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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Northern Exposure | Something in the Air

❄ Part 1 of the mini-series ❄

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); violence, creepiness on part of our boys, predatory behaviour, Bucky’s an asshole, they’re all too lonely and too desperate, mistaken identity.

This is dark! fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, A Bad Time x Reader

Series Synopsis: You’re a nature photographer stationed up north but the arctic isolation comes to an unexpected and unpleasant end.

Note: I started this ages ago and finally got the energy to finish, it’s four parts and provided my life doesn’t continue to fuck around I should have em all up in the next days. Also as always, cracking away at all the other fics I’ve hooked you into.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The days were short and the nights long. So far north, time seemed not to exist as you chased the fleeting sun with your lens. Your existence was only demarcated by the fortnightly delivery of supplies left at your door as you were often out pursuing an elusive snow fox or wakeful owl. The world seemed small up here and you felt like the only person left alive.

Perched up on a branch precariously, you teetered as you focused your camera at its end. It was the perfect composition, snow blurred in the background as you focus on the scratching along the bark, the remnants of some owl or smaller critter. An abstract in your series, certainly, but interesting nonetheless. Besides, your editor would be happy enough with the close up you’d captured of a reindeer, its antlers the focal point of the shot.

Content, you climbed down, barely keeping yourself from slipping entirely down the trunk to a crash landing. Back on the ground, your boots sank into the snow, halfway up your calf, and you capped the lens of your camera. You tucked it under your parka and glanced around at the sparse grey trees.

Your eyes flew up as you heard a snap in branches not far from those you stood beneath. You held your breath and listened. It might be another opportunity. The early flight of an owl. You followed the sound, your steps muffled by the snowy carpet below. But that natural silence of the arctic returned and you ended up searching for air. Not a noise.

You sighed and turned back to look at the horizon. It was growing dark and you were best to return to your little cabin before long. It would be a moonless night and without the silver guardian above, it would make a nocturnal trek even harder. As you took a step, it seemed to echo and you stopped again. Your ears perked up and you shifted your hat to hear a bit better.

There was nothing. You frowned and turned. Only the snow and the trees against the greying sky. You shrugged off your unusual paranoia and carried on. You took the treacherous path back to your remote habitat. It was just you and your cameras; you and the north. An assignment you’d loathed at first but come to cherish. Isolation had a keen way of introducing one’s self to them.

You stepped up onto the small porch, the aluminum roofing and the tarnished and dented siding made it seem like little more than a lost shed. There was a single room inside, a small bed with a woven blanket, a wooden counter with an old basin and a stove top run on gas. The out house was further back, hard to find in a storm, but as long as you counted your steps, you rarely got lost.

You pushed through and turned the wooden latch that held the door shut. You untied your boots on the salt-stained rubber mat and left them there as you hung your damp, cold parka and shed your thick snow pants. You took off your hat and gloves and left them on the small shelf beneath the hook.

You took out a can of chili and dumped it in the small scratched pan. You lit the burner and sat on the single chair built of logs as you waited for it to warm. The wind swept up outside the shuttered windows and you shivered. You went to the small woodstove and twisted the iron handle of the door. You carefully built a fire as the smell of your dinner filled the cabin.

You left the door of the stove open to heat up the place and turned off the burner. You moved the pot onto the counter and took a bowl from the cupboard. A distant clatter sounded from outside. You frowned and kept yourself from grabbing the pot. You sighed as the noise repeated.

Several times before the wind had torn open the outhouse door and slammed it back and forth throughout the night. One time, it had been a curious bear. You hoped for the former as you shoved your feet into your boots and haphazardly pulled on your jacket. In and out. You’d secure the door and be back for your dinner before it got cold.

Outside, the sky had almost darkened entirely. You clicked on the flashlight you kept by the door and shut it behind you. You stomped down into the snow and squinted at the circle of light as you rounded the edge of the house. You neared the outhouse and sighed as you found it locked up tight. It couldn’t have been your imagination; you’d heard something.

You huffed and turned back. You swept the flashlight back and forth as you searched for a creature sneaking around or whatever item the wind had tried to carry away. There was nothing. You followed your footprints back to the house and climbed up the steps.

The door was open and you noticed the much larger puddled footprint on the porch too late. The fire had been snuffed and the single lantern was dead. Your wrist was grabbed as you tried to angle the flashlight around the room and you were drawn inside and pinned against the door.

A cold barrel pressed to your chin and your eyes widened. Your arm was twisted up until the flashlight blinded you and lit the unfamiliar face before you. You blinked and shook your head helplessly.

“Quite the hiding spot,” The deep voice added to the icy nip of the air.

“What--”

“Don’t try to act dumb. It might’ve worked with Wilson but not me.” He snarled and you released the flashlight as you tried to wriggle free. “Stop!”

The light fell to the floor and bounced as he wrenched your arm up and pushed the gun harder under your chin.

“I have orders to take you alive… if I can,” he sneered, “doesn’t mean I will.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you grunted as he had you on tip toes against the wall, the flash light rolled on the floor and sent shadows around the room, “I’m not… I’m not whoever you think I am.”

“Save it, Ursa,” he hissed and pulled you away from the wall, gun still taut to your skin, “0r should I say Astur.”

“No, no, it’s not me,” you pleaded, confused as he turned you away from him and angled you towards the bed, the muzzle now pressed to the back of your head. “I’m just a photographer. You’ll see. Look through my stuff. It’s just cameras and photos. It’s--”

“Shut up,” he pushed on the back of your knees with his, “on your stomach.”

You got down, barely able to see and unwilling to resist with a bullet waiting behind you. He pushed you into the mattress until you were still. He pulled back the gun and planted his knee on your back as he held you down. He holstered his firearm then pulled your arm back behind you and then the other. He used a zip tie to secure your hands there before he did the same to your ankles.

He carefully stepped back and you turned your head to watch his shadow. He didn’t bother with the flashlight as he closed the door. Then he turned and kicked the light so it cracked and the bulb died. He sat in the chair, it groaned dangerously under him.

You could see little of him as all light was gone but for the sudden glow of a screen before him. You only saw the glint of his blue eyes before he put it against his cheek. You turned onto your side and he growled.

“Don’t even think of moving,” he warned. “Hey,” he spoke into the speaker. “I just sent the coordinates. Target secured.” He listened, “by morning?”

He pulled the phone away and dimmed the screen. You could only hear the wind as he sat there and you sensed his unwavering gaze in the dark. With your jacket undone and your boots untied, you felt the draft that blew through the cabin walls. You shivered and he let out a thick breath. A snarl almost.

“I really don’t know what’s going on,” you said.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“I mean it. You have to look. Look around, you’ll see,” you pleaded.

He snorted and didn’t move. You rolled your eyes helplessly and another chill ran through you.

“Please--”

“I already looked. When you were out climbing trees,” he intoned. “I saw the photos. Very thorough reconnaissance.”

“What? Pictures of birds and snowflakes?” You uttered.

“You’re good. That whole innocent ploy is convincing,” you heard his boot drag over the wooden floor, “almost.”

You deflated, your wrists chafed and your teeth chattered.

“You gonna wait all night… for whoever that was?”

“I’m tired of telling you to shut up.”

“You leave me like this, I’ll freeze to death. You too.”

“I won’t,” he said, “you might.”

“You said you had orders.”

“Circumstantial,” he countered.

You exhaled deeply and bent your legs as you tried to curl into yourself. He tutted and stood, the floor creaked. The stove door whined and you heard the iron poker against the kindling. He mumbled as he relit the fire and stirred it until the biggest log caught. He rose and set aside the poker and resumed his seat.

The fire’s amber haze limned his figure in the dark. His broad shoulders were wider than the back of the chair, his long hair poked out from beneath a wool cap, and his hand formed a tight fist on the arm. He leaned his head back and sniffed.

“There,” he said sharply, “nice and cozy.”

You wiggled on the bed, trying to get comfortable. You pulled on your wrists and ankles and only caused your hands and feet to throb. You grunted and relented, resigning yourself to lay listless atop the thin mattress.

“You’re wasting your time--”

“I’m about to shove your sock in your mouth so I suggest you shut the fuck up,” he barked.

You gulped and closed your eyes in surrender. Well, maybe his friends would realise his mistake. Or maybe they’d just add to your predicament.

❄

You didn’t really sleep, you languished. The man didn’t either. You could tell. He just watched. Frighteningly patient as the night critters made a ruckus outside. He barely even moved as you fidgeted, your shoulders sore and your legs cramping.

Then there was a sudden change that even you felt. A heavy pair of boots climbed up onto the porch and the handle jiggled, the door stopped by the wooden latch. The man rose and crossed to the door. You heard the subtle brush of fabric and metal as he pulled out his gun. He pulled open the door slowly, at the ready, the slightly lesser dark seeping in.

“Sooner than I thought,” the man greeted his comrade. Your heart froze as another set of footfalls followed. A third man entered behind the second.

“Jesus, why are you sitting here in the dark?” The third man asked, “there a light or something?”

“She’s on the bed.” The first man grumbled. “Only a rifle hidden under there. I already disarmed it.”

The sudden electric glow of the lantern bloomed to life. Your eyes slowly adjusted as you stared at the three men. There were all big, all broad-shouldered, all stood like soldiers as they communed around the only chair. The third, the one who’d clicked the lantern on, neared you.

“She’s putting on a front, but--” the first man began and the third one raised his hand to silence him as he knelt by the bed.

He had a kind face, his brown eyes were warm, and the finely trimmed goatee lent him a sense of lightheartedness. His expression however was hard and turned to confusion then disappointment as he held the lantern close and grabbed your chin, turning your head back and forth.

“Not her,” he released you and stood, “fucking Christ, Bucky. It’s not fucking her.”

The second man snorted, “really?”

“It’s gotta be--” the first insisted, “the gun--”

“For hunting,” you said dully, “not that I do much of that. I use it to scare away the wolves.”

“Shut up.” He snarled and crossed his arms as he turned his back to you, “you’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t forget the woman who nearly slit my throat. Twice.” The other said, “and really? A single rifle? You think that’s all she’d have?”

“She has photos too. The bunker, due north. She’s got dozens.” The first insisted.

“Bunker?” You whispered.

“I’m not going to tell you to shut it again,” the man turned as he raised a hand and the blond, the one who hadn’t said much at all, caught his wrist.

“Hey,” the other man warned, “she’s innocent. She probably has no idea what she was taking pictures of.”

“Yeah, but now she knows our faces. No doubt recognizes you, pretty boy,”tThe third offered, “and idiot here assaulted her and tied her up.”

“All the way up here? Who’s she gonna tell?” The blonde returned.

“She has a radio,” The first, Bucky offered. “It’d be enough to give us away.”

“They’d believe her? If she’s been up here long, they might not.” The blonde glanced over the others shoulder, “you apologize and we can--”

“You really wanna leave another loose end?” Bucky challenged as he blocked his gaze.

“You should’ve confirmed before you jumped,” the third huffed.

“If we’re not gonna leave her, what do we do?” The blonde asked.

They all went silent. They looked at each other and then you. Bucky raised his gun, still in hand, and the blond caught him again. He shook his head and tisked.

“Are you crazy?” He pushed his hand down, “We’re not killing her. She didn’t do anything.”

“I agree, she shouldn't die because you’re stupid,” the other chuckled.

“Well, Einstein,” Bucky snipped, “what do you suggest?”

The third man’s brows raised slowly and he tilted his head. He glanced at you again then back to his comrades. He shrugged and a grin spread across his face.

“The bunker. It’s empty. Safe.” He said quietly, “How much of a fight did she put up?”

“Enough of one,” Bucky muttered.

“She’s… not bad. She’s all alone up here. Even if someone noticed she went radio silent, it’d have to take a while,” he explained.

“What are you saying?” The blonde frowned.

“If she has the photos, if she knows where the bunker is and this moron’s blurted out some intel, I just know it,” he continued, “we can’t let her go. He’s at least right about that. So… we don’t wanna kill her, we keep her.”

“Keep her? For what?” Bucky scoffed.

The man was silent and winked at them. The blonde peeked over at you and Bucky dropped his head as he gripped his hip.

“Come on, you guys,” he threw up his hand as the blonde shifted on his feet. “It’s fucking cold up here and it’s been awful lonely everywhere else. We’re running around with no finish line in sight and… well, I’m about to stab one of you and I’ve seen the way you,” he pointed at Bucky, “look at me. I don’t trust that.”

“You can’t mean--” the blonde muttered.

“She’s better off dead,” Bucky insisted.

“Just because you’re a monk, doesn’t mean the rest of us need to be.”

“Hmm,” the blonde tapped his toe.

“You’re not really considering this?” Bucky sneered.

“Well… why not?” He rasped, “She’s… alone and… not too bad on the eyes.”

“And I have ears!” You sat up awkwardly, “You want me to keep my mouth shut. Done. I’m up here trying to catch a few birds on a roll. I’m not here to get mixed up in whatever it is you three--” You blinked as the lantern shone in the blond’s face as the three men turned to you, “shit.”

Captain America’s eyes sparked with recognition as your head did the same. He knew you knew who he was; likely he saw that look every other day. There was no hiding it.

“I told you,” the third man chided, “that mug is hard to forget.”

“No, no, I don’t-- I won’t tell a soul. I swear. Please just whatever you’re thinking, don’t. I’m some dumb photographer they sent up here to document the snow. You really think anyone cares that much--”

“Not so much about you but those photos are pretty interesting,” Bucky neared and shoved you down and you barely kept from hitting your head on the wall, “don’t tell me you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“People go missing up here all the time. That’s why no one’s here,” the brown-eyed man said, “she’ll just be another and we’ll have a nice companion to keep us from killing each other.”

“No,” Bucky turned, “it’s my mistake. I’ll take care of it.”

“Put the gun away, Buck,” Steve Rogers ordered, “it’s not right. We can’t kill her. Even if she isn’t entirely innocent, even if you’re right about those photos. She’s better to us alive.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going along with this--”

“I’m the captain,” Steve insisted. “I’ve made up my mind and I’m giving you an order. Sam’s right. She’s more use alive. If she has information, we’ll get it out of her. And if she doesn’t well, we can find something else to do with her.”

Bucky swore and pushed his gun into his holster. He stepped away from you and shouldered past the one called Sam.

“Yes, captain,” he said dryly.

“Sergeant,” Steve retorted and nodded to Sam, “get her up. We should leave before the sun rises.”

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anashins · 3 years

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No Talking in the Library || Taeyong

"Losing my virginity? Better say taking someone’s virginity. Triple check."

There are still so many things you want to do in your last semester before graduation, and Taeyong is willing to help you.

_______

Skinny dipping

Partying all night long

Drinking hard shots

Dancing on a bar counter

Playing spin the bottle

Getting completely drunk

Attend an illegal rave

Kiss s/o I just met

Ditch classes

You inhaled deeply and tucked the sheet back into your dress’s pocket and out of your sight, your thoughts revolving around the last point you’ve written again.

Losing my virginity

You were already a few months into your last year of university and yet you still felt like you hadn’t experienced everything a normal college kid should have once done in their young lives.

That you hadn’t really lived so far.

Looking at your friends, they had left you behind a long time ago in the first semester already when it came down to checking off bucket lists. It wasn’t like you were too shy or stayed away from parties and boys, though. The opportunity just had never arisen, and only now you realized that it probably never would if you wouldn’t take fate into your own hands.

You were sick and tired of waiting for the perfect moment and the perfect guy.

Looking at your watch, you realized it was nearly time for your next class and that you slowly had to get going.

Passing by different bookshelves, you were pondering whether to still search for lecture here in the library to read through the weekend in preparation for the project you had to work on the next week, but you quickly resisted the urge to do so as you had already collected enough and headed straight to the door.

“Watch out!” you still heard before the next thing you felt was pain crippling your face.

Only the break of a second was needed before numbness turned into pain and shot through your nerves that even reached the tips of your fingers with the root of the ache being your nose.

“Oh my god!” you squealed and brought your hands to the middle of your face while tears welled up behind your squinted eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” a male voice said, full with panic.

When you dared to open your lids, you looked into the eyes of the guy who had banged the entry door right into her face.

“You nearly killed me!”

“I’m so sorry, y/n!”

When he mentioned your name, you turned keen-eared. Blinking through your tears, you slowly started to get a sharper view of the boy in front of you as well. Just slightly taller than you, dark hair, and an expression as shocked as yours.

You just didn’t know his name anymore.

“Does it hurt that bad? Shall we go to the ward to get a cooling pad or something?”

You shook your head and slowly brought your hands down again. The guy had a hard time biting down the smile that threatened to slip off his lips. With care, he touched your arm in a comforting gesture to reassure you.

“I’m sorry, but you totally look like Rudolph the reindeer now.��

You sniffed. “Yes, thanks to you!”

“Okay, that’s true,” he admitted and retreated his hand. “How about I make it up to you, hm?”

“Uh…” You stared at him, yet you still weren’t able to classify his familiar face.

“Hey!” You suddenly got interrupted by the library’s supervisor, a middle-aged woman who was always wearing a frown and owned the hearing of a bat. “No talking in the library! Go inside or leave, but this door has to be closed, understand?”

You nodded, and the guy made a move to pass by the librarian, but not without whispering to you “Come here!” before you disappeared into the library again, the door closing shut behind you.

Having you by his arm, he dragged you along the rows of bookshelves until he found a quiet corner in the very far back of the library. All the while when you were looking at his back, you tried to remember where you knew him from.

And then it suddenly came into your mind.

When you opened the group convo with your friends, his face would appear right next to the unsaved contact that your friend Johnny had added two days prior.

It was Lee Taeyong.

Johnny, Ten, and Jaehyun’s new roommate who you had also met once before at Johnny’s birthday party last week.

“Hey, at least your nose is not red anymore, huh?” he laughed when he came to a hold.

“Banging a door into my face again, Taeyong?” you asked back. “I have to admit, this is kind of a weird way to hit on a girl.”

“You know my name! Admittedly, even just now I wasn’t so sure whether you remembered.”

“That was true, but once the pain vanished and I looked at your back, that scene seemed very familiar to me.”

He grinned. “Johnny’s birthday party, yes, I banged a door into your face back then as well. I’m sorry, I am actually a gentleman, I just didn’t have a chance to prove it yet. I hope this isn’t becoming our thing now.“

“You mean… you banging doors into my face? I hope not, because you actually seem like a nice guy, and otherwise I have to do a runner right now. I’d like to live a few years more.”

