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titan-fodder · 2 years

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Deflowered Part Five

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Rating: E (explicit; mdni)

Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Reader

Count: 9.3k

Warnings: baseball stuff, Zeke being mildly condescending, smut, filming (dubious consent), Zeke’s ego, cumshots, cum eating (barely), jealousy, Christmas festivities, mentions of alcohol, goofy white elephant gifts, mentions of angst, new cover stories, brief dacryphilia, desperate fucking

A/N: this is my first piece of the new year, and i don’t know how to feel about it. anyway, hope it holds up and that y’all are still enjoying. i introduce hitch in this chapter and mention her relationship with one Nile Dok. if you aren’t comfortable with that, you should turn around because they will become a larger part of this fic. other than that, thanks for all the support on this fic and enjoy~

The pitching machine makes you flinch with every ball it launches into the cage, your shoulders jumping slightly, eyes widening then growing even more when the sound of ringing aluminum echoes into the evening sky.

Zeke nods to himself as the ball slams into the fence then wipes his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt and drops back into his batting stance. And, you just watch him, the way his spine curves, the way his biceps press against the material of his sweatshirt, the way one hand lets go of the bat after every hit so that the metal swings back and forth just slightly–and it’s such an odd little detail to fixate on, but fuck, it’s hot for some reason.

Once the last ball has fallen to the ground, Zeke turns to look at you, mouth pulling up on one side as he walks over to where you’re shivering in his jacket. Shivering yet hot all over. Just like you always are when you’re with him.

“Thought you were a pitcher,” you tell him when he closes in enough for you to blink up at him. “Why’re you so good at batting?”

He chuckles as he leans the bat up against the fence next to you. “Those hits might look good to the untrained eye,” he starts, tapping your cold nose with the tip of his finger, “But I assure you not a single one would’ve been a homerun. Few fouls in there too, I bet.”

“To the untrained eye,” you mimic with a roll of said eyes, but you’re still fighting a smile.

Zeke stoops, his hand warm from his previous grip on the bat as it slides to the back of your neck, and then he’s kissing you, heated body pressing you into the chain link for just a moment before he’s gone, and you are even colder than before.

“Alright, you’re up,” he says as he steps back, picking up the bat he’d only just set down and holding it out to you. “Let’s see whatcha got.”

You make a face, shake your head because even though you are more than happy to watch Zeke practice, you have no desire to face sixty-mile-per-hour baseballs head on.

“Come on,” he tries. “It’s not like I’m gonna make fun of you. Plus, it’ll probably warm you up.”

“You know what else will warm me up?” His eyes flash, and you snicker because, for once, that is not where your brain is. “Okay, I was thinking of the heater in the Bronco, but that would work too.”

He hums as if contemplating–what, you do not know–then shoves the bat into your hands and pulls you away from the fence to steer you toward the little square that’s supposed to be home plate.

“Alright, before I load the balls, show me your stance.”

Frowning, you try to imitate the position he had been in just moments ago, knees bent, shoulders back, lean forward a little. Zeke pushes his lips out in consideration as he glances over you, mutters a short, “Not terrible,” then moves to correct everything that’s wrong. Squatting, he pats your right leg and tells you to scoot it back a few more inches, then he takes hold of your hips to center them, straightens up and presses against your sternum so that you straighten a little more, until your body feels to be in an even less natural stance than before.

“Is the point to be as uncomfortable as possible?” you ask as Zeke slides behind you, arms curling around yours so that he can modify your hold on the bat.

He snorts. “No, smartass. A strong stance increases the likelihood of a strong hit while also lessening the chances of injury.”

“Says the guy who fucked up his elbow playing.”

“Okay firstly,” he speaks into your ear, making goosebumps spring up all over your body, “I hurt myself pitching, thank you, and secondly, you are sassy tonight.”

“‘m just cold,” you pout. He’s lucky you’re just in the mood to tease and not in the mood to whine because that has been known to happen. That said, you can’t imagine letting yourself act like a baby or a bitch with Zeke, still so concerned with what he thinks of you.

“Just hit a few, and then we can go warm up at the house,” he promises before leading you in a gentle swing, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel good to have him so close, chest against your back, his frame moving with yours as he gets you used to the angle. A few hits will definitely be worth going back to his place and getting even closer.

A heavy helmet is placed on your head, the foam on the inside crushing your ears against your head and muffling Zeke’s voice when he smirks, “You’re cute,” but you can still read his lips and therefore still blush.

The first pitch makes you shriek which isn’t surprising to either of you. It just flies at you so fast. Zeke laughs, tossing the next ball back and forth as he waits for you to shake it off, and once you pace for a second and calm down, you return to the painted square and nod at him.

This time you don’t scream, but you do still step out of the way and laugh a little hysterically.

“Baby, just swing,” Zeke calls out, clearly amused as he grins and pushes hair from his face.

“I’m trying!”

About to drop the third ball into the machine, he reminds you, “Just keep your eye on it, then swing once it’s in range.”

He’s definitely oversimplifying it, and it makes you squint at him, but… you really want to get back to the house.

“Okay, fine, fine, load the next one.”

You’re able to make contact with the ball, but only barely as it pops up above your head in what you know would be a foul or a ball or something else not at all impressive.

“Hey, that’s progress,” Zeke comments. “Steady improvement.”

“Thanks, coach,” you can’t help but reply sarcastically, and it makes him raise an eyebrow, mouth twisting to possibly fight a smile. “Next, please.”

Two pitches later, you finally manage to really slam into one. The bat vibrates and sings in your palms, and the fence rattles where it’s hit, and Zeke lets out an enthusiastic, “That’s my girl!” that makes pleasure run down your spine, toes curling in your sneakers.

He has no idea the effect he has on you. No idea.

“One more?”

You nod, trying not to stare too hard at his bright, handsome face as he readies another pitch, and when you hit it this time, his excited, “Fuck yes,” makes you giggle.

Anxiety mostly drained and with a better grasp of the rhythm, you let Zeke load up three more, trying not to look too smug when you hit all of them.

“Little pro over here,” he plays when you both start to clean up, filling the cart with all the stray baseballs. “Gonna have to get you your own jersey.”

“Or, I could just wear yours,” you murmur, bent over as you grab the last bit of equipment.

When you straighten back up, it’s to find Zeke a few feet away, his light eyes trained on you, lips parted until he speaks again, “You’d wear it better than I ever did. That’s for fucking sure.”

You laugh in your throat, heat rising to your face. “Doubtful.”

You’ve seen a few photos from his pro days on his instagram, and you will not soon be forgetting the way your mouth had literally watered at each one–that dark red jersey, white pants gathered up at the knees to show black socks and messy cleats. Even his silly little sports glasses were attractive to you. It’s ridiculous.

The ball cart and bat are pushed back into the corner of the cage, then you make your way back to Zeke’s car, the only one in the parking lot of the high school. The batting cages, tennis courts, and soccer field are all open to the public on weekends–not exactly your idea of a perfect date, but you’ll do pretty much anything Zeke asks you to at this point just as long as it means hanging out with him. Besides, you didn’t have a bad time. It was actually pretty fun once you stopped sucking.

“Oh hey, did Eren ever let you know if they made it in okay?” you ask, getting situated in the passenger seat, Zeke holding the door open as he watches you.

“Yeah,” he nods. “He texted me a couple hours ago. They all made it just fine.”

“Good.”

The younger Jaeger as well as a few of your friends are spending the better part of the holiday break at his parents’ in Cape Cod. You and Marco were also invited, but you both had to turn down the offer due to work. Your brother is more than a little disappointed considering Jean is one of the people tagging along, but you can’t say you’re all that upset considering it means Zeke has the house to himself for the next two weeks. The crew had left this afternoon, and not an hour later, you’d gotten a text from him.

It’s exciting. The idea of being able to spend more time with him has you tingling in more ways than one. You’ll have to think of a few different cover stories to make sure you don’t get caught, but, well, you’ve always been creative.

It’s completely dark outside by the time you get to the house, and the lack of lighting inside makes the two of you fumble for a moment until Zeke finds the switch with one hand while the other closes around your hip. Your packed bag is still sitting on the couch where you left it before heading to the cages–clothes, shampoo, everything you need to feel at least somewhat comfortable for a night or two.

You ate a couple hours ago, food nice and settled at this point which means…

“I’m gonna run and shower since I got a little sweaty back there,” Zeke says, pulling you close when he asks, “Wanna hop in with me?”

“You really have to ask?”

That smirk is back, the one that makes your stomach flip.

“Don’t wanna be too pushy with you.”

You can be as pushy as you want, you think. Tell me whatever you want me to do.

Shoes are kicked off, sweatshirts and jackets tossed over the couch as the two of you make your way upstairs to Zeke’s bathroom. He strips his shirt off then bends to turn the water on, and as his eyes are averted you take off your own top and bra, still self-conscious when he turns back to you and stares for a solid five seconds. Just to avoid his gaze, you shimmy out of your jeans and panties, but as soon as you’re no longer at risk of tripping, your attention is forced back to Zeke when he lifts your chin.

“You don’t have a single clue how sexy you are, do you?” His voice is soft, thoughtful, and it makes your throat a little tight.

“I–”

You know you aren’t painful to look at, but… sexy? To Zeke Jaeger?

“That’s what I thought,” he grumbles just before shoving his own pants down. When he straightens again, he huffs out a delighted, “Lucky for you, I have no issue in showing you.”

He motions to the shower, stepping in after you and crowding you against the wall. The tile is chilled enough to make you gasp, but the spray of the water is nearly scalding, and the almost painful dichotomy is not lost on you, reminds you so much of what is happening between you and the man whose hands are roaming your body–that cold feeling in the pit of your stomach versus sweltering desire.

Lips trail over your temple and down your cheek until they find yours, soft from being chewed on in the cold. You hum into him, a content sound that never fails to make Zeke smile, and then his tongue is in your mouth, and his fingers are gently toying with one of your nipples, and you’re lost in him all over again–a storm you’re never entirely prepared for.

You run a hand down his chest, the ridges of his abs, until you grip his hardening cock in a loose fist and start to pump him in a leisurely way that makes him groan deep in his throat. Zeke rocks his hips forward softly, chasing friction as he strokes over your tongue. His fingers thread through your damp hair and slowly tighten as he breaks away, pulling your head to the side so that he can attach himself to your neck.

The way your body undulates between him and the wall is completely involuntary, and you feel that ache settle deep inside of you, that familiar throb.

“Want you,” you hear him grunt into your skin, and those words paired with the desperate way he’s rutting into your hand leaves you breathless. “Wanna be so deep in this sweet pussy, wanna watch my cock stretch you out…”

Your pathetic whine sounds too loud when the fingers playing with your nipples drop to the place between your legs, Zeke petting your folds for a moment before moving to your clit and giving it a gentle flick.

“You can–you ca–fuck, Zeke…”

It’s incredible, how fast he can make you unravel, nothing but putty in his hands as he plays with you.

Caught in a hungry kiss, you moan into Zeke’s mouth as he traces around your entrance, but before either of you can get too invested, he pulls back and sighs, “Water makes the worst lube,” then shows a devious little smile and shuts the shower off. “We can rinse off again later–actually bathe once we have something to wash off.”

An image flashes through your mind, one of yourself, all messy hair and rolling eyes with your chest splattered with cum, and you want all of that and more right now.

You barely run a towel over yourselves before prancing into the bedroom, your back against the mattress in record time as Zeke delves between your thighs, his tongue like a dream as he laps at your pussy.

“Already wet for me, baby?” he teases, sliding a finger inside of you with ease and placing a kiss on your swelling clit when your back arches.

“Always,” you breathe, and the sensation of his beard rubbing against sensitive flesh makes you groan and leak.

A sharp sort of warmth spreads quickly between your hips as Zeke massages that spot inside of you, and you can feel his eyes on you as he tongues at your clit, only pausing to ask, “You’re always wet for me?”

You release a short, airy laugh, unable to focus when you answer, “I–oh–k-kinda–fuck, might as–might as well be.”

“You think of me that much?” he pries, and his voice is so low, a dangerous tone that makes you shudder.

“So much,” you whimper when he sucks on the bundle of nerves. “T-too much. All the time.”

Your euphoria is loosening your tongue, but you can’t help it. You’re drunk off of it, off of him, his tongue and his fingers and the way he growls in satisfaction.

He makes you come like that, hips twitching so that your dripping pussy glides over his lips and chin as you clench around his finger, Zeke muttering the whole time, “Come for me, come for me, there we go, just like that,” and immediately sucks your clit back into his mouth, flicking the tip of his tongue over it and watching as you tremble in his hold.

Once he’s had his fill, he sits up on his elbows, looking nothing but pleased as you stare at him and pant.

“Need a break?”

You shake your head and move to pull him back to your face, uncaring of the mess as you kiss him deeply, nails of one hand digging into his shoulder as you reach down with the other, wrapping around his cock and guiding him to your pussy.

“Want me that bad?” he chuckles, biting his lip when his tip slips inside of you, and his words are a little strained when he lightly mocks, “You my cock-hungry little girl now?”

Locking your ankles around his back, you force him to slide in the rest of the way. It’s too much, too fast, makes you cry out, but it’s so good. Always so fucking good.

“Fuck, baby,” he wears, sitting still for a few seconds. “Gonna make me come too fast if you keep doing shit like that.”

You offer him a blitzed smile, swallowing back the drool that’s pooled in your mouth because that stretch–that fucking stretch. It burns, and you’re so aware of how thin you’re spread around him, but you feel so full, so whole, all your empty spaces finally accounted for and stuffed to your liking.

Zeke’s rhythm starts off slow but quickly picks up. On his knees, he presses your thighs to your chest, opening you up for him and ogling your pussy, the way you, “... take me so well, fuck, you have no idea… you have a perfect cunt–Christ–”

His weight disappears as he pulls out and tugs your hips up higher, leaving you resting on the the top of your spine as he buries his tongue inside you again.

“Oh my god, Zeke–”

He’s messy, rabid as he eats you out. The wet sounds of his mouth on your sloppy pussy ring loudly in your ears, only serving to get you more worked up, make you tense and relax over and over until Zeke drops you on the blankets again.

Just as he’s lining himself up, a thought seems to strike him, and the grin that takes over his flushed face actually has you a little scared.

“One second.”

You watch as he rolls off the bed and walks to his closet then listen to the clack and slide of plastic hangers until Zeke finds what he’s looking for.

When he re-emerges with one of his old jerseys, you try to hide your giggle behind your hand, telling him, “I was mostly joking earlier, you know.”

“Mostly being the keyword,” he counters as he holds it out to you.

You eye it for a while, reach out to feel the material and muse, “You know this is probably worth, like, a considerable amount of money, right?”

“Yeah, I know. Put it on.”

Clicking your tongue, you shrug and do as you’re told, unbuttoning the jersey and swinging it around your shoulders so that you can slip your arms through the sleeves. It’s very large on you, hangs down to your thighs when you stand up. You don’t bother closing the top, letting the Warriors lettering and logo remain halved where they fall over your chest.

Zeke is staring at you like a predator, irises the color of ice now mostly black from blown pupils, and you can’t help but laugh, “Is this an ego thing?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he answers shamelessly before twirling a finger. “Spin.”

You do. Slowly. Make sure he gets a view of the curve of your ass just barely peeking out from under the top, and before you’re even facing him again, Zeke has you bent over the bed, cock cleaving you open, hand keeping your face pressed into the comforter.

His rhythm is ruthless, hitting just where you need him to and making fluid dribble from your abused hole—fuck, fuck, he’s so good, feels so good, it makes you scream.

“Knew you’d wear this better than I ever did,” he groans, speech slurred as he traces over the large numbers sewn into the back of the jersey. “So fucking cute, drives me insane. This pussy—” he delivers an especially deep thrust that makes your jaw drop and eyes roll, “—drives me insane.”

If you weren’t stoned off sex, you might be offended at being called cute while face down, ass up, but considering Zeke’s cock is currently giving you tunnel vision, you can’t exactly complain.

You stay in that position for a while longer, drooling into the sheets while he gives your bouncing ass a few spanks, not too rough as if he’s testing the waters. Then, he flips you, gazing down at your sopping cunt when he pushes in before his eyes travel up to your tits.

An animal-like sound leaves Zeke's chest, and he bends over, catching one of your nipples between his teeth and nibbling while pinching the other. The ridge of his cock keeps pressing into your g-spot, and the thatch of blond curls at his base keep rubbing over your sensitive clit, and soon you’re fisting both hands in his wavy hair and coming, body uncoiling all at once as your core muscles spasm around him.

You moan through every crest and trough, fucked through your orgasm until you’re nothing more than a rag doll taking everything Zeke still has to give you.

You open bleary eyes just in time for him to reach for his phone on the nightstand, the angle of his cock inside of you changing as it pushes into soft, gummy walls.

“Fuck—wha—”

“Smile for me,” Zeke coos, and you’re able to focus on the particular way he’s holding his phone, little camera lenses pointing directly at you. You feel your lips part in surprise, a protest on the tip of your tongue, but then he’s rocking his hips into yours again, and you’re helpless.

“Such a messy, creamy pussy,” he comments, fingers of his free hand dancing over your clit and around your hole. “Did I make you feel good, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you choke, mouth curving the way he wants it to, but the camera isn’t on your face for long as he plays with your overstimulated cunt, fucking into you slowly now and focusing his phone on the way his cock slides in and out of you. When Zeke pulls out entirely, you can feel the way your hole shrinks with its emptiness only to open back up when he presses in again.

He draws it out a little longer before ending the video and tossing his phone to the side, then starts fucking you with renewed vigor, muttering the whole time—how good you are, how soft you feel, how he could fuck you every day—until he tears himself away and begins stroking his cock, white shooting from his tip almost immediately, painting your stomach in warm lines.

He’s so sexy when he comes, it makes you dizzy—eyes screwed shut, jaw dropped and sliding forward. His upper lip curls ever so slightly, showing off incisors and making him look primal, and his hair is completely out of place, hanging over his eyes and sticking out in odd directions.

He’s stunning, and you are hopeless.

You’re not surprised when he reaches for his phone once he’s done, panting and shaky as he opens his camera app again, only this time he just takes a few pictures. You contemplate covering your face, aware that if these ever got out you would be in deep shit, but you don’t think Zeke is that type of guy—more of a private collector.

So, you just stare into the lense, eyes heavy as you bite your bottom lip, eventually growing bold enough to dip a finger in the puddle of cooling cum and bring it to your mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” Zeke croaks, and you grin around your fingertip.

He puts his phone down on his nightstand then grabs a few tissues to clean you off, tossing them in the trash can afterward. You let him pull you to your feet, let him hold your face and kiss you again and again as you melt in his grip.

“I’m so fucking obsessed with you, it’s stupid,” he mutters into your lips.

Coming from anyone else, you might be alarmed, put-off, but considering this is Zeke, you just giggle, brush it off as post-orgasm endorphins. He’s being dramatic and silly, but you’re happy to bask in it until he comes back to his senses.

It’s a Wednesday evening—Christmas Eve eve—and Zeke finds himself at a familiar restaurant bar surrounded by his usual band of merry idiots. Six PM and Reiner is already sloshed, too loud as he slings his arm around Bertholdt and flirts with the little bartender in a way that makes her give him a pitying look. Porco is off for the night, sitting on a stool next to his brother and pouting about not being able to drink at his place of employment.

