#first year where i have multiple gifts for everyone and got my shopping done early and they do this to me. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

navalcriminalimagines · 3 years

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Birthday girl

I can't believe I did that, but here we are. This fits the "Multiple partners/gangbang" square from the Summer Bingo. With our favorite boys; Mike, Rafael, Sonny & Mike.

Words count: 3,9k

Warnings: Gangbang, p in v, creampie, spanking (slightly)

Sorry if there's any typos...

@thatesqcrush

You had a lot of hopes for your 30th birthday. Not just for the celebration itself but also in general. You thought that by now, you would be in a serious relationship, maybe with a kid or two, or at least planning on having one. You had many things you wanted to do before you were 30, but now that you think about it, you didn’t do much of those things. You’re actually far from it.

It just hurts to see people around you having their life together. Your best friend is married to a lovely man, she has a two year old boy and is pregnant with a second and she owns her business. Your sister - older than you - is traveling all around the world with her husband and their dog. And everytime you meet with your mother, it’s like she has to put pressure where it hurts. Every single time.

The only thing you can’t complain about is your job, and the people you work with. Being a detective at SVU is hard, it’s challenging, but you wouldn’t change it for the world. And you have the most amazing squad with you. Also, the most handsome men you ever met. Seriously. Mike, Sonny, Rafael, Nick. How could you not like your job when you see those faces 24/7?

You had expectations for your celebration party. You invited the squad to a beach house that you rented. They became your family, they are the ones you want to celebrate with. But little by little, it was falling apart. First, Amanda had to cancel since her sister is in town, and everyone knows Kim is a handful. Then, it was Liv turn. The day before, Noah got sick, so she decided to stay at home with him. That’s fair, Noah’s health first. And last but not least, your best friend and her husband canceled too. “No one to take care of the kid,” apparently. Is that what it is to have kids? Not having fun anymore? Cause if that’s it, maybe you don’t want one.

So, in the end, it’s just you and the boys. Not that you mind that thought at all.

You left early in the morning with Sonny. He offered to help you prepare the house, and go grocery shopping. “How’s the birthday girl?” he asked, gently as always.

“Kinda upset that everyone canceled. But I won’t let this ruin my day!”

“You’ll have fun anyway. We planned a few things with the guys,” he teased.

You spent the entire day annoying Sonny so he would talk. But he didn’t say a damn thing. Whatever they have prepared, you have no clue. It does stress you out a little but one thing is sure; you can trust them with your life.

Everything was ready when Mike, Nick and Rafael arrived. When Sonny opened the door to them, their arms were full. You saw booze, food, and gifts. Way too many gifts for one person. “What the hell is all of that?” you exclaimed when they dropped everything on the floor, in the living area.

“Everything we need to celebrate your 30th birthday. You will remember this weekend,” Mike said with a huge grin on his face. He walked up to you and hugged you softly. “Happy birthday Y/N,” he kissed your forehead.

Nick and Rafael did the same as Mike. Then, they quickly put their stuff in the bedrooms, before joining you and Sonny on the terrace, facing the ocean. The weather wasn’t the best, but you couldn’t care less.

“One rule for this weekend; not shop talk,” Nick warned and everyone agreed with it.

The evening started pretty smoothly. You were having drinks, eating the apéritif you and Sonny prepared earlier and chatting about nothing and everything. At some point, Rafael came back with a bottle of champagne and poured everyone a glass. “To our amazing Y/N,” he said, holding his glass in the air. “You probably have no idea what you mean to all of us and that’s actually what makes you even more lovable. We care about you more than you know. Happy birthday, querida,” he smiled and toast with you.

You looked at Rafael with puppy eyes. He and the three others know you’re not used to being praised like this, even though you deserve any less.

“This is nice! Mike, your turn,”

The sergeant obliged. He stood up and cleared his throat, “Everyone knows that me joining SVU was my dad’s idea, but honestly, I can’t thank him enough for making me. Cause now you’re in my life and girl, you won’t get rid of me. I can’t imagine my life without you, Y/N,” he paused, “and without those idiots either, but that’s not their birthdays,”

“You said it anyway,” Nick teased Mike.

“Shut up, Nick! Let him finish,” you elbowed Nick.

“Well, I was done actually. Happy birthday, honey,” he bent over to kiss your cheek and then toasted with you.

“I love you,” you mouthed to him. “Nick, now you can talk,” you were excited about this. The past weeks before your birthday hadn’t been easy, you overthink a lot about your life. You actually cried yourself to sleep the night before, but none of them know. Their words make you feel much better. You’re lucky to have them.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” he said before standing up, “We didn’t start on the right foot, you and me, probably because you never chewed your words with me and I hated it. But you were right on most of the things you ever told me. You’re - without a shadow of a doubt - the best friend I ever had. I can’t wait for us to fight like cats and dogs at the nursery home. Feliz cumpleaños, cariño,” he smiled at you and extended his glass so you could toast together, “Also, you’re hot as hell,”

It was an understatement to be honest, but Nick added this comment because he saw the tears forming in your eyes and he refused to see you cry on your birthday, because of something he said. Fortunately, it worked and you laughed instead of crying. “He’s right,” Rafael added with a wink. Of course, none of them missed how your cheeks turned bright red, even if you tried to play it cool.

“I guess it’s my turn now,” Sonny spoke and stood up. But he stayed silent for a moment, “What they said,” he simply said before sitting again.

Mike, Nick and Rafael immediately started to playfully boo him, “You suck man!” Nick exclaimed.

“You usually can’t shut up and now, that’s all you have to say?” Rafael teased him.

“Y/N should have the right to punish you,” Mike added.

“Oh yes, please! Can I punish you?” you eagerly asked.

“Oh honey,” Rafael grabbed your attention, “you don’t ask someone if you can punish them. You just do it,”

“I know, Rafi. But he’s a good catholic boy, remember? We can’t have him running out of the house, praying for our souls,”

“Y/N. You know Sonny is worse then all of us reunited,” Rafael said this so casually, he didn’t realize how it sounded.

“Dominick Carisi, you’re such a liar!” Mike shouted, “you told me you and Raf didn’t hook up!”

“Yeah well, about that? I lied,”

Sonny and Rafael exchanged sweet looks, while you were silently drinking your glass of champagne.. “Are you two dating or something?” Nick asked.

Rafael was about to say something, but Mike stood up in one quick motion and shouted even louder, “Oh my god!” The four of you looked at him, “I think what you should be asking, Nick, is if the three of them are a thing!”

One thing you hate about Mike is how he can read you like an open book. It was hard to hide from him, the night you had with Sonny and Rafael a few months ago. Now, there was no point to lie.

“I can’t believe you three hook up and didn’t say a damn thing,” Nick said.

“To be honest, I’m more offended about not being invited,” Mike added.

That’s how the night took a very different turn.