“My roommates wouldn’t like the thought that I scared their friend away, so let’s keep this a secret, alright?”

He winked and you laughed. You liked his humor very much and were wondering why you two hadn’t talked before at Johnny’s party.

„Oh, what’s this?“

Taeyong lifted his hand and picked up something white from the floor. He inspected his finding and then frowned. The next moment, he presented something to you that hadn’t been supposed to get seen by anyone else aside from you. The sheet. Apparently it had fallen out of your pocket while hurriedly walking!

You blushed up to her ears and snatched it out of his hand. “Don’t read this!”

He shrugged. “Well… it was quite hard not to miss the significant writing while picking it up, so…”

“Ugh…” You rolled your eyes into oblivion and wished for a hole to appear right under you to vanish in there right now.

You felt your ears burning and a hot flush running down your back as you remembered the last point you had written down. A stranger knowing about your virgin life! Embarrassing!!

“Do you… actually mean this?”

“Mean what?” you questioned with a shaky voice.

You hadn’t heard the slightest tone of mockery in his voice, you then noticed, and when you dared to look at him again, his gaze was even radiating curiosity, far from scorn.

“The points on this list.”

“Please don’t make fun of me!” you defended yourself. “You don’t know me or why I did this in the first place, so…”

You wanted to quickly pass by him and escape from the scenery, but he grabbed you by your arm and made you stop.

“What I know,” he then spoke, “is that you’re a kind and funny girl, apparently looking for the full college experience, am I right? I would never make fun of someone for that.”

“Okay… thank you. And I’d prefer if you won’t tell anyone about that.”

“That’s a given.”

“So… having checked off anything yet?“

You shook her head, suddenly feeling a weird knot in your stomach. “I just made this today. But now that someone knows about it, it’s probably ridiculous.”

“I don’t think that it’s ridiculous. You just want some fun, what’s so wrong about that?”

You hadn’t looked at this from another point of view, but now Taeyong was giving you his perspective. And he sounded so nonchalant and positive about it that you suddenly didn’t feel as exposed and embarrassed as before.

“You know what I think?” he then blurted out.

“What?” Now, you grew curious.

“I think you need someone to guide you through it, and many more experiences. Go hard or go home.” He grinned. “Someone who’s done all that already.”

“And you’re such a person?” you challenged.

“Let me see.”

Taeyong took the sheet from you again and read through the list. “Skinny dipping? Check. Partying all night long? Every weekend. Drinking hard shots? Also every weekend. Dancing on a bar counter? Double check, except for that one time I fell off. Playing spin the bottle? Boring, but check. Getting completely drunk? More checks than I can remember. Attend an illegal rave? Double check. Kiss someone I just met? I’m not counting this one anymore. Ditch classes? At least once a month. Losing my virginity? Better say taking someone’s virginity. Triple check.”

“Okay I understand!” You yanked the paper out of his hand again. “You probably had a few years to experience all this, and I only have the rest of my senior year left.”

“Why the rush?” Taeyong asked.

Reluctantly, you answered, “I’m leaving the country for my PhD.”

He nodded. “I see.”

Folding the sheet in your hands, you tucked it back into your pocket. “But please don’t tell the guys, I haven’t opened up to them about my future plans yet, but I want to tell them personally when the time is right.”

“Of course.” Taeyong paused. “Well, then what’s stopping you from joining a party with me tonight to get started?”

“The fact that I barely know you yet?”

“Hm, of course, you’ve got a point.” Taeyong pursed his lips and seemed to ponder over something. “Why haven’t we really talked before though at Johnny’s birthday party?”

“I really cannot remember what happened after you’ve banged the door into my face.” You chuckled. “I probably went to cry in the bathroom and then we’ve just lost sight of each other, because you haven’t found a weird sheet from me like today.”

“So… Since you only could remember me just now, we can technically say we’ve just met, right?”

“I’d sign that.”

“Great.”

You barely had time to wonder why he was grinning from ear to ear yet again when you felt Taeyong’s lips on yours the next moment.

They were soft and warm, his movements gentle at first, and he tasted so fresh and minty, and a little bit sweet as though he had drunk some fruit juice just before. Very summerly, and very manly.

His sudden kiss had left you speechless as well as motionless in the beginning, but you, now in high spirits, started to take pleasure in this act not long after his first move as you leaned against him and were welcomed with open arms.

Taeyong was a very handsome guy, there was nothing to deny about that fact, and he was a good kisser on top of that.

His hands made your body angle so that he could circle his arms around your waist and pressed you firmly against him. With your hands, you wandered upwards and sunk your fingers into his fluffy hair just in the moment Taeyong made you part your lips to deepen the kiss with his tongue.

Of course you had kissed boys before. Just because you were still a virgin didn’t mean you had never made out with someone.

But you had never made out with someone this good before.

Although you had gotten a door into your face shortly before, you weren’t so sure whether it was truly only the aftereffects of a possible head injury or Taeyong’s uninterrupted, passionate and oh-so-good kissing or both that got you feel so lightheaded and dizzy.

But what you knew was that you were enjoying that kiss very much.

And that you wanted more.

And Taeyong apparently as well as he proved it to you when his hands curved against your buttocks, and he gently shoved you backwards until your back rested against the wall behind you.

With his fingers, he felt the tender and glowing skin under your shirt’s bottom hem, massaging the spot there lightly as your hands simultaneously grabbed onto his shoulders and pulled him so close to you that no sheet would fit in the slit between you two anymore.

Secretly kissing in the library hadn’t been written down on your agenda, but you took whatever you could get to make your last semester a memorable one.

This was so fun to you that you started to think that this bucket list that you had made wasn’t that much of a bad idea after all if every single one of the experiences would leave you that excited as kissing Taeyong.

When you parted, he was still wearing that grin that now seemed more sweet than smug to you, and you joined him.

“Kiss someone you just met? Check.”

“Well, then our meeting here didn’t go to waste after all,” you concluded.

Admittedly, you wanted more. And by the way Taeyong looked at you, still so turned on and dreamy, he didn’t seem to loathe that idea as well.

“How about putting another point up that list?”

“Such as…?” You tilted your head.

“Making out with someone you’ve just met at a party?”

You playfully looked away as though you were in deep thoughts, but to you, the answer was clear the moment he had proposed the idea to you. “I think that’s an experience I shouldn’t miss as well.”

Just as Taeyong let out a relieved laughter and leaned in to you again, you heard a familiar,

“No talking in the library!”

In front of them stood the librarian with the worst timing ever.

“Technically, we weren’t talking,“ Taeyong cleared up cheekily as he withdrew from you, and you nodded in approval.

The librarian though looked confused.

The wink Taeyong shot into your direction was only visible for you, and you blushed faintly as you agreed, “Yeah, we were anything but talking.”

„But I heard you!“ the elderly woman scolded.

“Well, we did something much more fun than talking,” Taeyong explained, but before the librarian could chide more, you laughingly escaped to the outside.

„So about the party…“ he then started as the library’s door closed behind you. „Since we’re technically no strangers anymore…“

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. „Perhaps, I’ll come to the party.“

„And then move on to check off the other points?“ He smirked.

You stuck your tongue out at him, but were really looking forward to tonight.

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itsthemoofacewriting · 3 years

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Just for a while

So I actually used this to get through my writer’s block and take a break from my other WIPs. Before I knew it, it was complete, so I figured I’d share it. It’s a bit drabble-ish and incredibly self-indulgent.

I tried to watch the film to get some of the scenes right, but then I kept getting swept away in the film, so there’s going to be to be differences. Then again, they weren’t a couple in the film, and I’ve added some scenes, so does it really matter?

Summary: Zoro was weak with children, Chopper was a prime example of that, and Nami was no exception. Film Z. Rating: T. Some suggestiveness.

This can also be found on AO3 and FFN.

Enjoy!

Zoro’s ears were ringing, screeching in protest at the loud noise from the blast, and his back hurt from being hurled across the ship. It was dull but it was there. But it reminded him that they weren’t in the clear yet and his reflexes were kicking in, grabbing for his swords, or at least trying to. His body was bound in thick green ropes that didn’t given an inch no matter how much he protested.

Smoke filled his nose, and he gave up on escaping for the time being to take in the view. It was hard to believe he’d managed to ignore it for this long. The ship was on fire, black smoke billowing from what seemed like every surface. The galley was gone, completely blown open and surrounded by flames licking their way further across the ship.

The scene was horrific. Sunny was in trouble.

It was hard to decide what to focus on first in all the chaos, but he quickly found something that made his stomach drop.

Luffy being crushed in a Z’s hand.

He looked weak and defeated, it was an awful look on him. Something that had Zoro wanting to grab for his swords to rectify the scene immediately.

Goddamn it. He needed out.

Like a dirty tissue, Luffy was thrown to the floor, apparently not worthy of being killed in a fight. Something Zoro knew would grate him, but at least there wasn’t an immediate threat of a dead Captain.

His gaze flitted quickly around to check everyone else was accounted for and somewhat okay. It stopped on what he presumed was Nami only a few feet in front of him. It looked like her, the orange hair a dead giveaway… but smaller. Much, much smaller. What the hell had been happening out here before? Frowning, he stored that thought away for later.

Shit. He needed to move. Now. He had to do something, they were in trouble and there he was just sitting around. Movement caught his eye and he saw the Cook also bound, struggling to be freed.

Shit, shit, shit.

Now it was really bad, all three of them were down.

Nami caught his struggling and ran over to him before he could call over to her. Her small hands were trying to pry the green vines away from him.

“Do I want to know why you’re a child?” His eyebrows were furrowed as he got a proper look at her. It was Nami alright.

“Not the time. Later,” she huffed, small hands gripping the vines and yanking on them, but they wouldn’t budge. She wasn’t strong enough right now.

And it wasn’t the time it seemed. Because the ship exploded around them as cannon balls relentlessly fired at them and it didn’t help Nami who was still attempting to free him. She was almost knocked off her feet when the ship was hit again and if she went overboard, no one would be there the dive after her. He was getting more and more frustrated by the second.

When he looked to his left, Chopper wasn’t getting much further with the cook.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Usopp, Franky and Brook were just as trapped as him.

And Luffy was furious. It was rare to see his Captain like that. He was back on his feet, quickly recovering, and hanging off the side of the ship, snarling at them to come back. Robin was doing her best to talk him down, but he wasn’t listening and Zoro could feel his already thin temper about to snap. At everything. It had all gone so wrong so quickly.

Him and the cook were useless.

Luffy couldn’t see past his own anger.

Nami was a child.

They’d lost.

But not everything.

Just as he was about to bark at Luffy to get his head on straight, Robin finally got through to him after another cannonball hit their ship and almost capsized them.

Luffy was in action then, freeing Franky, as Robin worked on securing herself and the others.

“Hold on,” Zoro commanded, now looking back down at Nami, who in all the chaos still hadn’t given up. Franky was just about to fire up a coupe de burst and the last thing he needed was her falling off the ship. Especially when he couldn’t go after her.

It didn’t take long for her to understand before she was nodding back and clinging to him as they sailed through the air away from the attack. He was too tied up to properly hold onto her, no matter how much he wanted to.

The mood was off when they landed on the first island available. Luffy’s face solemn as he stood with Franky assessing the damage to the ship. The rest of the crew left them, gathering instead across the water from the ship to discuss what had happened and what their next move was going to be.

He hadn’t been incredibly involved in the discussion; he’d been too focused on Nami. It was unsettling. She was still exactly the same, bold and bossy, but instead it was all packaged into a miniature body.

There was no way around it, she was cute, and it left him in a strange position. Normally he’d snark her, draw her into an argument, especially when she was somewhat upset, to take her mind off of it, but now he didn’t feel like he could. It was almost as bad as picking on Chopper.

Nami said something about being returned to normal, standing up outraged and he should have known that the moment the cook opened his mouth he would be annoyed.

Gritting his teeth, Zoro could feel his patience dangerously thinning. He was used to the idiot cook spouting off nonsense to Nami and that hadn’t changed when they had got together. Normally he’d just ignore it, it was hardly like he was a threat, and she could handle herself. But today already hadn’t been a good day and when the pervert started talking about her body, he was ready to fight.

Unable to resist, he uttered out an irritated, “Creep,” and that seemed to do it. The focus was on him then and Nami started to look comfortable again. As soon as the shoving starting, she was breaking them apart, just before a full-on brawl could start.

Disgruntled, Zoro looked across the waters to see Luffy peeling away from Franky with the old man and when they saw each other, Luffy nodded at him. That was his cue. Zoro stood and motioned with his head for them to start walking.

He slowed for a second, waiting for Nami to catch up before continuing forward. He was only a few strides in when he noticed she was struggling to keep up, stuck in a weird running walk pace. He laughed to himself, she was tiny now, her previously long legs were now replaced with stumps and she was too proud to say anything.

He had the urge to take her hand and the sudden thought surprised him. They’d never held hands before this, unless it was crowded or she was guiding him somewhere, they were fairly low key with their relationship unless alone. Yet the urge to do it was strong, and really, he knew why.

When she stumbled, he was bending down without a second thought to pick her up and her legs sitting around his waist on the side of his body. She weighed almost nothing, and, to his surprise, she didn’t resist. Which was fine, great even, because then he didn’t have to think about scrapped knees, but the cooing that started from behind them made the back of his neck feel hot. Zoro wasn’t sure if it was directed at him or Nami… or both of them. But that didn’t stop the red from spreading to his ears.

He had no idea what possessed him to do that, they weren’t very big on public displays of affection normally but Nami didn’t complain as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and determinedly looked everywhere but at his face.

Cute.

He was loath to admit it, lest he be compared to the pervert, but like this she was. He tried to shrug it off, ignoring the loud whispers from behind and act casual.

The next couple of days were going to be hard.

Zoro didn’t like it.

The older man that had been talking to Luffy and Franky had told them all about Z whilst giving them food and drinks. But that wasn’t the problem. They needed to gather more information about Z’s whereabouts, which again, wasn’t a problem but it had led to Nami announcing it would be down to her, Robin, Usopp and Chopper.

Apparently Zoro and the others were too obvious. Liabilities she’d called them. He wasn’t sure how that logic worked out, when they were going with a walking, talking reindeer that could changed forms at whim.

“I should go with you,” Zoro said, watching as Nami tied her sandal.

The group going out to get information already had their change of clothes and were getting changed in a secluded alleyway away from any nosey passers-by’s. She’d already changed into her dress and sandals, all that was left was her hair. They’d be going their separate ways after that.

Nami sighed, eyebrows furrowing as she looked up at him. “We’ve been over this, you’re too obvious.”

“And a talking reindeer and long nose isn’t?” It was a good point.

“Usopp’s great at sneaking and Chopper’s barely noticeable with how tiny he is now.”

“And if things go wrong?” He didn’t want to entertain that thought, but he still did. The island was swarming with marines.

“We have Robin and Usopp, it’s fine,” Nami assured. “Also, it won’t go wrong, I’m great at this.” She was trying to tie her hair into a ponytail but with how much hair she had and her little arms, she struggled.

He knew she was right; she was great at this. She did it long before he came around to back her up. Except she wasn’t herself right now, she was a miniature version of herself.

Zoro held his hand out, silently asking for the hair tie. “You’re not yourself right now.” He gathered her hair, his hands smoothed over her hair a few times to ensure no bumps, he didn’t need her nagging him, and looped the band around a few times.

She checked his work, hands roaming over her hair, searching for bumps that weren’t there before giving the ponytail a tug to tighten it. She didn’t praise him for his efforts, instead she dropped two golden bands in hands and turned to face him. That was his praise, he figured as he picked the bands to start working on the front.

Nami stood patiently in the gap between his legs as he worked. “And that’s exactly why we don’t need you and the others attracting attention.”

She had him there. Brook drew attention because, well, skeleton, that didn’t need to be explained. Zoro and Luffy were too well known, even without his swords and Luffy’s hat, but not so much Sanji…

“Take the cook then.” He was an idiot and had especially got on his nerves today, but he was strong and somewhat reliable.

“And at the first sight of a woman? We don’t have time to find him or reign him in.”

Screw that, he was good for nothing right now.

There was nothing more he could say. He didn’t mean to sound like he doubted his own crewmates, they were strong, and time and time again they’d proved that. But they weren’t their selves right now, they weren’t a whole. They had two much younger members than normal with an island full of marines.

Nami was a magnet for trouble at the best of times and the love cook was the least of his problems. It was common knowledge what could happen to children out in the new world. All it would take was one skilled person, or a moment of distraction and she’d be gone without a word.

The thought of that happening had a knot forming in his stomach and he was about to say that he was going whether they liked it or not, until Nami rested a small hand on his forearm and smiled up at him reassuringly. And like the sap that he was, he melted instantly, all the fight bleeding out of him.

He wasn’t sure if she knew of his weakness yet, but something told him she’d realise soon enough.

“Do you know how close we were to leaving you behind?” Nami berated, arms angrily crossed in front of her as she stood before him, not caring that the train was moving. Except her anger didn’t have the same effect as it usually did in her childlike form.

“You’ve said about five times already,” Zoro replied tiredly.

Their day had not improved at all. From the information group coming back with a hoard of marines on their tail, to Z shooting Luffy and the four of them almost being engulfed by lava whilst Nami and the others waited anxiously at the train station. Despite her anger now, when she’d seen them running towards the train, lava steadily overtaking the island just behind them, she’d looked relived.

He suspected Luffy still being passed out was to blame for her particularly sour mood, all the crew were worried in the packed train.

“Because you still don’t look like you get it.”

Naturally an angry child telling off an adult attracted attention, although Zoro didn’t really care about that, he just shrugged off the looks and focused on Nami. But when a man opposite from them gave her an appraising look that lingered far longer than acceptable, it put his back up. Zoro sent the man a scathing look that had him shrinking away as he scooped Nami onto his lap.

“I do. We made you worry,” he said, matter-of-factly, not taking his eye off the man until he got up to find somewhere else to sit.

The anger dispersed then, her frame relaxing on his lap as she got comfortable. “I’m going to go grey early; I swear.” She shook her head, but her tone was fonder than anything else.

They lulled into silence, swaying with the movements of the train, and letting the murmur from other passengers fill the quiet. Nami’s gaze slowly took in everyone, from strangers to the crew, one by one until it landed back on Zoro.

“It’s a shame you don’t dress like this more often,” Nami sighed, small hands playing with the collar of his neckline.