The high table a little off to the side is where Zeke has posted up, Annie on one side of him and her new friend, Hitch, on the other. They’re talking about something—or Hitch is, anyway—and Zeke is trying to keep track, but it’s impossible when you keep walking past him with that little fucking smile of yours.

Given the holidays, company policy must allow for some leniency with the dress code because you’re walking around in tight jeans and a dark green sweatshirt designed to look like a Christmas sweater. An image of Michael Scott is plastered on the front as well as the quote Well, happy birthday, Jesus. Sorry your party’s so lame, which definitely got a chuckle out of Zeke when he first saw it (though, it’s nowhere near as funny as Bertl’s Shrek The Halls sweater).

You seem to be closing out your last table, another server having come in to relieve you about twenty minutes ago, and then you’ll be free to go to the back and drop whatever cash you owe then head to the apartment with everyone else.

The idea to pregame for the little Christmas party/gift exchange had been Reiner’s (of course), and when Ymir mentioned you were working today it only made sense to come to Garrison’s—

“That way I can just drive her back here when she’s off, and everything’ll be squared away—ready to party hardy!”

“Something tells me you won’t be driving anyone anywhere,” Zeke had grumbled after Reiner, and now, watching him scribble what must be sloppy digits on a coaster before sliding it to the bartender, Zeke knows he was correct in his earlier assumption.

Typical.

It’ll be a good time, though. Even if his friends are drunk and stupid, Zeke knows he’ll enjoy himself since you’ll be there. He may not be able to indulge as he’d like to, but he’ll make do. He can control himself if he must.

The next time you pass through the bar, you stop right in between the high table and Reiner’s stool, letting the whole group know, “I’m gonna do my drop, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

“Guess that means I gotta close my tab, huh…”

“Yeah,” you fake sympathy as you pat Reiner’s back. “Sorry, bud.”

He heaves a heavy sigh only to flash a huge smile at you and shrug, “It’s cool, I’ll just drink all your cousin’s liquor when we get back to your place.”

It makes you laugh, which makes Reiner laugh, which makes Zeke squint and run his tongue over his teeth as he watches.

The somewhat oafish blond has always had a knack for irritating him (they’d almost come to blows when they first met), but this, this giggling and playful shoving—oh, Zeke doesn’t like this at all. He doesn’t like seeing the way Reiner plucks the felt reindeer antlers from your head to put them on his own, doesn’t like seeing the way you smile and tell him, “They suit you very well,” and he definitely doesn’t like the way Reiner winks at you in return.

“Does he flirt with everyone when he’s drunk?” Hitch asks, forcing Zeke’s attention away from you.

Annie waves a hand and answers, “Mostly, yeah. It’s way better than the alternative. I promise you.”

“What’s the alternative?”

“If Reiner is drunk, he’s doing one of two things,” Annie explains casually, “He’s either trying to get into someone’s pants, or he’s crying in a corner somewhere. Like, literally. Weeping.”

Zeke snorts while Hitch takes on a sympathetic expression and lets out a little, “Aw. The hot ones are always weird and tortured.”

“Don’t know about tortured, but weird for sure,” Zeke drawls, tracking you as you move through the bar and disappear into the back.

Ten minutes pass before you re-emerge, purse over your shoulder and a renewed pep in your step at having finished your shift. Everyone else is paid out and ready to go, spreading out in the parking lot as you announce, “Mir and Marco should already be there. They both got off at five,” and then you’re all splitting up into different vehicles.

Porco drove to work, so Marcel joins him in his pickup truck. Annie, Bertl, and Reiner are basically a package deal, and since Hitch is more familiar with Annie than anyone else, she naturally clings to that group as well, though she does still look at you with a cocked head and offers, “We can make some room! It’s a small car, but you can sit on my lap if ya’ want!”

Zeke comes close to protesting, doesn’t exactly appreciate the assumption that you’re uncomfortable at having to be alone with him, but he can sort of understand the concern. Girls have to watch each other’s backs and all that.

“I’m fine,” you assure her, glancing up at Zeke and adding, “He taxis my friends and me around all the time, so I’m used to almost dying in his car.”

With a scoff, Zeke shoulders into you, but he has to admit, your air of casualness is to be admired. You look cool as a cucumber. For now.

Hitch hums a dismissive, “If you say so,” then follows the others to Reiner’s beat up four-door that Bertholdt ends up driving.

As always, Zeke helps you into the Bronco, glancing to make sure the others are a good distance away from the parking lot before pulling you in for a kiss. He squeezes the thigh closest to him, massaging through denim and wishing he could feel your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Hate when you come to the restaurant,” you tell him between nipping at his lip. For a split second, Zeke’s feelings are a little hurt, and then you elaborate, “Can’t hardly focus with you around,” and everything is okay again.

He just—fuck—he wants you all the time. Wants to pet your hair and trace your lips and gaze into your eyes so full of misplaced adoration. You look at Zeke like he’s some kind of hero, and it’s as disconcerting as it is intoxicating. He wants to destroy you and put you back together all at once, and god dammit, you’d fucking let him.

But, he doesn’t have time for that tonight, so he just stands in the open door of his car, holding your face in his hands while he gently sucks on the tip of your tongue, only vaguely aware of the time passing.

“Mm, did you—” you’re interrupted by your own little laugh when Zeke peppers a series of smaller kisses over your mouth and cheeks.

“Did I what?”

“Did you bring your white elephant gift?” you’re able to finish this time.

Zeke finally tears himself away from you, trying not to notice the way your eyes are a little too wide and your lips are a little too swollen because if he focuses on those things, he’ll be pulled right back in. He’ll feel the too-quick rise and fall of your chest, feel your hummingbird heart beating in anticipation as you wonder what he’ll do next.

What will Zeke do next? Honestly, most of the time he doesn’t even know the answer to that.

“In the back. Just a stupid little thing,” he tells you, nodding toward the seat behind you.

Reaching up to flatten some hair against his head, you remind him that, “Stupid is the point. It’s more fun that way.”

The rule is the gift either has to be something from home or under two dollars. It’s obvious no one will be walking away with anything of real value tonight, but Zeke is sure the evening will be full of laughs.

“Is that why Ymir told everyone to wear ugly sweaters too—go along with the theme of stupid?” Zeke pesters, picking at your thick top and dreading the moment he actually has to dawn his own.

You smile, “Probably,” then take on a thoughtful expression. “Honestly, I think Ymir is trying to get everyone in the festive mood for my and Marco’s sake. Haven’t really celebrated Christmas in a couple years, so the holidays have been super fucking depressing. I think she’s trying to change that for us.”

Groaning, Zeke rests his head against yours and sighs a dramatic, “Fine. I guess if it’s for the sake of the orphans—” He hears the click of your tongue and quickly chuckles, “Kidding, kidding, that was mean.”

You roll your eyes at him but are still clearly amused as you tell him, “You’re rude,” with no real bite.

“Only sometimes,” he concedes, deciding he’s had enough banter and that it’s time to head to the apartment. Zeke makes sure your legs are tucked in before closing the door then slides into the driver’s side.

He queues up the playlist he made just for you, always happy to see the way your mouth moves along with the words you apparently know by heart now. Zeke has to wonder how often you listen to it, if you put it on repeat when he first sent it to you, if you ever fell asleep or studied with it playing in the background. How many of these songs will you associate with him from now on, and how can he add more?

Once in the complex’s lot, Zeke spots Ymir’s little Corolla as well as Reiner’s car and Porco’s truck. Hopefully, they haven’t been waiting too long.

It’s only when you’re both standing outside of the Bronco that Zeke grabs the tacky sweater folded in his backseat, grumbling as he pulls it over his head then holding his arms out for you to get a good look at how fucking ridiculous it is.

“Wait, is that—”

“Yes, it is,” Zeke cuts you off, feigning annoyance because the thing really is atrocious. There are too many colors and too many designs, but the ones that stand out most are golden rings, the silhouettes of nine humanoid figures, and the large, orange eye that takes up most of his chest.

“I love it so much,” you beam at him before doing your best Elijah Wood impression and teasing, “I will do it. I will wear the sweater to Mordor.” Fuck, you’re adorable.

“Yeah, laugh it up.”

“Hey,” you pin him with a raised eyebrow and mischievous smirk, “If I can wear a jersey for you, you can wear this nerdy sweater for my cousin.”

“That—yeah, okay, that’s fair,” Zeke agrees, brain temporarily glitching as he recalls the way you looked wearing his number, painted with his cum, and fine, if this stupid sweater makes you happy, he can weather a night of potential ridicule.

After snatching a small gift bag from the back, the two of you make your way up to your unit, and once inside Zeke is relieved to see that no one has settled, still a lot of movement and last minute set-up going on as Ymir stands on a step-ladder to secure what must be the last pin in a string of lights she’s hung up along the ceiling.

It makes you stop in your tracks, and Zeke watches as you look around, note the tiny Christmas tree on the coffee table, weighed down with even tinier ornaments and cheap tinsel. There are finger sandwiches also stacked into a vague tree shape and a couple cartons of cookies decorated with red and green.

“Mir, you did all this?”

“What do ya’ mean all this? It’s some lame lights and a tree,” she says, slightly out of breath when she hops off the stool, showing off her garish, pink sweater that reads Sleigh the Patriarchy, Santa underneath, flipping everyone off while flying behind his reindeer.

“Still effort,” you state, walking further into the apartment.

Zeke has to fight the urge to follow closely after, to reach out and pull you back, keep you close to him. There’s no reason to. This is a night with friends. His friends. You’re technically the tag-along since your group is the one in Cape Cod, so why is it that Zeke feels like attaching himself to you?

“White Elephant gifts on the table,” Ymir tells him, motioning toward the pile of them.

“Lemme grab mine from my room,” you say, slipping away from the group and into the back.

With you out of the sight, Zeke can finally appreciate the rest of his surroundings. The festive lights are cute, and the crackling fireplace that the TV is set to makes him smirk. There’s even some mistletoe (that’s really holly) hanging over the kitchen entryway.

“Never took you as the maternal type,” he tells Ymir a little snidely.

Her initial comeback is a sharp, “Fuck off,” which is fair, Zeke thinks, but she follows it with a lower, “It’s for them. They deserve cute shit and festivities and stuff. They’re just kids.”

Zeke’s stomach rolls at the word–kids–because he definitely does not want to think of you in such a way. You’re a little naive sometimes, but there’s nothing innocent about you. Not anymore.

“I think she would’ve been fine doing what we have been the past couple years,” Ymir continues, nodding in the direction of your bedroom. “But, Marco for sure needs this. Usually Jean and your brother are here to keep him distracted during holidays, but–”

“Yeah, they’re all gone right now.”

“Any particular reason you’re not with ‘em?”

Zeke makes a face and tells her honestly, “I’m not a huge fan of family gatherings that involve my stepmom.”

“Don’t vibe?”

“Not one bit.”

You come back out to the front, one hand holding a present, the other holding Marco’s arm. He looks a little mopey, but that’s to be expected. Everyone dicks around for a few more minutes, gathering drinks and snacks then taking up spots in the living room.

Ymir goes over the rules of White Elephant and decides to start with the youngest. Marco goes for the bag closest to him, pulls out some white tissue paper followed by what looks to be a faded beach towel. Snorts and snickers erupt among everyone as he unfolds it, showing off the Star Wars movie still that has seen better days.

“I’ve had that since Phantom Menace came out,” Bertl says. “It was time to pass it on.”

Marco’s lips twitch into a soft smile as he chuckles, “Thanks,” then folds it back up and sits it in his lap. “Vintage.”

A few groans can be heard throughout the room, one of them being Zeke’s because vintage? Really?

You’re up next, and Zeke tries not to stare too hard, but it’s near impossible given the way your jeans hug your ass perfectly as you bend and reach for a wrapped gift. It’s from Marcel, a Fox and the Hound VHS that makes you go all soft in the face.

“Oh my god, this is so cute. No one is allowed to steal it.”

“It was my favorite as a kid,” he tells everyone. “I think I’d cry if I watched it now.”

Porco mumbles, “Pussy,” under his breath which earns him a kick from his brother, and then the exchange continues.

Hitch’s promise ring from high school ends up in Porco’s grubby hands. Marcel unwraps a self portrait of Ymir that Annie ends up stealing which leaves the older Galliard to pick Marco’s gift of shoe freshener balls which Marcel actually seems quite happy with. Hitch gets Porco’s old shark tooth necklace, Reiner rolls his eyes at Zeke’s signed baseball, but it gets several laughs, and that’s all anyone really cares about at this point. Bertholdt finds himself with Reiner’s old iPhone charger, then Ymir ends up with Annie’s gift which is soap that Bertholdt took a bite out of on a dare. Zeke has half a mind to steal that one because it’s fucking funny, but he’s kept track and knows the last present is from you.

He is not disappointed, trying to keep the heat in his body at bay when he opens it to find a half empty bottle of perfume.

“Just what I always wanted,” he muses, mostly sarcastic, but when he locks eyes with you, he knows you can read his expression. He is all too happy about this, has gotten stoned off your smell before, and now he has it at the tips of his fingers whenever he wants. How serendipitous.

“Yeah, now you can smell like cute chick all the time,” Porco jokes.

“Maybe it’ll be a red flag for all the girls who’re weirdly attracted to you,” Ymir adds snarkily, and you quickly lower your head as if to provide cover for yourself.

Zeke hums, “Maybe,” then cracks a grin. “Good game, guys. That was fun.”

“It was! New tradition?”

“I’m down.”

A chorus of agreements and jokey small talk, and then Ymir introduces the next game–the whipped cream trickshot challenge. Not everyone’s hand-eye coordination is up to par, and it results in some cream on the ceiling as well as on Bertholdt’s sweater and in Marco’s hair. You manage to get half of yours in your mouth, but the other half is a little off, sliding down the side of your face onto the floor and leaving a white residue that has Zeke thinking all manner of terrible thoughts. He doesn’t even realize he’s licking his lips until he catches your eye again, and god dammit, he actually blushes at being caught.

It’s difficult having to keep his distance, especially the more he drinks. Slowly but surely, he gravitates toward you. As everyone else is hooting and hollering in the living room, Zeke makes his way to the kitchen where he knows you are, probably getting another drink. Conveniently enough, so is he.

You cross paths at the threshold, right under the “mistletoe”, and he didn’t plan that, but he also didn’t not. Zeke won’t actually kiss you here–way, way too risky–but the two of you stop and look at each other for much too long. His mouth curves upward. You bite your lip and blink up at him with eyes hazy with inebriation.

He’s ready to leave. With you. Ready to be in the privacy of his own home or even his car, ready to have you in his lap, on his cock, moaning his name in broken little sobs. Fuck, he wants you so bad, he can feel his dick stirring in his jeans.

“Ehem.”

Both of you startle and turn to find Hitch standing a few feet away. She is wearing possibly the most devious smile Zeke has ever seen, and all he can think is, well, shit.

“Just gotta get past ya’,” she says with a little giggle.

Zeke can hear you swallow before you slink to the side, and once Hitch slips between the two of you, he looks down to see panicked eyes staring back.

“It’s fine,” he tells you, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll handle it.”

You nod quickly, frantically, then turn and walk away, knees practically knocking together.

Running a hand through his hair, Zeke sighs before stepping into the kitchen. Hitch is leaning against one of the counters sipping a bottled beer, looking at him like she knew he would come speak with her.

“Listen–”

“No one knows, do they?” she guesses, tongue poking out as she grins.

Zeke glances over his shoulder to make sure no one’s listening then shakes his head. “No.”

“She’s legal, right? I know she’s older than Marco, but–”

“Yeah, she’s nineteen.”

“And, you’re…”

He tries not to scoff, doesn’t want to come off as offended or, even worse, ashamed. “Twenty-seven.”

Shrugging, Hitch makes a flippant noise. She really doesn’t look worried at all, more amused than anything.

“That’s not terrible. My boyfriend is almost fifteen years older than me.”

That catches his attention. Women and older guys. He can only pretend to understand. Pretend and be grateful.

“I’m not concerned about the age gap as much as I’m concerned about Ymir and everyone else.”

“I get it,” she nods, sounding sincere when she tells him, “My lips are sealed.”

“I appreciate it.”

He stands for another few awkward seconds before turning back around to head into the den. You’re pretty much zoned out on the couch, only looking up when Zeke passes in front of you, trying to be as subtle as possible as he gives you a quick thumbs up, and he can see your entire body visibly relax.

Crisis averted. For now, anyway.

You manage to catch Hitch outside when she takes a smoke break. You know Zeke handled things, but you’d still like to address what she saw yourself, just for peace of mind (and also to make sure he wasn’t mean about it because you have witnessed him get short with people from time to time).

“Hey, girlypop. Thought I might see you before the night was over,” Hitch greets cheerily.

She seems nice enough, though you haven’t talked to her other than introductions at the restaurant and the short conversation as you were all splitting up to come here.

“Yeah, um…”

“Hey, don’t stress. I already told the hipster–your secret’s safe with me.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, relieved all over again.

“I kinda know how you feel, actually,” she goes on, and you tilt your head in interest. “The guy I’ve been seeing on and off for the last few years is, like, substantially older than me.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Also, has a girlfriend half the time.”

That gives you pause. “Oh.”

“It’s okay,” she waves off before taking a drag from her cigarette. “I’m mostly okay with being a side piece. No one fucks me like he does, ya’ know?” She giggles again, all bubbly and bad. “I know you know.”

Your face is very quickly on fire, your only saving grace being the cold wind blowing, but she’s right. She’s so right. You know all too well what it’s like to be fucked so good you just have to keep going back.

“Y-yeah,” you huff, finally smiling. “Yeah, I know.”

She’s gleeful, full of satisfaction when she teases, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, okay?” putting her cigarette out. When she looks back at you, her hazel eyes are dancing with mirth. “I’ve got your back. I can even be your cover story when you need one. I definitely know what it’s like to have to sneak around.”

“That–” you take a deep breath, really process what she’s saying, what she’s offering, and realize, “—that would be really, really nice, actually.” Would make things so much easier.

You jump when Hitch squeals excitedly, suddenly grabbing both of your hands. “Excellent! Consider me your new best friend.”

It would be nice to have someone you can actually talk to about this, someone who knows and even understands.

She only proves that she does when she adds, “Sneaking is hard, but you do have to admit–” she begins pulling you back toward the apartment just in time for you to start getting a little too chilled. “—it’s at least half the fun.”

Another thing to agree on. And, when you get back inside and see Zeke relaxing in a chair, ankle kicked over his leg, in his silly Lord of the Rings sweater, all you want to do is sneak around with him some more.

It goes without saying that when the little party comes to a close at about ten, you are thrilled that Hitch makes a show of proclaiming her adoration for you and basically demanding you come to another little afterparty with her.

“A little closer in age, maybe easier to relate to,” she explains, glancing at Ymir and telling her, “I’ll keep her safe, promise! No drugs, only alcohol.”

Zeke is watching closely. You can feel his eyes burning into your back, and it makes you shudder.

Your cousin is a little too drunk to care, just waves a hand and tells you, “S’long as you’re safe.”

“Always am.”

