptuously astounding.

“Alright everyone, let’s pack it up, we can stand around posing up a storm later,” Tony says, breaking everyone into motion. “And you,” he says, pointing to Loki, “I could use your help outside with the portal thing.”

Loki blinks, and slowly turns his head to the side to ensure no one is behind him. There isn’t. It would appear the Midgardian is mad and indeed addressing him.

He clears his throat. “I’m afraid I misheard you, did you just ask for my help?”

“Yeah, Stark,” Clint butts in, “what the f*ck, dude.”

“I thought we were clear on the mind-control thing?” Tony asks the room, receiving the Avenger’s blank stares.

“Oh, come on, did none of you notice the wisecrack? That’s drastically different behaviour from evil monologues and your typical vengeance comment!” Tony argues, only to be met with silence.

“Not to mention the eye colour is a few shades more green-blue instead of just plain blue-green.”

He is met with silence again.

“What I’m getting from this, Stark,” Steve says, carefully, “is that you spent an uncharacteristic amount of time staring into his eyes.”

“Also, there was no mind-control involved,” Loki pointes out, “I acted of my own volition, and you’d think I would remember the sceptre being held out to me, so where are my handcuffs?”

Thor begins to walk over, but Tony holds a hand out. “Woah woah woah big guy, no handcuffs just yet, and the mind-sceptre can most definitely meddle with memories since Thor said he didn’t push Loki into any abyss, and I’m like 99% sure he’s innocent, give or take that last 1%.”  

“I’m sorry, did you say ‘no handcuffs just yet’?” Natasha points out. 

“So you do think he’s guilty of something.” 

“Yeah, of stealing my heart, next question Blank Widow.”  

Bruce rubs his hands over his face, “Tony, please tell me you’re not defending the guy because you think he’s pretty.” 

“Not pretty!” Tony clarifies, “Also hot and very fashionable.” 

Thor coughs. “I’m putting the handcuffs on now.” 

“Loki!” Tony says, pointing dramatically at aforementioned supposed criminal, “trivia time: if you were going to take over this planet how would you do it?” “I— “ Loki closes his mouth.  

“How would you do it?” Tony repeats. 

“Not like this,” Loki sighs, “probably starting with a gradual integration as pre-existing governing figures, and, if I was in a rush and had to use the army, I would get the entirety of it transported covertly and break it into divisions to attack various locations at once for maximum global disarray, at which point a unified governing system would be the only logical form of defense.” 

Tony looks to the other Avengers with an expression of ‘See? He’s not an idiot, give him some credit for this lousy excuse of an invasion.’ 

“This doesn’t prove anything!” Loki complains, crossing his arms. “The tiny wormhole over Stark Tower sounded good at the time.” 

“Mmm,” Tony hums, “Yeah, everyone carry on packing things up, Loki get over there and help move the portal-machine to my lab, I’m going to head down and compile all the HD images SHIELD surveillance can get of how terrible you looked when you first arrived on Earth to prove torture.”  

Loki sputters, “I know the plan was dumb, but it was all me! It wasn’t like with Clint and Selvig, I was in control of my actions! You can’t prove I’m innocent, and if you try, I’ll plead guilty!” 

“Lokes, I love that you’re so ready to take the fall, and maybe you’re feeling bad about what you did and think you deserve it, but I’m taking your case, and you’re not going to plead anything,” —Tony gestures to Thor— “because Shazam over here has a gag.” 

“That’s not allowed, legally speaking,” Steve points out. 

“I was kidding, relax, it’s his word against a yatch-load of evidence to the contrary.” 

“I wasn’t mind controlled,” Loki mumbles, rolling his eyes.  

“You were totally mind controlled,” Tony mumbles in return.  

Only one of them has evidence supporting their mumbling. 

[glynnisi]

ShieldShock Holiday Fic 2020       FOR  @ava-rosier      

At Ao3:  Snowbound Christmas

Prompts:

-There's only one hotel room left and it's a blizzard outside and There Is Only One Bed.

-Either at a Mall or an Airport during the busy holiday season, a villain is trying to steal/ruin the holidays and Steve and Darcy, who are both there for Reasons, team up to foil the dastardly plot.

-When Darcy wore her new, risqué Captain America xmas/holiday sweater to work that day, she didn't expect that he would actually...y'know...SEE it.

---

So, it’s been a while since I wrote. Hi, friends!!! :)  But I adore ShieldShock still and will always adore @mcgregorswench and the ShieldShock Holiday Fic Exchange.  I tried to capture the feel of your prompts, @ava-rosier .  I’ve done holiday in the airport before but can NEVAH get too much of THERE IS ONLY ONE BED.  Hope you’re having a wonderful holiday, enjoying seeing 2020 finally end, and that you’ll enjoy your ShieldShock holiday fic gift!!! :)

---

Snowbound Christmas

Darcy startled as the car door scraped open over deep snow and a gust of wind blew in to steal her breath. It was even colder than the previous times. Steve could move fast, but not faster than the blizzard winds. He shook his head as he slammed the door closed behind him, sealing them in the relative calm. The only sound at first was the rustle of her shivering. He turned the car on again and they both savored relief as the air around them warmed.

She shifted position in her seat. “Steve, my friend! No room in the Inn?” Darcy tried to sound upbeat rather than weary. “I’d so hoped the eleventh try would be the charm. I mean, those two were raved over in Google as ‘simple’ and ‘budget’. You wouldn’t think that would draw a crowd.” She continued to watch the snow fall, eyes going out of focus.

Steve shook his head and pushed his snow-damp hair back. “I tried all five places in the village. Cut across town on foot rather than wasting gas.” He frowned. “I’m too stubborn. Should ‘a stopped twenty miles back where there were more possibilities. I’m sorry, Darcy.” He kept his eyes on the road as he started slowly moving. The snow was falling hard, gusting winds whipping it around them with abandon. Even with four-wheel drive, good snow tires, and perfect reflexes- Steve didn’t dare go more than fifteen miles per hour. Driving was hazardous, more by the minute.

Darcy shrugged her shoulders. “The forecast was off. I thought we had more time before it got bad, too. I swear! I only closed my eyes for like twenty seconds. When I opened them again it looked like I’d missed seeing three inches fall. You must be freezing. The other motels are two miles away, aren’t they?” She shivered, both sympathetically and because the car was still warming up.

“I’ll be fine.” Steve sighed again and glanced at Darcy’s phone before staring ahead of them again. “Any other ideas?”

Darcy squinched up her features, “well…” She was glad Steve focused his attention on the road. She worried that her idea wouldn’t be well received. “We could ask the others for suggestions? Surely Tony owns something between here and the City.” Darcy held her breath. She’d seen Steve and Tony clash at the Avengers Upstate Base enough to know that he didn’t want to ask Tony’s help.

Steve reached in his jacket pocket and handed his phone to Darcy, groaning in resignation. “Had the same thought. See if he’s replied?” He steeled himself.

Darcy laughed merrily as she read his incoming texts.

“That bad?” Steve’s frown lines deepened.

Darcy’s lips twitched. “Nah, buddy-o. Tony’s busting your chops about being a damsel in distress. He reminds you that he’s been away from Pepper for a week and has injuries to rest up from. Says to cool your heels at a summer lake cabin of hers. Coordinates and key code provided. And to resist the urge to crash dramatically into the lake as it wouldn’t be very festive of you. Cabin can be drafty, but was cleaned recently. Which, yay! They were going to come up last week for a dating anniversary celebration before the weather changed and he took that mission.”

Steve nodded and blew out an impatient breath. He glanced at Darcy again, “does anyone other than Jane know you’re with me?” His tone sounded wary.

Again, Darcy shrugged and avoided his gaze. “I dunno. If the local mechanic didn’t have sick kids at home, I’d be driving myself through this like I planned. Probably would’ve crashed in a snow drift by now or be caught in the sadly-parked madness on the interstate you were smart enough to skip. Why? I’m sorry that coming for me put you behind schedule. You’re too kind, putting yourself out for little ole me. You probably have plans with close friends, or something.” She trailed off, uncertain if that was a fair assumption regarding Steve. As much time as they’d spent together since they met over a year before, he seemed to always be working.

Darcy frowned, sad for Steve. And for herself. She’d tried in vain to shake the crush she had on the loneliest Avenger. He seemed determined to stay lonely and fill his time almost entirely with work. Whenever he came to Jane’s lab, she struggled not to let her extreme thirst for him show. She ended up babbling most times, griping about stuff and talking nonsense. He came by the lab a lot, so she had many embarrassing memories to cringe about.

“Not really. And don’t apologize, Darcy. I wanted to help you. I’m glad you’re with me rather than stuck, or worse.” Steve chose to ignore part of her question for the moment. “I was just going by Tony and Pepper’s party at the Tower to keep some peace between us. Then I figured I might go to Brooklyn to see the crazy lights they put up there these days, and then maybe head down to D.C. to see Sam. Nothing firm. No big deal.” He turned into a skid and eased up on the gas. Anyone else would have registered alarm at the need to maneuver like that. The majority of drivers would have wrecked. Sleet mixed in with the precipitation.

Darcy nodded, silent. She clicked on the coordinates Tony had sent and turned up the volume on the phone directions. When there was a pause, she spoke up, “still sorry to keep you from your party, lights, and Sam. I’m relieved that you weren’t just planning to ignore the holiday at the Upstate Base again this year, though. No offense, but hearing you did that last year made me mad at you.” She let out an indignant huff and blinked back tears.

He raised his brows, but didn’t reply at first. Finally, not wanting to seem rude, Steve asked, “mad? Why?” He fought against both flickers of hope and melancholy.

Steve tried not to wish for what he believed he couldn’t have. He’d found that Darcy won friends easily, but rarely let anyone get close enough to know her the way he’d like to know her. She kept things light and funny, using her humor as a shield against intimacy.  He admired her ability to deflect when she used it with others, lamented it when she used it with him.

The first day they met, Steve fell hard for the brash, strong-willed, funny, gorgeous dame. And then he met her boyfriend, Ian. Even after that relationship ended, Darcy made it crystal clear that she saw Steve only as a friend. Her emotional shield pushed him back like the strongest of force fields. She bristled if he held a door or pulled out a chair for her. She acted like it was weird if he did anything for her- like bringing her coffee when he was getting some for himself in Jane’s lab.