“Tch, not worth it. Too many layers.” He was already itching to take off the shirt. “Besides, I had a jacket on this morning.”

“Which is ruined now, do you know how hard it is to find a nice jacket that you’ll wear?”

“Because you insist that I wear a top underneath, pick either a top or a jacket, I’ll only wear one,” he told her, but the likelihood was he’d end up removing that too.

Whilst she was fussing over his jacket, trying to wipe some dirt off the fabric, her arm caught his attention. There were faint marks starting to bloom on her upper arm. He gently caught her arm and turned it to get a better look.

It was finger marks, four clustered together and a single one opposite.

Someone had grabbed her.

He’d guessed something had gone wrong earlier, based on the hoard of marines that had chased them all the way back to the rest of the crew, but he’d just thought a marine had finally recognised one of them. Not that she’d been grabbed and almost hauled way. It was exactly what he’d been worried about.

He looked at her sharply and she looked back at him warily.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” He’d focus on her first, he couldn’t exactly do anything with his anger when the person that’d hurt her was long gone.

“Don’t worry about it, I made it worse by resisting.” And Nami must have sensed it was the wrong thing to say because she quickly added, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

That didn’t help his anger, but she was right. She told him Robin came after her as soon as she’d seen, and it soothed him at least. Another example of how dependable his crewmates were.

He rubbed gently along her arm, smoothing over the marks and he wasn’t sure if it was for her benefit or his.

“You’ve been very affectionate,” she said observationally.

And there it was. His hand stuttered on her arm for a second before he caught himself and continued, trying not to react to what she’d said. It’d taken far longer than he’d thought for someone to say something, but there was nothing he could say in his defence and the last thing he was going to do was agree, so he stayed silent instead. Not that that would help him.

Nami smirked up at him as he refused to make eye contact or speak, but that didn’t stop her from continuing, “Who’d have believed the fearsome pirate hunter was soft around all children. I thought it was just Chopper.”

“I’m not, we’re together, it makes sense.” That probably didn’t sound appropriate to anyone eavesdropping, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“You don’t normally hold my hand or pick me up… And you’ve been much more obliging.”

“It was convenient. You’ve got stumpy legs and I’ve got places to be,” he easily lied.

She didn’t look convinced. “And now?”

He had nothing to say to that. He was the one that had dragged her onto his lap, his arms still firmly wrapped around her to ensure she didn’t fall if there was a sudden movement… and to let people know she wouldn’t be an easy grab. He tried not to think about what a sap he’d looked like since she’d been turned into a child, but his mind still unhelpfully played it on a reel. How he’d caved whenever she so much as looked at him, offered to do things for her without her having to nag him, didn’t argue with her.

How embarrassing. His ears burned.

“It’s cute that you tried to hide it.”

It was the glint in her eye that gave her away that made him realise.

“You knew?” He asked, but he already knew the answer.

“I had a hunch, I knew from the moment you first picked me up,” she smiled up at him evilly, all innocence gone from her face.

She was the devil. Mislabelled into an adorable, tiny package.

“It’s almost worth staying like this, you’re as easy as Sanji-kun,” she looked downright smug and there was no doubt in his mind that she was imagining having the both of them wrapped around her finger.

That had him gritting his teeth in disgust, to be compared to him. He was about to say something caustic, just to wipe that smug grin off her face, until her eyes turned large, and she looked up at him remorsefully, lip quivering.

She wasn’t sorry at all, he knew that, but those glossy eyes stopped the foul words in their tracks. He huffed, annoyed, and looked the other way as Nami laughed at him. But he didn’t remove her from his lap.

Robin gave him an amused look.

She found him in the crow’s nest late in the day, head popping up through the entrance and pulling herself up when she saw him.

“How’s Luffy?” He asked, as she walked towards him.

“Quiet, but he’ll be alright.”

The mood on board had been weird since they’d left Piriodo, everyone subdued, and it was mainly due to Luffy’s lack of cheerful energy. Everyone had pretty much kept to themselves since they set off. It’d be back to normal tomorrow, after everyone had slept it off.

She stood in front of him from where he was sat on the bench and he braced himself when he caught the look on her face. He didn’t like it.

“Am I still allowed to sit in your lap? Or was that offer only there when I was a child?” She teased, eyes dancing in amusement.

Yup. He knew it. He rolled his eye; he’d be putting up with those jabs for a while.

She took his silence and sour expression as affirmation to her first question, but instead of sitting on his lap like she had back on the train, she straddled his lap, a leg going either side.

It was a fitting example really, of the difference between her as a child and being back to her usual age. The occasional glimpses of innocence on her face as a child were long gone, along with the soft rounded features of youth that had turned him into a fool. In its place were sharper angles and cunning eyes that displayed a coquettish expression that had a very different effect on him- one that made his blood heat for her.

As adorable as she was as a child, he’d missed her. He’d missed this version. No matter how infuriating she could be.

“Happy to have me back?” She questioned, but her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

His arms settled dangerously low on her hips and his smirk was challenging as he replied, “Now I can argue with you and not feel bad.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said and laid on her best doe-eyed look. Her eyes shifted in an instant, from seductive to innocent, all glossy and defenceless, something that didn’t fit the current position they were currently in.

He’d never let her know that even as an adult, that look still had him. Perhaps in a different way now, but he’d keep it hidden through grimaces and sharp words, otherwise he’d never know peace again.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” he snorted, hands pulling her body tighter against his and the time for bickering had come to an end.

Their kiss was easy, almost leisurely, as they basked in the feeling of each other’s lips, of being back to normal. Although it wasn’t something that stayed that way for long. Gradual pecks started to linger, searching for something more as lips slid against the others and closed mouths parted as hands moved with intent, to places far from innocent.

There was no rush, they had all evening without disruptions, so that was why he pulled away to say:

“Besides, I prefer this angry, nagging version.”

What he hadn’t missed was how strong her punches were.

-------------------------------------

I mean, jokes on Zoro, he’s always been wrapped around her finger. He just put up less of a fight when she’s small.

In case I go quiet again, I’ll leave you with this- I’ve been writing something that I’m very excited about and can’t wait for you all to see, but until then, enjoy this ZoNami crumb.

As always, forgive any errors.

Thanks for reading.

#ZoNami #ZoNa #Swordgust #zoroxnami #opfanfic #opwriting #one piece #zoro #nami

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strawberryaziraphale · 3 years

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reddie + office christmas party

“Kaspbrak!”

Eddie looked up, forcing a polite smile at his boss who’d just barged his way into his office. He’d been dreading this moment all week. The invite to the office’s annual Christmas do. He’d always hated it but suffered through it for Myra who just loved the attention. Now, though, things were different. Very different. And he still didn’t want to go.

“John, I know what you’re going to say-”

“Come on, it’s just once a year,” the older man laughed, leaning against the door casually. Eddie gritted his teeth; this conversation wasn’t about to end any time soon, “you can even bring your new little lady.”

Eddie had been about to snap a firm no but now he was just confused, “little lady?”

“Don’t give me that, you can’t hide that spring in your step, that look in your eye. Everyone’s noticed you’re totally getting some,” John smirked lecherously, looking like he’d figured out the secrets of the universe. Oh, they’d assumed Richie was a woman. He’d find it funny if he wasn’t annoyed at being the subject of office gossip, “so you’ll be there.”

He must have nodded in his shock and confusion because the next thing he knew John was grinning and giving him the details of the venue the company had selected. Always some hotel somewhere, plenty of drinks flowing and all the food you could eat. He sighed. Richie was going to love this.

“My office is having a Christmas party,” was the first thing he miserably uttered as he entered the flat. Richie, sprawled on the couch surrounded by tour details as usual, barely looked up.

“Hi, honey, how was your day?”

“Great,” Eddie dropped his briefcase and loosened his tie, approaching the couch. Richie barely moved his legs in time before Eddie collapsed next to him, “oh, wait, no. Because my boss invited us to the Christmas party.”

“Sweet,” Richie closed his laptop and wriggled into a sitting position, fixing his glasses, “I’ve got this new light up reindeer sweater I wanna wear. I think the office stiffs will love it.”

Eddie didn’t know how to tell him he hated the companies gatherings. It was all formal, boring old men talking about their yachts and mistresses. He decided to change the subject, “they think I’ve got a girlfriend. Apparently you can’t hide the fact you’re ‘getting some’.”

Richie was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking about something, “well, I’m sure I can find a light up reindeer dress if you want.”

“No, it’s okay,” Eddie smiled, leaning over and hugging Richie, tucking his head onto his shoulder. Richie kissed the top of his head.

“We don’t have to go, babe,” Richie said softly, stroking Eddie’s arm up and down, “it’s cool. We’ve got nothing to prove.”

“Really?”

“‘course,” Richie scoffed, reaching for Eddie’s chin to tilt his head towards him, “I’m not so insecure as to think it’s because you’re ashamed of me or us. We’ve done all that shit. We’re better than that.”

Eddie leaned up to kiss him, ruffling his hair playfully as he did so, “I am so not ashamed of you and would parade you everywhere if I could,” and then he thought about it. It would be hilarious and wonderful to rub his happiness with Richie in the faces of the assholes he worked with. He grinned, “you know what? Fuck it. Let’s go.”

“Fuck yeah, it’ll be a laugh,” he sat up, taking Eddie with him. He kissed the tip of his nose, “I wanna meet this dick Kyle you keep on about. He can catch these gay hands.”

Eddie laughed, pulling him into a soft kiss, “I love you.”

“Babe, I want you to be real with me,” Richie said all serious in the elevator of the party venue. Eddie didn’t like it when Richie was serious, he wasn’t used to it. He bit his lip nervously, nodding for him to continue. Richie sighed, “sex jokes. On or off the table?”

Eddie breathed a sigh of relief, resisting the urge to elbow Richie right in Rudolph’s stupid red nose on his sweater. He composed himself, shaking hi s head, “I know they’re a bunch of assholes but I still have to work with them.”

“Just a little one?”

“Jesus...”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Richie said smugly, proudly taking Eddie’s hand as the elevator doors opened to their floor.

Richie was used to people staring a pointing at him, the whispering and people trying to figure out if it was actually him. Eddie, meanwhile, was still not used to being with someone famous and he fought the urge to hide behind Richie. Plus, he loved the attention and thrived; He made a show of theatrically bidding Eddie goodbye to fetch their drinks, kissing his hand like an Austen hero before sauntering off. Immediately, Eddie’s colleagues were upon him like a pack of vultures.

“Was that Richie Tozier you were with, Kaspbrak?”

“Uh, yeah...” Eddie muttered, staring off in the direction Richie had disappeared to. He could barely since thanks to the small crowd that had gathered around him, “yeah, he’s my...boyfriend.”

To his surprise, his colleagues didn’t shrink away in disgust or start calling him the names he hadn’t heard since childhood. In fact, they all looked impressed and bombarded him with questions, insisting they’d always been a fan. Vultures indeed. Thankfully, Richie was back in a flash, his light up sweater flashing proudly as he handed him his drink, slinging an arm around Eddie’s shoulder.

“You’re dating Richie Tozier?” The younger intern, Kyle, stared wide eyed, putting on the suck up a little too strong. As Eddie nodded proudly, smiling up at his man, the other man stepped forward, seizing Richie’s hand and shaking it enthusiastically, “I’m a big fan.”

“Thanks,” Richie awkwardly took his hand back, looking around at his captive audience. Real or fake, he was taking his opportunity, “but seriously, that’s shits nothing. I do my best stuff right here,” he ended his wild gesture by smacking Eddie’s ass, winking proudly at his dumb joke.

Eddie’s colleagues fell about laughing, guffawing like they’d heard the funniest joke in the world. Rolling his eyes at the pathetic display of his desperate colleagues, Eddie turned to Richie.

“That was it. I think their heads might explode if you mention anymore about our sex life.”

Richie snorted, leading Eddie away from his colleagues and towards the dance floor, “worth it.”

“That was the best Christmas party I’ve ever been to,” Eddie was laughing, his head fuzzy from the champagne Richie had been plying him with all night. He wasn’t much better off, leaning against the back wall of the elevator, trying his hardest not to puke. Thank God they’d booked a room in advance, “I thought they were gonna, like, pass out from the effort of not being homophobic.”

“They were trying so hard,” Richie giggled, gesturing wildly around the elevator, “I-I only saw a couple of twitching eyes when I mentioned how great sucking dick is.”

“The fake proposal was the best bit,” Eddie was on cloud nine. He’d remember the confused faces of his colleagues for many more Christmases to come. Richie snorted, stumbling after Eddie out of the elevator.

“What makes you so sure it was fake?”

“Because, and I mean this Richard Tozier, you,” he booped Richie’s nose, kissing it afterwards, “you are not proposing marriage to me in some sleazy hotel venue room in front of all my fake fucking homophobic colleagues.”

“Hmm,” Richie took hold of Eddie’s hand, leading him towards their hotel room. He didn’t say anything else and Eddie wondered if he’d offended. For one horrible moment, he considered it might have actually been genuine. He was about to apologise when Richie stopped them, suddenly looking a lot more sober, “what about in a lavishly decorated hotel room in front of our very best friends?”

As he spoke, Richie pushed the door open to reveal their room covered in rose petals, balloons and candles. A laptop was set up on the table, displaying all their friends on Zoom, each of them waving enthusiastically. Eddie was far too tipsy for this, he decided as he started to tear up. He was full on crying by the time Richie fell to one knee, holding out a sparkling engagement ring.

“Edward Kaspbrak, will you marry me?”

Eddie nodded, wiping away tears as he eagerly answered his new fiance, “yeah. Yes, Richie, I will marry you.”

He could faintly hear the Losers cheering in the background but he was too lost in Richie to notice. He’d thank them all properly when he wasn’t quite so busy. They separated after a long moment, resting their foreheads together. Eventually, Richie headed to the laptop and crouched in front of it.

“Alright, you lot, shows over. I don’t think my fiance wants to broadcast a live porn show.”

The last thing the Losers heard before the laptop was closed was a very embarrassed ‘Richie!’

#I've had this idea for a while but I'm not sure about it now. it sounded better in my draft #richie x eddie #reddie #eddie x richie #reddie fanfic #my writing

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aonogifreactions · 3 years

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Prompt 5: “What’s that smell… are you making cookies?” + 60. “I feel like there’s more frosting on you than on the gingerbread.” + 75. “Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays, love.”

┍━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┑

Requested: Yes, by anon.

Pairing: Yukio Okumura/Reader

Word count: 1,5k + bonus at the end 8)

SFW.

Warnings: takes place after current manga events. Read the bonus plz 8)

Beta-read by @/no-remorse. Thank you! <3

┕━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

Your ball pen scribbled on the paper angrily, causing you to hum in defeat sixth time this day. You facepalmed and looked at the mug with hot chocolate, that was now only half-full. Getting suspicious, you furrowed your brows and squinted at the mug - where was that mountain of tiny marshmallows you had put earlier? Did one of your familiars decided to prank you and - unintentionally - make your day a little bit worse than it already was?

Before you could summon them, what suddenly dawned upon you was your very own thought - that YOU did, in fact, eat all the marshmallows. Furthermore, prior to the eating, you thought it was a good idea to count them all; you don't get the chance to procrastinate very often, especially in front of your very important paper.

Swallowing the last amounts of the sweet, brown liquid in a few gulps - you decided to head downstairs to clear your mind and check on Yukio, who a few hours ago claimed to go and help Rin in the kitchen. As you were going down each step, the smell of baking pastries filled your nostrils; the smell so good that you felt was almost seductively inviting you to the hot room. Despite the internal battle to resist further distraction, you gave in.

“What’s that smell… are you making cookies?”

Upon entering the kitchen and awaiting hearing the answer, you almost collided with running Rin, who screamed as he made his way to the oven. You stared at him, rising one of your brows; you watched as he hurriedly took the baking tray out and place it on the counter nearby. Half-demon sighed, voicing his frustration out loud.

"You should go and take a break, I can watch the cookies in the meanwhile. And yes, we are," You hear Yukio say after placing the dirty mug in the sink. He was cutting out the cookies with many different cutters and seemed not to take his eyes off them, even if talking to Rin. His brother whined, not fully convinced, "I don't know, man... I'm kinda scared to leave you alone with... all that baking..." he murmured the last part, but - much to his dismay - Yukio's sharp ears picked it up, for which he got scolded anyway.

"Hey! It's just baking, I am able to turn off the oven and get the baking tray out, okay?!" Yukio slammed his fist against the table, causing one gingerbread man to fall off. You watched them in entertainment, picking the cookie up and placing it back on the parchment paper, "Alright, boys. I'll help Yukio in the kitchen, you go get a nap, Rin. You look like shit." you said honestly, playing with Yukio's brown locks lightly. Rin appeared to be fake-offended by what you said, but eventually, he agreed; his apron has been hung on a rack and he left the kitchen, heading to the shower first - after all, baking for all day long has taken a toll on him.

You shifted your attention to Yukio, who still kept quietly cutting out the cookies; you placed a soft kiss on his forehead and messed his hair up in a joking manner to annoy him. You asked him if he needs any help with his current task, but Yukio only shook his head, and politely declined. You sat next to him and started to cure your boredom by observing Yukio's face - even if it still seemed to be a little annoyed, you knew that deep down, he's happy. After all those events, his relationship with his twin brother was getting better; he's been reaching out to him more and more by himself, even if the activities were rather trivial - nonetheless, Rin appreciated that and the fact, that his brother wanted to fix their broken relationship was enough for him already.

"Can you... stop looking at me like that?" he asked embarrassed, blushing ever so slightly, "Have you finished your paper?"

"No," you started to nudge one of the cookies with your nail, only to get your hand lightly slapped away by Yukio, "I haven't. I couldn't focus, but I have most of it done already." You answered somewhat coldly, checking out your rainbow-colored nails. Yukio noticed your irritation, concluding that it was better to let you have a break, so he could later help you.

Yukio readjusted his glasses with his arm, placing the cookie cutters on the table, "Do you wanna... decorate the cookies with me?" he asked shyly, glancing at the full baking tray that Rin left on the counter earlier. You perked up, nodding your head happily, and stood up to get everything ready - you got the unbaked gingerbread cookies ready on the baking tray, then got decorating supplies ready on the table that Yukio had cleaned up with a damp cloth. You carefully arranged the cookies next to each other, then sat down and waited for Yukio, that was getting out another batch of cookies from the oven.