It means you ride with Annie’s crew to Hitch’s place, getting dropped off to “get ready”, and two minutes later you’re texting Zeke the address.

“Thank you.”

“Any time,” Hitch winks. “Can tell from tonight alone you two are up to your fucking eyeballs with tension. I feel and appreciate that.”

When Zeke arrives about fifteen minutes later, he also thanks her, tells her genuinely, “I owe you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m more than happy to play wingwoman for you guys. It’s sorta cute, honestly.”

You all talk for a few minutes before you all but throw yourself into Zeke’s Bronco, the ride to his house a blur, but then everything comes into focus once you’re inside with lips pressed together and hands tugging off clothes.

You make it as far as the couch, stripped of your stupid sweater, and jeans, grinding down on Zeke’s hard cock as you soak through your panties.

“I’m starting to fucking hate hanging out with other people,” he confesses, chest already flushed with arousal.

You rock your hips back and forth, the material separating the two of you now wet and plastered to your folds as you repeatedly rub your clit over him.

“Same, it’s–mm–it’s like torture.”

He grips your hips and starts moving you to his liking, his thighs twitching beneath you until he decides he’s had enough of this and tells you to take your panties off. You do so, so quickly it makes you stumble, and Zeke catches you with a chuckle, teases, “That desperate, huh?”

“You have no idea,” you breathe, not even worried about prep. You’re wet enough to forego lube, and honestly, you enjoy the burn that comes with him stretching you out a little too much.

Knees on either side of him, you sink down on his length, hissing through your teeth then whining when he pulls you flush into his lap. He’s so deep, nestled inside of you like he belongs there, and you think he just might because you feel so empty when you’re not with him, when you’re not full of him.

You whimper where you sit, shaking and digging nails into his shoulders sharply. You don’t know if it’s that pain or the way you clench around him that makes Zeke groan and start bouncing you, somehow pushing in even further, and when your jaw drops, he leans forward and catches your bottom lip between his teeth, mumbling a breathless, “I know, baby, I know. Feels so good, yeah?”

Nodding as best you can, you start trying to move a little more, bucking in his lap and huffing out a pathetic, “Fuck, fuck,” every time he hits your spot.

“Wanted you all–all night. Couldn’t stop th-thinkin’ about you…” you whimper. He drags his mouth down to your neck in response, biting too hard for a split second before sucking a bruise into your pulse point.

You feel out of control, spiraling into nothing. All you can do is keep moving, keep fucking, keep stretching around his cock until you make a mess on it.

Zeke doesn’t stop when you cry out, just lifts and drops you, sending himself deeper–deeper, kissing away tears of overstimulation when they begin to leak from your eyes.

“Pretty when you cry for me–so, so pretty,” he coos, and the sensation of a tongue on your cheek makes you open your eyes. His are half closed, glasses crooked on his face, and he’s so sexy, licking tears from your face and fucking up into you with such urgency, it almost gives you whiplash.

Your pussy is opening up for him, swelling and pulsing and pushing against him, and you can’t tell if you want him out or if you want more of him, settling on the latter because you’d be stupid to stop him, stupid to protest when he’s this perfect–fuck, he’s perfect. Everything about him has you completely enraptured. Possessed. You feel like you’re infected with him, a sickness you never want to treat.

“God, I could do this day and night–keep you here forever, my cute little fuckdoll,” he babbles, getting close judging by the way his grip tightens and his lip curls. “You’d do that for me, right? Fuck, fuck–spread your legs whenever I ask?”

“Yeah–god, yes, fuck, Zeke–”

“Fuck, that’s hot. You’re so fucking hot, I’m–”

He pulls you off of him, pushing you back and demanding, “Suck me off, baby, lemme come down your throat.”

And, who are you to argue? Especially in the pliant state you’re in.

You fall to your knees, immediately taking him into your mouth and bobbing. You drop your jaw, his velvet head sliding past your covered teeth and rubbing against the soft palate of your mouth, and when Zeke grabs a handful of hair and shoves himself deeper, you gag and cry and swallow every line of cum that shoots from his cock.

“That was–fuck–that was close. So close to coming in your pussy.”

You wipe your face as you stand on weak legs, squeaking when he tugs you off balance and into his arms. He’s still panting, and you’re still high after your own orgasms, not minding the mess in his lap–the one you made when he made you squirt and cream all over him.

“Maybe… maybe one day?” you try, unable to tell if you’re even lucid as you bring it up. “When I’m, like, on birth control or something.”

A rumble sounds from Zeke’s chest, deep and desirous. It makes your heart beat faster, threatens to trigger your fight or flight because that noise, that growl…

“You wanna feel me fill you up one day?”

You peer up at him, eyes still foggy with lust. Your cunt is already throbbing again at the mere idea.

“Yeah, I do.”

You’re pulled to sit up again, legs wrapping around his waist, and Zeke swears when his cock slides between your sopping lips. He’s going soft after climaxing, but he still twitches under you.

Guiding your face until his mouth is next to your ear, he promises, “One day I’ll pump you so full of cum, you’ll fucking drown in it.”

It comes as no surprise that you end up going a few more rounds before passing out in the early morning hours–under his covers, limbs tangled together, ready to pick up where you left off as soon as you both wake up.

#mels deflowered #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeager x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #snk x reader

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leossmoonn · 3 years

Text

Baby’s First White Christmas [Spencer Reid]

masterlist

pairing - spencer reid x fem!reader

type - fluff

note - because its the holidays, i have decided to get back to writing our favorite pretty boy, spencer reid. enjoy!

summary - you and spencer’s baby of 9 months get to experience their first christmas at a party with your friends

warnings - mild language

————

*gif isn't mine* (also like pretty unrelated to the story but hes cute so)

“Are we ready, baby and baby?” Spencer asked, looking at you and your child.

“Yep!” You smiled excitedly. You looked to the baby in your arms and bounced. “This is your first Christmas, baby!”

The little baby boy gurgled, giving you a big smile. You couldn't help but giggle at the little joy of life in your arms.

A knock on the door sounded, which forced you to tear your eyes away from the baby. You went to open the door, but Spencer cut you off.

“Let me do it, honey,” Spencer said. You smiled at him. Even though it was 9 months since you’ve given birth, Spencer still didn’t let you do the littlest of things. It was the sweetest thing, but sometimes it got a little excessive. You knew he meant well, though.

As he opened the door, Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan came into view.

“Hi!” Penelope was the first out to talk. She smiled big and went inside immediately, hugging Spencer, then turning her attention to you.

“Is that? Oh?” Penelope stared at the baby, awe-struck.

“Yep! This is baby Jason,” you smiled. Jason reached out for Penelope and started to babble.

“Hi,” Jason spoke.

Penelope and Derek awed.

“He is adorable,” Derek smiled. “Thank you. Spencer takes all the credit for the amazing genes,” you smiled at your husband.

Spencer rolled his eyes with a smile. “Technically it’s, uh, half of us, but it's all you, babe.”

“So, he can talk?” Penelope asked. “Not like, full sentences. He knows “momma”, “daddy”, “hi”, “no”, and “bye”,” you explained.

“Wow, a true genius like his dad,�� Derek clapped Spencer on the back.

“Thanks, Derek,” Spencer said sheepishly.

“Oh, he can crawl a little, too!” You exclaimed.

“Oh! Can we see?” Penelope asked. She was putting her fingers in front of the baby, babbling with him.

“Let’s wait until everyone gets here, yeah?” You suggested. “Sure, no problem,” Derek smiled.

Penelope looked at you and your husband. “Oh, you two look amazing! You still have that after-birth glow.”

You blushed, “Thank you, Pen. You two look fabulous, as well!”

Penelope giggled, “We have gifts!”

Spencer sighed, “You guys shouldn’t have. We got you guys gifts, too, anyways.”

Penelope snickered. She got out her purse and handed you a small red box, and Spencer a medium-sized gift bag. Derek had his gifts behind his back. He had a big Christmas bag that shared both your gifts.

“Oh, thank you so much!” You smiled, side-hugging the two guests.

“It's not issue,” Derek smiled. “Here, I’ll put them by the tree. You guys come in, make yourselves at home!” Spencer said while taking the gifts from your hands.

You backed away, making room for Derek and Penelope to take off their shoes and coats. As they hung their coats up, more people started to arrive. You saw Hotch with Jack, Alex Blake, and JJ with Will and Henry.

“Hi, guys!” You exclaimed.

“Hey!” JJ and Alex smiled. You all did a group hug. “Come in, come in! Get comfy,” you said.

“Hi, boys,” you smiled at Hotch and Will.

“Hey, Y/n,” Hotch smiled. You gave him a side-hug, and did the same with Will.

“How have you been?” You asked.

“Good. Busy,” Hotch smiled. “We’ve been good. Henry has kept us busy,” Will smiled, patting his kid’s shoulder.

“Oh, same for Jason. Hi, Henry, Jack!” You smiled and the little kids.

“Hi, Aunt Y/n!” They smiled up at you. “We have some cookies and hot cocoa if you want them,” you said.

“Dad, can I go?” Henry looked up at Will. “Yeah, go ahead. Don’t make a mess!”

Henry giggled and ran over to the kitchen. Jack looked up to Hotch, to which he replied with a smile and a nod. Jack followed Henry into the kitchen.

“Is this Jason?” Hotch asked, looking at the babbling baby in your arms.

“Yep! Say “hi”, Jace!” You said.

Jason looked at Will and Hotch with wide eyes. He smiled at them, which earned a chuckle from the men.

“Adorable,” Will smiled. “Oh, we know,” you chuckled.

Alex and JJ came back over.

“Sorry! We were putting our presents by the tree,” JJ smiled. “Guys! Don’t spend money on us! Unless it's for Jason, of course,” you smiled.

“Pretty sure most of them are for Jason,” Alex shrugged and smiled.

You chuckled. “Ah, I'm so glad all of you us are here.”

“Um, no! I’m here!”

You all looked to the door and gasped. There, was Emily Prentiss.

“Emily!” You exclaimed.

You went over to her, giving her a big, tight side-hug.

“Hey, Y/n!” Emily smiled and hugged you back.

Emily pulled back and hugged everyone else, a big smile on her face.

“H-How? What?” You asked, beyond confused and surprised.

“Spencer called,” Emily said, smiling to your husband who was walking over.

“Yep. I knew you missed her. We all have,” Spencer smiled and planted a kiss on your cheek.

You never worked with Spencer, but you had always been close with his co-works. When Elle left, Emily quickly came. You were heartbroken that Elle left. You two had had an amazing friendship, but she had to leave for personal reason. Then, Emily came and you two quickly formed a bond. Emily had a leave a year or two ago, leaving you sad and missing your best friend. Thanks to your amazing husband, she was able to stay for the weekend for Christmas.

“You are a God sent,” you smiled and leaned over to kiss your husband’s lips. Spencer kissed you back sweetly before pulling away.

“I missed you, but I definitely haven’t missed the PDA,” Emily snorted. “I second that,” Alex smirked.

You rolled your eyes. “Ha-ha. Oh! Meet baby Jason!”

You presented your baby to them.

“Hi,” Jason spoke, smiling at everyone.

“Oh! He’s darling!” Alex exclaimed.

“Reminds me of Henry,” JJ pouted.

“So adorable. You guys did it!” Emily smiled.

You thanked everyone. “Yep, we did! Where’s Pen and Derek?”

“Over here!” You turned around, seeing that Penelope made holiday drinks.

“We have alcoholic eggnog for the adults and apple cider and virgin eggnog for the other adults and children!” Penelope exclaimed.

“Thank you, Pen,” you chuckled and went over. You took a glass of virgin eggnog for you and Spencer.

“Aw, you guys aren’t gonna drink?” Penelope said.

“I have a baby!” You said, bouncing Jason up and down.

“Hm, your loss,” Penelope chuckled.

“Do you guys want to see Jason crawl?” “Yes!” Everyone answered.

“Thank God, my arm is getting tired,” you chuckled.

You and Spencer went to the living room, everyone following. You set Jason down on the blankets you always had laid out for him. You got on your knees, ready to get Jason if anything were to happen.

Jason looked around and spotted his toy elephant, to which he started to crawl to. Everyone awed loudly.

“He’s 9 months, right?” Emily asked.

“Yep,” you smiled proudly.

“Wow, and he can already crawl?” Alex asked.

“Well, by this time they are usually excepted to crawl. Enjoy this time, Y/n. Soon they’ll be running around and you’ll be trying to catch them,” JJ said.

“Oh, don’t remind me about him getting older!” You exclaimed, crawling over to Jason who had his elephant in his mouth.

“Wanna go in your playpen, bubs?” You asked the baby. Spencer came over and scooped him up, planting a kiss on the baby's head. You watched with a love-filled look as Spencer played airplane with the baby, setting Jason in his playpen. Spencer put pillows on the corners of the pen, giving Jason few toys to plan with.

“Alright, you should be set for a while, buddy,” Spencer said, patting his son’s head.

“Well, anyone ready for dinner?” You asked.

“Yes!”

You smiled and went over to the kitchen, pulling out the casseroles, turkey, and rolls that were being kept in the oven to stay warm. Spencer and Penelope helped you set everything out. Soon, you all were sitting on the couch or dining table, eating and conversing.

“Your house looks amazing, guys,” JJ said, taking a sip of her alcoholic eggnog.

“Yes! You guys are couple goals!” Penelope sang out.

You chuckled, leaning against Spencer. “Thank you, it means a lot. It’s taken a while to get here.”

You smiled at Spencer, who gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Yep.”

“Gah! Okay, I need to take a group picture!” Penelope exclaimed. “Guys, get over here!”

Hotch, Derek, and Will came over with their kids. Spencer went over and got Jason out of his crib. He left to go change his diaper, quickly returning back. You had located the tripod, Penelope putting her camera in it.

“Ready!” Penelope exclaimed. You went in-between Spencer and Emily, putting your arm around both of them. You all smiled as the camera flashed a couple times.

“Great! I will send these all to you,” Penelope said, taking her camera and putting it in her purse.

“Yay!” You giggled. You looked to the window, your eyes widening. Even though it was dark outside, you could see the snow that was falling from the sky.

“Spence! Spence! It’s snowing! Jace, do you see that! It’s snowing!” You cooed at your baby.

“Woah!” Spencer exclaimed and walked over to the window.

“Can we go out so Jason can see the snow?” You asked. “Sure,” Spencer nodded. You all got your coats on, dressing Jason up in layers. You all went outside of your house, stepping in the already snow-filled ground.

“This is snow, baby! This is your first white Christmas!” You smiled at Jason, ticking his chin with your finger.

“Let me get a picture of the happy family!” Penelope said.

You stood next to Spencer, holding Jason close and smiling. Penelope took the picture, walking away to review her work.

You and Spencer looked up at the star-filled sky. You looked at Spencer and Jason, smiling contently.

“We did it, baby,” you said to Spencer.

Spencer looked to you and smiled, giving you a sweet kiss on the lips. “Yeah, we did.”

————

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid #mgg #matthew gray gubler #christmas #spencer reid christmas #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #cm #criminal minds #jj #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #matthew gray gubler x reader #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #alex blake

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maine-writes · 3 years

Text

Ugly Sweater Holiday

That harsh, irritating, itchy feeling of a handmade sweater, Dipper would never get used to it. But, Mabel made it, so he had to.

The pair walked through the gentle snowfall, passing the usual comings and goings of that strange town called Gravity Falls. Gnomes were raiding the trashcans; a tall, thin, faceless man was discreetly passing out chocolates; and Toby, The Artist Formerly Known As Bodacious T, was living out his other other dream of being "The Spirit of Christmas", meaning that he was prancing around in green spandex, studded with mistletoe and holly, reminding the townsfolk of the meaning of Christmas.

"You think Pacifica will like our present?" Mabel wondered aloud, a carefully, lovingly wrapped present in her hands.

"What makes you think 'our'?" Dipper said, "You won't even tell me what you got her."

"What we got her."

The Northwest family, formerly one of the most prominent families in Gravity Falls. They used to live in Northwest Manor, a grand mansion overlooking the town. A few years ago, the family relocated out-of-state to pursue a better situation. Preston Northwest, the family patriarch, already ruined the family reputation when Bill Cipher almost took over the world. So he and his wife took everything they could to West Philadelphia. Their daughter, Pacifica, remained in Gravity Falls.

Now she lives in a house left by Susan Wentworth. She didn't die, mind you, she just went home.

Although this simple, two story house, was a far cry from the extravagant mansion of her youth, it did have its charms. Since she moved in a couple years ago, Pacifica has done her best to make it feel like home. The once cat-scratched white walls were given a new coat of lavender paint, the white molding was redone, the wooden floors were restored, and she has some potted plants hanging around.

The twins were greeted warmly with hugs and laughter. Mabel, as expected, couldn't help but be jumpy and giddy with Pacifica. With Dipper, on the other hand, the young hostess was awkwardly cordial.

The trio sat in the livingroom; a nicely furnished place, decorated with whatever Pacifica could bear to show off. The twins sat on a very comfy red couch, its frame was made of fine, dark wood. Pacifica sat on its accompanying chair. Mounted on the wall was a collection of paintings, and over the fireplace was a very menacing and old woodcutter's axe.

"So, what's new with you guys?"

"College, usual drama, boring stuff." Mabel groaned, setting her hot cocoa on the coffee table. "Oh, Dipper dumped his last girlfriend."

"Mabel!" Her brother protested, which only entertained her.

"D-, I mean, go on." Pacifica said, curiously.

"Well, he met this cute girl in his physics class," Mabel continued, much to Dipper's embarrassment, "They went out on a few dates, then he dumped her."

"W-why?"

"Becau-" Mabel began just as Dipper hit her with his baseball cap.

"That's enough Mabel." He pleaded.

"Oh fine, just because you asked nicely."

Then Mabel's eyes lit up, a sure sign of either her remembering something or coming up with something mischievous.

"Oh, Pacifica," she began as she produced her wrapped box grom under the table, "We got you a gift! Well, two!"

"Two?" Dipper asked.

"Two." She replied with a wink. "Anyways, I'm gonna do stuff in the bathroom. You know, bathroom stuff."

"Bathroom's down the hall, on the left."

But just before she got up, Mabel gave her brother a nudge to the side and a knowing wink. This only worried him.

Curious, Pacifica began to tear open her present. What appeared to be one box was actually two, carefully wrapped with two different kinds of paper. The first, wrapped up in red and green and images of pink elephants, had a card reading, "From Mabel".

Inside, was a fuzzy purple sweater with a beige llama on it. The llama wore a pair of black shades, a red sweater with red trim, and a Santa hat. Below it were the bedazzled words, "Christmas Party Queen".

"T-that's nice..." She commented. "Let me guess, she made it herself?"

"Sorry." Dipper said. "You know Mabel."

"Guess I'll slip this on since she got it for me." She said, throwing it over her head. As expected, it was itchy, but it fit.

Then she turned her attention to the other present, wrapped in blue and white paper. Inside, she discovered a holly red outfit with mistletoe white, fuzzy trim. A typical Santa outfit, except for a few modifications. Instead of a pair of black work boots, she had knee-high boots. The sleeves were cut, which were repurposed as long gloves. And it had a rather short skirt instead of pants.