*****

“I think all the attention should be on the birthday girl,” Rafael said as he was unbuttoning his shirt. You and Sonny were kissing on one side of the couch while Mike and Nick were making out on the other side.

“Raf is right. To be fair, we have an entire weekend in this house,” Mike added.

In a matter of seconds, you were standing in the middle of the master bedroom, with the four men around you. “Mike and Nick need to know the safe word.” Rafael commented, and Sonny took his tongue out of your month to let you speak.

“Armadillo,” you said.

You can’t even begin to describe how you feel about all of this. Those four men just for you? All of their attention on you? That thought only could make cum on the spot. You had to remember the ground rules you had with Sonny and Rafael a few months ago, and the first one is not to overthink. You all know you can trust one another. You’re more safe with those four guys than with one single random guy.

Once the safe word was known to everyone, Sonny remained kissing you. You immediately granted access to his tongue, it was sloppy but passionate. Meanwhile, you felt a pair of hands taking off your top and another one taking care of your pants. “Matching underwear,” Mike commented, as he was the one staring, “You hoped for this, didn’t you?” You smiled against Sonny. You didn’t hope for a gangbang, but yes, you did hope to get lucky. But this was better than anything you hoped for.

“Of course, she did,” you heard Nick’s voice coming from behind you. He gently unhook your bra, freeing your tits and he didn’t waste a second before playing with them. Your nipples were already hard, craving for attention. “She knew she could have any of us,”

“Oh Nick, that’s worse than that. She knew she could have the four of us,” Rafael added, as one of his hands slided in your panties, feeling how hot and wet you were. “Guys, she is dripping,” he let the others know, and he gently started to tease your clit with his thumb.

As Sonny kept kissing you, Nick kept playing with your tits, and Rafael kept teasing your drenched entrance, Mike got undressed. You saw him from the corner of your eyes, and your attention quickly fell on his rock hard erection. He smiled when he noticed where you were looking and started to stroke himself. You locked eyes with him while tentatively trying to touch one of the guy's cock. Your hand landed on Sonny’s crotch and he groaned at the sensation, even through the fabric of his jeans. But Rafael used his free hand to grab your wrist. “Such a needy cock slut,” he said, right next to your ear.

“Maybe Sonny should replace his tongue with his cock,” Nick offered and he felt you nodding. So Sonny stopped kissing you, he briefly took a look at your swollen lips, and your naked body being taken care of by Rafael and Nick.

“Well, Mike, get closer,” Sonny said as he undressed himself, “She loves having two cocks in her mouth. Am I right, Y/N?”

Everything that was happening was too much, you struggled to find your words, so you nodded. But it wasn’t enough for them. “You want to hear you say it,” Mike said after he finally got closer to you.

“I--I want your cocks--” you moaned as Rafael finally entered your core with one finger, “in my month,” you moaned even more when Nick pinched both of your nipples, just enough to make it hurt, “All of them,” you finally added.

To make sure Rafael and Nick could still work on your body, Mike and Sonny stood up on the edge of the bed. Your face was right at their crotch. You took one cock in each hand, gently stroking them, “I think Mike should be first. I already know how your mouth feels,” you agreed and focused on Mike’s cock, but with your other hand still stroking Sonny’s. You softly licked the head, tasting the precum coming out, before taking him in your mouth. Mike let out a huge groan at the feeling, “Man, when was the last time you had a blowjob?” Nick joked.

“Way too long,” he managed to say.

You have to admit, it’s hard to give a good blowjob to a man, while two others are worshipping your body. But Rafael decided to withdraw his hand from your panties and quickly after, you felt a cold breeze as Nick’s hands and body drift away from you. “Don’t forget about Sonny, babygirl,” you heard from the other side of the room.

Your jaw is going to be sore as fuck in the morning as you opened your mouth as much as you could, to take both Sonny’s and Mike’s cocks in. Obviously, they can’t both fit in but it is mostly about playing with the heads and your tongue.

You jolted when you felt a very warm body against your back. You recognized Rafael’s smell. He was fully naked. He held your hips strongly, sliding his hard cock in your panties and stroking it against your ass. You felt his hot breath in your neck before he planted a few wet kisses there.

Your face was a mess. It was a mix of saliva and precum from both men. Your pussy was a mess too. You were so wet, you could feel it on your thighs. You kept sucking Sonny and Mike for a short moment before they made you stop. Mike got down from the bed and kissed you deeply, enjoying the mixture that was there.

Someone finally took your panties off, you don’t know who and you couldn’t care less. You were desperate to be fucked.

*****

The first to get inside you was Nick. You were lying on the bed, a complete mess already, and Nick got on top of you. He gently kissed you, teased your entrance for a short moment before sinking inside your pussy in a slow motion. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned as he bottomed out. He started to thrust you, slow and deep at first.

The sounds you were making were such a turn on to the four men. As Nick was fucking you good, you had no idea where Mike, Sonny and Rafael were, until you felt someone climbing on the bed. When you opened your eyes, you saw Rafael’s face above you and his cock was a few inches from your mouth. “Open that pretty mouth for me,” he said and you obliged. As Nick was fucking your pussy, Rafael was facefucking you. And this was a lot to handle. It didn’t take long for you to feel your orgasm coming up. Your cries were muffled by Rafael’s thick cock as you came, and it brought him an overwhelming sensation that made him groan hard. “Such a good girl, creaming my cock like this,” Nick said. He wasn’t far from coming either. He buried his face in your neck, and he felt your nails crashing on his skull. It took a few more thrusts before he loaded his hot cum inside you, crying out your name.

He stayed on top of you for a moment before pulling out, at the same time Rafael stopped facefucking you and you cried at the emptiness.

“Someone doesn’t like to feel empty?” It was Sonny who talked. He was sitting next to you and he pushed two fingers inside your pussy, taking Nick’s cum back where it belonged. Your body arched at the feeling and you moaned deeply. “So worked up already. But we’re not done with you,”

“You better not,” you laughed.

“Oh, she’s teasing!” Mike exclaimed. “Babygirl, when we're done with you, you won’t be able to sit for weeks. Everyone at the precinct will wonder what happened during the weekend,” he kissed you while Sonny added a third finger inside your core. You felt a second orgams building inside your belly.

“You better not come on Sonny’s fingers,” Rafael warned you, “You’re only allowed to come on our cocks,” you found him in the room and locked eyes with him.

You knew from his expression what he was waiting for, “Yes, sir,” you agreed.

“That’s our good girl,”

Then it was Sonny’s. The man has a soft spot for a good doggy style, so he ordered you to get on all fours and you obeyed. He stroked his cock between your ass cheeks for a moment before sliding inside you so easily. “God, you take us so well, baby,” he said as he started to thrust. He was faster than Nick, and you know from experience that Sonny has incredible stamina. He can rock inside you hard and fast for a long moment.