Also, there was Darcy’s apparent dislike of soldiers. She cursed agents and soldiers as ‘jack-booted thugs’ every time a piece Jane’s equipment misbehaved. He’d overheard Darcy rant to Jane about her sister’s hard life with a military guy Darcy disdained as ‘Soldier Boy’. Steve was a soldier. He'd never regretted it until it came between him and the only 21st century woman he’d met who captivated him.

Her tone as she spoke next brought Steve out of his reverie. “I know that those you love from your time were more like family to you… that you still mourn all you lost.” Darcy avoided looking at Steve, “But, I consider you a friend and I don’t like for anyone to treat my friends bad… especially, themselves. Thinking of you doing busy work and walking echoing halls alone. Imagining you eating frozen dinners and training alone while the rest of the world celebrated? Too sad. Awful. I wish you would’ve let me, I mean, someone, anyone, know that you didn’t have plans.” Darcy swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. She’d held that in for the better part of a year and was terrified that she’d overstepped enough to anger Steve. If her voice sounded brittle, she couldn’t help it. Her feelings for Steve ran deep. She’d taken one look at Steve Rogers and lost her heart irrevocably.

Steve shook his head and joked to offer one correction, “I hardly ever eat frozen dinners.” He cleared his throat. “What did you do for Christmas last year?” Steve’s tone was mild, unreadable. He’d spent a lot of the previous year’s holiday week reliving the pain of seeing Darcy being kissed by Ian under mistletoe. It was a harsh blow since he’d heard rumors that they’d broken up and dared hope for a chance with her. Thinking of that terrible moment still filled Steve with potent jealousy.

Darcy cut a glance Steve’s way. “I went to the usual lame lab holiday party, complete with joke gifts and too much mistletoe. Then, un-fun family time. As soon as I could escape my dumb sister Beth and ‘Soldier Boy’, I got back to Jane’s. I made Thor watch Christmas cartoons while I struggled to explain the pop nuances of them to him. We drank eggnog. I exchanged joke gifts with him and Jane and Erik. Then we all helped serve Christmas dinner at homeless shelter. And I ate too much and fell asleep on the couch at Jane’s place that night. I ‘peopled’.” She glared at Steve and repeated in an accusing tone, “’Peo-ple-d!’”

Darcy frowned as she also remembered Ian cornering her under mistletoe before Christmas. He tried to get back together with her until she threatened to tase him. It had cast a pall over Darcy’s entire holiday.  That was one interaction with people she did NOT look back on fondly.

Steve chuckled weakly, “and you’re mad at me for not ‘people-ing?’”  

“You never want anyone to pity you in any way, but then you do stupid stuff like that! I mean, I was drunk when Thor told me, but it made me CRY.” Darcy shook her head and looked away, frowning, angry. “Sorry. Said too much. Not my business. I know. Sorry.” She hunched her shoulders as though concerned he might offer a rebuke.

Steve's face fell into a sad grin. “No need to… It’s nice that you worry about me, Darcy. Thanks for that.” He resisted the urge to cover her hand with his. “I’m sorry I made you cry.” Genuine distress filled him, that she’d cried and that he had no right to offer comfort. Something in her reaction brought out his deepest protective instincts.

Careful to avoid distracting Steve from driving, Darcy poked his rock-hard bicep. “Pfft. Silly. You’re not alone, even if you try. You have friends. I’m your friend. You know that. Right?”

“Friends.” Steve nodded, grim. “Yeah. Thank you for being my friend, Darcy.” He sighed, long and low.

Darcy nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.

---

 Soon, they arrived at the coordinates. A tiny cabin nestled in the deepening snow. It was dark, but for a dim light visible through its large windows.

Darcy moaned, “finally.”

“I could carry…” Steve’s voice trailed off as Darcy threw her door open and jumped out into the knee-deep snow. She almost fell, but righted herself. The winds swirled snow and sleet all around her.

“Shit! Cold!” Darcy trudged with purpose towards the cabin. “So cold! And, eww, wet. Oh!” She input the code Tony had sent for the front door lock and shoved inside. Darcy kicked off her snow-covered boots and dropped her coat inside the front door. She scurried to the bathroom. “Some of us don’t have super bladder capacity!” Her brief view of the cabin interior was minimal. Dark shapes stood out against the eerie snow light through the windows.

Steve slammed his car door and followed. He shook his head and yelled back, “nobody has that” as he picked up Darcy’s coat, shook snow off, and hung it on a hook. He toed off his boots and set them and Darcy’s boots near the fireplace. Then, he peeled off his snow pants and hung them on a hook near the door. They’d kept his jeans dry.

“Don’t get your tights in a twist. I’m hurrying!” Darcy called from the bathroom.

Brows raised; Steve surveyed the cabin. He flicked light switches and swore under his breath as low, golden light bathed the tight space. The room was dominated by a low bed and floor to ceiling windows. A Christmas tree decorated with lights stood by the bed. There were at least a dozen pillows and a sheer hanging canopy laced with warm string lights over the bed. There was no sofa, only two reading chairs and a small table in front of the fireplace. A kitchenette took space along one wall. It had a well-stocked wine rack.

Mostly, there was the ridiculously romantic-looking bed. Face prickling with heated anxiety, Steve found a thermostat and started the heater. Then, he began to build a fire in the brick fireplace. The cabin was cold and the windows were more suited to airiness than warmth. The back walls were brick, attractive but cold in winter weather.

“Uh, Steve?” Darcy sounded sheepish; voice muffled by the bathroom door. “Can you hand me a blanket or look for a robe or something? I’m sorry to trouble you. My pants are soaked up to the knees and I can’t put them back on. They’re freezing. Wet with snow.”

Steve closed his eyes, still for several seconds. He looked around for a closet and saw instead a wardrobe. He grabbed a black silk robe, frowning at the sheer and gauzy red alternative hanging beside it. The top shelves held baskets of swimsuits, shorts, and other summer clothes. He took the black robe off the hangar and walked to the bathroom. He knocked and held out the robe, eyes averted. Then, he went back to work on the fire.

“Thanks, I didn’t think. Just ran to the bathroom. I…” Darcy stopped as she got a good look at the cabin. “Oh, holy… uh, night.” She cut a careful glance Steve’s way.

Steve shook his head and chuckled. “Something like that. Don’t worry. I can sleep on the floor. I’ve done worse.” He arranged another log in the growing flames and warmed his hands.

“You can NOT! Don’t be stupid. I won’t attack you. Promise. We both need to sleep and there’s room for two if we remove a few hundred pillows.” Darcy’s tone sounded more certain and stubborn as she talked. She rolled her eyes at him. “Make a line of pillows down the middle of the bed as a dividing line if you want to keep me away. Or, I can do it.” She frowned at him, set her jeans near the fire to dry, and moved to the kitchenette. Darcy opened the refrigerator, freezer, and cabinets to see what they had to work with. “Sorry about my coat and boots. I was gonna get them, I swear.”

Steve frowned, disliking her urgent anxiety. “No problem.”

Darcy opened a bottle of water and drank it. “I didn’t dare drink much water while we were stuck in the car, but I still needed a bathroom for at least the past hour.” She offered him a bottle, which he accepted and downed before returning his attention to his work. Darcy moved food from the freezer to the refrigerator to thaw. She opened a couple of cans of soup and put them on to simmer, and sat in a reading chair. “I checked the weather forecast while I was in the bathroom. We’re not getting out of here on our own power before tomorrow night at the earliest.” She tightened the belt on the robe and leaned towards the fire, hands outstretched. “Nice. Getting a little warmth there. Thanks.”

Steve excused himself to the restroom. On his return, he sat in the other chair. He watched the fire’s progress, then turned his attention to the deepening snow visible through the windows all around them. “Quieter now. Slowing down, or a lull before more blizzard.”

“Lull, according to radar. Fresh snow absorbs sound. Something about air between the flakes dampening vibrations.” When Steve gave her an impressed look, Darcy grinned, “I saw it in a meme on the Internet. Must be true.” She winked at him.

Steve returned her grin. “Internet. So helpful.”

“Except when it’s REALLY not.” She made a face, both sad and angry. “Beth met ‘Soldier Boy’ online. And, of course his worst notions get amplified there. Bleurgh.”

Careful, Steve dared, “what branch of the Military is your brother-in-law with?”

Darcy choked on water. “Br... Whaa?” She shook her head, hard. “God, no! Don’t say that. It might come true if you say it.  Eww! Grandma Esther'd roll right out of her grave to beat the ever-living sh… heck… pardon me, out of Beth if she marries that Nazi wannabe.” Darcy shuddered dramatically. “Crud. They’ve been dating more than a year. And, Christmas… You may be right. Ugh.” She spoke as she texted into her phone, “‘If you marry him, I’ll give you kitty litter as a wedding present, used kitty litter. Dumbass. BTW I hate him. He’s awful.’ Ugh. Delete. Delete. Delete.”

Steve digested all this and stayed quiet. He noted with interest that Darcy’s cheeks reddened as though with embarrassment. In his experience she didn’t embarrass easily. Her plush lower lip jutted out in a pout. “Beth’s dating a racist faux-militia-type lunatic. She’s decided she’s Sub to his Dom and overlooks his politics and crazy behavior. It’s nauseating.” Darcy frowned, sad, “I don’t see the attraction. Mom says the sex must be great, cuz she doesn’t understand the attraction, either.” Darcy twirled a piece of her hair nervously on one finger. “Mom thought she had the worst taste in men in the family, but Beth’s making her wonder.” She shook her head. “Sorry. Nothing to you. You don’t know them. Crazy family of a sorta friend.”

“I know you… some. I care more than you think.” Now Steve’s cheeks reddened. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

Darcy gestured as though to bump shoulders with him. “Nice.” She arranged the robe over her legs, both from cold and modesty.

Hesitant, Steve ventured, “you never mention your father.”

Darcy’s gaze turned his way. “Nope. Long gone.” Her expression hardened. “Thank goodness.”

After an awkward silence fell between them, Steve went to the stove and spooned soup into two bowls. He returned to his place by the fire. He handed Darcy her soup, noting her mild surprise at being served. They ate without speaking. When they were done, they both took their bowls and rinsed them in the sink.

Darcy walked over to the bed and started moving pillows. “Do you want a dividing line?” She didn’t try to meet his gaze.

“Not necessary. Let’s put the pillows by the windows. They’ll block some of the cold that’s coming in and making it hard for this place to warm up.” Steve pressed pillows along the bottom edge of one window. He glanced back as Darcy slid beneath the covers, still wearing the black robe. The warm light brought out red and light brown highlights in her long hair. She looked even prettier than usual in the golden glow. And he thought she was always beautiful.