"...Di-D-...umm..." Pacifica sputtered, but only just. Like Dipper, her face was flushed with red.

It was either embarrassment or horror, and they were both speechless. As Pacifica lifted up the tight-fitting dress, she noticed a large hole in the upper chest area.

"I-...I'm...a...I-" Dipper began, his heart and mind racing.

"W-well...gues-...guess I'll sli...since you..."

Dipper couldn't believe what he was hearing, or at least what Pacifica was trying to say. The two didn't notice the mistletoe Mabel carefully hung over them with a fishing pole.

"Oooooh" she howled mischievously, "Is that mistletoe?!"

But the two were sheepishly twiddling their thumbs instead of following the rule of the mistletoe. Mabel, annoyed by their lack of initiative, groaned and whined. Months of planning and hard work, going to waste all because of two idiots.

"Kiss, fuckers!"

@artsycooky13

#christmasprompt2020 #todays theme; mistletoe #gravity falls #dipifica

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archcityscholar · 3 years

Text

The Dream pt 1

It all started with a simple question, "Want to see a magic trick?"

Well, if I'm being really honest, it all started earlier with a different question. "Want to come over and hang out with my dog?". But I wasn't really expecting anything to come of that beyond actually, you know, hanging out with my dog and maybe drinking a few beers and hanging out.

But then you showed up on my doorstep and I knew that instant all bets were off. You looked ravishing in a pair of fishnets, a tight t-shirt with obviously no bra underneath, and a skirt too short to do much of anything in.

I let you in and you, noticing my dog in the other room, practically squealed and charged off across the house to nearly tackle her to the ground with snuggles. Lucky bastard, that dog. I do have to admit that I had some quite enjoyable views though. I especially liked you down on your knees giving the dog belly rubs.

Eventually the dog grew tired to being bear hugged half to death and decided that what she really wanted was to go wander around the back yard, eating random things and barking at school children from behind the fence. As I let her out, you looked up at me with a comically sad look on your face.

Laughing, I said "Come on, I'll give you the tour of the house. She'll want to come back in later, you can smother her with your love then."

The tour of the house is mostly uneventful, up until the master bedroom anyway. I made sure it was the last stop but once we got there we mostly just hung out and made some talk. Then I asked the question.

"Want to see a magic trick? It's something I saw on Tik-Tok. Stand here," I said, gesturing to a spot 6 or so inches out from the wall. "Then put one hand on top of the other and hold them straight out and a bit above your eyeline. Then close your eyes."

When you were in position I took a moment to look you over. Absolutely gorgeous and completely calm. I wonder briefly if you know what's coming.

With one hand I grab both of yours and push them up and over your head and pin them against the wall. At the same time I step into your body and use my hips to push your back, pinning you against the wall with my body. I pause for just a moment as your eyes snap open with a look of surprise that is quickly replaced with hunger and my mouth finds yours in an instant.

My free hand starts to explore your body and finds its way to your breasts. A soft moan escapes your lips as your leg wraps around my body, pulling me in tighter. I let your arms free and tug your shirt off.

I then pull back off you for just a moment and catch your wrist, tugging it to turn you around so you face the wall. I sweep your shoulder length hair to the said and start kissing up and down your neck. One of my hands slips down the front of your skirt and pulls your panties to the side, teasing the entrance to your already damp pussy. At the same time my other hand finds your breasts again and I start to roll your nipple between my thumb and forefinger, constantly adjusting the pressure so you're right on the edge between pleasure and pain. The shudders running through your body and your ass grinding on my cock let me know I'm doing well.

I whisper into your ear "I've wanted this for so long. We're going to have some fun tonight." You take a ragged deep breath and open your eyes to look at me. Biting your lip for a moment, you smile mischievously. "Whatever you say", you tell me with smile and a slight gasp as I pinch down harder on your nipple for a moment.

Laughing, I tell you "Stay here a moment. I'll be right back." I see you turn around and lean back against the wall to catch your breath as I head into the walk in closet and find what I'm looking for in a box of junk. A pair of fuzzy purple handcuffs and a blue dog collar with my name on the name tag. Gag gifts at some white elephant party years ago but they might see some use today.

Walking out of the closet, I give you a big smile. "Who said you could turn around? Hands behind your back.". I give you a swat on the thigh with my hand for good measure. Laughing, you turn around. "Whatever you say" you tell me with a grin, and put your hand behind your back.

I double check the keys work and cuff your hands and then put the collar loosely around your neck before turning you around. Having your hands behind your back makes your already incredibly tits stand out further and beg to be played with.

"I don't think I care for your tone" I tell you and pinch one of your nipples, using it you lead you into the middle of the room. "Get down on your knees." I keep a hand on your shoulder to steady you as you kneel and then guide your head down until your face is on the carpet and your ass is up in the air.

I pull down your skirt and panties and look at your glistening wet pussy. It is a pale pink flower against the milky white skin of your ass, truly a work of art. I rub my finger absentmindedly up and down your slit. "I think this ass could use a little color, don't you think?" I ask, punctuating the question with a spank.

A slight gasp and a somewhat muffled "Whatever you say" is your response. The only sounds for the next few minutes are the slaps of my hand against your ass, usually followed by a sharp gasp from you and the wet sounds when I pause to finger your hole when I think you need a break. I can tell you're trying not to moan but one slips out periodically.

"You're such a good girl" I tell you, stroking your hair before grabbing a handful and pulling you back upright to your knees. I stand up and undress myself as you look at me with your beautiful eyes, so full of hunger and desire. I bring my cock to your lips but you just keep looking at me with a little smile. I grab a handful of your hair and give a little twist, making you gasp slightly. "Suck it." I tell you simply and guide your mouth to my cock.

You attack it then, your tongue swirling over the head as you bob up and down, taking it deeper into your mouth with each stroke. Deeper and deeper until you’ve nearly taken it all into your mouth. I feel my cock swell and begin to twitch but I’m not ready to end the fun just yet.

I push you off my dick slowly. A thick line of drool and precum trails off your lips to my cock and you lean back to catch your breath. Your face is flushed and you don’t say anything, just keep looking at me.

I get you back up on your feet and bend you over the bed, rubbing my rock hard cock along your dripping pussy. “Tell me what you want” I demand of you. You still don’t want to give me the satisfaction though, and don’t say anything. I grab the collar and pull hard, making your back arch and your tits bounce. At the same time I reach down and rub your clit, faster and harder.

“Tell me what you want” I whisper into your ear.” “Fuck me…” you whisper hoarsely. With a smile my dick enters you fully, buried to the hilt in one swift movement. You groan in pleasure as your tight hole is stretched. Thrust after thrust fills us both with carnal pleasure until I pull out and cum on your ass.

After we’ve both had a moment to recover I uncuff you and help you clean up and cool down.

“I’m looking forward to round 2” I tell you. “Leave the collar on.”

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katekaned · 3 years

Text

i want your midnights

my @lgbtincomics secret gift exchange gift for @kaurwreck!

“So… I heard you have a date for tonight’s party, Hel.” Dinah’s voice thrummed with barely contained glee, even over comms, as Black Canary and Huntress sped through the streets of Gotham toward that night’s (really, early morning - it was 2 am) target.

Helena’s reply came tersely through Dinah’s earpiece, “It’s not a date.”

“Well, I heard from Babs who heard from Steph who heard from Tim who heard from Kon who heard from Lois who heard from Maggie who heard from Kate… that a certain ex-detective Montoya will be accompanying you to the Clocktower festivities tonight. Sure sounds like a date to me.”

“Can we try and keep our personal lives out of the field tonight?” Barbara broke in to reprimand them.

Dinah cheerily responded, “Well, we never have before, so I don’t really see any point in starting now, O.”

A deeply resigned sigh came over the comms to which Dinah cackled and Helena gave a begrudging smile under her motorcycle helmet.

Barbara’s voice crackled across the comms again. “This is a simple mission, guys. Get in, make sure Seeber gets the message, then get out. Got it?”

“We’ve got it, O. After spending the past month taking down this dick’s trafficking business, tonight will be a breeze,” Helena replied.

“It’s just too bad Zinda’s not with us - she could really put the fear of God in this bastard,” Dinah chimed in.

“Canary, we agreed this was a two-woman job - and besides, Zinda’s been hard at work decorating the Clocktower since midnight.”

“Only because you wouldn’t let me start any earlier!” Zinda’s brassy voice came through their earpieces loud and clear. “This clocktower will not become party ready all by itself!”

“Ooh that reminds me,” Dinah said in a sing-song tone. “Hel - you need to look like an absolute BABE for Renee tonight. Please let me take you shopping for a date outfit this afternoon?”

“Not! A! Date!”

____________________________________________________________

Is tonight a date?

Renee’s mind was always filled with a hundred different thoughts at any given moment - cases she was working on, what to have for dinner, various exercise regimens and dozens of other things, all competing for her full and undivided attention. Most days, she’s a consummate pro at multitasking but, this December 31, one thought returned again and again to the forefront of her mind.

She paced all around her apartment, careful to step over the piles of gear strewn haphazardly on the floor, as she pondered whether or not Helena Bertinelli, her occasional (though more and more frequent) partner in vigilantism, had invited her to a New Year’s Eve party tonight as a friend-date or … as a date-date. The party was being hosted by Helena’s crime-fighting team, the Birds of Prey, and, according to her, was going to be a relatively small affair attended by teammates and a few affiliated heroes. Which did little to assuage Renee’s anxiety.

Renee Montoya is not typically one to worry about such silly and mundane things as whether the girl she (potentially) likes likes her back. Renee Montoya sleeps with women and breaks their hearts and she doesn’t do the whole dating thing. (Not anymore. Not after Daria. Not after Kate.) So to feel her heart jumping in her throat like she’s a damn schoolgirl again is not a familiar sensation and she doesn’t like it, not one bit.

Outside her windows, the telltale early signs of a winter storm were taking place. The wind picked up, whistling sharply through the alley below and carrying white flurries along the way. Overhead, thick, gray storm clouds menaced the city of Gotham, giving no indication that they were going to dissipate any time before midnight.

Just as Renee felt herself about to begin dissecting and analyzing every interaction she’d had with Helena since she asked her to attend the party with her, a sharp rap sounded from her door. Trying to ignore the sweat gathering under her armpits, she ran her hands through her hair one final time and went to open the door.

“Hey, I know I didn’t buzz up, but your doorman recognized me, I think from when we had drinks a few nights ago, uh, and he just let me up, so, yeah…” Helena trailed off as she took in the funny expression on Renee’s face. “You feeling okay, Montoya?”

Renee was not, in fact, doing okay. In fact, the very sight of Helena Bertinelli standing in her doorway, looking absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous had driven all the air out of her lungs and all coherent thought out of her brain. Helena’s dark curls were piled high on her head with a few stray curls framing her face and she wore a black cropped turtleneck with the tightest pair of leather pants Renee had quite possibly ever seen. Fortunately, at Helena’s confused expression, a few synapses in Renee’s brain began firing again and she managed to stop looking like she had recently been concussed.

“Oh, um, I was just, uh, thinking … it’s kind of cold for, y’know, a turtleneck.”

Oh, God, now she knows you were looking at her abs! Say something different! Anything!

“Not that there’s, uh, anything wrong with that, you look great, I mean, you always look great. Um. D’you wanna come in and drink something?”

Great save, Montoya. How are you the same suave lesbian who managed to bed a woman in Kahndaq of all places?

As Renee held the door open for Helena to enter her apartment, she tried to keep her eyes from gazing too long at any ... particular part of her body and, in doing so, missed the shy smile on Helena’s lips at Renee’s flustered greeting. Helena sauntered into the kitchenette area and sat down on a barstool at the counter.

“What do you have?”

“I’ve got lemonade, OJ, water, of course, and some non-alcoholic eggnog that Kate and Mags brought over earlier this week!”

Renee managed to find two clean glasses and turned to Helena, waiting for her response. She noticed an almost pensive furrow in her brow that definitely wasn’t there before. The playful light in her eyes also seemed to have vanished.

“Just some water will be fine. I’ll need to be well-hydrated to withstand even one of Zinda’s drinks tonight.”

“Alright, then,” Renee shrugged and grabbed a pitcher from her fridge, filling the two glasses and handing one over to Helena. “Are Zinda’s drinks really that potent?”

“Oh, God,” Helena snorted in the middle of her first sip. “Just be grateful you don’t drink anymore because that shit could take down a fucking elephant.”

Renee inhaled sharply through her nose as she drank deeply from her glass of water.

Helena flushed deeply and shot an apologetic look across the counter. “Shit, Renee, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of -”

Renee cut her off, “It’s fine, really, Helena. We should be heading out now anyway.”

She made her way briskly over to the entrance table where she kept her wallet and keys and shoved both into her jacket pockets. As she opened the door, she turned back to look at Helena, who was still looking rather like a kicked puppy, and gave her a sharp smile.

“Come on, princesa, you’re the one who knows where the fuck where we’re going.”

As Helena rushed out the door and started toward the stairs, Renee turned to lock the closed door behind her and took a slow, deep breath.

So not a date.

______________________________________________________________

As soon as the elevator doors slid open, Renee and Helena were hit by a barrage of sound and lights from the loft space at the top of the Gotham Clocktower. Stepping out into the brightly lit, colorfully decorated and rambunctious party from the cold, damp and dark streets of Gotham was a jarring experience. Seeing the party already at full tilt, sent a fresh prickle of nerves through Renee, when she felt a cold hand slip into hers and squeeze it tight.

She glanced up at Helena’s face. Much of the tension from the motorcycle ride over and the brief yet eternal ride up the elevator seemed to have disappeared upon their entrance into Helena’s second home. Helena smiled softly at Renee.

“Don’t worry. I’ll show you around.”

As Helena tugged her further into the celebration, Renee felt her heart give an involuntary skip.

Stop it, she admonished internally. She’s just being friendly.

“This is the kiddie table!” Helena’s face looked almost completely different with the giant, shit-eating grin she sported as she gestured to six young girls grouped around a flat-screen television, all with video game controllers in their hands and surrounded by bowls of various snacks and bottles of soda.

“Just because you guys are ancient doesn’t make us kids,” fired back a tall, blonde girl in a purple sweater without even looking up from the TV screen. “Anyways, Cass and I are only here because Zinda promised to slip us one of her special cocktails at midnight.”

Helena narrowed her eyes at the shorter, dark-haired girl sprawled out next to the blonde, who just smiled and gave a what-can-you-do shrug.

“Not under my watch, she’s not. Unless we’re suddenly a year in the future and you both are 21, there will be no underage drinking tonight.”

“Can’t be watching us… when you’re busy watching her,” the dark-haired girl replied smugly.

Helena sputtered violently at that and the entire group dissolved into giggles. Renee noted that all of them were teenagers with the somewhat incongruous exception of a nine-year old who was busy shoving handfuls of M&M’s into her mouth. Two of the girls were blonde, three, including the nine-year old, had black hair and one of them had bright red hair.

Blushing furiously, Helena spoke loudly over their snickers, “ANYWAYS. These gremlins are Stephanie, Cass, Mia, Lori, Charlie and Sin and they are all little shits. Enjoy your video game, girls, Renee and I are going to go talk with the adults now.” She said the last part pointedly, giving a killer stink eye to the rambunctious group. Tilting her head, she signaled to Renee that it was time to move along.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Helena…” Renee began talking as they weaved their way past countless obnoxious New Year’s themed decorations.

“What the hell are the Birds of Prey doing partying with a bunch of kids?” Helena flashed her signature sharp smile at Renee who felt her treacherous heart thump a little harder.

“Yeah, pretty much,” she’d only worked with the Birds a few times but she’d never seen any of those girls with them before. Although, a few of them did look awfully familiar.

“They’re family,” Helena replied. When Renee only looked more confused at her response, she explained further, “Steph and Cass are Spoiler and Batgirl. Cass is basically Babs’ daughter and where Cass goes, Steph goes. Mia is Speedy and like a surrogate daughter to Dinah and Sin is Dinah’s actual, adopted daughter. Lori and Charlie tried to get into the superhero business a while back and Babs basically took them in. She keeps them housed and fed and going to school and loves them like daughters, too. So, yeah, they’re family.”

Renee and Helena had stopped walking at some point in their conversation and were now standing between a set of giant, glittery numbers spelling out the upcoming year and the largest, most elaborate display of cupcakes Renee had ever seen. While Helena talked, Renee tried her hardest not to stare at her exposed abdomen or her leather-clad legs and, in doing so, found herself watching her full, dark purple-painted lips move as they formed words that Renee was definitely supposed to be listening to. After they’d stopped moving for a few seconds, Renee’s gaze snapped up to Helena’s sparkling brown eyes and blushed at her knowing look.

“That’s … pretty awesome that you guys have, like, a superhero family,” Renee ended up saying.

“Yeah, it kind of is.” Helena’s hand brushed against Renee’s.

Renee stopped breathing for a second.

“HEY YOU LOVE BIRDS! Stop hiding over here and come join the par-tay!”

Popping out from behind the giant, glittery 2 came Zinda Blake in all her obnoxiously loud and exuberantly happy glory. She was wearing the classic bartender outfit of slim, dark pants and black vest over a white shirt and her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She had a devilish smirk on her face as she wiggled her eyebrows at Renee and Helena.

“Zinda! We weren’t even-” Helena started to snap at her but Zinda just laughed and turned back the direction she came from.

“I’m just bustin’ your chops, Hel. But you really should come say hi to some more people or they’ll start wondering what you two are up to.”

Zinda winked at the two of them then began walking toward another group of women, clearly expecting Helena and Renee to follow, which the two women did after only a brief glance at each other’s embarrassed face.

In quick succession, Helena greeted and Renee was introduced to a Cindy, Kendra (who she was pretty sure was freaking Hawkgirl), Sonia, Kate (Spencer, not Kane) and Dawn. They were all friendly and welcoming (and evidently more than a little drunk) but Renee could have sworn as soon as Zinda led them away, they all started whispering and … did money exchange hands?

Renee still wasn’t sure whether she’d made the right decision, deciding to come to this party with Helena. She obviously enjoyed spending time with her and the party wasn’t awful or anything, but she just felt … out of place among all these team members, who knew each other so well. She had turned down a quiet night at Kate and Maggie’s for this! And why? Because she thought, just maybe, Helena had invited her because she was interested in her as more than a friend? Renee felt stupid for even thinking that could be the case. Even if Helena did think she was attractive, she’d never once done anything to truly indicate that she felt something romantic for Renee. And after her comment back at Renee’s apartment … well, they didn’t talk much about Renee’s past struggles with addiction but Renee felt surer than ever that anyone who knew that about her would never be able to feel anything more than pity for her.

Lost deeply in thought, Renee hadn’t even realized that they had reached the elaborate bar at the other end of the loft. Zinda slid behind the counter and started mixing, in Renee’s opinion, far too many liquids from different bottles together in an enormous mixer. Seated right by the bar was Barbara Gordon, Oracle herself, and Renee’s old boss’s daughter. She still couldn’t quite wrap her head around Jim Gordon’s little girl being the mysterious and all-knowing Oracle that every superhero and vigilante had asked for help from at least once. And sprawled across Barbara’s lap, her fish-net clad legs dangling over the arm of her wheelchair was Dinah Lance, the Black Canary. Even though Renee had met Dinah and even worked briefly with her before, she still felt a bit awe-struck in the presence of the stunning blonde. Her reverie was quickly ended, though, as Black Canary was, well, pretty damn plastered, if the empty glass in her hand and the glazed look in her eyes was any indication.