“You feel so good inside me,” you moaned, “Fuck, Sonny! Yes!”

“That’s right, take that cock, doll,” he said, slamming harder.

As you grabbed the sheets into your fists, you felt someone crawling under you. It was Nick. He laid down and brought your mouth to his in an eager kiss. Sonny kept fucking you, his hands were strongly holding your hips, so you understood it was someone else that spank you. Mike or Rafael, you didn’t know - although, you had an idea; Rafael does love to spank you - and you cried inside Nick’s mouth. Then you felt someone grabbing your arms to lock them in your back. Nick held you close against him, stroking your hair as your second orgasm hit you hard.

Feeling your pussy clenching around his cock, and hearing you cursing non sense, sent Sonny over the edge. He almost collapsed on you as he came deep inside you.

You felt the emptiness when Sonny took his cock out of you but it was quickly filled by someone’s fingers. You were just a pile of lambs on Nick, but you jolted when one of them curled two fingers inside your pussy. “You love that, don’t you? Nick’s and Sonny’s cum mixing inside you,” You don’t know if that’s Rafael that is fingering you but he’s the one talking. You were still catching your breath when the fingers were replaced by a cock teasing your entrance.

“Do you want to keep going, babygirl? We can st--”

“I didn’t say the word, did I, Mike?” you shot.

“Right. Then it’s my turn to fill that pussy,” he didn’t give you the time to answer, he shoved his cock inside your cunt.

“Oh fuck! Mike, yes!”” you cried.

Nick stayed under you as Mike fucked you hard. Mike’s short nails scratched your back as he went in and out of you. He withdrew completely before sinking back and bottoming down. He did that a few times, enjoying your noises every time he hit your sweet spot. “Damn, that pussy is so perfect,” he growled.

“It was made for us,” Sonny said.

On your left, you saw Rafael standing there, stroking his cock as he watched Mike fucking you. You extended your hand to replace his and he let you. “You can’t get enough,” he teased you.

“Never,” you grinned.

Mike grabbed your hair in his fist, bringing your back to his chest. That new angle almost sent you over the edge again. “Holy shit, this feels amazing,” you breathed out. You didn’t notice the look Rafael and Sonny exchanged. You sloppily kept stroking Rafael, while Sonny’s hand found its way to your clit. Mike had to hold you close to him as a third orgasm arrived.

Nick was still laying on the bed, an arm under his head. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s like my very own porn movie,”

“Get ready to take a new part in it,” Sonny winked at him.

“Working on it,” he said, stroking his semi hard cock.

Sonny chuckled before burying his face in your chest. He sucked on your nipples, and kept playing with your clit. “Jesus, fuck! I--I’m--coming,” you managed to say as your third orgasm hit. You held onto Sonny’s shoulder for dear life, Mike was slamming so hard and fast inside you, chasing his own orgasm. He bit your shoulder as he emptied himself deep inside you, adding his semence to Sonny’s and Nick’s.

You collapsed in Sonny’s arms and he gently laid you on the bed, next to Nick. Mike was catching his breath on the edge of the bed. “Water,” you managed to say.

Not that it mattered, but Nick seems to be the best for the aftercare. He gently stroked your hair, and planted sweet kisses all over your face. Sonny came back with water for everyone. All of this is more than amazing, this can’t be compared to anything you ever experienced before but you gladly enjoyed the water break.

As you were sitting on the bed, Rafael grabbed your face to kiss you. It was soft, almost loving. Your hands traveled his hairy chest as you granted access to his tongue. You fell on your back, taking him with you. “You okay?” he whispered.

“Never better. Fuck me, Raf,”

On the other side of the bed, Nick chuckled. “Three cocks, three orgasms and she is still asking for it. You’re such a pretty slut, Y/N, aren't you?”

“I’m your slut. To the four of you,” you smiled at him.

Rafael teased your entrance with his cock as he was kissing and nipping your neck. Your pussy was a wet and sticky mess. The other men fucked you open, Rafael slided inside you so easily. To be honest, he wasn’t far from coming already after everything he witnessed and you wrapped him so perfectly, it was overwhelming.

You moaned loudly in his ear, your nails digging in his skull. As he thrusted into you, he couldn’t help but to slap your thigh, since he can’t reach your ass for a proper spank. But you could reach his, so you returned the favor. It took him by surprise, so did the growl he let out. “Someone likes to be spank,” Sonny commented, before duplicating your action on Rafael’s ass.

Another spank, but this time from Mike. And one from Nick. You loved having all the attention from the guys, but you have to admit that this brings something else to you. Hopefully this will be repeated before you go back to New York, but this time, this will be an orgy, instead of a gangbang.

You bit Rafael’s bottom lip, as he thrusted fast and hard inside you. “Give it to me, Raf. I need you to cum inside me, just like them,” he crashed his lips on yours, as a hand traveled between the two of you to play with your clit. You were oversensitive, and exhausted, you weren’t sure you could have a fourth orgasm before it hit you. You wrapped your arms around Rafael’s neck, “That’s right, babygirl, let it go. Cum on my cock,” he said in your ear, huskily.

That was exactly what you needed to cum one more time. Rafael’s thrusts became sloppy as he chased his relief. Finally, he added his liquid to the mixture and collapsed on you.

*****

“I have to admit, I’m so glad everyone else canceled,” you confessed, laying like a sea star on the bed. Obviously, the four men agreed with you.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” they all said at the same time.

Best fucking birthday ever.

#thatesqcrushsummerbingo #rafael barba x reader #sonny carisi x reader #nick amaro x reader #mike dodds x reader

277 notes · View notes

malachi-walker · 3 years

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Happy birthday, Mal! I love your fics, they evoke so much emotion in me and have made me cry many a time. I don't often reread fics, but i've reread multiple chapters of Rhythm and Blues because they're stuck with me so much. You capture the emotional pain of their trauma and the catharsis that comes with their growth so beautifully. You also write some brilliant meta and just consistently post some fantastic thoughts. Also your love for swords is very appreciated. <3 have a lovely day!

First of all, my apologies for not replying sooner. I was making my mind up about something that would definitely require the use of a read more and thus necessitate dragging myself to desktop (which I hate because my laptop predates the dinosaurs.)

But seriously. Thank you so much. This is honestly one of the sweetest comments I've ever gotten and definitely made my already pretty sweet bday even better.

So about that read more. In honor of you, @metalesbo, my friends @n7punk and @jem-jarrett and everyone else who sent me well wishes or just really loves my work... Here's the opening section of the next chapter of R&B. Enjoy. It's a long one.

Adora Eternia is about two months shy of her fourteenth birthday when she first realizes she's in love with her best friend.

Though--if asked--she would hasten to explain that it wasn't when she fell in love. But trying to pinpoint the exact moment is an exercise in catching mist: the more she tries to grasp it in her hands the more it spreads out and covers everything. It just is: pure and simple and very, very complicated.