Darcy shivered hard. “Sheets are freezing!”

Swallowing hard, Steve sat on the far side of the bed from her. “Want the decorative lights off?”

“N…n..not unless you do. They’re p..pretty. Make me think warmer thoughts.” Her shivers shook the bed.

Steve shifted so that he could lift the covers and lay underneath them. They were icy cold against his pants. He imagined the chill was worse against Darcy’s bare legs. He lay back and closed his eyes, feeling the motion of the bed from Darcy’s shaking. The winds began to wail again, harder than before. He opened his eyes and turned to look out at the raging blizzard. “Wanna lay back-to-back? I run warm.” As she shifted so that she faced away from him, he rolled to his side and moved back against her. He cursed himself as a masochist.

“Ohhh. Fuck, yes!” Darcy swore under her breath and whispered, “sorry. So sorry!”

“I know what you mean and you don’t have to avoid cursing around me. We’re not on a mission communicator in an official capacity. That ‘language’ thing they joke me about is nonsense. I don’t give a damn about how people want to talk in regular life.” Steve closed his eyes again, trying to keep his tone even as Darcy wriggled against his back. He heard her mutter thanks a few times. Making her feel good pleased him.

Five minutes later, Darcy rolled over and pressed her cold nose against his shoulder. She spent several minutes trying to figure out where to put her hands. She ended up crossing her arms over her chest and tucking her hands under her chin. Within minutes, she was asleep.

Listening to the sound of Darcy’s breathing as it evened out and deepened lulled Steve to sleep soon after. His face settled into a small smile.

---

 Steve supposed it was a slight change in the blizzard-muted light of day that woke him next. Languorous, sensual dreams dissipated through his hazy thoughts. Dream images of Darcy, kiss-swollen lips and bared creamy skin, heated his blood.

Then, awareness hit him hard. He and Darcy clenched in a lover’s embrace. Their legs entwined and her head was on his chest. Her sweet, feminine scent filled his senses. Her amazing breasts pressed against one side of his chest. One of her hands was against his arm and the other warmed the skin of his stomach, inside his shirt. It all felt so good and right that it stole his breath. His body’s natural response to his dreams, to her, and to waking was extreme. He was afraid to move lest any friction push him past sanity. A small, low moan sounded in her throat as she shifted against him. He tensed.

Her voice was raspy with sleep. “I know it’s awkward, but I’m way too comfy to regret it. You feel good, Steve.”

“Right back atcha’, Doll,” he whispered. Wishing himself back in his dreams, he kissed her forehead and squeezed her even closer. He wanted her so much he could hardly stand it.

Darcy made another small sound in her throat as she wriggled against him. The realization that he was aroused sparked her passions, but she didn’t dare to presume too much. Maybe it was only an impressive sign of morning. She followed his example and placed a chaste kiss below his jaw. She felt his heart pounding more quickly and closed her eyes again. She flexed her fingers against his ridiculously-cut abdomen and felt him jolt. She debated if any of his reactions had anything to do with her in particular. She wished they did.

Both of them were awake, but neither admitted it.  Each of them savored the embrace and the feel of the other’s body. They each fantasized about the other.  They fantasized about passionate first moves, expressing affection and desire. Want. They became lost in imagining more and more.  Time passed. Their emotions swirled like the blizzard winds that trapped them together.

They lay cuddled and simmering with unspoken desires until Steve’s phone rang. It broke the spell. He moved away from Darcy and answered the phone.

She watched the play of muscles under the back of his shirt and struggled to stifle her lust.  Darcy closed her eyes.  It was futile.  Her lust for Steve had been growing for over a year.  In this circumstance, lust was inevitable.

While Steve talked with Sam, assuring him that he was fine though the storm prevented him reaching the City, Darcy left the bed and went to the bathroom. She snagged her dry jeans on her way there. She took a shower and did what she could with toothpaste she found in the medicine cabinet and her finger. When she came back out, she hung the robe in the wardrobe and put on her Christmas cardigan. She looked through the wardrobe and giggled at the sheer red robe. Then, Darcy took a step back. She buttoned and straightened her sweater by her reflection in the wardrobe mirror.

Steve paused in his conversation, a gob-smacked look on his face, “what…?!”

“Oh! Yeah. I know. Gaudy, isn’t it? Well, last year Tony gifted the ‘ugliest sweater at his party’ winner $10,000. I know what he can be like, so I thought I’d stand a better chance of catching his wallet’s attention if I went a little on the sexy side. And I sewed in lights.” Darcy twirled and turned on the LED lights that adorned the sweater. Her dark green Christmas cardigan had bauble Avenger emblem buttons. A Captain America Shield button strained to hold the sweater together over Darcy's breasts. Silver and gold trim around the hem resembled tinsel. Red and gold lighted and embroidered ornaments dotted the sweater at random. It was a bit gaudy rather than ugly, but sexy most of all since the fabric hugged Darcy’s ample curves. She wore it over a tight red top and skinny black jeans. The ensemble played up her natural assets.

Steve could only nod in reply. He tried to turn his full attention back to his conversation, but didn’t do well.

By the time Steve was off the phone and had made the bed, Darcy found waffles in the freezer and syrup in the pantry. She had coffee brewing and was downing another bottle of water when Steve began stoking the fire embers and adding wood. They shared a quiet breakfast. Steve tried not to look at Darcy’s figure and failed again and again. He tried not to fantasize as Darcy licked syrup from her lips. He failed.

As they finished breakfast, Darcy looked around the cabin. “Aw, man. No TV?”

“Actually, there’s one over the bed.” Steve swallowed the last of his coffee.

“Over?” Darcy gave him a disbelieving look and went over to look up inside the bed canopy. “You’re not kidding.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “at first I thought it was a mirror.”

Darcy lay on the bed, on her back. She looked around for a remote control, finally finding one in the nearby window sill. “Icy remote.” She pointed it up and sighed, “but it works!” Channel flipping and streaming services browsing occupied her for some time.

She hoped rather than believed that Steve was looking at her with lusty interest.

Steve was. The intimacy of their situation and Darcy’s sensual appearance were a potent combination. He could hardly speak. He excused himself to go get a quick shower. He came back out a few minutes later, dressed again but still toweling his hair dry.

Darcy didn’t meet Steve’s eye as she offered, “you’re welcome to join me. Just friends watching television, ya know. I’m watching a silly Christmas movie. ’Scrooged.’ Okay?”

Steve shrugged as he made his way back to the bed. He shuffled, awkward, as he drew nearer.

Darcy shifted towards one edge of the bed, not meeting his gaze. “Plenty of room. Don’t mind me.”

He smiled as he sat on the other edge of the bed and forced himself to speak up. “Sam said that they’re busy helping first responders deal with stranded motorists. Hundreds of them all across the state. A lot of people didn’t have our luck and find shelter. I had to agree with him that it’s more important that they help them than us. I’m sorry you won’t have the chance to win the sweater contest.” He eased onto his back beside her, folding a pillow behind his head.

“Of course, they need to help people who’re stuck!” Darcy shuddered. “It’s super cold out there and the storm got out of hand so fast. I can only imagine. We’re fine here.” She grinned and turned to him. “You really think I’d win?”

Steve was struck by how pretty her green eyes were. He blushed. Her look turned quizzical. He nodded and spoke a thick reply, “yeah. Definitely.” Steve forced his gaze up to the television mounted above them. “I assume that ‘Scrooged’ refers to the Dickens novella?”

“Yup.” Darcy shifted further to the edge and lifted the covers so that she could get under the blankets. Once under there, she groused, “darned lights and ornaments are poking me.” She frowned, and unbuttoned the sweater again and lay it aside. Buttons and lights made a clicking sound on the floor by the bed.

After debating for what felt like an endless time, Steve got under the covers and shifted closer to her. “Can’t let you freeze.”

Darcy rolled up on her side and looked him in the eye. “It would be rude to let me freeze. I’m glad you’ve seen the light.” She winked at him, trying to seem playful. She thought that he was looking at her lips, but dismissed it as wishful thinking.

Steve assured her, “I’ll do my best to keep you from freezing. Wouldn’t want to be rude.” He put one arm around her, hand spanning the middle of her back. “I’m a polite guy.”

“You’re the nicest soldier I’ve ever met. Have I ever mentioned that?” Darcy ducked her head as a blush filled her cheeks. The way his hand covered her whole back made her feel tiny. Did things to her. Made her want his hands on her in other places. The fire she tried to play with was backfiring spectacularly, leaving Darcy breathless with desire.

“No. But I’m glad to hear it.” Steve gave her a squeeze.

There was a loud noise onscreen. Darcy rolled onto her back so that she could see the television again. She hoped Steve wouldn’t notice that her breath was racing.

After a few minutes, Steve nudged her. “Tell me about other soldiers you’ve met? There are good and bad apples in any group, you know.” He felt Darcy tense.

Though she didn’t look at Steve, Darcy decided to answer. She told him about Puente Antiguo and the SHIELD agents and soldiers who took Jane’s research- and their computers and even Darcy’s personal iPod. SHIELD ran a strange, temporary military base near the town and Erik worried about their absolute power. She told him about the shifts in those soldiers’ attitudes after Thor returned to Asgard. First, they were obsequious, but gradually more restrictive. They coveted Jane’s research and tried to control them all. After a long pause, Darcy shared, “some of them reminded me of my dad. He was military, Marine. Not a nice guy, especially to our mom.”

Steve rubbed Darcy’s arm as she talked. He felt that it was a privilege that Darcy was telling him something so personal. He didn’t want to break the spell, rather hoped that she might open up to him more.

Darcy blinked back tears. “He found fault with everything she did. She couldn’t do enough fast enough to avoid setting off his temper. Then he… well, you know.” Darcy ducked her head.

Realization dawned on Steve. “So, he never served her a dish or coffee even if he was getting something? He never held doors for her or pulled out a chair? You never saw him treat her with respect?”

Steve stilled as Darcy sat up on one elbow and stared at him, eyes wide. “Respect? No. No respect.” She grabbed the remote again. “Let’s look for something else. I saw…” Darcy glanced at Steve. “’White Christmas’ is about to start on this channel. I remember liking the dancing and pretty outfits and thinking it’s sweet. The story starts in your time, though. Do you mind?  Will that make you too sad?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ve heard good things about it. I’ll be okay.” He wanted to say that he was more than okay with Darcy next to him, but was too tongue tied.