Your legs were dangling as you observed him getting closer and closer, your eyes not leaving his hips until he sat down with a loud "thump"; he glared at you playfully, "No shame. Not at all..." he murmured, receiving a kiss in return, "Well, we have everything. Do you wanna sta-" he stopped mid-sentence, noticing that you had already started decorating. He sighed heavily, grabbed one gingerbread cookie, and cracked a smile when he heard you giggle at his overdramatic reaction.

There was quite a variety of different flavored frosting types on the table - banana, strawberry, coconut, toffee, chocolate, and more - Rin really seemed to buy every single one. Yukio worked precisely with his frosting pen, giving a reindeer-shaped gingerbread a smiley face, as well as red, strawberry-flavored antlers and bright nose. The reindeer got "extremely long, white legs" - or what Yukio claimed to be - socks, as well as a light brown body made out of toffee-flavored frosting. As the brown-haired male proclaimed that the gingerbread is done, his hand reached for another one - this time, the cookie happened to be in the shape of a snowflake. The curiosity within got the best of him though, and even though he started to decorate it - his sight wandered onto you.

You, on the other hand - managed to somehow decorate six gingerbread men already; your face was covered with yellow frosting, as well as your lips.

Is this why the banana one vanished so quickly?

"[Y/N],"

You looked at his face innocently, blinking at him, "Yes?"

“I feel like there’s more frosting on you than on the gingerbread.”

"Wow. I just needed to see if it was eatable. Besides, I worked hard on my cookies, you know!" you declared, dropping your frosting pen and crossing your arms.

Yukio laughed softly, tapping your shoulder to make you face him.

You turned your head to gaze at his face, but before you could do that - you felt a pair of warm lips in the corner of your very own.

"I know you worked hard. And I do love every single one. I just... I'm sorry that I don't say things like that more often, and I'm sorry that I used to leave you thinking that I don't appreciate things you do... for me. For everyone. I-"

You pulled his chin and crashed your lips onto his to silence his neverending rambling.

After making sure the kiss was long enough for him to shut up, you pulled apart first, "I know, Yukio. We talked about it," you started, "I love you. I know you always wanted the best for me, hell, you still do now. I always knew you cared, even if you didn't say anything."

He leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

"Merry Christmas to you too, my babycakes."

Yukio inhaled sharply, "...This one time," the air he sucked in got exhaled through his nose, "I will agree to be your babycakes."

Bonus:

"Alright, guys! Good job with the cookies!" Rin exclaimed happily, grinning at the pile of gingerbread cookies, "And none got burned! I'm impressed!" He placed his arms on his hips, standing proudly. "Yeah, whatever. We ran out of the frosting too fast," you yawned, rubbing your eyes, "Anyway, I gotta go and finish my paper. See ya, boys." You kissed them both on the cheeks and left the kitchen, lazily getting upstairs.

Yukio was doing the dishes, as the growing pile of dirty plates and bowls seemed to frighten him.

Rin finished brooming and wiped the sweat off his face, then looked mischievously at his twin brother.

"So, babycakes, huh?"

Yukio flinched, choking on his own spit.

Yet, you still wonder what made Rin laugh so hard he passed out that day.

#Ao no Exorcist #blue exorcist #Yukio Okumura #yukio okumura x reader #christmas prompts #Pure

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fibula-rasa · 3 years

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12 Christmas Films of a Century Past

For some reason, I thought it would be a good idea to watch somewhere around 50 Christmas and Christmas-adjacent silent films from before 1920 to put together a playlist for you all. So, I hope you enjoy!

I chose these twelve as a representative selection. My general criteria were:

Christmas should be central to the story

The plot should be novel to a modern viewer or something a modern viewer would be surprised to see so early on film

The list on the whole should have a variety of settings and narrative structures

Here’s a direct link to the YouTube playlist if you want to watch them all in one go. (They are all shorter than feature length!)

Two quick presentation notes: 1. Some of the videos have music and some don’t, so you may want to check your volume level. 2. The intertitles for some of these films are not in English, so be sure you have captions turned on for English translations.

See the whole list BELOW THE JUMP!

1. Santa Claus (1898) (UK)

Directed by George Albert Smith

Short and sweet, this film sees children put to bed by their nanny on Christmas Eve and Santa Claus coming down the chimbley to fill their dutifully hung stockings. Director G.A. Smith used his own patented technique of double exposure to show Santa’s arrival without cutting away from the children’s room. Santa Claus might not pack the punch of a Méliès trick film, but it’s a fun novelty and is purportedly the first appearance of Santa Claus on film.

2. The Little Match Seller (1902) (UK)

Directed by James Williamson

This one’s quick but effective adaptation of the Hans Christian Anderson tragedy featuring impressively well-coordinated superimpositions.

3. The Christmas Angel (1904) (FR)

Directed by George Méliès for Star Film Company

The Christmas Angel follows an impoverished girl driven into the city to beg on a snowy winter night. First she’s chased away from a church by more seasoned beggars; then she’s thrown out of a poultry seller and harassed by police. On the verge of falling asleep in the snow, a rag-and-bone man rouses her and offers her help. Later, the girl passes out beside a road but is luckily spotted by a wealthy couple on a car ride. When they learn of her plight, they bring her home along with food and gifts.

Though not as fantastical as some of Méliès’ more famous works, The Christmas Angel is still highly stylized (and stylish) and features special effects that photograph beautifully. It’s also worth noting that the version of the film included here is the American cut. The original French cut, titled Détresse et Charité (Distress and Charity), did not include the sequence with the wealthy couple and instead ends with the girl dying in the snow.

4. The Night Before Christmas (1905) (US)

Directed by Edwin S. Porter for Edison Manufacturing Company

This is the first time the poem “Twas the Night Before Christmas” was put on film. Loosely following the poem, we see Santa Claus prepare for his yearly trek while a middle-class family prepares for his visit. When Santa heads out, we are treated to an extended panning sequence with a fully painted backdrop for a mini Santa and his reindeer to glide across. When Santa arrives at the family home, he chaotically dumps presents and decorations around their living room and makes a large, decorated tree appear out of thin air. (Across many of the movies I watched to put this post together, this seems to be a favored scenario for the jolly fat man around this time–and it’s delightful.) The family then wakes to find their gifts and the film closes with Santa directly wishing us a Merry Christmas.

5. A Little Girl Who Did Not Believe in Santa Claus (1907) (US)

Directed by J. Searle Dawley and Edwin S. Porter for Edison Manufacturing Company

Even at the risk of this list being too Edison heavy, I couldn’t leave this great short out. While walking with his mother, a rich little boy encounters a poor little girl alone in the cold. They take her home to play and warm up. When the boy learns that the girl doesn’t believe in Santa because apparently Santa doesn’t visit poor children, he hatches a scheme. On Christmas Eve, the boy has a stake out near the fireplace and takes Santa hostage, tying him up and holding him at gunpoint. The boy then forces Santa to visit the girl–going so far as shimmying down the chimney himself to let Santa in the front door. When the girl wakes up to a beautifully decorated tree, new toys, and a full stocking, she can finally believe in Santa Claus. While I’m generally not so into stories about supposedly benevolent rich people, I do love the implications this story has on how Santa Claus works and I also find the means with which the boy gets his way hilarious.

6. Il Natale di Cretinetti / Foolshead’s Christmas (1909) (IT)

and Come fu che l’ingordigia rovino il Natale di Cretinetti / How Greediness Spoilt Foolshead’s Christmas (1910)

and Il Natale di Cretinetti (1911)

Directed by Andre Deed for Itala Film

This entry is a three-for, which I hope you’ll excuse, but I couldn’t decide which Cretinetti Christmas to share! Cretinetti, the comedic persona of filmmaker Andre Deed, is an absolute agent of chaos.

In the 1909 film, Cretinetti attempts to bring a tree home for a Christmas party. The destruction escalates wildly, culminating in an entire building falling to pieces.

If you can believe it, the stakes are even higher in the 1910 film, when Cretinetti can’t resist sneaking out of bed on Christmas Eve to snack on the candy decorating the tree. When Santa sees what Cretinetti has done, he chides him and takes him back to his workshop, which is apparently in heaven. Destruction ensues. Cretinetti then proceeds to cause havoc for Saint Peter, annoying god so much that he calls the devil to come get Cretinetti. Cretinetti is then chased to hell where demons try to cook him alive. Thankfully, spoiler alert, it was all a bad dream and he wakes up on Christmas morning with a terrible stomach ache.

The 1911 film returns to localized chaos. Cretinetti has a run-in with a mail carrier and his Christmas packages get mixed up with one of the carrier’s parcels. The parcel contains three bottles of ether which then begin to emit gasses in the middle of the family Christmas party.

I wasn’t familiar with Cretinetti before reviewing films for this list, but I’m definitely going to seek out more of Deed’s movies. Each of these films had well-executed chaotic slapstick; over-the-top in all the right ways.

7. Making Christmas Crackers (1910) (UK)

Produced by Cricks & Martin Films for Clarke, Nickolls, & Coombs Confectionery

To start, if you’re not sure what a Christmas cracker is, it’s a colorfully decorated paper tube that makes a cracking noise as you pull it open. Inside the tube is a paper hat, a joke, and/or a small toy. It’s a traditional part of UK Christmas celebrations.

This short starts as a documentary of the workers at Clarke, Nickolls, & Coombs constructing the crackers. It’s a fun thought that as early as 1910, people were interested in watching how mass-produced consumer goods were made. It’s also fun to see these skilled workers ply their trade so deftly (even though I’m sure wages and working conditions were less than ideal). The film ends with a family celebrating around a Christmas tree topped with a functional giant cracker.

8. A Christmas Carol (1910) (US)

Directed by J. Searle Dawley for Edison Films Manufacturing Company

There are so so so many film adaptations of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol made before 1920 that it was hard to choose which one to include on this list. In the end I chose this 1910 version for its economy of storytelling, fluid use of special effects, and for Marc McDermott’s great performance as Scrooge.

9. Broncho Billy’s Christmas Dinner (1911) (US)

Directed by Gilbert M. Anderson (Broncho Billy) for The Essanay Film Manufacturing Company

Gilbert M. Anderson was an incredibly prolific and popular filmmaker and star of early American film, particularly in his role as Broncho Billy. As was typical for Anderson, he’s pulling triple duty on Broncho Billy’s Christmas Dinner as the star, director, and producer. The film features a simple and heartwarming story.

On Christmas, Billy comes across a young woman in peril as her horses got startled and are now pulling her cart along wildly. Billy manages to wrangle the horses and in gratitude she invites him to Christmas dinner at her parents’ home. Unfortunately, her father happens to be the sheriff. But, all is well, as it turns out that Broncho Billy’s been given a pardon and the sheriff welcomes him to the table gladly.

The enduring appeal of outlaws or criminals getting into the Christmas spirit is fascinating to me and it’s cool to see such an early instance of the story!

10. Le Noel de la princesse / The Little Princess’s XMas Gift (1911) (FR)

Produced by Société Générale des Cinématographes Éclipse

In all honesty, this is the least Christmassy of all the films I included here, but its style and novelty stood out. The sets, costuming, and production design are lush. It might also be one of the weirdest Christmas stories I’ve even encountered.

After Lord Othberg passes away, the conniving Otto plans to assassinate the baby prince in order to inherit the lordship himself. He poisons the baby, but the princess prays for her baby brother to come back to life as her Christmas gift. An angel appears to her and they summon Jesus, who resurrects her baby brother. Of course, they then place the revivified baby in the castle’s nativity scene, to the joy of all but Otto.

11. Ida’s Christmas (1912) (US)

Directed by Van Dyke Brooke for Vitagraph Company of America

With a more classic Christmassy story, Ida’s Christmas tells us of a family who are facing hard times. Ida (played by a very small Dolores Costello) has her eyes on a pricey doll. Meanwhile, her mother seeks out employment with a wealthy family. The matriarch of the wealthy family overhears Ida’s wish and decides to buy the doll for her as a surprise. Later, Ida is distraught to find that the doll has been purchased but comes across a wallet that someone has dropped. She considers taking the money, but chases down the owner instead. The old man gives her some reward money for returning the wallet. Ida rushes to see if she can buy the doll, but has second thoughts when she thinks about how much her family could use the money. She arrives home with the money just in time for a Santa-esque old man to show up bearing packages and an assurance that the wealthy family has work for her father. The film ends with the family celebrating an unexpectedly Merry Christmas.

It’s a sweet story that hits so many beats of what we now consider traditional Christmas tales.

12. Rozhdestvo obitateley lesa / The Insect’s Christmas (1913) (RU)

Directed by Władysław Starewicz for Khanzhonkov

Fair warning, if you thought The Princess’s XMas Gift was odd, you might need to ready yourself for this one. Stop-motion virtuoso Władysław Starewicz (Ladislas Starevich) spins a tale about a tiny ornament of Santa/Ded Moroz coming to life on Christmas and going out into the wild to bring Christmas joy to creatures small and smaller, including a frog and a ladybug. Starewicz’s animation is as impeccable as ever and the short is imaginative and quirky.

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cinnonym · 3 years

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i don't want a lot for christmas (there is just one thing i need)

Written for Day 2 - Tradition/Family of 12 Days of Supercorp @supercorpbb

Read on AO3

***

The two cups of steaming hot chocolate that Kara had somehow managed to prepare were sitting in a precarious spot on the couch table, and Lena couldn’t help her eyes being drawn to them time and time again with every grand gesture Kara made.

“Favourite Christmas decoration!” She was currently exclaiming, hands flowing up before Lena could reply. “No, wait wait, I can guess that, hold on, hold on hold on hold on – candles!”

“Accurate.” Lena smiled when Kara squealed like a little kid. For someone who claimed to be immune to earth spirits, Kara sure had a peculiar reaction to the two or three gloggs they’d had at the Christmas market. Ever since they’d come home to the loft, the Kryptonian had been oscillating between making heartfelt confessions of her love for Lena, zipping through the room at super-speed, and conducting a comical little quiz show with herself to see how well she knew her girlfriend.

“Guess mine!” Kara grinned widely, and suddenly she was hanging upside down from the ceiling, a waterfall of hair cascading down like tinsel.

Lena let out a laugh, while also moving the cups somewhat closer to the centre of the table, just in case.

“Stars?”

“Yes!” Kara pressed a sound kiss to Lena’s lips as a reward, a rule of their game that Lena found herself being rather fond of. “How did you know?”

Lena let her gaze wander over the nine or ten three-dimensional paper stars on the couch table, the cluster of folded stars stuck to the windowpanes, the literal hundreds of them pinned to every branch of the Christmas tree, and shrugged.

“Lucky guess.”

“Aww,” Kara pouted, simultaneously sliding into Lena’s lap, “It’s unfair how good you are at guessing.”

Lena hummed. “It’s because you’ve been asking the same questions all evening now.”

“Have not. Favourite – “

“Christmas song? Yours is All I Want for Christmas is You – which continues to be a terrible choice, by the way – and mine is Fairytale of New York.”

“Pff,” Kara made, followed up by a series of kisses down Lena’s neck. “And what about your favourite – “

“Reindeer? Vixen. Yours is Dasher because, I quote, ‘we’re both of us dashing, aren’t we,’ to which I – “ Lena hissed when Kara hit a particular sweet spot “ – partially agreed. What are you doing?”

“Shh.” Kara’s lips dragged across Lena’s throat to her collarbone, the faintest hint of teeth in her smile. “I’m distracting you from winning the game.”

The laugh Lena released was decidedly more breathy than before. “I’m not even playing the game.”

“You are now. Favourite pattern on wrapping paper?”

“Yours?” Lena arched into Kara’s touch. “Stars again, though you changed it to glogg mugs after your third.”

“They are very cute, I never noticed that before. Like, so teeny tiny and sort of shaped like so,” Kara raked her nails down Lena’s back in an arbitrary pattern.

Lena’s deadpan “They’re shaped like regular mugs just smaller” came out garbled in response. Kara breathed a chuckle into the hollow of her throat.

“Favourite Christmas tradition.”

Lena frowned. “Objection. You haven’t asked that before.”

“So?” Kara grinned innocently up at her, hands slipping beneath Lena’s blouse. “Answer the question or admit defeat.”

“Not fair,” Lena muttered, but her complaint was cut short by a warning squeeze of her hips. A moment later, Kara’s fingers began creeping upward.

“It’s not that hard.” Her thumb brushed over Lena’s waist, then her ribs. “It starts on C.” She licked her lips. “It’s edible.”

Lena groaned, straining against the feather light touches, but Kara moved out of reach each time she tried to lean closer.

“Guess,” she murmured, inches away from Lena’s lips, “Guess or give up.”

“I don’t know,” Lena hissed, not even caring how pathetic she sounded, “Fucking Christmas cookies maybe?”

The smile that spread on Kara’s face was bright enough to light half a dozen Christmas trees, and the next moment her body was flush against Lena’s, and Lena’s was flush against the mattress, and Lena barely had time to damn that super-speed before her brain disconnected.

***

“What’s yours?” Kara asked afterwards, drawing lazy circles on Lena’s bare back.

“My what?”

Kara grinned at the sleepy contentment in her voice. “Your favourite Christmas tradition, of course.”

“Oh.” Lena thought about that. “Opening the Christmas cupboard probably.”

“What is that?”

Kara’d sat up, her blue eyes already clear again. Her glogg haze seemed to have vanished and her alien stamina kicked in. Lena barely suppressed a yawn.

“It’s an Irish thing, I guess,” she said slowly. “I remember my mam doing it, and I took it up again now that I’m living alone.” She smiled. “Actually, I think you will like this. It’s a cupboard filled with sweets and chocolate and really expensive liquors, and it’s locked throughout the year, but in December, for special occasions, you may open it and share the treats with guests and family.”

“Wait,” Kara held up her hand, “Pause, pause. Are you telling me you have a whole closet full of sweets, and you only eat them in December?”

“It’s a mortal sin to open the Christmas cupboard during the year, unless it’s to restock.”

Kara gaped. “But you have the key, don’t you. How do you resist the temptation?”

“It’s a family honour to carry the key,” Lena said, appalled. “I take my duties very seriously.”

“Of course,” Kara murmured, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks. “Sorry.” Then she brightened. “Wait, you can only open the Christmas cupboard when guests are over, right?”

Lena nodded, “Yeah.”

“Does one person constitute as guests?”

“Depends, I suppose, on the person.” Lena scratched her nose. “I don’t know the specifics either, since I only experienced it when I was really young, but I think if it’s an important person then yes, that should count.”