It's the beginning of December and the whole town is covered in a thick blanket of snow. Winterfest will be here in a few weeks, so to help out the kids who want to get gifts for their friends the Right Zone administration has shuffled around the groups that usually take their monthly trips on the third and fourth Sundays of the month to double up with the other two. As part of group three, she and Catra got the first week (the other three members of their crew are week two folks anyway and thus outside the reorganization.)

It's still kinda weird to think that: their crew. For so long, it was just Catra and Adora. Adora and Catra. One unit bound together, just them against the world. But there's also something nice about being part of a small cluster, their "scrappy little lone wolf pack" as Catra had once put it with a wry grin before Lonnie shoved her over with an, "Excuse you, I'm a great people person when I'm not busy making sure you idiots haven't set yourselves on fire!"

They all got a good laugh out of that one.

But regardless, the holidays are coming up and this is the first year that any of their group has felt like actually doing anything for it, aside from wrangling together a sleepover and seeing if they can convince the kitchen staff to slip them some leftover eggnog.

They made each other promise not to go too extravagant and keep each person's gift to ten dollars or lower. Even though their quarterly stipend has increased from three hundred to four hundred to match with inflation over the past eight years, it still isn't a whole lot for three month's worth of expenses, especially when they also have to budget regularly for clothes to keep up with the seemingly endless growth spurts.

There's also the usual budgetary concern of keeping her and Catra's first aid kit well supplied...

Adora shakes her head to dislodge the intrusive thought and continues marching onward through the snow. This trip is a good thing. She won't let all the awful realities of their life taint it.

With so many kids running around and wanting to shop on their own to surprise their giftees, Right Zone had to negotiate with both the local police and whatever other civic authorities they could get ahold of to come out en masse and keep an eye on them all. The kids had still come with their usual teachers, of course, but doubling the load and also splitting up was a logistical nightmare. Which is just a convoluted way to say the town is positively crawling with uniformed officers, off duty members of the fire brigade, emergency personnel, and other such authority figures quietly keeping watch and making sure no one tries anything.

Adora knows that somewhere in the press of bodies, Grizzlor's busy wrangling two new "brats" (seven and nine, respectively, and definitely not friends.) Somewhere, a certain Magicat is probably grumbling over the indignity of being forced to wear shoes and kicking every snowpile she can, like she can send a direct message to whatever cosmic force is responsible for her current frustration.

On an ordinary month she and Catra--being old enough to be allowed a bit more freedom to do what they want--would buddy up to watch each other's backs while they did their shopping. But this isn't an ordinary month, so once they'd each gotten gifts for the other three they'd split up on opposite ends of Main Street with an agreement to move clockwise to avoid running into each other. Afterwards, the entire group would rendezvous at the small clock tower in the park a block over before heading back to Right Zone.

Ten dollars wasn't a lot to work with, but Adora had done her best: a new stress ball for Kyle, some moisturizing oil for Rogelio since the early winter shed had wiped out his supply and he'd been too busy to pick up some more, a twelve pound kettle weight for Lonnie now that their shared exercise routine was getting a bit too easy for her... Utilitarian choices, to be sure, but she's been paying attention and that has to count for something.

Catra's the difficult one, of course. Partly because Adora doesn't want to just get her something practical, but also because they share nearly everything between them already. About the only thing that is definitively off limits is Catra's guitar, and she's told Adora enough about her time with Tao over the years that Adora wouldn't even ask. Beyond that... Well, there's a reason why most of Adora's day off hoodies have small strands of orange fur stuck to them.

Still. I want to get her something that's hers. Something she'll like. Something she doesn't have to share with anyone, not even me.

In the end, she nearly walks past it. In one of the artisanal shops that dot small towns like liver spots, she finds a display of hand stamped necklace pendants, with a design sheet beside it. There are a lot of the usual nature designs and such, but the one that catches her eye is a treble clef with the five staff lines bleeding out from it. They ring the edge of the pendant in a half circle, and scattered haphazardly along the lines are the other music notes.

The lack of proper order would drive Adora insane. She understands that it's just meant to look pretty, not be an accurate representation of musical notation, but still... She knows her own (broken) brain well enough to know that.

It suits Catra, though.

"Hey," Mismatched eyes looked down at Adora as her head draped backwards over the back of their desk chair, the throbbing behind her left eye threatening to escalate into a migraine. "Guess I don't have to ask how the composing's going."

"It sucks," Adora groused back, sitting up and gesturing Catra over. She jabbed at two particular spots with the half chewed off eraser end of her pencil, two hard jabs each, like she was filing a complaint. "Most of it is just what I'm going for, but these two places here... They aren't sounding right. I've been going back and forth over structure all afternoon, but nothing I do helps."

"Hmmm..." Catra stroked her chin and nudged Adora over so she could sit on the arm of the chair (they'd never gotten around to requesting a second, mostly because Adora didn't want to risk Shadow Weaver suspecting they were getting too chummy.) "Got any scratch paper?"

Adora pointed to the pile of half crumpled notebook paper she used when making adjustments and Catra snorted. "Ok, dumb question. Just let me see here..."

Grabbing a pen, she quickly inked a fresh set of staff lines and copied the notes Adora had already put down, making sure to leave space to work. Glancing between the two, she drummed her fingers on the desk, playing along in her head.

"Hmm..." Catra murmured, worrying at her lower lip with a fang in a manner that was... Oddly distracting. "Ok, how 'bout this?"

Adora jolted, tearing her gaze from Catra's face to look at the sequence of notes scribbled onto the scratch paper. She paused, brow furrowing as she played them over in her mind's eye. It was a little unorthodox, veering away from the path she had carefully laid out... But also blending well with the next part. Almost like the notes took a quick detour and then lead the listener back to where she wanted them.

"Yeah..." Adora replied thoughtfully, the tension all over her body starting to smooth out. "Yeah, that could work."

"Awesome. Let's take a look at the next part."

They ultimately ended up spending several hours going over the entire piece, sussing out every place where Adora was having even the slightest niggle of unease. She didn't accept all of Catra's changes and Catra didn't push the matter, but the ones she did...

They felt right. More right than they had ever felt when it was just Adora running circles around herself.

When they finally finished up she looked over at Catra, tail waving sedately in that way it got when she was simultaneously engaged but relaxed, and asked, "Umm... Do you want to learn with me? I like doing this."

'I like making music with you.'

Catra paused, looking over at Adora searchingly, almost like she couldn't believe the question had come up. No matter how many years had passed between them, that look never really went away, and every time she saw it Adora's chest ached in a way that was hard for her to process.

"I'd like that."