As the classic channel announcer talked, Darcy shifted closer to Steve again. “I want you to be okay. The 21st century’s not all bad, ya know.”

Again, Steve kissed Darcy’s forehead. “Yeah. Thanks, Doll.” He stroked her hair as they began watching the movie. “This okay?”

Darcy nodded, wondering if he was only being nice because he felt sorry for her or if there was another reason. “Yes. Very okay. Feels nice.” As his fingers trailed down her back, she shivered with pleasure. She wondered if he had any idea what his touch did to her. She savored the feelings, the want and heat, for a long time. Other thoughts ran through the back of her mind while she tried to ignore them.

Most of the way through the movie, the 'pretend-engagement' conspirators confessed to Bing Crosby’s character. Steve commented, approving, “at least they fessed up and set him straight. Too many times in romantic comedies the people avoid saying what’s on their mind until it’s too late. It's silly.” He stilled as Darcy pushed back from him and stared at him again. “What?  You okay?”

Darcy nodded.  “I… yeah. Sorry.” She sat up on the edge of the bed, paused the movie, and grasped her phone. After a moment, she nodded. “I’m gonna do this. I’m gonna make this call before I chicken out. Wish me luck.” She grabbed the green sweater from the floor and slipped it on over her red top again.

“Luck.” Steve got up and walked around the bed so he could sit next to Darcy. She looked up at him with a grateful warmth that transfixed him. He nudged her shoulder to offer comfort as someone answered her call.

“Beth? Hi. It’s Darcy. Merry something or other.” Darcy’s knee bounced, betraying her restlessness. Steve could feel tension fill her frame. After a moment, she continued, “yeah. Fine. I found a place to stay. I’m with a friend. And, Beth?” She took a deep breath, “He treats me with respect. Caring and respect. Even if he were…” Darcy paused. She rushed the next words out all at once, “well, if he was my Dom? He wouldn’t embarrass me or push away you or Mom by making me say ‘Meow’ and only ‘Meow’ to you at his whim. He wouldn’t think that's funny. He wouldn’t call me a ‘dimwit’ or a ‘bimbo’. He… Beth? I’m sorry to criticize your choices. But you deserve better than that kind of stuff. I hate the way Chad treats you, the way he talks down to you and tries to change you. You don’t need changing. I don’t know if it’s just me that Chad can’t stand. But, if it’s not? If he treats you like that in front of other people? I mean, would he demean you in front of your kids like Dad did Mom? Would he hurt you? How much like Dad…? Scratch that. Sorry. He’s not Dad. I’m not trying to be an unfair bitch to Chad, whatever he says. I worry that…” Darcy gasped, “don’t cry! I’m sorry! No! You… what? He what? He didn’t… What?!?” She shook, both in her body and voice. There was a long silence on Darcy’s end as her sister talked and cried. Darcy only interrupted the flow of words to utter sounds of disgust and disbelief.

Steve went to the kitchenette and got more water. He opened a bottle of wine and made thawed meat into fried burgers and baked French fries in the oven. He took Darcy water and returned to work on their lunch. The smell of good food soon filled the tiny cabin. He stayed busy, but most of his attention was on Darcy and her conversation.

Finally, Darcy rasped, “Well, that’s… What?! You’re thanking me? No. What? I thought you’d tell me to go to Hell, not take my call as a divine sign that you should say no and leave him. Oh, thank Baby Jesus!” Darcy laughed through tears. “Yes! I know I’m a bitch and I’m causing you to throw yourself on Mom’s mercy at Christmas. Enjoy her cookies for me. If it makes you feel better, I don’t have baking ingredients. Oh, fine! Hm? My friend? Awesome like you wouldn’t believe. Uh, I don’t know. It’s… pffft. I need to talk straight to him, too. Wish me luck?” Darcy wiped tears from her eyes. “Yes! I love you, too. Now, go. Text me when you’re safe at Mom’s and tell her I’m safe and I’ll call later. Merry Christmas.” Darcy hung up from the call and stared at the phone, rocking in place until she received a text. Then, she collapsed backwards onto the bed and stared up, unseeing.

Steve stayed quiet, letting Darcy calm from her talk with her sister. When the food was ready, Steve returned to her side and offered her a hand up, leading her towards the fire.

Darcy stumbled to a chair. “Thanks. You’re the best.” She drank more water.

“So, did he propose?” Steve began eating again and gave Darcy time to answer.

Darcy ate a bite of hamburger with a few fries and shook her head, “nope. TOLD her she was gonna marry him. Told her!” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Jackass! Good riddance.”

Wry, Steve shook his head. “Not very romantic. Not that I’m an expert in that department, but…”

Darcy only nodded as she devoured the rest of her food and sipped wine. “I had no idea how hungry I was.” She looked at Steve, thinking how lucky she was to be trapped with a good person who exuded calm and kindness. She especially appreciated that after the intensity of her conversation with her sister. Darcy sipped the wine as she focused on Steve. Being with him settled her, made her feel safe. And looking at him was always a delight. Steve Rogers was handsome, to be sure. He’d rolled up the sleeves on his green and blue flannel shirt. Unfair of him to subject her to sexy forearms on top of all the rest. Like every shirt she’d ever seen him wear, this one struggled to cover his muscles. She’d given up trying to think of adjectives that could convey how attractive Steve was. And nice. He didn’t call her out for staring at him like a weirdo, mooning after him. He didn’t even press her to speak up now, when she was sure he must be curious about the ‘straight talk’ she’d mentioned. He gave her the space she needed to regain her equilibrium.

Respect. Steve treated her with respect. She had a wonderful friend who treated her with respect. She ought to be forever grateful rather than daring to wish for more.

Steve finished his glass of wine and poured himself another.

Darcy held her glass out for him to top off, then sipped it again. “This is good stuff. I never spend more than $10 on a bottle. I’d bet the cork on this stuff costs that much,” she giggled, “or even the label.”

“I’ll give Tony money to cover it when we get back to the Tower.” Steve shrugged.

Darcy glanced outside. Snow and sleet fell still. “That’ll be a bit yet.”

Steve nodded, not sure what to say. He felt happy trapped with Darcy, to have a chance to talk with her and hold her close. Even if she only saw him as a friend who kept her from getting too cold. Silence fell between them again.

“Wanna finish the movie? Sorry I shut it off without asking.” Darcy needed more time to gather courage.

Steve nodded, “no problem. Yeah. I’d like to see the ending.”

They took their dishes to the sink and then returned to the bed. There, Darcy took off her Christmas sweater. She threw back the covers and snuggled next to Steve under the blankets. He put his arms around her while she used the remote to restart the movie. Finally, the lovers in the movie sorted out their misunderstanding, kissed, and made plans for their future. Fierce longing overwhelmed both Steve and Darcy. Unconsciously, he stroked her back.

There was no one and nothing to distract them or come between them. Nothing except for their own emotional shields. But it was a day for dropping those.

Cheers and strains of the song ‘White Christmas’ sounded behind the words ‘The End’. Darcy ducked her head so that she didn’t have to look Steve in the eye. “I wish…”

Steve interrupted, “I wish that you didn’t dislike soldiers so much, Darcy. I’m a soldier and I can’t change that, never could.”

Darcy pushed back from him, “what? Change? You? No! I don’t… Oh! No. I only dislike the bad ones. I don’t like jack-booted thugs who steal Jane’s research and my personal stuff. I don't like Nazi wanna-be’s or, well, mean soldiers. I like… I like you, Steve.” She swallowed hard and jutted her chin out. “I wish that your work didn’t take pretty much all your time and that you didn’t miss your good old days so much. I wish…” She blinked back unshed tears. “I really wish you wanted to be here- in this time- with me, Steve. I’m sorry. I know you only want to be friends. And I won’t say anything more to make you uncomfortable, friend.” She smiled a small, watery smile. “Friend. I’ve done that for you all this time. I can keep doing it. I want any relationship we can have, even just friends.”

Confusion filled Steve’s expression. “Is that why you say ‘friend’ to me so much? Because you think that’s all I want?”

“Uh huh.” Darcy nodded miserably.

He inched closer. “And you like me even though I’m a soldier? And you want to be more than friends with me? Darce?” He whispered, “do you… want?”

Darcy looked up at him, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry to make things so awkward when you’re stuck here with me. Yes. I want! I wish that you wanted to be more than fr…Mmph!”

Steve kissed her.

He pulled back and stared at her as he cupped her cheek with one hand. “Sorry. I should ‘a- May I kiss you? I’m crazy about you, Darcy. I’ve wanted you for months and months. Want you so much I can hardly stand it. Not just friends, please. More, Doll.” His eyes gleamed with fervor.

Darcy nodded, stunned.

Steve chuckled, kissed her forehead and kissed her cheek again, with reverence. “Darcy, Doll… can I get a ‘yes’ to me kissing you?” He shifted so that his lips were a hair’s breadth away from her lips. Charged air shook the space yet between the two of them. He waited.

“Yes!” Darcy closed the distance between them and met his kiss with her own. They both trembled into it, a feather-light exploration. They each absorbed the idea that they’d misread what the other wanted. She murmured again, “oh, yes, Steve.”

He grinned as he kissed her again, deepening the kiss. He nibbled at her plush lower lip as he’d fantasized and dreamed so many times. Reality was a million times better. Darcy shuddered against him and groaned with pleasure. Steve stilled and closed his eyes. “Oh, Doll.” Darcy teased at his lower lip and he groaned, “gonna be hard as hell to be a gentleman with you doin’ that.”

Darcy chuckled, “who says you have to be a gentleman?” She shifted her leg to brush against his hardness. “Mmm. You were saying?” She nibbled at his lip again and played with the top button of his shirt.

Steve jolted and cursed under his breath. He kissed her quiet, again deepening the kiss and learning how they fit together. Steve savored Darcy's lips and tongue and throat while also exploring what she liked best. Sensitive spots. Sweetness. Eagerness. It was pure bliss. Darcy was becoming short of breath. Steve lay back and looked up at the next movie that had started while his Christmas dreams began to come true.

Darcy glanced at the Santa onscreen and panted. “I no longer have anything to ask Santa for.” She undid Steve’s top shirt button and kissed at the base of Steve’s throat. “I can think of a few things I’d like to ask you for, though.”

Steve grinned down at her, “same, Doll.”

“Oh?” Darcy undid another button on his shirt and kissed the exposed skin. She looked up at him and held his gaze as she undid the next few buttons.