“Whatever was in this drink, Zind, is fucking magical,” she slurred in Zinda’s general direction while Barbara ran her hands through her sweaty, messy hair. “I feel unshtoppa- umshoppab-”

Dinah frowned as she struggled to articulate the word, then shrugged, “I feel like dancing! Take me back to the dance floor, Babs!” She ordered imperiously while stumbling off of her lap and beginning to stagger back to where some of the others were dancing to some music that was undoubtedly selected by one of the teenagers. Now that Dinah was out of Barbara’s lap, Renee could see that the mighty Oracle was also wasted, though not nearly as much, and she watched as she wheeled off after Dinah.

Helena had a funny look on her face as she also followed her two best friends progress across the room. After a minute, she realized she was staring and turned back to Renee, who was feeling and looking quite lost again.

She started to apologize, “I’m so sorry, Renee, I really didn’t think they’d be this drunk already. I know they’re the only other ones you really know here and I thought -”

Renee cut her off. “It’s New Year’s Eve, people get drunk, it’s fine, Helena. It really doesn’t bother me.”

Helena continued to look upset, though, so Renee turned to Zinda and asked, “Any chance you’ve got something non-alcoholic back there that’s not soda?”

Zinda paused mid-shake.

“On New Year’s Eve, lady? You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me! I’ll mix you up something so divine, you won’t even taste the alcohol-”

As Zinda spoke, three things occurred in quick succession. Helena attempted to leap over the bar, whether to slap a hand over Zinda’s unthinking mouth or strangle her, it’s impossible to know, because even Helena Bertinelli can only do so much while wearing the world’s tightest leather pants. Instead of cleanly soaring over the bar, she crashed into it, knocking bottles and glasses every which way. As everyone in the tower started to look toward the commotion, Renee Montoya took off toward the closest set of doors, which turned out to lead to a small balcony on the south-facing side of the tower. And, lastly, Zinda Blake’s brain caught up with that fast-shooting mouth of hers and she remembered that Helena had already told them that Renee abstained from drinking, and while she could be around alcohol, maybe don’t offer her any?

“Hel, sweetie, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t even thinkin’,” Zinda said, as Helena peeled herself off of the bartop and ignoring Zinda’s apologies and the mess of glass and liquor, rushed to the very doors Renee had just gone through.

Helena burst through the double doors out into the freezing, wintry air. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see out there but it almost certainly wasn’t Renee laughing her ass off, already covered in melting snowflakes and surrounded by an assortment of incongruously green plants.

Pausing in confusion, Helena managed one word, “What-”

Renee caught sight of her disheveled and distraught appearance and just started laughing harder.

“How are there … fucking tropical plants growing out here?” She wheezed. “It’s below fucking freezing.”

Still baffled, Helena responded, “Um… during a mission, we, er, liberated some of Poison Ivy’s experiments and after Babs determined they weren’t dangerous or anything, she put them out here. Turns out they’re, like, immune to the weather or some shit.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense.”

As Helena was talking, Renee slowly pulled herself together and grew more somber. Helena started to move toward her.

“I should’ve known this was a bad idea.”

“...what?” Helena stopped in her tracks at Renee’s words.

“Coming here. To a Birds of Prey New Year’s Eve party. I don’t belong here… I’m the Question not fucking Hawkgirl or Black Canary or whatever.”

“I don’t have any special powers, either.” Helena frowned. “And you do belong here. Because I invited you.”

Renee shook her head and turned to look at the view from the balcony. “Kate said this was a bad idea. I should’ve just listened to her.”

Helena’s frown grew bigger. “Of course, this is really about Kate Kane,” she muttered.

Renee whipped around. “What the fuck do you mean ‘of course it’s really about Kate Kane?”

“I mean that you’re still in love with her! And you can’t let yourself be happy with anything or anyone that’s not her!” Helena’s eyes widened as the words left her lips and she slapped her hand over mouth, but it was too late.

Renee’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m still in love with Kate? And so, what, you invited me to this party to try and protect me from her? Just like you’re trying to protect me from alcohol? I don’t need your fucking protection, Helena!”

Helena reeled backwards at that. “No! I-I didn’t- I never-” She slowed. “You think I’m trying to protect you, Renee?”

“Well, yeah,” Renee answered. “That’s why you can’t act normal around me and alcohol and you freak out whenever I talk about Kate…” She trailed off at the look on Helena’s face.

“Renee… I don’t think I need to protect you. You’re just about the biggest badass in Gotham City, if not the entire planet!” Helena exclaimed.

“Bigger than Batman?”

“Easily bigger than Batman.” Helena started to move toward Renee again. “I - I was acting so weird tonight because I’m really fucking nervous, okay? And, I know I can be an inconsiderate bitch sometimes, and there’s so much alcohol on New Year’s Eve and I just didn’t want to act or say anything bitchy. And so I acted like a fucking idiot instead who thinks you can’t handle being around alcohol. I’m so stupid,” Helena spun and slammed her fist against the wall of the tower.

In the span of just five minutes, Renee had gone from feeling completely and utterly foolish and desperate to this wild, electric buzzing under her skin as Helena explained her actions. She licked her dry lips.

“And… the stuff with Kate…”

Helena didn’t face her. Staring at the wall, she said quietly, “I act weird when you talk about Kate because I know you’re still in love with her and … I’m so in love with you it physically hurts me to hear you be in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.”

Renee tapped on Helena’s shoulder. As Helena turned around, slowly, to face her, Renee slid both her hands up Helena’s muscular arms and grabbed her face gently.

“You idiot,” but she said it like she didn’t really think Helena was an idiot. At all. And she stretched up on her tiptoes and placed the lightest kiss on those stupid purple lips of hers.

Helena’s eyes fluttered shut and Renee couldn’t help admiring the way her long, dark lashes brushed against her cheekbones.

“You’re … not in love with Kate?” Helena whispered, too scared to open her eyes or move a muscle, lest Renee vanish into the dark night.

“Kate… is my best friend. My first love. But she has Maggie, now, and I … I … have you. If you’ll have me?”

Helena smiled tearily and pressed her lips against Renee’s again. This time it was not light and it was not gentle.

And they stood like that, wrapped in each others arms, kissing in the snowy night air, until Zinda opened the doors, Dinah and Babs (both far more sober then they’d been earlier in the night) behind her.

Simultaneously, the trio’s faces moved through showing concern, shock and, finally, happiness, entirely unnoticed by Renee and Helena.

Dinah finally cleared her throat and spoke, “You guys okay out here? Well, midnight’s in ten minutes. if you were curious, but it, uh, seems like you’ve got this handled.”

They so had it handled.

#sorry this is a little late #i hope you like it!!!#dc #helena bertinelli #renee montoya #helenarenee #i mightve got a little carried away

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ikesenlemonadestandstories · 4 years

Text

White Elephant

Do you guys have big plans today? I’m heading to my Grandpa’s house for the night for some merriment with family! I hop you’re all well through the season, no matter what it is you celebrate!

As always, thanks so much for reading and requesting! Love you guys!

Request: Modern, Everyone, Party, Your House - Nonny (You cheated but that’s okay cuz I got an awesome idea from Indigo_Lea on AO3. Thanks for reminding me about that bomb ass Christmas I had in Japan!”)

Master List

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

White Elephant

It was your year to host the big Christmas celebration. It wasn’t often that everyone was able to get together like this, and KFC seemed to be at least one thing everyone could agree on. For once your house was ready, you stood in your kitchen proudly. Working on some last-minute baked goods for everyone to share once the turkey was eaten.

You had waited on the phone for hours nearly a month ago, you learned your lesson last year when Sasuke called too late, and they were out of the good chocolate cake. Any wait was worth it if you managed to get everything your friends had requested for the evening.

Yukimura had been kind enough to go pick it up from the KFC a few blocks from your place, part of your wanted to believe he was being nice. The more reasonable part of you knew it was because he probably forgot to buy a present for the White Elephant exchange, and this was his way of atoning.

As expected, the chicken arrived in lieu of a gift, not that you minded; it was expensive to feed that many people, so if Yuki wanted to take it, you’d let him. Everyone gathered around your coffee table while Nobunaga put on his favorite record some festive white noise to help the conversation along.

It had been a long time since everyone had gotten together like this under one roof, it was usually reserved for weddings, funerals, Christmas and New Years. Fortunately, there were more of some events than others. Shingen had scared everyone a while back, but he seemed to be doing well now. Not that he’d ever let anyone know if he was feeling sick again anyway. Kenshin or Yukimura would have to force that information out of him.

Everyone talked as they ate, the conversation was lively as the food and wine quickly disappeared. Once the mess of paper plates and plastic utensils were separated and disposed of appropriately, the fun began. A random gacha of sorts took place, Ieyasu’s hat passed around with tiny numbered strips of paper plucked from it one by one. Number one picked the first gift to open, then whoever had the number two could choose to open their own present or steal whatever had just been opened. If your gift was stolen, you got to then either decide to open a new gift or take someone else’s. Then the cycle repeated until a gift had been stolen three times or everything had been opened.

Since he bought the night’s dinner, Yukimura sat near your tree and proctored the event. Everything was going well until Masamune had the knife set stolen from him by Kenshin. Then all hell broke loose, and nobodies’ gifts were safe. It was every man for themselves as people fought to steal the best gift.

You had ended up with some odd drinking game you were certain Sasuke would have to teach you, it was no matter though. Everyone was smiling and talking again. You may have struck out in the gift exchange, but you were honesty so happy to see everyone again. You missed them, the banter and arguments, the silly way Ieyasu tried to make you feel better with insults. Or how Nobunaga pretended he wasn’t the one who ate all of your sugar candy. Hideyoshi’s constant mothering, coupled with the terribly timed dad joke from Shingen as Masamune tumbled off some random piece of furniture.

“Enjoying yourself?” Nobunaga asked, causing you to jump.

“I am thank you.” You nodded, taking the drink he had to offer. “We don’t get together often enough anymore.”

“No, we don’t. I’m sure everyone would be happy to oblige your request, though, should you ask.” Nobunaga suggested, tilting his head towards the group of drunk idiots in your living room.

“I know they would. Everyone’s so busy though, if we got together every time I wanted to hang, you’d be tired of me by Christmas.” You joked sipping on your wine, letting it warm you from the inside.

“We would not.” Nobunaga shook his head, resting against the wall as he continued the conversation. “We’ll get together more this year. Consider it my Christmas gift to you.”

“I’d love that.” You smiled up at him, bouncing a little in excitement.

“I know, it’s much better than whatever you opened earlier.” Nobunaga laughed.

“Right?! Who even brought that?” You snickered as you scanned the room. Watching your friends interact.

“It’s settled then. We’ll get together once a month with whoever’s available.” He proclaimed loud enough for the entire group to hear.

“That’s a great idea!” Hideyoshi called from his place near the tree.

“I would agree, I can do all the planning.” Mitsunari offered.

“If you do the planning, nobody’d show up. You’d forget to send the invites for sure.” Ieyasu scoffed.

“I could plan? I’ve always been good at that sort of thing.” Shingen piped up from his spot on the couch.

“I’m okay with that, as long as we don’t end up somewhere skeezy.” Yukimura scowled, no doubt remembering that creepy bar we ended up at after his graduation.

“Seconded.” Kenshin agrees as Sasuke nodded quietly beside him.

“For once, we all agree. Monthly get together to hang out with Kitten.” Masamune exclaimed.

“That’s agreeable to me,” Mitsuhide replied, eyes focused entirely on Masamune’s cup.

“Great! Sounds like a plan!” You nearly clapped your hands together out of excitement, forgetting about your drink. With a blush, you sipped it until finished. Unable to stop smiling for the rest of the night.

Your friends had just given you the best Christmas present ever. Their time.

#ikesen #ikemen senogku #ikesen holiday prompt #ikesen anon request #ikesen reader insert #final holiday story

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daybreak-academy-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Daybreak Academy: Chapter 15

White Day

Summary: In which Strelitzia falls even more in love with Anora, and Ephemer accidentally overshares his thoughts on the headmasters. Word Count: 1,577 First | Previous | Next ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆

The purpose of White Day is to give back what was given to you. The thing was, Anora didn't know how you could repay someone for gifting you a hand stitched plush doll. A card felt stupid, and she barely knew how to sew a button on, let alone create another plushie for a stranger. A stranger, mind you, who only now decided to make some form of contact with her.

Well, at least she knew some things about her perfect stranger. Too bad finding anything that was a creamy white proved impossible. There happened to be patches of daisies scattered about campus, so Anora did pick some of them a day or so in advance. She also managed to find a white marker at the school store (which was now under new management since the debate club fiasco) so she could decorate the last gift bag left from Valentines. Also at the school store, Anora had found a couple white notebooks with a gold embossing on them. She looked for anything to put in the bag so there would be more than just the candy she hadn't eaten yet.

Anora glanced over at her clock and nearly cursed at the time. So far, she could say that the bag could be presented, if she felt like it. The leftover candy filled about a third of the bag, then there were the daisies she had found, and she even happened to find chibi-like stuffed mice who served as spiritual stand-ins for Miss Bianca and Bernard. However, Anora had to meet with Ephemer soon- she had managed to convince her stranger-friend to meet her at the concrete slab, but at this point she might have to take Ephemer with her. Would he be mad at the detour? Glancing at the time again, Anora would just have to hope he could understand.

Meanwhile, Ephemer was rather patiently waiting for Anora at the school gates. He was sitting on the grass, legs folded, and staring up at the sky in amusement. There was a cloud that looked a lot like an elephant- it was slowly starting to morph into a giraffe instead. When Ephemer looked back down, he saw Anora running up to him; she was waving at him with one hand, and the other was firmly holding a goodie bag.

“Aw, you didn't have to get me a gift!” the boy teased as he stood up.

When Anora caught up to him, she shook her head, laughing just slightly at him. Ephemer raised a bemused eyebrow at her.

“It's not for me, then?” he then surmised.

Another shake of her head made Ephemer feel a bit envious.

“Who is it for?”

He didn't get a direct answer, instead Anora gestured for him to follow her. Giving a small shrug, he did so without question- it's not like he wasn't familiar with every inch of the campus anyway. A part of him just didn't expect for her to lead them to a place behind the cafeteria; the space was rather unkempt with shrubs boarding the school wall and a few trees that had been planted eons ago. There was even a decent sized concrete slab that provided cover for some kind of underground electrical system. Why on earth was she bringing a gift bag all the way out here?

Strelitzia's heart stopped when she saw someone with Anora. It then proceeded to go into overtime when she realized that she recognized the boy with her. It was the same boy she had run into before Valentines Day- the one who said his friend didn't bake as often as she did. For a moment, Strelitzia feared that Anora had been the friend he had talked about, but then she shook it away in remembering that his friend had been named Skuld. What was he doing with Anora? She didn't mention bringing someone with her?

“Are you ever going to tell me who that's for, and why you're just leaving it out here?”

“A friend.” Anora hummed, looking back up at the boy with a smile. “Like you.”

Something about the boy seemed to jolt in a small realization- either from the answer itself or from hearing Anora talk. Strelitzia then watched in envy as he put on a million-watt smile.

“I hope they know I'm a tough act to follow!” he even teased without skipping a beat. Anora offered a small laughter as she finished arranging the gift bag. When she stood up, she gave the boy a nod and together they left for the day.

Strelitzia didn't wait to see what Anora had left behind. What she saw made her clench her chest in shock. Anora had left Strelitzia a White Day gift, in thanks for making her Chirithy. The girl sat down on the slab as she went through the bag's contents. Her gasps with each shift of the bag's contents got louder and more surprised as she went on. Anora had put so much thought into the gift bag that Strelitzia found her heart fluttering in adoration.

Was this love?

. . .

Ephemer quickly decided that he enjoyed seeing Anora smile. It was a bit hard to explain, but she was able to smile with her whole face. There was so much joy in her expressions that you almost couldn't help but smile back at her. It didn't even take much to make her smile either. Just seeing the tents set up for the seasonal fair was enough to make Anora's face light up in wonder.

It was Anora who led them around the fair- Ephemer dutifully followed and enjoyed her child-like wonder. They tried a few games and even won some prizes. Ephemer gave them all to Anora; today was all about repaying her for her Valentines gift, after all. As the day wore on, the more Ephemer started to become curious about this girl. When he got them some food, and they sat down in the grass, he finally decided to ask her some things.

“So what's your story?” Ephemer asked. “Everyone's got one.”

Anora, who had been happily nibbling on an oversized lollipop, stopped moving. She refused to look at him. But, unfortunately for her, Ephemer was stubborn.

“A bit shy, huh?” he bemused. “Don't worry, I'll go first!”

This earned him a little side glance of curiosity. He beamed at the off-handed approval, but then something hit him.

“Oh geez,” he then realized, “This is going to be a bit harder than I thought… Where do I start? Oh, um… Oh! I know! Okay, so get this, Ava's not actually my mom- in fact, she's only ten years older than I am!”

Anora raised her eyebrow at him, deliberately giving her lollipop a lick to show her skepticism.

“It's kinda funny, actually,” Ephemer grinned, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. “For as long as I can remember, the headmasters -Ava, Ira, Invi, Gula, and Aced- they were the closest thing I had to a family. I mean, as far as I'm concerned, Ava is my mom. Invi's the aunt that'll slip you some vodka if you ask for it, Gula's a weird mix between a big brother and an uncle, Aced's just one big teddy bear once you get to know him, and Ira's the one that stops everyone from having too much fun. We're a weird family, and we're not perfect either, but it feels just right. You know?”

Suddenly Ephemer jolted in a realization. “Oh wow! I didn't know I could over share like that! I'm so sorry!”

To his relief, Anora gave a small chuckle. But then her smile faded into a frown.

“Usually, things come easily to me.” she quietly admitted. “I hate it. I want to struggle. But when I do, when I can't do something on the first try… I give up. Sometimes, I avoid doing new things. It's dumb...”

“I don't think it's dumb.” came the thoughtful reply from Ephemer. “I think it just means that you know your limits.”

Anora didn't look at him. He made it sound so easy- for her, it felt like beating her head up against a wall. It was an awful feeling. Sensing her discomfort, Ephemer tilted his head.

“What does come easily for you?” he wondered. “Based on your tests scores in the entrance exam, you're a pretty well rounded learner.”

The dark look Anora gave him made the boy sheepishly chuckle.

“I'm not the best example of a teacher's pet.” he admitted. “Every time there's rumor of an interesting student, I go search 'em up in the student records. And, you're free to hate me for this, you were one of the most interesting students this school's seen in awhile. Like, years, awhile.”

This did not help Anora's outlook on him. Ephemer shrunk a little in his spot, knowing that he had stepped well beyond his boundaries- and for once, he was actually admitting to it too. Just when Ephemer believed he was going to get the silent treatment for the rest of the day, Anora calmly said;

“I like skating.”

“I bet you're good at it.”

Anora held her lollipop a bit tighter as she gave him a small nod. She never thought she was that good, but she did enjoy it. A small smile finally came across her lips as she decided that, once she and Ephemer knew each other better, maybe she'd show him.