Catra's composing style is very different from Adora's. More wild, more willing to bend and break the rules if it means maintaining audience engagement, but there's always an underlying order to the chaos. To her surprise and pleasure, Adora found herself learning just as much from Catra as Catra was learning from her. Their styles brought out the best in each other.

The jingle of a bell kicks her out of the memory. Mind made up even though it's nearly double her budget, Adora scans the stand of necklaces for the one with the treble clef pattern.

It isn't there. Adora swallows down the disappointment, though she can't help the sigh. Of course. The town was well aware of the large population of music students a short drive away and catered to them accordingly. But there are also dozens of kids out on the street tonight. It isn't that big of a surprise that the design sold out.

Not surprising, but disheartening nonetheless.

She's just begun to turn away when a voice calls from the back. "Hang on a sec there, little miss."

Adora jumps, but remains where she is as a large Taurian man with a massive snow white beard trundles out from a door behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. "Was there a particular design you were interested in?"

Adora points at the treble clef, hope rising. "This one. But it looks like it's already sold out."

"Hmm..." The man scratchs at his chin. "Well with Winterfest coming up, I'm out of blank pendants-"

Adora's shoulders slump.

"-But," The man continues with a smile. "I can double stamp it onto the back of another. Ordinarily I'd charge extra for that, but it's my fault for not ordering enough blanks. Rookie move. Besides, it's the holidays. Now would that be all right by you?"

Nodding frantically in case he changes his mind, Adora scans the other designs, quickly alighting on one in particular. "That one!"

"The claw marks? Bit of an odd combination, but the customer is always right," The old man winked as he reached out to take the necklace from her. "My jig and press is in the corner over here if you wanna watch."

Adora was glad he specified, because as nice as the man seemed there was no way in hell she was going into a back room with a stranger. But she stood next to the window beside a display of miscellaneous knick knacks and puzzles, watching him carefully place the pendant in a cushioned stand to avoid damaging the already printed side and tighten it into place before moving beside the machine.

"You're gonna want to cover your ears," He tells her, patting the machine with one massive hand. "Had to switch to a steam press when the arthritis caught up to me. Used to do it all by hammer. This boy's okay, but he gets loud."

Adora nods, glad for the warning when he bellows "Clear!" and the machine's hammer comes down once, twice, three times with a sound like the ringing of an enormous bell. Once the machine is stopped and carefully turned off, the old man removes the pendant from the press and hands it over to Adora for inspection. "What do you think? Does it pass muster?"

Adora runs her fingertips over the impressions in the metal, memorizing the feel of it, the leftover warmth of the impact. "Perfect."

"Good. Now let's get you rung up."

Counting the five dollars she attempted to surreptitiously slip into the tip jar (the old man winked as he turned back around, so stealth fail) Adora went very over budget, but the others would have to put a gun to her head for her to admit it.

Besides, it's Catra. They already know she's the sole exception to all of Adora's carefully maintained rules.

With everything finished, she continues trudging through the snow toward the park, breathing a sign of relief as she moves away from the shopping district and the people thin out; no one wanting to go to the park in the middle of such bleak weather. Angling around a clustered group of bare trees, she spots the small clock tower in the distance, as well as the figure already standing beside it. Grinning, Adora picks up the pace a bit until she can see Catra clearly and--

Her breath catches.

Since her only experience with this kind of thing has been through books, Adora always expected this moment would be more dramatic. Like back to back in the middle of a fight, or eyes locking from up on stage. Something spectacular, like fireworks, lime explosions, like the feeling of playing a song without a single mistake for the first time. It's always seemed like such a big deal in the stories, and in a way, it is.

Because there's Catra, lost in her own world as she gazes up at the streetlight that's just come on, her left hand extended to let the snowflakes fall into her palm and the light catches the orange of her fur just right to make a blaze of color against the black of her coat. She looks so small, standing in that space all alone on a cold winter's night, but Adora knows deep down that she could never be that small, not when she's Catra, not when she means so much...

Pretty much everything about the past hour--about her entire life since they met if she's being honest--snaps into crystal clear focus.

Oh. I get it now. I'm in love with you.

It's a bad idea. Adora knows that. Shadow Weaver is enough of a menace while believing Catra is simply her roommate, her sometime tool--and Catra had ended up being all too right about the torture not stopping, even after years of Adora trying to direct Weaver's attentions away from her. If the evil old bitch figures out Adora's feelings run deeper, so much deeper...

Her heart beats double time. This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.

But it's still the best worst thing that's ever happened to her.

She must make a noise, because Catra's ear twitches in her direction, snapping her out of that distant contemplation. She turns her head and looks at Adora, lips curling in a lopsided grin. "Hey, Adora. Wow, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Adora blinks, coming back to herself and mumbling the first excuse that springs to mind. "... Just cold."

"Well no shit. C'mere."

When she closes the distance Catra glances around warily, making sure they're the only ones around, before reaching up and retying the scarf around Adora's neck, patting it once when she's done. "There. I know I make it look good, but you don't have the advantage of fur like me."

Adora looks down at the thin AC/DC t-shirt that Catra's wearing beneath her half open coat, the line of her collarbones and neck, and makes a snap decision. "Is it okay if I give you your present now?"

Catra blinks, a little thrown by the non sequitur. "I mean... Sure? Do you want me to give you yours?"

"I'm good with either," Adora shrugs, trying to ignore how fast her heart is beating, how much she wants to do this before this moment slips away. "I just want to."

There's a long moment of silence as they each examine the other, equally searching. What Catra's looking for, Adora doesn't know. She isn't sure she wants to know.

"Okay."

Breathing deep, Adora reaches into her pocket and pulls out the necklace on its leather cord. Careful to keep the pendant hidden in her hand, she passes it over, fingertips sparking as it's taken. Catra brings it close to her face, running her fingers over the four parallel slashes on the side facing her.

"Why the claw marks?"

Adora laughs, nervous butterflies positively rioting in her stomach. "Because you're a badass. Duh."

"True," Catra smirks, flipping it over and squinting at the other side. "And this?"

"Badass, loves music with all your heart. Not mutually exclusive concepts," Adora says, trying not to give away how much she thinks about this, how much she wants to take that hand in hers. She settles for a playful shoulder bump instead. "Plus we all know you're secretly a big softie."

"Excuse you, I am all sharp edges," Catra giggles, lightly elbowing her before transitioning into a soft little smile. "... Just not with everyone."

Oh God oh God oh God. That smile will absolutely be the death of her.

Swallowing past her horrible awareness of that softness, Adora asks, "So you like it?"

"I love it. Good luck ever getting me to take it off," Catra laughs, then frowns, flexing her fingers. "Hands have gone a little numb, though. Help me put it on?"

Adora.exe promptly crashes to desktop. But she still somehow manages to move, helping Catra hold back her mane so she can slip the leather cord over her head and tuck it beneath her hair. If she hesitates a moment too long in letting go, at least Catra only shoots her an amused glance. "How's it look?"

