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duskandcobalt · 5 days

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Everywhere, Everything: Chapter Five

Chapter Summary: On her last night in Velaris before she heads home, Elain and Azriel finally gets a chance to talk about what's going on between them.

Word Count: 5.9k

Missed the first four chapters? You can find the Masterlist for this fic here 🥰

A/N: As always, thank you for all the love on the last chapter of this fic. It's always so much fun to hear what you guys think. An extra thank you for your patience with me in getting chapter five out. This past month has been a rough one and I haven't been writing much because of it but I finally managed to sit down and finish this chapter and I'm happy with how it turned out. I hope you are too. As always, I must remind you that this is a slow burn and we must get through a heavy dose of angst before we can reap our reward. The good news is, the reward is coming very soon.

ENJOY XX

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The first time Elain had sex with Graysen was also the first time he’d asked her about the necklace.

It was the last week of January and he’d invited her back to his apartment after he’d taken her out to dinner at a glamorous hotel that offered unbelievable views of the city for their fourth date. She’d seen the invitation for what it was. Knew exactly what he had in mind from the way he’d lowered his voice to ask her, the pad of his thumb sliding over her bottom lip. Elain had only hesitated for a moment before she’d accepted his offer, Nesta’s voice in her head from a night years ago when she imparted some wisdom to Feyre after a particularly bad breakup, her hands on Feyre’s shoulders as she looked into her teary eyes.

“Fey, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

Elain had laughed at her sister’s advice at the time but standing there outside the restaurant that night, looking at Graysen as snowflakes drifted lazily from the dark winter to sky to cling to her hair and eyelashes, she’d decided that she wanted to put Nesta’s advice to the test.

She’d spent weeks in a daze, unable to sleep as the memory of Christmas night played on repeat in her mind as if it was some sort of faulty film reel incapable of moving past a certain scene and insistent on torturing her. She had grown sick of it - sick of the guilt that consumed her for still daring to think of Azriel. For wanting him again even though she had been the one to leave.

Dating Graysen had only done so much to take the edge off, providing her a few hours of distraction each week, but she needed more. She needed to attempt to replace the phantom feeling of Azriel’s weight on top of her, the feeling of him inside her.

In a way, sleeping with Graysen had helped. She’d always liked sex. She enjoyed being close to another person, appreciated the immediate intimacy that came with having a pair of hands gripping her hips and someone’s lips on her skin. In the few times that she’d pondered what Graysen would be like in bed, she’d suspected that he would be much like the other guys she’d been with over the years and she’d been right.

His initial careful kisses had quickly progressed to deeper, bruising ones. The gentle hands that had slowly undone the zipper on the back of her dress had transitioned into firm hands that held her down and maneuvered her whichever way he liked, taking her how he wanted without taking a second to even check if she enjoyed the things he did.

Elain was used to this treatment. The rough sex. She’d come to like it - crave it, even. But every now and then, there was an occasional moment where her partner would leave and she’d be left by herself in a cold bed, thinking about things a little too long until angry tears welled in her eyes at the realisation that most of the men she’d been with felt entitled to do whatever they wanted to her. That no matter how respectful they may have been towards her or how much they genuinely liked her, they all seemed to get off on debauching a girl that was otherwise quite reserved. Graysen had been no different and because she’d always desired touch, she couldn’t help but take it however it was presented to her.

Graysen had taken the small golden pendant in between his fingers minutes after they’d finished, propping himself up on one elbow until his shadow loomed over her. His thumb had dragged over the engraving on the front - smoothing over the intricately detailed rose- before he flipped it over to study the back, turning it this way and that until it caught the little bit of dim light streaming in his window from the streetlamp outside.

“What’s the deal with this?” He’d asked her, the slightest edge to his voice. “You never take it off.”

Elain had tried her best not to freeze at the question but she couldn’t help the way her heart stopped for a split second before her heart rate picked up again, slamming against her chest like an anvil. She gently took the pendant back from him, easing it out of his grip to press it tight against her chest until she knew it would leave an oval shaped indentation on her bare skin. It was a grounding tactic, something she did to bring herself back into her body whenever her anxiety veered out of control.

What was she supposed to tell him? How could she begin to explain the necklace that she’d worn religiously every single day for the last four years? The sentimental value that such a small object held?

She couldn’t exactly tell him that every time she touched it, she thought of the hands that had made it just for her, thought of the way those same hands had grazed her skin the night Azriel had fastened it around her neck and all the things those hands had done to her the last time she’d visited home before she started dating Graysen. When she’d been propped up on Azriel’s kitchen counter and splayed out in his bed.

There was no simple way to explain that she’d never mustered up the courage to ask whether the tiny ‘A’ he’d engraved on the back stood for her last name or his first.

Instead, Elain had settled for the most honest answer she was willing to give him at the time.

“It was a birthday gift from a friend back home.”

She’d never thought that they’d get to the point where she’d have to divulge exactly who that friend was, let alone have that friend and her boyfriend in the same room together. She’d been a fool to think that Graysen wouldn’t put two and two together and last night she’d been well and truly caught out. She’d stood in front of him like a deer in headlights, one arm wrapped defensively around her stomach while her other hand clutched the necklace tight in between her fingers as if she was afraid that he’d reach out and pry it right off of her.

“Is he or is he not the friend that gave you that necklace, Elain?” Graysen had asked her once more, his lips pressed together in a firm line.

Elain had hesitated for a moment but she knew there was no way around this. There was no lie she could possibly make up to steer him away from the truth. It was plain as day who had given her that necklace and so all she could do was just nod silently and try to keep her hands from shaking.

“Unbelievable,” Graysen ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the short strands. “He’s not just a fucking friend then, is he? Didn’t seem like he goes around making jewelry for all of his friends.”

He was right. Azriel had never made anything for anyone except her. It was something that Feyre and Nesta never let him forget.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Elain took a deep breath, dropping her necklace back down and crossing her arms in front of her chest. “A friend made me a necklace for my birthday. There’s nothing else to it.”

“Did you date him?” He’d asked, his gaze unwavering as he stared her down. Daring her to try and lie to him.

“No.” Elain answered easily and honestly. “We never dated. Never even came close to it.”

Even if she’d spent plenty of time daydreaming of what it would be like to date Azriel, she’d never pursued anything more with him for reasons that were all too complicated to explain.

“But you’ve fucked him.”

He hadn’t phrased it as a question. It was a statement, his shoulders squared and his voice sure.

Elain had hesitated a second too long and she watched as something settled in his eyes that made her realise that he’d been hoping he’d been wrong and was sorely disappointed to find out that his assumption was correct.

“How many times?”

She had scoffed, shaking her head. Couldn’t believe that he would have the audacity to even ask her that question.

She’d been about to open her mouth to argue back, to ask him what number would qualify as too many times or if knowing how many times she’d slept with Azriel would affect anything, but the sound of footsteps running down the hallway caused her to pause.

She’d been saved by her nephew who had popped his little curly-haired head around the door to Rhysand’s study to innocently ask if she’d read him a book before bed.

Elain hadn’t even spared a second to look at Graysen again before taking Nyx’s small hand and allowing him to lead her up the stairs to his bedroom where he spent entirely too long picking out his book for the night.

She slipped out of Nyx’s room an hour or so later, only padding down to the kitchen to say goodnight to Feyre and Rhys, before heading back upstairs. She’d been simultaneously relieved and disappointed that Azriel had left just ten minutes before with Nesta and Cassian.

Elain had tiptoed into the room she and Graysen had taken over for the weekend, had quickly changed and silently crawled into bed, facing away from Graysen who excused himself to bed not long after their ill-fated conversation. He’d sidled up to her after a couple minutes, pulling her back against his chest while one hand slid up her stomach to cup her breast.

“Gray,” she tried her best not to flinch away from his touch. “We can’t. Not here.”

“El,” he muttered into her hair. “Come on.”

“Thought you were mad at me,” she couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her as the hand that wasn’t circling her nipple dipped under the waistband of her underwear.

“You can’t blame me for being jealous when someone else looks at you like that.” His teeth scraped over the sliver of skin that the stretched out neckline of her shirt left exposed.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of,” Elain whispered, biting down on her lip as he turned her around and pulled her on top of him.

He ground his hips upwards, letting her feel him hard against her. “Prove it to me.”

She wasn’t particularly in the mood for this but she relented, allowing him to lift her shirt over her head before she bent down and pressed kisses all the way down the center of his chest.

This was the opportunity she needed - not to take her mind off anything that had happened that day. There was nothing that could keep those memories at bay. It was simply a distraction, exactly what she needed to hopefully keep Graysen from asking more questions that she wasn’t ready to answer.

She’d give him this, let him have her just how he liked while her mind wandered elsewhere. To a place where the hands on hips weren’t his but someone else’s. To a night that featured her fingers buried in dark hair while a pair of hazel eyes looked up at her from between her thighs. It was wrong - so unbelievably wrong - to think about someone else in a moment like that. But she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t bring herself to feel guilty as she let herself get lost in the fantasy of tattooed, golden skin sliding over her own bare skin. She was only thankful that Graysen’s hand was over her mouth to keep her quiet because if it hadn’t been, she would’ve had to fight to keep a different name from slipping out from between her lips.

One more night. She just needed to make it through one more night and then she could go back to her new city and do what she did best - pretend that the life she had in this town, and the person that she was when she was here, didn’t exist at all.

…

A few months before their wedding, Nesta and Cassian had moved to a sprawling property on the outskirts of Velaris that featured a gorgeous ranch style home complete with the porch of Elain’s dreams - one that wrapped around the entire perimeter of the house and featured a built-in swing to the right of the front door. It was picture book perfect and it helped to ease the loss both Feyre and Elain felt when Nesta moved… even if she was only a forty-five minute drive away.

Elain had always looked forward to spending a weekend at Nesta and Cassian’s. She and Feyre would pack a bag and head up to their cousin’s house where the three of them would sit shoulder to shoulder on the swing, a thick blanket draped across their laps as they watched the sun set over the mountains. If they were lucky, Cassian would bring them snacks and drinks until either bugs or the cold sent the three of them heading back inside.

This time, instead of a gossip filled car ride with her sister, Elain and Graysen had made the journey in almost complete silence. She had hoped that they’d made their peace last night but when she’d awoken this morning, it was clear that there was still some awkwardness lingering between them… perhaps at the knowledge that the subject of their argument would be sharing a wall with them tonight.

He hadn’t left her alone for even a second since they’d walked into the house to find Azriel already there, a dish towel slung over his shoulder as he chopped onions for whatever it was Nesta had on the menu for the evening. Even when she went to greet Azriel with a hug, deciding that it would be more suspicious if she greeted him any differently today, Graysen’s fingers had stayed on her back.

She remained patient with him, pushing aside the anxiety she felt at his constant proximity. She did her best to reassure him any way she could that he had nothing to worry about, all the while hoping that maybe she could convince herself of the very same thing in the process.

There had been no ducking out of his arms or dodging his kisses tonight. There had only been soft smiles and reassuring touches at all the right moments. Still, she couldn’t help that as she stood around the kitchen counter with her family - her attention had shifted, catching the subtle flex of Azriel’s forearms as he leant forward, his hands wrapping around the lip of the counter as he spoke to Cassian.

It was the smallest movement, barely noticeable, yet it triggered something in her brain that thrust her straight back into the memory that she’d tried and failed to avoid for the past few months.

Suddenly, she couldn’t concentrate on anything else, unable to tear her eyes away from the familiar ridges and veins of his hands. The heat of Graysen’s palm flat against the middle of her back faded into nothing as she remembered the taste of cinnamon and cream. Remembered the way she had once been perched on a counter so similar to the one they were currently standing around. The easy way Azriel had slotted himself between her knees, her dress rising up her thighs. The feeling of his fingers dragging up her legs until they slipped under her hem. The gentleness with which he’d touched her. She swore she could feel his breath against her neck. Swore she could hear the things he’d whispered into her ear that night.

“Helloooo… Earth to Elain!” Feyre’s voice brought her back to reality, her sister’s hand waving in front of her face as Elain’s vision cleared and she attempted to remember where the hell she was and what she was doing. “I asked if you wanted another drink?”

Elain could only nod, afraid of how her voice might betray her if she attempted to speak. It didn’t help that she was all too aware of the way Graysen watched her, blue eyes once again filled with the suspicion she’d been working so hard to keep at bay as he tracked her gaze to the pair of hazel eyes that were now staring directly back at her from the other side of the counter.

She readily accepted the margarita Feyre handed her, not wasting any time before downing half of it in one go. She’d never needed a drink more in her entire life.

…

Azriel stood directly outside the kitchen. He hadn’t turned any lights on when he’d wandered out a little while ago so it was just him, the stars, and the tiny smoldering ember of amber light flickering at the end of the lit cigarette slotted in between his index and middle finger.

He was utterly exhausted, eyes bleary as he tried and failed to link the stars together to form a constellation. He’d tried to fall asleep but he was too distracted by racing thoughts of the way Elain had looked at him from across the kitchen counter. The fleeting want that had appeared in her eyes - there and gone in a second, a lingering blush on her cheeks the only evidence that he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. He told himself it was just the margarita in her hands that had caused the sudden rush of heat to her cheeks but he knew her better than that. He knew all her tells.

That’s why it had hurt even more to see her disappear down the hallway and into her room, her piece-of-shit boyfriend in tow. Azriel didn’t know how long he’d lasted laying in bed before he’d gotten back up and stumbled outside, too paranoid about each and every noise that he could hear from the room that shared a wall with the one he stayed in each time he found himself crashing at Nesta and Cassian’s for the night.

If Graysen had been annoying at Nyx’s party yesterday, he’d been ever worse this evening because he’d scaled up the charisma and had seemed hell bent on befriending Azriel only to then become increasingly quietly irritated when Azriel made it clear that he was completely disinterested in anything that even remotely hinted at any sort of camaraderie.

He’d also taken to being even clingier with Elain. Hadn’t given her even a second to breathe all night, trailing behind her every chance he got, pulling her back into his side any time she strayed more than a few inches away. Even stranger, Elain had seemed intent on appeasing him and had stayed faithfully by Graysen’s side the entire time. She hadn’t even disappeared for a moment alone with Feyre and Nesta to talk about whatever the hell those three talked about whenever they were left alone together. All Azriel knew was that it usually resulted in raised voices, either in the form of an argument or incomprehensible half sentences interrupted by high pitched giggles as they all spoke over each other.

Azriel saw Graysen’s overbearing behaviour for what it was - insecurity.

Insecurity that came with a front row seat to the realisation that his prized girlfriend had an entire life before him. Without him. That she had family and friends that cared about her.

Azriel had a feeling Elain’s life in Meadowview revolved heavily around Graysen. They probably spent time with his friends. Went to his favourite restaurants. Did his favourite activities. He wondered if she’d managed to retain any part of herself when she was halfway around the country, isolated in a bubble with Graysen, with no real escape other than her job.

Maybe it wasn’t fair to jump to conclusions, to assume that she hadn’t been able to maintain a sense of self. He hoped for the best, desperately wanted to be wrong, but he knew her too well to know that he most likely wasn’t far off.

He wanted to talk to her about it to try and decipher for himself exactly how she was doing but he hadn’t been able to get her alone - either because she’d been avoiding him or because of the five foot ten, blonde, walking trust fund who’d been glued to her hip for the past eight hours.

That’s why when the lamp in the kitchen switched on, the soft golden glow illuminating the window over the sink, it felt like a prayer was answered.

He didn’t know exactly how he knew that she’d been the source of that light or that she’d be the one to walk outside but he knew when he turned to look, she’d be there - hair gilded by the light behind her. It was something about the gentle way the storm door creaked open, the feather light footsteps against the wooden floorboards. Something about the even, familiar rhythm of her breath.

He’d managed to get in one last deep drag of his cigarette before she was standing beside him, close enough that her arm brushed his. She reached up, lazily taking the cigarette from his fingers. She studied it and for one singular moment, he wondered if she’d surprise them both and take it between her lips. But this was Elain and so all he could do was huff out an amused laugh as she frowned, letting the cigarette fall to the floor until she could snub it out with her slipper covered foot.

“Filthy habit,” Elain muttered.

It was only then that he really allowed himself to look at her. He was thankful for the little bit of light from the kitchen lamp as his eyes traveled from her feet and up her bare legs to the hint of lilac shorts that he could only see the ruffled hem of because they were largely covered by the sweatshirt that fell right down to the top of her thighs.

It was a Velaris University sweatshirt that at one point had been black but now resembled a faded gray and included a smattering of tiny holes around the stretched out collar. That sweatshirt had been missing from his closet for the better part of a decade. She’d had it in her possession for so long that Azriel wasn’t entirely sure that she would even remember who its original owner had been. It’s why he didn’t let himself read too much into her wearing that particular sweatshirt while sharing a bed with someone else.

His eyes continued their journey upwards, over those full lips and the perfect slope of her nose. All the way up to drowsy, brown eyes and the tousled hair that he hoped and prayed was just the result of a restless night’s sleep and not the other option that sprung to mind.

Her eyes were fixed on him, clearly drinking in the sight of him just like she’d done when he’d first walked into Nyx’s party.

There was a beat of silence between them, neither of them really knowing where to begin now that they were alone together.

“Hi.” Her voice was barely a squeak, nervous and high and he couldn’t stand it. Hated this awkwardness between them. Hated that she felt any level of unease around him.

“Trouble sleeping?” He raised an eyebrow, offering her a slow, sleepy smile that he hoped would work to put her at ease.

Satisfaction settled in his chest when he saw her shoulders relax a little, at least a fraction of the tension she held within her melting into the night.

He fought the urge to reach out and touch her, to place a hand on the back of her neck and slide his thumb around the knot he knew he’d find there. He resisted the temptation to tuck her hair behind her ear so he could see her face without it being half hidden in shadows.

“Yeah,” Elain nodded. “Couldn’t get the fan to work and I need…”

“The white noise,” Azriel finished for her, another wave of satisfaction flowing through him at the first upward tilt of her lips.

“What about you?” Elain asked, her gaze still focused straight ahead. “Trouble sleeping?”

“Something like that,” He replied, schooling his expression into one that would hopefully hide the real reason he was awake. “At least it worked in my favour this time.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means that I’ve been trying to get a minute alone with you for two days now.”

“Oh,” she bit her lip. “Well, yesterday was so busy with all the kids and then tonight has been a lot as well…•

“Yeah,” Azriel laughed, leaning into her just enough for his arm to press against hers. It was meant to be an innocent, playful touch yet it still managed to send a spark straight down his spine. “It was the kids that were keeping us from talking and definitely not because you’ve been actively avoiding me.”

“I didn't think it would be so obvious,” Elain groaned, glancing up at him from the corner of her eye. “I was hoping you wouldn't notice.”

“I notice everything about you, Lain.” He adjusted his stance slightly, pivoting at the waist so he was turned towards her. “Always have.”

There was another second of silence as she looked away from him, nervously running a hand through her hair. “You can’t say things like that.”

“It’s true, though.” He shrugged, choosing to move on with the conversation before she could ruminate on that any further.“How have you been?”

“Thought you noticed everything about me.” He could practically hear her smirk even through the sleepy rasp of her voice and he loved it. Appreciated the fleeting moment of playfulness. Of normalcy. “Shouldn’t you know the answer?”

“I want to hear it from you.”

“I’ve been good,” Elain still didn’t look at him. Her eyes were focused steadily, stubbornly ahead. “Meadowview is good. Work is good. Everything’s good.”

“Say good one more time and maybe I’ll believe you.” He hadn’t missed that she’d neglected to mention her boyfriend.

“Funny,” she rolled her eyes. “How have you been?”

“Fine,” he shrugged. Then, before he could stop himself he asked her one of the questions that had been haunting him since last night. “Why have you never told me you didn’t like when I called you ‘Lain?’”

Elain paused, her brows furrowing. She clearly hadn’t expected that question from him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Last night… Graysen said that you didn’t like it when he called you that. You said that you preferred to be called ‘El.’”

She ducked her head, the bridge of her nose wrinkling as she looked down at her feet. A surefire sign she was embarrassed by something. “I only like it when it’s coming from you.”

He bit back a smile, rocking back on his heels in an attempt to dull the sudden rush of emotion he felt at her admission.

“Thank god.” He pressed a hand to his chest in a show of relief. “I’ve been worried that I’ve been unknowingly pissing you off for the past ten years.”

Azriel chuckled, teeth dragging over his lower lip as she turned to look at him. She gave him a wry smile and a shake of her head and though he wanted to live in this moment forever, he couldn’t put it off any longer, there were far more pressing matters to discuss.

“Lain,” Azriel let out a breath, his smile slipping into something more serious. He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “If you’re upset or if I misread the situation that night, I’m sorry but just tell me so I can -”

“Azriel, we can’t.” She whispered, cutting him off before he could even get out everything he wanted and needed to say.

“What?”

“I can’t… we can’t talk about this.” Her voice was strained, her hands twisted in the cuffs of her sweater.

“We have to talk about it, Elain.” He insisted. “It’s been months of silence and we can’t keep going like this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she swallowed, shoulders once again tensing as she turned to face him.

“You can’t be serious,” Azriel couldn’t keep the exasperation out of his voice.

Even with such scarce lighting, he could see the blush that crept up her neck as she defensively crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Nothing happened. It’s fine.” Elain said, her voice low. “It was just sex. We got caught up in the moment and that’s all it was.”

“Just sex,” Azriel shook his head. “You wouldn’t have left and stopped talking to me if it was just fucking sex.”

He’d always prided himself on maintaining a mask of cool composure around other people but it always seemed to falter around Elain. He couldn’t hide from her. Had never felt the need to. This was no exception.

“I didn’t -”

“Don’t.” He interrupted her. “Whatever you’re about to say about not cutting me off or about things being fine between us, it’s absolute bullshit and you know it.”

“Azriel,” Her voice broke, splitting his name into two halves. “I shouldn’t have left and I know that and I’m sorry but I just can’t…”

“Do you regret it?”

“What?”

“Do you regret it?” He asked again, making a point to look directly at her. “Sleeping with me. Do you regret it?”

Azriel watched as she closed her eyes, one hand of hers coming up to clutch at her necklace as she took a deep breath. It felt like a lifetime before she finally spoke.

“I only regret it in the sense that I can’t stop thinking about it.” He could barely hear her over the crickets and the frogs and whatever other nocturnal creatures occupied the field around his friends’ home. “I only regret it because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t make sense of her saying exactly what he’d hoped but never dreamed that she’d go as far as admitting it. Suddenly, he didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. It was involuntary, really… the way he reached for her. One arm extending, his hand mere inches from her hip. The tips of his fingers just grazed her sweatshirt before she stepped back, just out of his reach.

“Az.” The pounding of his heart came to an abrupt stop in his chest as he watched her eyes fill with tears. “It happened and it was good and I promise you I don’t regret it but I can’t do this. We just can’t…”

“Just tell me why you left then, Lain.” He pleaded. “Full, complete honesty. I just want to know why you left without saying anything. I thought - everything was fine when I fell asleep.”

“It doesn’t matter now, Az.” She wiped away a stray tear. “What’s it going to solve? What’s done is done.”

“It does. I need to know. I need to understand.”

“I don’t know why. I wish I did but I don’t...” she started. “I panicked and then I realised how awful I’d been for leaving like that and I thought you’d be upset.” She took another deep, wavering breath. “I thought you hated me.”

Her voice was once again so small, so timid. It shattered every part of him.

“Elain,” Azriel reached up and tugged at his hair just so he had something to do with his hands. Too afraid that he’d reach for her again. “If I were capable of hating you, this would all be a whole lot easier.”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, tears falling faster now. “I’m so sorry that it’s like this between us but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this.”

“I just want my friend back, Lain.” He said gently. “I’m not asking for anything more than to have you back in my life as my friend. I miss you so fucking much and if the only thing that’s stopping you from talking to me is what happened between us that night then we can forget it. If that’s what it takes, we can agree to pretend it never happened.”

“It’s not that easy. You know it. I know it. It’s been months and I can’t forget it.” She shook her head. “It’s just easier this way, Az. You and me… we just can’t be friends the way we were. Not right now at least.”

“You don’t mean that, Elain.” His nails dug into the palms of his hands. “I know that’s not what you want. Look me in the eye and tell me you mean it.”

He waited for her to seal their fate. To look him in the eye and tell him that she’d meant every word. That she really wanted nothing more to do with him. But she didn’t look him in the eye. Didn’t really look at him at all. She only stepped further back, her gaze fixed on some arbitrary spot above his right shoulder.

“I miss you, Azriel. More than you know.” Her voice broke as she began to turn away from him, walking towards the door.

“Wait,” he followed behind her, his fingers closing around her wrist to stop her from reaching for the handle of the screen door.

She didn’t pull away from him this time. Didn’t try to step back. She just twisted around to face him fully, her pulse rapid under his touch.

“Do whatever you need to do.” The words left him in a rush. “ Go home, think about things. I can handle you being with someone else, I’ve done it for a decade… but please…. please don’t stay with someone that doesn’t make you happy just to prove a point to yourself or to me or to anyone else.”

There was another stretch of silence to accompany the crease that formed in between her eyebrows as she mulled over his words.

“Goodnight, Az.” She stepped forward, her chest against his. He released his grasp on her wrist just in time to wrap his arms around her waist as she reached up on her toes and slung her arms loosely around his neck. Every part of her pressed against him for a split second. It was over before it began but he felt the cool, dampness of her tears against his cheek as her lips brushed his skin just once before she pulled back from the hug.

He let her go, his fingers slipping slowly from her skin. “Goodnight, Lain.”

Elain disappeared inside the house and the kitchen light flickered off a few seconds later. Azriel turned back around, sitting down on the porch step after pulling a stray cigarette and lighter out of his back pocket. He closed his eyes and counted to sixty. When he opened his eyes again, he was right back to what he’d been doing fifteen minutes ago, before she’d come outside.

Once again, it was just him, the stars,and the dim light from the lit end of his cigarette. He didn’t know how long he stayed out there going over what just happened but he was still there, staring up at the sky and rehashing answers to questions he couldn’t decide if he regretted asking when the sun began to rise.

#elriel fic #everywhere everything #my writing #elain x azriel #elain archeron #elriel #modern au #azriel #acotar fanfiction #elriel fanfic #as always posting this and running off to bed bc im nervy hehe #it's 1:45 am and i have work in the morning why do i do this

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scuttling · 3 years

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Paper Rings

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 10,191 Tags: SFW, Fluff, Literature, Friends to lovers, Everyone thinks they're dating, There was only one bed, Some angst with a happy ending, Confessing love in the rain, TW fire and blood/wound Summary: Some of my favorite tropes rolled into one cute fic inspired by Taylor Swift's Paper Rings. (lyrics and music) Link to A03 or read below! “Good morning, my friendly neighborhood crime fighters,” Penelope says as she enters the briefing room, wearing a dress that is bright bubblegum pink, with fingerless gloves and glasses to match. You, Derek, and Spencer groan your replies, because you just got home from a case last night, with less than seven hours between arriving at your apartment and returning to the office, and that is everyone’s least favorite thing.

You can’t deny that her typical sunny disposition makes you smile a little bit brighter, but you’re still exhausted, and even your usual extra large travel mug of breakfast blend is barely taking the edge off.

That’s probably why, when Aaron enters with trays of steaming espresso drinks from the cafe down the street, and a striped box of donuts, you act like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Oh my god, I love you. Thank you, I love you.” He got an array of basic drinks based on everyone’s usual orders, and you scan for one that has something with latte, but he takes one out and hands it to you, smiling when you take a sip and sigh—okay, he’s smiling with his eyes, but you are well versed in his body language and facial expressions, and he’s practically grinning at getting your order (triple one pump hazelnut extra hot latte) correct.

You are not the only one to notice.

“Get a room, you two; it’s just coffee,” Derek says, taking the white mocha from the tray and drinking half of it in one sip. “Now if you tell me there’s a bear claw in there, I’ll confess my undying love too.”

“I don’t know; I asked for an assortment,” he says, and it’s clear he did, but your cup has your name on it; you cover the ink with your hand and take another grateful sip. “I do know there’s a plain glazed in there, though,” he says a bit lower, just for you, and you smile, give his wrist a squeeze, and dive for it before Jennifer Jareau can get her hands on it.

That’s all the morning meeting consists of—bickering and bantering and caffeine and carb consumption—and when the group disperses, you follow Aaron to his office and sit down in the chair across from his.

“Thanks again for breakfast. You definitely raised the morale of the troops,” you say with a sip of your perfect latte, and he shares the hint of a smile.

“You’re welcome. It helps that you’re all so easy to appease.” He flips open his bag, pulls out a small, worn, paperback book, tosses it toward you. You pick it up, run your hand over the well-loved cover, and hum.

“The Call of the Wild—this made it into the Aaron Hotchner Nightstand Collection?” He arches a brow.

“It’s so overrated that it’s underrated; no one ever actually reads it, they just assume they know what it’s about. It’s a great book, if you’ll give it a chance.”

“Hey, you’ve read all of mine without complaint; of course I’ll give it a chance.” You take the last, sad sip of your latte and stand up, point out the door with your thumb. “Speaking of, mine’s still downstairs on my desk. I’ll be right back.”

Exchanging books started as an offhand comment one night, on a flight home from Georgia, when he’d mentioned that he never buys new books, only cycles through the same ten or twelve he’s been reading since college. He knows what he likes, finds something different in the text each time he reads, and you’d found something so profoundly beautiful about that that you’d asked for the list. You wanted to know more about the books that tug at his emotions enough that he’s read them day in and day out for over twenty years with no boredom in sight.

He’d done you one better, said he’d be happy to lend them to you, if you’d like, and that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Seeing college-aged Aaron’s notes in the margins of battered paperback novels was a prospect too good to be true.

Of course, you couldn’t accept the gesture without returning one of your own, so you’d offered to share your favorite books with him too, only... you don’t exactly give him your favorite books. You purposefully buy the cheesiest romance novels you can get your hands on, pass them off to him while he hands you poignant, classic novels that have won literary awards and Nobel prizes.

Today’s is called Lord of Scoundrels, complete with a shirtless man on the cover, kissing a woman with dark, flowing hair and a light blue dress; you snicker the whole way to your desk and back up to his office—earning curious glances from the rest of the team—and when you drop it on the desk in front of Aaron, you watch closely for a reaction.

As usual, he doesn’t really give you one, just flips the book over, skims the summary on the back, and nods.

“Sounds interesting,” he says, and your heart does a little flip.

He could easily hand the book back, laugh in your face, refuse to read something so clearly out of his wheelhouse, but he thinks these novels are important to you, and he never fails to read them, offering his favorite parts the same way you do for his.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t.

“I think you’ll really like it. Sebastian and Jessica start out kind of indifferent toward each other, but the more they interact, the more they find they have in common. It’s very acquaintances to friends to lovers, if you’re into that.” He looks up with an expression you place as uncertainty, even if you’re not quite sure the reason for it. You smile softly. “I should get to work, but thanks for the book. I’ll see you at lunch?”

It’s been so nice lately that you started taking your lunch outside, sitting on a bench beneath a huge, shady oak tree, and Aaron had taken to doing the same; you both quickly realized it was stupid to sit outside together, apart, so you meet up in the bullpen now and walk out side by side, spend the hour talking about your books or the team or Jack or life in general. He shakes the uncertain expression, nods his head.

“Of course. Thank you,” he says with a wave of the book, and you head back downstairs to start your day.

You’ve become mostly accustomed to the feeling, but it still surprises you a little when all that gets you through the day is thinking about your next conversation with Aaron. A week later, you’re on a case in Pittsburgh, and you and Aaron are paired up to room together. That’s nothing unusual—it seems like you’ve been rooming together more often than not lately, which is fine by you; he’s tidy, quiet, always interested in a late night snack, pretty much the perfect roommate—but when he opens the door and you step inside, the single king size bed in the middle of the room takes you by surprise.

“Uh… do you think it’s a mistake? Or maybe they just ran out of doubles?” you suggest; he's kind of frozen in place, and while it’s not ideal, you know it’s not actually going to be a problem. You’ve shared a bed with JJ before, and Spencer, and even though you don’t feel the same way about them as you do about Aaron, you think you can manage a couple nights in close quarters.

“Probably just ran out of doubles,” he agrees after a moment; he doesn’t bring up calling the front desk to ask for another room, so you don’t either, just hang your clothes and head into the bathroom to change into your pajamas and do your nightly routine.

It’s a little awkward at first, and you don’t know why; over the last six months or so, he’s actually become your closest friend on the team, and conversation usually comes easily, but silence settles over the room uncomfortably as you slip between the sheets on your side of the bed.

He goes into the bathroom, does his own nightly routine, then comes out in his pajamas and turns on CNN.

You take out your book, pay no attention to Aaron, but the longer he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the news ticker on the television screen but not actually watching it, the more you wish he’d just get over himself and come to bed. If he’s trying to wait for you to fall asleep, he’s going to be waiting a while.

“So you were right; I love Buck,” you say as a way to start some conversation, to bring some normalcy to this unusual situation. You hold up the book you’re reading, the one he let you borrow. “His struggle between remaining loyal to his owner and answering the call of the wild—I love dogs, but I never imagined a book about a dog could be so moving.”

He turns back with a soft smile, then switches off the tv and heads over to his side of the bed; he pulls back the comforter, slides between the sheets, meets you toward the middle of the bed.

“I told you you’d like it; what chapter are you on?” He leans over to look, so close it wouldn’t take much to lift a hand and brush it over his hair; it looks unfairly soft, and part of you wants to card your fingers through it, to tug on it and mess it up a little. He probably wouldn’t even mind if you did.

“Chapter 7—I only have a few pages left.” You snuggle more comfortably against your pillow, lean into his shoulder, and move the book so it’s more evenly between you. “Want to finish it with me?”

He does, and you read silently at a similar pace; he reaches up to turn the pages, and you think about how these hands have flipped through this book so many times before, what he might have been thinking, feeling, while reading. It’s a more intimate act than you’ve shared with anyone in a really long time.

When you finish the book, you sigh, let the feeling of reading a really great story envelope you; you turn to face Aaron, and he’s looking at you… and then there’s a knock at the door that startles you both.

He gets up, walks over and checks the peep hole, then opens the door.

“Are you sure?” you hear JJ ask, and he steps back so she can enter the room; when she sees you tucked snugly into the middle of the bed, she shoots you a soft smile and mouths you’re welcome, which makes absolutely no sense without context. You’ll have to bring it up to her later and ask what exactly you’re supposed to be thanking her for.

“So you said the detective called?” Aaron prompts her, and she looks away from you, nods.

“Yes, he wanted me to ask if we could have a few agents meet him at the second crime scene tomorrow instead of the precinct, figured it could save a little time.” Aaron looks confused, like he doesn’t see why this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow, but he ultimately agrees.

“Sure. You, Reid, and Prentiss can head straight there, if that’s what he wants. I’ll let them know in the morning.” JJ nods, and looks over at you, and then back at Aaron, who makes a kind but curious face. “Was there something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s it. I just didn’t want to forget. I’ll let you guys go—enjoy the rest of your night,” she says with a smile and a wave, and when he closes the door behind her, you both exchange a look.

She’s definitely acting a little weird, but it’s late, so you give her the benefit of the doubt.

You scoot over to your side, put the book on the nightstand and switch off your lamp; Aaron climbs back into bed and switches his off, too, and he turns to face the wall while you lay on your back and stare at the ceiling.

It takes about half an hour, but he falls asleep first; you turn to face him, watching his back, following the rise and fall as he softly breathes in sleep, and the peaceful rhythm lulls you into submission, and you drift off as well.

When you wake up a couple hours later, he is on his stomach with his face pressed into his pillow, and you are draped over his back with your cheek against his t-shirt. It’s soft, and warm, and smells like him, and you glance at the clock and realize it’s too early to do anything but get comfortable and fall back asleep, so that’s exactly what you do.

The next time you wake up, to light creeping in between the curtains, Aaron is no longer in bed, but you’re holding his pillow, still warm beneath your cheek. He doesn’t act weird when you get up and start moving around, just pops out of the bathroom with his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“Got you a latte,” he says around it, gesturing to the desk and the pair of paper cups that sit on it, and you grin.

“Seriously, you’re my favorite human,” you answer, and you grab your coffee and lean against the doorframe, sipping and sighing until you’re a little more clear-headed. “Sorry if I crushed you; guess I was restless last night. I usually don’t move around that much.”