A sly smile spread on Kara’s face. “An important person… Like a local superhero maybe?”

Lena threw her head back in a sudden bout of laughter. “Are you thinking of someone in particular?”

“Well, I am close friends with Supergirl after all…”

“Right,” Lena said wryly, not quite able to keep the smile from her face. “Well, if Supergirl were inclined to be my dinner guest some day, I am sure something could be arranged with the Christmas cupboard.”

“Yes!” Kara high-fived Lena’s hand that lay loosely on her stomach, then pressed a kiss to her fingers.

“Who knows,” she said, “maybe I’ll have to change my favourite tradition too.”

#supercorp #christmas #sc fanfic #sc #supercorp fanfiction #supergirl #tradition #christmas fic #my writing #mini fic

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mc-lukanette · 3 years

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Elf Preservation (continuation)

(original/first chapter)

[AO3] [FF.NET]

Luka was surprised when he was not only allowed to deliver presents again, but that there was no sort of punishment for the fact that he'd both been found by and interacted with a human. Apparently, Santa just hadn't told anyone, and was even the person to suggest that Luka go with him again next year for Christmas.

He didn't really get it, but didn't complain either. Most people rolled with whatever Santa said without question, and Luka supposed that he somehow managed to be a good enough assistant.

Besides, he had a promise to keep, and it kept ringing in his head since the take-off to go around the world: "If I can make it happen, it’ll happen."

He told Marinette that they'd meet again as long as it was in his power to do so. No matter what her reason was for wanting to see him again - whether genuine interest or mild curiosity - he wanted to see her too. He couldn't explain it, but she was special, and there was an allure to her that had him looking over the side of the sleigh to try and spot her house when they arrived in her city.

He considered what he might do if Santa refused to let him go into the house. Plead? Beg? Explain the promise? Offer not to tell anyone that he secretly feeds cookies to his reindeer if he lets him see Marinette?

As they landed on the familiar house, Luka's mind was still racing with options when he suddenly heard Santa ask, "Why don't you take this one again?"

Luka blinked, needing a moment to register that, then turned with a confused look on his face. "What?"

Santa didn't reply at first, though clearly noticed that Luka had a thousand questions playing in his head that he was resisting asking. Smiling at him, he finally answered, "Let's just say that I owe Marinette a favor and leave it at that, hm?"

Luka wasn't sure how to take that, but knew that Santa wouldn't lie to him. He was also reminded of what Marinette had implied when they first met, referring to how she was "used to magic." He was getting more and more interested in her by the second, hoping that it didn't look too apparent by how quickly he hopped off the sleigh.

"Thank you." It was really all he could say, not wanting to pry when he'd been told not to. Santa merely gave him a nod in return, leaning back to take a breather and relax.

Luka walked to the back of the sleigh, then opened his arms for the sack of presents to jump at him. Once it did and he had it slung securely over his shoulder, he navigated himself off the roof and through the window of the house.

He noticed immediately that Marinette had decorated the room differently the year before. The furniture had been moved and the tree had been put in a different spot. She'd even changed the color of the lights, though it didn't make things feel any less warm because of it.

He paused to take in the view, then headed for the tree to put the presents underneath, not wanting a repeat of last year where he'd delayed getting everything set up and got a non-verbal scolding from a sack of all things.

Taking out the gifts one by one, he began sliding them under the tree and making them look nice resting there. He hummed last year's melody while he worked, more for the happy memories it brought than any sort of need to fill the silence. Given that the Christmas tree's lights were on, he wasn't concerned that Marinette wouldn't be home.

Sure enough, he heard footsteps not too long after, and he may've hurried a little to finish setting all the presents under the tree. He checked them over once more, then stood and turned to greet, "Hey, Marinette."

"Hey!" She smiled, having just walked into the room. She approached with a wave, eyes unfairly bright and happy. "You really came back!" Then, dread washing over her face, she asked, "It wasn't hard, was it? Did you get in trouble?"

He smiled back, his heart warmed by her concern. He also noted idly that she was more dressed up than before, though it made sense given that she knew he might show up, so she sported casual wear instead of pajamas.

Answering her questions accordingly, he replied, "No and no. It was actually easy; Santa let me come back here."

"Wait—" She blinked a few times, processing that. "He let you? Do you mean—"

"He figured it out." Luka shrugged, then grinned sheepishly and turned his head to the side, reminding her of the earrings she'd given him.

Marinette gasped, then pounded her forehead lightly with the heel of her hand, whining, "Oh, Luka, I'm so sorry! I didn't even think about that!"

"I didn't either," he pointed out gently, amused when she sunk down to the floor in misery. It was probably the one time he'd feel taller than her. "But it's okay. He didn't tell anyone and he was the one who suggested that I come back."

She peeked up at him, surprised and wordlessly questioning the decision.

He rubbed the back of his head, simply explaining, "He said he owed you a favor?"

Her eyes lit up with recognition at that. She looked away, tugging at one of her earlobes, and he noticed that she still didn't have any earrings on. He'd originally presumed that she hadn't been wearing any last year due to being in pajamas, but now he could be sure that she either didn't have any or chose not to wear them.

"That—that makes sense," she replied. "I never said he had to pay me back, but—well—I'm glad you're here!"

He nodded in agreement. "I'm glad I am too."

She beamed, then pushed herself up and glanced back at the kitchen. "So, do you want any cookies again? I could do a different kind if you're afraid of it being boring."

"You don't have to make me anything," he gently insisted. "I didn't come back for that."

"I know." Though she said that, her smile widened significantly. "Still, it's a long sleigh ride, isn't it? And it must be hard bringing enough food for one person, much less two, and you need food. I don't want you to starve or even just be hungry, so I want to make you something—ah... well, I guess sweets actually wouldn't be that filling, but—"

He giggled. "Elves actually aren't that crazy about sweets anyway."

Her head snapped up, eyes wide like he'd just said something insane. "What? Really?"

"We don't mind eating sweets every now and then, but almost all the sweets are for Santa." He grinned playfully. "I guess it just became a note we play every time we cook that says we'd have to share with him if it's something sweet."

"Oh." She looked positively fascinated. Had he known that she'd get so enthused over a simple fact about his species, he would've spoken up about it last year. "So, how about something savory then? It doesn't have to be anything big, but..." She looked around, her eyes eventually settling on the TV. She brightened up, asking, "How about a movie?"

"A movie?" He promptly realized how dumb echoing her sounded. "That sounds great. I'd love to."

"Yes!" she exclaimed excitedly. "We could do sandwiches and popcorn! Oo, what would you like best?"

Her positivity was contagious. He couldn't stop himself from smiling as he followed her out into the kitchen, though he nearly bumped into her when she abruptly stopped to turn to him.

"Wait," she muttered, "so—those cookies I made for you last year..."

"Like I said, we do have sweets every now and then," he reminded her, "but I guess I didn't have them that much until a while ago."

She tilted her head, then turned to continue her walk around the kitchen. "What changed your mind?"

He watched as she pulled out a loaf of pre-sliced bread, which he thought was strange - considering that her parents were bakers - until he remembered her 'Safety Hazard' apron. He had to debate whether he really wanted to answer her question, but smiled when he acknowledged mentally that she deserved to hear it.

"...It was when you baked me some, Marinette."

The way her face heated up was both satisfying and left him feeling abnormally happy.

"W-wh—" She cleared her throat, fussing far too much with opening the clear bag covering the bread. "—t-then, was marshmallow even a flavor you thought you'd like?"

"Honestly," he began, reaching a hand up to ruffle his own hair, "it was just the first thing I thought of while I was looking at you... after you asked."

She turned away to stop looking at him, but he didn't have to see her face to know how she felt. Being as quiet as he was, it was rare for him to have such an effect on people.

It was nice, having someone who genuinely enjoyed his company and reacted in such a way when he spoke up.

As Marinette pulled out various ingredients for sandwiches, Luka removed his gloves and joined in to help her. He may've been shorter than her, but he was still tall enough to handle anything on the counter. It was also the least he could do since she was already letting him hang around her house.

If their arms brushed every now and then, they didn't make any mention of it, though he would've caught her blushing again had he looked up.

Given the sliced bread, it only made sense that she opted for bagged popcorn rather than making her own, though he didn't mind and wouldn't have wanted her to go so far out of the way anyway. They conversed on the way back to the couch upon the realization that they hadn't agreed on what to watch, and what started as a joking suggestion from Marinette to watch a movie featuring "his people" became very real very fast when Luka saw her scroll past a few strange-looking characters on the TV screen that clearly were supposed to be elves.

They started with just one, but it soon became a whole marathon, the two going through movie after movie while Luka was critiquing the whole way through about the things they'd gotten wrong. At first, it was just an easy way of telling Marinette more about elves, but as Marinette began to giggle at his more biting critiques, he took to being more dramatic about it. He'd gasp in offense when the movies "insulted" his elf kind, clutch his chest, and pretended to walk out at least once.

Marinette's laughter was easily his favorite part of the whole thing. It was warm and bubbly, and she'd even start giving off critiques of her own if she remembered something he'd said before about elves. By the time the last movie had hit, they were both at the movie's non-existent throat, and it was easily the most fun he'd had all year.

It made it all the more sad when Marinette went to look for another movie and noticed that their time was running low; they didn't have to part yet, but they definitely didn't have time for another movie.

Luka sat back, looking down at the empty box of popcorn and the empty plates that once contained their sandwiches. Glancing up, he said gratefully, "Thanks, Marinette."

She tilted her head at him. "For what?"

He shrugged. "Everything? Being you?" He stared back at the now-blank TV screen. "I'm just glad you're letting me be here and hang out with you."

"Why wouldn't I? We're friends, aren't we?" she asked, though began to blush after a few seconds. "I-I mean, unless that we just me assuming things, in which case—"

"No, we're definitely friends," he insisted, "as long as you want that too."

"Of course!" she replied immediately, the offended tone making him chuckle and reminding him of their Christmas movie roasts. "You're really nice, and funny, and you're so—I don't know—different? From everyone else I've met? Not in a bad way, obviously, just..."

She trailed off, and he imagined that his expression assured her that she didn't need to ramble. His words followed suit, "I feel the same way about you."

Her smile was soft, her eyes almost sparkling at him. They remained there for a moment, just enjoying each other's company and the warm Christmas lighting around them.

Then, Marinette's gaze drifted down over him, then just barely above his face. "...Hey, Luka?"

He went to ask her what was on her mind, but stilled as her hand seemed to - almost unconsciously - reach upwards to hold a strand of his hair. "Marinette?"

Her expression was a mixture of thoughtful and curious. "Do you mind if we do something before you go? It might be a little boring for you."

"I don't mind. What is it?"

"Well..." She smiled hopefully at him. "I'd like to take your measurements."

~ ∘˚˳°✧°˳˚∘ ~

The third year Luka showed up at Marinette's house, she was already waiting for him in the living room, sitting on a chair a few meters away from the tree. His brows rose in surprise, but she just gave him a smile, waving her hand vaguely at the sack over his shoulder as if to say, don't worry, I'll wait.

He returned the smile, a small skip in his step as he made his way to the tree. He noted that she'd clearly been waiting for him for a while, a quarter-full mug of hot chocolate in her hands that definitely wasn't emitting any more steam. The delightful fuzziness in his chest he got every Christmas wasn't due to the holiday itself, and he was very much aware of it.

Kneeling down, he reached into the sack of presents, pulling out the first gift his fingers touched. He was suddenly conscious of his abilities to set down the gifts - considering Marinette was watching - but he knew she wouldn't judge him if it wasn’t perfect.

As he went to place the first gift down, he stilled, seeing that there was already a singular gift under the tree. He briefly wondered if maybe the sack had been messing with him and spit out one of the gifts itself, but then he noticed the sticker.

To Luka, From Marinette

He paused, rereading the words twice before turning to Marinette. She was glancing away, smiling innocently, but he could see the way she tried to hold herself together even with her legs very subtly vibrating in excitement. He turned back to the gift, then debated with himself before setting it off to the side, trying to get Marinette's presents under the tree first.

He'd never be able to focus otherwise. Their conversations from last year were already replaying in his head as he wondered what she could've gotten him, or...

"I'd like to take your measurements."

what she could've made him?

Once he'd finished placing all of her presents in a nice-looking order, he picked up his gift, hesitating at how beautifully Marinette had wrapped it. He tore quickly but carefully - not wanting the clean-up to cause any problems - then opened the box that was inside.

Before he could even ask, her voice confirmed, "I made them for you," and his heart skipped a beat.

Clothes. She'd really designed and made him an entire outfit. The color was different than he was used to wearing - elves usually wore specific colors depending on where they were working - but that didn't make it bad; in fact, he loved her choices. He probably spent a good minute just looking and feeling at the fabric, moving everything around to see every bit of them while trying not to disturb Marinette's expert folding.

"You really like them?"

He looked up at her. It was obvious that she already knew his answer - her smile was far too wide for her to think anything else - but wanted to hear him say it anyway. Knowing that it'd be answer enough for her, he asked eagerly in reply, "Can I try them on?"

She beamed, immediately directing him to the nearest room that he could use to change. He knew from the past times he'd been there that she had a full-body mirror in her bedroom, so he avoided getting too lost in admiring the clothes as he put them on so he could be properly surprised in front of her.

After he was fully dressed, he set his other clothes off to the side and left to join Marinette outside the room. She nearly squealed at the sight of him, then hurried for her bedroom, apparently having the same idea that he did with how she encouraged him to follow. They went into her room together, the full-body mirror blatantly moved so that he could see himself as soon as possible. He approached it, Marinette looking him over while tilting the mirror appropriately.

He had no idea how she'd done it. The clothes were comfortable, both in warmth and in how they fit him, and the combination of blue, white, and black was something that felt strangely right. He knew nothing about fashion, but he knew he looked good and that any person would find it hard to come up with any critique on it.

"This—Marinette, I don't know what to say." He shook his head, realizing that wasn't entirely correct. "I mean, it's amazing, I love it, but I haven't done anything. I wouldn't even know how to accept this."

She giggled, walking over to stand next to him and smile at his reflection. "Wearing it is already a good start."

He nearly pouted at her - he knew that she knew that wasn't what he meant - but settled for smiling back and turned back to the image reflected in the mirror of them standing next to each other. He was already used to the height difference, though now he could actually see himself standing next to her using the mirror. He wasn't dense enough to ignore the slight pang in his chest that he wasn't taller than her like what one might expect from what was "conventional," but...

he also noted that both of them looked really happy despite it, and it made him feel weirdly lucky.

As he cherished the thought, his mind registered a familiar shape off to the side of the mirror. He glanced over, eyes widening at the actual guitar resting against the wall.

Marinette looked at the mirror, noticing his shifted gaze, then followed it to the guitar. "...Oh." She laughed, wandering over and kneeling to point at the signature along the base. "Jagged Stone gave that to me. Apparently it's the something-something anniversary of me working for him - I'm pretty sure he made it up as an excuse - and he insisted that I have it. I told him over and over that I had no idea how to play it, but—" She gestured to the guitar for emphasis, as if it were showcasing Jagged's complete refusal to back down.

Luka could only nod, feeling somewhat embarrassed that he couldn't provide any commentary on the matter. He shifted in place as he stared at the guitar, trying not to be obvious about admiring the intricate design and professional quality of the build.

"Do you play guitar, Luka?" Marinette suddenly questioned.

Okay, maybe he wasn't as subtle as he thought. "Hm?"

"The first Christmas we met," she began, "you said that you didn't have any instruments with you when I asked you to play your tune for me, so I thought that meant that you played a few but just didn't have them on you?"

He was surprised she remembered something so insignificant, but answered anyway, "Yeah, I only make instruments I know how to play." He added with a smile, "Guitar's my specialty though."

"Would you like to play this one then?" she asked with a big grin, clearly trying to suppress any excitement and failing spectacularly.

"Really?" He approached, tilting his head at the fancy guitar. "Would that be okay?"

"Oh, absolutely!" She took care in picking the instrument up - despite her haste - then offered it to him. "Jagged would be so sad if this just sat here and collected dust!" She paused, considering, then corrected, "Plus, even if he didn't, it's mine now since he gave it to me and I'm saying that you can play it."

He chuckled, reaching out to take and settle the guitar into his arms. "Hard to argue with that."

She moved around him to sit on her chaise lounge, staring at him expectantly. It was cute, and he followed suit by sitting down next to her, only turning enough attention to the guitar to make sure it was tuned.

He was confident enough in his abilities that he didn't feel nervous playing in front of her. Music was his element, and she already seemed to like his style when he was simply humming, which was more than enough reason not to worry. Even just having a guitar in his hands brought a certain sense of familiarity and comfort, though it wasn't the same kind of feeling he got with Marinette.

As he tested the strings once more to confirm the sound was correct, he caught sight of the signature again and admitted quietly, "I... actually don't know who Jagged Stone is."

He didn't know why he said it; Marinette had spoken the name so casually as if he should be expected to know it. There was just something about her that made him want to tell her whatever came to mind.

"Wh—really?" she asked. Catching herself, she held her hands up and insisted, "N-not that there's anything wrong with that! I'm just—"

"Surprised," he supplied. "It's alright. Santa makes sure we have stuff to do in our spare time but it's from all over. We all speak English since that's the original Claus language, but we get to learn two or three more depending on where we are in the workshop." He figured it went without saying that one of his was French. Stroking along the guitar, he played a quick melody and added, "Anyway, we only get a few notes from everywhere, and we don't always have time to listen to the whole song. We're kept really busy and—" He hesitated, debating on if it sounded like he was complaining. Deciding he didn’t want to stop short and leave her wondering, he continued, "—there are a lot of elves. It's why I'm glad I don't make things like toys."

"It's a lot to deal with?" she guessed.

"Yeah."

It felt strange to say it out loud; he'd never done so before. It was easy to forget such thoughts when he was with Marinette because he was so far away from the workshop, but that was only for a day (excluding all the timewarping). Even while riding with Santa in the sleigh, he was still reminded that it wasn't forever and he'd eventually have to return.

He didn't hate working there, but getting to make and test out instruments was the only part he liked. There was no such thing as "peace and quiet" when it was Santa's workshop, and almost all the elves were lively and social with each other, chatting while they worked to keep themselves energized. Luka was glad for them, but it meant constantly hearing a bunch of songs that didn't go together. When everyone tried to be close with everyone else, no one was truly close, and Luka preferred a smaller, tighter group of friends; not that he had any as an example though.