Steve pulled her up for a long, slow kiss that set Darcy’s every nerve ending afire. She undid another few buttons on his shirt. When he shrugged it off, Darcy stilled, staring at his naked chest. “Holy…”

“Night?” he suggested. She snorted a giggle. He shifted her so that she sat astride him. He asked with his eyes if he could lift her shirt.

She nodded. “I may freeze, but yes. Please do.” She lifted her arms.

He shook his head. “Not gonna freeze. Haven’t you heard? I’m the man with a plan.” His voice tightened as he pulled her shirt up over her head. He shifted another pillow behind him and sat up some, pulling her towards him. He kissed her breasts as he reached around and undid her lacy red bra. “Damn, Doll. You’re a fantasy come true.” As he began to tease at her breasts with his lips and tongue, Darcy shivered and moved on him. He groaned, “here.” He pulled his shirt out from beneath him and helped her put it on, open at the front but warming her arms and back. "Looks much better on you than Tony's robe."

“Ahhh.” Darcy tried to talk, but Steve returned to tormenting her with his insistent lips. “G...good plan. Ohhh.” She squirmed in his lap, grinding against his erection with abandon. He let out a lusty groan that made her proud.

Steve pulled her chest against him for warmth as he moved up to kiss her lips and face again. “You’re shaking.” He looked concerned, but couldn’t resist kissing Darcy again. And again. He plucked and teased at her with his dexterous fingers. He loved the frantic sounds she made in the back of her throat.

“Not cold.” Darcy pulled back, then kissed him again and again. “Just want. Want you. Want so much.”

Steve shifted, rolling Darcy down onto her back. “Good thing, Doll.” He kissed her. Long, slow, passionate kisses that she met with a fervor that lit him up more every second. He palmed her breast and continued his exquisite torment. Darcy arched up against him, writhing. He lowered his lips to her breasts again. First one, then the other. Kissing and nibbling and sucking. She cried out and bucked as he swirled his tongue, hard. Darcy wasn’t sure if she would be embarrassed to come just from his attention to her breasts or impressed. Possibly both. Likely both.

He resumed teasing her nipples with his fingers. He placed open-mouthed kisses all along her belly. Steve took his time. “Beautiful.”

Darcy whimpered and began to shove her pants down. Steve stilled her hands. “I got you.” He undid the snap on her black jeans and kissed the exposed skin. Then he lowered her zipper and kissed her more. Darcy held the covers up with one hand and ran the other covetously along Steve’s shoulder. Steve pulled her pants and panties off and then moved back up her body to kiss her cheek and lips again.

“Pants!” Darcy begged him between kisses.

Steve huffed a laugh and unbuttoned his jeans. Darcy pressed against him, skin to skin. She wore only his shirt and warm red socks. Finally, he pushed down his pants so that he wore nothing.

Darcy’s eyes went even wider. “Oh, my. You go commando?”

He shrugged. “Habit. The uniform requires special briefs.”

She reached for him eagerly and wrapped her fingers around his shaft.

“Fuck,” Steve hissed.

Darcy's grin had a wicked glint. “Something like that.” She kissed down his chest and abdomen until she finally took him in her mouth. Then, Darcy delighted in taking Steve completely apart.

When he’d caught his breath again, Steve gave Darcy a smile unlike anything she’d ever seen from him before. It was both delighted and full of mischief that caused her pulse to race. He again pulled her astride his legs so he could taste and tease at her breasts. He left lingering kisses along the column of her throat and over her wrists. He disappeared under the covers and kissed her thighs and the backs of her knees. Darcy squirmed and unseeingly stared up at the movie. Steve didn’t tire, didn’t cramp- only focused on Darcy's pleasure with single-minded, super-strong drive. He had her writhing with pleasure long before he let her come. Another Christmas movie was playing onscreen and halfway over before Steve came up for air.

Finally, when Darcy begged, Steve slowly slid home. She realized that he’d been prepping her so long because of his size. She felt stretched wide as he twisted to hit her G-spot just right. She came quickly and felt as though she continued coming again and again as Steve pounded into her. He twisted her around so that he could plunge in from behind while rolling her swollen clit between his calloused fingers. After he came, he laid his fingers flat, soothing. He cradled her body tight back against his. Aftershocks left her spasming with pleasure. Steve kissed Darcy’s head again and again, murmuring, “sweet Darcy. Crazy about you.” She dozed in his arms, warm and loved and completely satisfied.

Dinner that night was steak and vegetables from the freezer, paired with an exquisite red wine. As they lay in bed afterwards, cuddling and teasing each other, Darcy felt Steve’s arms tighten around her. He buttoned a few buttons on his shirt to cover her and murmured, “company.” Soon, Darcy heard the sound of Iron Man landing outside the front door of the cabin.

Tony threw the door open and sauntered in, “I’m here to rescue you.” He stared, looked around and saw the open wine bottle and two pairs of pants on the floor by the bed, and shook his head. “Or, not. I guess Pep can stop crying about you being lonely on Christmas again this year, Cap. And I can stop wondering why you’re not answering texts. Nice shirt, Lewis.” Tony was blinking hard, slack-jawed with surprise.

Darcy laughed, “you should see the sweater I was gonna wear to your party. It’s around here someplace.”

“Lights up, sparkles, and hugs her curves to perfection. I’m sure she would ‘a won your contest,” Steve grinned, enjoying Tony’s shocked expression.

Tony smiled, “I bet. Well, Mazel Tov! Thanks for popping Cap’s cherry, Lewis. ‘bout time.” He pretended to wipe away a tear of pride.

Darcy snorted, “no way was that his first time. Orgasm hall of fame. All my Christmas dreams have come true.”

Steve ducked his head against her hair. “Good to hear, Doll. Right back atcha’.”

Tony shook his head. “Good reviews all around then. Well, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays kids. I’d guess you’re all set here ‘til it’s safe to drive again?”

Steve looked down at Darcy and she looked up at him. They both nodded emphatically and turned to Tony, “we’re good.” Tony laughed.

“Merry Christmas, Tony,” Steve beamed. “We’ll see you in a day or two.” He repressed a shiver as Darcy began teasing him under the covers again.

Darcy called out, “Merry Christmas! Thanks for dropping in.”

Tony shook his head and waved back at them as he went out the door of the cabin.

Steve pinned Darcy on her back and began ravishing her again, mock joking, “naughty girl!” He pushed into her again and set a slow pace as he rained kisses over her breasts.

Darcy looked up at him and batted her eyelashes. “Your naughty girl.”

Steve kissed her hard. “And my nice girl. Merry Christmas, Darcy.”

Gasping with pleasure, Darcy answered him, “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

 Fin

[ithappensoffstage]

I just had THE most galaxy brained harrisco xmas au fic idea... rambling below the cut

ok so my first thought is since harry is obviously the grumpy one we make him the bitter professional coming home from the holidays with a city beau who meets a small town hunk and learns the true meaning of christmas but I just have to say no to that and totally flip this

Cisco moved away for college and met Barry Allen, and the two of them became fast friends who founded STAR Labs right out of college. Fast forward and Cisco has been so so busy he rarely comes home for XMAS, but now he’s 31 and thinks he might propose to his girlfriend soon, and he comes home to his small town to see his family for Christmas with her theoretically not far behind.

Cisco used to skate on the town’s hockey team, and one of his first nights there, decides to sneak into the rink, where he gets busted by the new coach--Harry Wells. Harry LOVES Christmas, loves to go all-out decorating, throws a holiday party for the team every year (his daughter Jesse is of COURSE on the team, star Center).

And you know, true Hallmark special shit, they fall in love and Cisco decides to leave the company in Barry’s capable hands so he can move back home and be with his family.

[anomander-dragnipurake]

Static

This isn't my first time writing Fawful (that fic's not done yet, I still plan on finishing it though even if I had to put it on hold for the holidays) but it is my second time. I don't really know how well I did his dialogue but I did my best. It is my first time writing Midbus though, I don't know how well I did with him either.

~

The plan was very near being ready to be set into motion at last. Just a few more things needed to be done or tweaked to perfection and Fawful would be set to be conquer the Mushroom Kingdom sometime early in the new year. The power of the Dark Star would be his and no one would ever be able to thwart his ambitions and knock him down ever again.

But despite how close he was, he just sat at his desk, staring at the papers strewn across it. The most pressing matter somewhere on that desk was the formula for the blorb shrooms; in their testing they’d found it wore off after about a week and that simply would not do, he needed to go over it, alter it and try again. But his brain was filled with loud static as if from a broken television that refused to turn all the way off, drowning out any attempt to read and make sense of the words he’d written on the pages. So he just sat there, hating them and himself and the bitter cold that had taken over the whole hideout.

This time of year was the worst. It was miserably cold and everyone was always so cheery except for him. Even Cackletta had loved this time of year even if she’d never admitted it. She’d used to play Xmas music in her private room that had bordered his lab in their old hideout, thinking no one could hear it through the door or wall despite how thin it was. Fawful had never bothered to correct that notion in part because it hadn’t been so bad, it had maybe been kind of nice at times. Those days were long gone now though in more ways than one but that somehow never seemed to stop him from thinking about it every year since then. It was just one more reason to hate this time of year.

A knock sounded from the door, drawing his gaze off his desk at last. Midbus didn’t wait for a reply before stepping into the room.

“Uh… merry Xmas I guess,” he said in an almost offhand tone. “I know you probably weren’t expecting anything but I got you something anyway.” He strode forward to place a plain unwrapped box on Fawful’s desk.

“Why?” Fawful asked, not reaching for it yet.

Midbus shrugged as if it didn’t much matter to him. “You’ve been a good boss so far so I figured why not?” Well, that was good to hear at least. Being a ‘good boss’ lessened the chances of Midbus possibly wanting to betray him if a potentially better offer were ever presented to him.

Trying not to show how little emotional energy he had right now, Fawful pulled the box closer and took off the lid to pull out what was inside. A cloak; similar to his old one that as now in rags except its collar was folded down instead of spread up. It was clearly made of quality material as it was quite soft, both on the inside and outside.

“I figured it might keep you warm and it was like that other red cloak you got so I thought you might like it,” Midbus said. “But anyway, I got a fire going in the front room and I’m watching some dumb Xmas movies while drinking some eggnog if you want to join me.” Without waiting for a ‘thank you’ or reply of any sort, he turned and left again, pulling the door closed behind him.

Fawful stared after him for several seconds before pushing his chair away from his desk to stand up. He took off the old cloak to pull on the new one. Immediately it was both warmer and made him feel a tad more confident. He was going to be Lord Fawful, ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom in a matter of months, it was about time he start looking the part.