"Great," Adora manages to croak out, trying to swallow past the sudden dryness in her throat. "You look great. Umm... Happy early Winterfest, I guess?"

"Well, I'm gonna hold onto yours a little longer," Catra laughs, playfully sticking out her tongue before reaching out. "C'mere, you big dork."

Adora shuffles closer, mind and heart both screaming as Catra draws her into a hug, nuzzling her head against the side of her neck. A little whisper. "Thank you."

Adora swallows again, even harder. "You're welcome."

Between them, the necklace rests, the music side pressed right up against Catra's heart.

----------

Fun fact: the shopkeep is based off a cool old dude selling machine pressed necklaces I ran into at a Scottish festival when I was 13, and he made such an impression I never forgot him. Anyway, happy Valentine's! Have a Big Gay Realization!

#answers #rhythm & blues #the catradora rockstar au #featuring adora's big gay realization #and also fantasy christmas

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mira--mira · 3 years

Note

Question from an aspiring writer:

How do you stay motivated on one project for such a long time?

I personally have the attention span of a goldfish, and whenever I have an idea I either have to write down everything my brain can spew immediately or have it be lost in the void for eternity.

Never mind going back and turning my outline into a fic or gasp editing.

Do you have any tips and/or tricks you use?

Ok, I got completely carried away with this just fyi, but hopefully I ended up answering your actual question 😂 tl;dr at the bottom.

To be honest, staying motivated is a tricky thing, one that I feel I'm still learning how to do even now and varies a bit between shortfics/oneshots and multi-chaptered fics/longfics. For a bit of background, I've been writing fanfic for about a year and a half, but I've been writing original fiction since I was seven, over a decade and a half, and I still wrestle with it. It's definitely a learning process.

One thing I wish someone would have told me when I was starting out was the power of ~scenes~ in either multi-chapters or one-shots. All writing is ultimately made up of scenes, but if you're struggling to put things together, focusing on an individual scene, or multiple short scenes, might help you focus on getting something completed, and it's something that eventually can be applied to longer works as well. Writing has been a snowball process for me and once I started getting anything completed, I felt more secure in knowing what I could write comfortably and what was out of my comfort zone, eventually getting to the point where I felt comfortable tackling bigger and longer projects and knowing I could stay with them.

OoT's interlude chapters and the snippet series are both good examples of scenes because I wrote them with that intention...even if most of them are actually two or three scenes combined. "Gai meets Hashirama and Madara", "Hashirama gets revenge on Kakashi", "Tatsuki and Hashirama pick flowers for Madara, then give them to him" etc. were all my starting points.

If you're first starting out and feel comfortable with outlines of some sort before you start writing I would encourage you to try and write down a bullet point list of your scene(s) and what you know you want to happen in it.

"Gai meets Hashirama and Madara"

* Hashirama meets Gai first, mistakes him for Lee.

* Madara is shopping for a gift for Hashirama

* Madara finds Gai and Hashirama, they spar, Gai kicks his ass, both of them love him.

This is how my initial outline looked for the first interlude chapter, technically each one of these "points" are their own scenes stuck together. Outlining is different for everyone, some people like super specific points, others even less detail than this. For me this is a nice middle that gives me a roadmap for the chapter, but allows plenty of room to naturally diverge and add detail. Play around with outlines and see what you're comfortable with/what gives you the best results.

I'm not sure of your individual situation, but if you're struggling to put together fics in general something like this might help. Doing this process again and again personally helps me stay on track and gives me a sense of progress.

This sense of progress is ultimately key and why I think motivation differs slightly between one-shots/short fics and longfics. If you confine the individual scene to a one-shot, that might give you the motivation to complete it. Even if you start writing and you get interrupted/can't finish having in one setting, bullet points sometimes help inspire me to finish because I'm not starting from scratch when I return to writing. The whole "eat an elephant one piece at a time" thing was difficult for me to learn, but ultimately proved true. Learning to chip away at something bit by bit is going to be the only (healthy) way to write longer projects you can't complete in one sitting.

For longer projects, it's a similar beast just on bigger levels and with an added dimension. I would actually suggest something similar to OoT for a starting project because it is ultimately broken up into arcs that you know and can reference, instead of making a lot of og content for a fan setting. Maybe not go into it thinking, 'I'll do a complete rewrite' but once you feel like you're ready for a longer project 30K+ or so, the rough outline method and the ability to follow arcs was what got me started when I eventually decided to make the fic multi-chaptered. Try writing one arc and keep yourself contained in that. Now the added dimension aspect in general for longfics is that you eventually want to plot individual chapters in a multi-chaptered longfic and individual arcs (character, plot, etc). This comes with practice. I honestly don't think there's a way to get around that. It's something that I'm still trying to work on and I can look back at my early work and see how I've improved, how I can recognize where things didn't go well in certain places, and how I would change them if I was writing today. That's a good thing to be able to do, it means you've grown! The other thing I find that helps with staying motivated week after week for longer projects is to roughly know where you're going and to try to be excited about a plot point/scene/chapter/etc that you're going to write. Really try to hype yourself up. For me, it's a moment that comes at the very end of the chunin arc and I start grinning even thinking about it because I know it's going to be awesome. It's always what gets me through the rough days, imagining the moment I'll get to actually write that scene in its entirety (it's definitely already outlined and I mentally play it out at least twice a week lol) and is a big motivating drive.

So far I think this is pretty standard stuff if you're an outliner and you've been writing for a few years, but the other thing motivational-wise for me is having a schedule. From reading this message alone, I would not suggest it for you right away. Get comfortable finishing small things and feeling confident that if you let an idea sit for a week or two, you can pick it back up and continue. But if you eventually dip your toes into longfics (and don't plan to pre-write everything before you publish) that routine and rhythm really helps keep me going. I've made a commitment, I've posted it online, I'm going to stick to it. No one is going to jump down my throat if I fail to keep it (this is still a hobby and having fun is the most important thing) but in my mind I should commit to it unless something irl prevents me from doing so. Don't put a tight deadline on yourself, I'd start with once a month or if you write shorter chapters every three weeks. This also would help you build up and get a readership, interaction being another big motivational key.

Also, it's important to accept that sometimes you bite off more than you can chew, and when you feel completely demotivated from a fanfic project...it's okay to drop it. It's okay to take a step back and work on something else. Maybe you'll come back to it, maybe you won't. If you can, try to pinpoint what it was about that project that made you demotivated, were you pushing yourself too much and you got burnt out, was it an ongoing series and your interest for canon lagged and so did the fic, was it just too stressful to keep juggling plotpoints, etc. and keep that in mind moving forward. Every experience can be a learning one and eventually make you a better writer that can eventually tackle those bigger projects. Don't be afraid to take on big aspirational projects, but don't walk into them blind either. Above all, and this is repeated a lot because it's true, enjoy what you write. Some days you might not. That's true with anything, but any project you take on the good should outweigh the bad.