He just shrugs, spits out a mouthful of foam into the sink.

“You didn’t crush me. I’m pretty solid, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” you tease, looking at him over the lid as you take another sip. “Now hurry up and quit hogging the bathroom if you want to leave here at a decent hour.” He rinses, zips up his toiletry bag noisily for dramatic effect, and slips past you, rubbing a hand over your unruly bed head as he goes. The day passes quickly, with lots of interviewing witnesses, following dead-end leads, and bad police station coffee. When Aaron calls it and tells everyone to get some dinner, you all split off into smaller groups—Spencer and Derek go for Chinese, JJ and Emily opt for pizza, and you and Aaron end up at a retro diner with burgers and milkshakes and a plate of fries between you to share.

“I think we should be focusing more on the docks,” you say, dipping a fry in ketchup and taking a bite. “Even if that’s not where the bodies end up, it seems to be where the unsub is meeting with the victims. We could stake it out tonight, maybe. If you want.” You never want to step on his toes, because he is the boss, the leader, even if you’re friends too; you try to be careful how you phrase things, especially in front of other people, because you don’t want your comfort to look like disrespect, however unintentional.

“That’s a good idea. You and I can head down there after this; I’ll let the others know to patrol nearby, in case we need backup.”

He dusts off his fingers and pulls out his phone, types out a text, and you look around the restaurant—the place looks like it was ripped right out of the 50s, with a checkered floor and lots of red vinyl, a shiny jukebox in the corner. Out of place is a flatscreen tv behind the counter; during the day, when it’s busier, it might play news or sports, but you two are the only ones here at the moment, so the staff is hanging out beneath it watching a movie. It’s Titanic, you realize, when the iconic ‘Rose floating on a piece of debris’ scene plays, and you snort, take a long drag of your chocolate shake.

“I always hated this part. They could have found a way for him to survive, too. Unnecessary death for the heartache factor,” you say, and Aaron looks up from his phone to the screen, makes a sound of contemplation.

“I always thought it was kind of romantic. When you love someone, you’d do anything for them to be okay, even at your own expense. Even if it’s stupid.” You look over his face, study the features you know like the back of your hand, and you guess you can kind of see that, but you can’t say that, so you just sigh.

“I suppose you think Romeo and Juliet is romantic, too,” you tease, and he looks back at you, rolls his eyes.

“It’s very much of its time; it's a lot harder to suffer a miscommunication like that these days. And there is something to be said for star-crossed lovers—people who shouldn’t be together, for one reason or another, but can’t help but drift close anyway.” You swirl your straw in the metal cup, thinking briefly of how that happens to describe the two of you, and when you look up at him, you think you see a hint of that same thought on his face.

More likely, that’s just wishful thinking.

“I like the sword-fights,” you say to lighten the mood, and he laughs, and you both polish off the rest of your food and then head for the docks.

Two hours in and absolutely nothing has happened, but just when you’re ready to complain, or suggest playing I Spy or something, there’s movement from one of the shipping containers to your right. You nudge Aaron, point to the container, and you both creep closer, trying to make out the situation.

When you’re just around the corner, it’s clearly two men fighting, but you obviously don’t know if this is your unsub, two random guys having it out on the docks, or what, so you mutually agree to wait until you have some kind of sign that this is your guy. When one of them pulls out a hunting knife that looks vaguely similar to your murder weapon—as close as you can tell in the dark, anyway—you raise your guns and identify yourselves as FBI.

The unsub drops the knife, but fists his hands in the other guy’s jacket, manhandles him to the edge of the dock, and shoves him into the water, then jumps as well. You swear, and Aaron takes off his jacket, throws it on the ground, then his phone on top of it, and looks back at you.

“Stay here and call for backup,” he instructs, and then he jumps in too; you call the team from your comms, get a response from Emily, and then toss your phone onto Aaron’s jacket and follow him.

He, of course, went for the victim first, so you look for the unsub, who is not visible above the water. You completely submerge yourself, feeling for more than looking for him, because the water is cloudy on a good day and pitch black at ten o’clock at night; when you pop your head up for air, you see Aaron getting the victim up onto the dock, and the unsub bobbing a bit further out. You swim to him, limbs aching, and he seems to know it’s time to give up.

He’s winded, gasping for breath, so you keep him above the water to your own detriment, dragging him by his wet jacket instead of cuffing him, because you’re not trying to kill the guy or lug his unconscious body back to shore. You just barely keep your own head above water most of the time, coming up for big gulps of air when absolutely necessary.

You finally make it to the dock, and your team has arrived, so Derek pulls him out of the water, makes sure he’s alright, and puts some cuffs on him. Aaron’s hands are on you right after, getting you up on the dock, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

Despite the warm spring breeze, the water was freezing, and you can feel your teeth chattering. He rubs your arms for warmth, crouches down to look you seriously in the eyes.

“Thought I told you to stay here,” he says with an arched brow, a scowl you can tell is more concerned than angry. You wet your frozen lips and try your best to smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack.”

He looks at you like you’re an idiot, but fondly, if that’s possible, then hugs you so tightly, guides your face to press against his warm neck. How he’s not teetering on the edge of hypothermia is anyone’s guess.

“Your lips are practically blue. Stupid,” he murmurs, but his mouth dusts over your temple in what is unmistakably a kiss, and when you’re able to feel your lips again, you reciprocate, press them a little harder against his throat while you shiver in his arms.

It doesn’t mean anything except I’m happy we’re both alive. Probably.

That night in bed, he faces the wall, and you stare at the ceiling, but you wake up with your nose against the back of his neck. The way he’s breathing tells you he’s not asleep, and when you wrap your arms around him, he holds them tight. Things don’t change after Pittsburgh, and that’s okay. You are comfortable with the way things are, and you love what you have—lunches under the oak tree, the exchange of books, late night texts when you both can’t sleep, hands brushing when you walk to the parking garage, glances shared across the jet. All those things make it easy not to focus on what you don’t have, what you’re not even sure Aaron would want anyway.

You exchange books again on Friday at lunch: he hands you Beloved by Toni Morrison, a book you already know and adore, and you hand him Ravished by Amanda Quick.

“Dubbed the Beast of Blackthorne Hall for his scarred face and lecherous past, Gideon,” Aaron shoots you a glance—“that’s purely coincidental”—“was strong and fierce and notoriously menacing. Yet Harriet could not find it in her heart to fear him. For in his tawny gaze she sensed a savage pain she longed to soothe... and a searing passion she yearned to answer.”

You hold back a smile.

“It’s a modern retelling of a classic story—Beauty and the Beast,” you add, taking a bite of your sandwich. He looks you over like there’s something he wants to say, but he just tucks it under his arm and steals a piece of melon from your lunch.

“I have Jack this weekend, so I probably won’t get to read much, but it sounds intriguing.”

“Well I hope you like it when you read it. Tell him I said hi; it’s been too long since I saw him. I bet he’s looking more like you every day,” you say, popping a piece of melon into your mouth. He smiles softly.

“A little, but Haley says she sees her father in him, and I have to agree. We may have to wait a few years until he looks like me; he’s too cute for that now.” He doesn’t sound self-deprecating, just fond, but you can’t let a comment like that stand, regardless.

“You’re cute; the difference is that kids are cute all the time. You’re an adult, so sometimes you’re handsome, sometimes you’re cute, sometimes you’re hot… it can be hard to reconcile.” This time, he looks you over with something light and playful in his eyes, and it’s something you want to explore, but the timer on your phone goes off, indicating that lunch is over, so you just exhale softly and pack up your things.

You don’t talk much after that—his Fridays are usually busy with meetings, and he leaves in a hurry to pick up Jack, which is understandable.

Emily, JJ, and Penelope invite you out for drinks and dinner—“because we know Hotch is busy,” Penelope says, which has literally nothing to do with your weekend plans, but you don’t correct them—so you don’t linger either.

You go out for Italian, so you are sleepy and full of wine and pasta by the end of the evening, and you smile at your friends.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight, guys. I had a really good time.”

“Of course,” Emily says, taking her last sip of Pinot Noir. “We barely see you anymore; it was long overdue.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “I should really try to drag my ass out of bed more often.” You can’t help it, though, that after a long day, your bed and a good book just call your name. You’ve always been introverted in that way. JJ laughs softly, chin in her palm, elbow on the table.

“Honeymoon phase. Give it another couple months and you’ll be past that.” You do have a new memory foam mattress that has made sinking into the pillows and blankets all that more indulgent, but you didn’t think JJ knew about that. And you’ve never heard of a honeymoon phase for a mattress before.

“Eh, I don’t think so. There’s literally nothing more satisfying on this earth.” The three of them exchange an amused look, but your phone vibrates, and that catches your attention; you smile when it’s Aaron, sending you a photo of Jack with a toothy grin and his hands covered in fingerpaint. You look up to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.

“Alright, we’ve lost her. See you all Monday,” Emily says, pulling you in for a hug; when she steps back, she smiles. “And tell Hotch we said hi.”

“I will,” you promise as you hug the other two. You hang back a moment, type out a reply—Looks like you’re having lots of fun without me!—and get into your car to head home.

You change into comfy clothes, drink a glass of water, and climb into bed with Beloved, and at around 9:30 you receive a reply.

Having the most fun we can without you. Maybe next time Jack is over, we can tempt you with dinosaur chicken nuggets and fingerpaint?

You smile, the happiest you’ve been all night—and that’s saying something, because you really did have a great time—and send back, It’s a date. Come Monday, you’re feeling pretty good, well-rested and relaxed from probably too much time in bed, but Aaron looks upset when he walks into the morning meeting. He keeps it short and sweet, and everyone disperses quickly, giving you sympathetic looks as you hang back to try to have a word with him. He clears off the white board, tidies up the table that doesn’t need tidying, and you place a hand on his back, gentle and comforting. He sighs, and you can feel the tension leave him almost instantly.

“Hey. What’s bothering you?” you ask softly, leaning around to try to catch his expression; he looks tired, sad, and maybe a little conflicted, leans into your touch.

“Taking Jack back to Haley’s was rough last night; it always is, but yesterday was really bad.” You know a little about this from weekends past, how Jack always cries when Aaron has to leave, how he feels terrible about it for the rest of the evening, but it must have been extreme for him to still be so upset. “And Haley…” He sighs again, runs his hand through his hair. “It’s like it’s one step forward, two steps back with her sometimes.”

“Why don’t we go sit in your office and you can tell me more?” You want to continue discussing this—that’s what friends are for, and he’s clearly in a bad state emotionally, you think it could help—but he just shakes his head.

“No, I… it’s okay. I don’t want to weigh you down with my problems.” You take your hand off his back, lean a hip against the table and look up at him.

“I’m not just your friend when it’s all easy breezy, lunch in the sunshine, talking about our favorite books,” you say with a sad smile; he reciprocates a little, which is more than you expected. “I’m here when things are complicated, when you have bad days, too. The Monday blues especially.” One of his hands rests on the table, and you cover it with yours, lean in to press your forehead to his shoulder. “Let me be here, okay? Even if all you need me to do is listen.”

It takes a moment, and his eyes are wet when he finally responds; he inhales deeply, nods, and brushes his free hand over your head in something of a hug, murmurs a rough, “okay.”

You sit in his office for an hour—which, again, is more than you expected—listening to him talk about his weekend with Jack, how heartbreaking it was to take him back to Haley’s, how he tried talking to her about taking him more often and she just wasn’t sure she could trust him to do what he says he’ll do. He understands where she’s coming from, knows he’s been unable to keep his word in the past, thinks he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt; he hasn’t asked for advice, seems to just want to vent, so you just listen.

“Then I mentioned you, that you might come for dinner next time he’s over, and she was worried about that,” he says, exasperated, and you frown.

“Why would she worry about that? I’ve been around him lots of times.” It doesn't make sense, because Haley has always been nothing but sweet to you; Aaron looks up at your question, and it seems a little like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that part, though you can’t imagine why.

“It’s just different now… because he’s older,” he says after a brief moment of hesitation. “She doesn’t want him getting attached to someone who might not always be around, you know.” You sigh softly, because if that’s all it is…

You lean forward, take his hand, squeeze it tight.

“I’m always going to be around, Aaron. I can talk to her, if you want, tell her that.”

“No, it’s—you don’t have to do that.” He squeezes your hand back, closes his eyes for a beat. “Just hearing you say it, it makes things easier. I’ll talk to her again next time.”

You talk a little more, and he seems a lot better afterward, even if he is a bit less expressive during lunch; you figure any progress is good, but it makes you sad to see him so down, so naturally, you formulate a plan to help get him back to the Aaron you know and love.

At the end of the day, when he makes his way to the bullpen, you spin around in your chair, take him by the sleeve.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” you say in no uncertain tone of voice. “For a few hours. I’ll bring you back for your car.” He agrees with a fond look, and you lose yourself in the expression for a moment, then stand up, grab your things, and walk with him out to the garage.

Rush hour traffic is what it is, and you leave Aaron in charge of the music, which means you get The Beatles and The Who, Rolling Stones and Neil Diamond, and you’re both singing along and so much happier by the time you pull into the parking lot of the bodega nearest your apartment.

“Just running in for provisions—be right back,” you say with a grin, and when you return with two paper bags of loot, he looks at you like you might be his favorite person in the world with an age in the double digits. It’s a look you love putting on his face.

“Do I get to see what provisions you’ve acquired?” he asks, teasing, but you shake your head and tell him he’ll see it when you get there.

With a pit stop in your apartment to grab a blanket and a few throw pillows, you take him up to the roof and get things ready for your makeshift picnic. There is white wine, still mostly chilled; cubed cheese, far from gourmet but no less delicious; crusty french bread that was fresh this morning but at this hour is a little extra crusty; blueberries, because they didn’t have grapes; dark chocolate, because you share a fondness for it; and paper cups for the wine.

Aaron takes a look at your bounty, spread over the blanket, and smiles the first real smile you’ve seen all day.

“Fancy,” he teases, and he takes off his jacket, gets on the ground with you. You pour each of you some wine, pop a blueberry in your mouth.

“No, but I thought a meal—and I do call it that loosely—under the stars might do you some good.” You lift your paper cup and tap it against his, brush your fingers over his hand. “To the best boss, best dad, best friend I could ask for.” You take a sip, but he doesn’t at first, watches you with something simmering behind his eyes.

“Do I get to make a toast?” he asks after a few beats, and you smile, nod, and hold up your cup. “To the only person stupid enough to jump into a freezing cold river after me. To the only person I would consider eating a bodega dinner with. To the only person who sees me the way you do.” You both take a sip, which is hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. He looks into your eyes, then breaks the dark chocolate into slivers and hands you a piece like he didn’t just say the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you before.

You eat, and talk, and drink, and when you’re done with dinner you put everything back in the bags and lay back on the blanket, side by side, and stare up at the stars. The moon is high and full, shining while the stars twinkle around it, and you can’t think of a single time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“This was really perfect,” Aaron says, almost a whisper, after about twenty minutes of companionable silence. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for me today.” You turn to face him, hands curled up under your chin, and he turns toward you as well. He’s so handsome in the moonlight your heart almost aches.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to see you happy.” You feel your eyes well up with tears, because he deserves to be happy; you sigh, blink them away, and he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, rests them there for a long time. When he eventually pulls back, you bring a hand to his hair, brush it back at his temple, and then the creaking of the door makes you pull back, sit up.

It’s your neighbor from 422, who you’ve seen on the roof a handful of times, sneaking away from his wife to smoke a cigarette. He squints in the dark, recognizes you, and waves.

“Hey, 418! You’re not alone tonight.” Aaron sits up too, and you laugh softly.

“Nope, but we were just leaving. The roof is all yours.” Aaron stands, pulls you up, and you grab the blanket and pillows while he grabs the bags, and the two of you head back down to your place.

It’s after ten when you get the groceries put away, and you stand next to Aaron in your small kitchen, contemplating what you want to say next. Your mouth betrays your brain, says what you’ve been thinking but weren’t quite sure how to approach.

“It’s late; I know I said I’d take you back to your car, but you could stay here if you want. I have a spare toothbrush, and I know you have a spare suit at the office, and it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed before.”

You’d completely understand if he’d rather go home—you hate when your plans are changed at the last minute, and you prefer to do your full nightly routine for your sanity’s sake—but he only nods, and you lead your way to the bedroom, show him the master bath.

You are in your pajamas, tucked into bed, when he comes out in his boxers and undershirt; he hangs up his suit in your closet where you’d left him some space, then climbs in beside you. He looks over at you, then past you, at your nightstand, which has a stack of books on it—none of them romance novels. You grin, busted after months of book exchanges, and he leans over you to look at the titles.

“Persuasion, To Kill A Mockingbird, One Hundred Years of Solitude—Beloved.” He looks from your copy of the novel to his, which you hold in your hands, and you shrug sheepishly.

“I like reading the notes you put in the margins,” you say meekly, hoping he’s not angry, but all he does is laugh.

“Let me guess: you don’t actually like romance novels.” He leans back against your pillow, and so do you, resting the book on your lap.

“I mean, I don’t not like them… but I’ve been buying those just for you.” The smile on his face is brilliant, and only makes you yearn for him more; things you have been purposefully not feeling are flooding your heart and mind and body now, with him so close, laughing over this stupid secret you’ve been hiding for so long. “And you, sweet man that you are, have been reading them, and discussing them.” You put your hand on his shoulder, and he ducks his head to laugh again.

“Since we’re being honest… I didn’t read all of them. I tried,” he says when you act offended, shoving the shoulder you’re resting against, “but some of them were so bad. I just flipped through, found something I thought could pass as my favorite part, and hoped to hell you didn't ask too many questions.”

You both laugh until you’re breathless—he is so different from how he was this morning it makes you want to cry—and when your laughter dies down you look at each other, sharing breath, two heads on one pillow; is it any wonder you bridge the distance, pull him close for a warm, gentle kiss?

When you break the kiss, you are instantly worried about what Aaron will do—you aren’t drunk, aren’t even tipsy, so you know he can’t be, so much bigger and more solid than you, but will he think it’s a mistake? He kissed back, you’re pretty sure, but maybe that was an accident, something done on autopilot—

He leans in for a second kiss, mouth deceptively soft, and you curl your arm around his back, press into it with lips desperate not to let this end now that it’s started. When you separate, you are both looking into each other’s eyes again, breathing a bit heavily, and you meet in the middle for a third kiss, the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life.

That kiss ends when you yawn in his face, and he chuckles softly, leans over and switches off your bedside lamp; you smile at the ceiling, and he wraps his arms around you, presses his lips to your shoulder, and tells you good night. The next day, the two of you arrive at work early so he can shower and change into his fresh clothes without anyone on the team noticing—not that you think they would really care, but they’re nosy, and a little annoying, so you both agree that’s probably for the best.

You don’t talk about the kisses, even though they’ve been the only thing running through your mind since they happened; you promise to discuss it at lunch, though, and that’s such a sweet, romantic prospect that you think you prefer it better that way anyway.

Only, you don’t ever get to lunch, because there’s an urgent case in Minneapolis, an all hands on deck situation, meaning even Penelope joins you on the jet. You debrief on the flight, hunker down in the conference room, and split up to cover more ground; you barely get to speak to Aaron the whole time you’re there except to be given instructions and to fill him on what, if anything, you’ve learned.

You don’t even make it to your hotel that night, working around the clock to catch the people responsible for terrorizing the city. It takes not one, but almost two full days, and when you board the jet on Wednesday evening, everyone is dead on their feet. You barely remember the flight or the trip home, and you fall onto your bed fully clothed and crash just like that.

Thursday is your birthday, which you almost forgot, and so you assumed everyone else would too. You should have known better, because even if your team can be annoying, they are still your friends, and they love you, so you are well and truly spoiled.

You are treated to a latte and bagels from Emily, purple cupcakes with silver sprinkles from Penelope, a piggy back ride from Derek, a book of poetry you’ve had your eye on from Spencer, and a card from JJ—really, it turns out, from all of them.

“Enjoy a romantic getaway on us?” There’s some kind of certificate in the card, and when you flip it over, you discover that it’s for a hotel and spa that offers couples massages, mud baths, intimate aromatherapy? You arch a brow. “Uh, thanks, guys. Are you trying to tell me something here?” JJ’s face falls a little and she points to the card.

“It’s a romantic getaway. For you and Hotch? Since things have been so hectic lately,” she says, but your ears are kind of ringing and your brain is stuck on the for you and Hotch part.

“Oh. Um. Sorry—it’s just kind of soon, I think? How do you guys even know about that?” you murmur. The two of you haven’t had time to discuss Monday yet, and you haven’t spoken a word to anyone; you wouldn’t have guessed Aaron would have either, but there is a gift certificate for a romantic getaway in your hands, and you’re kind of spiraling.

“Well come on, we haven’t exactly been pretending we don’t know,” Emily says, and you can feel the confusion in your features when you look up at her. “And you guys haven’t been exactly secretive. We’re happy for you, though.”

“I mean, we haven’t been secretive, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it yet. It’s only been three days.” You are met with looks similar to the one on your own face.

“What do you mean, three days?” Spencer asks with a frown. “You and Hotch have been dating for almost two months. Right?” he says, looking at the others, and they nod, but it’s tentative. Your first reaction is to flush, and you close the card, fan your face with it.

“You guys think… You guys thought…” You look at them, then up at Aaron’s office; there’s no way he can know that you’re having a moment, but he chooses then to come downstairs, coincidentally. He’s smiling at first, but it falls when he looks at your face.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” He presses a cool hand to your hot cheek, flicks his eyes over yours, and JJ makes a noise; when you glance over at her, she’s gesturing between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, we were wrong? What were we supposed to think?” Aaron frowns, not following, and you take a deep breath.

“They got me a gift certificate for my birthday. To a spa. For you and I to have a romantic getaway, because they were under the assumption we’ve been dating… for two months.” The way he pulls back quickly makes your stomach ache a little, but you say nothing. You should have known.

“You say I love you,” Derek begins like he’s listing evidence. “You have lunch together every day. You’re always smiling at each other.”

“Seriously, some of the softest, gooiest smiles I’ve ever seen,” Penelope adds.

“You eat together on cases, you’re texting all the time when you’re not together.”

“I’ve been pairing the two of you up in hotels since I first figured out you were dating,” JJ says, and the whole ‘you’re welcome’ thing suddenly makes some sense. “I booked you that room with just the one bed so you’d maybe feel more comfortable about us knowing, so you’d see that we don’t mind.”

“You’re always looking at each other, always touching,” Spencer says. “In Pittsburgh—that was the first time you really hugged or kissed each other in front of us. We were trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was kind of a big deal.”

You look over at Aaron, try to gauge his reaction, but for the first time in a long time you can’t tell what he’s feeling. You can’t really tell what you’re feeling, either. Sadness. Worry. Loss? But what have you lost?

“We’re friends,” you say, even if it sounds weak to your own ears. “We’re… close.”

“We wouldn’t exactly make sense as a couple, would we?” Aaron asks rhetorically, and your heart clenches when he says that. He told you this morning that he’d made dinner plans for you, both for your birthday and to discuss the kisses, what they mean, where you go from here, but that doesn’t sound very promising anymore. “We’re just—”

“Star-crossed,” you say, but you feel like your eyes are vacant. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You’re stupid for kissing him, for letting yourself think he could feel the same way you feel, have felt for a while. Isn’t friendship enough? Don’t you already have this special bond so unlike what you have with anyone else in your life? Why press your luck? You know better than that. “We should get back to work.”

You don’t look at Aaron, so you don’t know whether or not he looks at you. JJ does, and you can tell she knows you’re upset, but she just nudges everyone on their way, and you take a seat at your desk—it’s covered in balloons and streamers, the Penelope special.

You’ve never felt less like celebrating.

At lunchtime, Aaron stops at your desk, and the two of you walk out to the bench, open your bags in silence. You’re almost halfway through the hour before he tries to speak.

“Uh. I. About earlier,” he finally gets out, looking down at his sandwich, and you shake your head even though he’s not watching you.

“It’s fine. We don’t have to.” You take a bite of your salad even though you don’t taste it. “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. You are who you are,” smart, sweet, handsome, tender, caring, “and I am who I am.” Too quiet, too young, too impulsive, too silly, too emotional. He nods, looks at your face for the first time in a while, swallows.

“Right.” You’re due to exchange books back—his is on your lap, yours is on his—and he picks them both up. “I’m like this,” he says, holding up Beloved. “Faded cover, dog-eared pages, scribbles in the margins: middle-aged, divorced, a little broken, barely holding it together for the kid I don’t get to spend enough time with. You’re like this,” he says, holding up Ravished. “Fresh and glossy and shiny and new, with your whole life ahead of you, the whole world ahead of you. You could do anything, with anyone.”

You frown, because this is not what you meant, at all. How could he think that about himself, when the well-loved cover and the dog-eared pages and the scribbles in the margins are all the best parts of him?

“Aaron,” you say, but it sounds like pleading; you reach out to put your hands on his arms, but he pulls them back. His eyes are rimmed red, lips pressed together to hold back everything he’s not saying.

“I think lunch is almost over.” He packs up his things, leaves you with tears in your eyes and a wilted salad and a brand new romance novel you’re never going to read.

Later, he cancels dinner, says something came up, and you go home to your empty bed and watch Titanic and bawl your eyes out when Rose tells Jack she’ll never let go. Friday, you get another case. Weekend cases are no one’s favorite, but especially not yours, when you desperately needed that buffer of time away from Aaron to sort out your feelings and get back to some sense of normalcy. Instead, you’re flying to a small town outside of Nashville to catch a serial arsonist, and when you get to your hotel, you and Aaron are sharing a room.

At least there are two beds, this time.

You go with Emily and Spencer to a crime scene, walking around a house that was once picture perfect and is now all charred wood and ash, and you quickly tell yourself to get a grip and not look for metaphors for your own life while trying to solve a case. What kind of investigator are you? Pathetic, apparently.

You work until evening, and when it’s time to break for dinner, you buy a sad looking assortment of items from the police station vending machine and eat in the conference room by yourself.

It’s a good thing you do, because they get a call about the fire while everyone is still away, and you and a few locals are the first on the scene.

It doesn’t start out bad, mostly located in the back of the house, but you know how quickly these things can spread, and the fire department is working hard to put it out. One of the officers is talking to the family, and the mother is crying, so you come closer to figure out why.

“She said the daughter was supposed to be staying at a friend’s, but sometimes she changes her mind at the last minute and comes home. She can’t get ahold of her,” the officer says, and you nod, thinking.

“Where would she be? The front or the back?”

“Her room is in the front, second floor; if she’s here, that’s where she’d be,” the mother says, wiping her eyes with a tissue, and you tell the officer to stay with them, that you’ll take care of it. You talk to the firefighters—this town is so small there are only two that were able to respond, and they’re both busy trying to put out the fire, but they clear you to go in if you stick to the front of the building and get out of there as fast as you can.

Your team isn’t here yet either, too far out for comms to be effective, and you can’t get ahold of Aaron, so you make a judgement call and head inside.

The front of the house is so eerily normal it’s almost easy to calm your nerves and pretend the back isn’t in the process of being destroyed. You open the front door, run up the staircase, and call out for the girl; she answers, not from the front of the house, but the back—a bathroom maybe? Flames lick up the wall beside it, but you can get to the knob, and she comes rushing out, into your arms, terrified. You weren't expecting that, and you both fall back: your head hits off the floor, but she seems okay, so you tell her to run out the front door and find her mom.

You press a hand to the back of your head, and it comes back tacky with blood. There’s ringing in your ears for a couple of minutes, and then your favorite voice in the world comes through.

“Where are you? We’re here, where are you?” You’re getting hotter, and when you crane your neck up, you can see why: the fire is getting closer, creeping toward the staircase, creeping toward you. You inhale, cough, and press your walkie button.

“I’m upstairs in the hall; hit my head. It’s not safe.”

“I’m coming for you.” You groan. Stubborn man.

“It’s not safe, Aaron.” You hear the crackle of static, hope maybe he heard your warning and will wait until more firefighters arrive—but knowing him the way you do, that’s just wishful thinking. His voice rings out again, and despite the pain, you can’t help but smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack. Just stay put; I’ll be right there.” You close your eyes, drift in and out of consciousness; when you see him, all you can think is how ridiculously in love with him you are, and that you really hope you’ll be around to tell him. You are, of course, fine. Your head is the worst of it, even the smoke inhalation was mild, and the fire didn’t touch you, so there are no burns. Aaron doesn’t leave your side the entire time you’re being checked over, looks serious and concerned, though he smiles when the mother comes over and squeezes you so tightly you wince a little. It starts to rain, making the firefighters' jobs a little easier, and it feels oddly cleansing, after the day you’ve had. Someone offers you an umbrella, but you decline.

The fire is successfully put out, and the half of your team that didn’t respond to the scene responded to a call for suspicious activity, which ends up being your unsub. You are all happy no one was killed this time, and since you’re staying the night again, the group decides to grab a drink to celebrate. You don’t have a concussion, but your head still aches, so you pass, and Aaron passes with you.

You head to the hotel, park in the lot, but you don’t even make it halfway across before you stop, a hand on his arm.

“I need to say something,” you tell him, and he looks up at the dark sky like, right here? Right now?, even though you’re both already drenched. You nod, because if you don’t do this now you might never—almost dying always gives you an unhealthy amount of confidence, which you attribute to equal amounts of adrenaline and stupidity. “When we first met, I didn’t think we’d have a lot in common. We’re both quiet, but in wildly different ways, and I’m quick to trust and let people in while your guard is almost never down.”

He looks a little sad at that, and you realize you’re kind of doing what he did, putting the two of you into completely different categories, emphasizing the ways you don’t belong together. But that’s dumb, so you don’t give him time to focus on that for long.

“But being your friend, Aaron—the more time I spent with you, the more I came to feel like no one has ever understood me the way you do. No one has ever seen me the way you do.” Rain is pouring down all around you, beating against the pavement, flattening your hair against your head, but you don’t care. Regardless of his reaction, this is actually kind of perfect. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you—that was an accident, I admit. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You step closer to him, put your hands on his waist; he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t need shiny, glossy things; you're the one I want—faded cover, dog-eared pages, notes in the margins. I love you exactly as you are.”

He is gorgeous in the rain, water in his hair, dripping off his nose. His expression looks hopeful, and you pray to god that’s not wishful thinking.

“Say something, anything,” you beg, anticipation killing you, and he presses his hands to your cheeks and pulls you close for a deep, passionate, soulful kiss that says it all.

The words are nice to hear, though.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you either,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss breaks. “I told myself it was just a crush, because someone so young and beautiful was paying so much attention to me, treating me like more than just the guy giving orders. But the more time I spent with you, the more undeniable it became. You are everything good about the world—bright, optimistic, caring, funny, sweet. How could anyone not fall in love with you?”

You swallow hard, lean up to press your lips against his again.

“When you said we wouldn’t make sense as a couple…” He shakes his head.

“That was just me chickening out. After we kissed, I was all but ready to ask you to go steady,” he says, and you both smile, because he’s such an old fashioned dork, but god, do you love him. “And then we found out that the team thought we’d been together for months, and you looked freaked out, so I freaked out. I’m sorry. I should have made us talk about it sooner.”

“Classic pointless miscommunication,” you say with a laugh, and he chuckles too, kisses you again.

“Let’s go inside and get dried off; there’s a birthday gift in my bag I’ve been meaning to give you.” He takes your hand, and you head up, duck into the bathroom to change into dry clothes, squeeze the water out of your hair. There is a small, flat, wrapped present on your bed when you emerge, and you smile, sink down to open it.

It’s Romeo and Juliet, a brand new copy, but when you flip through it, there are blue inked notes in the margins. Aaron comes to sit beside you, touches your face like you’re something precious.

“The course of true love never did run smooth,” he murmurs, and you smack him on the arm with the book.

“That’s from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I know you know that,” you say with a grin. He nods in admission, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lean in for a warm, loving kiss. When you pull back, it’s with a soft smile. “Give me my sin again?”

“My pleasure,” he whispers, and you sink into his embrace and promise never to let go. The following week, you both leave work at noon on Friday so you can enjoy your romantic getaway. You drive to the spa, and Aaron reads over the brochure on his phone with a tone you find hilarious.

“Mud bath—I’m not bathing in mud. That’s counterintuitive.”

“It’s special mud; more like clay,” you say, but he snorts, scrolls.

“Seaweed wrap—nobody is wrapping me in seaweed. That sounds like a nightmare.” You laugh softly and take your exit.

“It’s supposed to be rejuvenating. JJ recommended it.”

“JJ weighs fifty pounds. It would take all the seaweed in the Atlantic to wrap me,” he says, and you roll your eyes, jab your finger into his ribs.

“But what if I get to unwrap you?” you ask, eyebrows raised; you briefly glance over and he makes a face of contemplation.

“Okay, that’s a maybe. Intimate aromatherapy—what does that even mean?”

“I think it means we do something that makes us smell good and then we go back to our room and kiss and stuff.”

“Now that doesn’t sound half bad,” he murmurs. “Foot massage? I’m not letting a stranger touch my feet, that’s weird.” You look over at him, squinting.

“You literally plugged someone’s bullet wound with your finger yesterday, but someone touching your feet is where you draw the line? Will you do anything on the list?” He scrolls down it, and his extended silence makes you laugh.

“Meditation. Couples massage,” he says, reaching over to rest a hand on your thigh. “There’s a sauna.” You think of him, sweat-drenched in a fluffy white towel, and take a deep, calming breath. “I bet the room is nice; did you bring a book?” You smile indulgently, reach out a hand to brush through his hair.

“Yep. It’s called A Duke’s Wild Kiss…” He gives you a mildly withering look, and you lightly tap the bridge of his nose. “Just kidding. I brought To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.” His answering smile is brilliant.

“Are you serious?” You nod, and he gestures to the backseat, where your bags are. “That’s what I brought, too.”

You spend too much of your romantic getaway in your room, but it is really nice; you do the couples massage, though, and aromatherapy, and the sauna, and then you take turns giving each other a foot massage while the other reads To the Lighthouse out loud.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t, but somehow you get to keep him anyway. A/N: Though I snuck in a few parts of a few different lyrics, two lines in particular inspired this fic: 'Now I've read all of the books beside your bed' and 'I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.' A lot of my fics lately have incorporated books... guess I better get reading!

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #paper rings #inspired by #taylor swift

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mountswhore · 3 years

Text

𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 — mason mount

summary: chelsea’s massage therapist, and mason’s long term crush, had moved to a different club. but after reuniting at nationals, you realise just how much you missed him.

notes: requests are open, just ask! this is so fucking long, please read when you have time.

“I will take care of you.” + “I could never get tired of you.”

for @masterclassbaby

“she’s pretty,” mason hummed, chin in the palm of his hands and eyes gazing at you. chelsea’s newest sports massage therapist. he watched as you conversed with a few of the injured teammates, the boys on either side of him laughing at his blushed cheeks.

“mounty’s in love.” chilly sang, pushing mason gently. the three of them were laying on the turf, waiting for their trainer to arrive and being introduced to the pretty lady who would be massaging their injured limbs from now on. “go on, make a move before kai does. you know he will.”

“i’m not making any moves,” mason huffed and pushed himself to his feet, ben following suit and pulling a ball towards him with his foot, “can i appreciate her beauty without wanting to make a move?” ben rolled his eyes at his friend, eyes now focused on the ball for the first time in twenty minutes.

“so you’re just going to stare at her, like a creep.” ben stated, stopping the ball with the side of his foot and kicked it back to mason. “noted.” mason was barely focused, looking over to you every time you laughed or your voice echoed. he’d laugh with you, crinkling his nose when you did, it was sickening.

ben had kicked the ball to mason’s feet, where is stilled and hadn’t even broken his stare. he had ‘regained control of the ball’ by kicking mason’s ankles, which had definitely caught his attention and caused him to hiss in pain. “you fucker, what did you do that for?”

“i just gave you a reason to talk to her, you clown.” ben revealed sarcastically, mason limping over to you as you held a look of concern.

“everything okay, mount?” you politely asked, the slight touch on his back as well as hearing his name fall from your mouth was sending him into a frenzy. he just nodded, and followed you inside to where your new office resided. “what the hell happened? last time i looked, you were kicking a ball about with chilly.”

your voice was as silky as he’d imagined. “yeah, he’s a bit slow. so he thought kicking me in the ankles would be a wise idea.” you couldn’t help but giggle at the man’s joke, avoiding his gaze as you were sure to blush. this man was attractive, but it was your first day, you had to remain professional.