#daybreak academy #chapter 15 #kingdom hearts fanfiction #Strelitzia #Ephemer #Anora #Season 1

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aka-willow · 4 years

Text

A Promise

gif

Words: 1383

Characters: Willow Wren, Wanda Maximoff, Phil Coulson, Natasha Romanoff, Nedward and Boxer Joe

Prompt/Tag:

“people lie all the time.”

“Did I just see you smile?”

Summary: Willow is taken somewhere new

Timeline: March 2016

Song: A Promise - Alan Silvestri

A/N: the last part is done! part 2 will be starting shortly.

—————————————————————————–

The next few days flew by. I begrudgingly underwent an Index assessment, got some stitches removed, and wondered what I had missed in the real world while gone for all this time. I met Phil Coulson one more time as I was getting ready to leave, with a plane on the way to pick me up.

“I think you made the right decision,” he said, stopping in the doorway of the lab as I put my sneakers on. “Wanted to wish you well.”

I gave a small smile and straightened my hair with my hand. “Will they be here soon?”

“Little while longer,” he said. “Come on, I have something for you.”

With growing curiosity, I followed him through the base, to another lab, where there was a small pile of belongings on one of the tables, and a cage next to them. “Nedward!” I exclaimed, running of to the cage and unlatching it. “Boxer Joe!”

“We found your camp after you left New York City,” he said. “Some of it was boxed up and taken into evidence, but I managed to convince them to hold on to a few things. Put it into one of our backpacks until you came around.”

I unzipped the dark green backpack and found Fanisimo’s goggles, Marty’s USB, the stuffed elephant. The Ziploc bag of photos and drawings. The bible from Father Jake. My headphones. Laptop. The binoculars from Jessica. I turned back to the cage and the rats crawled into my open hands, sniffing the air, and snuggling up in my palms. “I’m—thank you,” I said. “This means…” After everything that had happened, I didn’t think I would see the rats again. I had assumed I had lost everything. And now, just with this small backpack, I felt like I was becoming myself again. The person I had wanted to be. The one who had been so proud to finish eighth grade, the same one who had tried tons of different clubs to find out which ones she’d like. I realized that Willow was someone I liked.

“Of course,” said Coulson. He checked his phone and nodded towards the door. “Looks like they’re just arriving now. Do you need a hand with that?”

Backpack slung over my shoulder, I lifted up the cage, and even though it was much bigger than the one they used to live in, I was able to carry it. “I got it.”

We walked to the hangar, where a jet had just landed, and two figures were departing. I recognized one of them, it was Natasha, and she smiled warmly. “Ready to go?” I looked up at the other woman and tilted my head. I remembered her from the Sokovia coverage the year before. “This is Wanda,” Natasha said, introducing her. “Wanda, this is Willow.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said.

“Yeah.” The jet seemed giant up close, and far more technically advanced than I thought was possible. “Looks like a spaceship,” I said.

“Wheels up in five,” said Natasha. “Wanda, get her boarded while I talk to Coulson.”

I followed Wanda to the gangplank, where she helped me load the rats and then gave me a hand up. “These guys yours?” she asked.

“Uh… yeah,” I said. “The brown and white one is Nedward, and the white and black one is Boxer Joe.”

“They’re cute,” she said. She helped me lock the cage to the floor and secure it, before showing me to the seats that lined the wall.

“Is it loud?” I asked. “When it takes off?”

“Mm, not really,” Wanda said. “At least not when Natasha is piloting.” She smiled and helped me with the seat buckles. “Now Sam on the other hand…”

“Okay,” I said. “Are you sure?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“People lie all the time.”

“You don’t trust easily, do you?”

“Not anymore. How long is the flight?”

“We’re going back to New York, so about three hours.” She squeezed my hand. “Nervous?”

“I’m not,” I said. “Just never been on a plane before.”

“Really?” she asked. “Well, Natasha told me about your… gifts. It’s just like flying. Except you’re inside.”

“She told you?”

“A little, yes. And I saw a few of the videos. You’re not a bad flier,” she said, and then laughed. “The other stuff could use some work, but it has potential. Really.”

I sat back in the seat and looked over at Nedward and Boxer Joe, who seemed perfectly content as they scurried around. “Did she tell you how I got them, too?”

“The air manipulation… you got that the same way I did.”

I turned to look at her. “HYDRA?”

She nodded. “Except I volunteered.”

“Why?”

“We were fighting a war. I thought I was helping my people. But… I know how it feels,” she said. “These are good people, though. You can trust me on that.” As she talked, she manipulated a red energy around her fingers, almost absentmindedly, and I watched, completely mesmerized. “Here,” she said. “Show me what you can do. Can you move that jacket over there?”

I shook my head. “I shouldn’t. I… I can’t control it anymore. I used to be able to, but now whenever I get mad or upset or… I don’t know. It’s just…”

“So, you learn to control it when you don’t feel like that,” she said. “It’s all about practice.”

“What if… I don’t know… I’m afraid I’ll… break something or…”

“That’s why they had me come,” she said. “Trust me, you lose control, I can stop you.”

“Really?”

“Definitely.”

I raised my hand and steadied it towards the jacket hanging in the locker across from us. “Now, just gently,” said Wanda. “Go slowly.”

I took a deep breath and imagined I was parceling air towards the jacket just a little at a time like I had my finger over a balloon nozzle. Slowly, the jacket began to sway, and even as my fingers lit up blue and went numb, the stream was steady.

“See?” Wanda said. “You can control it. You just need to practice is all.”

I heard Natasha’s footsteps as she marched up the gangplank and she nodded at us as she walked over to the pilot’s chair and closed up the jet. “Ready?” she asked, looking back at us.

I nodded.

The ship lifted off and I watched as the base below us disappeared and we rose into the sky, the landscape turning a golden brown before fading underneath the clouds. Wanda was right, takeoff wasn’t loud, and the only sound was from outside as we cut through the air. “Course is locked in,” said Natasha. “We’ll be back in a few hours.”

She turned the pilot’s chair around to face Wanda and me, sitting with her elbows on her knees as she thought. Are they making the right decision? Am I? I had been so many things, so many people, that it was almost impossible to know who I was now or who I could become. But I guess that’s the thing about growing up. You’re never the same person. Willow wasn’t the same person as she was three years ago, ten years ago. And maybe, in all my struggle to find myself, I had forgotten how to grow and change.

Wanda and Natasha began talking about plans for when they got back to the facility upstate, about a future mission they were preparing for, about whatever Captain America was up to.

“I can’t believe you ran from Captain America,” said Natasha, looking at me and shaking her head.

“I’d gotten enough detentions at that point to know what was coming,” I said.

Her and Wanda chuckled, which caught me off guard. “I’m sure you’ll get the lecture anyways when we get there,” Wanda said.

The corner of my mouth lifted, just for a second and Natasha caught it. “Did I just see you smile?”

I shook my head.

Outside, the clouds passed by and the late afternoon sun was turning the landscape around us orange. I shut my eyes, thinking, again, about the future. I can’t leave. I won’t be able to see my friends. But I’m finally starting to know myself, maybe for the first time ever. I think I trust these people. And for now, that’s all I can ask for.

#ww writing #willow wren #phil coulson #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #nedward and boxer joe

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prepare4trouble · 5 years

Text

It had been three days, and nothing. No word from Heaven, or from Hell, no divine judgements, no Hellfire; nothing.

Aziraphale didn’t like it.

Sooner or later, they were going to make their move. He didn’t know when, and he didn’t know what it would be, but the one thing that he did know, with absolute certainty, was that it would happen. They wouldn’t let what they had done go unpunished.

And Crowley too; he wouldn’t get away with it either. There was little doubt in Aziraphale’s mind that Hell was plotting something for his friend, and likely something even worse than Heaven could come up with. It was true that most demons lacked imagination, but they were extremely good at punishing people.

Right now, Aziraphale wished that he lacked an imagination. His was currently working overtime, feeding him terrifying images of all kinds of things that he was quite certain were worse than anything Heaven actually had in their arsenal.

But then, maybe Heaven and Hell would work together to punish the two of them. They had, after all, been completely united in their anger at their respective agents. With the war called off, it wasn’t completely outside of the realms of possibility that they might combine their efforts to do something about the angel and the demon that had stopped all their plans.

And if the worked together, well, the possibilities were so much worse. Not bad enough, though, that Aziraphale’s fertile imagination could not come up with suggestions. He had, after all, spent millennia lost in the writings of creative human beings. he had picked up a thing or two.

It would be keeping him up at night, if he slept. It was certainly having that kind of an effect on Crowley, who was currently pacing the limited floor-space of the bookshop like a caged elephant in a very old zoo, slowly being driven mad.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Maybe they’ll just let it go,” he suggested, not really believing it.

Crowley paused in his pacing to look at him. Something in his gaze suggested that the Aziraphale had taken leave of his senses. He shook his head. “They’re not going to let it go, angel. This is Hell we’re talking about. They know how to hold a grudge. Your lot do too.”

He was right, of course. In fact, Aziraphale might even go so far as to say that Heaven was better at holding a grudge, although not knowing the exact state of affairs in Hell, it was difficult to be certain. They were certainly not as forgiving as humanity seemed to believe.

“No, they’re biding their time,” Crowley told him. “And they’re doing it on purpose. Both of them. They’ll wait until we finally relax, until the moment we let ourselves believe that we might have gotten away with it, and then…” his words tailed off into silence.

“And then?” Aziraphale prompted.

Crowley shrugged. “I don’t know! Could be anything; that’s the whole point, isn’t it? You keep your victim good and scared, and not knowing what’s going to happen, or when, makes it worse. It’s basic stuff.”

Aziraphale straightened the fabric of his jacket with the backs of his hands and sat up a little straighter. “Well, I wouldn’t know. Punishing people isn’t exactly in Heaven’s remit.”

The demon stared at him, eyes wide in disbelief. “Not in their remit?” He shook his head. “Ever heard of the Fall? You know, millions of angels burning in agony as they were cast out of Heaven? Ring any bells?”

Aziraphale looked away as he desperately tried not to think about that, not to imagine it being his own fate. “Yes, well, that was a little different…”

“Kicking Adam and Eve out of the garden just because I managed to convince them to try a piece of fruit? Drowning people, drowning children in forty days and nights of rain because… what exactly? Because humans were doing what humans do? Sodom and Gomorrah? Murdering all the firstborns of Egypt? Not the ones doing the actual enslaving, but kids again. Heaven’s so good at punishing people they punish the ones that don’t even deserve it.”

“Alright,” Aziraphale conceded. “Fine, yes. Alright.” He sank into a chair, no clue what to do.

“And as far as they’re concerned, we do deserve it,” Crowley added.

Aziraphale really wished he could switch off his imagination, just for a little while. Because Crowley was absolutely right, and he didn’t want to think about it.

Every demon was an angel once,” Crowley continued. “Where do you think they get that penchant for torture from in the first place?”

Aziraphale checked the time on the old grandfather clock that stood against the wall between two overcrowded bookshelves. It had been a week. Seven whole days, right down to the minute, since the world hadn’t ended. Seven whole days of waiting for the hammer to fall. Holding his breath, expecting it at any moment.

“Maybe that’s it,” he mused.

Crowley looked up. He wasn’t wearing his shades and for a moment, Aziraphale thought that the stress of the situation had brought his eyes to full snake. On second glance, he realised that the whites of his friend’s eyes were not yellow, but bloodshot red with exhaustion and lack of sleep.

“You should really get some rest,” he said. He didn’t sleep, personally, but he knew that Crowley did, and apparently over the years his human body had grown accustomed to it, not unlike his own with food.

“Maybe what’s it?” Crowley asked, ignoring the suggestion.

Aziraphale considered his answer carefully. “You said a few days ago that they would wait until we relaxed before they made their move. Maybe if we never do, that will keep them away.”

“Great,” said Crowley. His voice dripped with sarcasm. “So all we have to do is keep feeling like this for the rest of time.”

He was right, it wasn’t the best solution. Especially when one considered that believing they had a way out of their predicament was the kind of thing that was bound to let them relax a little anyway.

“Not possible, anyway,” Crowley continued. “Nobody can keep up that level of anxiety forever. Not even you, Aziraphale. Eventually you’re going to start to think you’re safe.”

Aziraphale sighed. Crowley was right. It had begun to happen already. This time last week, he certainly hadn’t been making plans for the future, now he found himself wondering what the weather would be like tomorrow and whether it might be a good day for a stroll in the park.

He wondered how relaxed was too relaxed.

It had been almost two months. August had long-since faded, first into an increasingly chilly September, and then into a drizzly October. The nights had been drawing in for some time, but they appeared to have accelerated, and it had long-since passed the point where there were more hours of darkness than of sunlight.

There was a chill in the air. People had begun to bring out their winter coats, their gloves and scarves and wooly hats. Some of the larger shops had begun to stock items for Christmas. Aziraphale wondered whether he would still be on Earth to see it this year. He did so enjoy the decorations, the fairy lights, the same old songs on the radio and the sense of love they appeared to provoke in the people around him. For a short time every year, at the end of December when life should have been hardest, love appeared to pervade the whole city for a short time, and it was beautiful.

Maybe, just maybe, they really had been forgiven. Or maybe whatever Adam had done when he had changed reality had made Heaven and Hell forget what they had done. Maybe, as far as they were concerned, there was nothing to forgive.

He didn’t believe that though. Not really. As much as he wished that he could. All had been quiet from Heaven since that day at the Airbase in Tadfield. Complete radio silence. That didn’t happen. If Gabriel had really forgotten the incident, somebody would have been in touch with some task for him to perform. The fact that they had not, told him that things were very much not okay.

He wished that someone would get in touch. It didn’t matter what for. If he could just have a short conversation with another angel, he might be able to work out the mood in Heaven from the way that they spoke or the words that they used.

But nothing. Nothing at all.

He had imagined a thousand scenarios by now, each one worse than the last. He was quite sure that no matter what Heaven decided in the end, he had already lived through worse in his own mind.

Aziraphale sighed and pulled his old coat a little tighter around himself, reluctant to use a miracle when he didn’t really need to, for fear of drawing attention to himself. He passed a shop with a Halloween window display of pumpkins and autumn leaves next, to one where a young woman with messy hair and a beautiful smile was putting the finishing touches to a Christmas one.

Soon, he supposed, it would be time to begin his annual campaign of attempting to put customers off from entering his shop in search of gifts. The thought made him tired, and some quiet part of his mind began to suggest that really, was there any point?

“Do you think we got away with it?” Aziraphale asked. He spoke in a whisper, although he knew that there was no point. If Heaven were listening, they wouldn't be deterred by quiet voices.

It had been six months since the world hadn’t ended, and it was the first time that Aziraphale had dared to voice the question aloud.

It was the middle of February and snow glistened in the trees and on the untrodden areas of the park, while the paths, and the rest of the city, had been rendered the dirty grey of well-trodden sludge.

Crowley hesitated. His hand stilled inside the brown bag that he was holding on his lap, and a nearby duck quacked in frustration when the food it had been expecting failed to materialise. “No,” he said. “No, I don’t.”

Aziraphale sighed, and he could see his breath.

The demon tossed a handful of duck food — they didn’t throw bread, not anymore. Not since Aziraphale had learned how bad it was for the ducks —to the waiting birds.

“No,” Aziraphale agreed. “I suppose you’re probably right.”

It had been two years. Aziraphale wasn’t sure how, but those two years had appeared to last longer than the entire last decade; maybe even the last two decades put together. Perhaps maybe time was slowing down as a way of prolonging their misery, or perhaps it was the opposite. Perhaps it slowed as a curtesy to them, to allow them to make the most of the short time that they had.

But most likely it was neither of those things. Most likely, it was simply his perception, growing confused under the stress of not knowing.

The human body he wore had grown thin from lack of food. He still did eat, but certainly not with the same gusto as before. It was difficult to enjoy a meal when you managed to convince yourself every time that it would be your last.

He knew that he should forget about it, just try to carry on as he had before. It wasn’t as though worrying about it would stop it from happening. All worry did was ruin the time that he had left. But he couldn’t help it. He had always worried, right from the beginning. He had worried when he had given away his sword, and every time he had spoken to Crowley. He had worried when they had struck up the Arrangement, and he had worried when Crowley had suggested trying to save the world.

Worry was familiar. Without it, he didn’t know who he was.

But it had always been something that came and went. He had never lived with so much anxiety for so long without respite. It was beginning to wear on him.

It hadn’t even been that long, he reminded himself. In Heaven, two years could pass in the blink of an eye. The judgement, when it came, could come at any time.

He tried not to think about it, and in doing so, found himself thinking about it even more.

It had been twelve years; long enough to see the world beginning to move on around him. He was beginning to see changes in technology, and to notice new regular customers coming into his shop; young adults that had been children when the world hadn’t ended. People that had had a life because of what they had done.

It was gratifying, in a way. Twelve whole years of people meeting and falling in love. Twelve years of friendships. Twelve years-worth of new literature and movies and all the other things humanity could create with their clever minds. Twelve years of new babies being born that would never have existed if the world had ended.

He and Crowley had done that.

Well, no, not them alone. Adam had done it, with the help of his friends as well as Crowley and Aziraphale. And the witch and her boyfriend, was now her husband, and Madam Tracey, and even Shadwell.

Twelve years of weddings. Of people growing old together.

But also twelve years of loss. And of heartbreak.

He liked to think that the good outweighed the bad. And even if it didn’t, the world continued. It had the potential to go on for millions of years. It could be so much more than just a battleground in the war between good and evil.

“What are you thinking about?” Crowley asked.

The demon was lounging in a chair in a way that did not look comfortable at all; sitting the wrong way around, curved around it in a manor that for anybody that wasn’t actually a snake, would have been quite impossible

He was wearing new sunglasses. He tended to change them every few years or so, when he got bored of a style, or they fell out of fashion, or simply because he saw a new pair that struck his fancy. It had been an unusually long time since he had updated his look though. In fact, this was the first new pair he had worn since… well, for twelve years.

That was encouraging, Aziraphale supposed. It meant that he was starting to move on, starting to stop worrying about what might happen tomorrow.

He only wished that he could do the same. The night before, as he had sat drinking a cup of cocoa and allowing his mind to wonder in a way that he rarely did anymore, he had imagined that he had Fallen; been cast out of Heaven and into the depths of Hell. That he had awoken as a demon, cut off from God’s love.

On other, similar nights, he had imagined that he and Crowley had become human; that they had been forced to age and eventually to die, and face a different kind of judgement. Other times, he imagined Gabriel standing over him, gloating as he pronounced some torture or another. Whatever it was going to be, he just wanted it over with. He was ready now. He had been ready for a long time.

It couldn’t be as bad as he was imagining.

“Angel?” Crowley asked, concerned now.

Aziraphale shook his head. “Nothing, dear,” he lied. If Crowley was going to move on, he was going to do his best to pretend to do the same. “How about a spot of lunch?”

He wasn’t sure how long it had been. A long time; he knew that much. He could probably work it out, if he tried. He didn’t want to. It felt as though it was better not to know.