He looked down at the papers on the desk again. Broken partially out of his mental funk, he should really get back to work but… he gritted his teeth and turned away to leave. He wasn’t getting anything done right now, sitting down to try again would likely only put his mind back into static mode. So, he’d take a short break and get back to it soon.

“Fawful thanks you for the gift,” he said as he strode into the front room a short time later. “And be wishing you a merry Xmas as well.” He hadn’t even thought to get Midbus anything and it was too late now.

“You’re welcome and thanks,” Midbus said with a grunt. He’d made the fire on the floor, using large stones and bricks to contain it. He sat on a stool next to it, a pile of firewood close at hand to fuel it. He’d set up the small TV on the coffee table in front of him. “Come join me in making fun of these dumb movies.” He patted the stool next to him. “I’ll pour you a glass of eggnog.”

Too anxious to sleep but far too drained to work, Fawful didn’t exactly have anything better to do so he walked over and sat down, accepting the glass when Midbus handed it to him. He’d get through this mental fog eventually, he always did, and on the other side he’d be more ready to get back to fulfilling his ambitions. But for now, he just had to do his best to get through it, a distraction from it should help and was therefore quite welcome.

[compo67]

recomposed

well, it’s been a minute. i’m supposed to be getting ready for work, as in, showering because i have a meeting today but i think we’re gonna call it a “stick a hat on” day. cw: chronic illness, tumors/cancer, depression, mental health, suicidal ideations.

cue the song “a long december” by counting crows

how is it already december 8th??? how???

i’m hoping that maybe today i can decide on what to draw for this month’s print and flesh out ideas for a tcv xmas fic

maybe i’ll watch something cheesy and awful in between calls

it’s one of those days today where i don’t feel real. or maybe i just feel super distant from reality

if i let myself, i could stare at the fairy lights in my room all day and dissociate into oblivion

i hung the lights up pretty haphazardly, while standing on my bed, reaching above my head, alone, without supervision

yeah, i know, stupid. but no one else was around or willing to help and i just wanted them up.

i’ll do a better job of hanging them later. for now, they still look pretty

i’ve accepted that yes, i’m living with my mom + family for the foreseeable future. it only took me 8 months to accept it. sheesh.

so, we painted what used to be my sister’s room and rearranged all my stuff all over again. the walls are a really nice, elegant shade of gray. i hung up art and my photo ops and this one melissa etheridge shirt i really like. oh and my stars pennant

this reminds me that i need to go grab my stars hoodie from the laundry room, along with the rest of my laundry

i also hung a tension rod above my bed and added these sheer curtains + the lights for something like a canopy but not

it’s very pretty. needs some work but i’m more or less happy with it

i’m going through a depressive episode right now, so everything is very difficult. i’m also working my way through a costochondritis flare, so everything is also very painful. joy.

i have a long history of struggling with suicidal ideations, especially in intense moments of dissociating. sometimes they just get so loud.

i think that the humira is causing some of this mood disturbance but i’m not really sure what to do about it because it has helped my inflammation

and everything else we try i’m either allergic to or don’t see any changes

but tbh all i wanna do most days is lie in bed, cry, sleep, and listen to music. then get up and do little things i enjoy like talk to friends or bake a cake but then crawl back into bed again.

i just feel a bit resentful towards my brain right now. damn 3lb collection of fat and tissue.

i have to work today. i have back to back meetings. i don’t want to use up more PTO. i know i need something to keep me grounded and distracted.

i briefly thought about taking a leave of absence but then thought about the paperwork, the payroll crap, the change to my routine without work and just no. i need to just be patient and ride this out.

i have my bi-annual EDS doctor appointment tomorrow. i’m gonna ask about skin issues (why does it tear so easily?) and see if we can change my accommodations at work

i think working 8-9 hour days gets to be too much for me. i think i’d do better working 6 hour days 4 days a week. it would have helped if scheduling had replied to my email and let me do a trial run ahead of time but oh well. now they’re just gonna have to do it

ugh i really should shower because my first meeting involves other peer group facilitators and i’m gonna have to participate

i found perfectly sized holiday cards to fit patreon prints in, that was a win

it’s been 3 years since i learned about the tumors on my liver

3 years since i learned about transplant being in my future

3 years of carrying around all that knowledge

2 years since they took 26 vials of blood from me to get a baseline for whenever i do need a transplant

my next MRI is in april. i need to get labs done by the end of the month

it would be nice if i could just live without all of this

brain weasels included

but here we are

i need to grab my compression vest, my stars hoodie, and a bottle of smart water

and try my best to make it through my meetings and then take it an hour at a time after that

we’ll see, i suppose

it’s not all doom and gloom. i love fire pits and my friend J and my sister have been indulging me. i love smores. i love the crackle of a fire. i love when my clothes smell like smoke.

the NHL wants to start up in january. i keep thinking, “just stay alive until january” and that helps a bit

i checked out a ton of queer graphic novels/manga to read from my library

tcv edits are challenging but fun

i put up my tree and my ornaments 

i have friends who check in on me and folks i can go to for comfort

some things are good

it ain’t all bad

and now.... a shower.

thank you for reading this, if you did. <3

take care of yourself.

[imaginesbymk]

update

hi!! so this month i’m gonna be hella busy, and i’m not able to participate in any xmas events here on tumblr so all i can do is post the requests and fics i’ve been drafting and doing xmas themed requests <33 final exams are this month — and they’re all lab bootcamps😐😐😐 (in person, ahem c*vid)

[hermannsthumb]

Nsfw prompt: Newt and Hermann decide to try something new: spanking. But when they start, Hermann being the reveicing end, they just burst out laughing because it seems so ridiculous to them.

ive been in the mood for this all week tbh

18+/m/e/not safe fw below cut!

Anonymous said: You said something about Newt over Hermann's lap with Hermann spanking Newt pink, but what about Newt spanking Hermann pink? Newt loves Hermann's cute little butt, and Hermann's *SO* pale. I bet Newt would love to see a pretty pink on Hermann's pretty little bottom.

Anonymous said: in your kinky xmas newmann fic you mentioned spanking so i have to share one of my silly little headcanons with you: newt loves to not quite spank hermann. Like, newt will totally walk by hermann and give him a playful smack on the ass, but in the bedroom? newt likes to position hermann on his stomach as comfortably as possible, then pinch and nibble on and squeeze and kiss and lightly pat hermann's adorable little bottom. hermann doesn't understand the appeal but he loves the attention.

The appeal of it, really, is not in the act itself--Hermann is not a remotely violent man--but in Newton’s reactions to it: the way he squeaks, the way he writhes, the way he rubs himself down on Hermann’s thigh (desperate for friction) and begs for more, begs for Hermann to love him enough to hurt him a little. And, of course, there’s the element of Newton’s endlessly appealing ass and Hermann’s complete inability to keep his hands off it, which is not to be ignored, and how pink and tender and lovely it looks afterwards. But ultimately, the simple fact of it is that it’s Newton that makes it enjoyable, Newton who made Hermann consider it in the first place, Newton who, now, for some odd reason, is insistent on reversing their roles and having a go at Hermann.

(He started out with subtle hints--lightly patting Hermann’s rear in the lab as he passed, lavishing more attention to it than usual when he would use his tongue in certain exciting ways, groping it a little more than necessary when Hermann would fuck him--before growing impatient and simply announcing it over lunch.)

“Everything okay?” Newton says. “Leg fine?”

He’s rested his hand on the flat of Hermann’s bare back, and now he drags it down to caress Hermann’s thigh with small, gentle circles. “Mm,” Hermann says, eyes drifting shut. They’re the same gentle touches that Newton uses when he’s massaging Hermann’s stiff leg, touches meant to soothe, to relax. Hermann could fall asleep like this. He has, before.

“Angle not straining you?” Newton says, and he skims the fingers of his other hand along the elastic waistband of Hermann’s underwear.

Hermann huffs out a laugh: Newton’s propped his knee up on half the pillows they own. “Not too terribly,” he says, mildly sarcastic.

Then Newton’s hand comes down on his ass.

Hermann does not squeak, nor does he gasp, or giggle, or (as in one memorable occasion) squeal, like Newton usually does. It doesn’t feel much like anything. It just sort of...stings, a bit. Hermann makes a noise of discontent.

“Did you not like that?” Newton says.

“No,” Hermann lies. “Er. Try it again.” He wriggles his hips. “Perhaps without the--”

“Oh, yeah,” Newton says.

He slips Hermann’s briefs down around his thighs, baring him to the chill of their bunk, but one of his strong, sturdy hands quickly smooths over his skin to warm him up. “You’ve been a bad scientist,” Newton declares, in a tone he likely imagines to be sexy, and Hermann has to stifle another laugh. “I have to punish you.”

“Do you?” Hermann says. Hermann adores Newton, but at a certain level it is difficult to take him seriously. Now is such a time. It’s one thing for Hermann to run down the list of Newton’s latest flagrant transgressions against him and the lab rules--tossing entrails over the yellow line, leaving dishes in the sink for over the designated twenty-four hour period, calling Hermann by his first name in front of their superiors--and smack him accordingly for each one, but Hermann can’t think of a single thing he could have possibly done recently to warrant any of Newton’s wrath. It’s also difficult to imagine Newton having wrath.

“Uh,” Newton says, sounding unsure, but still rubbing at him. “Yeah.”

“What have I done, then?” Hermann says.

Newton is silent. Then he brings his hand down on Hermann’s ass again. Hermann yelps, this time, though more from the shock of it, and to his surprise Newton echoes it. “Jesus, Hermann, you’re a bony son of a bitch.” Hermann peeks over his shoulder to see Newton examining his palm. “I think I’m gonna have a bruise.” He shakes it out.

“Would you like me to kiss it better?” Hermann offers, reverting back to sarcasm. Sarcasm that Newton does not pick up on, unfortunately--he smiles sweetly, as if pleased Hermann even offered.

“Nah, you’re fine,” he says, and then raises his hand. “Okay, round three.” He strikes Hermann’s cheeks three more times in quick succession, and finishes with a pinch to the lower half of Hermann’s left cheek. “How’s that feel, baby?”

Hermann dissolves into giggles.

“I’m sorry,” he finally manages to wheeze out, muffled, on account of his face pressed close to the bedspread, but he can hear Newton giggling, too. “I really am, darling, you’re just not--”

“Not what?”

“Not exactly intimidating.”