“i better get to work,” you huffed, rubbing some hand sanitiser onto your hands and pulling his socks down. “we can’t have chelsea’s best player injured a few days before the game,” you’d finally met eyes and stared at each other for a brief second, before bashful looking away.

“you think that?” mason almost sounded unsure of himself.

“of course,” you grinned and applied some pressure to the side of his ankle, “i’d say you’re one of the best.” mason hummed almost silently, resting his head back on the table. it didn’t hurt, and if anything, he’d have to thank chilly for kicking his ankles, as it got you two talking.

weeks had passed, mason visiting your office most days with random excuses.

“my legs are fine. but maybe a shoulder rub for good luck?”

“i bought you a smoothie.”

“it’s cold outside, and i told the boys my thighs were sore.”

“now i’m just bored.”

every time he’d appear, you’d just pull up a chair instead of prepping the table. he’d talk to you about the most random of things, the pair of you having an intense debate on whether or not ross and rachel were on a break. he’d quickly become your favourite visitor.

“mr. mount, to what do i owe the pleasure?” you questioned, knowing it was him just by the way he fiddled with the handle before opening the door. he grinned at the nickname, sitting in the desk chair beside you.

“i actually came to ask if you wanted to go for a drink tonight. the boys were meant to, but now it looks like i’m all alone.” mason explained, a white lie thrown into the mix. he wasn’t being left by the boys, he asked them to cancel, so he could spend some with you. “so, you fancy it?”

“sure.” you smiled, accepting his invitation before you could overthink your way into cancelling. “i’ll text you my address.” he nodded his head, resting his head on his hands as you got on with paperwork. you could see out of the corner of your eye, he was staring at you as you worked. he had no training to be getting on with, and saw a better pastime in watching you work.

when you’d finally finished work and gotten yourself dressed up, mason was even more in awe of you. you looked adorable at work, and now he’d seen you in a new light. it’s like seeing your crush outside of school, it’s weird not seeing them in uniform, but seeing a new layer of them was good. he’d picked you up and taken you to the nicest pub he could find, it was a quiet one. it was a pub you had to pay extra for to sit on the terrace with a table to yourself. but he was willing to go the distance.

“it’s weird not seeing you in your kit.” you mentioned, staring at his impeccable sense of fashion. like he’d been ripped from the front page of asos. mason chuckled loudly and sipped on his beer, after doing a brief ‘cheers’ with you. it was british tradition, after all.

“i know. i’m used to seeing you in leggings and a chelsea top.” mason observed, his cheeks blushing at the way you looked at him. he felt the butterflies begin to swarm in his stomach, like they did on the way here. “now you’re in a dress, i can see your legs.” his eyes widened at the weird statement that just fell from his lips, face burning with embarrassment. “sorry, that sounded so creepy.”

you burst into laughter, feeling anything but disturbed. in fact, you felt more comfortable with him. “don’t worry about it, you’re easy to feel comfortable with.” mason took this chance to hide his rosy cheeks by sipping on his beer. the pair of you conversed for well over an hour, your conversations from work spilling into the mix too. and soon enough you were laughing on the walk back to your home.

“that’s hilarious. i can’t believe we could’ve almost met years ago.” you exclaimed, mason proud of recalling that memory. the pair of you remembered an awful christmas concert that happened in a town near central london, and were almost inches apart unknowingly covering your ears at the screeches made by the backup singers.

you’d ended up at your door, mason standing just centimetres away from your face. you knew what he wanted, and you wanted it to. so, with the confidence given to you by the mixer you’d just downed a while ago, you closed the gap between you and engaged in a sweet kiss with him. it was well overdue, mason’s teammates would say as he told them the following day.

you’d settled in really nicely with the team, enjoying every day you spent at the training grounds. you’d only been on that one drink date with mason, always planning to reschedule another but you’d both be too busy to do so. it didn’t stop you from texting nonstop and have some late night facetime calls. you were really beginning to like each other. it was as if nothing could ruin your happiness you felt with your life at this moment.

until you’d been pulled aside and told by chelsea’s own manager that a man united massage therapist had quit, offering you the job. it would mean your whole life would shift, you’d have to move, you’d have to make friends with a team all over again, and leave mason. you couldn’t bear telling him, which you’d also been told to do. you’d have to break the news to your beloved team, who would come and cheer with you after a win, and always pester you with random requests. you were each of their’s personal assistant almost, loving your relationship with them all. and mason, you knew he’d be crushed, the girl he was so deeply falling for, being told to move to another club.

you were on edge since that very morning, not being your usual joking self with your boys as they came in for their sessions. you’d weakly smile at them and make small talk whilst tending to their stiff joints, then let them leave. all the boys carried on with their day, assuming you were just having a bad day. but mason could see through you, he could tell something was playing on your mind.

as you were putting pressure on mason’s ankle, which he’d been take off the pitch for last week, he grabbed your arm gently. sitting up, he pulled you close to him and held you how he usually did. his hands grazing your sides and his eyes almost burning holes into your own. “talk to me, pretty. what’s on your mind?”

you shook your head. “i’d go easy on the foot today, mount. i don’t want to see you benched next game.” would you even be able to see their next game? it brought you close to tears throughout the day, but being trapped in a room with mason, you were bound to cry and tell him everything.

his grip didn’t leave your arm, instead he pulled you closer to him and held you close to his chest, now standing and towering over you. you felt a sob erupt through your chest, opening the flood gates as you cried into him. he’d never seen you like this, you were always his smiling ball of sunshine. “talk to me, y/n.”

“they’re moving me.” you simply stated, hoping not to say another word and him just understand completely. but it didn’t work like that, none of the team knew. mason would be the first to know, and you had to tell the rest of the team before the day was up. as this weekend you’d be arranging accommodation in manchester whilst you looked for permanent residence, as well as meeting the team and staff you’d be working for.

“what?”

“they’re moving me to united, mase. a therapist quit over there and they asked for me, your manager signed me over a few days ago. and i’m gonna be leaving you boys.” you explained, mason’s grip on you loosening as he tried to come to terms with what you were saying. he’d had his fair share of bad news in his life, but this was the biggest blow he’d felt in a while.

“they can’t do that,” mason stuttered over his tears, a frown cast upon his face, “they can’t just expect you to pack up and leave.” you placed your hands over his cheeks, forcing him to look down at you. that’s when his tears began to fall, looking so vulnerably at each other in this time of sadness.

“they can, mason. and they have, i need to go this weekend to meet the team and look to move up there.” you admitted, your hands refused to leave his face. you were soaking up every bit of mason you could before you left. long-distance didn’t work for either of you, especially with how busy you both were. the only time you’d see each other would be if chelsea were to play united.

“i can’t lose you, y/n.” he confessed, pulling you into him and resting his head above yours. it wasn’t just losing a girl he was seeing, it was losing someone he loved. he’d fallen deeply in love with you — but telling you would just hinder your movement. he couldn’t make it any harder than it was, it would ruin you. he just had to let you go.

that afternoon, you’d thought about what you were going to say and met the boys on the pitch. the second mason saw you, it took everything in him to not cry into his hands. but he managed to stay strong. you stood weakly beside the team manager, avoiding everyone’s eyes and fiddling with your jumper sleeves.

“afternoon boys,” you greeted them, hearing a few cheers and whistles, they loved you, “i have some news. today will be my last day working with you. i’ve been transferred to united, which will take full effect this weekend. you guys have my number if you just want to talk rubbish, or have any questions for me.” it was a long while of hugging them all, laughing with them and repeating little inside jokes with them.

“what are you going to do without me, huh?” you asked reece, who just chuckled and gave you a squeeze. “i’ll miss you all, you know who i’ll be cheering on if you ever go against united.”

you’d settled in at united perfectly, but something was missing. it was always going to feel this way, nothing would ever break the bond you shared with the chelsea boys. even when they went head to head, and you’d catch mason’s eyes on the pitch, you’d have to hide your smile when they scored, and try even harder if mason was the one putting it in the back of the net. you got on well with the boys here, but you found yourself missing the boys back at chelsea, and most of all, mason.

months had passed since your move to manchester, and you were heading out of your office on a particular tiring friday afternoon, walking past united’s manager, who always seemed to be on his way to something.

“ah, y/n, just who i needed to see.” he commented, stopping you as you were headed out to find a late rashford for his session. “keep an eye on your emails tonight, please. you’ve been included in an international offer.” you nodded, not hearing anything past the word ‘email’. and when you’d gotten home that evening, waiting for your takeaway to arrive, you mindlessly scrolled your emails.

something about the upcoming world cup, saying you’d been selected as the teams massage therapist. it burned your eyes as you danced around your tiny living room; so happy to have a chance at seeing any of the chelsea boys again. you’d thought that after all these months of just seeing mason’s face in his instagram posts, he’d have forgotten about you and moved on. but it was the furthest from the truth.

mason watched over your socials for months, seeing your various pictures with the likes of rashford, shaw, and lingard. he made sure you had friends and was having a good time up north. but every night he’d go to bed, yearning for you and the time you both spent together. missing your first kiss, missing hearing the sound of your laugh in real life, not just through another footballers videos. he missed spending hours on the phone. and although he had a chance to reconnect with you, it would be too much for the both of you to handle. he’d miss you so much more, knowing you were simply unobtainable.

after signing all of the correct documents to show you could in fact work for the national team, you were on your way to the training grounds and coping with living in the camp alongside the boys and other members of staff. it was better than your tiny manchester apartment, that was for sure. you weren’t really needed outside for training, so you set up your office and began on your paperwork. time passed a lot quicker here than it did when you worked at united, it was nearing your lunch break already. a knock was placed at your door, bringing your out of your work daze.

“hello, stranger.” you heard from behind you, heart overjoyed that it was actually him. it was your mason. you turned round to greet him, standing up and immediately pulling him into a hug. it felt familiar, the only bit of familiarity you had in this place. “god, i missed you.” he even smelt the same, as creepy as it was to say.

“i knew you’d be called up,” you admitted to him, looking up at his red face. it was just like the first time, he was so nervous to talk to you, “you’re still my best player.” his hands found your cheeks, taking advantage of the affection not feeling awkward. it was as if you never left.

“you don’t understand how much i’ve missed you all these months, y/n,” he whispered, face centimetres away from yours. “how much i’ve wanted to kiss you again.” you wanted it too, you finally felt like you found your missing piece. but you had to remain professional, this was national level now, not just club level.

“trust me,” you whispered back at him, holding your hands above his own, “i’ve wanted to kiss this pretty face, too. but we have to be professional.” he nodded, understanding that if they were caught, you’d be the one facing repercussions, not him. so he respected your choice and stood back.

“what about when the day’s over, and we go back to the camp,” he suggested, a hand on your shoulder to stop you from turning around, “what would you say to me then?” you just shrugged, sitting back down in your chair and continuing your work. the remainder of your day was quiet, just talking about a few people tomorrow that have stiff joints that need loosening. you’d made your way back to camp, opening your door and sighing as you took your shoes off.

what room are you in? mason texted, waiting outside his door.

you’re eager, i just finished work. but i’m on the floor above you, room 39. you texted him back, speedily changing your attire for something more comfortable and freshening up. mason would be up here within seconds. and whilst there were no rules stating that the squad shouldn’t be in staff members rooms, it felt wrong.

“you’re gonna have to leave when nobody can see you.” you sighed, opening your door to an eager mason. he wormed past you and sat on your bed, semi annoyed that your bed was comfortable than his.

“so not only do you get a room to yourself, you get a bed that doesn’t feel like a plank of wood.” mason stated, clearly getting comfortable on your bed. “i just might have to stay here.” you rolled your eyes and sat beside him, resting your head on the pillow. “you tired?”

instead of saying anything, you nodded and inched closer to him. his right hand was drawing delicate patterns on your exposed arm, whilst the other was wrapped around you. this was the moment he wanted with you, even when you were working at chelsea. but it’s happening now and that’s all he cared about. holding the girl he still deeply loved in his arms.

“i’ll go down to dinner soon,” he mentioned, even if you could hear him or not, “maybe i’ll bring you something up.” a small kiss was placed on your temple, mason snuggling into you a bit more.

the next day, you knew you had some sessions. so you were up early, a text from mason on your phone.

i left late last night, i fell asleep once i came back from dinner. i hope you had a good night.

you blushed at his text, getting yourself prepared for the day. the boys had a match coming up soon and you wanted to be on top of your game, making sure they were all stretched and ready. you sat in your office, prepping your table and your paper work for the first person to enter.

you’d worked with grealish, bellingham, and lingard today. and they only had a few more hours training until they were done for the day. you sighed in your seat and rested your head against your desk, arms and hands sore. your handle was violently shoved down, your door opening in the process. startled, you watched declan carry his best mate in.

“he rolled his ankle taking a kick,” declan explained, helping his friend onto the table. you quickly sanitised your hands and pulled his sock down to observe his ankle. “will he be okay for the game in a few days?”

“yes, dec. he’ll be out in no time.” you reassured his friend, mason smiling through the sharp pain shooting through his ankle. declan had left shortly afterwards, leaving you to giggle at mason.

“what you giggling at, hm?” mason questioned, a finger tickling your side. you squirmed and brushed a hand over his head, his features relaxing under your touch.

“it’s always the ankles, hm?” you retorted, mason rolling his eyes before letting out a laugh of his own. “let’s get you back on your feet in time for this game.” you had taken his boot and sock off, applying gentle pressure to the sides of his ankle and seeing how badly he reacted to the pain.

after the next few days of training, it was finally time for the match. you stood nervously on the side of the pitch, watching the ball being passed around. you watched as it had gone to mason, someone from the opposing team sliding into mason, and knocking his ankles together. he fell and began to yell in pain, the medics rushing over to him and assessing the pain. after realising it was not too serious, but he still had to be taken off, they’d given the job to you.

mason sat on one of the chairs beside you, head leaned back as you pulled his socks down. he winced as your small, cold fingers had pressed different parts of his ankle, but it didn’t feel bad. in fact, it was quite relieving. “it really is always the ankles,” mason finally agreed, making you chuckle and sit on the floor opposite him, “god, it fucking hurts.”

“i will take care of you,” you mentioned, your hand sliding into his. he smiled at the contact, his free hands gently tickling your side. this small amount of public affection felt scary, but good. you knew someone would pick up on it, but you didn’t care in the slightest. you had been away from mason for far too long. months and months apart, yearning for each other every second you were awake.

when the match was over, england scoring a whopping 4-0, mason was by your side for the rest of the evening. even getting onto the coach to go home, he sat beside you the whole way; his hand in yours and his head gently resting against your shoulders. when heading back to camp, knowing you had a day’s break before the boys were back on for training again in time for the next match, mason followed you to your room. you didn’t mind, neither did anybody else really.

you’d gotten into bed beside him that night, eyes heavy from the amount of work you’d both put in today, and the buzzed feeling from declaring victory had awoken something in him. he had the urge to kiss you, like he has every moment he’s spent with you recently, but more than that. he wanted to tell you he loved you, but decided to keep quiet. he wanted to save it for another day, maybe someday more special, when you weren’t trying to catch up on sleep between games.

“are you tired of me?” mason asked, releasing his voice into the darkness. he had no idea whether you were awake or asleep, as half an hour had passed of you both enjoying each other’s presence. you were wide awake, although your eyes told a different story.

“i’m tired in general,” you admitted, rolling over to face him, barely catching his pearly whites in the dark, “but i could never get tired of you.” mason’s heart was beating through his chest, reaching out for your hand to place onto it. it was a special moment — feeling his heart rapidly paced from your words, you’d barely noticed mason’s arm around you as he pulled you into him.

“good, because i’m not letting you go again,” he spoke quietly, your hand now replaced with your head, feeling his pulses on your cheekbone. you smiled for the millionth time that day, happy you had your mason back.

#money mase #mason mount x reader #mason mount smut #mason mount imagine #mason mount blurb #mason mount

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writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

mistletoe magic | stiles stilinski

word count; 10,490

summary; stiles learns that his cute neighbour might be a witch after accidentally getting her spellbooks delivered to him instead.

notes; I know a witch!au isn’t a huge au for stiles, because he’s had evident races of magic throughout the series anyway, but just enjoy it!

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, use of magic

It had been a pretty regular Monday morning for Stiles.

At six sharp, he’d been up and awake, barely functional but stumbling through his apartment and clicking on the coffee machine, before hopping into the shower for a quick wash. When he’d emerged, the machine had just finished grinding, as always, his routine functioning like a well-oiled machine now, and he’d moved it all across into a to-go cup and left it on the counter before going to get dressed.

He’d stumbled around to find his school books and shove them into a bag, eaten two cinnamon pop tarts that had burned the tips of his fingers when he’d grabbed them straight from the toaster, and had still been chewing as he shoved his keys in his pocket and sipped at his coffee, straight into the elevator at twenty to seven.

It was a fifteen-minute walk across campus to his early morning lecture on a Monday, leaving him with a few minutes to spare, in case he saw the sweet older lady from two floors down and wanted to say ‘hi’, or the cute neighbour who lived across the hall that always made him fall over his own feet, or maybe even the kid who delivers newspapers and is always falling off of his bike. He made it on time, took some great notes, and was feeling a little more alive and welcome into his day.

At exactly ten past one, he’d been home, having gone to the library to get some study in and find his new books, and get lunch at the diner he always ate at after classes, a cheeseburger and curly fries, and grabbed his letters and a parcel from the mail slot with his housing number printed on, tucking the package under his arm and heading upstairs and back to his flat, ready to flick through his bills.

All according to plan. One year and four months away at university and he knew every day like he’d been doing it for a decade, so he was only half-way to the kitchen when he remembered the package he was clutching under his arm, coming to a complete halt, throwing the usual assortment of envelopes away to the counter, and producing the neatly wrapped bundle.

He didn’t question it, not even bothering to look at the front, figuring it was just an early delivery on the textbooks that he wasn’t expecting to get here for another three weeks, finger slipping under the folds of the brown paper and tearing it away, fingers dancing over the covers of the books, before his brows were furrowing once again.

These were definitely not his ‘intro to psychological profiling’ textbooks.

Beautiful swirls in gold, carved into dark leather across the front, Latin words he didn’t understand before he was opening the cover, brushing off a layer of dust and letting one brow arch up. The text inside was English - though, no modern - and paper that he was cautious to take care of, simply from what appeared to be the age of it, stained and worn, finger marks clear on the corner from being passed down through generations. It was handwritten, drawings in old ink that had leaked onto the paper a little, rough and coarse, and labelled doodles with names he had never heard of before.

At a glance, he would assume it to be some kind of witchcraft.

He felt on edge, suddenly. He’d left Beacon Hills to come to somewhere that no supernatural would follow, where things like werewolves were still a myth, something to be laughed at, and he swallowed thickly, looking around his apartment as though someone was going to jump out. He loved his friends, he really did, and he didn’t so much mind the supernatural when he was with them all because they protected him, but alone out here, he and his bat didn’t stand a chance.

Now, it was Christmas, he knew this from the poor excuse of a tree up in his living room, and the snow outside, and the fact that for the last six weeks, his usual mochas had been a gingerbread-spiced mocha, on the insistence of the barista who served him whenever he ventured into the little coffee shop joint, and he was growing find of it. So, he tried to be optimistic, in the spirit of festivities and all that, and texted the group chat, waiting to see if any of them had sent him the books as a present, maybe even his father or Melissa. He even texted Parrish.

Except, they all said no, and now, he was stumped. Then, as he was being extra nosey and flicking through the book, he came across a page marked with a small slip of card, the item falling out, and he cursed, having no idea which page it came from, but as he picked up the piece of paper, one of the questions in his puzzle finally gained another piece towards the jigsaw.

‘(Y/N), the spell you’re looking for is here, but be careful, it’s a strong one.’

So, the books are for his hot neighbour, the next number up from his, and it now made sense as to why he had these books - they were a mistake. It opened a new question, however, as to why you would be getting them.

He had absolutely no patience, barley remembering to flick the catch on his door so that he’d be able to get back inside, before he was striding across the hall in one, two steps, and knocking on the wood. He could hear you shuffling around inside, the soft and muffled notes of the classic rock music you’d been listening to getting turned right down to low. It only took you a further few seconds until you were opening the door, but it felt like years to him with his impatience, fingers tapping against the books agitatedly, biting the nail of the other thumb, and his foot was tapping against the floor.

When you opened the door, though, he felt like it was too soon, like he wasn’t prepared for what to say, his breath hitching in his throat as his heart leapt in his chest, eyes sweeping down along your body and widening at your bare legs, only a t-shirt hanging on your frame, rising up to reveal the edge of a pair of white lace panties as you opened the door, and he forced his eyes back up to yours, wincing as he bit down a little too harshly on his nail, and pulled it from his mouth, shaking it as his dropped to his side.

“Hey, neighbour.”

“H-Hi. Hello. Yes, hi.” He already wanted to die a little bit, he hadn't stuttered this much in front of a pretty girl since junior year in high school, even Lydia had lost this effect on him, and college really had been a growing experience for him. He’d had a fair few hook-ups, and experimented, and he wasn’t shy about flirting when he wanted to, but you always through hi right back through loops, like he was still that kid with a buzzcut.

“What can I do for you, four-A?”

“Stiles. My name is Stiles.” He waited for the usual reaction, the cringe, the eyebrows shooting up, the scowl, something to indicate that you had actually heard the pronunciation, but you only smiled a little wider.

“I know. After I introduced myself and you fell over and didn’t give me your name, I checked the mail in your post-slot. I was curious. There was a lot addressed to Mieczysłav, but then one with a handwritten address to Stiles.” You shrugged, leaning against the doorframe, and crossing your arms, and while you might seem casual, at least his degree was coming in useful for something, as your body language read an entirely different reaction, insecurity and worry rolling off of you in invisible waves of tells.

He rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand, laughing slightly. “That sounds like something I would do.”

Silence fell between you both for a second, and he couldn't help but stare, taking in every detail of your face, the way your lower lip was a little reddened, and he figured you must have been nibbling on it while working, and your hair was messy, an attempt to pin it back that seemed to have come loose and entirely ineffective, presumably from dancing, because you looked a little flushed. When you raised your brows at him a little, he realised you were waiting for him to explain himself, why he was on your doorstep, and he flushed with embarrassment shaking his head clear.

“I got your spellbooks by mistake.” He held them out, eyes widening even more, before his jaw was dropping open. “Book. Regular books. Not spell books, because that would imply magic, right? And, that’s dumb. Just regular books. I didn’t look at them, at all, not even a little bit, I promise.”

“You don’t believe in magic, then?” You took them from him, a coy smile on your lips, and you placed them down on the counter beside the door, pushing a bowl of potpourri getting pushed aside, along with your car keys and what looked like an incense burner.

“Do you?”

He was testing the water, seeing where your mind was at, and as a whistling came from your kitchen, you glanced back over to the kettle on the hob, and he thought this conversation might be about to come to an end. “Well, I think there’s always a little magic in life, even if people don’t notice it. You have to believe in magic to be able to see it. It’s like the supernatural that way.”

“And, you believe in the supernatural, huh?” He felt bad for the way he said it, because it was mocking, but he had to be sure that you weren’t messing with him, or spying on him, he had to try and find out who you were, but you only looked away as the whistling got louder, opening the door a little more and waving him inside as you walked away, and he stumbled after you and closed the door before his mind had even caught up with the movement of his feet.

Your apartment was littered with plants. The windowsills were lined with them, all brought green and blooming, even though he was sure it wasn’t the right season, and there was even a set of cactuses along a shelf near the corridor. There was a homey feel to your place, almost earthy, neutral tones and soft accents, a smell that was so calming he felt his own muscles begin to relax, and the music had changed from classic rock to some country song he was sure he’d heard in a movie somewhere but couldn't quite place it, and he followed you to the kitchen.

Rows of cookbooks and recipe folders stacked up on top of a lower cupboard, and he swallowed thickly, averting his gaze from the way your lace panties hugged your ass deliciously as you reached up for a mug, bringing back two, and pouring them both full of the herbal concoction you’d been making. On a mismatching saucer, you offered it to him, and he sniffed it carefully, but remembered his manners, mumbling a ‘thank you’, because his mother raised his right, even if he was a little suspicious of you.

“Relax, Stiles, if I was going to poison you, I wouldn’t be giving you tea made of Valerian and Lemon Balm. Do you want any honey, honey?” You grinned a little at your joke, but he shook his head, watching as you stirred a spoonful of the sticky sweetener into your own, and taking a tentative sip after blowing on the surface. It wasn’t all that bad, he had to admit, and he found his tensions slipping away a little. “It’s for relaxing, and helping with sleep.”

“It’s good.” You smiled, blowing lightly on your own, and he decided that he could busy himself by checking out your posters. An interesting arrangement, one was a band poster, the other was a chart with the phases of the moon, a third with diagrams of plants and little facts underneath, and the fourth, with symbols and drawing he didn’t quite understand. “So, you’re really embracing that whole witch thing, then?”

“Well, seeing as I am a witch, I would think it’s only appropriate.” He tried to hide his grin behind his mug, shaking his head a little, not believing that they really existed, and you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes, clearly, because there was a playful kind of offence flashing across your face. “You can’t tell me you think I’m insane, not when there’s so much of the supernatural all over you, Stiles.”

“The supernatural? Really?”

“So, you’re not the emissary to a pack of werewolves?” You challenged, his jaw dropping at the accuracy of it, and it was your turn to laugh at him. “It’s literally stitched into your aura, I sensed another supernatural the second you walked into the building.”

“I just associate with a lot of ‘em, but I’m not supernatural myself.”

“You sure about that?” He stilled, memories flashing behind his eyes of a time when he once was, and you seemed to pick up on the slightly sour mood he’d taken on, then again, he wasn’t really sure where your abilities lay, being that Scott or Derek would have simply sniffed it out on him. Your hand on his arm snapped him back to the moment, fingers squeezing lightly at his bicep. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“There was a possibility, once, but it’s gone. There’s a dark chapter in my past, and the spark I was told I once had disappeared when I got through it.”

It went quiet again after that, your fingers slipping down from his arm to take his, and you placed your cup down, the steaming brew barely touched, but he followed suit, letting himself be pulled along as you directed him back to the living room. You were distracting him, it was an obvious ploy, but he was excited to learn, and he let the sadness of remembering his possession fade away as the thrill of new knowledge took over. “I can tell you have a lot of questions, so, what do you want to know first?”

He rubbed at his chin, settling down onto the couch at the edge of the room, finding it surprisingly comfortable, and you were busying yourself around him, a little water jug in your hand as you nurtured the abundance of houseplants you owned. “How did you know about my pack? And how much do you know about them?”

“It’s in your aura, I suppose. I can just pick up hints of different things when you’re around. The wolves are obvious, I’ve been around a lot of wolves. I also get death, and I've never met a banshee, but I assume that’s what it is. I knew you were the emissary because you’re the only magic in there, I would sense other traces on you, and there’s something else I can’t quite place.” Your face screwed up a little bit as you thought about it, nose wrinkling adorably before shrugging. “Like a werewolf, but not quite. I can’t get it.”

“She’s a werecoyote.”

You paused your pouring, turning to look at him, eyes flicking lightly around his being, before smiling slightly to yourself, and going back to your task. “Huh. Interesting.”

“Have you been a witch your whole life?”

“Since the day I was born, but I didn’t know or start practising until I was older. It just kinda’ happens, comes out of nowhere at a certain age, you start to realise you have abilities.” You had moved onto using a dropper to give little drips of water to cacti and succulents, standing on a small step stool as you did.

“Do you have to go to a school, like Harry Potter? Do you have a wand?”

You laughed at that, a genuine and hearty laugh, and you finished up your tasks, legs folding underneath yourself and you smirked a little at him as you sat down and got comfortable. “You wish, Stilinski. It’s not like that, it's more of an earthly connection than magic. It’s why my plants are so healthy. I can brew stuff, make little potions-” You motioned a hand over the jars lining the shelves on the walls, his eyes scanning over each one, picking out the neatly written titles across the fronts. “-I can cast very light spells, but it’s not the sort of thing where you can curse people, or teleport.”

“So, you can’t curse people to turn into frogs?”

“No, unfortunately not.” He was sure your giggle was the sweetest he’d ever heard, and he dared to twist himself around a little more, inching slightly closer to you across the couch. “I can do some stuff, like make your skin break out or give you a rash that won’t go away until I let it, and I can even give you headaches and such, but I don’t like to dabble in that sort of stuff. I much prefer protection charms.”

“Protection charms?” His heart skipped a little beat at the way your face lit up as you nodded, and he was intrigued, interest piqued. “I could use one of those, y’know, I’m incredibly clumsy and often get into supernatural trouble when I’m home. Hasn’t been so bad since I got here. Will you make me one?”

Your eyes left him, bottom lip nibbled between your teeth, and for a second he had worried he’d messed up, unsure on how witch spellcasting etiquette worked, but then you were moving across the room, opening up the cabinet on the other side of the room, and inside the doors and wooden frame hung what must be close to a thirty different decorative charms. Some were dreamcatchers or garlands hanging on the inside of the door, others were handcrafted little ornaments sitting on the shelves and filling them up, and your fingers were flittering over them all.

When you found what you were looking for, you lifted it out, a dream catcher that was bright and colourful and a little odd-looking, before bringing it back over to him, and presenting him with it cautiously. “You already made me one?”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t let the cute guy from across the hall get any more injuries. I watched you fall over five times in your first week living here. You’re really clumsy.”

He felt heat rush to his cheeks, and yet he couldn't help the goofy grin that travelled across his features, not mentioning the fact that he noticed you sitting considerably closer to home when you took your seat once again. He was embarrassed for two reasons, the first being that you had noticed his innate penchant for ridiculous injuries, but more overwhelmingly, the second being that you still thought he was cute. College might have helped him bloom a little, but when he had a crush, he was still a bumbling mess, and he didn’t know quite how to respond.

He busied himself with taking in the details of the dreamcatcher. Somehow, despite this being the first real conversation that the two of you had ever had, passing and fleeting chats in the halls and elevator not counting, you had managed to capture his entire essence, he could already tell. The strings were made of wool, chunky and all different colours, a mix of yellows and blues, woven in together and tangled in strange patterns, but beautiful nonetheless, and the little accents were what made it complete.

A button that had fallen off of one of his flannels, he recognised the distinctive wooden piece, and it was woven into the design, along with a blue ribbon in the same colour of the jeep that was tied in a bow, and a wooden twig tangled in it. Dangling on more pieces of wool from the bottom was a keyring he was sure he’d lost after leaving it downstairs overnight, the Yoda on it looking cleaner than he remembered, and you must've cleaned it. There was also a black feather, and a sprig of some kind of dried herb that he didn't recognise, but enjoyed the smell anyway.

It was intricate and personal, and he felt chuffed just to know that you’d made one for him, a little security and peace washing over him to know that someone was out here looking after him, completely unmaliciously, simply because you wanted to.

“This is incredible.” You let out a breath of relief, he recognised it in the way your body slumped a little, and he placed it down carefully on the coffee table beside you both, reaching out to take your hand in his, and daring to lace your fingers together and squeeze in gratitude, and you held onto him yourself, gaze dropping down to your connected hands. In a bold move of your own, you lifted your other hand, holding onto his with both of yours, and his thumb lifted out to brush lightly over your skin. “You’re the reason I don’t get papercuts and splinters anymore.”

“And you are very welcome for that.” You teased him back, and an easy kind of harmony fell between you both, your presence being more comfortable simply having only just really begun to meet you than he ever had been with someone new. It was strange, to feel so relaxed and at home with you, the way you put his fears at ease and soothed every worry without even trying, making him feel welcome and accepted, like he’d known you for years, not just shy of an hour. “Will you tell me about your pack?”

“You really want to know?” He couldn’t mask his surprise, and you nodded, excitement gleaming in your eyes, and he felt a surge of pride swell up in his system at the idea of getting to boast about his friends completely honestly for the first time in his life. There was no threat, he wasn’t showing off their skills as a way to try and ward off a threat or intimidate someone, but he simply wanted everyone else to be as awed by them as he was, and he didn’t have to hide any supernatural secrets from you. “Shall I start at the beginning?”

“Is it a long story?”

“Very long.” He confirmed, a shy laugh leaving you, before you were shifting again.

“How about I go and make us some fresh tea, then?” You were on your feet, wandering away to the kitchen as soon as he’d offered his affirmations of the idea, and he decided to follow after you, already beginning to blather about Peter Hale.

Hours seemed to pass by, as he spoke to you, two more pots of tea being made, and you’d broken out your snack-store for him, before the two of you had ordered pizza. He’d made himself at home, too, keys and phone sitting abandoned on the table, shoes kicked off on the floor, and feet stretched out along the couch. You were sitting at the opposite end, your legs stretched out in his direction, and one of his hands was sitting on your ankle, fingers drawing patterns on the soft skin there absentmindedly as his other hand was used to gesture wildly around himself.

He told you it all, confessing right from the beginning as he encountered Derek Hale, who liked to lurk in the woods, which had made you crack up as he told you about how the man was basically now the alpha, even if Scott was officially the alpha, and he’d told you about Jackson’s kanima phase, which had made you crack up even more as you claimed he deserved it.

You’d been shocked by his homicidal English teacher, and comforted him when he spilled his heart to you over the nogitsune incident he hated to think about, accepting your hush happily, and revelling in the smell of your hair when you’d pressed in close to him, before retreating to your seat.

He told you all about the benefactor and the dread doctors, and about Allison’s death, which he still blamed himself for when he was on a low day, and you’d used your thumb to clear away the tear that had fallen from his cheek, leaving him blushing and breathless for a second when you’d pressed a light kiss to his cheekbone just after.

You had scooted closer to him and stayed there near the end of his tales, tucked under his arm, playing with his fingers over your shoulders as he rambled about how alone he’d felt while taken by the Wild Hunt, thoughts that he’d always kept locked up in his own mind, never having shared with another person before.

“You really got the short end of the ‘supernatural encounters’ stick then, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart, that is the understatement of the century.” You lifted your head from his shoulder, your feet nudging together on the coffee table, the reindeer themed fluffy socks on your feet playing with the patchy and worn door knitted socks he’d had for years, worn to keep warm during the winter, even though your apartment was nice and toasty, the heaters running and the radiators on, and it was much cosier than his place had ever been.

The Christmas lights on a timer had come on, flickering around the place once the light had started fading, hours flashing by in the blink of an eye, a hazy glow cast over the apartment and creating a whole new range of shadows. “Do you want me to make charms for your friends?”

He watched you for a moment longer, trying to discern whether you were serious, and when he caught no gesture of ill-will, or hesitation, or hidden-motives, he smiled. “You’d do that?”

“Seems like you all need it.”

He shrugged a little, smiling when you rested your forehead against his, fingers playing together still, but feet stilling in their game of footsie. “I can’t believe I waited this long to get to know you. You’re, like, the coolest chick I’ve ever met.”

His eyes fluttered closed, he couldn't’ help it, noses bumping together as you both simply drowned in the moment, in what the moment was leading up to, where you both knew this was going but were revelling in the simple but exhilarating tension that was crackling with electricity in the millimetres of space between your lips and his. You were so close to him that he could feel it more than hear it when you whispered some words he didn’t quite understand, your breath fanning over his face in a dreamy sigh, and it took his hazed brain a second to catch up, before he was pulling back just enough to catch your eyes, one hand coming up to rest over your cheek as he turned to face you fully.

“Oh, my God. Did you just cast a spell?”

“Look up.” He was hesitant to pull back much further, but did so anyway, and he chuckled slightly as he spotted the little green plant beginning to sprout from the ceiling. Vines were still strengthening along the beam, and the leaves were beginning to form right before his eyes, white berries hanging between the green stems, and Stiles shook his head, in complete awe as he looked at it.

You were staring up to, eyes focused on the plant as it bloomed and he assumed you were concentrating on its development, but he couldn't hold back anymore, two hands on your cheeks, pulling your face back to his, and your lips barely parted to speak before his mouth was colliding with your own. A squeak left you, and he wanted to grin at being able illicit such a sound from you, but the temptation to kiss was just enough for him to contain himself. When your mind finally caught up, you were kissing him back just as eagerly, a soft sigh leaving you. “You are fucking adorable.”