It had been a long time, and still nothing had happened. He felt sure that by now he should be able to relax, but he just couldn’t. Every time he felt himself enjoying something, or looking to the future, he remembered the threat hanging over his head, and the anxiety returned.

He knew, deep down, that this was the punishment. That it had probably been their plan all along, to keep them guessing to the point of madness, to have them constantly looking over their shoulders, to make sure that they could never again just relax and enjoy the world.

He knew it, but at the same time, he couldn’t be sure. Heaven and Hell could still be biding their time. A judgement could still be waiting around the next corner.

He almost wished that it was. That they would simply make their move, whatever it was, and then leave him to deal with the consequences. He didn’t care what those consequences might be; he just wanted it to be over.

But it never would be, would it? It would always be there, waiting.

Crowley had been right; if Heaven were not better than Hell at punishment, they were at least exactly as good.

He shivered despite the heat of the summer morning, and glanced around the bookshop. It looked different now. Old books sold off, replaced with new. It had happened slowly, so slowly that he had barely noticed that it was happening. One book sold to a particularly enthusiastic collector, another to an old woman that had cried with joy when she had picked up a first edition of her childhood favourite from his shelf, and little by little, his collection had begun to dwindle.

After all, if he could no longer enjoy them, why not sell them on to somebody that could? Only his very favourites remained, in a box in the back room, out of view of customers. It had been a very long time since he had read them, perhaps it was time to sell those too.

He would think about it, when he got back.

He took a deep breath and released a sigh, then turned the sign on the door to ‘closed’ and headed out into the city to meet Crowley in the park.

#good omens #good omens fanfic #aziraphale #crowley #alternatives #last one #I wish tumblr still let you put lines in to break up text #why can't you do that anymore?

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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623

Do you actually think it's gross to talk about body functions? No, I’ve always thought it’s something that should be normalized. They’re just stuff that has to do with the body, it’s a natural thing. Would you rather sleep (zzz) alone or next to your SO? Sleeping with my girlfriend is always nicer. I wake up a couple times because she tends to put her head over mine or her legs over my entire body, but the sleep is just infinitely better. I’m more likely to sleep in, too. Are you trying to forget about something? Yes, actually. Thank you for being considerate. Have you ever sent a love letter? I don’t know what counts as a ~love letter, but I have handwritten several letters for my girlfriend over the years. When you look up at the sky do you ever NOT see a plane or vapor trail? Yes. Planes only come by every few hours where I live. They’d cross a lot more often in urban cities like Taguig or Pasay, which are right beside an airport.

Have you dated someone of another race? No. Probably worth nothing Gab is part Turkish but nevertheless, she identifies as Filipino. Do you wear any shoes with holes because you can't give them up? Not for that reason, but yeah I’ve done this. When I first started college, was horribly depressed, and didn’t care about my wardrobe just yet, I used to wear my super worn-out white Keds – the soles came off every time I took a step – because they were my only pair of sneakers and I didn’t care enough to get a new pair. When you go out to breakfast, what do you order? I never really get to do that because as a night owl, I hate going out for food too early in the day; but when my family does want to go out to get breakfast I like getting an Eggs Benedict. If we’re someplace simpler, I’m just as happy with pancakes with chocolate chips topped with whipped cream and peanut butter. Have you ever had a job that required a uniform? No. My internship company wasn’t strict and just asked me to report to work in smart casual. What's the best compliment you've gotten from a boss/teacher? I didn’t want to read my internship supervisor’s evaluation of me after I finished my stint but I got tempted to and felt great after – I don’t remember the exact words but basically she said she was astounded that I worked as well as I did for my age. That’s always nice to hear. As for high school, I was a bit of a headache for all my teachers so I never really got to hear compliments from any of them, which I deserve anyway. What's a weird or interesting nickname you gave someone? Does a dog count? :(( We’d sometimes call my dog Kimi ‘Kimi Chameleon’ inspired by the song Karma Chameleon. I’d occasionally call him Kimchi too. Is there a phrase or mantra you repeat when you are frightened? I’m not really sold on the idea of relying on a mantra when I’m in a stressful situation, because I don’t like the possibility of it disappointing me if I end up not getting what I want or if things don’t go my way. What are you most envious of? People born with loads of privilege. I won’t deny that I do have it myself especially in the Philippine context, but there’ll always be people who are one tier higher on this kind of tower, and I hate that. Do you have a friend with a habit that worries you? Tina is a workaholic and will literally forget to eat for 24 hours straight just trying to get a task done, and that is very worrisome. Would you rather have coffee, cocoa, tea, or soda? I have had had two cups of coffee today and zero water, so water would technically be the best option right now hahaha but it’s not in this set so I’ll go for the second best pick – cocoa. When you walk into your best friend's room, what do you smell? It smells like a clean bedroom with clean, fresh bedsheets. What can I say, their house helper keeps it very clean haha. Have you ever purposely broken something that belonged to a sibling? Nah, I’ve never been that spiteful even as a kid. Do you have any hipster friends? That’s not a term these days anymore but Gabie used to be a FULL-ON hipster. Everything about her four years ago just screamed it. Have you ever worked at the same place as your best friend? No. Do you like to visit famous people's homes? I mean I’ve never done it. Do you take days off from shaving when you can get away with it? Yesssssssss it can be so much work, so I like days where I can skip it. What color do you see when you shut your eyes tight? Just black. How would you react if you found out your crush had a terminal disease? Drive over to their house right now, cry a lot, and stay with them all night. Has anyone ever baked you cookies? Our house helper used to bake me cookies everyday when I’d get home from school back when I was in elementary. At one point they discontinued whatever cookie mix it was that my mom would buy and that was the end of the cookie-baking as we knew it. Such a shame tbh because that mix was so delicious :( What's the lamest present you've ever given? I’d never call any present I get lame. If someone got me a gift, that’s enough for me. Would you rather eat free hotdogs or pizza you pay for yourself? Pay for pizza. I feel like I’d get tired of hotdogs eventually, especally because it isn’t even one of my favorite food. Do you ever wear socks with holes in them? No, cos none of the socks I own have them. Is there anything hanging on your bathroom walls? Not hanging, but either taped or sticky-tacked. If your SO agreed, would you want an open relationship? Never. Have you ever slept with three people in the same bed? When? Why? Yes. It was my 18th birthday, I spent it with close friends (at the time) at the Marco Polo, and we shared a bed because it’d be impossible to ask for like, six separate beds for one hotel room. Does your family regularly eat sit down meals together? Only when my dad is home. When it’s just my mom and us, we can go with eating separately. Which is a little sad, but that’s that. Who would you like to slow dance with? To what song? Gab. I’ve always found the song Turning Page by Sleeping At Last to be so moving, so maybe that. What's your favorite pet name someone calls you? Meh, I’m pretty basic. I get called baby, I respond positively lmao. If you could talk to one species of animal what woud it be? Dog. It’d be nice to know what mine thinks about on a daily basis, haha. What's the largest animal you've ever seen in person? Probably an elephant. Have you ever used the change counting machine at a store or mall? No, we don’t have that here and had absolutely no idea that those were a thing. The first time I ever learned about them was in Ellen Degeneres’ video of her and Michelle Obama going to like a Target or something, and I was so AMAZED. That must be so convenient. Would you give mouth to mouth to your dog to save its life? Yes. If you came with a warning label, what would it say? ‘Will probably ask to have some of your food’ Hahaha AT LEAST I ASK Have you ever tried to learn a language on your own? Yes. I honestly cannot tell you how many times I’ve downloaded-deleted-downloaded Duolingo to learn Spanish and Korean. Where do you keep your change at home? I don’t keep change at home, everything’s just in my wallet. Have you ever had a pet destroy something valuable or important? It wasn’t very important but he did gnaw at my old radio’s cord. When I was in fifth grade I was very attached to my radio and him chewing at the cord was when I had to say bye to the radio. I wasn’t too devastated about it after, but I was still a little bummed of course. What's the best burger EVER? Pound’s Amsterdam Burger slaps harrrrrd. Did you ever show up late for an important event? Gab and I arrived embarrassingly late at a friend’s debut a couple of years ago. Our table definitely earned the right to give us death glares when we had finally arrived.

#survey #surveys

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lenin-it-to-win-it · 5 years

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rabbit tour!

i just made a “shelf” so all my stuffed animals weren’t crowded on the windowsill and i used this as an opportunity to take pictures of all the ones i have with me so here we go!

this is artemis, a majestic and powerful silver rabbit with a very dramatic backstory

basically i was 5 hours away from home on a work trip and i saw her in the window of a shop BUT it hadn’t opened yet so i had to walk away not knowing if I would have time to get back to the shop before it closed, if someone else would buy the rabbit, or if i even had enough money to buy the rabbit in the first place

the most I was willing to spend was $20, not because I don’t think this rabbit is a priceless artifact of beauty, but bc im a peasant and my job was technically volunteer work and paid less than minimum wage but ANYWAY i go on and on about this fucking rabbit to anyone who will listen, my coworkers are plotting ways to murder me that will look like an accident, but we get back to the store and the rabbits still there AND ITS ExACTLY $20 SO I IMMEDIATELY BUY IT WITH NO REGRETS BEST PURCHASE OF MY LIFE

here are some little baby babies i have clipped to my backpack (can you tell i like rabbits???), the yellow one on top is bun might for obvious reasons

the one in the middle is technically unnamed but i call him sergeant pez bc hes a pez dispenser and he was in one of my dads old military trunks for like a million years until he was cleaning them out and gave him to me

the light green one is the newest addition, her name is mochi and shes so fucking soft you guys its like petting a delicate cloud

these arent rabbits but theyre still valid so shut up, the black cat is named agugu (short for akutagawa) bc i was into bung/ou s/tray d/ogs at the time

the panda in the middle was a gift from my roommate and her name is monochrome because i have another panda back home thats purple and her name is. purple. so i wanted to stick with the theme here

the white tiger is named at2shi after atsushi (from b/ungou st/ray d/ogs again) who can turn into a white tiger but also i already had ANOTHER non-white tiger that was named atsushi so this one is at2shi

more wild thangs that arent rabbits!

the elephant is слон or “sloane”, слон means elephant in russian and it’s kind of pronounced like the name sloane so it’s a very deep complex and intellectual name, clearly. слон is a puppet that shrieks like the souls of the damned when you squeeze him and he was a gift from my high school russian teacher because i would be Blessed with the duty of making слон scream at students who were speaking english in class, he’s a good comrade

the tiger is atsushi, im sure you can figure out his deal based on at2shi, i got him at the zoo and hes lovely

the red panda with the minnie ears might have had another name at some point but during my regrettable b/s/d phase i started calling him chuuya and it stuck, also now i put my minnie ears on him bc his head’s the perfect size so im more or less using him as a hat rack which is very on brand for chuuya actually

the purple sloth staring into the camera (and your soul) is gasloth leroux and i won him at dave and busters after re-reading phantom of the opera

(last batch of non-rabbits)

the bear in the snazzy tunic is radar, he was originally my mom’s as a baby and she gave him to me as a baby and since i dont intend on spawning im hoarding him forever #life hack

yall better know who fucking kermit is

aannnd we already went over слон in the last picture so! back to the rabbits!

welcome to the purple corner, friends!

the little all purple one in the back is sukie, and she is just baby, only little creacher, nothing can change that, she was a gift for easter i think two years ago now

the purple and white rabbit with the pink nose laying next to the cardboard shapes is named violet and her fur is very soft and lovely but she has some kind of hard panel inside (she moves, maybe? idk) so not exactly optimized for cuddling, still shes a good girl

the hulking googly eyed purple yarn monstrosity is roundy blumbo and he was handmade by my terrible but talented sister @rattypants

most of these are new arrivals because walgreens has easter rabbits out and some of them were literally only three dollars so yeah but anyway

the grey one with the pink bow is named toshi after all might (i got him about the same time as bun might so b/nha heavily owned my ass at the time) and hes absolutely perfect for cuddling, very soft and long

the blue one is named bluebell the second or “twobell”, when I was younger I had a really tiny blue stuffed rabbit named bluebell that i would take everywhere but one day i dropped it somewhere in or around a ymca and lost it forever and i literally did not stop crying for two whole days because of it, bluebell the second is a spiritual successor who hopefully wont get lost

the one that looks just like bluebell the second but not blue is marshmallow, bluebell the seconds identical twin brother who was also 3 dollars because literally, THREE DOLLARS

the one with light brown fur and orange ears is named gingersnap carrot cake because I liked both names and couldnt decide and since i bought him around the same time as bluebell the second and marshmallow, he’s their mischievous older brother and together i guess that makes them the rabbit mcelroys

now the round rabbit next to toshi with the floppy ears and a smaller rabbit with a green dress on its back is rose and bunnia, the larger one is rose, the mother, and bunnia is her daughter, they have a very close relationship as you can see

the small white and brown rabbit next to rose and bunnia is spenser, named after edmund spenser, creator of the spenserian sonnet, bc i bought her at a renn faire and thought she should have an old timey name, shes a literary icon

now we’re getting into the old guard! all the rabbits in this picture (aside from carrot cake gingersnap whomst is a SLUT FOR ATTENTION) are all ones i got between the ages of 6-10, so theyre my day ones uwu

the brown rabbit with floppy ears is mocha, she was a christmas present when i was 9 years old and shes probably the most rabbit-shaped rabbit i have

the rabbit with the bright pink scarf is beatrice (i dont have favorites except actually i do and its beatrice), I got her when i was 7 years old from goodwill and one of her arms was kind of loosely connected and started falling off which Horrified me and i tried to “take care of her” by using a bit of ribbon as a sling, eventually my grandma sewed her arm back on so then i used the ribbon as a scarf and ever since then beatrice has had a scarf of some kind

the rabbit next to beatrice with the black button eye is wrinkly pinkly, who lost her eye in the warTM (it fell off years later but she claims to have lost it in the war anyway and shes old so everyone just goes along with it), shes very loose and as the name implies, VERY wrinkly which makes her fun to wiggle around

the bright pink rabbit with the wide head is anna, beatrice’s mom and wrinkly pinkly’s sister, her husband griffy is back home so i dont have a picture of him but their story is very enemies-to-lovers (they were on opposite sides of The War) and shes a very ambitious and powerful figure in rabbitopia despite having hundreds of kids to raise #feminist icon

the light pink rabbit with the yarn dress is madison, ironically named long before i even remotely knew that madison, wisconsin was a place that exists, and shes beatrice’s younger sister and shes very active and athletic but she also likes being pretty which is why i made her the yarn dress

cottontail (he doesnt actually have a tail) is the town drunk and a constant nuisance, his wife left him so now he’s always hoeing around and causing trouble for everyone (which is also what he did Before his wife left him), one of his legs is more filled than the other so he walks with a limp. his wife took most of the children except

darnell (the long pink rabbit lying down), who inherited her dad’s troublemaking tendencies and loves playing pranks and talking shit

(last one, for all the zero people who are still reading at this point)

next to cottontail we have aminta in the green dress, i bought her at the airport and shes a very beautiful and distinguished young rabbit who madison is ABSOLUTELY gay for, she’s very proper and is being brought up by

hera nova (the white rabbit with the pink nose and floppy ears in the back) who is the oldest rabbit i have (Ive had her since i was at least 5, though she didn’t get a name until i was in my greek mythology phase a few years later), shes sort of a grandma to all the other rabbits and could absolutely destroy them all if she wanted to

karoline (yes with a k, i didnt know the kardashians were a Thing back then) is the yellow rabbit with the basket, she works at rabbitopia’s most popular restaurant, the spinning carrot, and she is one of the three main chefs along with her sister

bonnie, the pink rabbit with only one ear, she got torn up pretty badly over the years but shes still alive and still spinning those carrots!! (there was a third rabbit that worked with them named fritz who was white and holding an easter egg but i don’t remember what happened to her)

so there we go! rabbits! lots of them!

#rabbit tour!#there are More but i dont have access to them rn

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pixieungerstories · 5 years

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Darkness - 7

Brie had been bringing Mr Herne suppers for a few weeks when it happened. She set dinner down on the step and was about to leave when the locks clicked open and the door opened about an inch. “Oh! Mr Herne! Just give me a moment. I haven’t left yet.”

“Would you join me for dinner?”

Brie froze but did not turn around. “Mr Lynn told me I wasn’t supposed to try to see you.”

“Ah. Of course. I was lonely, but you are not hired to correct that.”

That made her hesitate. “Are you inviting me to see you?”

“What did Lynn tell you about me?”

“That you had… A facial deformity.”

“I have … some scarring. I don’t like it when people stare.”

“So why invite me?”

There was a sigh from the other side of the door. “I don’t pay you to bring me dinner, but you do anyway. I thought maybe you would be willing to sit and talk to me. Just for a little while.”

“Except that if you don’t like how I look at you, or what I have to say, I lose my job.”

“You are a good gardener. If you have nothing to say to me, it will not affect your job. You were hired by Lynn not me.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course. Thank you for dinner.”

Brie bolted for her cottage. She thought about it. After the first time, her dishes started to be returned with thank you notes, then flowers, the occasional little box of artisanal chocolates, once a bottle of white wine. Small gifts. Thoughtful gifts. Nothing too big. Nothing… that felt like it would come with an obligation.

Except… his voice. It was deep and rich and chocolatey smooth. He could pretty much talk the panties off her without too much work. It was, in fact, the voice her dreams had paired with the monster face she had hallucinated when she was laying on the road.

It was hard to remember… had the man in the halloween mask actually spoken to her? She had never seen Mr Herne leave the house. Was he the one who had found her? More importantly, was he the one who had attacked … the man who wanted to rape her. Which led to the hard question of if he was, how did she feel about that? She didn’t remember much of that night, but she certainly remembered feeling helpless and afraid. Except she had no idea who had carved into her.

For weeks she had been dreaming about a demon with that voice. She would be in the middle of the usual nonsensical dream and he would appear and they would have a conversation. And now, her employer was inviting her for dinner. With that voice. This was a lot more complicated than it should be. Shit. She needed a drink

And so, for the first time since she had been attacked, she went to the pub for a drink.

----

“Michael?”

“What can I do for you, love?”

Brie shuffled awkwardly at the term of endearment. “Uh, your family had lived here a while, right? What’s the story with Mr Herne?”

Michael stiffened. “He stays on his little plot of land and we stay out of it and that works just fine. I was surprised when I heard he was hiring a groundskeeper, to be honest.”

Brie considered this. “Alright, so what’s the gossip about Mr Herne?”

Now Michael laughed. “Oh, you are looking for slander are you?”

Brie grinned, “Maybe just a little. He invited me to dinner, said he was lonely. But the lawyer who hired me said that he was disfigured and that I shouldn’t expect to see him. I was wondering what to expect.”

Michael considered this as he wiped down the bar. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know anyone who has been inside. Growing up, it was always the haunted abandoned house that none of the kids were brave enough to visit. Until the ad went up, no one knew for certain that anyone was living there. The place where the red apples grew.”

Brie nodded. “I have heard of that, of course, but I hadn’t ever seen one until I arrived here. Is that it? Creepy house with weird fruit?”

Tabby came up behind Brie and leaned in to add, “They say that there was some weird Victorian cult orgy and they summoned a demon who is trapped in the house.”

Brie blinked. Michael laughed. “Yeah, they say that, but it’s ridiculous! No one really believes it.”