This is my wrap up of the motivational section but I also wanted to throw my two-cents in about editing because "oh no editing" is a perspective I've seen from a lot of writers, and used to have myself, but I think is going to stifle your progress in the long run.

Here's the thing: you need to look forward to editing.

You don't have to be jumping for joy, but editing, imo, should be a positive thing. You have all these great ideas, you made it into a fic, something you wrote, and now you get to go back and make it even better! This is a tough attitude to adopt. I'm not going to pretend otherwise. It took me a long time to unlearn the negative attitude and even then sometimes I still wish the editing was already done once I type in the last period. But I've learned to at least appreciate what editing does and I try to think to myself as I'm going through and making changes things like "wow, this suddenly became so much better. X plot point that I thought of ten pages from now is suddenly being hinted at and doesn't come out of left field. The transition points are a lot cleaner, it's not so jarring anymore. I bet the readers are going to love this little detail. Here's some foreshadowing that I hope someone picks up bc it's going to come back in like 5 chapters from now" it's hard, especially when you start, but this is something you made, and now are actively making better and that's something to celebrate.

I hope this helps anon! I know it's a lot and I'm by no means an expert but I've been doing this for more than a decade because I love it and I want to help others get into writing to! I have no problem answering any writing questions you may have if you find this helpful!

tl;dr

-motivation is slightly different between short/long fics.

-starting out, learn to outline by scenes and focus on finishing small projects and getting to a point where you feel like you can put something down and come back and pick it up again in a week. Completion is key and will help you feel satisfied/know your limits.

-long projects also can work on the scene-to-scene outline but now with individual chapters and individual arcs. It's tough to balance both but comes with practice. Bit-by-bit is key, as is having 'one moment you can't wait to write', possibly a schedule if it works for you, and reader feedback are all huge long-term motivational points.

-editing is tough but learn to look forward to it instead of dreading it.

edited: added a bit more/few typos fixed

#asks #anon #writing advice #god i hope this is understandable #long post

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sneezingpotatoes · 3 years

Text

Merry (LATE ASF) Christmas xD

Over a year late, but... You know?😂😂😂 I come baring gifts! xD Gotta keep my word no matter how long it takes lmao

Okay so I got my ex-best friend to draw Draco for me xD LOL She’s vanilla and doesn’t know about my kink so I had to kinda sneakily ask her to add the blush and stuff lmao BUT FOR THE MOST PART, this is my OC Draco xDD She did a good job with it! That’s him feeling all sickly in the story xD I might get her to draw my other OC’s too! If you want her to draw for you too or see what else she drew, her instagrams are: @ixreikoluxi and @ixreiko_luxi ((Just dont message her anything kinky LOL but she does do commissions on anime art!)) Also I tried new things in here... And there’s a lot that be happenin in this fic so hopefully it’s a good read lmao xD

ANYWAYS MERRY (LATE ASF) CHRISTMAS AND ONTO THE FIC XD I think it’s around 15k words OvO ENJOY

December 23rd

A soft murmur slips past Draco’s ears through the darkness of sleep, earning a sleepy snort and a shift on the couch from the sleeping drunkard. The murmur wasn’t loud enough to fully wake the hungover excuse of a man resting on the couch, but it did plant the seed of a weak headache into his temples from the lingering alcohol flowing through his veins.

“...co ... Draco! Wake up, please.”

The gentle shaking of his arm causes Draco to slowly stir awake. The rugged man lazily blinks a few times, trying to get his eyes to focus through the dim light on the face hovering above him. He winces as he’s greeted with a sharp churning in his stomach from his heavy alcohol consumption the past few days, cursing at the situation entirely.

“Shit. Wahtimeisit..? Wahdoyouwant?” His voice was deep and groggy from sleep, words slurred from his mind and mouth both sluggish and still trying to register and function at the thought of being awake so early.

“It’s 10 ‘till 6am. I need you to do the Christmas shopping for me while I’m at work today.” The gentleman firmly instructed. Shit. He had forgotten about that. The rugged man audibly grunted, rubbing the sleep out of his tired eyes. “I left the shopping list and some money on the table. Do not forget about it, Draco. I mean it.” His voice was strict and bold, leaving a mark on Draco’s deafened pride. The gentleman locked the door behind him and was gone before Draco could even attempt to respond.

“Could’ve at least turned off the fricken light, jeez.”

He groaned, dreading the long day of shopping he had ahead of him. Every time Reuben had asked him to go to the store for him, it was always at least a four-hour endeavor, seeing how Reuben always had items on the list that he had never heard of, and the nearest shops around his area were all unheard of and he had no idea where any of the items were. Even if he did go shopping on a regular basis, he was sure that he would still be lost in each of the supermarkets. Christmas was in two days, so that meant that everyone was out and about, doing their last-minute Christmas shopping, just as he was about to, seeing how he had waited nearly a month to even think about the list. Yeah, Reuben had warned him about this multiple times, that’s why he had made the list ahead of time, but Draco didn’t care. Well, he didn’t care until now. The rugged man cursed to himself just thinking about the long shopping list and having to deal with crowds of people. Why did he have to do all the damn shopping, anyway? ‘It’s not like you do anything all day, anyway. You just lay around or go to the bar and get drunk. The least you could do is help out around here and go to the grocery store.’ He could hear Reuben’s nagging voice already engraved into his memory. They’ve had this conversation once before, and Draco hated to be reminded of it. He sighs, shoving away the memory and slamming his eyes shut, trying to return to the peaceful slumber that he had been rudely awoken from.

4 hours felt like minutes according to Draco as he was rudely pulled out of sleep by warm licks to the tip of his nose. At first, he shoves the clever feline back away from his torso and rubs his freshly licked nose, sluggishly trying to go back to sleep. Absinthe returns a couple of seconds later, gently sitting on his chest with a soft ‘meowrr’ that makes the rugged man bat an eye at the creature.

“Jesus Christ, cut it out, will ya!?” The man grunted, remembering that he was supposed to feed the feline two hours ago, and that he probably wouldn’t hear the end of it with Reuben when he got home. She speaks again, hopping onto the floor and stretching outward near her food bowl. “Alright, alright already. Shaash, I’m goin’.”

Brain still foggy from sleep, the rugged man brought himself to his feet, releasing a loud, well-needed yawn that forced his jaw to slack all the way open as he headed into the kitchen, feeling the patient feline watching his every move. He takes the can of cat food from the cabinet and sluggishly places the food in the bowl, having Absinthe instantly begin to eat the protein packed meal.