The words were whispered into your mouth, he felt you shake with a soft laugh under his hold, before you were holding onto him just as tightly in return. One of your hands wrapped around his wrists, the other sliding over his bicep to his shoulder, before slipping down underneath, and smoothing over the front of his chest. He puffed out a little under your touch, pulling away for a quick breath, groaning slightly at the way your nails dug into his skin as he did, and then, he was diving right back into you.

Your hand slipped down to rest over his heart, the organ thudding under your hand, and he felt like it was going to burst right out of his chest, but as he pressed a little further into you, a shock like an electrocution was racing right through his body, a kind of jolt that was thoroughly exhilarating, and he pulled away, eyes wide as he stared at you.

You looked just as shocked as he expected he did too, his hands dropped down as he watched sparks and electricity crackle between your fingers and his, your brows raising at him. “Thought you said you had no magic left after.. y’know..”

He couldn’t drag his eyes away from it, your fingers weaving with his, a loud snapping sounding as a particularly bright flare went off, and he flinched a little, jaw dropping and a whine slipping from him as you contained it all the sight disappeared before his eyes. “So, there really are sparks flying between us, huh?”

He regretted the words the moment he’d said them, expecting to see on your face the same kind he’d always gotten from Malia or Lydia when he made those kinds of cheesy puns that only he enjoyed, even Scott daring to fix him with a bored or blank look, and Derek would simply glare, but much to his surprise, you laughed. It was fond, with a roll of your eyes and a huff to preempt it, but you laughed nonetheless, and he felt himself somehow manage to brighten even further. “That was cheesy.”

“I know.” He beamed, shifting a little, hands sinking down to your hips to pull you closer to himself as he settled back into the couch, and your hand pressed to the cushions beside his head, the other one coming up to weave into his hair lightly.

“I loved it. I am quite a fan of puns.”

“That’s good, because I usually have a lot of them.” He leaned up, daring himself to be bold enough to close that gap once again, and he could feel your lashes tickling his cheeks as you nuzzled into him a little more. “If I kiss you again, will those sparks happen this time, too?”

“If I stop controlling it, they will.”

“Stop controlling it, sweetheart.” He felt you move to nod your affirmations, but dipped his head in time, proud of his own reflexes as he caught your lips, feeling the hand in his hair tighten, and he was so glad he’d decided to grow it out all those years ago, because right now, he was losing all sense of himself in the way your nails would scratch across his scalp, or the delicious burning that flared over his skin for a split second when you pulled on his hair, before you were rubbing it softly, fingers working in tandem timing with your lips, teasing over his own.

That same feeling took up, a sparking that felt like fireworks, like energy surging through him, escaping at his fingertips in every place that he touched you, one palm smoothing along your back to somewhere that was definitely too lose to be respectable, as the other held onto your cheek still. You were taking control, your tongue darting out to trace over his lower lip, bribing him to part them but he needed no convincing, letting your tongue meet his own only a second after you’d made the request, equally breathy and needy noises escaping you both at the slow and wet drag of the muscles over one another.

His lungs were burning, lips beginning to sting as his assault on your mouth continued, his neck straining to hold this angle, and yet the more you kissed him, the more that the hazy feeling of getting to be with you like this raced through his body was the more he became addicted to needing more, chasing a high that he didn’t even know he wanted until now, like an addict finding his next hit.

You seemed to pick up on it all, as though you’d read all of his thoughts, because the second he’d had the lingering thoughts, you were settling yourself across his lap, a leg on either side of his own as you seated yourself down, and he couldn't help the way his hips bucked up a little to meet you, or the way his hand slid down fully to rest on your ass.

After all, as much as he’d gone through the make him grow up emotionally, physically he was still a horny-teen college boy, and you were one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, sitting half-naked in his lap and sucking on his lower lap while doing something with your tongue that was making him feel like he couldn't even breathe properly for how aroused he was.

Maybe you could feel the growing erection underneath of you, maybe you couldn't, but he’d stopped caring about being embarrassed around you about three hours ago when he’d had to tell you all about the time he’d once dropped a condom in Coach’s class in front of the entire classroom, and you’d laughed so much your face had gone red and you’d hidden it form him by pressing into his shoulder.

You were something he felt like he was dreaming up, like any moment now he’d wake up in a small puddle of his own drool with his face pressed into the desk of his lecture hall, the lights turned out and another note left by his kind professor to get more sleep at home, and to lock up when he left, before you were giggling a little at him, pulling away and stealing a few more pecks as you did, and he wondered if you really could read his mind, heat flushing his cheeks.

“Are you reading my mind or something?”

He felt stupid even as he mumbled te words, especially when it only seemed to heighten your entertainment, but you shook your head. “I can’t read your mind, I can just kinda’ sense your mood, I guess. It’s the connection, you were clearly thinking something funny, and I don’t know what it was, but I got a sudden rush of amusement.”

“That’s pretty fucking incredible.” He whispered, letting you peck his mouth a few more times, simply sitting there with puckered lips as he tried not to smile too much, before he was tucking hair away behind your ears and finally you were opening your eyes, and at this point, he really should learn to stop being surprised by new developments with you. “Holy shit, your eyes are glowing!”

“So are yours.” You winked, the bright purple being a shade that was so captivating and beautiful on you that he couldn’t look away, even when you leaned away from him to grab his phone, raising it up to snap a picture for him, and forcing his gaze down to it. Much like you’d said, his eyes were beginning to hint in with a faint purple, the neon shading beginning to drip into his irises and take over from the usual golden-brown that resided there. “You never made out with another witch before?”

He pinched at your ass for your cheeky comment, taking his phone and throwing it away to the side, grinning when you yelped at his painless attack. “I didn’t even know witches really existed before today. Besides, what makes you think I'm one? I had a spark once, but as I said, that died out. Nothing truly magical.”

“I don’t know, you’re having a pretty strong connection with me right now, aren’t you?” Your arms looped around his neck, snuggling in a little closer to him, and he bit back a groan as you shuffled in his lap. “I think you’re underestimating yourself, you just don’t know how to tap into your magic, you have to believe in it to see it.”

“You really think so?”

He was vulnerable and he knew it showed, he’d gone his entire life being unsure as to where all his energy and twitching came from, as to why he’d always felt a draw to the earth; the preserve and the woods, and justice and balance, and why he’d somehow fit into a supernatural world with far more elegance and ease than he ever had the normal one, and maybe this was the explanation. “I really do, Stiles.”

“Will you teach me?”

“I would love to.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and then to the spot below your ear, before flicking his tongue out a little to drag over the sensitive patch that lay there, before moving down your neck. He didn’t want to mark you without your consent, he wasn’t sure what was going to come of all of this and where it would go, but he was more than happy to lick and bite lightly at your skin, finding the sweet spot that made your hips roll down into his own and a sound of need and desperation to leave you that was like music to his ears, before his hips were bucking up to meet you once again.

“Y’know when you said that you could feel what I was feeling?”

“Uh-huh?” You were distracted, your reply seeming somewhat faded and distant, and he chuckled lightly, before making his way back up to your mouth now that you’d both had a chance to catch your breaths once again.

“Does that mean everything?”

“Are you asking if I know just how much you want to fuck me right now? Because yes, I do know.” He choked a little on his breath, your hand in his hair pulling his head back so that you could meet his gaze, your lower lip held between you teeth, flesh going a darker pink, and he longed to be the one biting that lip for you. “Trust me, the sentiment is returned.”

“It is?”

“Oh, yeah.” He wasn’t used to women being so confident with wanting him, being so unashamed of it, or of even wanting him at all. Most of his hook-ups had been slightly drunk make-outs and sloppy grinding, or booty calls and meetings in closets at parties. He got more action than he ever did in high school, he’d finally grown into his limbs and his looks, but that didn’t take away the surprise that still happened every time someone as pretty as you even offered him the time of day.

“Like, right here? Right now?”

“Been thinking about how much I want to ride you on my couch for like an hour and a half, now.” Stiles couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up in his throat, lips parting as you ran a finger over his swollen lips, a cheeky glint flashing over purple eyes as you looked at him.

“You might just be perfect for me.”

“I like the sound of that.”

A toothy smile was offered to you, before he was pulling you back in towards him, hands slipping down to lay resting on your thighs as soon as your lips had found his once again. The heat seemed to have passed, and while the kiss was still completely intoxicating, there was something a little more tender about it, too. It wasn’t nearly as rushed and frantic, the sloppy kisses you’d shared as you learned one another’s ticks had passed, and as your lips worked slowly with his own, Stiles found that he much preferred this kind of kiss.

This was the kind of kiss that he could picture himself sharing with you in many settings. A sleepy, early morning kiss, when you were still between the land of consciousness and the realm of unconsciousness. Or, late nights, when he’d fall asleep while studying, and he would let you drag him to his feet and to bed. Or, simply when he would finish a lecture, or get you coffee, or meet you for dinner. The point was, Stiles already knew he wanted to kiss you at all times of the day, and to hold onto you, and to watch you brew little spells at the stove while holding onto you from behind.

Your lips were wet when you pulled away, eyes sparkling as you looked at him, a bright shade of royal purple, like silk and rich violet on flower petals, and you looked utterly ethereal. “Do you have any idea just how beautiful you are?”

“You’re sweet-talking me.” You teased, bumping the tip of your nose against his, and he shook his head.

“No, I’m not, I’m just being honest with you. I’ve been into you for a long time, even if I didn’t quite have my mind in the right place to actually say it.” You huffed out a little laugh, your eyes averting from his own so that you could try and hide your bashful little expression, but he didn’t miss it.

“Well, I’ve been admiring you a little, too. I should’ve had my deliveries sent to you sooner, if I knew it was going to end like this.” As if to punctuate your words, you rolled your hips down into his, reminding him of the solid erection pressing into his jeans, his fingers digging a little firmer into your skin, and he pushed your shirt up higher, the soft cotton of your panties revealed to him.

“These are just fucking sinful. Do you normally wander around your house in underwear and band-tees?” He tugged at it a little, before daring to tuck his hand underneath the fabric, trailing up, and a poorly-concealed groan left him as he found no further obstructions, fingers closing over one of your breasts, squeezing lightly as he palmed at your chest. “Well, clearly not all of your underwear.”

“I tend to, I keep it warm in here, for all the plants.” Your back arched up into his hand, one of your own closing over his outside of your shirt, as your other held onto his shoulder, fingers leaving crescent-moon shaped marks he was sure, and the rocking of your hips into his own only seemed to increase.

“I’d love to see you in one of my flannels sometime, just like this.”

“Give me your shirt and you’ll see it sooner than you think.” You teased, his brows raising, before he was pulling his hands back just long enough to lean into you, stripping the garment off as best as he could, leaving him in a thin black t-shirt as you took the item from him. He wanted to whine out as you stood up, choosing instead to replace the pressure of your core over his with his hand instead, palming at his cock through the thick denim, and you grinned as you watched him, yet he didn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed.

You stood before him, draping his shirt across his spread knees as he slumped further into the cushions, getting himself comfortable and popping the button on his jeans, swollen lower lip being nibbled as you played with the hem of your shirt. Your hips were swinging to the beat of the song, and then, you raised the garment up and over your head, letting it drop away to the carpet, his jaw dropping as he looked at you.

You picked up his flannel, pulling it up your arms, and leaving it open at the front, just barely covering your tits. You were an angel and also the devil, tempting him to do so many wrong things. Stretching his hands out toward you, he beckoned you back into his lap, an act you were more than happy to take as you bounded over to him, a pep on your few short steps, before you were settling back into his lap.

“Perfect.”

He let his hands find the flaps of the flannel, pulling it open wide enough to be able to admire your tits fully, letting you push your hair back away from your shoulders for his unobstructed view. Sealing one hand around your waist, he dragged you up closer, until you were almost pressed to him fully, before dipping his head down. His tongue dragged over a hardened nipple, taking the taut peak into his mouth and sucking harshly, as your hand wound into his hair. You tugged, roughly, a groan that vibrated along your entire body leaving him and making you shiver, and you made the prettiest little noises above him.

He switches sides, making sure to give the other half of your chest that same kind of attention, leaving wet marks and stinging watches along your skin that would become bright purple marks in the morning to match the colour of your eyes, and he just hoped you kept him around long enough to see them when they did become beautiful and prominent. He wanted to see his good work, he wanted to see the way he got to mark you up and leave his touch all over your body.

“Stiles..”

“I do love how you sound moaning my name, princess, but I’m not sure how much longer I can last when you're making noises like that and grinding yourself all over my cock like this.” You grinned, letting him kiss his way back up your chest and throat until he was taking your lips with his own. Your hands were moving down, tugging at his zipper as far as it would go, hid hips bucking up into his hand as he felt you drag a nail along his covered erection, breathy sounds between you both when you pulled away.

He only had to lift himself up for a moment, before you were tugging at his jeans, helping him to get them just far enough down his thighs for his boxers to be able to follow. His cock was throbbing, painfully hard and desperate for you, leaking precum along his skin, and he gave himself some form of relief. You were watching him, eyes wide as he pumped his length in one hand, the other dipping under your skirt rubbing over your core, and you bundled up your shirt for him.

“Y’know, all those times I thought about us, a quick fuck on your couch wasn’t how I had wanted our first time to be, but then again, I didn’t expect the cute chick across the hall to be a witch, wither, so..”

He used his thumb to drag your panties to the side, your sodden folds revealed to him, and he slipped two fingers into your dripping core with ease. “I’ll let you take it slow next time, I swear, but right now, I’d really like it if you’d fuck me.”

He could only nod, heart skipping a beat at the promise of another time. Your legs shifted, muscles clenching as he forced himself to take his touch away from your core and bringing his fingers up to his mouth, sucking your sweet essence from the thin digits. As you leaned over him, he was sure to line himself up, and then, you were sinking down onto him, your forehead flailing to his as your mouth fell open, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“You’re so fucking big.”

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispered the words, a little breathless and hanging on the edge of his orgasm already, and you seemed just as close, because as you finally sank all the way down and settled into his lap again, he could feel every pulse within your walls as you hugged around him.

It took him a moment, staving off his climax so that he didn’t come just from getting to feel you like this, and you looped your arms around his neck gently to find your purchase. Your nails were scratching lightly at the hairs at the base of his neck, his flannel once again flapping around you, panties pushed to the side to let him have access to your centre, and it was deliciously filthy.

Once you were settled, you circled your hips, a test movement, pleasure spiking in both of your systems and it felt like the temperature in the room was shooting upwards. Stiles could already feel sweat beginning to bead along his skin in a thin layer, and you pressed yourself in closer to him. Each time you shifted your hips you were moving a little more, every rock of your body into his, you were pulling yourself up just a little higher to be able to drop yourself back down onto his cock, stretching and squeezing around him.

You felt like velvet, slick and warm as you sheathed around him. You were precise and deliberate, and he couldn't help the wonton sounds that were leaving you with every drop down onto his cock, before you were taking him up to see stars every time, leaving the both of you resting in the clouds. Panted breaths, a scream in the back of your throat that tried to break out each time as you gave him broken moans of his name, picking up your pace further and further each time.

Once you were stable above him, you were moving with purpose, fast and quick as you rode him, gaining more confidence each time, and he was gripping you so tightly that there would be fingerprints all over your hips in the morning. He helped you go, lifting you up each time, only to pull you back down into his lap, thrusting up with a weak effort to meet you, but feeling you go wild each time. That same energy was back, crackling with more force, surging through him like nothing he had ever felt.

Stiles was in college, he was away from home and the weight of being the Sheriff’s kid for the first time, and he had experimented. He’d gotten drunk, and high, and hungover, but this was a whole new kind of thrill; it was like lighting up with fireworks and adrenaline all at once, like creating a bond with another person, and a tingling spread throughout his entire body as your magic bonded with his own. He hadn't felt this kind of singing in his blood since the day he’d managed to finish the circle with the mountain ash back when he was only sixteen, or breaking through the wild hunt barrier at almost eighteen.

These kind of thrills were rare for him, but they’d never been this strong, and as the two of you moved as one in the most intimate way that two people could, your mouth coming up to claim his as you silenced yourself and him, growing louder and more desperate as you went, he felt that final high beginning to build.

“‘M so close, honey.” His voice had taken on that same kind of scratchy rasp that he had in the mornings before he even broke into his day, “Oh, God, keep goin’.”

He knew his words were beginning to grow slurred, and he could barely buck his hips up into you. As everything within his body began to light up, he felt like all of his muscles were going lifeless, his body going boneless, because the heat was consuming him. He couldn't hold it back, he’d been waiting for so long to feel you this way, and his lips could barely even move back against your own as he went slack-jawed, exploding within your tight heat.

The send that he was shooting over the edge, you were following right after him, crying out his name into his mouth as you kept going against him, until you couldn't clumping down into his body as you trembled, and Stiles felt as though you’d milked absolutely everything from him that he had to offer. There was a crackling along his skin from everywhere that your fingertips smoothed over, sliding down from his shoulders so that you could press your cheek to the spot instead, fanning breaths rushing over his neck as you tried to catch your breath, racing heart just like his was.

You didn’t even bother to move from him, letting him throb within your walls with each flutter you made and each shift, and if you kept it up, he was sure he’d be ready for a second round, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he had that in him. Resting his head back against the edge of the couch, he let you lift yourself up and off of him finally, your legs shaking as you stood, offering him a weak smile as he took in your through fucked out state, before taking wobbly steps away from him, and disappearing down the hall.

He heard a door close, assuming you’d gone to the bathroom, and he leaned over to the coffee table to snatch up a few tissues, to clean himself up with, before sorting himself out too. He did the bare minimum, not even bothering to do up his jeans once he had them pulled back up, but he stretched out along the length of the couch to lay down, an arm popped under his head, and a little laugh on his lips as he did.

He took a moment to glance around, not missing the way that the plants all seemed to be blooming particularly beautifully, seeming more alive than ever. As he lifted up a hand before his face, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together, a spark travelled between the tips, and he felt a little in awe just at the sight of it.

“It's pretty incredible, right?”

He startled, jumping a little, before turning to look at you and propping himself up on his elbows as you lingered in the doorway. You had changed, your hair pulled back and out of your face, missing a few odd strands and you’d buttoned up his flannel along your body, mismatched and hanging unevenly, but still adorable. You took slower steps over to him, waiting for a second as you stood beside him, before he was lifting his arms and making it clear to you that you could lay with him, a smile gracing both of your faces as you flattened yourself along him, cheek pressed over his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist.

“You like feeling your magic, then?”

He lifted his palm, holding it to yours and admiring the final dying flares he saw, as the energy began to dissipate and absorb into his body and yours fully. “I’m not used to feeling special myself. I’ve always been a behind the scenes, research, kinda’ guy. I’m not used to being one of the main players.”

“Oh, hush. You told me your story, you were most definitely a key player, Stiles.” He shrugged under you, letting you cross your arms over his chest and prop your chin on them.

“Yeah, but I never really felt that way, and now I feel like I have something to offer.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips over his jaw with a sweet kiss, and he felt like he could most definitely get used to this feeling. Can I meet them?”

“My pack?”

You nodded, seeming a little shy now, and joy raced through him at the fact that you saw enough of a future with him to want to meet his friends an get to know them, and to once again be able to be completely open and honest with everyone, never having to hide anything from anyone, and being able to let you fully and wholly into his life. It was a surprise, because the more he’d thought about his future late at night when lying alone in his bed, he was so sure he’d never be able to really settle down, because he could never let someone in on his life in every single way, but with you, that wasn’t a problem.

“I would absolutely love that.”

“Really?” You were studying him carefully, trying to ensure that he was telling the truth, and he gave you the most honey look that he possibly could, before lifting his head to meet your lips as he leaned in.

Soft and delicate, like a kiss that was shared between deep romance and longtime lovers, and he rested a hand on your cheek, holding you to him, and rolling you to the side, to sandwich you between the couch and his body Your thigh came up to rest over his legs, his palm slipping from your face to rest on your leg, drawing patterns on the skin until you pulled away to breathe, lips detaching from his as you whined a little. You stayed close, though, a soft look etched onto your features;

“I just want to meet a few more supernatural people, and get to know others who I don’t have to hide from.”

“Well, you definitely don’t have to hide from them, and you’ll love them, just as much as they’ll love you. We’re a pretty odd group, you’ll fit right in.”

“You’re right about that ‘odd bunch’ thing. I’ve never met a banshee, or a - what did you call it? - werecoyote.” That was an undeniable truth, your head coming back down to rest on his chest as he shrugged, unable to deny that you were right. “Your wolves sound nice, too. All the other wolves I’ve met have been overly territorial and closed off.”

“Well, Derek used to be like that, but we’ve pulled him around a little. He is still broody, though.” You laughed at his joke, a sound that made his heart burst open slightly and bleed with affection, all for you, as you continued to take more and more pieces of his heart with every act, and he was falling in love with you faster than he’d ever known was possible. “Don’t take notice of any of his lurking, by the way, it’s his twisted way of showing concern and care.”

“I’ll remember that, and if I ever catch him hiding behind a tree, I’ll know that it’s real friendship.”

“He does that, I’m serious, don’t underestimate him. I think my dad arrested him for stalking, once.”

“I think your dad would be who I am most scared to meet.” A fond tone in your voice, before he was pressing a kiss to your forehead, humming under his breath.

“He’ll love you the most, don’t worry.”

Silence fell between you both then, and he busied himself with tracing illegible drawings into your skin, simply enjoying feeling so close to you. It was irrationally domestic, and you were the final piece in his college life and college experience that was missing. Despite not being a wolf, he was unequivocally part of a wolf pack, and being surrounded so closely by such a tight-knit group of friends for those years had made him dependent on company and reliability, and he had been feeling so alone since leaving for college.

Scott had Malia, Lydia had rekindled things with Jordan, and even Derek had been (begrudgingly, to begin) hooked up with a deputy by his father, and they’d been on a few dates.

The last time he’d been home, he’d felt like a fifth, seventh, or was it ninth wheel, when Liam and Hayden were taken into account? He had been feeling awfully lonely lately, and he was glad to finally find someone that fit him perfectly, matching him like a glove.

“When I do introduce you to my friends, my pack, y’know, and my dad..”

You lifted your head, a little crease across your cheek from the fold in his shirt, and he rubbed the spot with his thumb gently, an attempt to remove the mark. “Yeah?”

“What should I introduce you as?”

“A witch.” You deadpanned, and he knew immediately that you’d clearly know exactly what he meant, but were playing with him, and he pouted, fixing you with a mock glare, before you were laughing to yourself over your joke, something so undeniably cute that he couldn't even pretend to be mad about it. “What do you want to introduce me as?”

Nudging your jaw a little with his, he puckered his lips, tempting you down to kiss him, and you were more than happy to press a series of sweet and short kisses to his lips. “I’d really like to formally claim you to be my girlfriend?”

He mumbled the words into your mouth, feeling your lips flick up at the edges in a smile as you gave him a kiss that was a little more firm, a little more loving and powerful, before whispering your reply; “Then we’re on the same page, because I’d like to introduce you to my coven back home as my boyfriend.”

“You have a coven?” He pulled back, a gasp of shock, and you giggled at him.

“That I do. Maybe I should tell you about them?”

“You absolutely should.” He insisted, his craving for knowledge taking over, and he couldn't have been more glad to whatever deity was watching over benevolently that he’d taken the choice to stay the first time knowledge had been offered, because it had led him to where he was now.

“It might take all night, maybe you should go and get a change of clothes. Get comfortable.”

“Is that an invitation to stay the night?” You only nodded, letting him roll you back over onto your back as he kissed at your neck. “I’ll buy you take out if you cuddle me later?”

“Cuddling and dinner? Glad I get to call you my boyfriend, now.”

“Not nearly as glad as I am to call you my girlfriend. My little witch.” His lips sealed over yours, silencing your laughs against his mouth as you teased him for the nickname, and he pinched a little at your sides. The mistletoe overhead grew a little more, a few of the berries dropping away and bouncing off of his back as the plant became bolder, just like the rest, that energy beginning to grow once again, as you got lost in each other’s touch.

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x reader smut #stiles stilinski/reader #stiles stilinski/reader smut #stiles stilinski teen wolf #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien teen wolf #dylan obrien stiles stilinski #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien

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softlass27 · 2 years

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may your days be merry and bright

Robron Week Christmas Special: Day 1 - Gift shopping

AO3 link here

“Robert.” Aaron tried to keep his voice stern even as the guilty look on his husband’s face made him want to snigger. He pulled off his coat and stepped further into the room. “This has got to stop.”

“It’s just a few bits.”

“I can see the size of the bags, you idiot, that’s more than a few bits!”

Robert sighed and released the door to the messy cupboard that he’d been desperately trying to force shut as soon as Aaron came home, letting the bags of presents spill out onto the floor.

“How many shopping trips is that now?”

“My meeting finished early, I just went for a wander afterwards.”

“I thought we said we’d got all Seb’s presents sorted.”

“We have but – ”

“We got everything on his letter to Santa, even that LEGO pirate ship I nearly had to fight that old lady for in Smyths.”

“I know but – ”

“And we’ve got him heaps more, he won’t be able to move for new toys on the big day.”

“I didn’t realise getting a few extra presents was a crime now,” Robert snapped.

Aaron blew out a frustrated breath. His husband had been tetchy for days now. Whether it was the stress of the festive season or something else, he wasn’t sure, but it was starting to get on his nerves.

“It’s not, but come on. If you carry on like this, he’ll end up spoiled.”

“Well if we can’t spoil him at Christmas, then when can we?”

“Okay fine, but how much is this even costing? If we go any more over budget on presents we’ll be havin’ nothing but sprouts for Christmas dinner.”

Robert’s eyes darkened. “I didn’t realise there was a spending limit on our son’s happiness.”

Aaron froze, taken aback by the sudden iciness in his tone. Up until this point, he’d thought the argument they’d been having had been a fairly mild one, more exasperated bickering than anything else. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“I – what? That’s not – what’re you even talking about?”

“Forget it.” Robert marched rapidly towards the door, grabbing his coat. “I’m going out.”

“Out where?”

“For a walk.

“Robert, hang on a – ”

He was cut off by the slam of the door. Aaron glanced between it and the pile of presents still on the floor, still not entirely sure what had just happened.

****

Robert came back an hour later. He edged in through the front door, head bowed and his tail between his legs. He stopped short at the sight of Aaron sitting on the rug, surrounded by wrapping paper.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly, gesturing to the pile of toys that Aaron had grabbed from the cupboard and was steadily working his way through wrapping. “I would’ve done it later.”

“It’s fine,” Aaron shrugged and stuck down another piece of sellotape. “Thought I’d get it out the way while Seb’s at nursery.”

“Fancy a brew?”

“Go on, then.”

He continued wrapping while Robert went to the kitchen, both of them silent until Robert came back and sat on the floor next to him with two mugs in hand.

“Here you go.”

“Ta.”

Aaron dropped the scissors he’d been using to take one mug, arching an eyebrow at Robert as he did so.

“So, a ‘spending limit on our son’s happiness’?” Robert’s face turned sheepish. “Bit dramatic innit?”

“Sorry, I know I was being a knob.”

“I’ll let you off – ” Aaron took a sip of tea. “ – as long as you tell me what the hell that was all about.”

Robert grimaced, but nodded in resignation. When he didn’t reply immediately, Aaron resumed his wrapping, deciding he might as well keep busy while he waited for him to gather his thoughts. Past experience had taught him it might take Robert a minute or two to start talking.

“Y’know,” Robert eventually said, clearing his throat. “The last Christmas we had with Mum before she died… ”

Aaron’s hands stilled for a second, surprised. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been that.

“Yeah?”

“We were hard up that year. I mean, we were always hard up, always short on something no matter what season it was, but that Christmas it was especially bad. You know Jack Sugden, the man didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘savings’.”

Robert shook his head, looking unimpressed.

“So that year, Dad told us that there wouldn’t be any proper gifts. They got a few toys for Vic; since she was only little and still believed in Santa, they had to come up with something for her. But me and Andy had to go without, they couldn’t afford anything else. All we got were a couple of scarves and jumpers that didn’t even fit.”

Even now, Robert’s nose wrinkled in derision and Aaron’s mouth twitched. He could picture Robert’s teenage self turning his nose up at a poorly-made Christmas jumper in the same way he did now at some of the cheap clothes Aaron occasionally bought from Primark.

“It wasn’t surprising, I knew the farm was struggling and I was old enough to get that they couldn’t be spending money on presents when we were barely managing the rent. But I hated it, hated other kids at school picking on me for being poorer than them, hated knowing when we went back in the new year I’d have to pretend I got something cool when everyone started talking about what they got. So I was in a right sulk; even on Christmas morning I was miserable, drove Dad mad with my whinging.”

The sour look on Robert’s face suddenly dimmed, replaced with a faint smile.

“Then out of nowhere, Mum surprised me and Andy with a present. It was this new video game we’d both been dying to play – ”

“You wanted a video game?” Aaron interrupted him, holding his hands up when Robert shot him an exasperated look. “Sorry, carry on.”

“As I was saying. Andy thought Dad must’ve only been joking when he said we weren’t getting anything. That he was in on the surprise, y’know? But I knew better, I could tell by the look on his face that he'd known nothing about it. He was furious.”

“Because she’d spent money on you?”

“More like wasted money on us, in his eyes. I could hear them arguing about it in the kitchen; even when she told him she’d got it cheap, he still wasn’t having it. Whether he was more annoyed about her spending money or that she’d gone behind his back, I don’t know. Either way, she’d been so pleased with herself for managing to get ahold of that one present for us, but there he was ready to hit the roof. He had to ruin it, it was like he couldn’t help himself.”

Robert sighed and set his mug aside, leaning back against the sofa. Aaron abandoned the wrapping and joined him, their shoulders pressed together.

“He did calm down in the end, cheered up a bit and we had a decent day. It actually ended up being one of the best Christmases I’d have for a long time – not that I knew it then. But I didn’t forget how angry he’d been about something so small… and I knew I never wanted to be like him. I’d already decided I didn’t want to be a farmer, I wanted a normal job that paid well and massive flat in the city… and a flash car, of course.”

He shot Aaron a small grin, which he returned with a roll of his eyes. Some things never changed.

“I just wanted to be like everyone else. I didn’t want to have to worry about affording stuff like Christmas anymore, y’know?”

Aaron knew. For all he teased Robert about his expensive taste and love of shopping, his husband never failed to make sure they always put something in their savings account every month, and he was meticulous when it came to investments and budgeting. He always made their finances work even during the rainiest of days.

Aaron had once thought it was a lingering obsession with holding onto the wealth (and the power that came with it) he’d had with the Whites, but he knew better now. Robert liked the feeling of control and security that came with having money in the bank. He liked being able to provide, not just for himself but for Aaron and Seb, too. And for Victoria, Harry an Diane, if they needed it.

“Anyway, I almost forgot about that day, didn’t think about it for years. Maybe because it was the last one with Mum, I don’t know. Then Seb was born. And then a few weeks later it was Christmas and Rebecca wasn't letting me see him, they wouldn’t even let me give him the presents I’d got him and then I was hit by their flippin' car and – you know the rest.”

Aaron fought back a shudder. He didn’t want to think about that Christmas, that terrible Christmas when he almost lost Robert any more than he had to.

“I dunno why but when I was in hospital, I thought about Christmas on the farm again, remembered Mum giving me a video game and Dad being so damn resentful about it. I thought about a lot of things… ”

His gaze drifted away, eyes almost glazed over like he was seeing something Aaron couldn’t. He’d never quite known what Robert went through when he spent that Christmas in a hospital bed, but he did know that he’d never been quite the same after. Something in him changed forever.

“I promised myself that by next Christmas, I’d have Seb in my life. And that every year from then on I was always gonna find a way to to spend it with him – Whites be damned – and I’d always have presents to give him, make a fuss of him. No matter what was going on in my life, he’d never feel like I didn’t care or that I couldn’t be bothered or that – that he was an inconvenience. I wanted to make sure that when he got older and remembered Christmas, all his memories would be good ones.

“And then… when next Christmas came Rebecca had just taken him away to Liverpool. Yeah, we got to see him and give him presents the week after but it wasn’t the same, he wasn’t with us on the day and for the buildup, not like we’d hoped he’d be. And then the next year was the same and the year after that, and now this year… ”

This year, Rebecca was gone. She’d died in April and they’d suddenly become Seb’s sole carers once again – for good this time. Seb had been understandably quiet and withdrawn when he’d first come to live at the Mill full-time, and it had taken weeks – months – of showering with as much love and attention as they could to bring him back out of his shell. By the end of summer he’d almost returned to his normal happy self, so Aaron supposed they must’ve done something right.

“Now Seb’s here and he’s not going anywhere and it’s Christmas and I can finally keep the promise I made and – ”

Robert frowned and fell silent, biting his lip.

“And now the pressure’s getting to you a bit?”

“A bit.” His head lolled against the sofa so he was looking Aaron in the eye. “I’m overthinking, aren’t I?”

Aaron sighed fondly and kissed the space between Robert’s eyebrows until the deep lines there disappeared.

“You tend to do that.”

“I just need to get this right, I want it to be perfect for him.”

“It will be perfect. And not because he’ll be drowning in new toys – though I bet he won’t say no to any of them – but because he’ll be here with us, and Vic and Harry and Diane. Spending Christmas with the people who love you, that’s what really matters this time of year.”

“You been going to Charles’s sermons when I’ve not been looking?”

“Shut up. I’m just saying, you’re already going above and beyond to make sure he’s happy this Christmas, just like you’ve been doing all year. He’ll have those all good memories you want for him – we all will – so stop bein’ so hard on yourself, yeah?” He nudged Robert playfully. “For our bank account’s sake if nothing else.”

Robert smiled and nodded, slumping down so his head was resting on Aaron’s shoulder.

“Okay.”

They sat like that for a few minutes, before Aaron kissed Robert’s hair and gently pushed him away.

“Speaking of his lordship, it’s nearly pickup time.”

“Alright.” Robert got to his feet. “Why don’t I go? Give you time to finish wrapping and get all this stuff hidden before we get home.”

“Er, if you think you’re not finishing all this off yourself – ” Aaron gestured to the mess of half-wrapped gifts scattered on the rug. “You’ve got another think coming.”

“But – ”

“You bought ‘em, you’re wrapping them.” Aaron grabbed his coat and quickly kissed him goodbye. “See you in a bit!”

He could hear Robert’s grumbling all the way out the door.

****

Christmas morning in the Mill was a noisy one that year. Seb tore through his presents like a tiny whirlwind, shouting with delight at each one. The living room looked like a bomb site within the first 10 minutes but Aaron couldn’t bring himself to care, his son’s excitement too infectious. Robert was obviously feeling the same, if the dopey smile on his face while he watched Seb open his gifts was anything to go by.

“A kitchen!” Seb yelled at the kitchen play set he’d just unwrapped with Robert’s help. He leaned back against Robert’s chest and grinned up at him. “Daddy look, it’s a kitchen!”

He loved watching Robert cook and helping him bake in the kitchen, so they’d gotten him his own child-sized version, complete with a light-up oven and hob.

“Wow, you can do all your cooking with this, eh?” Robert pushed the box in Aaron’s direction with a smirk. “Another one for Daddy Aaron to put together.”

Aaron sighed at the Assembly Required sticker on the box and added it to the pile of toys he’d have to construct before Seb could actually start playing with them, before reaching under the tree to pull another present out.

“One for you,” he said, passing it to Robert.

They’d planned to exchange their own gifts once Seb had finished working his way through his, but he couldn’t wait any longer to give Robert this one.

Robert looked at him curiously, before taking the present from him and tearing away the wrapping paper. Once he caught a glimpse of what was inside, his mouth fell open slightly.

“Wait, are these – ?”

“Yep.”

Seb abandoned the new fire engine he’d been poking at in favour of wandering over to Robert, looking down at the present in his lap with interest.

“What is it?”

“They’re… video games, mate.”

“Classic ones, from way back when your dad was a kid,” Aaron said, leaning over to ruffle Seb’s hair before smiling at Robert. “They’re all ones that’ve been updated, remastered, whatever. I didn’t know which one your mum got you so I just went for a bunch of them and hoped for the best.”

As Seb lost interest and went back to his own presents, Robert turned each game over slowly. “God, I remember all of these.” He stopped when he got to the third box. “I think… yeah, this was the one.”

Aaron blew out a relieved breath. “Thank god for that.”