His family had always been different, he supposed, but he was just the right amount of different for it to be inconvenient. His mother actually enjoyed all the chaos, always moving and having more energy than probably any other elf in the whole workshop. Juleka, his sister, while not actively engaging with the other elves, enjoyed that she was never the center of attention and could be quiet without anyone caring, as they believed her to be invested in her work and respected that.

He didn't have such luck, and meditating was the only way to gain any sort of temporary silence; the book that taught him how to do it had been in a different language, but it had pictures and he'd figured out the rest eventually. It was just the life of an elf, and he imagined that he'd used to it eventually.

Maybe.

"...Anyway," he said suddenly, flashing Marinette a hopefully-reassuring look. Getting his hands in place to place to play, he added, "Any requests? I don't know that many songs, but if you can play one for me first, I can—"

His voice choked off with a gasp as Marinette threw her arms around him, his body going stiff in surprise. His left hand's grip on the guitar slipped, causing the neck to drop awkwardly against his chelidon. He didn't even notice, too focused on the warmth and gesture that'd caught him entirely off guard.

"M-marinette?"

"Sorry," she whispered. "You... you looked so sad."

Had he? It'd shown on his face? "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Don't apologize." She squeezed him in reassurance. "I—I'd just never thought of it like that."

"Like what?"

He heard her breathe like she was about to speak, but then she hesitated. "...Promise not to laugh?"

"I—"

"No, I know you wouldn't. I'm sorry."

She sighed, but her voice was lighter when she spoke again. "...I actually wished I could be an elf when I was younger. Getting gifts on Christmas always made me so happy, and I wanted to be able to give that same happiness to all the other kids my age." She hugged him tighter, the lightness fading into sorrow. "I never thought about how elves must live, trapped on the North Pole with so much of the world being a mystery to them, being non-existent to people who don't believe in them. Santa and Mrs. Claus could go out if they wanted by traveling, but it's not that easy for someone like you, working with other elves because you have to and not being able to leave even if you want to."

Luka couldn't bring himself to react, barely managing to do so much as breathe. He'd never had someone so easily able to feel out his worries like that, and she'd voiced things that he'd always thought about but never said.

Despite being surrounded by people, he was lonely. He didn't want the company of dozens of others that he could barely put care to remember the names of; he wanted a connection.

He wanted Marinette.

That thought in particular struck him harder than anything else had that day, though he knew he'd prodded at the idea in his head for a long time. Even beyond filling a void, he'd fallen hard for her and couldn't deny it even with all of the obvious problems it presented.

He also wished the atmosphere hadn't been so sad so he would've been able to properly enjoy the concept of her actually being an elf and growing up with him, but that wasn't as important at the moment.

Realizing he'd been quiet too long, he managed to get a grip on himself, shifting and finally letting the headstock of the guitar fall onto the chaise lounge so he could turn more easily towards Marinette. He had too many words in his head for her, but managed to settle on a quiet, "Thank you. I'm sorry I brought the mood down."

She stiffened, then pulled away and put her hands on his shoulders. "You don't have to apologize for that; you can't help how you live or what you think about it. Besides, I want you to feel like you can rely on me whether you need it or not."

He smiled fondly at her, hoping his look wasn't too intense. "I definitely feel like that now."

She smiled back. "I'm glad." Her hands lingered on his shoulders until she seemingly noticed that they were still there. She pulled away, blushing in embarrassment and adding hurriedly, "A-and sorry for hugging you out of the blue like that."

He giggled. That was the third time she apologized in the past five minutes, and the second time she'd apologized specifically for hugging him.

"I don't mind at all," he assured. Still riding the emotional high from her hug, he insisted, "You can hug me whenever you want."

She blinked rapidly, raising a hand to her mouth in thought. "R-really?"

He nodded. "Really."

She looked him up and down, as if to check that he really meant it. Just to make sure she understood, he turned further towards her, though it was slightly awkward with the guitar on his lap.

He wasn't expecting her to hug him right away, but his body reacted even while his mind froze. He finally set the guitar aside, leaving him free to turn towards Marinette completely and hug her back. They took a few seconds to fully adjust, but it was total and complete comfort the whole way through. Part of him almost thought it was for the best that he wasn't with her for the whole year; he'd never get anything done otherwise.

Then, Marinette suddenly gasped, breaking the hug with an, "Ah, I know!"

Luka watched as she got off the chaise lounge and hurried over to her table, a small set of drawers resting on it. She searched it from top to bottom, then checked the middle drawer again and brightened, seeming to find whatever she was looking for. She also picked up a sanitary wipe and scrubbed at something that was attached to it, though she was turned too far away for him to see clearly. When she finally did walk back to him, he could only see a hint of white peeking out from her closed fingers and that the object seemed to be rectangular.

"Here," she said, holding it out and opening her fingers for him to see. "It's an MP3 player. I know it won't block out everything, but it's full of songs, and there are a lot of Jagged Stone ones in here already."

He was familiar enough with the concept of an MP3 player; it wasn't where he worked, but there were more tech-savvy elves who made them. He just couldn't believe that she—

"Oh, and don't worry!" she told him with a wave of her free hand. "I was planning on getting a new one anyway, so you'd be doing me a favor! Besides, I figured you probably couldn't take those clothes, but an MP3 player is more subtle, so you'll still have something of mine to keep with you!"

He simply sat there, staring at her and probably looking silly doing so.

She seemed to realize something, pulling back and hiding the device in her hand again. "U-um, gosh, that makes me sound really selfish, doesn't it? Like I'm only doing it so you'll remember me more, or like I'm only giving it to you because it's used? I swear I'm not, it's just—"

He stood up, walking over and placing his hands over hers. "Only you would worry about sounding 'selfish' when you're giving me a gift." He laughed, positive that it was too warm not to be noticeable. "I'll take it. I'll carry it with me wherever I go."

She beamed, though acknowledged a moment later, "Oops, that's right! You'll need both chargers; one for the MP3 player and one for the wireless earbuds. Um, give me a moment." She hesitantly pulled back from his grip on her hands, then gestured at the guitar as she assured, "I swear I still want to hear you play if you don't mind—um—setting up again?"

He smiled to assure her that he didn't, already walking back to the chaise lounge to sit down and get the guitar back in his lap. He could only hope that his playing didn't come out too much like a love song, or at least that Marinette wouldn't notice if it did.

She was too much; sweet, thoughtful, and extremely adorable. He loathed the very concept of time itself, wishing he could stay in the moment with her forever. He didn't care whether she returned his feelings or not; they were both smiling and happy, and he wanted it to stay that way. She'd done so much for him, giving him gift after gift, and he—

Luka paused, no longer paying as much attention as Marinette pulled out a small drawstring bag and began slipping the objects inside. He realized just how much she'd done for him, or more specifically, how much he hadn't done for her. He didn't doubt that she enjoyed having him around - they wouldn't be here if she didn't - but...

“They’re Santa’s gifts for you, not mine.”

His brows furrowed with concern at the memory. Marinette had given him multiple gifts and he hadn't done anything in return. They were supposed to be friends, yet he'd missed two of her birthdays without making up for it, never even giving her a Christmas present that wasn't from someone else. Playing her music was a start - he'd already hummed her a melody the first time they met too - but it wasn't enough and couldn't make up for what she'd already given him.

Already musing over the matter, he decided that he'd definitely get her something next time. He didn't know what, but it'd be something meaningful and full of thought.

She deserved that and so much more, but he'd settle on the gift for now.

~ ∘˚˳°✧°˳˚∘ ~

For their fourth time meeting up, Marinette greeted Luka with a full-on hug that he eagerly returned. Despite the chill from the window behind him, it was too warm in her arms to care; she was even wearing extra layers than usual.

When he pulled away, he noticed a smile on her face that he immediately recognized. Grinning, he noted, "You look like you have an idea."

She somehow smiled even wider, replying, "I left your clothes where you changed last time. Get changed and meet me in my room?"

Her voice shook slightly at the last sentence, a mixture of anticipation and nerves. Whatever she was planning, he figured it must be different actually telling him about it, regardless of how eager she was in planning it.

He smiled back, hoping it was enough to assure her that it'd be okay no matter what. "I'll see you there."

She hurried to her bedroom after that, Luka having to force himself not to rush putting her gifts under the tree. Her excitement was too contagious and he didn't want his work to come out sloppy because of it. Still, he ran to change the second he was done, cherishing the feeling of the clothes made by Marinette's hand for him and him alone.

Needless to say, he missed it over the entire year, though didn't miss how the outfit was noticeably warmer than he'd remembered, as if it'd been just taken out of a dryer before he got there.

Once he'd tucked away the little gift box he'd brought into the deep pocket of his outfit, he left the room to meet Marinette in hers. He saw her sitting on her chaise lounge, some type of clothing held tightly in her hands as she practically bounced in place.

She stood up as they made eye contact. "Hey," she greeted.

He was very curious now. "Hey."

She walked over to stand across from the mirror, holding up the fabric while looking at him expectantly. He approached, getting in front of her and watching her reflection to see what she was doing. The fabric in her hands matched colors with his outfit, and his only guess as to what that meant was confirmed as she slipped it onto his head; it was yet another gift for him.

Regardless, she had to be excited over something specific about it, so he let her put it on him without a word. He noted that it was a beanie, loose but comfortable, Marinette leaning to his side and hunching over to get a closer look at it, struggling a bit at first due to wearing gloves.

Though he was briefly distracted by the way her tongue stuck out in her focus, he felt and saw the fabric slipping partially over his ears. "Marinette?"

"That's not uncomfortable, is it?" she asked, voice filled with hope.

He shook his head, then turned his head to the side so he could see the effect through the mirror; the pointed part of his ears was completely covered, making him look as if he were just a short human.

"You can go out with me now," she said softly.

Luka whipped his head back to look at her, eyes wide. She blushed in realization, then flailed her arms in reassurance.

"Outside! You can go outside with me!" she corrected. "See, it was just—um—"

She took a moment to breathe and he let her, his heart still pounding too hard from what he'd thought she'd meant.

Now calmed, she explained, "I... I couldn't stop thinking about what happened last time we talked. I know I can't magically fix everything—" There was a brief shift in her expression that made him feel like there was something deeper to what she'd said. "—but I wanted to give you the chance."

"The chance?" he echoed questioningly.

"Yeah." She smiled sheepishly. "To get out; to be somewhere that's not here or the North Pole. It's late, the entirety of Paris is basically asleep, and even if someone saw you, the elf part of your ears are covered. You don't have to if you'd rather just stay inside, but... I thought that—maybe—just knowing you had the option is nice."

She was making it impossible for him not to fall harder for her, and he really liked it. He couldn't imagine what luck he must have, or maybe it was all of his bad luck finally leaving him instead. He didn't really care; he was happy and she looked happy to be there with him.

"That sounds incredible," he admitted. "Could you lead me around? Can we go right now?"

"Yes!" She paused, then added quickly, "Um—to both of those."

He chuckled, but realized belatedly, "Oh, I should probably ask Santa—"

"No!" she protested. She pouted, insisting, "You want this, don't you? Consider it your Christmas present."

"Elves don't get Christmas presents. We get birthday presents, but—"

"Details." She waved dismissively. "Anyway, if Santa wants to go on about owing me a favor, then fine, this is part of the favor."

Brimming with twice as much confidence as before, likely since he'd answered positively to going with her, she strolled up, pulling a set of gloves out of her pocket and handing them to him. He was smiling too much at her energy to argue, slipping on the gloves and wondering if she'd made them for him as well.

Scratch that, he was sure she had.

The moment he had both hands gloved and they were ready to go, she took one of his hands in hers, gently tugging him along to lead him to the front door. He happily let her lead him, feeling almost childish for how excited he was at the prospect of just going outside, but...

It was Marinette. He knew she wouldn't judge, so he let himself smile.

They didn't let go of each other's hands even after they were out the door.

—————

It took Luka a full minute or so to fully take in the sights while they walked. He'd only ever seen Paris and its Christmas scenery from up in the sleigh or from a rooftop, and while both views were nice, it was something completely different to be actually down on the ground, seeing it from the point of a normal person. All the Christmas lights were on, contrasting the dark sky, and decorations were hung just about everywhere they could be placed. Mrs. Claus changed decorations at the North Pole every month, but it was different seeing a whole city decorated.

He didn't realize how long he was staring at everything until he saw Marinette staring fondly at him in his peripheral vision. She seemed embarrassed to be caught, blushing and turning her head away from him.

"I-it's a nice night," she commented weakly.

He chuckled at the attempt of distracting him. "Yeah." He glanced down their hands, still linked together. "It is."

Looking at anything except him, the blush still on her cheeks, she observed thoughtfully, "There really aren't any people around tonight." She dared a glance at him, a slight smirk on her face. "Maybe you don't need that beanie after all?"

She pretended to reach for it with her free hand. Luka ducked out of the way in dramatic fashion, placing his free hand protectively on the beanie to keep it on his head. She laughed, dazzling him once again with the sound.

He continued walking with her, feeling the beanie a moment longer to make sure he hadn't accidentally shifted it, then followed up on what she'd said. "You were right about Paris being asleep. It's like the whole city is, except for you." He raised a brow at her, curious but also teasing, "Are you nocturnal, Marinette?"

She pursed her lips in thought, eyes drifting up to look at the night sky. The former shyness she showed slowly turned into a bout of playfulness. "Not really. At least—I didn't use to be. I wasn't a morning person, but I wasn't a night owl either; the only time I stayed up late before was by accident, like if I got lost working on something or got really inspired."

He tilted his head at her, now even more curious. "What changed?"

A soft hum sounded at the question, Marinette raising her free hand to rub her chin in a gesture that was clearly her pretending to think. He squinted, half-suspicious, then leaned forward so she was in his peripheral view.

She peeked down at him, then turned her head fully towards him, answering, "...It was when you visited me for the first time."

He straightened in surprise, his hand accidentally slipping from hers as he earned another laugh out of her. The words not only struck him, but felt weirdly familiar in a way that took him a few seconds to realize: she was echoing his words from when he'd told her that he didn't have many sweets until he had her cookies.

He wasn't sure what his face looked like - though it felt plenty warm at the thought that they'd done similar things while he was crushing on her - but she must've enjoyed it with the way her smile widened.

"You're blushing," she teased, as if she had a right to do so despite earlier.

"So what?" he challenged shamelessly, not bothering to deny it.

She nudged his arm with hers, her hand slipping back into his slowly enough so that he could pull away if he wanted to. He wasn't so daring as to consider it romantic on her part, but knowing that she was that comfortable around him was heartwarming enough for him.

"You're so refreshing, you know?" she asked, leaning over slightly to meet his gaze better. They were about to cross the street when she looked off to the side and gently pulled him to a stop, pointing down the sidewalk. "Hey, can we go this way instead?"

He glanced down the way, half-suspecting that she had some sort of plan. "Sure, I trust you." He waited until they'd turned and headed down the path she'd suggested to continue their conversation. "So... refreshing, huh? No, I didn't know."

"Because you're different from the other elves so they've never said anything?" She stretched the words out dryly. "Classic case of jealousy."

"You're spoiling me, Marinette," he accused fondly.

"Good. Feel spoiled." She squeezed his hand for emphasis. "It's your Christmas present."

He dug his free hand into his pocket at the mention of Christmas presents, pressing the gloved tips of his fingers and thumb into the corners of the box inside. "And the gloves and beanie weren't?"

"Your second Christmas present then," she corrected. "I count clothes as one full gift." Leaning over, she added with a hint of concern, "By the way, the MP3 player I gave you still works and everything, right?"

"Yeah, it's great," he answered immediately, jumping at the chance to compliment her back. "You have amazing taste."

"I know~"

He had to convince himself that he was just imagining that she gave him a once over when she said that.

They walked a little longer, Marinette's gaze occasionally flicking up to the buildings they were passing. He kept feeling tempted to look, but forced himself not to in case it would ruin whatever she was thinking about.

When she glanced up once last time, she brightened and finally came to a stop, tilting her head at the building behind him. "Have you ever seen a music shop before?"

"Hm?" He caught onto what she was getting at and turned, needing to take a step back to properly look over the building next to him. He knew what a music shop was - even if he didn't, the words said more than enough - but he'd only ever been able to glimpse the symbols in the shop titles if he leaned off the sleigh and squinted.

Marinette released his hand, walking over and leaning against the glass. "What do you think? Selling CD, instruments, and other music-y things? Would you want a place like this, if you could?" He blanked, and she grew sheepish in response, adding, "S-sorry, is it weird? I thought maybe it'd be nice to think about, but if it just makes things more sad—"

"No, I mean—it isn't weird, or sad," he assured, just happy to be thought of. Since the opportunity to think had presented itself, he took a few more steps back, careful of the sidewalk's edge as he did so. He let his mind wander as he took in the shop, trying to piece it all together even with its lights off and figuring that a little fantasizing wouldn't hurt.

After a moment of thought, he explained, "I'd still want to make instruments at least. I don't know if it'd be everything I do, but... I'm good at it. I enjoy it." He shrugged. "I've never really gotten the chance to try anything else."

She nodded in understanding, and it was hard not to include her in his little fantasy when she was posed in front of the shop like she wanted to be. It was almost cruel, asking him to dream and then standing there like the absolute beauty she was.

He took a few more minutes to stare at the building, admiring the way the owner - or whoever had decorated - had hung the lights like staff lines. Candy canes and wreaths were a poor substitute for notes, but he nevertheless appreciated the effort.

Once he was satisfied, he turned his attention back to Marinette and considered how to approach their walk again. He debated on whether it'd be appropriate to take her hand again when he remembered that she'd happily slid her hand back into his earlier. Given that, he had no problem doing the same, offering his hand out and smiling when she graciously took it.

"I don't have a lot of experience with music myself," she admitted as they continued walking. "I just know a lot of people who are into music." She paused, then glanced at him curiously. "Do you play the drums?"

"A little." It wasn't one of his favorites, but he could play it decently enough if he was in the mood.

"Well, a friend of mine plays the drums. He always wanted to be in a band, but couldn't find all the members he needed for it." She raised her free hand above her head. "Big guy, but kind of that looks can be deceiving type; he's a total softie. I bet he'd like you."

Luka was half-tempted to imply that she was trying to set him up with someone, but settled for joking, "If he doesn't accidentally step on me first."

Marinette gasped in offense, then pouted and pushed against him just enough to make him stumble. "You are not that short!"

He laughed, quickly regaining his balance and giving a one-armed shrug. "To him, I'd probably seem like it."