Tabby shrugged, “It would explain what happened to Brie’s attacker.”

Michael frowned, “C’mon! Which seems more likely? A friend or family member of the other more than twenty women he has now confessed to assaulting hunted him down and got revenge or that a two hundred year old demon did it?”

Tabby shrugged. “Well, when you put it like that.” Then she looked at Brie, “Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. Wow! You have gone white as a ghost!”

Brie bought a bottle of wine, she expected that she would never drink beer again, and brought it home and thought about what she wanted to do next. In the end, she wrote her reply on a sticky note and left it on her door:

Mr Herne -

I would be happy to join you for a picnic tomorrow

in the back flower garden

Brie

That night she dreamed that Mr Herne was the elephant man.

At least until her dream demon turned up and laughed at her. “Is that what you think he looks like?”

Brie blinked and looked up at him. “When my imagination came up with you, I gave you his voice.”

The demon blinked his big yellow eyes, his pointed ears twitching. “And what if he looks like me?”

Brie shook her head. “He won’t. No one looks like you. You aren’t real. I am only considering that because of that story from Tabby.”

Her demon hissed and stepped back. “Is she still in town?”

Brie frowned, “Yeah. Her whole family lives there. They run the local pub, The Wing and the Prayer.”

The demon disappeared in a swirl of black cape and inky black smoke. When she turned back to her picnic, the elephant man was gone. Then everything was gone and she was sitting alone in the void.

She did not dream anymore that night.

In the morning her dishes were there and written on the bottom of her sticky note was:

Agreed.

-- M

She wondered about the M. She had no idea what Mr Herne’s first name was.

After work, Brie went back to her cottage and had a shower. She debated putting on a sundress, then reminded herself this wasn’t a date. She packed a picnic lunch of some sandwiches, some fruit salad and cut up vegetables. Things that would be easy to eat with your hands. She brewed a big jar of iced tea and put everything into a cooler with a blanket.

It was still an hour before dark when she set up about fifty feet away from the house in the back flower garden. And waited. Ten minutes later, she was sure he wasn’t going to show up. She waited another ten, then started to pack up.

“Wait!”

Brie froze, but did not look up. A moment later he sat down a little ways behind her. She wondered about that. “Mr Herne, if you aren’t comfortable being here, I can just leave you some dinner and head back to my cottage.”

From behind her, there was a soft sigh, “I don’t want you to go. It has just been a long time since I have done this.”

Brie smiled to herself. “Yeah, from the amount of dust on your sofa, I suspect you haven’t had guests in a while.”

“Is that why we are eating out here?”

Brie blushed a little but nodded.

There was a long and awkward silence before he said, “Would you call me Marbus? Mr Herne seems overly formal.” Brie started to turn to look at him, then froze. He chuckled, “It isn’t as bad as Lynn makes it out to be. I hope.”

Brie looked up, slowly. He was wearing a very expensive smoke grey suit, with a light purple tie. His hands had long fingers. He was wearing cufflinks. She wondered idly if he had dressed up for her. Maybe she should have worn the sundress after all. He was tall and lean like an olympic swimmer. Broad shoulders and narrow hips. It took her a moment to actually look up at his face and not just because she was admiring his chest. When she finally peeked up at his face through her eyelashes, he was watching her nervously.

He was clean shaven and quite handsome, despite the three deep scars on the right side of his face, and appeared to be only a little older than she was. He smiled wryly, “Hello.”

Brie smiled back and relaxed. “Hi.”

“How bad is it?” Brie blushed hard and looked away. “That bad?” he asked sadly.

Brie shook her head. “Not bad at all. I’m just embarrassed because, you are right, Mr Lynn had made it sound much worse.”

He barked out a laugh, “Ah yes! He tends to prepare everyone for the elephant man.”

Brie shivered. It wasn’t the cold but Marbus immediately took off his coat and passed it to her. It smelled a little musty, but not as bad as she expected. “Thank you.” She slid the picnic box towards him.

He took a sandwich. “Do you mind if I ask how you became a professional gardener?”

Brie went with the job interview answer, talking about gardening with her grandmother followed by a job with a landscaping company during the summers while she was in high school. Conveniently mentioning how she had been saving for school, but leaving out how she had also needed to help support her family. Or that working all through high school meant her grades had suffered enough that (while she had passed) she wasn’t in a great place to go to university. But when he asked what her grandmother was like, she set her plate on the ground and looked up at him.

“Mr Herne. I don’t know enough about you to even know what questions to ask. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

He had frozen for a moment then leaned away from her.

Brie nodded. “I”m sorry. Thank you for joining me for dinner. This… was a nice experiment.”

He looked startled, “You don’t want to talk to me anymore?”

Brie shook her head as she started to pick up the dishes, “I am not talking to you, I am talking at you. And there is only so much of myself that I feel comfortable sharing when you aren’t able to reciprocate.”

Herne blinked and thought fast. “I spent most of my life in a refugee camp. A little prison for me and my kind where the occupying forces could twist and manipulate our stories and hurt us as they liked. I inherited this house a while ago, but I don’t generally like people enough to leave it.”

Brie stopped and rocked back on her heels. For only the second time that night she looked hard at his face, trying to gauge his story. She wanted to ask what country, or point out that he had no accent, but the pain and fear she saw on his face stopped her. She looked away and nodded, “Thank you for telling me.”

At that he stood up suddenly, “I have to go.”

“I’m sorry I upset you.”

“Lynn is right. I’m not good at people,” and with that he fled.

Brie packed up the rest of the picnic and hung his suit jacket on the doorknob of the house. It was full dark by the time she was walking back to her cottage.

Darkness barely made it through the doors before the skin down his spine split and his cursed form burst out of the human body he was affecting. The remains of the suit fell in tatters around him and he lay on the dusty floor panting. He hadn’t lied. What he had told her was the truth. It was just that he was still in that refugee camp. With his people. Refugees from a different time. Trapped by how the world had left them behind.

He wanted her. Her smell. The sound of her voice. The way her hands moved as she talked, as though she were spinning her tales out of the aether. The way she tucked the long curls of her hair behind her ear and she was talking. The spatter of freckles where the sun had kissed her face. He wanted to go looking to see where else she had freckles.

He had been infecting her dreams for the last month. But he was no closer to her now than when he started. He pushed himself up off the floor and paced for a moment before he heard the sound of her steps outside the door.

He went very still and quiet, hoping he had locked the door. She couldn’t see him like this. She would not stay for him. If he were very, very lucky, he could seduce her with a human form and feed off of her lust to keep that form for a while. If not, he hoped she would at least stay on the grounds. A gentleness in the chaos of the world. The last thing he wanted was to drive her away.

She left and he waited until after midnight for her to fall into dreaming. It was called witching hour for a reason. Small magics were easier while peoples defences were down as they slept.

She was sitting on the picnic blanket, alone and waiting. When he approached her, she was crying softly. “Why?” he asked.

She turned red rimmed eyes on him and said softly, “I wasn’t trying to hurt him.”

“You didn’t. I was hurting before you arrived. You just gave me someone to talk to.”

“I made him talk about things that hurt. You are only saying that because you are a figment of my imagination.”

Darkness caught her ankle. “Am I you?”

“Yeah. My subconscious, or … I can never remember which one is ego, super ego or id. But you are one of those parts of me.”

Darkness laughed and tugged on her ankle, pulling her flat on her back. “Can I be your id? Can I be the desire that courses through your veins?” He leaned forward until his horns caged her body and sniffed along her torso. “Can I know what you taste like as you cum?”

Brie tried to sit up to look at him. He did not let go of her. “This is just a dream,” she whispered.

Darkness chuckled again, then ran his free hand over her body erasing her clothes. She shivered but did not try to pull away. “You did not answer my question. Will you let me comfort you?”

She tilted her head to peek between his goat like legs and whimpered. His cock was proportionally to his body about average for a man. But he was twice as tall and twice as broad as an average man. Plus the head of his dick was flared like on a horse. “Not going to fit.”

He smirked. “It will, but that is not what I asked. Can I taste you and make you cum? Is that not what you dream about?”

Brie nodded slowly.

Darkness smirked and hauled her leg up and over one of his horns and he dived forward, stabbing them into the ground and lifting her hips to meet his mouth.

Brie flung back her head and writhed as his tongue swirled over her clit and his mouth sucked at her lips. He was hitting all the right places but staying on none of them long enough. She reached down between her legs. Darkness hooked her other leg over his other horn, then caught both of her hands in one of his and pinned them over her head. He watched her as she writhed, holding her hands and her hips as he nuzzled and sucked edging her ever closer to her release only to deny her. He would occasionally stop to enjoy the desperate noise she was making, which only made them louder.

Finally, she gasped, her head flung back her wrists straining in his grasp, “Please! Please let me cum!”

“No. As soon as you cum, you will wake up and I am enjoying this too much for it to end.”

That startled her enough that she forgot he was holding her and she sat up. Instead of her now familiar dream demon between her legs, she saw Mr Herne. His lips, chin, neck and hand were coated with blood which he was sucking off his fingers.

Brie jerked awake in her bed. She was so strung out it hurt. Her period was two days early.

At the other end of the property, Darkness opened his eyes and licked the memory of her flavour from his lips.

#monster boyfriend #monster #terato #exophilia

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pixiealtaira · 5 years

Text

Mistletoe Mayhem

Hummel Holidays 2016 prompt 17: Mistletoe

Pairing: Kadam of course

Summery: There is such a thing as TOO much Mistletoe.

By mid-December Kurt Hummel wasn’t sure if he loved going to Adam’s apartment or dreaded it.

He loved the peace at Adam’s apartment. It was always less stressful than the loft. Rachel had been low-key annoyed with him since McKinley’s regionals where Kurt avoided Blaine like the plague and ‘ruined’ her dreams. She showed it in not even trying to rein in her diva attitude, ever. And Kurt never knew how Santana was going to behave from one day to the next.

At least Blaine had found someplace else to live. Rachel had invited him to stay with them while he found a place at the start of the semester. Kurt slept in the loft one night he was there and then spent every other night for three weeks someplace else…either at Adam’s or other Apple’s places…and refused to pay rent while he was not living full time at the loft….going so far as to call Rachel’s dads to explain his dilemma. Putting up with Blaine at NYADA was already nearly too much for Kurt to handle.

He loved the way Adam’s apartment always smelled. Adam loved cooking, and he loved having Kurt over to cook with him even more. Kurt loved cooking with Adam. And Adam let him bake as much as he wanted. There was room to move around in the kitchen area, and Adam had full sized appliances and there was an island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the living area and real cupboards and even a pantry. They burned scented candles and incense when they felt like it. In that manner…Adam’s apartment was heaven.

Adam’s apartment had bedrooms and closets and bathrooms…with walls and doors. Granted the second bedroom was tiny, but it was big enough for a day bed and to be used as a guestroom…or sewing room or art room or study or whatever need was prevalent at the time. The second bathroom might have had only a sink and toilet, but it was off the living area so could be used by guests without them traipsing through the bedroom, so there was that.

He even loved how Adam’s apartment was decorated…for the most part. Adam had several small trees…one about three feet high and two that were just little table top ones. They were decorated in themes…one of the small ones was covered in little gingerbread figures and baking items like rolling pins and bowls. Adam even had little tiny working cookie cutters strung on it. The other was candy themed, with little blown glass ornaments shaped like wrapped hard candies and gumdrops. Kurt loved the how delicate they were. His favorite tree though, was the larger one…Adam picked odd themes and hunted all season to decorate the tree in them, so it was always changing just a little. Adam told Kurt someday when he had moved to a house he’d have a big tree which he’d decorate with all the odd things. The current theme was dungeons and dragons…and somewhere Adam had found a garland made of jingle bells and dice. Kurt loved it and he didn’t even play D&D.

The problem was…mistletoe was everywhere…and it migrated. Kurt never knew when he was going to be kissed stepping into the apartment. Not too much a problem when it was just him and Adam. But the rule was…if you were under the plant, you kissed and gathered your berry, so when anyone else was there as well you ended up kissing whoever you ended up under the plant with. And Adam had some lecherous old lady neighbors…Miss Lilly caught him under the damned plants sixteen times one evening. And at ninety she did NOT take no for an answer…his cheeks were pinched red and he was wearing more lipstick than she was by the end of the evening.

And Adam thought it hilarious. Kurt was not as amused. And it had frankly started to make him nervous to go to Adam’s. He’d even tried avoiding it after the Miss Lilly day. It didn’t really work.

Because the loft was even more ridiculous during the holiday season. Rachel had gone nuts. Every day he heard about the Santa debacle from the year before. She just harped on and on about it. Santana was snappy and snippy and bratty…Brittany was giving her mixed signals again and her folks were tossing issues up all over the place because they wanted her home but her grandmother didn’t. And the loft had been decorated very ‘loudly’…by Rachel of all people. The colors were bright and headache inducing and ugly to boot.

Not to mention Blaine and Sam were over constantly….for holiday parties and gatherings. And Blaine with any bit of alcohol in him wouldn’t listen to him or leave him alone. And never believed in the word no at all. Sam with any alcohol in him let Blaine do whatever Blaine liked because they were ‘bros’ and that was more important than anything.

And there was always alcohol.

He was attacked as much at the loft as he was at Adam’s, even without the large amount of mistletoe, by Blaine generally…although early in the month there had been a very scary evening where Santana had drunkenly decided she wanted to see why Brittany was always talking about his kisses and hands. It was always blamed on the single bit of Mistletoe at their loft…always.

But Adam’s place wasn’t safe either, not with all the Mistletoe.

Kurt had decided to bring it up, even, but he figured that he would do so after the party Adam was hosting on the 18th. He nearly broke down and talked to Adam before the 18th when Sam drunkenly grabbed his ass at Rachel’s mid-winter winter wonderland bash, but Adam was worried about his party anyway and after listening to his fears his party would be so dull his co-workers would never want to talk to him again, Kurt decided to suck it up and endure Miss Emily two door down’s wandering hands. The party was for Adam’s co-workers from the café he worked at, so Kurt could kind of see Adam’s worry. He wouldn’t know what to do with people who didn’t sing all the time either, especially those who also didn’t speak fashion.

Kurt arrived at Adam’s party a bit late. The subway was running behind and he’d been stuck at the loft longer than he had wanted listening to Rachel’s rant about the Winter Showcase and her insistence that her crushed heart and soul could only be healed with tons of gifts…she would like one from Kurt every day of Hanukkah and at least four for Christmas and he was to make sure Santa found her as well. Santana got in on the demand fest and ranting, and Blaine and Sam added their Christmas wish lists as they came in while Kurt was headed out.

Adam’s apartment was packed. Kurt couldn’t see him anywhere, either. He could see that the mistletoe rules were in effect and people caught under then were trading pecks back and forth nearly constantly.

Kurt looked upwards before stepping into the apartment and continued his pattern of looking upwards and then walking a few steps as he searched for Adam. He finally caught sight of Adam near the stove in the Kitchen when he was grabbed by the arms and dragged two steps sideways.

The kiss was not a peck on the cheek.

Adam was at his side and removing him from the man who had grabbed him, placing Kurt behind Adam before the man let go enough for Kurt to step back.

Kurt could hear the slurred words as Adam lit into the fellow and then into the coworker who had brought his already drunk brother to the party in the first place.

Adam turned and bundled Kurt into his arms and then into the kitchen and into the small pantry.

“Darling, are you alright? I could take you home. I’ll find Alice or someone to watch over everything. I could…”

“Adam, I’ll be fine. I just need to go brush my teeth and sanitize my mouth and scrub my face really well. I thought at least here I’d be safe from drunken kissing. Old ladies, no…never safe from them, but drunken kisses, I thought I was good here. I hate December. I hate stupid drunken parties and I hate mistletoe!”

Adam kissed the top of Kurt’s head and escorted him to the bathroom. He stood outside the door and waited for Kurt to be finished and then tucked Kurt against his side for the rest of the evening, which proceeded drama free from the most part. There were two other Mistletoe incidents which went too far and there was nearly a fist fight over the Christmas Trivia game, but Adam managed to rein everyone in when they started to get rowdier than optimal in such a small space. Kurt was never more than an arm’s reach away. The white elephant exchange went well and the party games seemed to be a hit, so both Adam and Kurt decided it wasn’t a disaster, even if neither was willing to call it a complete success.

Kurt started cleaning up as soon as people started leaving, which was a reasonable 11pm. Adam had escorted the last group to a taxi and Kurt headed down to toss the trash into the bin outside. Adam beat Kurt back.

He was tearing down the Mistletoe when Kurt entered the apartment.

“I am sorry.” He said as soon as he noticed Kurt watching him. “I thought it was funny when it was Miss Lilly and Miss Emily or any of the other old ladies in the building. I knew they were just doing it to tease you. But it was not funny when someone drunk pulled you under and it wasn’t funny when others were mauled either. I’m going to toss it all.”

“You don’t have to toss it all…”Kurt said softly. “But I think it should be in just one place.”

“And where would that be?” Adam asked.

“Over your bed. I mean, I assume I’m the only one who will be caught by it there, right?”

Adam smiled. “Definitely. You come pick your favorite piece and I’ll tuck it over the bed. I am so very sorry, Kurt. You should have knocked sense into me ages ago.”

Kurt walked over and wrapped his arms around Adam. “I didn’t want to make you stop a tradition. I hate when that happens to me.”

“It isn’t a very old tradition…we had about four pieces in the house growing up. The original Apples started this the first year we formed and it was out of hand even then, really, but that lot was so wild and mixed up that I don’t think we ever noticed. Cutting it back to one bunch, just for us, will be still keeping tradition enough.”

“I love you.” Kurt said. He plucked the prettiest bunch out of the pile by Adam’s feet and went and laid it on the dresser in the bedroom. Then he picked another piece and sat it over the desk. “Two bunches, but in personal spots. I’m going to make sure all the dishes are done and everything is right in the bedroom. Don’t be too long. By the way, I hope you don’t mind me crashing more often. With the reduction of mistletoe I’m going to be hanging here more often until the Holiday season is over and parties at the loft die down to maybe one a month…and with that the alcohol consumption. I am so very tired of drunken bumbling.”

Adam beamed. “I’ll clear more space in the dresser and closet. Maybe I’ll be able to convince you to just keep stuff here all the time. And like…just keep adding to it until everything you own is here.”

Kurt spun around and rushed back to Adam. “Adam?”

“Just think about it, yeah?” Adam said. “I know you have several months still on your lease, but I hate what you have to deal with there. I’ve heard about the shenanigans this month. Rachel is quite freely spreading it all around. She is the biggest gossip I have ever met. If you were here, you wouldn’t get caught up in their mischief. We could just stick to our own type of carrying-on.”

Kurt smiled. “I’ll think about it, but I’ll definitely bring stuff over for the rest of the month.”

Adam kissed Kurt. Kurt automatically looked up to see if they were under Mistletoe.

“And another reason for the plant to go.” Adam said. “Kisses aren’t just because anymore. It is way past time I tossed the stuff. With it gone you might stop thinking I need a reason to shower you with kisses.”

Kurt kissed Adam and then went humming towards the kitchen. He really did rather love it at Adam’s apartment.

#glee fanfic #kadam #Kurt Hummel #Adam Crawford

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