“And the rest are all ones I wanted but never got. I can’t believe you actually… ” Robert looked up and grinned widely at him, the dimples on his face almost childlike. “These are amazing, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Aaron grinned back and kissed him. “And you don’t even have to share them with Andy this time.”

“Best part about it. I’ll let you have a go, though."

Aaron laughed and gave his arm a light punch. “You’d better.”

“Dads!’ Seb shouted impatiently as he rummaged under the tree, apparently fed up of waiting for them to finish being soppy. “More presents!”

#rwxmas #me using a fluffy christmas prompt to indulge in some robert feels? more likely than you'd think #and of course it's not christmas unless i'm killing rebecca off just for the hell of it 😇#robron #my writing

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years

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VALERIE - Part V. (Harry Styles)

happy sunday loves!! part 5 is here, buckle up bc we are getting down to business here!! thank you so much for the nice feedbacks, it’s always so moving and inspiring to read your thoughts, so please keep them coming! even if it’s just some gibberish rambling, those are the best haha! now let’s jump right into part 5, we are heading into the christmas mood and im so excited for yall to read this part!! enjoy!

word count: 6.1k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

By the time November nears its end you officially become a couple with Marcus. It happens gradually, two more dates follow your first one, and then on the third one you agree to test the waters of the possibilities between the two of you exclusively.

Marcus is a great guy. He is funny, caring and smart, always listens to you and cares for even the smallest details about you when you’re talking. He is great company and never fails to make you feel appreciated and wanted. Exactly what you’ve been looking for in a guy, Rosa really hit the nail on the head this time.

You easily fall into a habit with him. Fridays are for date nights, sometimes you go for little trips outside the city on Sundays and he never misses a chance to send you flowers throughout the week. He is just the type of guy that’s always there to cheer you up with something whenever the days start to weigh down on your shoulders.

You even have dinner together with Rosa and Steven one Saturday evening, Rosa keeps giving you those ‘I told you so’ eyes whenever Marcus kisses you shortly or places his hand to your waist. You mostly just roll your eyes at her, not wanting to make a big deal out of the two of you, but Rosa knows how long you’ve been trying to find someone.

What’s a surprising turn is that you start seeing Harry more. Intentionally. You have no idea how it happens, but it does and you’re not mad about it. Some days you grab lunch together whenever he is in the neighborhood, some days you go shopping with him when his sister doesn’t have the time. Harry is a problematic shopper, he takes a long time to decide on clothes so usually you are the one that forces him to choose and finish before all shops close.

When he has had a rough week and you happened to call him for whatever reason, the two of you agree to meet up for drinks at his place, then end up playing UNO for hours, slowly emptying out two bottles of wine.

It’s starting to get harder to imagine what it was like when things weren’t like this with him. When you were getting anxiety from just the thought of seeing him or having to talk to him. It’s like the both of you are showing a different version of yourselves to each other and you have to admit you enjoy being friends with him.

He keeps his habit of teasing you and making jokes about you though, but you don’t mind it. He is not doing it in a mean way with the attempt to piss you off, but to make you laugh and start a playful war where you both throw insults at each other until one of you runs out of it and just starts laughing. You feel a kind of dynamic building between you and him that has a way better effect on you than the continuous killing you were doing before.

You can tell Rosa is thankful for the change as well. Whenever she sees you interact with Harry without making a grimace or have that face that screams how badly you want to hit him, she is relieved that she has one less thing to worry about and Valerie will have two amazing godparents who even like each other.

Christmas is always a big parade in your family. Your mom and your aunts always want to celebrate together so in the past few years it has become a tradition to rent a place out that has enough space for the whole extended family and spend three days there from the 23rd to the 25th. This year your dad found a huge cabin in the woods with ten bedrooms and seven bathrooms, just the perfect size for you all. It’s gonna be your parents, Rosa and Steven with Valerie, Aunt Monica, Aunt Teresa with Uncle Andrew, your cousin Etta, her husband Joe and their two kids, your other cousin Lily with her husband Jeremy and their daughter, and lastly you and Harry. Though your mom urged you to invite Marcus along as well, he could join you for longer than a dinner, since he was already set to fly home to his family.

“You sure he can’t stay for at least the first night?” you mom asks on the phone one evening. You’re stirring the sauce in the pan. holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder so you have both of your hands free.

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s fine, he can come for dinner and then leave later.”

“I get it, but it would have been fun if he stayed,” she sighs, clearly disappointed that she couldn’t change what’s already set. If you’re being honest you don’t mind that Marcus is not staying for the night. You haven’t been dating for that long, you feel like it would be a little uncomfortable to have him there the whole time. A dinner is perfectly fine as a starter, since he hasn’t met anyone else from your family other than Rosa and Steven.

“Anyway,” she sighs moving on, “Have you figured it out how you’re gonna get there?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ll tag along with someone.”

“Well, I think you should ask Harry. Everyone else is pretty packed already. Rosa and Steven won’t have any extra space with Valerie this year.”

You nod, even though she can’t see you. These past years Rosa always offered you a ride for the holidays, but even when they brought her over for just one night their car was jam-packed. No way you’re gonna fit in there so you are left with Harry since Marcus can only come in the afternoon.

“Sure, I’ll ask him.”

You shoot him a text that day and he replies right away that you’re welcomed in his car, though he won’t be able to take you back since he is leaving early in the morning on the 25th since he is flying back to the UK to his family. It’s fine, you think, you’ll just probably just tag along with aunt Monica back to the city, she always gets her a car for these occasions. Though it’s not your ideal option, she is not the best partner for rides, because she is a fan of smoking in the car, but you don’t have much of a choice.

“I’ll call you when I leave, okay?” Marcus tells you on the morning of the 23rd. It’s early, barely seven, but he is up because he needs to work a little today and you are finishing up packing since Harry will be here in an hour to pick you up.

“Sure. Drive safe,” you huff sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at your suitcase that’s still not closed, clothes are sticking out on the side and you’re sure you’ll have to sit on it to pull the zipper.

“See you later,” Marcus says before you end the call.

It’s rather comical how you try to close the suitcase but you only care about the fact that you eventually succeed. Only minutes before eight you are packed and ready so when you get Harry’s text that he is outside you can leave right away.

Seeing you with your big suitcase he hops out of the car and rushes to help you.

“How long are you planning to stay, Y/N?” he chuckles lifting the bag up and you just shrug your shoulders with a smirk. You’ve alway been a heavy packer, no need to try to cover it up.

Harry throws your stuff into the back of the car as you take the passenger seat. His phone is hooked to the car, a playlist of his own playing gently through the speakers and you’re surprised to catch on the Christmas feeling in the songs.

“Are you in the spirit?” you ask when he gets into the car.

“Like to set the mood ahead,” he chuckles starting the car and off you go.

Ridiculous to think about it, but it’s actually the first time you sit in the same car with Harry or see him drive even. The way you two used to be was not quite ideal to have you locked up in such a small place as a car. But now you have nothing against spending the almost hour long drive with him.

“Can you pull out the navigation when I leave the highway? I’m not sure where exactly I need to head,” he asks you, eyes fixed on the road ahead of him and nodding you open the app on your phone so his can keep on playing the music without the voice of the navigation interrupting it.

“Excited to spend your first Christmas with us?” you ask. Though Harry was there at several family events, it’s his first Christmas since becoming Valerie’s godfather.

“I am,” he chuckles, nodding, hands gripping the wheel gently. He is a natural driver, easily working the car, the kind you feel completely safe next to. As Baby It’s Cold Outside comes on a smile stretches across your lips as you start gently bop your head to the song. “I’ve heard crazy stuff about Christmases at your family,” he adds glancing in your way for a second.

“Like what?”

“I remember when Steven told me about his first Christmas with your family. You remember that?”

Searching in your memories you tried to remember when was the first time Rosa brought Steven along. They dated for two years before they got married so it’s been about five years since then, but as you think hard the memory of that specific year pops into your head making you laugh as you nod.

“Oh, yes. The year Aunt Monica almost burned the Airbnb down,” you sigh grinning at the memory. She brought some special kind of cigars that year that were told to be curiosities from somewhere fancy, but they ended up the literal worst quality, flaming bits were falling out them all the time when she would smoke one, almost making the rug catch on fire wherever she went. Best thing is that she was already drunk on the liquor so she didn’t even notice, there was always a person on Aunt Monica duty, following her around, making sure nothing burnt down.

“Steven said he had a moment when he thought about bailing,” Harry tells you and you gasp, because that’s new information.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but like only for a split second after your dad walked in on him naked in the bathroom. That was kind of the last straw. Luckily Rosa could convince him to stay. Guess it all worked out at the end.” Harry smiles as he stares ahead of him.

You can’t imagine a version where Rosa and Steven don’t end up together. They met through a mutual friend not long after Rosa had a nasty breakup with her scumbag ex. Steven was there to put her back together and be her partner as she found herself again. The change and positive impact he had on her could be seen every day and you were so thankful to him for helping your sister find her way out of such a dark place in her life. It didn’t take them too long to start dating and he proposed a little more than a year later. You still remember how Rosa was screaming in the phone when she called you that evening telling you that Steven proposed. They are quite literally a match made in heaven. It’s been your goal in life to find this person in your life though you haven’t had much luck with men so far. Ironically, if you were in a room with every man you were ever involved with in any kind of way, Harry would be the only one you’d want to talk with. If you had to make this exact same choice just months ago you would have chosen to run out screaming.

“Maybe this year it’s your turn to get horrified from us,” you laugh, sinking down a little in your seat as you adjust the seat belt. You’re still quite far away from the cabin, you might as well make yourself comfortable.

“I think there’s not much that I haven’t witnessed yet. I was walked in on at the bathroom once too, but it was your cousin, Etta.”

“When did that happen?” you ask with a heartfelt laugh.

“I think it was last summer at one of your nieces’ birthday party. Luckily everything was already tucked away when she basically barged in.”

“She didn’t miss much,” you tease him with a smirk and your witty comment catches him by surprise.

“Are you saying my dick is not imposing enough to be worthy of peeking?” he asks with raised eyebrows and you’re happy he is driving. His intimidating look would already burn right into your skin by now, but he is forced to watch the road instead.

“I mean, if you want to put it that way…” you continue, but a laugh escapes your lips.

“Take that back, Y/N,” he orders, sneaking a hard look at you before turning back ahead, but you can see the small smile hiding on his lips.

“Or what?”

“Or you might find yourself in a war you don’t want to be involved in,” he warns you, but his words don’t quite have the effect on you he wanted. Because in a heartbeat you find yourself feeling… excited? Thrilled? Even curious about his means behind his words.

“Wouldn’t want to lie, so…” Pretending like you’re sorry you shrug your shoulders as Harry gives you a look that makes your stomach churn. Now either you are gonna have some fun teasing each other or… you just threw yourself into the arms of the Devil himself. Either way, you’re certain Harry won’t leave it in that.

Turning your head to your window you can’t keep your smile contained as you think of the fact that how big of a lie it was. Harry is surely not a guy who should ever worry about any aspect of his manhood. You’re talking from experience.

***

The cabin is absolutely gorgeous, just the perfect place for a cozy family holiday. Hidden from the busy roads with a secure gate and tall trees on both sides, the back of it is facing a majestic view of the valley and the evergreen covered hill in the distance. With an interior straight from the pages of a magazine, you need just a few moments to adjust to your surroundings upon arriving.

“I saved a nice room for you, Harry!” your mother gushes the moment she sees the two of you walk through the front door. You huff in annoyance.

“And what about me?”

Harry chuckles giving you a smug grin. “Guess you’re just second after me.”

“It’s his first Christmas with us, he deserves the better room,” your mom shushes at you, making your eyes roll instantly. It’s still hard to believe Harry has this kind of charm over most people.

After greeting everyone who is already there, your dad, Aunt Teresa and Etta with her family, your mom walks the two of you down one of the hallways that leads to several bedrooms. She stops at the last door with an excited grin on her face as she opens it revealing the bedroom behind it.

You instantly understand why she thought this is the best one. The view is absolutely breathtaking, the gentle noon light is flowing into the room through the floor to ceiling windows, the king sized bed facing them so when you wake up in the morning the first thing you see is the endless sea of evergreens on the side of the hill. Not to mention the room has its own bathroom, not many of the other rooms are blessed with that. There’s a spacious shower that has enough space for at least three people in there and it’s one of those fancy ones that can make you feel like you’re having a shower in the middle of a jungle, mood lights and bluetooth speakers attached to it.

“No fucking way Harry is getting this room!” you gasp as you look around, taking in the luxure your mother is willing to hand over to him.

“Jealous, much?” he smirks, throwing his sports bag to the bed already ruining the neatly made sheets. He does not deserve this.

“Mom!” you huff turning to her, but she has made her mind up already.

“Your room is nice too, don’t worry Honey. Let Harry have this one!”

“I really can’t believe you are taking his side,” you grumble under your breath, folding your arms on your chest as you take one last look at the stunning view.

“Come on, Y/N. He is a guest!”

“He is not! You said it yourself he is family now!” you retort and Harry just laughs behind you, so you shoot him a murderous look over your shoulder, that just fuels his entertainment.

“Don’t be silly. Your room is the second one on the right from here,” she smiles at you. “We are gonna take a walk around once everyone arrives, so get settled by then!” she informs you before walking out.

“Hey,” Harry’s soft voice makes you turn around. “You can have the room if you want.”

Your eyebrows rise at the kind gesture, it’s very not like him, even now in your friendly state, so it’s quite odd that he is willing to switch rooms with you.

“No need,” you shake your head grabbing the handle of your suitcase that you abandoned at the door.

“You sure? It doesn’t matter where I’m sleeping, really.”

“I’m not gonna deal with my mother’s scolding if she finds out I took your room, so you can totally stay.”

Harry chuckles as you head out, but stop at the door to have one last word with him. “Though I might occupy your bathroom, that shower looks nice.”

“All yours,” he grins before you walk out.

***

By 11 am everyone arrives and the once quiet cabin is now buzzing from life, children running around, Valerie’s babbling shoots through the spacious living area where Rosa set her crib up, your mother is already making preparations for dinner while most of the men are circled around the pool table having a beer since no one has to drive for the rest of the day.

“When is Marcus arriving?” Rosa asks, eyes on Valerie who is absolutely destroying something that once were an elephant maybe, but she’s been ruthless with the poor animal, chewing and throwing it around all the time, so it’s not just a grey, fuzzy mess.

“Sometime before dinner. He has some work to finish,” you tell her pulling your legs under yourself on the comfy couch.

“And explain again, why isn’t he staying for the night?” she turns to you with a puzzled look.

“Because he is going home to his family early in the morning tomorrow.”

“Okay, but he could have just left from here, didn’t he?”

“It’s… complicated. It’s better if he just goes back home tonight and then leaves from there in the morning.”

What you leave out of the whole explanation is that you didn’t really invite him to stay the night as well. Sounds horrible and ridiculous but you didn’t think you’d have felt comfortable with him staying. You’ve been dating for only barely more than a month and though things are going well, you felt like starting with just a dinner would be a better idea. Marcus didn’t question why you didn’t offer him to stay, it seemed like he was fine with just coming and then going after dinner.

Does this make you a bad girlfriend? Maybe, but you value your comfort and feelings more than to ruin your favorite holiday with your family.

Just as you mom said, once everyone is settled in their rooms for the upcoming three days, the whole gang dresses up to have a walk around taking the welcoming little path that runs around the cabin and is smooth enough for Valerie’s carriage as well. Your nieces and nephew are quick to surround Harry and nag him to join them at the front, exploring the woods surrounding the path. It seems like he doesn’t mind it and gladly takes part in the adventure, also secretly looking after them so their parents can have a break and enjoy the stroll in hopes the walk tires the kids out enough that they’ll willingly go to bed in the evening instead of whining to stay up late.

You’re walking with Etta next to you as she tells you about Hannah’s latest dance competition when you spot that Harry and Oliver, your nephew, Etta’s other kid are suspiciously whispering around pointing in your direction. At last Olly nods and runs up to you showing a quite thick piece of wood into your hand. You look down at him confused.

“Thank you?” you tell him a little unsure what it’s all about.

“I found it in a bush, I want to take it home. Harry said you’ll keep it for me because you have a good hand for thick and hard sticks.”

You almost choke on your own breath, as Olly just carelessly runs back ahead to join his sister. You immediately look over to Etta in fear that she heard what Harry told Oliver, but luckily she was talking with Joe turning back, not really paying attention to the conversation you just had with her son. If she did, Harry probably wouldn’t live by now.

Speaking of the devil, you look in his way and that annoying, smug grin is right there as he nods in your way saluting before he shows his hands into his pockets and turns back around to catch up with the kids.

That disgusting piece of shit really went into the depth of teaching something secretly dirty to your nephew as a way of payback for your comment in the car earlier. He surely wasn't just joking when he said you’d pay for what you said. And you have a feeling he is just getting started.

***

Aunt Monica is like a legend in your family. She is the oldest between your mom and her sisters, already in her sixties, but in the heart she still feels like she has just turned twenty. She never married, but had several men in her life, love affairs, short flings, but none of them lasted for more than a year.

“Why would I settle when there’s so many fish in the sea?” she once told you, her iconic Chanel sunglasses sat on her nose as she sipped on her martini.

She has worked many jobs throughout her life, she was once a dancer, she waited tables and even worked as a TV host at one point in the ‘80s. She was the true free spirit of the family, her sisters often questioned her sanity, but you think there’s nothing wrong with how she lived her life, enjoying it to the last bit. In the early ‘90s she was seeing a millionaire, probably the only man she would have given her lifestyle up for. Unfortunately, they never married, the man passed away due to his heart problems, however, since he had little to zero family he left basically everything to Aunt Monica. Money, house, cars, business, everything. Being the smart woman that she is, she handed over the business into professional hands but she is still the owner, so the money is still flowing even though she could have lived happily on the money she inherited without ever having to work a day.

She seems a little odd in your family, but she has always been a loving aunt to you, a caring sister and she never fails to take care of her loved ones. She is the one to pay for all these Christmas getaways, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to stay in places this nice.

“What’s all the money for if I don’t spend it on my family?” she always says when someone questions if she is fine with paying for everything. Your mom and Teresa have tried to convince her to let them at least pay for part of it but she wouldn’t even listen to them.

She likes to have her own, sometimes odd ways in life. She definitely has a drinking problem, but not in a dangerous way. You have never seen her completely wasted, she just likes to keep things buzzing and always have a drink on her whenever she needs the extra fun. Because of her past she has the greatest stories about meeting famous people back in the days or how soldiers used to try to win her over when she was just a teenager.

“Oh, those things happened,” your mom told you when one day you questioned if you could believe all the crazy stories Aunt Monica tells you. “She was like… the star of the show. Used to hate living in her shadow, but I can’t blame her for enjoying life and doing the things I was too afraid to do myself.”

Now you’re sitting in the sunroom that faces the amazing view behind the cabin, the Christmas tree is standing tall in the corner, beautifully decorated in white and beige. Valerie is snuggled up to your chest as you gently rub her back and you listen to Aunt Monica tell you about how a literal captain once proposed to her after just three days of knowing each other.

“He was a gentleman, but a beast in the bed, Y/N. I’m telling you, men in uniform are just a different level of satisfaction.”

She sighs deep, taking a sip from her margarita that’s definitely not her first drink, and you just laugh nodding.

“He was begging for me to go to Italy with him.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“Who said I didn’t?” she asks with a pretentious hurt look turning to you and you just laugh. You should have known the story would go this way. “I accepted the offer, only turned down his proposal when we sailed off and then we parted as soon as I stepped onto the land of Italy. Broke his heart into pieces, but I was too busy enjoying the Italian summer.”

Harry comes in and hands you a bottle filled with juice that probably Rosa sent for Valerie.

“Thank you,” you smile at him shortly as you adjust the little girl in your arms and hand her the bottle.

“Young boy, have you ever proposed to someone?” Aunt Monica asks Harry who stops in his way as he was already about to head out, but now he walks back to the sofa where she is sitting.

“No, not yet,” he shakes his head.

“And how do you think you would if the time came?”

You watch Harry think to himself at the odd and quite random question. It’s not really something you would have ever asked him, but now that there’s the chance to hear his answer you are listening curiously.

“Depends on the woman I’m proposing to,” he replies after a few seconds.

“How would you propose to Y/N?”

Your eyes widen as you turn to your aunt with shock all over your face. You definitely didn’t want yourself dragged into this.

“Aunt Monica, that’s--”

“Shush! I’m just asking theoretically. Wanna hear his answer.”

Harry’s eyes wander over to your sitting figure on the sofa as he leans onto the back of the one in front of him. You can feel the heat crawling up on your neck to your cheeks under his burning look and you just know he enjoys how nervous you got from this simple question that wasn’t even asked from you.

Licking his lips he moves his eyes from you over to Aunt Monica who is still waiting for his answer.

“Something romantic, but not too grandiose, I know she doesn’t like being in the center of the attention that much. Maybe…” Tapping on his chin you listen to his words and without even realizing you hold your breath. “Maybe on a hike with a nice view. She would be admiring the view when I get down on one knee and as she turns around I pop the lid on the box.”

What bugs you is that it’s an awfully accurate description of how you’d imagined your proposal. He was right about many aspects, like how you don’t like being in the center of attention. No idea how he nailed so easily, but he did.

Glancing down you pretend to be busy with Valerie who is still peacefully drinking her juice, eyes wandering around the room relentlessly.

“So you really look to satisfy her deepest fantasies, careful about even the smallest details. Women appreciate it,” Aunt Monica nods, completely oblivious to how uncomfortable she just made you feel.

“Thank you, I do like to satisfy women,” Harry cheekily answers with a smirk, eyes locking with yours for a moment as Aunt Monica lets out a laugh at the dirty comment. Before you could bite your tongue a retort slips out of your mouth.

“What a shame you don’t always succeed.”

Harry’s eyes turn from playful to dark pretty quickly and you enjoy the victory over him. Your comment in the car earlier already wounded his manhood, now it’s another stab right into his… crotch. It’s the least he deserves after what he taught poor Olly.

“That I don’t believe. He seems like an absolute pleaser.” Aunt Monica winks in Harry’s way who just smiles at her shyly, but you can tell your comment is still bugging him.

“I think Y/N knows that too herself, am I right?” He tilts his head to the side and you stand your ground with holding his gaze and not looking away.

“Don’t be so sure about that,” you simply say, just when you hear your mom calling out for you. “Would you take her please?” you innocently ask walking up to Harry, holding Valerie out for him. You can tell he is looking for a witty comeback, but he has nothing just yet, so he is stuck with keeping his mouth shut as he takes baby Valerie from you. You gift him with a sweet, but definitely spikey smile before leaving him there with Aunt Monica.

***

Dinner is already almost ready, you’re helping your mom and Aunt Teresa in the kitchen with the finishing touches, Joe and Harry packing out the wine bottles from the rack Jeremy brought them in, the two of them examining the bottles with such professionalism you almost believe they have the slightest idea about what to look for in a good wine.

“Should we open some red or white ones for tonight’s dinner?” Joe asks your mom who is the master chef when it comes to the dinner.

“Red would suit better,” she answers. “Are they sweet?”

“Some, yeah,” Harry nods holding up a bottle and checking the label.

“Great. Monica loves that too,” Teresa chuckles as she adds some salt to the mashed potato.

“And Y/N too,” Harry adds, not even looking up, but he successfully attracts your mom’s attention with his comment.

“She does?” Harry looks up and sees your boiling anger plastered all over your face, so of course he chooses to take it further.

“Oh, yeah. She can drink like a gallon. Wine drunk Y/N is like a whole different person.”

“I told you so many times not to get drunk, Y/N. It’s not too ladylike. When was the last time you saw her drunk?”

“There were plenty of occasions,” Harry exaggerates and you could kill him right there. “Though last time it was the tequila that got her wildin’.”

That damned smirk of his is making your hands curl into fists and for a moment you tell yourself it’s okay to punch him in front of your mother even if she’ll probably disown you for such behavior.

“Y/N! I have told you a million times that you need to know where your limits lie!” she huffs shaking her head at you while you clench your jaw. Back at it with the lessons about getting drunk. She’ll never get over it, not even when you’ll be forty. Why does it matter to her so much? Sometimes she is the one to get you started, but then she gives you the dirtiest looks when you have one too many. She should just get used to it now.

“She surely likes to have fun when she has had a few drinks,” Harry continues smugly. “Remember how much fun you had at Rosa and Steven’s wedding?”

“Oh, God! I remember how drunk you were that evening, I could have killed you!” your mother growls and you roll your eyes at her.

“It wasn’t that bad. There were a lot more people who got way more wasted than me,” you try to defend yourself folding your arms on your chest.

“That doesn’t change that you were too,” she says with a hard look. Great, now she is mad at you for something that happened literally years ago. Kudos to Harry for ruining her mood.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Harry adds and you look in his way with suspicion. “She was a delight when it was time to get her to bed.”

Your mouth almost hangs open, but it seems like you’re the only one understanding what he really meant by that. Luckily, beside you and him, Rosa and Steven are the only people who knows what happened between you and Harry that night, so it’s no surprise no one else catches on the hint.

“You were the one who took her up to her room? Sorry if she was a burden,” your mother sighs and right at that moment you wish the floor would just open up and you could disappear forever. Harry’s satisfied grin is the evidence that he just won another round of this nasty war.

Just as you open your mouth to try and move the conversation to another field you see a pair of headlights pull up to the driveway. Everyone turns to the window as Marcus’ car parks down last in the line. As you step away from the counter you see the confusion in Harry’s eyes about the new guest.

“Oh, amazing! He is here!” your mom cheers, seemingly instantly forgetting about how she was dragging you just a minute ago.

“Who’s here?” you hear Harry ask, but you’re already out of there, heading to the front door to greet Marcus.

Just as you walk out into the cold evening air you see him get out with a warm smile on his lips. You wait for him at the door, arms wrapped around yourself and as he reaches you he places a soft kiss to your lips.

“Hey, how was the drive?” you ask him.

“It was fine. I didn’t arrive too late, right?”

“No, we were just about to set the table. Come on in, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

He takes your hand in his as the two of you walk inside, all eyes immediately turning your way at the arrival of your boyfriend.

“Everyone, I want you all to meet my boyfriend, Marcus. He is staying for dinner.”

Your family members walk up to the two of you, shaking hands and introducing themselves to Marcus who smiles at everyone politely, trying his best to remember all the names and information that’s thrown at him all of a sudden. Everyone seems delighted to have him for dinner, the kids instantly make him promise he’ll play a card game with them after dinner and he happily says yes to the invitation.

You can tell your mom is proud that finally both of her daughters are spending Christmas with a man by their side and you’re almost certain your dad took a liking to Marcus the moment he mentioned he is into fishing.

Everyone seems excited and happy for Marcus, there’s just one face that doesn’t fit in the line of joyful smiles. Harry stands quite far from the two of you and only gets closer when he shakes hands with Marcus. His cocky grin is long gone from his face as he keeps his hard look on your boyfriend who is chatting with everyone. Standing next to Marcus, your hand still holding his, your eyes lock with Harry’s and there’s an unknown, burning feeling in your gut when his hard gaze holds yours. The sudden change and cold act gets you wondering what’s really going on in his mind. He is the first one to look away and you watch him walk into the kitchen and disappear from your sight before you force a smile on your lips and turn back to Marcus.

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hoedorokishoto · 3 years

Text

Trust - Part 3

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

+ Minors DNI

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"So what, they were just arguing outside the dorm?" Toshi asked, stretched out on the couch in my workshop, manspreading as he rubbed the back of his neck. One of his long legs not quite fitting on the small red couch, hanging over edge.

"Yeah...I mean, I don't think it was too serious but there was definitely yelling." I stated, flicking my protective goggles down over my eyes and welding new panels on some of Bakugo's equipment, keeping the lines clean and crisp. Not wanting to feel or hear the wrath of Katsuki Bakugo if something was out of place.

"And you were in the bushes?" He asked, quirking his eyebrow, laughing at me as he laid down further on the couch.

"Not in a creepy way! In a what the fuck, dodge and evade kinda way." I said, my voice becoming higher as I defended myself. I had to admit, the situation last night would have sounded suspicious if I had told anyone else. A half-black 18-year-old, hiding in the bushes listening to a conversation between two rich popular people in the middle of the night. Yeah very sus indeed. But I knew that my story was safe with Hitoshi, hoping that he might even have some insider 3A knowledge.

"Well, nothing too exciting happened after they left. Yaomomo walked in head held high, made some tea and went to bed." He said, yawning and placing his arm over his eyes. He didn't mention Todoroki. Did he not go back inside? Where did he find himself last night? I didn't dwell any longer in the bushes to find out, almost regretting that decision now.

"So no gossip? I'm disappointed." I said shrugging, faking disappointment. He laughed behind me, his arm still shielding his eyes as he shifted and got comfortable, preparing to nap as I worked into the late afternoon no doubt. Mr Aizawa having to cancel their private training for 'Pro Hero Reasons'.

I never cared much for the drama of UA students, hero course or otherwise, but recently a two-toned boy had piqued my interest. The situation last night not helping me want to mind my own business. Usually everyone was too busy or too tired for drama, a fact that I had come to love since being at UA. Gone were the days of schoolyard bullying and the gossip about who was hooking up with who.

"What's going on in that brilliant brain of yours?" Hitoshi asked, his arm still over his eyes, not once had he even looked up.

"I can feel the neurons firing in your brain from here." He said before I could answer. It was times likes these that I hated he knew me so well.

What was going on in my brain? It felt like for the first time in 18 years I didn't know exactly what I wanted or how I would go about getting it. Shoto Todoroki's name had really thrown a spanner in the works from the moment it was listed next to mine.

"He is quite interesting... that's all I'll say about it." I said in Hitoshi's direction, looking back down, welding the remaining panels together.

"What? You have a thing for Todoroki now? Well get in line behind the rest of the school." He said laughing.

"I don't have a thing! I just find him interesting. Is that a crime?"

I put my equipment away and stood back admiring the finished product, hand on my hip and once again covered in grease. The thick black layer of grime almost a permanent feature of my skin since 1st year. Most of my clothes stained and musty. Smelling like the workshop and a truck had a baby.

"Speaking of interesting... Shishida said he knew you were there last night. I saw him talking to Kaibara about it this morning before class, looking all flustered." Toshi said, finally getting up and coming to stand beside me with one hand in his pocket and the other atop my head.

"I forget that his quirk lets him hear and smell everything. It's a little unsettling." I stated, a shiver going up my spine. I did forget about Shishida and his beast quirk, how he probably heard the whole thing and everything that was said and done last night in Sen's dorm room. Since mine and Hitoshi's most recent conversation about Sen, I have been feeling worse. Wishing that I could like him more or at least have the decency to cut him off. As much as I hated the thought of a relationship the thought of being alone forever with no one sounded even worse, as selfish as it sounded. I was using Sen to feel something, something that I knew would never grow and we would never be more than this.

"Am I a terrible person?" I asked, out of the blue. Shocking even Hitoshi as his eyes went wide.

"Of course not, why would you ask that?"

"I can feel it, I feel how much he likes me and wants me to stay but I just can't. I worry that I won't ever like anyone like that." I said sadly, dropping my head and removing the helmet, rubbing my cheek with the back of my hand.

"Hey! Boys and girls may come and go but you and me are forever. Don't ever forget that. I've seen your heart and I know how big it is and I know exactly who you are." He said, putting his long finger under my chin and lifting my head, a small smile on his handsome face.

"I don't know what will happen in the future. But regardless I'll always be on your side."

The next few days continued on like any other, morning classes then UA class followed by after school and extra curricular activities. The last bell of the day rang out, dismissing students and teachers who were eager to get back to the dorms to start enjoying their one day weekend. Sunday being the only day off for all students.

"So... What are you wearing? I'm thinking that red dress where your boobs look absolutely amazing." Mei said as she linked our arms as we left out respective workshops and matched step as we left the main UA building.

"Hmm maybe, I mean they are one of my best assets." I agreed, replying to Hitoshi's text message about what time we should head over.

"I'm excited. Iida has been freaking out all week trying to mentally prepare for tonight, I can already picture him running around offering people water or something lame like that." She giggled, her face lighting up as she talked about Iida.

Mei and Tenya weren't official but to all of us they might as well have been. They even spent last Christmas together, sharing their first kiss in the snow. I think Iida was hesitant after what happened to his brother, not wanting anything terrible to happen to the people he loved most because of his career path. A noble man through and through.

Ding.

Sen- Hey, are you coming to the party tonight?

I hadn't seen Sen since the last time we had sex and I left without an explanation, saying that I would text him. Which I had not done.

I had been thinking about everything recently, liking Sen enough to not want to hurt him but not liking him enough to want to be his girlfriend. We were both already in too deep, whatever I said now even if it was letting him down easy was going to be harsh. That's what happens when you are a selfish piece of shit who just wants to get dicked down. I sighed heavily and looked down, rubbing my temples. Over having to think about this whole situation, and just wanting to crawl into bed and never come out.

"Whoa whoa whoa, what is this? I don't like it." Mei said, waving her hand up and down, gesturing to my whole body.

"Why aren't you excited! We always get excited for parties." She stated, linking our arms once more and walking us down the halls.

"I'm excited. Who said I wasn't excited."

"Oh just your face, your body language and your whole aura."

She was probably right, the introvert in me wanted nothing more than to stay home and avoid any and all confrontation about the situation that I had caused. I didn't answer her as we continued to walk, making our way to the huge doors and pushing them open. Coming face to face with Sen, Shishida and Tetsu Tetsu. All of them turning and looking directly at us as we walked out.

"Hey guys! Wanna walk together?" Tetsu asked, his usual cheerful self on full display. His sunshine personality and aloofness clearly missing the weird tension between me and Sen.

"Um..." Sen started, blushing slightly and looking in my direction, his eyes looking sad as they took me in.

"We would love to! 3 future pro heroes as our personal chaperons? How did we get so lucky?" Mei answers, her voice getting higher as she looked between me and Sen, picking up whatever energy we were giving off.

We went the long way, the plan was to drop us off at our dorm then the 3 boys continue onto theirs. The conversation flowed naturally as we all talked about the party tonight and offers which we had gotten for work studies and internships.

"Hatsume I really loved the gear you made me! You guys are so cool, I wish I was half as smart as you. Mr Vlad might actually pass me then." Testu Testsu confessed, smiling and showing off his sharp teeth to us. The rest of the group continued to make small talk as we walked, me and Sen lagging behind the group, not walking together but close enough that I could hear his breathing. Fast and almost panicked, cleary working himself up.

"Y/N. Can I talk to you for a sec?" Sen asked quietly behind me so only I could hear. I stilled, scared that if I turned around, my heart and head would be even more confused. As if that was possible.

"You guys can go on without us." I said to the others, smiling at them as they waved us off.

"I'm s."

"I just."

We both said at the same time, both of us stepping forward towards each other. A blush making it's way up Sen's cheeks. He was incredibly cute. The type of cute that if you bought him home your parents would approve. The type of cute that was safe.

"You know that I like you, I don't try to hide it Y/N" He stated confidently, his darks eyes staring into mine.

"I love being with you, not just physically. I want to be someone you can rely on. Be there for you whenever you need. Why won't you give me a chance?" He said louder this time. My heart hammering in my chest. Not at his sudden confess but because I was scared of my answer, scared of being labeled the bad guy and rightfully so.

"Please, come with me to the party as my date and just give me a chance. There has to be something there or else we wouldn't have made it this far."

That's where he was wrong. People could sleep with people and not want to date them. People could promise each other the world and leave them the very next day. I knew that I could have sex with Sen a million times and even then, it would only be sex. He would only ever be cute, and if things ever went any further he would only break my heart or me his.

Despite this, as I looked at his eyes and his tall frame looming over me I answered with the complete contradiction.

"Yes, meet me outside my dorm at 7?"

#shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #sen kaibara #mha x reader #bnha fanfiction #todoroki x reader #shoto smut

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jetaime-jespere · 3 years

Text

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

This is for the lovely @sequinsmile-x on her birthday. I started reading her stories back in December and was a huge fan from the beginning. Fast forward a few months, and I am somehow lucky enough to call you my friend. For all the pep talks, the inspiration, and the laughs- you have been a bright spot of 2021. But I stand true to my word if harm ever comes to Theo Hotchner, you know what’s coming your way ; ) Happiest of birthdays, my friend! Enjoy every moment and all the cocktails.