"Still." She huffed. "You're not allowed to joke about that. I like your height."

That caught him off-guard, and he stumbled without Marinette giving him any sort of push. She was already holding his hand, so she helped steady him.

"Luka?" she called with concern.

He looked up at her, blurting out immediately, "You mean it?"

She blushed at his directness. "Y-yes? Why, did you not expect me to?"

"It's not like that. I know you enough by now, but—" He frowned, eyes darting around as he struggled to find a way to explain how he felt.

She smiled sympathetically, gently tugging on his hand to bring him back to reality. He let her, and they continued walking down the path.

"Since I'm a fashion designer, I deal with models all the time," she began, "because they're always the one who have to wear the clothes I make. They're basically the spitting image of perfection: tall, hair that never tangles, camera-ready smile, the works. It's not like they're all bad, but I know they're not all angels either. I'm polite enough to all of them since it's my job, but I still think things that I just never say out loud." She glanced up at the sky, seeming to reminisce. "My parents always raised me not to judge people based on appearance or where they came from, and to judge them based on how they act instead. I've always believed in and followed that." She laughed, adding, "I mean, that's kind of standard, isn't it? It's one of those things that just sounds right."

He looked at nothing else but her as she talked, anticipation building in his chest while he wondered what she was leading up to.

She paused for a minute, rubbing her face with her free hand while she gathered her words. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter but no less genuine.

"I... guess I cheat in a way," she admitted. "Because I do judge people on appearances, but only the appearance I've built up in my head after I really got to really know them. There are some really stuck-up models that I can't stand, and I think they're some of the ugliest people in the world, but then there are friends I have who I've heard people snidely whisper about behind their backs, and then I don't get it because I look at my friends and think they should be the ones modeling my clothes instead."

His gaze briefly flickered down to the clothes he was wearing, then up to the scenery around them. He didn't know exactly where they were, but they'd apparently left all of the buildings behind at some point, now standing near the center of a large area with small Christmas trees all around it. The lights were all gentle shades of white and yellow, strung around everywhere to the point where it was almost too bright for him to handle. Still, it brought a sense of calm to the atmosphere, with the bonus effect of making Marinette almost seem to glow.

She brought them to a stop, her hand releasing his and then raising up to rest on the top of his head. He looked up at her, noting how she wasn't condescending to him, but rather admiring him.

"Maybe it's a visual thing for me, because I see patterns and design wherever I go," she supposed, "but no matter what it is, it doesn't make it any less true." Her gaze turned soft, smile widening. "I meant what I said during movie night, Luka. I think you're really unique, and only in all of the best ways. I guess it's a little weird to say that I like your height, but... it's a part of you, so I like it. Too many people carry the traits or posture or designs of other people because they're not comfortable with themselves, but you are. You're 100% Luka and it's obvious in everything you do. You carry everything about yourself like it's really yours. I love that." Apparently, she couldn't make eye contact anymore and averted his gaze, dropping her hand from his head but remained smiling. "P-plus, your size is perfect for hugging, or maybe that's just me?"

"...It's... it's not," Luka replied, his voice was perhaps too quiet for her to make out; judging from how she blushed though, she must've heard it or at least felt it in his reaction.

She was too much, and his heart was doing flips in his chest. It wasn't like being around the other elves where they were playing a bunch of songs that didn't go together; with Marinette, it was only one song, and it was loud without being piercing, blocking out everything else so all he could hear was her. It occurred to him belatedly how they could've not met so easily had he just not delivered presents to her house, or left before she'd seen him, and the thought was painful. Maybe it was the high-intensity emotions that always came with Christmas speeding things up, or maybe it was just her being as amazing as she was, or maybe it was a combination of both.

It didn't matter to him either way. He was in love with her, and he was certain of it. Factor that in with the lighting and mood, and he knew the moment was perfect.

He dug his hand back into the pocket, the box still comfortably waiting there. Gripping it gently, he looked up and called out, "Marinette?"

She tilted her head at him, then glanced at his hand in his pocket, curiosity joining with the fondness in her expression. He pulled the present from his pocket and held it out to her, opening his hand fully to let it rest in his palm.

She stiffened in surprise, blinking a few times before pointing at the little box. "For me?"

He nodded, smiling because of course it was for her; not because she was the only one there, but because the gift was specifically designed with her in mind.

Her hand raised, hesitated, then slowly came down to rest on the box. Luka brought his hand up and set it down over hers, briefly making eye contact as he insisted gently, "I couldn't ask you why without ruining the surprise, so just know that you don't have to wear them if you can't, or even if you just don't want to, okay?"

Her brows arched up in surprise, but she nodded, now seeming even more curious than before. He let his hand drop back to his side so she could properly take the box, and she turned it around a few times to really take in the gift. She even smiled at him, as if to thank him preemptively for the present.

He found himself holding his breath, trying not to hope or set any expectations and reminding himself that she might not like it.

Then, the lid came off, and she immediately dropped it as she saw the contents of the box. Luka hurried and caught the lid before it hit the ground, his eyes darting up to search her expression, noting the wide eyes and parted lips.

Inside the box was a pair of rose gold earrings, shaped and with the pink flower he'd occasionally seen in the clothes she wore painted right in the center. Only able to stand there and wait for her to say something, he took the time to explain, "That flower always seemed special to you, so I... wanted to get you a different way of wearing it." He gestured to it, grinning sheepishly at her. "I know it might not be perfect; I had to draw it when I got home and then pass it to one of the jewelers to make. We're allowed to ask other elves for specific gifts and it's considered impolite for them to ask questions, so they just got right to work." He turned his hand up to look at his gloved palm, chuckling as he added, "I felt bad making them do all the work when you always put your whole heart into making me gifts, so I tried to help where I could even if I wasn't great at it."

She gasped, finally tearing her gaze away from the gift to look at him. "Y-you did?" she asked breathlessly. "You weren't hurt, were you?"

"A little, but—" He stopped when she grabbed the edge of his glove with her free hand, pulling it off and putting it in her pocket so she could inspect his hand and fingertips; she’d even removed her glove to be as precise as possible. He smiled like a fool, continuing, "I'm alright now. It healed up pretty quickly, and I was just happy that I could do a little bit of the work."

Despite him saying that he was okay, she didn't release his hand. Her eyes were misty, her hand turning his palm back down so she could grab his hand by its fingers. She took a step towards him, closing a distance that was already lovingly close, then leaned forward and brought his hand so close to her face that she could've kissed it if she made the effort to.

She exhaled, and he blushed at her warm breath against his fingers. After a few seconds of relaxed silence, she told him, "I ended up having to give up my old earrings. There... wasn't as much use for them anymore." She shut her eyes, clearly overwhelmed. "But I couldn't just replace them; they had too many memories to replace with any old earrings. My friends offered to buy me new ones a long time ago since it seemed like a shame to not have earrings while my ears were still pierced, but I always rejected them."

She stared at him meaningfully. He swallowed.

"Thank you, Luka," she whispered. "I-I love them. They're perfect. Of course I'll wear them."

His heart leaped in his chest. "Really?"

She nodded eagerly. Though, despite saying that, neither of them moved from their positions, Marinette still holding his hand in hers and him never pulling away from it. They were in a trance of sorts, lost in each other's gaze and the intensity of the moment.

Then, Marinette dropped his hand, though only to take the one that still held the lid of the box. She guided it to her other hand, Luka sliding the lid back on to keep the earrings protected.

Neither of them knew who moved first. Someone must've had to, or maybe it was both of them, but the result was that they were suddenly kissing each other, with Luka raised up on his tip toes and Marinette leaned down to meet him halfway. She had the present clutched delicately against her chest, her other arm snaking around his waist while he had his hands on her shoulders.

He never, even in his wildest dreams, imagined being able to kiss her, yet they were there and the lingering taste of hot chocolate and marshmallows from her lips confirmed that it was real. As close as they were and for as long as it was, he realized that she had a strong scent, like she'd made sure to shower, dry, and dress for the cold weather just before he'd gotten there.

It only made him kiss her more, and she responded just as fervently. It was as if they'd both wanted it for the longest time and didn't think they'd get it, now taking advantage of the opportunity as much as possible.

Luka shuddered as he felt Marinette's hand move slowly up his back. He responded eagerly, slipping his hands past her shoulders so he could wrap his arms around her neck. She hummed contentedly, her hand leaving his back so she could slip her fingers underneath his beanie, her nails briefly tracing along the outside of his ear. He whined into the kiss, though certainly not protesting, then relaxed as her fingers went further to run themselves through his hair.

He was cherishing the feeling, far too happy to care about anything else, when the kiss suddenly broke with a soft click, followed by Marinette gasping.

"A-ah, I... I'm sorry!"

He opened his eyes, blinking dazedly at her. He worried briefly that she was apologizing for kissing him, but then he felt the beanie being pulled back over one of his ears; he could only guess it'd shifted when her hand drew further back into his hair. His head and heart were pounding from the thrill of the kiss, and he noticed that Marinette's cheeks were flushed red even as she looked around to make sure there hadn't been anyone around to see him.

"M...marinette," he managed, still a little out of breath.

She met his gaze, her blush reddening further. She brought her free hand to her face, her lips pressed together in contemplation before turning into a nervous yet silly smile. "I-I guess... we should go home and talk?"

He could only nod. Their conversations had already been personal, but it only made sense to talk about that back at her house, especially because he was still waiting for his brain to start working again.

Marinette turned away, paused, then looked back at him and shyly extended her hand out, her other hand still holding his gift to her chest. He reached out, paused, then switched his gloves around and took the hand offered to him with his ungloved one so they could start the walk back.

Naturally, they held hands the whole way.

—————

Luka sat back on the couch, taking a deep breath as he waited for Marinette to finish making hot chocolate. He'd offered to help, but she'd insisted that he sit and relax for a while.

"B-besides, your smile is really distracting."

He grinned to himself, reaching up and removing the beanie from his head so he could admire it. They'd ditched their gloves and shoes earlier for the sake of comfort, so he could properly feel along the fabric and appreciate Marinette's talent. He knew they had a serious talk coming up, but he couldn't help feeling as calm and content as he did, even sighing in delight at the memory of their kiss.

He looked over as he heard footsteps and saw Marinette emerge from the kitchen, two cups of hot chocolate in her hands. As she headed towards him, he noticed a shine on her ear caused by caught light from the Christmas tree, his breath briefly catching as he realized what it meant.

She was really wearing the earrings.

She sat down on the couch slowly so as to not spill the drinks, then offered him one. He gratefully took it with one hand and set the beanie onto the table with the other, positively beaming at the sight of her earrings. His big smile must've made her grow sheepish, what with the way she averted her gaze, so he cupped both hands around his cup to steady himself with the intense heat.

It didn't take long for Marinette to speak, "So, what do we do now? I really like you, Luka, but... I mean..." She looked over at him, more easily maintaining eye contact this time. "Have you ever heard of a relationship between a human and an elf?"

He racked his brain, trying to think of anything even close to that, but came up empty. "No. Maybe it happened a long time ago, but I guess elves don't interact with humans enough. I just got lucky because I was helping Santa out." He stared into the hot chocolate, watching the marshmallows idly float around. "And I can't - I wouldn't - ask you to give up your life for me."

"I wouldn't ask you to give up yours either!" she countered. "I know you don't have it as nice, but it's still uprooting your entire life. You'd still have to learn how to live here and constantly hide your ears."

"I wouldn't mind doing any of that," he argued. When she stared at him in surprise, he added, "But I wouldn't want you to have to deal with that."

"What?" She tilted her head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You having to teach me everything," he explained, "and supporting me until I'd figure out how to live like a human would. We'd have to think up a fake story for how we met if anyone asks, and I know you don't care about my height, but—"

"You've thought about this a lot," she said, though fondly rather than accusingly.

He shrugged, taking a larger sip of his drink and swallowing one of the marshmallows in the process. "It was the only thing I could think about on the way back."

It was a half-truth; he'd been wondering about it for a while, even before they'd kissed. There was a part of him that'd fantasized about staying with her, even if it was strictly friendly on her end, and the requirements were similar regardless.

Marinette giggled. "You're too sweet." Despite her happy tone, she was frowning and staring off at the wall not even a minute later. "What about rules?"

"Rules?" he echoed.

"Of the North Pole. Are there... rules to elves deciding they want to leave?"

"I—" He paused to think. "...probably not, but only because we can't really leave in the first place."

"Because it's the North Pole," she supplied.

"Yeah."

Troubled, Marinette looked down at her cup, slowly moving it in a circle to watch the liquid swirl around. She took a thoughtful sip, then sighed, admitting softly, "I know you were worried, but... I wouldn't have minded dealing with all that."

"Huh? You—" He cut himself off, remembering what he'd said earlier about not wanting her to deal with all the problems that came with staying with her. He still didn't want to trouble her, but it made him happy knowing that she'd accept him even with all the troubles that came with it. "...Thank you." Then, recalling that he too had something he hadn't properly responded to, he told her fondly, "I really like you too, Marinette."

He knew that she already knew that, but he could tell that the words filled her with emotions regardless. She gripped her pants with her free hand, taking a shaky breath, then seemed to consider finishing off her hot chocolate before simply setting it down on the table.

"I guess we're both bad at being selfish," she admitted.

He could only nod. At the very least, he couldn't stay now without having said good-bye to his limited family. He tried to imagine explaining the situation to them, but his sister would probably call him a fool for bothering coming back in the first place and not prioritizing his happiness, whereas his mother would roll her eyes and chide him for not stealing a reindeer to make it back to Marinette (how would it make it back without him anyway?).

It was his fourth year knowing Marinette, but their meetings were annual and he couldn't predict what could happen in her future. It may’ve not be against the rules for him to stay, but more because it hadn't been something anyone had really thought of; not technically against the rules, but not allowed either.

He eventually settled on saying, "I wish I could stay," knowing that said enough without saying much at all. He set his hot chocolate down beside hers, staring at the two cups before looking over at Marinette. "I can't ask you to..." He stopped short. "Marinette, if you find someone else—"

A flash of hurt flickered across her expression. "Luka."

He winced, but she took his arm before he could respond, pulling and guiding him onto her lap. She took his face in her hands, then brought him in for a quick kiss.

The hot chocolate tasted so much better from her lips.

She held the kiss for a few fleeting seconds before breaking away, promptly pouting at him. "I could say the same thing to you."

He felt the same flash of hurt that she had, immediately regretting what he'd blurted out. "I'm sorry."

"No, I know you just..." She stroked his face with a thumb, smiling sadly. "I know you care. That's what I love about you. I get that you don't want me waiting on a yearly meeting for my—" She blushed, dropping her gaze. "—boyfriend."

He broke out of the sad mood enough to blush as well.

Marinette shook her head, quickly getting back on track. "But I want you, okay? I'll wait, and maybe we'll figure something out eventually, but—well—" She took his hands in hers, peeking up at him shyly. "I can't imagine not kissing you when you come back next year."

Getting emotional himself, Luka let out a breathy chuckle. "I can't imagine breaking up with you when we just got together."

She nodded vigorously in agreement, arms raising for a hug that he immediately accepted. They squeezed each other, their remaining time suddenly seeming so short.

"I'll do whatever I can, Marinette," he told her. "I want more of this; more than just Christmas."

"If you can make it happen, it’ll happen?" she asked softly, echoing their first meeting together.

He smiled. "Yeah."

Once they’d properly cherished the moment, she placed her hands on his shoulders. He obeyed the wordless order by pulling away, but she kept him firmly in her lap.

"For now, there's still some time left," she reminded him, bringing a hand back up to his face. Brushing the back of her fingers along his cheek, she added, "I don't know how much I'll need from you to hold me over for a year."

Her voice was still sad, but there was a playfulness there that made him feel like he could smile more genuinely. He leaned in, reflecting her earlier actions by taking her face in his hands. "I planned on giving you everything anyway, Marinette."

Hours later, he'd leave for the sleigh with her love in his heart and a bittersweet smile shaped by kiss-bruised lips.

~ ∘˚˳°✧°˳˚∘ ~

Luka spent a year looking for answers and ultimately found nothing. He'd searched for everything he and Marinette had talked about - an elf having a relationship with a human, and any rules on elves leaving - but there weren't any records about such things. He wondered if maybe a relationship between an elf and a human had happened, but no record had been made or it'd been purposefully kept under wraps. He also figured he might've been overthinking it, as it was like every relationship between elves were carefully cataloged; it wouldn't have been fair to the ones who chose not to get together with anyone at all. As for rules, he couldn't find any; he knew his mom would've known all the rules since you have to know them to break them, but she'd never heard of a rule saying that elves specifically couldn't leave. Still, Luka imagined it was an unspoken rule, and he was also the best instrument-making elf the workshop had, so would they really be willing to part with him anyway?

He wasn't sure. The days leading up to Christmas were chaos while he searched further for anything confirming that he could leave and be with Marinette. Even his sister and mother had been acting strange, though he knew he hadn't told them anything about Marinette.

Still, they'd hugged him before he'd gotten on the sleigh with Santa.

The ride around the world felt both long and short at the same time; short because he was dreading telling Marinette that he hadn't found anything useful, and long because Santa was taking a different route. The latter was something Santa did every year, but it was particularly strange this time around.

Luka used the MP3 player Marinette had given him to pass the time while he gathered his thoughts. He supposed that no one could technically do anything if he just chose not to go back; he was important, but certainly not needed. It was selfish, but it was also very in-character for someone who was "Anarka's son" and he was living a life he never asked for otherwise.

Of course, he also had no way of contacting Marinette from the North Pole, and thus no way to ask her if that would really be okay. What if someone came back to look for him and tangled her up in his troubles? He'd hate that more than only getting to visit her once a year.

He wasn't any closer to coming to a conclusion by the time they got to Marinette's house, and he quickly realized that it was their last stop of the whole trip.

Luka glanced at Santa with a raised brow, then down at the roof.

He could hear the shrug in Santa's response, "Might as well save the best for last, hm?" With a pat on the back so forceful that it nearly knocked Luka off the sled, he added quickly, "Good luck, Luka!"

Luka mentally dismissed the idea of questioning it, his mind already having too many thoughts to deal with. He got the sack of presents as always, then descended down from the roof and through the window, climbing in with care.

Marinette had rearranged the tree and decorations, as always, though Marinette herself was nowhere to be found. He knew he was technically late due to the different route, so perhaps she'd gone off to occupy herself until he arrived? Hoping that was the case, he walked over to the tree and knelt down, setting the sack to his side like always. Once he'd opened it up, he reached inside to grab the first present.