“Jackass,” Newton laughs, and he delivers one final smack. Then--to Hermann’s actual enjoyment--he starts massaging his ass gently, squeezing a little. It feels even better than the thigh massage, better than when Newton massages his leg. Hermann’s neglected prick finally begins to take an interest. “At least you’re all pink. It’s hot.”

“Ah,” Hermann moans, clutching at the bed and arching into Newton’s touch. “Oh, that’s lovely, Newton.”

Newton pats at him a few times. “Scoot on up,” he says, and Hermann obeys, or really, merely allows Newton to manhandle him from his lap to the bed and spread-eagle on his stomach. Newton crouches between his legs. “How’s this instead?” he murmurs, and kisses down Hermann’s spine, down lower, and lower, down to nip at the skin of Hermann’s left cheek, then right, then to drag his tongue over the light bitemarks.

“Oh, yes, Newton,” Hermann breathes, and Newton busies himself with doing something to Hermann far more enjoyable than the spanking.

[johnlockficclub]

Love or What You Will - Discussion Recap

Thank you again @sherlock-nanowrimo for taking over duties for me and @lediona25 this week! We very much appreciate it. DON’T FORGET next week is the author chat with @miss-frankenstein so be ready with your questions!

Here is @sherlock-nanowrimo recap:

And so concludes our story with a roller coaster of emotions for our boys and for us!   Sylvia Plath continued to be a theme with these chapters, and @Mazz06tea6  mentioned there is a line in the song Didn’t I See This Movie, “I’m no sociopath, I’m no Sylvia Plath.”  Apropos given how Sherlock was really moved by Plath’s poem.  

@one-thousand-splendid-stars    noted “I really appreciate that Sherlock doesn’t turn his nose up at the study of literature. I personally know a lot of sciencey people who have such a superiority complex and think English is a useless field of study. But Sherlock just dives right in with everything he has and genuinely appreciates it and never once makes a derogatory comment about the sciences being more complex or useful. I love that so so so much.” We observed that there were some departures from some of the usual tried and true tropes and it was a refreshing change of pace.

@Mazz06tea6 “liked the absence of miscommunication-based mutual pining” and “interesting to see “I’m trouble, in and of myself” followed up with the actual trouble being from the outside.”  Also noting that “the story doesn’t end with True Love’s First Kiss™”

Speaking of which, certainly we were affected by Sherlock’s rejection of John: @yorkiepug “when they FINALLY KISSED and then sherlock took off. I died.” @inevitably-johnlocked   “I will admit to being annoyed that sherlock just stopped talking to John, but after I got over that and read some more, I understood why he did it.  He was so afraid because he was like “I will consume you and I can’t do that to you"”

@one-thousand-splendid-stars and @yorkiepug commiserated over their behavior during the proctoring of the exam, studiously avoiding looking at or touching each other.  

@sherlock-nanowrimo “well Sherlock, you didn’t want to ruin this great friendship.  How’s that working out for you?”

Everyone was pretty happy that Moriarty’s role was short and mainly just served the purpose of playing deus ex machina moriarty to Sherlock getting his act together:

@Mazz06tea6 “it was all about Sherlock and John and poetry, we weren’t really all that interested in seeing exactly how MorMor got caught and brought to justice.”

@one-thousand-splendid-stars “i was glad it didn’t turn into a actiony case fic”

@inevitably-johnlocked “I was  so happy that Moriarty played a very minor role.  I was more interested in their (Johnlock ) relationship”

There was some confusion over whether the e-mail that brought John to Sherlock’s office was from him or Moriarty.  That’s a question we could ask the author next week!

We debated on Moriarty’s motivation for luring John to the lab if his focus was on Sherlock, and we pretty much concluded that he was jealous that Sherlock was focused on John.

It was all worth it because Sherlock finally realized just how much John loved him and we got to squee over their reunion:

@yorkiepug “I like that they made up and had kissy time in the back of an ambulance. @sherlock-nanowrimo “I will always love the canon of John’s witty little quips making Sherlock laugh. Earlier in the fic, John was loving the change that had come over Sherlock from their first meeting, and then his heartbreak over Sherlock’s return to coldness.  So the laugh was so important to him. “

The epilogue was a fluffy success: @yorkiepug “I’m glad by the end of the fic our two boys are living together in bliss.  And that they are going to go to the Xmas party again as a couple! SWOOM”

@sherlock-nanowrimo “The normally antisocial Sherlock will be going up to everyone at the party.  "Yes, hello, have you met my partner, Doctor John Watson?” @inevitably-johnlocked “Sherlock is so smoll I love him”

We all love him, but of course John loves him best.  He really adores Sherlock in this fic, and it was heartbreaking that Sherlock almost gave him up because he didn’t think it was possible that John could be just as crazy about Sherlock as he is about John.  Thanks to Moriarty and his propensity to blow things up, he made Sherlock realize the errors of his ways.  His reward is to go to jail as a mere footnote in a very sweet and fluffy epilogue where Sherlock and John finally get to dance together. — sherlock-nanowrimo

[deelaundry]

Had to split my House/RSL stash into groups

Clothing: Unofficial House/Wilson heart shirt (old and worn), a crossover Watson MD shirt (which is wrong because in UK they don't get a MD degree but a MBBS), official PPTH t-shirt and scrub pants sold by NBC (Xmas gift), and a lab coat I got for $5 to complete the outfit. You can tell it's House's because it's horribly wrinkled.

House books, ball, and videos (yes I have 2 copies of S1), great House & Wilson article, THE tv Guide mag which I had signed by RSL, a Wall Street Journal article about fanfiction (? ! !!!). Also a "I <3 my gay dads" button a friend bought me based on my longest fic series, which was Hilson kidfic.

My fave hard-copy articles/photo spreads, from Entertainment Weekly (RIP), TV Guide, Parade, and WebMD magazine.

Other House fannish things. You can see the PPTH ID card a friend made for me along with a PPTH pencil. The picture on the left is of the actual bulletin board in the House writers room, notable because it includes a piece of fan art titled Loving Gay Doctors.

And here's the fanart!!! Not done by me!

Finally, my RSL memorabilia - playbills/tickets, movies of various quality, and digital files of theater work sent to me by friends. <3 <3 <3

my current mental illness collection minus the notebook and shirt that i fucking lost

[pengiesama]

Baby, All I Want for Christmas Is You (Fic, Sorey/Mikleo, Modern AU/Xmas)

Title: Baby, All I Want for Christmas Is You Series: Tales of Zestiria Pairing: Sorey/Mikleo Summary: Snow fairy Mikleo enters Saint Nicholas' employ as a Christmas elf after years of study. His first assignment causes him to make the acquaintance of the human boy Sorey, and though they can only meet in secret once a year, their friendship grows deeper and deeper -- until Sorey's got a Christmas wish that only Mikleo can grant. (Modern AU, Christmas AU...?)

Link: AO3

This is for the SorMik Advent Calendar! I was assigned the prompt "Christmas elf". Thanks so much to @flarelunari for arranging the event, and please check out the other fic in the collection!

Read on Tumblr!

For Mikleo, this holiday was the start of a prestigious new career.

Born from a snowdrop flower (like most snow fairies of his kind), he’d spent the first hundred years of his life dutifully helping his fellow winter spirits tend to the various chores of the season: blanketing the world in white and ice, casting spells of sleep upon plants and hibernating animals; kissing each petal and leaf and damp wet nose and wishing them all restful, sweet dreams until spring’s loud trumpets sounded another year of toil.

Upon his hundredth birthday, he was allowed to apply to Saint Nicholas’ academy to earn the chance to be a Christmas elf. His entry exam and interview went swimmingly, and soon, he was attending his first day of classes – it seemed like no time at all until he was receiving his certification before an excited crowd, and being pulled into a tearful embrace by his proud mother. First in his class, a sterling record and unblemished GPA. As was expected.

What Mikleo didn’t expect was to get stuck on toy line duty. Yes, he was a newbie – some of his new coworkers had been here for a millennium or more. But he had a degree, and his course advisors had written him such glowing letters of recommendation: extolling his dutifulness, his impressive magical potential, his fine eye for details, his nimble wings and feet and hands. Mikleo was so sure that he would be tasked with reconnaissance work: making maps of new housing projects and home interiors, or studying human anthropological trends to determine projected gift-crafting needs. His uncle had been a pioneer on these fronts – the basics of his protocols had brought the factory into the twenty-first century. If they just allowed Mikleo to work alongside him in the library and research labs, he was sure that even more glorious improvements could be made.

But no, it was all about seniority here. Mikleo sullenly put the finishing touches on yet another princess doll, blessed it with just a touch of magic, and packed it away – only for the next project to come clattering down the line. Mikleo sighed and started to get to work, but then a voice came into his earpiece.

“Hey newbie. Get down to the foreman’s office, there’s someone from upstairs who wants to talk to you.”

Someone from upstairs? The only person Mikleo knew in the upper floors of the factory was Uncle Michael, and he was usually engrossed in lab work or out in the field. Curiously, Mikleo made his way down to the head office, and came face-to-face with a living legend.

“Oh, you’re just as adorable as I’d imagined,” cooed Grand Elf Lailah.

She reached out to pinch Mikleo’s round cheeks. He wondered, somewhat bitterly, when his body would decide it was time for him to get a more mature-looking form. Even after a hundred years, he still resembled the human children that used to frolic on the snowbanks he created. It was a little humbling to face someone like Lailah, looking like this – more than a little humbling. It was said that Lailah was one of the first elves Saint Nicholas had in his employ, and she had seen more trials than Mikleo could even imagine. Why on earth was she here to see him?

“It’s—it’s an honor to meet you,” Mikleo managed to get out around Lailah continuing to marvel at the roundness of his cheeks.

“Yes, yes, splendidly round,” Lailah continued to babble. “I daresay Nicholas himself has competition--”

Lailah finally paused and came back to herself, with Mikleo’s cheeks pinched and stretched in her fingers. She “ahemed” and released them, giving them one last fond pat before she collected herself.

“Now Mikleo,” she said. “I’ve seen your course records, and I think we might be frittering away some of your potential with you cooped up in this factory all day. Might I ask if you’re interested in helping us with the year’s home scouting missions?”

Mikleo’s face lit up like the glittering trees that lined the factory’s halls.

 --

 Now this, this was more along the lines of what Mikleo had dreamed of when he applied to the academy.