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

The Day After Thanksgiving

The fragrant aromas of hazelnut and vanilla waft through the air as Aaron precariously grips two full mugs of coffee in his hands. He sidesteps a few toys and a pair of shoes that were somehow missed in last night’s cleanup as he carefully ascends the stairs. The coffee threatens to slosh over the edge of the mugs and stain the hardwood floors; he slows his steps and tiptoes past closed bedroom doors. He avoids the squeaky floorboards - he knows exactly where they are by now - and kicks another stray toy against the wall in his haste to get to Emily before she wakes up.

Coffee in bed is a sacred routine for them, one they haven’t abandoned even balancing the demands of three children and two grueling careers. It’s one of Emily’s little pleasures, an act so simple Aaron can’t deny her whenever he gets the chance. That alone is how he found himself awake before the sun rises, rearranging the various pyrex containers of Thanksgiving leftovers to locate the coveted bottle of Emily’s favorite creamer in the fridge. It was wedged behind the cranberry sauce and macaroni and cheese they made for Nora, who vehemently refused to eat turkey. Of course, she’d eaten maybe five bites of her specially prepared dinner before she’d crawled into Emily’s lap in the middle of dinner. Yet it still brings a smile to his face; it’s their first holiday season as a family of five - something they never expected, something they’ll never take for granted.

Read the rest here or on ao3

When he shoulders the door open, Aaron finds her awake, feeding Leo. She holds him at her breast, her head tipped back and her eyes closed. She senses his presence innately, attuned to the softness of his steps as he steps over the threshold of the sanctuary of their bedroom. Emily’s face stretches into a brilliant smile when she sees him, but it doesn’t hide the exhaustion that paints her features.

“He’s awake again?” Aaron sets the mug on the nightstand and kisses her cheek then the top of Leo’s head. “I thought you’d at least get another hour of sleep.”

“He had other plans,” Emily murmurs, lovingly shifting their son in her arms. “He’s almost done.” She reaches for the coffee with her free hand, lifts the mug to her lips. “Thank you for this.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Aaron watches her finish Leo’s feed with unabashed awe. There’s nothing but adoration in his eyes, amazement at how she handles motherhood with an abundance of patience and grace. There have been ups and downs, tears. arguments and fights, her nerves stretched thin and his worn down. But these moments make it worth it, ones he wouldn’t trade. He leans down to take Leo to give her a break. The little boy’s eyes are already closed, contentedly asleep once again.

“You’re spoiling me.” Emily says with a grateful smile. She rests back against the pillows, eyes closing again. “What was I thinking when I agreed to go Black Friday shopping with JJ and Garcia?”

“Might be good to get out of the house. Away from the chaos.”

“Into a whole new kind of chaos. Garcia means business. I’m afraid of her ambition.” Emily rolls her eyes at the thought of the shared document Garcia had sent to her and JJ - essentially a shopping itinerary, with all the best deals and discounts clearly marked.

“You say it like you’re surprised.” Aaron gently places Leo into the bassinet before crawling back into bed with his wife. “It is Garcia we’re talking about.”

“Maybe I’ll learn my lesson next year.” She snuggles against him, seeking a few extra moments of peace.

Christmas Tree Shopping

It’s scarcely a week after Thanksgiving when Aaron caves to the persistent demands from Nora and Jack, unable to hold them off any longer. Less than an hour later, as the sun starts to go down in the early December sky, the Hotchners find themselves at an idyllic Christmas tree farm in Loudoun County. They’re not the only ones, as families make their way through the maize of evergreen, the air thick with the cloying, yet not unpleasant, scent of pine needles.

“We’re becoming those people,” Aaron grumbles good naturedly, Leo strapped to his chest in a baby carrier. “Jack, please watch your sister!” A few feet ahead, Nora runs excitedly through the trees, clapping her tiny mitten covered hands with joy. But Jack looks just as excited and takes off behind her as they search for the perfect one. It’s a tradition he never had growing up; one he’d only ever heard stories about from his classmates as he swallowed an emotion he only identified many years later as jealousy.

“What kind of people?” Emily carefully picks her way through the grass, her hand enclosed in his. Her head falls onto his shoulder every few feet; they quietly murmur to each other in broken sentences, interrupted every few seconds by one of the kids, yet it’s a language they’ve mastered over the last few years. Glances and smiles, words that speak volumes, little touches here and there.

“Those Christmas crazed people. Pretty soon we’re going to have an inflatable Santa on the lawn or something.”

“Don’t say that too loudly.” Emily gives him a quick kiss, stopping for a moment to adjust Leo’s hat to cover his tiny head. “Nora said one of her classmates has one. She’s already talking about it.”

“Great.” Aaron rolls his eyes. “I bet Garcia has one we could borrow. Probably more than one.”

Emily laughs, lightly smacking him on the shoulder as Nora grabs her hand. “Mommy, Jack and I like this one!” They all stop in front of a tree on a corner. It’s bigger than Aaron anticipated - he has visions of vacuuming pine needles for the next four weeks - and slightly lopsided, with uneven branches and a few gaps in between. Certainly not what you might see in a magazine, and in no way picture perfect, but Nora and Jack are beaming, their cheeks flushed pink in the chilly early evening air.

“Oh, you mean you two finally agree on something?” Emily quips, letting Nora drag her around the base of the tree, listening as their daughter explains where she wants to put her collection of superhero ornaments. “Who would have ever thought?” But when her eyes meet Aaron’s, it’s clear they’re thinking the same thing too.

It’s perfect.

A Lesson In Gift Wrapping

“Damnit,” Emily swears under her breath as the wrapping paper seemingly shreds in her hands. How does Aaron make this look so easy? With her bottom lip between her teeth, she folds another piece of paper around the box, trying to mimic the process she’s seen him do so effortlessly time and time again. It’s not quite enough paper to wrap around the box, and she shakes her head in defeat.

“Of all the places I looked, I didn’t think I’d find you here.” Aaron’s baritone voice shakes her from her trance. He’s leaning in the doorway of the guest room, an amused but loving smirk on his face. The remnants of the day are there - a hint of shadow on his chin, tie loosened and sleeves rolled to his elbows.

“Thought I might get some of this done.” She looks up at him briefly before her attention goes back to the mess of wrapping paper, twisted balls of tape, and gift bows. “There’s a lot still left to do.”

“Did the North Pole finally accept your elf application?” Aaron teases lovingly, pushing the door open and side-stepping a large pile of gifts that still have yet to be wrapped. “Looks like we’re a little behind schedule this year.”

With a roll of her eyes, Emily pushes a piece of hair out of her face. “You’re home earlier than I expected.” She glances at the mess around her with a sigh, and her voice softens. “Leo needs to be fed when he gets up. I need to pick up Nora from school and Jack will be home in an hour.”

He immediately catches the tension in her voice. As the early days of December melted into weeks, the never ending hustle was clearly starting to get to her, especially since cases took Aaron out of town most of the workweek. Evenings were full of obligations - practices and errands, weekends packed with as much family time as they could manage. All the rest was pushed to the side, a never ending list of chores that was only added to, never subtracted from.

The team had spent almost a week in Bethlehem Pennsylvania, ironically called the Christmas City, searching for an arsonist that had the entire city on edge. Perhaps the nickname was an eerie coincidence yet nonetheless it was a grueling case. Since he’d gotten home he could sense the stress emanating from her, curling like fog around her. She couldn’t hide it from him; she couldn’t hide anything from him. And while he didn’t ask, he somehow already knew. “I asked Garcia to pick Nora up to give you a break.”

“What about dinner?”

“It’s already been ordered.” Aaron says easily, settling beside her on the floor. “Pizza sounded good.”

Relief floods her face. “Pizza always sounds good.” She kicks the abandoned box out of the way to wedge herself against him, lacing her fingers through his. “We’ve missed you around here.” It’s honest, an understated relief that only years of intimacy can bring. Her head finds its way to his shoulder; she leans against him.

“We’re finished until after New Years.” Aaron holds their hands up to the light, staring at the bouncing reflection of their wedding rings. “You have me here until January.”

“Lucky me,” Emily says dryly.

Aaron picks up a stray ball of abandoned wrapping paper and chucks it at her. “What do you say we finish wrapping these together?”

“I say,” she begins slowly, eyes darting between the neatly made bed and his own. “We take advantage of having the house to ourselves.”

He makes her come three times before they hear Garcia’s car in the driveway, and twice more after the kids are in bed, for good measure.

A Deal With The Devil

The name that appears on the screen of his ringing phone is one Aaron can’t ignore. It’s terrible timing, but he’s not at all surprised. His mother in law had an uncanny knack for calling at the most inopportune moments.

“Hi, Elizabeth,” Aaron says hastily, pressing the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he wedges the final plate into the dishwasher. He barely got to the phone in time before it went to voicemail, and something tells him she’s only a little miffed about that fact. Elizabeth Prentiss has an abundance of patience for her grandchildren, but not much for anyone else, he’s come to learn.

“Good evening, Aaron,” she says crisply yet not unkindly. In the background he can hear the mellow crooning of Bing Crosby. He imagines Elizabeth with a glass of wine in one hand, a thick book in her lap. “Is Emily around? I tried to reach her earlier. She didn’t answer my call.”

“She’s giving Nora a bath.” He glances upward, the muffled squeals and giggles coming from the bathroom just loud enough to hear from downstairs. At least things have calmed down since dinner . He decides not to mention it’s already been quite an evening around their house, thanks to unfamiliar vegetables and a long day in preschool. “Is there something you’d like me to pass along?” Of course Elizabeth would call on the one night this week he isn’t away on a case.

“Actually, Aaron, maybe you can help me,” Elizabeth presses, and he knows whatever she’s about to say is something that’s already caused a disagreement between her and Emily.

“I can try,” he offers tentatively, choosing words carefully. The very last thing he wants to do is get caught between their fires. It’s never ended well for him.

“You sound tired, Aaron. Are you not sleeping well?”

“We have three kids, Elizabeth,” he counters back. “I haven’t slept well in years.”

He hears a soft laugh on the other line; for a moment he has to remind himself he’s not talking to his wife. Sometimes the similarities between them are uncanny, much to Emily’s chagrin.

He’s wrapping up the call, assuring Elizabeth they’ll figure out a plan that works for everyone yet doesn’t add any additional stress, while simultaneously cleaning the rest of the kitchen when he hears soft footsteps on the stairs.

“You’re on bedtime duty.” Emily appears behind him, leaning against the counter with an exasperated huff. “She’s in a mood tonight.”

Aaron comes to stand behind her, circling both arms around her waist. Her hips fit snugly against the cradle of his own; he rests his chin over her shoulder to nip at her ear. “I just made a deal with your mother.” He doesn’t miss how she tenses against him, a combination of frustration, annoyance, and exhaustion seeping through her body. It’s the first time they’ve been alone all day. He presses a palm against her chest, feeling the beat of her heart under the warmth of his hand.

“She called again? I let it go to voicemail earlier.”

“Just now. She wanted to talk to you. Luckily, you’re off the hook, because I talked to her.” He kisses her neck. He swipes at a few stray bath bubbles that have somehow found their way into her hair. Of all the versions of Emily he’s loved over the years, this Emily might just be his favorite.

“Let me guess. She wants us to come to her for Christmas Eve dinner instead of her coming here.”

“Something like that.”

“Does she not understand we have three children?” Emily grumbles. “I’ve been over this with her. She’s not the one who has to put them to bed on Christmas Eve, you know. It’s a whole different kind of chaos.”

“I think we can figure it out, Em.” Aaron chuckles. He holds her a little closer, voice reassuring and calm. “I made her a deal.” She noticeably relaxes, her body melding against his. Proximity is one of their love languages, the subtle touches an endless source of comfort for them both.

“ Mommy!” Nora’s voice is an insistent, urgent interruption, one they can’t ignore. “Mommy!”

Emily sighs in defeat, the moment of peaceful bliss abruptly over.

“I’ll go,” Aaron says immediately, leaving a trail of kisses down Emily’s neck. “I haven’t seen you sit down all day.”

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” She presses her hips into his teasingly and turns her head to kiss him. It’s a promise of later, another little luxury they still manage to make time for.

“No, but you can show me once the kids are asleep.” He reluctantly lets her go as he heads in the direction of the upstairs.

“Only if I don’t fall asleep first.”

Visiting Santa

“This is not the smartest idea we’ve ever had, clearly,” Emily mutters under her breath as the crowd around them seems to thicken before their eyes. The mall is packed, full of shoppers and families lined elbow to elbow around a colorful, elaborate display to meet Santa. There’s fake snow everywhere, teenagers dressed up as elves supervising the line and a kids’ rendition of a Christmas song blasting from speakers. “What were we thinking?”

“The same as everyone else in Northern Virginia, apparently.” Aaron finds the small of her back through her coat, rests his hand there gently as Emily pushes the stroller a little to soothe Leo. “Not like we had much of a choice, sweetheart. I’ve been gone all week. When else were we supposed to do this?”

“I could have taken them myself one night.” She looks annoyed and rightfully so, as one of the elves announces it’s time for Santa to take a fifteen minute break.

“And miss all this fun?” Aaron jokes. He’s doing his best to hide his own annoyance, yet the flex of his jaw is a tell-tale sign that Emily spots immediately. “Not a chance.”

They’ve been in line for over a half an hour, and will be for at least another half hour. Beside Aaron, Jack grumbles under his breath and rolls his eyes without even looking up from his Nintendo Switch. He’d obliged reluctantly, partly because Aaron had promised him a new video game if he didn't complain. And from where Nora is nestled in the safety of her mother’s arms, she presses her cheek against Emily’s shoulder. “What if we miss Santa, Mommy?”

“We won’t, honey,” Emily soothes, catching Aaron’s eyes over their daughter’s head of dark hair. It’s the third time she’s asked the question, her dark eyes widening as Santa waves to the crowd before disappearing. “He’s just taking a break.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Aaron mutters under his breath. “Even Santa is over it.”

When they finally emerge from the mall almost an hour later, with three cranky children in tow, Emily passes over the photograph to Aaron. “This is an awful picture,” she snickers behind her gloved fist. It’s true. It was taken at the worst possible moment - seconds after Leo started screaming, Nora’s attention anywhere but the camera, and Jack’s eyes closed. “This is even worse than last year’s picture. We can’t actually display this anywhere, you know.”

“We can give it to Dave. He’ll love it,” Aaron jokes as he tucks the envelope under his arm. “Trust me.”

Twas the Night before Christmas

“Move over, Nora!” Jack elbows his sister squarely in the stomach in an attempt to crawl over his sister to get closer to Aaron. “You’re taking up too much space.”

“Ouch, Jack! Daddy, Jack is being mean!”

“There’s more than enough room for everyone,” Aaron says neutrally and cheerfully. It’s clear he won’t pick a side. “Santa doesn’t want to hear the two of you fighting on Christmas Eve. Last time we checked the radar, he was headed to the United States, wasn’t he?”

From where she cradles a milk-drunk Leo in her arms, Emily stifles a laugh in her fist. She makes a mental note to thank Garcia for showing it to the kids earlier that evening. It’s been the only thing to keep them from completely losing their minds with excitement ever since.

“Nora, why don’t you come sit over here next to Mommy and Leo?” He pats the sliver of space between his thigh and Emily’s, covered in matching flannel pajamas as Emily shifts over.

“Okay, Daddy,” she beams, scrambling off the couch and making a point to stick her tongue out at Jack along the way.

“Nora, apologize to Jack,” Emily cuts in smoothly with a sharp look at her daughter.

The little girl pouts even as guilt spreads across her face. “Sorry, Jack.” She breaks off a piece of the frosted cookie in her hand - the one she isn’t supposed to have on the new couch - and hands it to Jack. “Here.”

“Is everyone ready?” Aaron asks once Nora is settled and Jack has stopped kicking his feet underneath one of the many blankets flung around the couch. “No one needs anything?” He grins at the insistent pleas of both kids, hushes them quietly to avoid waking the sleeping baby on Emily’s chest. “Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house…” He begins, as a silence falls over them all.

Emily watches him read, transfixed by the sight of Jack and Nora completely engrossed in the story they’ve heard dozens of times, as if they never have before. Sometimes it still doesn’t seem real that this is their life now. She would have laughed ten years ago if someone predicted her future.

“A happy Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight.” Aaron closes the book in his hands, looking between Nora and Jack. “I think it’s bedtime, what do you think?”

There are grumbles from them both as they trip over each other on their way towards the stairs, not without frequent peeks over the shoulder to see if in fact Santa somehow materialized behind them.

“Maybe Santa will bring us a puppy, Jack!"

Christmas Eve

“You think they’ll be disappointed when none of these presents bark?” Emily jokes once they’ve finished setting up the pile of gifts. There’s a bottle of wine between them, and It’s A Wonderful Life plays in the background on low.

“I told them Santa doesn’t carry pets on the sleigh.” Aaron tucks his arm around her and brings her into his chest, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head. “Said it was too dangerous.”

“Did they buy that?”

“Seemed to.” He shrugs. “We might have some explaining to do if Allison and Shane end up getting Jude a puppy, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” In the easy silence the movie stretches on; they share sips of wine and leftover cookies and murmur soft whispers over the final few minutes.

“I love this part,” Emily murmurs as George Bailey reunites with his family in a joyous, tearful reunion and the opening measures of Auld Lang Syne begin to play. She doesn't look away from the screen.

“You love this whole movie,” he teases gently. “You always have.”

“You don’t?”

“I have other favorites. But I’ll always watch it with you.”Outside, the snow has started to accumulate; it’s already formed a blanket of white across the grass, and is covering the trees. It doesn’t look like it’ll be stopping anytime soon.

“This never gets old,” Emily says from where they’re snuggled together on the couch, staring at the Christmas tree and the falling snow out the window. It’s been their tradition to do this since having Nora - set up presents and watch the movie.

They watch the falling snow in silence once again, their fingers linked, heads bent together, enjoying the few extra moments of peace. It’s only when Emily’s eyes drift shut does she realize just how exhausted she really is.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Aaron murmurs as she opens them. “There’s one thing left to do.”

“We did everything. We even answered the note they wrote for Santa. We forgot that last year.” Emily stretches as she stands, her limbs aching. “It’s time for bed, Aaron. I’m so tired.”

“Not quite yet, sweetheart.” Aaron is reaching behind the decorations on the mantle for the small hidden speakers, flicking a button. “I think you’re forgetting something.”

“What?” She yawns, not even bothering to hide it. “It’s so late.”

“You remember,” he says, holding out his hand as the music starts.

Emily rolls her eyes good naturedly, remembering just what he means. “Really, Aaron?”

“One dance, sweetheart. Please?”

“I'm tired.”

He rolls his eyes. It’s a line she’s used many times, yet for some reason, she always gives in. In fact, she’s stepping into his arms before she even stops talking.

“That’s what you always say.” He takes her hand and wraps his other arm around her back, drawing her in close. “Yet you always end up right here.”

“Because I love you,” she whispers, following his steps as he takes the lead.

Some soft Christmas jazz starts to play, a sultry sounding medley that might just lull her to sleep. “This is the song you picked?” Emily rests her head on his shoulder as he sways them in time to the music. “You couldn’t have picked anything more lively?”

“Shhhh,” he murmurs, his hand bracing against the small of her back as he dips her down and brings her back up. “Just go with it.”

So she does, letting him move them both around the living room in a series of smooth, even steps. When the music stops, they still for a few blissful, silent moments. Still wrapped in each other’s arms, they’re close enough together to feel the other’s heart beating in sync. “Merry Christmas, Emily. I love you.”

“I love you too, Aaron. Merry Christmas.”

#hotchniss #domestic hotchniss #happy hotchners #wsne universe #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #birthday fics and Christmas fluff #Christmas in July #for you my dear friend sequinsmile_x #I hope you enjoy

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perlukafarinn · 3 years

Text

Sweeter Than Roses

happy holidays @galaxystiel from your @destielsecretsanta2020 secret santa! sorry this is late but since i didn’t know i would have to pinch hit until a couple of days after posting date, this was the quickest turn-around i could manage. i hope you like it!

Dean loved the holiday season. Of course he did, he made about a quarter of his annual income in December. People liked to eat baked goods on Christmas, go figure.

But he hated the holiday season, too. Every single day was busy, every hour was rush hour. Sometimes he didn’t get the last orders done until an hour after closing. He had seasonal hires, of course, but in the three years since he opened Rolling Scones, he’d always ended up underestimated how much extra help he needed.

Thankfully, things quieted as soon as Christmas was over. The last week of the year, while still busy, was a calm oasis compared to what came before. This meant that for the first time all month, Dean wasn’t busy with twelve other customers when Cas dropped by.

Cas had been coming to Rolling Scones twice a week, like clockwork, ever since he took over the flower shop next door a few months ago. Dean had been sad to see Mildred, the previous owner, go but he’d been prepared to welcome his new neighbor. He’d even set aside a complimentary piece of pie for him, because who didn’t like pie?

The first time Cas had come by, Dean had been so dazed that he almost forgot not to charge him for the pie. Dean hadn’t even thought he had a type when it came to men but here Cas had been to prove him wrong, handsome and charming and weird in the exact right way to come across as endearing rather than awkward.

He always came about half an hour before the lunch rush, ordering a cup of coffee and a new type of pastry every time. Then he hung around while he ate, talking with Dean if he wasn’t with another customer.

And yeah, maybe Dean treasured those quiet moments with Cas, learning about flowers and their symbolic meaning and explaining to him how to make the perfectly flaky pie crust. Maybe he looked forward to the days Cas would come by the rest of the week. Maybe he’d added a few items to his menu since Cas started frequenting, just to give him the incentive to keep coming.

It was called being a good business owner.

This past month, Cas had come by for his coffee and pastry and taken them to go. He’d been busy, too, so stopping wouldn’t have been an option even if the bakery hadn’t been crowded and Dean hadn’t been on the phone with some asshole who absolutely needed sixty-four macarons in eight different flavors for a holiday party that same evening.

Today, though, was just a slightly-busier-than-average Monday. For both of them, judging by the foot traffic outside that Dean could see from his spot behind the counter.

Cas even arrived a little bit earlier than usual, carrying a huge bouquet of red roses.

Dean watched him, amused as Cas navigated his way past the chairs and tables, head just barely poking up past the flowers in his arms.

“What’s this?” he asked as Cas finally arrived at the counter.

Cas placed the flowers down, giving Dean an abashed smile. “Cancelled order. A young man was intending to propose on Christmas Day but apparently, his girlfriend had different plans.”

“Yikes, poor guy.”

“Yes,” Cas said. “But I felt the bouquet should be enjoyed by someone, so I thought of you.”

Dean grinned. “You’re not planning on proposing, are you? ‘Cause I like you but I don’t think we’re there just yet.”

“For the bakery,” Cas clarified, cheeks growing pink. “I - uh, I thought they might look nice in your window.”

“Relax, I’m kidding.” Dean picked up the bouquet. It was heavier than it looked and up close, the smell of them was almost overwhelming in its sweetness. “Thanks, Cas. I don’t gotta feed them, right?”

“Only water.”

Dean looked around for some free space for the flowers then, failing to find one, put them back down on the counter. “So, what’ll it be today?”

Cas placed his order - a cup of coffee and a festive peppermint eclair Dean only offered around the holidays - and stood at the counter as he ate, talking with Dean in between customers. As soon as he left, Krissy walked up to Dean and smacked his shoulder.

"He gave you flowers?”

Dean rubbed the spot she hit - kid was getting stronger by the day. Maybe he should stop making her knead the bread. “Yeah?”

“And you didn’t take the hint and ask him out?” she asked.

“They weren’t for me, they were for the shop. It wasn’t a hint.”

Krissy crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Was it?” Dean asked faintly.

“I know they say your mind starts to go as you grow older but, wow.”

“I’m not that old,” Dean protested. “You’re… young.”

“Nice one, boss.”

“Shut up.” Dean scratched the back of his neck, observing the roses still sitting on the counter. “You’re not messing with me? You really think that was a hint?”

“He gave you red roses. Dude couldn’t have been more obvious if he walked up to you and shoved his tongue down your throat.”

Dean shoved at her. Krissy danced out of reach, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Go man the register," he told her. "You've got customers waiting."

She rolled her eyes but did as told. Dean picked up the bouquet, getting it out of her way, and went to the back to find something to use as a vase. As he looked, he thought about what Krissy had said.

Had Cas meant that gift to be romantic? There were times when they talked that Dean thought his feelings might not be unrequited but then, he usually dismissed it as wishful thinking. Cas had never asked him out. He usually responded to Dean's more overt flirting with a confused but polite smile. That had to mean he wasn't interested and was just too nice to say so, right?

But then again, red roses. Those were objectively the most romantic flower, even Dean knew that. Sure, Cas had said they were for the bakery, but he'd also said I thought of you. He could've thrown them out or donated them or done whatever he did with flowers he couldn't sell. But no, he'd brought them to Dean, because he'd thought of him.

And Dean had gone and screwed it up by making a bad joke.

He needed to make it up to him. Just asking him out wouldn’t be enough and it wasn’t like he could give Cas flowers back. But, Dean considered, an idea forming in his mind, he could give him something else.

It took a couple of tries. Dean’s first attempt ended with a soggy middle. His second in burnt edges on the carefully crafted apple/rose petals. His third was perfect, the apples sliced not too thick and not too thin, curling up beautifully in the oven as they dried while still retaining their vibrant red color.

He stared down at his creation, cooling on the counter in his bakery’s kitchen. It was an apple pie and a rose bouquet rolled into one, the apple slices serving as petals arranged on top, sweet and tart just the way Cas liked best.

Cas wasn’t due for another visit until tomorrow but Dean was too nervous to wait. Both Krissy and Kevin were working today and the lunch rush wouldn’t start just yet, he had the time to drop by next door and deliver his gift. And possibly ask Cas out, put his heart on the line for what might just be a simple misunderstanding of intentions.

No big. A couple of minutes, in and out.

He put the pie on a plate, covering it with cloth for the short trip over to Cas' shop. Krissy dryly wished him good luck on his way out, to which he responded with a raised middle finger.

("Good luck? He's just delivering pie."

"Oh, Kevin.")

Dean had only been inside the flower shop a couple of times since Cas took over. A lot had changed since Mildred left, most noticeable of all a window in the ceiling that let in the pale morning light, shining directly down on the counter where Cas was working alongside a dark-haired woman. He smiled as he spotted Dean at the door, turning to the woman to say something before leaving her alone with the customers and making his way over.

"Hello, Dean." God, had he always looked this beautiful? "What brings you here?"

Dean opened his mouth, then realized that he had no idea what he was going to say. Wordlessly, he shoved the pie at Cas' chest. Cas looked confused but accepted, pulling the cloth away.

"Oh, this is lovely!" Cas looked back up at Dean. "You made this for me?"

Dean shrugged, his ears growing warm. "Just- since you brought me those roses yesterday. Thought I'd bring you something nice in return."

"Thank you, Dean, but there was no need. It wasn't any trouble for me, I had the roses by chance and no one else to give them to."

Dean's stomach sank. So it hadn't been romantic after all. Krissy had been way off and Dean had been desperate enough to believe her.

“It’s, uh, no big.” Dean cleared his throat. He needed to get out of here, quick. “I was gonna test out this technique anyway, so I figured I might as well try it on someone. Anyway, I gotta go back. Busy time, you know how it is.”

Cas nodded. “Thank you again for the pie.”

“No problem.”

Krissy had the good sense not to say anything when Dean returned less than two minutes after he left. She must have explained to Kevin what was going on because for the rest of the day, the two of them were model employees, quiet and helpful - in other words, nothing like their usual selves.

Dean sent them home early, figuring he’d use the time it would take him to close up by himself to stew in his disappointment and get it out of his system before he got home. He hadn’t lost anything, after all. He and Cas hadn’t broken up. It was just a stupid crush, a passing infatuation, and Cas would still be his friend once he got over it.

He’d be fine.

He’d almost managed to convince himself he believed that whole crock of shit when someone knocked on the door. Dean looked up, ready to tell them off when the bakery was so clearly closed, but stopped short when he saw Cas standing outside, giving him a small wave.

Dean was tempted to pretend he hadn't seen him, or to wave him off under the pretense of needing to close up quickly.

He'd need to talk to Cas again sooner or later, though. He closed the register, walking up to the door and swinging it open. A cool breeze greeted him. Dean now noticed snowflakes lazily drifting from the sky, covering the ground in soft, powdery snow.

Dean stood aside but Cas remained in the doorway, looking nervous.

"I think I may have misunderstood you earlier," he said. "After you left, Meg told me that the pie was- that it might be a romantic gesture?"

Dean stared at him, his face on fire. Great, so Cas had been completely clueless and this Meg chick had to go and rat him out? And now he was here to, what, make sure Dean knew nothing was going to happen?

"Was it?" Cas prompted after a long silence.

Dean looked away. "Does it matter? Look, I promise I'm not gonna make things awkward if that's what you're worried about. Nothing has to change, I'll get over-"

"There was no proposal," Cas blurted. "I just wanted to give you flowers."

Dean blinked. "You-?"

"I intended to be honest with you but when the moment came, I lost my nerve." Cas smiled sheepishly. "So I made up a story about a botched proposal. The truth is I like you and I've wanted to ask you out for a while."

Dean laughed. He couldn't help it, this situation was beyond ridiculous.

"I wasn't testing out any new techniques," he admitted. "I just wanted to give you pie."

Cas' smile widened and if he'd been beautiful before it was nothing compared to now, beaming and pink-cheeked, eyes sparkling in the artificial glow of the streetlights. Dean wanted to kiss him so bad and for once, he had no excuse to hold back.

Cas must have been thinking the same thing because they met in the middle, noses bumping in their excitement, before Cas cupped Dean’s cheek and tilted his head, bringing their lips together. It was a sweet kiss and Dean smiled as he could taste the apples and cinnamon on Cas’ lips.

Dean’s heart was pounding as they parted, stomach fluttering with what felt suspiciously like butterflies.

“I know offering pastries to a baker might be as useless as offering flowers to a florist,” Cas said, “but I have some pie left over if you’d-”

Dean cut him off with a quick kiss. “Baker or no, I never turn down pie.”

But even with the promise of pie Dean was in no hurry to move and neither, it seemed, was Cas, because they lingered in the doorway, trading kisses until their noses had gone cold and Cas’ dark hair was dusted with melting snowflakes.

#galaxystiel #perlukafarinn writes #deancas #destiel #spn fanfic #au fic #first kiss #fluff #bakery au #your wish list said you wanted fluff and love food AUs so i hope this delivered!

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dem-obscure-imagines · 4 years

Text

The Rest of Our Forever

George Weasley x Reader

Fandom: Harry Potter

Note: This is a sequel to “Stuck With Me”. As always, fuck J.K. Rowling, trans rights are human rights. As a reminder, reader has healing powers.

Summary: After George proposes to you, you spend some time reflecting on all of the moments that have led you to where you are.

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR DEATHLY HALLOWS…mentions of death. Other than that, a little angst and a lot of fluff.

Word Count: 6.3k

“You look so beautiful, (Y/N)…” Ginny murmured. She tucked the sparkling tiara into your hair, which Fleur had pulled up into an elegant updo.

“That’s thanks to all of you.”

“Oh, no dear, you’re always beautiful.” Molly scolded. She had something in her hand, a little box. “Now, (Y/N), if it’s not too much to ask, I have this necklace for you to wear. You still need ‘something borrowed.’”

Molly pulled out a simple heart-shaped locket.

“Oh, Molly, it’s beautiful…” You covered your mouth with your hands, eyes tearing up. Molly had always been so accepting of you into her family, and this was, of course, no exception. “Of course I’d love to wear it. Thank you so much.”

“Anything for our newest Weasley.” She beamed, standing behind you to fasten the clasp around your neck. “I am so, unbelievably happy for you, dear. You make our Georgie so happy.”

You smiled, your heart racing just thinking about him. “He makes me so happy, too…”

***

You were nervous. So, unbelievably nervous. You were the only child in your family, a Muggleborn witch, and you had no idea what you were getting yourself into. So, wide-eyed and scared, you started wandering King’s Cross. You had no idea how you were supposed to get to Platform 9¾, and you were far too shy to ask, so instead you wandered towards 9 and 10, looking around desperately for someone who was like you. Someone who would make you feel less alone.

It was then that you were literally knocked off of your feet by a pair of red-headed twins. One of them immediately turned, a guilty look on his face at the sight of you, sitting on the concrete floor.

“Look what you’ve done, Fred! You’ve bulldozed her!” He called at his twin, who was looking on somewhat apologetically. “Sorry about him. He has no sense for this sort of thing. A bit clumsy, that one.” He held out his hand and you locked eyes with him. In that moment, something clicked inside of you and you stared up at him in shock for a moment before you took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “I’m George Weasley.”

“I’m (Y/N) (L/N),” you introduced, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Are you going to…um…” you leaned in and whispered, “Hogwarts?”

He nodded. “Are you a first year, too?”

“I am. I…don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t worry. You can follow us.” Fred encouraged.

“Meeting friends already, boys?” Molly asked. Her face lit up in a warm, welcoming smile when she saw the look on your face. “What’s your name, dear?”

“I’m (Y/N).” You introduced shyly.

“Well, Miss (Y/N), we will get you to Hogwarts in one piece, don’t you worry one bit. Now go on, George, you go first.”

“See you on the other side.” He said with a wink, taking ahold of his cart and pushing it straight through the platform.

You watched in awe as he disappeared into the brick pillar. “Woah…”

Fred went next, and then some of the twins’ older brothers. And then you took your turn, running straight through the brick wall and into a train platform identical to the one you’d just left. George was waiting there with a lopsided supportive smile.

“See? It’s not so bad.”

“It’s not.” You agreed.

“Do you have anyone to sit with?” George asked, realizing that since you were there alone, you probably didn’t have any wizard friends.

You shook your head, your lip pulled between your teeth.

“You can sit with us, if you like.” Fred offered with a smile. “I owe you one for knocking you over earlier.” When he said it, he stepped on George’s foot.

Pain shot through your toes and you looked down, but found that there was nothing there to cause it. Instead, George cursed and lifted his foot.

“Merlin, Fred! Watch it!”

You were stunned into silence, staring at George and at his foot and then back at yours, and all at once, you understood the feeling that had clicked in your chest when you’d first locked eyes with him. You had a feeling that you were going to have to get used to George Weasley…

***

It was your fourth year. You were worried about lots of things. Namely, the giant snake roaming the castle, and additionally, your best friend’s sister had disappeared because of it. You were headed down to the common room because you couldn’t sleep, but you quickly found that someone else had the very same idea. You heard sniffling, but until you got closer, you couldn’t tell who it was.

“George?” You asked softly. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…” He lied, quickly wiping his tears away. “Even in the dark, you can tell us apart, huh?”

“It’s not that hard, really.” You said, walking around the edge of the couch and sitting down next to him. “You and Fred are more different than people give you credit for.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” You nodded and summoned a tissue with your wand, offering it to him with a careful hand. He took it and used it to wipe away the remnants of his tears. “Big time.”

“How so?”

“Well, your eyes are the easiest tell. Yours are tilted down a little bit. And your noses are different. And your lips have an extra dip to them that Fred’s don’t.”

He smirked a bit. “Staring at my lips, are you?”

You winked. “Only on occasion.”

He laughed, giving you a playful nudge. But then, his expression turned sullen again. “Do…do your powers happen to work on feelings?”

You chuckled and shook your head. “They don’t, I’m sorry. I’m a good listener, though.”

“I’m just worried about Ginny.” His voice cracked and tears rolled down his cheeks. “W-what if—”

“They’re going to find her, George. I can feel it.”

“If she’s hurt…” his tear-filled eyes met yours, but he didn’t finish his question, shaking his head. Your powers were a secret and he knew that. He couldn’t ask that of you, it wasn’t his place.

You looked at him and your heart melted. You pulled him into your arms, a hand stroking through his red hair comfortingly, the way he did when you were feeling down. You leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “If she’s hurt, I will heal her just like I’ve been healing you.” You hugged him tighter. “I promise.”

He gave you a grateful squeeze, surrendering to his sobs and your warmth, letting you soothe the heavy feelings weighing him down until his crying subsided to sniffles again. You really were good at making him feel better, and apparently, it did apply to more than just his injuries.