His fingers touched nothing.

He stiffened in shock, then tried again, outstretching his arm as far as it would go. Maybe the sack was just messing with him?

Yet, he still couldn't find a single present, and patting at the sack - in hindsight, he probably should've done in the first place - revealed that there was definitely nothing inside. He didn't understand; why would Marinette not get him any gifts, and why would they stop there in the first place if there wasn't?

His thoughts were cut off as he heard a sharp gasp from behind him. He shot up - half in surprise, half in excitement at the voice's familiarity - and spun around to see Marinette standing there. She was dressed in some mix of casual and nightwear while her hands were clasped over her mouth, eyes wide as she stared at him.

He blinked, thoroughly confused at the reaction, then searched nearby to see if maybe something was wrong. He couldn't see anything off, though the sack had apparently made itself scarce while he wasn't looking.

Regaining some of her composure, Marinette moved one hand away from her mouth and silently pointed to her back. He tried to look at his back over his shoulder, but when that failed, he reached behind himself and blindly moved his hand around.

He jumped a bit when he felt something that definitely wasn't fabric. He struggled to grab hold of it, as it had apparently been stuck to the fabric somehow, but he eventually managed to snag a corner and slowly peel it off.

He held it out in front of himself, needing to rotate and flip it in order to properly read what it said.

His heart skipped a beat.

To Marinette, From Santa

He glanced up at Marinette, his mouth agape, and was now able to see the beaming smile on her face. She couldn't hold back anymore, rushing towards him, and he quickly threw the note aside so he could spread his arms out for her. She hugged him tight, spinning him around before leaning down to bury her face in his shoulder.

"I asked for you this year," she whispered.

Suddenly, everything made sense. Santa knew that he'd wanted to leave. His family knew because they'd been told. Marinette hadn't received any other presents because she'd wanted nothing else but him.

He shook, overwhelmed with emotion. How was she the solution to everything for him, all the time?

Marinette pulled away from the hug after a solid minute, though that still wasn't long enough for him. She blushed, embarrassed as she explained, "S-sorry that I look like this, by the way. We're b-boyfriend and girlfriend, so I thought that maybe I should dress up, but then I thought that it might be romantic if I dressed up like I did when we first met, or like I did when we watched our first movie together, but then I heard the window and—"

"Marinette..."

She paused to look at him attentively, stopping her talking just long enough for him to reach up and pulled her down to his level. He kissed her, slowly at first and then more greedily as he realized that he was finally with her for the whole year and not just Christmas. Marinette was surprised at first, but it didn't take her long to start kissing him back.

Their height difference seemed so small when they were kissing, and once their legs started getting tired, they simply moved to the couch to continue. They both knew there were serious things to think about, like fake backstories, different headwear to hide Luka's ears, and what their living situation was going to be like...

But for now, it was enough for them to just enjoy the moment.

#type: story #story: multi chapter #event: Christmas #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Elf Luka Couffaine #Short Luka Couffaine #((Sit in for the long haul on this one because it's over 10000 words.))#((Not a ''triple threat'' like last year but it's longer than all of them combined so--))#((yeah I wasn't gonna do another one lol.))#((I know I left the original open-ended but it bothered me that I didn't give these two a resolution~))#((Enjoy your human/elf whirlwind romance.))#Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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leigh-kelly · 3 years

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Completions and Connections: Quarantine Christmas

So 2020, huh? Ugh. Santana and I had started the year amazingly, with Tyler turning a year old and me kind of setting up a schedule that let me go on assignment more than I had in his first year—though, so much less than I had before I had a wife and a son to want to be home with. Things were good...and then they weren’t. But obviously everyone can relate, you know, it didn’t happen in a bubble or anything.

I was in Sweden when Santana called me utterly freaking out. Because I was always pretty isolated from the news when I was traveling and she hadn’t seemed especially worried about COVID until shit hit the fan, I was taken almost entirely by surprise. She told me that it looked like everything was going to shut down, she didn’t know what was going to happen with the borders and she wanted me to come home as soon as possible. Honestly, in hindsight I should have had her bring Tyler to Sweden where there was actually a competent federal government, but obviously that’s not what happened.

I called my boss immediately and within hours, I’d abandoned my shoot and was on a plane bound for New York. Nothing else really mattered to me except getting home to them and since everyone was in a collective state of what the fuck, no one even argued with me about it. Two days later, Discover pulled all of their foreign correspondents anyway, so I pretty much got out just in time. We figured it would be two weeks, a month maybe, and then things would get back to normal. Little did we know how wrong we were.

Back in New York, things were...weird. People packed up and left the city in droves, everything looked abandoned and I immediately wished that we had a place in the mountains that we could go to. We probably could have bought something, that was true, but Santana had her practice and we both knew she wouldn’t abandon that, she’d worked too hard for it.

Yeah, so speaking of that. Tyler’s daycare shut down with everything else, I was home indefinitely, but my wife, my beautiful, amazing wife, still had to go to work every day. That was the scariest thing for us, knowing that she could be exposed at any given moment, knowing that she could bring it home to Tyler and I. We knew she was as safe as could be, she stockpiled PPE on a regular basis because she dealt with disease anyway and was super precautious about protection, but we couldn’t help but wonder if it would be enough. For two days, we discussed whether she should go stay with Unique and isolate from us, but Tyler was still nursing and we thought it would really mess him up if she was gone. We had no idea if we were making the right choice, but it was a choice we had to make.

Everything was a major adjustment. Tyler and I had to learn a new routine during the day where I pulled ideas from Pinterest to do with him and ordered about a zillion boxes from Amazon full of activities. I took him out on walks in the early morning before people were outside, letting him breathe the fresh air when it was safe and taking pictures of the empty city, figuring at some point Discover might want them for a series and quite honestly, missing being behind the lens of a camera. I learned to bake bread, I made elaborate dinners and I fought so much boredom, remembering every day that it was better to be bored than dead.

It was different for Santana though. Though she wasn’t working with diagnosed COVID patients, she never knew what was walking through her door. Each night, she came home with marks under her eyes from her N-95, a band indent around her head from her face shield, and her face just so tired from doing the best she could to provide her patients with care in the midst of everything else. So I held her tight, I told her how much I loved her, how proud of her I was, but that didn’t help on the nights she heard that a patient had died, that didn’t help when she heard from contact tracers that someone had been to her office who tested positive and she shut herself up in the guest bedroom away from Tyler and me and waited anxiously for her latest round of test results.

But onto the more positive, our boy absolutely thrived. Turns out I was kinda good at the whole stay at home mom thing and I was glad that I found fulfillment in that. Plus, I wasn’t halfway around the world when he took his first steps, didn’t miss him say “mama” for the first time and all of that good stuff. We FaceTimed with my parents and Santana’s all the time, made sure they got to see him grow. When things got a little better in the summer, Tina would join us on our walks with her son and the two boys would babble away to each other from their respective strollers. And most importantly, we learned to look for the good, we tried to ignore the worst in people and see the best because it was really the only way we could get through it.

Christmas was three days away and though we wouldn’t do our customary dinner with Santana’s parents, she and I were still really excited that our boy was in love with the lights on the tree, that he was big enough to sit on the counter with us while we made Christmas cookies, could sit through half of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer before he got fussy. Maybe Christmas was really different then it had ever been before—and Christmas was obviously so important to Santana and I—but that didn’t mean that it couldn’t still be magical.

“Office is officially closed until December 27th.” Santana burst into the house that evening, her red scarf wrapped around her neck and the biggest grin on her face as soon as she pulled off her mask. “Let me shower and change and then I’m going to give you two the biggest kisses.”

Like she did every day when she came home from work, Santana immediately stripped off her clothes and put them in the washing machine and jumped right in the shower. I missed being able to kiss her as soon as she walked in the door, but we both knew it was much safer to wait twenty minutes until any surface germs were off of her. Tyler didn’t exactly get it, he still whined and waited outside the bathroom door, but he was always the first one she kissed, our sweet little boy.

“Come on, Ty, let’s make Mama an espresso so she can sit down and relax with us when she gets out.”

I took the baby into the kitchen with me and made Santana’s afternoon drink, sprinkling a little cinnamon on top, because it was almost Christmas after all and I wanted it to be special for her. When she came out of the shower, she took Tyler from my arms and kissed him all over his face, laughing right along with him and his sweet little giggles. Then she sandwiched him between us and kissed my lips, smiling as she did. I knew that her job was more stressful than ever and the five days off would do her some real good.

“What’s on the Christmas agenda tonight, Britt?” She asked, putting Tyler on her hip and taking her cup from me.

“My parents want to FaceTime, if that’s okay with you.”

“Obviously, we haven’t talked to them since last week.”

“Yeah, well, you know how my mom is.” I shrugged, thinking that she was probably a little pissed that we told her not to come for Christmas and Ty’s birthday, but it was what it was. “It probably won’t be long, who knows?”

“Are you okay, babe?”

“Yeah I guess I’m just aggravated with her. She’s asked me like four hundred times if we changed our minds about her coming. This is like Thanksgiving all over again.”

“I mean, I get it, it sucks. Everyone wants to be with their families and I can’t wait until this is over so we can take Ty to Colorado, but we’re just not there yet.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Obviously, Britt, you tell me all your secrets. You couldn’t even hang onto my birthday gift for more than a day after you got it this year.”

“I love Christmas Eve with your parents, it would have been nice to have mine here, but I kind of selfishly am looking forward to this year being just the three of us. Last year poor Tyler was so tired when we got home from your parents’, Christmas Day will be better with him on his regular routine.”

“I agree, and I honestly am looking forward to just relaxing with you guys, no stress, no drama, no dealing with my grandmother who can’t even bring herself to look at our son.” She shook her head. “Plus, it’s our anniversary, I do love the idea of not having your parents in the apartment that night.”

“Oh really?” I smirked and she laughed, before Tyler pat her face and shouted ‘Mama!’

“I know, baby boy, Mommy and I are totally ignoring you. “Let’s go play for a little while before we have to start dinner.”

So I was obsessed with watching Santana on the floor with Tyler. It started when he was a baby and she’d lay beside him got tummy time. I could never resist taking out my camera and getting a few shots of them together, especially because he was the spitting image of her and they just looked absolutely beautiful together. Santana always teased me about how many pictures I had, but I couldn’t help myself ever. They were too much and I loved them with everything in me.

Santana got so involved with playing with Tyler that I assured her I’d make dinner and slipped off into the kitchen, leaving them on the floor playing with his ball tower. It was hard to believe that our kid was almost two, that it had been so long since she and I reunited on Christmas Eve in the grocery store. But it was perfect. It really was, even in the midst of 2020, I had nothing to complain about in my life. We were healthy, we were happy and though we’d really been isolated from everyone else, we knew how loved we were.

We had barely finished eating dinner when my phone rang and I sighed a little when I looked down and saw that it was my mother. I really didn’t want another fight with her and as much as I wanted her to see Tyler, even through the screen, it had been hard. She was a hippie at heart and she didn’t do well with feeling like the government was controlling her, so I had to explain only about a thousand times that it was for her safety and everyone else’s.

“Hi Grandma.” I held the phone in front of Tyler and he grinned and waved.

“Hi Mamaw!”

“It’s my little Ty! Oh how I want to kiss your face and squeeze you!”

“Here we go.” I mouthed to Santana who rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you think Grandma should come for Christmas? I promise, I’ll bring lots of presents.”

“Mom!” I turned the phone away from him and toward me. “Not cool.”

“It’s just me and your father, Brittany, it’s not like we’re bringing the whole world to see you.”

“We said no. We’re not seeing Santana’s parents, we’re not seeing our friends. The case count is rising and it’s only going to get worse after Christmas. We refuse to put anyone at risk.”

“Whitney, listen.” Santana took the phone from me, sensing my frustration. “I promise the first thing that we’ll do when this is over is come to Colorado, okay?”

“But it’s been a year since I’ve seen my grandson, your parents have at least seen him outside.”

“I know, and if you lived closer, we would see you outside too, but that’s just not what’s going on.”

“It just doesn’t feel like the holiday season.”

“It’s one year, Mom.” I took the phone back. “That’s it. And I’ve told you this more times than I can count. You calling and harassing us and trying to bribe Tyler isn’t going to change that.”

“I think dinner’s ready, I have to go.”

She hung up the call before I could say anything else and Santana came behind me and squeezed my shoulders. I relaxed into her body and she kissed my neck, knowing that always got my mind off of anything else. But then, Tyler started crying and I kind of wanted to punch my mom since he enjoyed talking to her so much and I didn’t think it was fair that she was taking out her frustrations on him.

“C’mere, baby.” I lifted him out of his high chair and gave him a squeeze. “It’s bath time!”

It was kind of funny how after Tyler was born, I became so much less awkward around people. Whenever I was able to stay put in New York, I had taken him to his Music Together class, to the park, wherever I could, you know, back when those things were still open and having him almost made me have some kind of common ground with other human beings so I didn’t just blurt out whatever was on my mind as often. Not to say it didn’t still happen, I was still me, after all, but I think Santana and I both really changed once he came along, in the best way possible.

The next day, we FaceTimed with the Changs, Kurt and Dave who had been working from home and isolating outside of the city since March and Mercedes, who had been pulling a real Taylor Swift and writing album after album in quarantine. While Tyler napped, Santana and I finished wrapping the last of his presents and got them all situated to put under the tree for the next night. I was beyond excited for the non-traditional Christmas, just ready to watch Christmas movies and drink hot cocoa in our pajamas and I knew Santana was too.

The next morning, Tyler woke us up before six and I told Santana to stay in bed while I went across the hall to get him. He completely beamed up at me, though his eyes were still tired, and I lifted him into my arms to bring him into our bedroom. Once he was in the bed, he crawled around, pawing at Santana’s face and she finally sat up with a laugh, kissing him all over his face.

“Merry Christmas Eve, little dude.” She told him. “You know Santa’s coming tonight.”

“Santa! Santa!” He clapped, though neither of us were really sure he even knew what that meant.

“What do you want to do today, babe?” Santana asked me and I shrugged.

“I mean, we’re doing the Christmas movie marathon tomorrow and you know, we ate all the fudge your mom dropped off...”

“So you want to make fudge?”

“I mean, you’re the keeper of Maribel Lopez’s secret fudge recipe, it only seems right.”

“If you want fudge, you get fudge.” She smiled and I did a little happy dance in the bed. The fudge was honestly so good that sometimes, when I was gone for longer than I’d like and I was hitting that homesickness point, Santana would send it in a care package. Yeah, my wife was cute like that, she didn’t stop sending me care packages just because we had rings on our fingers. The best, seriously.

So we made the fudge. Then we went for a walk in the park, where there were thankfully not too many people to have to dodge and we looked up at the sky, thinking it really looked like snow was coming. A white Christmas would be nice and probably the most un-2020 thing to happen so I really kind of was looking forward to it. Once Tyler was asleep in his stroller, we went home and Santana carried him upstairs to his bed and we went to do one last double check on the gifts.

“You’re sure you’re cool with being Santa tonight?” She asked me.

“We couldn’t take him to Macy’s and he needs to have a picture with Santa, of course I’m cool with being Santa. We got the suit and the pillows and the beard, I’m so ready.”

“You’re really the best mom, you know that right?”

“Please...you’re like super mom or something.”

“Just let me give you a compliment, Britt.” She rolled her eyes. “I hate that everything has sucked pretty bad in the world, but him having you around every day, and me not having to freak out about if he was safe while I went to work is definitely the best thing that ever could have happened.”

“It feels really good to be able to do it. I don’t know, looking at the map in his nursery showing me in New York for the past nine months has been really good, I feel like I miss a lot when I’m gone.”

“Do you not want to do it anymore?”

“No, I do, I’m just grateful for the time. And to be honest, I don’t think my job is ever going to go back to looking like what it used to, so maybe that means a lot more time with you both.”

“We’re so lucky, you know? I thought about it a lot this year, like what if I would have been single when this happened and isolated from my parents and my friends. It’s hard enough some days, but going through it alone...”

“Yeah, I know. I totally do. Even in the shittiest year, the world is a whole lot better with you and Tyler in it.”

After another hour or so, Tyler woke up and was ready to play. We pulled over his learning tower in the kitchen and he stood at the counter with us as we cooked our Christmas Eve feast. Just because it was the three of us didn’t mean we weren’t going to do tamales and a pork shoulder like we did every year at Santana’s parents—although luckily, we’d prepared the tamales ahead of time—and even though it was a little early, Santana poured bourbon into our eggnog and we started celebrating.

After dinner, I went upstairs and changed into my Santa suit. Maybe people would think it said something about gender roles or what the fuck ever that I was the one to dress up as Santa, but it wasn’t like that. I just thought it would be really fun and figured we could get our Christmas picture of Tyler. While Santana had him in his bedroom, I slipped out of the door to our apartment and waited with my mask in the hallway for Santana to open up to my knocks. When the door swung open, she held Tyler in her arms and I gave my best ‘ho ho ho’ carrying two gifts for him.

“Mommy!” He shouted, clapping his hands and giggling. “Mommy!”

“That’s not Mommy, silly boy.” Santana laughed, eyes sparkling. “It’s Santa Claus.”

“No, Mommy!”

“Alright.” I chuckled, taking off my beard and hat so as not to confuse him. “You’re right. C’mere, buddy.”

Santana just laughed and laughed as I took him into my arms and handed her the gifts. He was a smart one, that was for sure, and he patted my cheeks as I carried him over to the Lord Tubbington proof Christmas tree and sat down on the floor with him.

“You’re right Ty, Santa isn’t coming until after you’re asleep, I was just being silly. But look, we have some presents for you.”

We sat with him as he took his time opening his gifts, a new pair of Christmas pajamas and a copy of Olive the Other Reindeer to read at bedtime. He was really excited about the book and roughly turned the pages, trying to see all the pictures. Then, we took him up for his bath and got him settled into his new pajamas and into his bed. Santana read to him and I sat back and watched, just so in love with the two of them. I didn’t even bother to take pictures though, I just wanted to be in the moment and Santana occasionally looked over at me and smiled. Even with the shit year we’d had, it really was the perfect Christmas Eve and once Tyler’s eyes slipped closed, I leaned over and kissed Santana on the lips.

“Merry Christmas, my love.” She smiled.

“The merriest yet.”

#brittana #completions and connections #christmas fic

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