His wings buzzed like a hummingbird’s as he flitted from window to window, peeping in each one, judging what would be the best entry point for the year’s coming gift drop. He’d already well surpassed his assigned homes for the day – this home was from next week’s list, and was marked with some sort of strange reference symbol. Mikleo would look up the meaning of the symbol later; he was just doing a quick preliminary survey of the building today, and would do a proper mapping of the whole thing tomorrow.

The place was gigantic. Mikleo phased through a window and began to wander the halls. The humans who lived here were clearly wealthy, but hadn’t made much effort in decorating; the whole home was quite Spartan in appearance. It was hard to believe the notes that a child lived here. Mikleo came upon a massive library, and his heart flipped. He’d already gone above and beyond his assignments today. He was fully glamoured, and so no humans should be able to see him. If he just went in to see what kind of collection they had here—

Mikleo heard a gasp as he entered the room, and his eyes fell upon the human child reading in the armchair by the fireplace. The human child who was staring right at him, mouth agape.

Uncle Michael’s contributions to the mapping system the factory used were numerous, but his system of reference symbols was perhaps once of the most appreciated. It had symbols for nearly any sort of note imaginable: for loud dogs, for cramped hallways, for collections of scary clown dolls. Mikleo had studied and memorized all of them – or so he thought. The symbol that Mikleo did not recognize had become quite rare in the recent years. Had Mikleo looked up the meaning, he might have gone in with more caution:

Spiritually-sensitive resident. Glamours no use.

“..are you an angel?” asked the human child, quietly. A boy, who looked just about the same age Mikleo looked to be.

Mikleo felt frozen in place, unable to think of what to do next. Of course he had been trained for situations where he was spotted, but learning it in theory was so much easier than remembering it in practice, and—

“You’re just as pretty as one,” the boy continued. He scooted over in his chair, and fixed Mikleo with a pleading look, one that seemed so…starved. “Can you sit and read with me? If you’re not too busy?”

What Mikleo did remember from training was that they were to keep human interaction to a minimum. It just posed too much of a risk, and they couldn’t risk getting attached and showing favoritism, and…but Mikleo’s heart ached so at the forlorn look of this boy, alone in this huge room, in this too-big house. Hesitantly, Mikleo fluttered over, and touched down on the arm of the chair where the boy sat. The boy stared up at him adoringly.

“I sometimes see people like you around,” the boy said. “But none of them have ever been so pretty.”

The boy smiled wide. It was more dazzling than the northern lights above the Pole’s white plains, and burned into his heart far more keenly.

“My name’s Sorey. What’s yours?”

Mikleo hesitated, but he was defenseless in the face of that smile.

“Mikleo. My name is Mikleo.”

 --

 Mikleo awoke from his dreams to the gentle chimes of his cuckoo clock, and stretched out underneath the covers. The lingering dream-memory of Sorey’s sweet smile left him with a particular kind of warm, wonderful heartache.

It had been years since that day. Even though they were only able to meet in person once a year during Mikleo’s scouting missions, he and Sorey had nurtured a deep friendship. Mikleo would hurry through his assignments, then rush to Sorey’s house for a few too-short hours. They would read together in front of the fireplace, curled up together underneath a blanket, enjoying tea and cookies Mikleo had brought with him straight from the factory’s kitchens – a delicacy few humans could ever boast to have experienced. Mikleo would tell Sorey of all the places he visited on his exploratory missions, would tell him about the silly things Grand Elf Lailah would have her normin familiars do to keep them on their toes in the off-season. Sorey seemed to hang on every word, just as his little fingers clung to Mikleo’s hand, silently pleading with him to stay an hour, two hours more.

They couldn’t risk having letters delivered, nor could Mikleo simply visit as he pleased – some years, when it was so painful to leave Sorey’s side that his heart ached for weeks after, he missed the freedom he possessed as a simple snow fairy. If he was still just a snow fairy, he could stay with Sorey through the winter months. He could trace little messages on the window in frost for him to wake to in the mornings, he could dance with him in whirling gusts of snow. He could kiss his cheeks until they glowed red with the chill from his lips, and send him off to school flushed and laughing, and with the promise that he’d be there to greet him when he returned. Mikleo was pained to know that Sorey had no one in his life to offer him such comforts in his place.

Mikleo had finally grown out of his childish stature and his chubby cheeks (much to Lailah’s lingering despair) – he seemed to grow and age alongside Sorey, which warmed his heart with a kind of secret, strange feeling. Even if he was only able to see Sorey once a year, even if Sorey was a human and he was a fairy, he was at least able to share something with him.

But, the time of year for scouting had already passed, and their too-brief meeting had already come and gone. Today was December twenty-fourth, and it was all hands on deck time for the factory. Mikleo rolled out of bed and creaked over to where he’d laid out his dress uniform for this most special of days – a fur-trimmed hooded red jacket, with a pine-green plaid bow to be looped around the neck, coupled with a large golden bell. White trousers and knee-high fur-trimmed tan boots completed the ensemble. It had looked obnoxiously cute on him when he had his more childish appearance, and now just looked somewhat ridiculous. Some of his coworkers could pull off the look, but he was pretty sure he’d never be one of them, no matter how much his physical age progressed.

Mikleo had just finished fastening the wide belt around his waist when he heard a knock on his door. He blinked, and headed over to answer it – most people weren’t awake at this hour, preferring to get as much sleep as they could before “doomsday” at the factory. Lailah greeted him when he opened the door. She looked resplendent and dazzling in her own dress uniform; and topped it with a fur-lined red cloak that spilled out for several feet behind her (Mikleo could spot some normin roaming underneath it, arguing amongst themselves), and a sparkling snowflake headdress.

“Mikleo,” she said. She smiled at him softly. “I happen to have a special mission for you, tonight. Straight from Nicholas himself.”

 --

 Christmas was usually a pretty lonely time for Sorey. He had a Christmas birthday, and that came with general suckiness of never really having a special day for himself. His mother had died around this time of year when he was a kid, and the lingering memories of watching her slowly fade away to illness were tangled up in the blur of colored Christmas lights and the crooning of the same sentimental songs on the radio. His father had gotten even more distant after all that. Sorey squinted and thought back – gosh, he couldn’t remember the last time he spent Christmas-slash-his-birthday with anyone at all. He always gave the housekeepers and his personal assistants the day off; they deserved it. They didn’t get paid to keep him company.

Sorey was well-read enough to realize that all this should have been enough to turn him into the subject of a Dickensian moral tale, but the holiday didn’t fill him with anger, or bitterness. Just loneliness, and a particular kind of warm, wonderful heartache – because about a month before Christmas, Mikleo would still come to visit him after doing his scouting runs. That too-short day was the brightest spot of his whole year. He imagined it was much the way Christmas was supposed to feel like to normal people.

Sorey had always been able to see…things. Some marvelous, some terrifying. (Mikleo was usually in the former category, except the times when he argued with Sorey about something in a book or journal.) When he was very young, he’d wished so hard that his sight would be taken from him – maybe then he’d stop getting teased at school, and maybe then the dark things that lurked at the edges of the forest would stop calling to him. In retrospect, he now knew that having his other-sight blinded wouldn’t have helped the teasing, as he would have still been an incorrigible nerd and bookworm. And even if it would have stopped him from seeing the terrors that lurked about, it also would have blinded him to seeing Mikleo on that fateful afternoon. Sorey would face a hundred dark things if it meant he could see Mikleo for even an hour more, even a minute more.

He glanced at the clock. He’d be eighteen in about ten minutes. He wondered if he’d really been wishing for the same thing in his letters to Santa for ten years. He knew they were getting read – he got the books he listed on there as a postscript, after all. After two years of the letters, he’d determined to stay awake and plead his case to Santa in person – it was only right and proper for what he was asking, Sorey reasoned. Santa looked so surprised when Sorey ambushed him as he appeared in the library fireplace, and seemed to listen to Sorey’s request with a thoughtful look on his face…but then he just patted Sorey’s head and told him to hurry off to bed. Undaunted, Sorey continued to ask, and ask, and ask. Year after year after year, ambush after ambush after ambush. This year was and would be no different.

The library’s grandfather clock chimed the hour, and Sorey adjusted the blanket around his shoulders as he got up from his favorite old chair. He had a special tray of cookies from the local bakery that Santa seemed to enjoy last year, and was ready to hand it over and plead his case once more. He was nothing if not persistent. He didn’t have anything else going on tonight, after all.

The fireplace twinkled with magic, but it was different than it always was – the magic billowed out of the fireplace and swirled around Sorey, embracing him with a pair of familiar arms. Sorey was helpless but to return the hug, and felt himself leaning into it, breathing in a scent that was so sweet. He hadn’t smelled it in…well, about a month now.

“Sorey. Happy birthday. Merry Christmas.”

Sorey could scarcely believe his ears. Nor his eyes, as he pulled back from the hug just enough to see Mikleo there in his arms, smiling up at him. He especially couldn’t rely on his eyes when they started blurring with tears at the sight.

“Sorey,” Mikleo said, his own voice wobbling with emotion. He wiped at Sorey’s lashes with a gentle thumb. “Shh, don’t cry. I—Lailah told me that the council reviewed your requests, and—and they finally told me what you wished for all these years, and they approved me to--”

Sorey let out a sob, and kissed Mikleo’s soft lips, over and over, just as electric and sweet as it had been that first time when Sorey was fifteen and desperate to stop Mikleo from leaving him again. Mikleo’s hand came up to cup at the back of his neck, and held him in place for a longer, deeper kiss. Sorey scooped him up and backed them both up until he felt his armchair behind him, and sat down heavily; wrapping his blanket around the both of them, clutching Mikleo close to him, never planning on letting him go.

Watching the scene through the observation mirrors in the factory’s main flight tower, Lailah sighed happily, dabbing at her eyes with her hankie.

“Oh, I do always love a Christmas romance,” she said mistily. She squinted at the mirror again, and let out a little gasp. She turned red, and covered her eyes with her hands – but peeped just a bit through her fingers. “Oh my! Mikleo, you do still have those round cheeks after all…”

 --

 Were you to enter Saint Nicholas’ office, you would find cabinets of saved letters from children and adults across the world, from across the centuries. There were hundreds – thousands of these cabinets, all lovingly crafted and cared for by Saint Nicholas himself.

Under Sorey’s name, the letters were all the same, ever since that fateful meeting.

It was a simple request:

Dear Santa,

Please let me spend every day with Mikleo, forever.

Love,

Sorey

P.S.: And maybe a renewal subscription to Archaeology Monthly would be nice, too.