***

It was your fifth year. You and George had been dating for a little while now, a few months. As always, you were in the stands of every Quidditch game. And when Gryffindor won, as expected, you rushed down to the field with the rest of the students in the stands, hurrying to find George as quickly as you could.

You ran into Fred first, smiled at him, congratulated him on a good game, and then turned, looking for his brother. It had gotten a lot easier to find them since their growth spurt over the summer. Now, they towered over just about everybody, yourself included.

You turned around again, and found him standing right behind you. You launched yourself into his arms, giggling when he hoisted you off the ground and spun you around. You could feel through your bond that he had a bruise on his back, but that was a problem for later. “That was such a good game, Georgie! You were spectacular out there.”

“Of course I was.” He kissed your cheek and then your forehead. “I had my lucky charm up there cheering me on.” He set you back down on the ground, taking your hands in his.

Merlin, he looked so good in that uniform, especially with his longer hair all messed up from the game.

“See something you fancy?” He raised an eyebrow, admiring the lovestruck look on your face.

“You look so hot in uniform.” You murmured, your lip caught between your teeth.

His eyes sparkled and he leaned in closer. “Oh yeah, (L/N)?”

“Mmhmm.” You hummed innocently. You stood on your toes and pressed a kiss to his lips, which he quickly deepened, pulling you up to him and leaning down to meet you in the middle.

When you parted, he rested his forehead against yours, his warm breaths ghosting across your cheeks. His fingers intertwined with yours, and he inhaled a nervous little breath.

“(Y/N), come home for Christmas with me this year.” He whispered, his sparkling eyes waiting anxiously for a reply.

“I’d love to, George.” You nodded and wrapped your arms around his muscled torso, nuzzling your face into his chest. His long arms wrapped around you and you felt his head rest against yours.

“Good, because my mum loves you and she’s been on me about it for weeks.”

“Awwwww, I love your mom.” You looked up at George and then added. “Now let’s go upstairs and fix up your bruises because damn that bludger hurt like a bitch.”

“Right. Sorry about that, love.” He took your hand and kissed it, swinging it between you as you made your way up to the common rooms.

***

When Christmas break finally came around, you were excited, but you were also a little nervous. You’d met the majority of the Weasleys, but you hadn’t seen most of them since you and George had started dating. You knew they liked you as his friend just fine, but you weren’t sure how they would feel about you as George’s girlfriend.

All your worries, however, were set aside when you stepped through the front door of the Burrow and Molly pulled you into the warmest hug, absolutely buzzing with excitement.

“George wrote me about the good news, dear! I’m so glad he finally plucked up the courage! He’s fancied you since third year and I was beginning to think he’d never get around to telling you.”

You blushed red and laughed, looking back at George for confirmation. “Third year, huh?”

He grinned guiltily, his cheeks steadily reddening. “Alright, woman, let’s not spill all my secrets just yet. She just got here.”

“Right, right, of course.” Molly let go of you. “Would you like some tea, dear?”

“Sure, thank you!” You smiled. Once she walked over towards the kettle, you looked up at George, smiling. “Third year…”

“Yeah, yeah. But I mean, could you blame me?” His eyes held so much more information than he was saying, and you appreciated the subtlety. He really was committed to keeping your secret a secret.

“I guess I am quite the catch.” You shrugged, laughing.

He slung a long arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him. He kissed your temple softly before whispering, “That you are.”

The way the sleeping arrangements were, you were in Ginny’s room with Ginny and Hermione, and this had led to some playful gossip, which you, for one, loved. As an only child, you’d always wanted a sister, and Ginny and Hermione really did feel like your sisters after everything you’d all been through.

“I still can’t believe you’re dating George.” Ginny grinned, shaking her head. “I’m happy, believe me, but I can’t believe he finally asked you out. He’s been pining like a lovesick puppy for so long…”

“Oh my gosh, really?” You giggled. “That’s adorable.”

“I think it’s sweet. You always have had a special bond.” Hermione added, thinking. “It was inevitable, really.”

“Yeah, I think so, too.” You nodded. “If he didn’t ask me out, I think eventually, I would have just pushed him into a wall and kissed him senseless.”

“Ew.” Ginny gagged.

“Well, I, for one, would have enjoyed it.” George piped up from the doorway, the look in his eyes soft, but with a hint of mischief. “Just came to say goodnight, love.”

You stood up and walked over to him. His Christmas pajamas were draped over his long frame, the ends of his pants not quite reaching all the way down to his ankles. Cute.

He pulled you into the hallway for a bit of privacy from the girls. Once you were out of sight, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours softly. You reciprocated just as gently.

“Merry Christmas.” He whispered, his voice deeper than usual because of how tired he was. It was indeed getting late, and you were sure that was why the next three words slipped through his perfect lips. “I love you.”

You were both quiet for a beat. He sobered up immediately, realizing what he’d just whispered, his eyes widening. He stuttered, “I…uh…”

Your heart raced and you replied, “I love you too.” You stood on your toes and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning into his ear to whisper, “I love you so much, George.”

His arms circled around your frame, hugging you tight as he exhaled a long sigh. “Good. It just…slipped out, but I do mean it. I love you (Y/N) (L/N). I have for a very long time.”

***

The next morning, all the Weasleys gathered around. You walked into the living room and looked around for an empty spot to sit. Luckily, there was one right next to George. It was a tight fit, but you didn’t mind being squished up next to him.

There were loads of presents in piles scattered across the floor. Molly handed you a large parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, and when you opened it, there was a (favorite color) sweater inside with a giant (your initial) knitted into it. Your eyes widened and you gasped.

“Mrs. Weasley, this is amazing! Thank you so much!” You just about cried, tears threatening to blur your vision.

“Of course, dear.” She hugged you tightly, kissing the top of your head motherly. “You’re a member of the family, after all.”

And in that moment, surrounded by all of the Weasleys and Harry and Hermione, George’s hand on your knee and a proud look in his eye, you knew she was right. Being with them in the Burrow was exactly where you belonged.

***

“Alright, Fred, take a look.” You handed him a mirror and he held it up, admiring the three-leafed clover you’d painted onto his face. The Weasleys had invited you to the Quidditch World Cup with them, so currently, you were in their tent, painting the twins’ faces.

“Wicked!” He grinned. “Thanks, (Y/N)!”

“Of course.” You turned to your boyfriend. “Georgie? You want face paint?”

“Just do mine like yours, love. We can match.” He smiled softly up at you.

“Ugh,” Fred grimaced, “look what you’ve done, (L/N). You’ve turned my brother into a softy.”

“He was a softy way before I interfered.” You laughed.

George was about to protest, but you settled yourself into his lap, shutting him right up.

“Just tell me if I’m getting too close.” You whispered, dipping the brush you were using in green face paint and carefully drawing stripes on his face.

He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “That’s impossible, darling.”

“Eww, gross.” Fred threw a throw pillow at you, causing you both to giggle.

“Everyone ready?” Arthur asked.

“Just about.” Fred called.

You put the final touches on George’s face paint so it was identical to yours, green and white stripes on your cheeks. You leaned forward and kissed his nose. “All done.”

You got up and followed the boys out to the stadium. The game was fantastic, and you loved seeing how excited the twins got. You had never really gotten to watch Quidditch with George. Every other time you saw a game, he was the one playing in it, so it was fun to see just how riled up he got. You didn’t think it was possible to fall any further in love with him, but steadily, you were.

After the game, George could tell you were tired, so he bent down in front of you, his arms reaching out behind him. You hopped up onto his back and his arms latched under your thighs, carrying you back to the tent with ease. He set you on the couch and you watched tiredly as the twins paraded around the tent, very excited about Ireland’s win. You were sort of drifting in and out, but then George was kneeling in front of you, very serious, his eyes wide.

“Death Eaters. We have to go.”

He tugged you to your feet and you followed him, your hand clasped tightly in his larger, stronger one. You both had your wands out, and you followed Arthur’s lead until finally, you’d all made it to safety. Well, after they went back to find Harry, of course. You didn’t even realize you’d gotten hurt until you all made it back to the Burrow.

At first, you thought it was George who’d burned his hand, but when you looked down, it was your skin that was reddened and irritated.

You poked it with curious fingers and hissed at the pain. George perked up immediately, grabbing your good hand and pulling you to the kitchen after him. He placed himself so his body was a shield between you and the rest of his family, giving you privacy to heal yourself.

“Go ahead, love.” He watched you expectantly, but you shook your head, looking up at him.

“It doesn’t work like that, Georgie.” You lit your hand and held it above the burned skin, but nothing happened. “It doesn’t work on me.”

“Well that’s not fair.” He bit his lip and shook his head. He hoisted you up onto the kitchen counter, causing you to squeak at the unexpected movement. He smiled softly and pushed hair out of the front of your face, leaning in to kiss you gently. And then, he whispered, “My turn to patch you up, then, love.”

He left for a moment and returned with medical supplies. In his absence, you’d started running the burn under some cold water to stop it from hurting for a little bit. He got out some burn ointment and gauze, and once you’d dried off your hand a bit, he dabbed the ointment on gently with his careful finger. Then, he wrapped it up. You stared at him as he worked, focus evident on his handsome features and obscured only slightly by the long hair he was sporting recently.

When he was finished, he looked back up at you to find the softest look he’d ever seen gracing your face. He chuckled. “What?”

“Nothing.” You bit your lip. “Just thinking is all.”

“About what?” He pressed, mischief and love in his eyes.

“You.” You laughed to yourself. Even perched up on the counter, he still towered over you. You reached forward and tugged him closer by the fabric of his shirt. Then, as you leaned in to kiss him, you whispered, “It’s always you…”

***

“Woah…” You murmured, walking in through the front doors of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes for the first time. It was just as colorful as you’d expected it to be, knowing the wizards who had put the place together. They were especially busy today, and you hadn’t had time to stop in since you’d finally escaped Umbridge’s iron grasp and graduated. There were toys and candies and treats all over the place.

You wandered around, admiring everything until you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around and found yourself face to face with Fred, an amused grin on his face.

“About time you came here, (L/N). We thought you’d never pop in.”

“This place is amazing, Fred. I can’t believe you two…well, no that’s not true. You’re the most creative people I’ve ever met, of course you pulled something this spectacular off.”

“Cut it with the flattery.” Fred crossed his arms, grinning proudly. “You’re not getting the ‘dating my brother’ discount.”

“Darn.” You laughed. “Speaking of…?”

“He’s upstairs helping some customers. Should be down in a second.”

“Right here, love.” He walked down the stairs, and you had to do a double-take at the sight of him looking so sharp in his work suit, his hair spiked up away from his face.

“Wow.” You whistled, taking him in. “You look sharp.”

“We’re literally identical.” Fred looked from your lovestruck face to his twin and then back to you. “What did you think he would look like after you’ve already seen me?”

“What can I say, Freddie? I’ve just got my own charm.” George chuckled, stopping in front of you. He cupped your cheeks in his hands and raised your face to his, kissing you passionately, but briefly, for the sake of both his brother and the customers.

When you parted, you spoke softly. “You hurt your hand yesterday, didn’t you?”

“Cut my knuckle…” He admitted, looking down at you sheepishly. “Sorry, love.”

“Don’t be sorry, just let me fix it.” You stood on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“We’ll be in the back room, Freddie.” George told him, tugging you towards the storage room.

“I won’t wait up, lovebirds.” Fred winked.

You laughed and shook your head at him. Once the door was closed behind you and George, you set to work, hand lit with magic as you healed up the tiny wound on his middle finger. You took his hand in yours and kissed the now-healed spot. “There. All better.”

“Thank you.” He pulled you into a tight hug, exhaling a sigh he’d been holding in for far too long. He hated that he didn’t get to see you every day like he used to. He hated being apart from you for days or weeks at a time. “Love, I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.”

He was quiet for a beat, his arms still wrapped around you. A thought presented itself to him in his mind and he mulled it over for a beat before he blurted, “You should move in with us.”

Your heart raced. “Yeah?”

“Our flat isn’t much, but…I happen to think it would be a lot better if you were here.”

You nodded, looking up at him, your eyes sparkling. “I think so, too.”

***

And then came the fateful night when you’d found George bleeding on the couch and you’d revealed your secret to his entire family in order to heal his ear. And then, he’d proposed.

It was the morning after. You’d talked to Molly about it, and she’d had some questions. You told her you could feel George’s pain, that you were connected somehow and that because of it, you’d been healing every injury he’d had since he broke his arm third year. When she heard, she pulled you into the tightest hug and thanked you and told you how happy you’d crossed paths with George all those years before.

You were wrapped up in one of George’s sweaters. The sleeves hung far beyond your fingertips, and you were drowning in the fabric, but it was cozy and warm and it smelled like him, so you were happy.

You wandered downstairs, still a little drowsy. George was definitely more of a morning person than you were, and he was already wide awake and down in the kitchen, drinking coffee. You found him leaning against the counter, a smug look on his face and a toothbrush sticking out of his ear; the very ear you’d patched up the night before.

“Moooorning.” He drawled, his voice still extra deep from waking up.

You raised an eyebrow, laughing at the toothbrush. “Do I even wanna know?”

“Just making sure it still works, love.” He grinned, pulling the toothbrush out of his ear and setting it on the counter.

“How did I do, by the way?” You walked up closer to get a better look. There was one chunk in the middle of his outer ear that was missing, but the skin was healed and closed up, and you weren’t getting any pain through the bond you shared, so you weren’t sure how much more you could do for him. “Aww, I missed a bit.”

“I’m pretty sure I lost that when it happened. Don’t worry about it.” He shook his head, his eyes soft. “It’s because of you I even still have this ear at all.”

“You’re all dressed up early.” You noted, looking at him in his suit. Bill and Fleur’s wedding was today, but you were nowhere near ready.

“I have to set up the tent with dad in a bit.” He explained. He set down his coffee and opened his arms.

You caved, walking closer to him and wrapping your arms around him, curling into his chest.

He kissed your forehead, stroking through your hair, a smile on his face. “How’s my fiancé doing today?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you hugged him tighter, your cheeks flushed red. “So much better, now.”

“It’ll be our wedding next, love.”

“I’m gonna cry.” You whispered, your voice shaking as you were overcome with the emotion of everything that was happening. You were engaged to a man you’d been in love with since you were thirteen and you couldn’t have been happier about it. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

George wiped the tear from your cheek and pulled you in for a long kiss. “I can’t wait to marry you either.”

***

The battle was intense. Spells were slinging every which way. Explosions sounded, the castle crumbled, and you watched as your friends fought for their lives against the Death Eaters determined to strike them down.

You’d been separated from George about twenty minutes before, but you hadn’t felt any pain through your bond, so you weren’t as concerned as you would be if you knew something was happening out of your sight.

You spent most of the battle patching people up as quietly and privately as you could manage. If the Death Eaters knew you were a healer, you knew they’d kill you immediately. You were too valuable to the wizards you cared about.

You had your wand out, slinging spells at whatever Death Eaters you could, disarming them and flinging their wands into oblivion. You ran through the violent halls, keeping an eye out for George and watching for anyone who needed help.

You spotted Fred and Percy and you made your way closer to them.

It was then that the explosion went off.

The walls crumbled, and Fred collapsed. You sprinted to him as fast as you could, diving onto the floor. Percy walked over, panic evident on his face.

Your heart sank. Fred wasn’t breathing. And yet, kneeling over him, you could still feel a zing in his chest. Maybe it was your powers, or maybe it was what you were always meant to do, the reason you’d been connected with George, but you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt: you had to save Fred Weasley.

You tucked your wand into your pocket and raised both of your hands, lighting them with the brightest golden healing music you could muster. You focused on the zing still hovering in his chest. It was fainter than it had been a few seconds before. You didn’t have much time, and you knew that.

“Percy, cover us. I can save him, but I have to work quickly.”

“On it.” Percy nodded, putting his back to yours and raising his wand while you pushed every ounce of power you had into the middle of Fred’s chest.

You stayed there for a long time, your hands glowing, Percy slinging spells to protect you and his dying little brother. Finally, after what felt like eternities, Fred’s chest rose and fell and rose and fell. You kept pushing, intense focus in every move you made, every breath you took.

His eyes fluttered open and he looked up at you, confused.

“What’s going on?” he asked weakly.

“You died.” You replied, still pushing energy into his chest. “But George needs a best man at our wedding, so that’s not an option.”

He chuckled hoarsely. “Well, thank you, for the record.”

“Don’t mention it til I’m finished.” You kept at it, watching as the color returned to his cheeks. “Just keep breathing for me, Weasley.”

“I can do that.”

You kept radiating energy into Fred, and as you did, you felt blood drip from your nostril, the world starting to spin around you. You stopped.

Fred sat up, looking at you with wide eyes. “Hey now, breathe for me, (L/N).”

You nodded, your blinks getting longer. Then, all at once, you slumped over, the world going black.

***

You woke up in a pair of strong arms, held against a shaking chest, droplets of water dripping down onto your face. A pair of lips kissed your forehead over and over, and a familiar voice murmured, “I’m so sorry, love. So, so sorry…” He sobbed. “I should have been there…”

“Georgie, why are you crying?” You asked softly, looking up at him.

He froze, going quiet. He looked down and met your gaze, tears rolling down his cheeks as he pulled you into a more upright position, just about crushing you against his chest. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” He exhaled a long sigh. “You…you weren’t breathing, and I thought…”

“We all thought…” Fred met your gaze over George’s shoulder, guilt all over his face.

Looking up, you found yourself surrounded by Weasleys, who, until a few moments ago, thought you were dead.

You pulled away from George’s neck to get a better look at his face. You cupped his cheek with a gentle hand and rested your forehead against his. “I’m not going anywhere.” You kissed him softly before adding, “You’re stuck with me, Weasley.”

He couldn’t hold in his tears when he finished, “Gee, real shame that is.”

You wrapped your arms around him and tugged him closer. He held you like it was the last time he would ever get to. Your hand rose to run through his hair.

“I’m right here,” you whispered, trying to comfort him. “I’m right here, George. I love you so much…”

***

After the battle, once the dust had settled and Voldemort was dead once and for all, you’d volunteered to help clean up. George and Fred had accompanied you, wanting to help out however they could, so the three of you were currently fixing the collapsed walls.

“I didn’t know you could bring dead people back to life.” Fred said, looking down the hallway to the remains of the very wall that had taken him out.

“Neither did I.” You chuckled, waving your wand at the rubble and watching as it floated back into place, repairing as though it had never been broken in the first place. “But I knew I couldn’t let you die.”

“Thanks for that, by the way.” Fred laughed. “I owe you whatever sweets you want from the shop for the rest of our lives.”

“Deal.”

Once the hallway was all fixed up, George took your hand and gave it a squeeze. “Do you want to take a walk with me, love?”

“Yeah, I could use some air.” You nodded. “See you in a bit, Fred.”

Fred gave George a knowing look that went over your head. You followed George through the castle and then out the doors and down towards the lake. It was a beautiful day, just chilly enough to warrant George’s oversized sweater draped over your frame. The sky was blue and there was a gentle breeze. Even the lake was serene, occasional ripples disturbing the clear surface.

Once you stopped walking, George took his hand out of yours. He took a breath and you looked up at him, waiting for him to say whatever was on his mind.

“My mum…found this. It was my grandmother’s. I figured I should do this properly.” George said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little velvet box.

You covered your mouth, tears fogging your vision as he got on one knee, opening the box to reveal the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen.

“(Y/N) (L/N), over these past four years, you’ve made me the happiest wizard in the world. Will you marry me?”

And once again, you replied, “Yes. Of course I will marry you, George Weasley.”

***

“Are we all ready in here, ladies?” A tall red-haired wizard popped his head into Ginny’s room, where you and the others were getting ready.

“George! Get out of here! It’s bad luck!” Molly started scolding, but stopped abruptly. “Sorry, Fred. Yes, we’re all ready.”

“And you call yourself our mother…” Fred shook his head, a mischievous smirk on his face. “Where’s the lady of the hour?”

“Right here.” You stood from the makeshift vanity and turned to face your fiancé’s twin.

He took you in, letting out a low whistle. “You’re gonna make Georgie cry.”

“That was the goal.” Ginny smiled, adjusting your veil.

You looked in the mirror one last time, fiddling with the silk fabric of your skirt, and then you followed Fred and the others down the stairs. It was going to be a simple ceremony. Remus Lupin was officiating. It would just be your friends and family in attendance. Quite honestly, you would have married George Weasley on your front porch with only the mailman as a witness. You loved him endlessly, and you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with him.

You followed the procession of bridesmaids and groomsmen. Your father walked you down the aisle, and as soon as George laid eyes on you, his breath caught in his throat and tears fogged up his vision. There she was. His wife. His beautiful wife who he’d been in love with for six years.

When you finally got to him, he gently lifted the veil off of your face, studying your features as though he’d be tested on them later.

“Hey there, love.” He whispered, trying to dispel his own nerves along with yours.

“Hey.” You whispered back, smiling softly.

Remus started the ceremony and you said your vows and exchanged your rings and then, finally, you kissed him. George’s hands framed your cheeks and he met you in the middle, kissing you passionately.

When the two of you parted, he whispered, “What now, Mrs. Weasley?”

“Now, Mr. Weasley…” you slipped both of your hands into his and gave them a squeeze, “we get started on the rest of our forever.”

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george #george x reader #george imagine #hp #hp imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine

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peachnewt · 3 years

Text

Midnight Snack - Gingerbread 1

Merry Christmas, ya’ll!

I wanted to do something for the holidays involving my slow burn boys. Somehow, this rose to the top. Here is the first taste of Louis and Will switching places in the pred/prey relationship, while in a fantasy setting. ^_^

Midnight Snack - Gingerbread

by peachnewt

Part 1

Once upon a time, a mountain in the West grew so tall that it's peaks, covered in icy snow, would reflect the sun's light like a candle, lighting the valley with a golden glow an hour after sunset. Thus, the mountain was called the Lantern Pillars and the inhabitants of the valley benefitted from the extra hours of light to store away supplies for the harsh winter and pursue artistic endeavors. Buildings and towers stretched like candles ever upwards, bearing banners and stained glass that could be seen in any blizzard. The valley, called Wax Wake, became the jewel of the Pillars, a destination for many nobles and merchant passing through the mountains with their exotic goods.

But one area of the Pillars lay in the lee of the various crags and slopes in the mountain range; a rocky, forested area called the Greyfells. In that dim and cold stretch of land lived a giant name Louis, the Grey.

Louis was an imposing figure, standing almost eighty feet high with wide shoulders, ice gray eyes, and a silvery blond mane of hair. This wasn't a "fee-fi-fo-fum" giant that barreled around the countryside in rough furs, demanding maidens to keep his cave tidy, or oxen to feed his hunger, or gold to upkeep his lifestyle. His mother raised him and his two older brothers better. He kept his cave in semi-chaotic order with baskets and hangers for his possessions, did his own laundry, varied his diet with vegetables and other forage-foods so he didn't need to spend as much money on meat, and he had a yearly stipend for protecting mountain passes from bandits and clearing out rubble for merchant caravans.

But Louis still wore rough furs. Why wear fine wool or linens when they would tear on the slopes? Plus it was cold up there.

And Louis did have a temper. While he didn't boom "fee-fi-fo-fum", he did grumble like a storm when the local coffee house didn't count out enough beans to last until his next monthly grocery run. It was basic math, take the normal about of coffee a person needed and scale it up by sixteen.

When one passed through the mountain trails they saw deep pits from fists, slashes of red, and the strike of an axe blade bigger than a wagon. Sometimes, at night when the Lantern Pillars had dimmed the townsfolk could see sparks flying in the Greyfells, an axe hitting stone. They heard tale of blood-thirst and violence from a surviving bandit that surrendered himself to the authorities in Wax Wake after the band he had been allied with had been destroyed.

At one point in the early Autumn, Louis left for a week. "Visiting family", he said to those left in charge of the mountain pass. When he came back, he had dark bags under his eyes, a large sack over his shoulder, and a posture akin to a starved wolf.

"I'm working on something important," he growled at the human guards. "I'll do my rounds, but don't expect anything else unless it's an emergency."

It had been customary for Wax Wake to hire the giant to help clean the stain glass of their towers, since he could reach them so easily, and hang the new banners for the winter celebrations. They dared not ask this year. Louis stayed in the Greyfells.

No One with any brains or sense of self preservation wandered near the Greyfells, or pried into Louis the Grey's business.

***

"If I had any brains I would have stayed with a caravan and waited until morning," William hissed to himself and the blizzard. His booted feet sunk into another snowdrift.

William had been traveling with a group of builders and craftsmen on their way to Wax Wake to peddle their wears and skills. It was a rite of passage to try their hands in the jeweled city. But their wagon axel broke halfway down the mountain. They hadn't the supplies to repair it and civilization was half a day away. William had offered to find help, and went off in the direction of Wax Wake. Except a blizzard had descended; white, blinding, howling, turning him around until he could not tell north from south.

Night had fallen. William, still lost, squinted for any sign of light in the darkness. He tucked his hands under his armpits, sinking his chin into the scarf around his neck.

His nose, not his sight, had been his salvation. William smelled cloves, ginger, and cinnamon on the breeze. Cookies? William thought. Spicebread? He hadn't eaten since noon and his stomach growled, bidding him onward.

He saw a faint light in the same direction as the scent. Shelter, he hoped.

William wove through the trees and scratching branches until the bramble broke into a clearing pure white. The wind died in the circle, the snow and moonlight pristine as it lit up a lopsided brown shack caked in bits of white. William didn't care how badly made the domicile was, it was shelter from the cold, hopefully occupied with someone that could help him, and feed him.

"Hello?" William trudged on towards the shack. Warm spice hung in the air along with the overwhelming aroma of sugar. And the snow under his feet felt different, more like sand.

He peered into the shack. A stub of a candle, as big around as his thigh, had been lit and took up the majority of the wooden floor. No furniture, no people aside from him.

"Anyone home?"

What an odd house, he mused. Stepping inside, the smell of gingerbread surrounded him, yet the only piece of gingerbread he saw was a stale hunk the size of his fist to the side of the candle. If no one was home, they wouldn't be grudge him a bit of gingerbread from the floor.

While chewing on the hunk of gingerbread, delicious, he examined the rest of the rough house. The vaulted roof had gaps filled in with a white paste burned from the candle. His eye followed the wall, attached to the roof with a tilt, leaving another gap filled in with white paste. The house wasn't hewn from stone, brick, or wood. Was it wattle and daub? Clay?

Will tested a ragged, brown wall, scratching it with a cold fingernail. "It's gingerbread?"

The tiny scratch, however, was enough to test the structural integrity of the shack and find it wanting.

Down came the walls, burying William in giant slabs of gingerbread, snuffing the candle.

---

Will woke stuck between a pool of slowly cooling wax and a slab of gingerbread pinning him across his stomach. Will gasped, trying to fill his lungs. Despite its confectionary nature, the slab of what had once been a roof, or perhaps a wall, could not be shifted no matter how much he struggled. Pinned as he was, he couldn't eat his way out either. He would either freeze to death, or suffocate.

Will bleated out into the night for help until his throat felt like sand and the wax under him had hardened. Then he heard a rumble, vibrating the ground and making the edge of the roof dig deeper into his belly.

An avalanche?

Instead Will heard of roar of frustration and the slab over him was lifted as if it was light as a feather.

A giant face, bearded, blond, and full of icy fury stared at him. The whispered giant of the Greyfells dressed in furs and breath of frost.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?!"

***

Louis had stomped through the forest towards the protective circle he had set up for his project. He carried a bag of red candies and a pot of icing with a small trowel. If he could get all of the decorations up tonight then he could sleep in the next day. When he arrived, he saw a set of footprints in the pristine snow, and the gingerbread house collapsed. Of course when he lifted the roof he'd find a meddling human.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me!?" Louis snapped.

"What?" breathed the human.

Louis tossed the gingerbread roof to the ground where it broke into four pieces, and then pulled the brown haired human out with one hand. He stared at little menace, eye to beady eye. "I've been trying to keep this damned house together with sugar paste and a prayer, and then you come along and nibble on it like a fuckin' mouse until it falls?!"

"It was an accident!" yelled the human, pawing at the large hand that held him with his one free arm. The tips of his feet, sticking out the other end of the giant's fist, twitched. "I was lost and looking for shelter and food. And the shack wasn't stable, I barely touched it! And the only piece of gingerbread I ate had already fallen from the walls!"

"Shack!?" Fury lit up the giant's eyes like lightning. He squeezed the human just enough to make him wheeze. "I worked all day on this house and you call it a shack?"

"S-sorry, but by definition it was a shack. Though a delicious one. I'm sure you can build a better one in a few hours."

Louis didn't want to admit that the fallen shack had taken him two days, and had been his best effort out of seven.

"I'm out of patience, out of my mind, and out of coffee," growled Louis. He felt cruel and liked it, tapping into the reputation giants had gained as blood-thirsty ogres. "You picked the wrong day to piss me off. Cause I also haven't eaten in the last five days."

Will gulped, suddenly nervous at seeing the giant's perfect grin. "There is something admiral to be found in fasting in protest or in pursuit of a passion. Why break such a streak? Why not six days?"

"Oh, I don't know." Louis let his growling stomach speak for itself, causing the human to blanche. "Maybe because it'll make me feel better."

"I'm sure we can talk about this in a reasonable manner!" screeched the human as he was pulled closer to the giant's mouth.

"Reason left long ago." Around the same time he had left to visit home and got saddled with this ridiculous task.

"There is always time for reason. Starting with introductions! I'm William James Rowe from Brex." William stuck his hand out in the giant's directions, as if expecting a handshake. "And you are?"

Louis unclenched his jaw and breathed in the smell of sweat, sugar, and fear. "Hungry."

Part 2

#Giant/tiny #pred/prey #midnight snack #g/t writing #peachnewt

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writingblackpink · 3 years

Text

Home for the Holidays

genre: so much fluff

word count: 3.5k

pairing: jisoo x reader

you bring Jisoo home for the holidays for the first time.

A/N: there’s so much fluff I think I got a cavity writing this idk....anyway, like always, let me know what you think! Enjoy :)

Snow settled against your windshield silently before melting away as you drove through the streets. There was just enough snow on the ground to cover the grass, making for a perfect white Christmas. Christmas music played softly from the radio as you passed house after house dressed up in twinkling lights and holiday displays.

You always loved being home for the holidays. When you were younger, that meant helping your parents with the party set-up and welcoming family from all over to stay for the week, making your home and your heart feel full and warm. Hearing laughter and happy conversation through the halls made your heart feel so full that sometimes you thought it would burst. In the best way, of course.

As you grew older and went off to college, coming home for the holidays was a respite from your “new” life. You loved all of the new experiences you were encountering and you cherished all you learned during your time away, but there was something in the familiarity of being back home that gave you a chance to rest and recharge with those you loved the most.

For the last few years, it’s just been you. You’ve been ok with coming back home alone, but you always knew something was missing. Getting older alongside your relatives and seeing them bring people that were special to them made you long for that same feeling. You wanted to feel as strongly for someone else as you perceived they had also felt.

You had felt that emptiness until now, Jisoo in the passenger seat of your car, heading home for the holidays to meet your family for the very first time. Your family was very open and you knew they would love her just as much as you did, but Jisoo had expressed her nervousness for the holidays in the weeks prior to this day. You had assured her that there was nothing to be worried about and that your family would love her, but you knew there wasn’t much else you could do to quell her lingering fears about the week.

And now, sitting in the passenger seat of your car, you could sense that nervousness in the way she fidgeted a bit in her seat, in the way she nervously played with your fingers where your hands were intertwined over the center console.

“Jisoo, are you okay?” you asked, concern in your voice.

“Mhmm”, she affirmed, nodding slightly.

In her answer, you knew that she was swimming in her own thoughts and you just wanted to take the pressure off of the situation as best as you could.

“Jisoo, if you’re not ready for this, we can go somewhere else. Anywhere. I don’t want to force you to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“No,” she took a deep breath as she looked over at you, your eyes glued to the road, “I’m ready for this. It’s just a little nerves, I’ll survive.”

And she squeezed your hand where it sat to reassure you that everything was okay and she would be fine. You squeezed back in acknowledgement.

A half an hour later, you were pulling into the driveway of your childhood home. You made many memories in this house, even in this driveway. As you looked out the window at the snow-covered yard, you thought back to every winter when the neighbor kids would come over to sled down the hill in your front yard, or all of the impromptu snowball fights your family had in this very spot. These memories were burned into your brain like a novel you read over and over, but it was time for a new chapter with a new person.

Clearing your throat, you brought yourself back to your present, with Jisoo waiting patiently in her seat for your next move.

“Welcome home.” rang out softly from your lips as you gently leaned over and placed the softest kiss against her lips. While it wasn’t your current home, you hoped that Jisoo could see it as much of a second home, at the very least, as you have.

Jisoo smiled back at you while you reached for one of your bags, rummaging through to find what you were looking for.

“Ah, here they are. Since it’s Christmas Eve I packed us some Christmas cheer!” You said as you enthusiastically pulled out two nips of Fireball. Neither of you were really fond of the liquor, but you hoped that this would at least help calm some of Jisoo’s nerves.

“I know you’re nervous, so before we go in I thought we could have a little something that could help take the edge off?” You handed her a tiny bottle, and she grabbed it quickly, screwing off the lid and promptly downing the shot before you could even get yours out of your bag.

Following her lead, you downed yours quickly, feeling the alcohol burn all the way down your chest, warming you up in the car that was getting increasingly colder ever since you cut the engine just minutes ago. You coughed, trying to rid yourself of the urge to gag.

“How many of those did you bring?” Jisoo questioned, attempting to peer over to catch a glimpse into your bag.

“Uh, well I have a few more, but let’s get inside before we get too crazy. You haven’t even met the family yet.” She rolled her eyes at you and you chuckled.

You ran around the car to open the door for Jisoo before moving to grab your bags out of the back of the car. Walking hand in hand to the front door, you gave hers another squeeze and a reassuring smile.

Stopping before ringing the doorbell, you looked over one last time at Jisoo, silently asking if she was still alright. With a silent smile and nod, you dropped a bag so your free hand could ring the doorbell while your other hand remained locked with Jisoo’s.

You took a deep breath as you heard someone shifting the locks around on the other side of the door. As the door swung open, you were slightly relieved to see your little brother greet you first.

“Y/N! Welcome back home!” He exclaimed as he stepped forward and took you in his arms, wrapping you up tightly like you had just returned from war. He seemed stronger than you remember. You made a mental note to ask him about his lifting regimen these days. Stepping back, you straightened out your sweater as you reclaimed your spot next to Jisoo.

“Daniel, this is Jisoo, my girlfriend.”

And to your surprise, and Jisoo’s as well, he moved forward to give her a suffocating hug too.

“Ah, yes, Jisoo!” He exclaimed. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

He lowered his voice just so Jisoo could hear, “It’s an honor to meet the woman who makes my sister so happy.”

And he left it at that as he pulled away before she had a chance to respond, telling you that your parents were making one last grocery run before the party was set to start in an hour. Jisoo’s expression looked a little surprised, but you didn’t know if it was from the hug or something else your brother said, and you didn’t ask. At that, you took Jisoo’s hand and dragged her up to your old room to drop off your bags and get settled in for the next few days.

Opening the door sent you back in time a few years. Everything in your room was exactly as you left it years ago, your parents not moving anything as they hoped you would be back. The posters from your favorite bands as a child still hung along the walls, and the polaroids you took with your friends throughout the years sat pinned to a bulletin board.

“Woooow,” Jisoo said, pulling out the syllable, “your room is like a time capsule.”

You watched from your sitting position on your bed as she walked along the length of your dresser, looking at some of the photos in frames scattered across the top and brushing her fingers over some trinkets you had from when you were younger.

“Yeah, I guess my parents never really needed the extra space when I left so they just left everything as-is.”

“Your childhood room looks exactly how I imagined how it would look.”

Your eyebrows raised at that comment.

“Oh really? And how’s that?”

Jisoo paused, still looking through the photos on your dresser while responding. She hummed.

“You were into boy bands and friendship bracelets. You probably were friends with all the popular people, but had no interest in being one of them. Vanilla.”

Jisoo turned and walked over to you slowly, moving to straddle you at your position on the bed.

Although she was right, you to be shocked and gasped.

“Jisoo, did you just call me a vanilla?” Jisoo’s gaze zeroed in on your lips.

“Maybe, but I love it.”

“And I love you.”

Wrapping her arms around you, she leaned in for a deep kiss, which led to another kiss which led to another and soon you lost track of time in her lips, only briefly opening your eyes to steal a glance at the clock on the wall to see that there was only fifteen minutes before guests would be arriving.

“Jisoo….we have to…..get ready…..to go back….downstairs,” you managed to push out against her lips in between kisses, although you were reluctant to stop.

She gave you one last peck before pulling away and whispering an almost silent “I love you” before jumping off your lap and moving to get her bags settled as you headed to the bathroom to freshen up.

Walking back into the room, you were met with Jisoo in the middle of downing another shot she had stolen from your bag.

“Jisoo!”

She whipped around, empty bottle in her hand, and face plastered with faux guilt, cheeks warm and red and not just from the alcohol.

“Sorry?” She shrugged her shoulders, and when she saw you weren’t convinced, she continued.

“Listen, I’m fine. I’m more than fine.” She walked forward to take your hands in hers, moving in closely. You could still smell the alcohol on her breath as she spoke.

“I feel great. I’m with you. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Jisoo, shouldn’t I be the one reassuring you right now?”

In lieu of an answer, she wrapped her arms around your waist, resting her head just below your chin and swaying slightly. If what she wanted was a moment of calm before the party, you were more than happy to give it to her, folding in to her every want.

“You are. More than you know,” she said against your chest, pausing before adding, “the liquid courage is also helping.”

Before you knew it, you had lost track of time again, only being brought back when your brother sent a soft knock ringing through your room, letting you know that guests were arriving downstairs.

Giving Jisoo one last look over, you took her hand in yours, giving it one last squeeze. You couldn’t help but notice how each strand of her hair flowed down past her shoulders, perfectly in place. You smiled at her rosy cheeks. You don’t think you’d ever get tired of this sight.

“Alright, showtime.” you mumbled and turned to head downstairs.

You introduced Jisoo to your parents first and both of you were received with warm hugs and excited voices, happy to have the house full this holiday, and happy that you had a smile on your face. Your mom offered Jisoo a glass of wine, and she accepted while you declined, citing not “being a wine person” and instead mixing yourself a cocktail at the makeshift bar.

An hour later, too much food had been had, you and jisoo had made your rounds with the family, and you two were settled on the couch, snuggled closely and watching everyone around you.

“How are you doing?”

“Me?” She paused, droopy eyes shifting to meet yours. You could tell that she had slipped in a few more drinks throughout the night. “I’m...great. Your family is….so cool,” she added with a slow blink and you hugged her closer. Just as you had settled in together on the couch, your moment was interrupted by one of your younger cousins, except they weren’t interested in talking to you.

“Jisoo!” she squealed, both of you shooting to sit upright. The way Jisoo leaned a little too far to the right made you giggle a little, knowing she was feeling really good.

“Ye-yeah?”

“Jisoo come here I want to show you this game we’re playing.”

And with that, your cousin took your girlfriend’s hand, pulling her off the couch and to the other room where the kids were playing games. You waited a few moments before following, standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe and watching Jisoo melt right in with your family.

You made eye contact from across the room, and she gave you a wink before she put on an exaggerated expression to act interested in whatever the kids were trying to show her. You chuckled at the sight, inevitably thinking of your future with her. Sure you had only been together for just shy of a year, but you could see it all with her; getting married, moving in together, having kids, getting old, and every moment, good or bad, in between.

A hand on your shoulder brought you out of your daze, and you glanced over your shoulder to find your mother smiling with her gaze fixed on the scene in front of you two.

Keeping her eyes in that direction, she finally spoke up.

“Jisoo seems to be fitting in.”

“Yeah, she seems to be pretty popular with the kids.” you looked back at Jisoo, deeply focused on the game in front of her. Your mom broke her gaze and took in your expression as you smiled in Jisoo’s direction.

“I mean, she seems to be fitting in here, with us. All of us.” your mom added, and you were slightly stunned that one evening with Jisoo had led to your family’s immediate approval. You don’t know what you had expected, but you definitely thought it would take a little longer for your family to warm up to Jisoo. On the other hand, you weren’t surprised. You knew Jisoo and you knew she could charm anyone she met. Although you did appreciate the validation.

“R-really?” You stuttered out, clearly still surprised at your mother’s words.

“Yeah, everyone has been singing her praises all night. ‘That Jisoo girl seems nice’, ‘Your daughter looks good with Jisoo’. You know, things of that nature. I’d have to agree.” You both smiled as she paused.

“You love her, don’t you?”

And you didn’t even have to think before responding.

“Yeah, I really do.”

Your mother gestured for you to follow her in response, and you obediently did as she led you to her room where she pulled out a large jewelry box you had never seen before.

“I was going to wait to give you this until you had found your person,” and your eyes widened as her back was turned to you, still searching through the box.

“But it seems like you might have already done that so-” she turned around with a smaller box, opening it up to show you the beautiful ring that sat inside.

You didn’t think it was possible, but your eyes widened exponentially as you realized the implications of this interaction.

“This was your grandmother’s wedding ring. She wanted you to have it; to be able to give it to whoever you felt was worthy of your love; whoever made you happiest.” She extended her arm to hand you the box. Your eyes felt a little misty, and you knew your voice would crack if you tried to speak, so you settled for stepping in for a warm hug, letting her know wordlessly that you appreciated it more than she knew.

Pulling away, your mother spoke again.

“I’m proud of you, you know? Now, let’s get back to the party before people start looking for you.” you laughed and stuffed the small box in your pocket, heading to find Jisoo.

Except she wasn’t with the kids anymore, and when you asked them where she was they didn’t know, only half paying attention to you and half to the game they were immersed in. So, you weaved your way around the rooms, occasionally being stopped along the way to be asked about life from an aunt or an uncle or cousin. It took almost another twenty minutes to find Jisoo in the party, finding her where you should have checked first: the bar. She seemed immersed in conversation with a relative and you waited for them to part before making your way over to your girlfriend.

She leaned heavily into your side as you made it over to her. She had a cup in her hand and you could smell the peppermint alcohol on her breath. While still only tipsy, you couldn’t help but think that Jisoo was going to have one killer hangover tomorrow with all of the alcohol mixing she was doing tonight.

“Hey baby.” She whispered seductively into your ear, giving it a subtle swipe with her tongue, while moving her free hand to grope your ass.

Ok, so you’re not only dealing with tipsy Jisoo, but tipsy and frisky Jisoo. What a combination.

“OH!” you exclaimed while jumping back and taking her hand on your backside and moving it to your side as you whispered back.

“Jisoo, we have to keep it PG...children are here.”

You thought she was adorable when she pouted, so you laughed even though Jisoo did not think not being able to touch you was funny at all.

“Here, come here.”

You settled for a compromise, bringing her back to the couch you were settled on earlier, bringing her in close to you. So close that she was almost sitting on you, but at least you knew you could control what she was doing with her hands a little better from this spot.

It wasn’t long before people started leaving, and you felt Jisoo starting to drift off against your shoulder. You waited for the house to clear out before moving, gently waking Jisoo and wiping the drool off of your shoulder. In her dazed state, she kept her eyes closed as she leaned into you as you walked back to your room. Hitting the stairs seemed to be a problem, as a result of both the alcohol and exhaustion.

“Jisoo, can you walk yourself up the stairs?”

“...Can’t. Too tired. Carry me.” and with that she threw her arms around you. After some maneuvering Jisoo was on your back as you grunted your way up the stairs. You gently placed her on her feet as you entered the room, turning to face her.

“Jisoo! What the hell?”

Jisoo seemed to have gained a second wind and had shed her sweater on the way up the stairs. Ignoring you, she tossed it to the side and noticed a silver case in the corner of your room, heading straight for it.

“Ooooh, what’s this?” She asked excitedly, looking up at you as she opened the case to reveal an old trumpet you used to play.

“Uh, I used to be in the band…”

She laughed obnoxiously loudly.

“Of course you were!”

She took it out and tried to blow some notes, failing miserably. You couldn’t help but laugh yourself as you took in Jisoo, shirtless, trying to play Christmas tunes on your old trumpet.

As she focused on that, you waved her off and headed back downstairs to get some water and ibuprofen for the headache you knew Jisoo would have in the morning. All of the lights were off in the house, everyone seemingly had retreated to their rooms for the night. You couldn’t help but take a moment and glance out the window, snow still falling steadily, silently against the glass. Even more snow sat on the ground now, and it shimmered a bit under the moonlight.

Thinking back on the night, you couldn’t think of any way it could have gone better. Although Jisoo was nervous, your family embraced her, and her them. You were brought out of your thoughts at the sound of a sharp note coming from your trumpet, opting to quickly gather what you came here for before heading back to your room, hoping no one was startled awake.

And you couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds since you heard the trumpet and Jisoo was already passed out on the bed, in nothing but her jeans and a bra. The trumpet in her hands. You placed the glass and the pills on the nightstand, and placed the trumpet back in its case before walking back to the bags and finding an oversized shirt to put Jisoo in, helping her out of her pants. Soon, you crawled into bed, making sure the covers covered both of you, bringing Jisoo closer to your chest. You touched your lips to her hair, murmuring an “I love you” you knew she wouldn’t remember in the morning. This chapter was off to a great start.

#gg scenarios #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarious #blackpink #kpop scenarious #blackpink jisoo #kim jisoo #jisoo #jisoo x female reader #kpop fanfic #blackpink fanfic #blackpink fluff #jisoo fluff #so much fluff #I don't know how I feel about this one it sat in my drafts for so long and it still feels half baked

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renaerys · 3 years

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PPG One-Shot: Mall Santa (Boomer/Mike and Brick/Blossom)

Summary: To earn a little extra cash over the holidays, Brick, Mike, and Boomer agree to help out their buddy Todd at a Mall Santa gig. Shenanigans ensue.

This one is for @snailbutters, @genovah, and @hanaokm. Merry Christmas and happy holidays! Enjoy some Boomike, Blossick, and Capri Sus on me.

[Cross-posted to AO3]

xxx

There were a lot of things Todd needed: a haircut, for one. His black hair was getting too long for gel and it was really pushing the boundary between greaser sexy and sad trash hobo. Money, for another. But like any other 21-year-old townie with a high school education and two restaurant jobs, he always needed money.

A new best friend, for yet another.

“I’m not your best friend,” Brick snapped as he tied a black tie around his neck. He needed to leave in ten minutes if he was going to be early for his dinner meeting with Oliver Morbucks.

Todd put a hand over his heart like it might fall out of the wound Brick’s words had stabbed there. “Dude, of course you are. I’m totally sorry if I ever gave you the wrong idea.”

Brick grimaced so hard he was sure he’d end up constipated. “No, you idiot. I know you think I’m your best friend. You’ve never shut up about it, even after we graduated high school. I’m pretty sure the whole fucking Peninsula knows it the way you go around shouting it when you’re blasted.”

Todd looked like he’d just received news that his favorite nana wasn’t dying of cancer after all. “Oh, cool. For a second there I thought I really hurt your feelings. You know you’re kinda sensitive, right?”

Oh god.

“What do you want, Todd? I have a really important meeting and I’m not missing it for your bullshit.”

Brick checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror in his one-bedroom apartment in downtown Townsville. It was a shitty hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but Brick was used to squalor. His break was coming, he could feel it. If tonight’s meeting went over well, he’d have a more steady revenue stream and, more importantly, the connections and clout the Morbucks name brought to open doors. All the long days at Red’s Auto Shop saving and scraping by would finally pay off, and just in time for Blossom to graduate from college. It was perfectly planned, meticulously manipulated, all down to this last pivotal dinner.

“Cool, no big deal! I just need to know if you’re free this weekend.”

“Free to do what?” Brick indulged him, because Todd was one of the few people on this planet who wasn’t 100% intimidated by his very presence.

“To help me with this Mall Santa gig I got. Harry Pitt was supposed to be my number two elf, but he ate some bad prawns and they had to, like, airlift him to Citiesville General.”

Brick stopped everything he was doing and glared at his second-to-best friend, which was a key fact because second was not the same as first. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I know, right?” Todd knew his way around Brick’s embarrassingly small bathroom, opened up the hair wax, and fixed Brick’s styling job. “Dude always had a weak stomach, you remember. But you don’t fuck with bad prawns. I mean, obviously.”

Brick swatted Todd’s hands away and checked his reflection. It was definitely an improvement. “Not that; the Mall Santa thing, obviously!”

“Oh, yeah. So you’ll help me out?”

“Fuck no.”

“Aw, Briiiiiiick,” Todd whined.

Brick grabbed his dinner jacket from the closet barely big enough to fit a small, starving child. Todd, who had latched onto Brick in the seventh grade like a goddamned barnacle and never let go no matter how hard Brick tried to push him away, followed. “Not if you paid me.”

“You’ll get paid! It’s $20 an hour!”

Brick hesitated over the threshold. “That’s higher than minimum wage.” It was higher than his hourly rate at the garage too.

“Seasonal gigs, man. That’s how you win.”

“It’s seriously fucking not.”

Todd, one of three people in the universe who actually cared about Brick on a personal level even though he wasn’t obligated by blood, made his blue eyes big and wide in a way that reminded Brick of Puss-n-Boots from Shrek, Todd’s favorite movie. “C’mon, bruh. Do your bestie a solid? Just this once? I really need the money and they won’t let me keep the gig without two elves to fill in. So please? Pleeeeeeease?”

And Brick, former scourge of Townsville, a Super with the power to literally raze the planet if it so much as tickled his fancy, and the dictionary definition of the boy every father dreads his perfect, pretty little girl falling for against her better judgment, cracked like an egg.

“For fuck’s sake,” he groused. “Just text me the time and place and get out of my face already.”

Todd punched the air with both fists. “Yes!! Oh, hell yes! I love you so much, dude.”

“Blow me.” Brick checked his watch. Shit, now he was merely on time.

“I’d consider it an honor,” Todd said, probably literally serious.

xxx

Boomer rolled glitter on his cheeks and around the edges of his dark blue eyes with the help of a compact as he huddled behind the North Pole set on the first floor of the Townsville Mall. When he was satisfied that he sparkled like the tinsel-festooned Christmas trees in Santa’s twelve-by-fifteen-foot “forest” themselves, he discreetly re-emerged just as the latest child slid off Santa’s lap.

“Merry Christmas, Dan!” bellowed a red and white-clad Todd behind an enormous, curly beard. “Remember to brush your teeth!”

The little boy ran back to his parents, who were having a word with the photographer about purchasing a picture of their son on Santa’s lap. Before Boomer could follow them, Brick was quick to cut him off.

“Where the hell were you?” he demanded. Sour as an un-sugared plum in his festive, candy-striped elf costume, Brick may have absolutely intimidated the seven-year-olds waiting in line with their parents for a turn on Santa’s lap, but Boomer only allowed him a bemused smile.

“Why, I was making toys for the good little boys and girls who came to visit us here at the North Pole,” Boomer said in a raised voice. He looped his arm through his brother’s and let his power surge with enough force to turn Brick around and face the crowd that was definitely within hearing range. “Isn’t that right, Elf Mursten?”

Brick pushed back with inhuman force, but Boomer held his ground with a smile as bright as the glitter on his cheeks as a little girl in overalls trotted forward.

She giggled. “I like your hat.”

“Thank you!” Boomer gushed, and he tipped his pom-pom-topped cap. “And what’s your name?”

The little girl giggled again. “My name’s Alynn.”

“Well, Alynn, why don’t you step right up and take a seat on Santa’s lap? I’m sure he has a great present for a cool girl like you. Right, Elf Mursten?”

Brick glared medieval torture at him, and he managed a smile that showed too many teeth to be anything other than life-threatening. “Of course, Elf Buller.”

Boomer’s smile tightened.

“Ho ho ho! Come on over, Santa doesn’t bite,” Todd said.

“What a psychotic reassurance,” Brick said soft enough for only the Super brothers to hear.

“Hey, Brick?” Boomer said, just as softly. “Cheer the fuck up.” He gave his brother a bone-crushing squeeze around the arm and broke from him. Brick could be a sourpuss when he wanted to be (all the time), but he wouldn’t mess up Todd’s Mall Santa gig when he’d bothered to show up and actually put in the effort at all. Complain as he might about Todd’s exuberance, Brick had always come through for his best friend since the seventh grade.

Boomer, on the other hand, had been very happy to accept Todd’s offer to work the two weeks leading up to Christmas. The hours were reasonable, the pay was good, and Boomer loved children. It was easy money in between local shows he and his garage band had booked over the holidays.

Plus, the photographer had a nice rack.

“Okay, Santa, Alynn. Look over here and say ‘jingle bells’!” A flash went off, and Mike Believe stood to his full height behind the tripod he’d set up for the day’s pictures. Even in reindeer antlers and a bright, red-painted nose, Mike filled out every fold of his brown Rudolph outfit almost to the point of popping a button. His broad chest puffed out when he put his strong hands on his hips and grinned brightly like he wouldn’t pick anywhere else to be right now.

Their eyes met, and Boomer flushed and smiled like a fool.

When Mike winked back at him coyly, his heart leaped into his throat. Mike had gotten home from college just two days ago, but the three weeks he had off for Winter Break would surely fly by like they did every year, and Boomer was determined to spend every moment together.

A tug on Boomer’s green tunic drew his attention. “Can I take a picture with you? Please?” the little girl asked.

Boomer beamed and scooped her up onto his hip. “Of course you can. Hey, Mike? Can you take one of us, please?”

“You bet! Get in close, now.” Mike readied his camera.

“Oh, wait a sec. Why don’t you take this too?” Boomer removed his festive hat and put it on Alynn’s head. It was big on her, but she laughed happily.

They posed for the picture, and Boomer hugged her cheek to cheek.

“Thanks!” The little girl tried to give him his hat back, but he pressed it to her chest.

“You keep it. Merry Christmas. Remember to be good, okay?”

Alynn’s father was waiting with a hand for her to take when she ran back to him, yammering about how she’d met Santa and his super cool elf friend, and Boomer watched them go.

“You know you’ll have to pay for that hat,” Brick said.

Boomer sighed and ran a hand through his cornflower hair. “You know I look better without it.”

Brick frowned deeply. “Uh-huh.”

“If you keep frowning, your face will stick like that.”

“Moron.”

He always had to have the last word. Brick went to stack the empty boxes wrapped in bright, shiny paper, which was probably more productive than blowing up the entire display. Boomer left him to it. It was time for their mid-morning break, anyway.

Todd got up to stretch. “Man, who knew sitting could be so tiring, huh? Whack.” His phone buzzed, and he grinned when he saw the caller ID.

Boomer, however, had eyes only for Mike as the latter turned off his camera and put a sheet over the tripod to protect it. “Working hard, I see.”

When Mike smiled, his dark eyes crinkled in the corners. He had a face made for smiling. “Oh, you know. Just helping out some friends.”

Like Brick, Todd had asked Mike to help out behind the camera for this gig. Mike didn’t exactly need the extra cash given his lacrosse scholarship that covered his college expenses, but the three of them had been as thick as thieves all through high school no matter what Brick said when he was annoyed. No way was Mike going to bail on the chance to help out a bro.

“This is cute,” Mike said, running a thumb over Boomer’s sparkly cheek.

“If only I could convince Brick to wear some,” Boomer said, lacing his fingers in Mike’s as they shuffled to the side of the exhibit behind a blinking Christmas tree for a bit of privacy.

Mike chuckled. “That’ll take a Christmas miracle. But anyway, I don’t want to talk about Brick right now.”

Their kiss was soft and mostly chaste, considering the venue, but Boomer didn’t mind at all. He rose up on his toes to lean into his boyfriend’s superior height and smiled into their kiss. Even in the middle of the Townsville Mall with shoppers mere yards away, for a few seconds Boomer got lost in the fantasy of the forest and the snow drifts, bright lights and magic that came around only once a year and had always touched his heart in a way nothing else quite could.

“Babe! You got here quick!” Todd’s excitement and a small commotion around Santa’s throne drew the lovers’ attention, and Boomer reluctantly broke the kiss. His Super hearing quickly picked up on what was going on.

“What is it?” Mike asked.

Boomer smiled wryly. “That Christmas miracle you wished for. Come on.” He took Mike’s larger hand in his and pulled him back toward the front of the display, where Todd had scooped up a very small, very fashionable Asian woman in his arms.

“Oh my god, don’t do shits in front of the innocent children, Toddy.” Hana patted her high bun and smoothed out her oversized black jacket once Todd released her.

“Hey, I just missed you is all,” Todd said with a genuine smile like he had really, truly missed his girlfriend since this morning when they had last seen each other.

“You guys are too cute,” said Bubbles with a giggle. As usual, she was adorable in blonde twin tails and a holiday-appropriate sweater dress. Shopping bags hung from both her arms, also as usual.

“Right?” Hana said, her deadpan façade melting completely as she beamed at her closest friend.

“No contest.” Bubbles set down her small nation of shopping bags. “Oh! Hi, Boomer!” She dashed to hug him in a flash of blue, and he caught her easily. “Oh my gosh, I love your glitter. You look like a supermodel!”

Boomer laughed and hugged her back. “Thanks for letting me borrow it. I really owe you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Oh, but you definitely need some touching up. Here, let me just…”

Mike had wandered over to Todd and Hana. “Hey, Hana. Are you staying for the holiday?”

Hana shrugged. “Yeah, my art show isn’t until after New Year’s. You know, I’m always looking for more models.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Mike laughed. “I’m honored, but I’m really nothing special, honestly. You might try Butch.”

Todd guffawed. “Oh man, Butch is, like, one of her top models! She painted him for what, six weeks last summer, babe?”

“Seven,” Hana said, dead serious.

Mike smiled nervously. “That’s a lot of inspiration.”

“He is very inspiring,” Hana said, deader and more serious.

“That dude is goals,” Todd said, totally unironically.

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Mike said.

“Aaaaand done.” Bubbles stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Honestly? You’re the most beautiful elf the North Pole ever employed.”

Boomer snickered. “Don’t tell Brick that.”

“Don’t tell me what, now?” Brick emerged from his useless empty box stacking task, glitter-less and severely lacking in Christmas cheer.

Bubbles gasped, right on cue. “Brick! Where is your glitter? Get over here.”

Brick made a weird face. “What are you talk—hey!”

Bubbles all but accosted him with the glitter pen. Hana cheered and applauded, and Todd joined in because he liked to cheer and applaud in general.

“What are you—get off!” Brick shoved Bubbles hard, but a flash of pink caught her before she could crash into anything.

Blossom peered around her totally unfazed sister, a tray of lattes in one hand and her perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised. “Brick,” she said.

Brick swallowed. “Blossom.”

She looked nice in leggings and a sweater dress that matched Bubbles’ style, except where Bubbles’ was white, Blossom’s was a scarlet that rivaled the shade of Brick’s eyes.

“I brought you guys coffee,” Blossom said, her eyes trained on Brick even as she held out the tray.

Mike took the tray before it could become collateral damage in whatever was going on between the two of them.

“Here you go.” Mike offered one to Boomer, who gratefully accepted it.

“Thanks!”

“I thought you weren’t getting home until tomorrow,” Brick said, as if he and Blossom were the only two people there.

“Change of plans,” Blossom said. “Problem?”

Brick seemed to remember what he was wearing and snatched his elf hat from his head. He bunched it up between his hands like that would hide his imagined shame. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine, clearly. But it wasn’t Boomer’s place to intrude. He would have been extremely happy for it to end there, but sadly Blossom, like his brother, had a flair for the dramatic and an affinity for the center of attention.

She sauntered up to him and smeared the bit of glitter Bubbles had managed to draw on his cheek before he’d shoved her off. “Good,” she said, half an invitation and half a challenge.

Brick didn’t bend easily. Boomer knew his brother as well as he knew himself, and he knew Brick didn’t relent, never gave in unless he was well and truly beaten, which was rare. But he slackened now, lips parting and eyes falling. Even though his arms stayed stubbornly at his sides and he didn’t do something as scandalous as hold his girlfriend’s hand in public, he melted under her touch and attention.

“All right! Bloss, you’re back early! This is massive, like, supernova massive,” Todd said. “Hey, I know! Let’s throw a party at mine tonight! Brick said you weren’t coming back for another couple of days, so this is like a cool early Christmas present to all of us.”

Bubbles gasped. “Oh my gosh, yes! Let’s all go to Todd’s tonight, just like we used to. I’m calling Robin right now.”

“We can make it a real Christmas party,” Blossom said. Somehow, she’d gotten ahold of Bubbles’ glitter pen and now smeared a generous amount on Brick’s cheeks until he gleamed without suffering a nuclear meltdown. A Christmas miracle, indeed.

“You’ll wear the Santa suit,” Hana said. Demanded.

“Ho ho ho! You got it, babe.”

“That thing’s a rental,” Brick said. “And it’s, like, 75 degrees outside.”

“If he gets too hot, I’ll hose him down,” Hana said.

Brick smartly decided not to press her on that one.

“I like your elf costume, Brick,” Blossom teased. Maybe.

“I’m burning it as soon as I get paid,” Brick said.

“I thought it was a rental like Todd’s?”

He hesitated, trapped by his own logic, and she laughed softly and kissed the side of his mouth. Brick froze and played it off like it didn’t affect him, but his eyes were drawn to Blossom’s lips for the next six whole minutes. Boomer really didn’t get why he had to make everything so damn complicated.

“Hey, hombres, our break is up and I see a super cute kid waiting to sit on the softest lap in Townsville,” Todd said, sinking back onto his candy cane throne and patting his lap.

Brick visibly cringed.

“It could be worse,” Mike whispered to Brick. “At least this time we get to keep our shirts on.”

Boomer smiled at the memory of Todd’s last seasonal gig he’d roped Brick and Mike into over the summer. The shirtless carwash had admittedly been one of his more rewarding part-time jobs, and Boomer had the photo evidence to cherish the memory extremely fondly.

Blossom and Hana retreated behind Mike while Bubbles finished up her phone call with Robin and Brick admitted the next child on set.

“Welcome to the North Pole,” he said with all the cheer of an old tire. Nonetheless, his cheeks dazzled. “What’s your name, kid?”

She looked up at him but didn’t say anything. Boomer noticed her shyness and decided he better intervene.

“Hey there,” he said, taking a knee so he could be on her eye-level. “Merry Christmas.”

That alarmed her even more, and she hugged Brick’s leg.

“What the—” Brick put his hands up like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Great.”

The girl’s parents were busy talking to Mike about the picture packages and didn’t seem to notice what was going on.

“Uh,” Boomer said, ready to flag them down before the little girl got scared or started to cry. They’d been lucky this morning with only one child throwing a temper tantrum out of the tens they’d seen.

“All right, kid. I hope you have a good grip.” Brick floated off the ground with the little girl clinging to his leg and flew over to Todd’s throne.

Boomer was so flabbergasted by his brother’s gross disregard for this child’s safety in front of her parents that he was momentarily stunned where he kneeled. It was over in about two and a half seconds, with her parents none the wiser and the little girl still in one piece, miraculously. Brick peeled her off him and dropped her on Todd’s lap.

“Name,” Brick demanded. And then, reluctantly: “…To check you off the Nice List.”

The little girl looked up at him with wide-eyed wonderment, or maybe fear. “Morana.”

��Morana. Super. Tell Todd—I mean, Santa—what you want. And smile for the camera.”

Todd didn’t miss a beat and wrapped his arms loosely around her to hold her safely in place. “Morana, that’s a pretty name. Wanna tell me what you want for Christmas?”

Morana pointed at Brick. “That one.”

Brick turned as red as his messy man bun. Todd wheezed.

“Oh, yeah? Well, that one’s taken, but I bet I can get you a picture together. How ‘bout it?” Todd asked.

Boomer was up and moving in a blue flash. “That can be arranged.” He shoved his brother with a healthy burst of Super strength, and Brick all but fell on his knee next to Todd’s throne. Boomer waved back at Mike for the picture.

“Big smile now!” Mike said cheerfully, and snapped the picture.

“What the hell is up with these kids?” Brick asked when Morana skipped back to her parents and started chattering at them in a language Boomer didn’t recognize but assumed must be all good things from the way she grinned from ear to ear. “They get bolder every year.”

“Or you’re just getting softer,” Boomer teased.

“Yeah, right.”

Blossom laughed at something Hana said on a nearby bench, drawing both their eyes.

“Whatever you say, man,” Boomer said.

xxx

Todd’s party was a nostalgic and long-overdue affair later that evening. Unlike Boomer, who had to make do in a small studio apartment on the outskirts of Citiesville where the rent was more manageable and his commute didn’t matter when flying anywhere took only minutes, Todd lived in a big house he took care of for his often absent, globe-trotting parents. Blossom, Bubbles, and Robin had taken the initiative and strung up Christmas lights, while Boomer created and managed the playlist for the night. They had a good crowd with old friends from high school and new ones from work and college gathered for no excuse other than to have a good time.

Butch, Buttercup, Mike, and Todd had set up beer pong in the basement, where most of the festivities were taking place. As usual, the shit talking and macho bravado had soared to ludicrous heights.

“Come on, BC,” Todd goaded. “Money shot, right here.” He fluffed his Santa beard, the ends of which were damp with beer. Buttercup had one cup left to hit.

“I’m about to straight-up tea bag you with this ping pong ball, Todd, I swear to god.” Buttercup tried to focus on her aim after too many beers and the distraction of Todd’s stupid Santa beard.

“Do it, fucking do it,” Butch said, bobbing on the balls of his feet and slightly manic with the competition and holiday cheer, probably.

“I’m gonna fucking do it!”

“I don’t think you can fucking do it,” Mike said.

“Ohhhhh!” Butch hollered when Buttercup lost her temper and threw the ball too hard. It bounced off Todd’s beard and fell on the floor, leaving the last cup untouched.

“Mike, you cheater!” Buttercup shouted.

Mike burst out laughing.

“All riiiiight, the Toddster’s final shot. You filming, babe?” Todd asked.

Hana, across the table from Boomer, had her phone out and poised. “Kick their asses, Toddy.”

“Yeah, bring it on, Toddy,” Butch jeered.

“Oh, it’s about to be brought.”

“Oh god, please, you peaked in high school,” Buttercup said.

“Hey, he plateaued,” Mike said. “There’s a difference.”

“Just take the damn shot!”

Todd shot, hit the rim of the solo cup, and missed. Buttercup and Butch threw up their hands and whooped. They were still in the game, and the stakes were even higher now.

Boomer squeezed Mike’s arm in a silent excuse and went to change the music…only to find Brick and Blossom making out in the hallway like it was their last night on Earth.

The music was fine, he decided. No need to interrupt Brick and Blossom trying to fuse with the wall and face his brother’s cock blocked wrath. Discreetly, Boomer snapped a picture on his phone and texted it to Bubbles.

[Boomer: Shooketh]

Bubbles’ reply was lightning fast.

[Bubbles: More like shattered!!]

[Bubbles: Better get out of there before they catch you lol 💀]

After another hour (and Brick and Blossom’s reemergence from the wall in one piece with not a hair out of place because god forbid), Boomer and Mike decided to head out early. They went back to Boomer’s apartment, where a very excited Pomeranian welcomed them home.

“Hi, Pumpkin!” Mike brightened like the sun and scooped up his favorite girl, left in Boomer’s care while he was away at college. “Who’s ready for a walk?”

They walked Pumpkin and let her tire herself out running around the suburban neighborhood where it was too late at night for any cars to be out. A half hour later, they were curled up on the loveseat with Pumpkin snoozing in her fuzzy bed at their feet and an old black-and-white Christmas movie playing on low volume on the television.

“Hey,” Boomer said, lifting his head from Mike’s chest to look at him properly.

Mike set aside the hot chocolate he’d been drinking and pulled Boomer up by his waist. “Hey, you. What is it?”

Boomer smiled. It was silly, really. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh?” Mike returned his smile and leaned closer. He smelled like soap, a hint of chocolate, and something else that made Boomer want to bury his face in his neck.

“Just happy,” Boomer said.

“Really? I can’t tell.”

Boomer sat up a little higher. The neck of Mike’s old lacrosse jersey he wore dipped down his shoulder, too big on him and softer than a cloud. He pressed a chaste kiss to the underside of Mike’s jaw. “How about now?”

“Hm, nope, I don’t think I quite got that.”

Boomer threaded his fingers though Mike’s short, dark hair at the nape of his neck. Feeling coquettish, he gave his ear a nip. “How about now?”

Mike shifted on the couch and pulled Boomer’s bent legs onto his lap. His voice was as warm as the hot chocolate he’d been drinking. “I think I’m starting to get a vague understanding.”

Boomer laughed and painted a trail of kisses along Mike’s jaw, up his chin. He pressed a strong hand to his chest and put a little power behind it. Centimeters apart, he could taste the lingering heat of the hot chocolate on Mike’s breath. “And now?”

Mike’s eyes drooped and darkened. His hands slipped around Boomer’s waist, under the jersey, a silent entreaty. “I think you can do a little better than that, Angel.”

The secret nickname broke Boomer’s resolve, and he kissed his boyfriend full on the mouth with all the confidence and shamelessness he couldn’t give him that morning at the mall surrounded by children and their parents. Mike’s shirt soon found its way to the floor along with Boomer’s borrowed jersey. The loveseat was too short to accommodate Mike’s height comfortably, and after a few moments Boomer held him close and flew them to the bed in a flash.

“I’ll never get over how hot that is,” Mike said, breathless.

Boomer blushed, unable to help it. He was careful with his strength around Mike, but sometimes the X bonded to his bones pushed him to the raw, carnal boundaries of humanity. Mike’s hand on his cheek drew him out of those spiraling thoughts.

“I mean it,” Mike said. “I love that part of you. And I trust you completely.”

Words did not come easily, nor did they seem appropriate in that moment. Boomer bent to kiss Mike again and pull him as close as he could get. Wrapped up in the warm sheets and each other, Boomer’s silly little thought that he had never been happier grew and swelled to heights he never could have imagined before Mike. They lay there together, lazy and sleepy, as the credits of their forgotten holiday movie played on the television.

“One more semester,” Mike said, “and then I graduate.”

“I can’t believe you’re almost a college graduate,” Boomer said. “It feels like you left ages ago.”

“Four years is a long time, but it’s not forever. And you should get ready.”

Boomer looked up at him. “Ready for what?”

“To move, of course.”

“Move?”

“Hey, I love how cozy your apartment is, but I’m pretty sure Pumpkin would appreciate her own room once we’re living together full time.”

Boomer sat up properly. “You… You want to move in together? With me?”

“Of course! The only question is, where do you want to go?”

Boomer covered his mouth. Of course he had thought about getting a place with Mike, but that always seemed like the distant future. What if they didn’t stay together? What if the long distance was too hard? What if Mike met someone else at college? Brick didn’t talk about it much, but after a few too many drinks one night the year Blossom and Mike both left for college, he’d confessed how afraid he was that he would lose her forever. How can the old be exciting and fun compared to the amazing, new adventures she would be having?

But from the way Boomer had caught them all but absorbing each other at Todd’s tonight, Blossom seemed perfectly happy to keep him. And Mike…

“You’re serious,” Boomer said.

“I’ve never been more serious.” Mike took his hand and kissed his knuckles carefully. “I can’t wait to start our lives together.”

Boomer could have cried. He almost did. Life was hard, even for a Super like him. With endless bills to pay and the occasional monster to dispose of, sometimes he felt like he was being pulled in too many directions without anyone there to help pick up the slack. But this… This was his.

“Me too,” Boomer said. “And I don’t care where we go, as long as it’s together.”

“Well, cool. In that case, if you’re not opposed to it, was thinking farther north, like Metroville. There are some great photography jobs there that I want to apply for, and the music scene is bigger than it is here—”

“Yes! A hundred percent yes, let’s do it. When do we leave?”

Mike laughed. “June 1st, as soon as they hand me my diploma.”

Six months. It had a date now. Unthinking, Boomer threw his arms around Mike’s broad shoulders and hugged him tight. “I’ll mark my calendar.”

“It’s a date.”

Incidentally, they did not get much sleep the rest of that night.

xxx

I told myself I wasn’t going to do a ton of fluff, but damnit all, Boomike is SUPER CUTE and I couldn’t help myself. Let them have the happy ending they deserve. Thanks for reading!

#PowerPuff Girls #powerpuff girls fanfiction #powerpuff girls fanfic #Blossick #PPG Reds #Boomike #Capri Sus #Todd x Hana #Brick #Boomer #Blossom #Todd #Mike Believe #february fic prompts

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