“You’re welcome, little bastard.” He mumbled as he watched the feline scarf down the mushy substance, gliding a gentle hand behind her ears. “Must be good, huh?” It was odd. Draco normally judged Reuben for speaking to his feline like an actual person, but it was actually quite soothing to say the least, as it brought a wry smirk to his face. Obviously, he wasn’t going to tell Reuben that. The black cat abruptly stopped eating and peeked her head at the man crouched directly behind her, purring when he rubbed the right spot. He gave her one last rub before getting up to grab a change of clothes.

He called an Uber after taking a decently long, hot shower and eating a slice of cold, leftover pizza from the fridge for breakfast. Reuben was the only person with a car around here and he had taken it to work today, so he felt that an Uber would be the better option at least. The rugged man scoops the money from on the table into his pocket, grabs the shopping list and heads outside into the freezing winter air.

***

The sky was a nice dark gray, not doing the sun any favors with providing any warmth or sunlight really. There was a cold, gentle breeze that would occasionally brush through his dark black bangs and hug his neck and chest, forcing him to pull up his short jacket collar as much as he could in order to shield himself from at least some of the coldness. This would be one of the moments that he missed his trench coat and fedora the most. Reuben had made him throw the old things out entirely and get a completely new wardrobe about a week after he had moved in. He couldn’t complain; he didn’t much care about having to wear new clothes, he just wanted to keep his fedora and trench coat if anything. The sound of car tires sloshing in a puddle of rainwater catches his attention as it appears to be his Uber driver. The driver waves at his direction, beckoning him to come over.

“So, where we headed?” The uber driver asked as Draco entered the back seat.

“Just to the local shopping center up ahead. I put the damn address in the app, why are you asking me? Do your damn job.” He muttered, eyeing the long list in his hand. He’s sure that the driver said something back to him, but he wasn’t listening; He was already in a bad mood and had to prepare himself for the long endeavor ahead of him.

The closer they got to the shopping center, the more Draco started to get annoyed. There were so many cars in the street, driving slow for what Draco thought was both to look at all of the Christmas lights and decorations hanging up on all of the lamp posts and just from the amount of people in the area period. There were so many people walking on the sidewalks with their families, friends, partners and just some walking solo; He was kind of glad that he hadn’t driven here himself. It would be hell to find a parking spot anywhere, and just hell to get out of here. He grunts to himself, noticing a few people wearing face masks that were walking along the sidewalks as well. He had forgotten that this was the perfect weather and season for people to get sick. It was probably the perfect place to get sick too, seeing how there were just so many people brushing up against one another, touching all sorts of the same products and just overall breathing the same air in general. The driver pulled over in what seemed to be the middle of the shopping center, having a giant Christmas tree on display to his left with so many bright lights and Christmas ornaments dangling from all of the branches. That seemed to be the hot spot of the entire center, seeing how there seemed to be a ton of families crowded around the tree, whether they were taking pictures in front of it, sitting and chatting, or just hanging out around the area. He paid the uber driver and exited the vehicle, instantly starting to make his way towards the nearest supermarket so that he could get out of this mess as quickly as possible.

Draco was hit with a little bit of relief when he entered the store, feeling the heat instantly wash over him as he grabbed his handheld shopping basket. It was short lived though as he saw how long the checkout lines were, and how many people were still shopping down every isle in the store. He briefly sighed, shoving all of his aggravation aside. He knew that he wasn’t going to get anything done fast if he just kept moping about the situation.

It took about an hour of roaming down every isle a few times, bumping into and being bumped into a good handful of times and scanning over the shopping list at least 30 times before Draco was sure that he had gotten a good selection of items off of the list and made the executive decision to check out. It didn’t matter which line he chose; each line was so long that it was stretching into an actual isle, causing multiple people to have to cut through every once in a while, just to get to the other side of the store. He picks the closest line to him and decides to start waiting now rather than later. Why does everybody have to be out shopping right now anyway? He thought to himself, feeling his arms starting to grow tired from carrying the heavy basket for so long.

It wasn’t long before other shoppers began to slowly file in behind him, causing him to feel slightly uneasy from how close they had to stand in order to be out of the way of other shoppers. What made matters worse was that the person behind him sounded like he was under the weather and Draco didn’t want to be anywhere near it. The thick sniffling that was heard from behind him made Draco internally groan. Damn it, he hated this so much. The regret was really starting to sink in now. At this moment he wished that he had went shopping right when Reuben had made the list. There’s a chesty cough from behind him that makes Draco turn his head slightly enough to see a young man sniffling helplessly into the palm of his hand. He rolls his eyes, feeling like he’s stuck in his current position. He knew that he always had an option to leave the line, but he had already waited 10 minutes and he didn’t want to be there any longer than he had to. The shuffling of feet in front of him caught his attention as he followed suit and scooted forward a couple of inches as the next customer was being serviced. There were only two customers in front of him now, and he was actually standing inside of the gap with the chip racks and soda coolers; He was nearing the light at the end of his tunnel. He knew that he could wait a couple more minutes and put up with this a little while longer. That was until…

“Hh… Ah’TSSCHiuh!!”

The loud sneeze from behind makes the rugged man flinch, feeling a gust of air and cold spray instantly hit the back of his neck. He slowly turns around completely this time, bringing a hand up to wipe where he had felt the sickly spray come in contact as he was greeted by a young man with short brown hair, sniffling and wiping his nose onto his jacket sleeve.

“Oh, come on, man! Are you freggin serious?!” Draco yells, feeling disgusted and aggravated at the stranger. The outburst causes a handful of eyes to veer over to their direction. The younger man could only give a sheepish smile in return, feeling way beyond embarrassed and nervous of what the rugged man would do.

“I, uhh… I’m sorry, man! It’s just allergies! ‘Tis the season, right?” The young man said with a pleading smile and nervous laugh, trying his best to ease the rugged man over. Allergies my ass. His voice sounded thick and strained just from that apology alone, and Draco already knew what this meant. He looked like a walking germ cell; ain’t no way that’s some goddamn allergies.

“Un-fucking-believable.” He muttered, looking at his hand in disgust. He was furious way beyond comprehension, but he didn’t want to cause a bigger scene than he had already. For this kids’ sake. The young man pulled out a pack of tissues and handed him one with a shaky hand. “Where the hell was this at before you fucking sneezed on me?!” His voice was loud with anger again as he snatched the tissue out of the man’s hand and wiped his own in disgust. The younger man quickly fumbled into the packet again to grab his own tissues as his eyelashes began to gently flutter shut.

“Ah’TSSCHiih..! Ih‘TISShiEW!!”

The cans and bottles in his handheld basket clanked against each other as the young man jerked forwards, diving into his hand full of tissues as his bangs bounced off of his clammy forehead with each itchy explosion. He would’ve crashed into the chip rack if not for the kind stranger behind him. Draco was relieved when the customer in front of him was beginning to load the belt with his items, allowing him to scoot up some again. It was short lived though, when the young man also scooted up behind him, sniffling and coughing so close in his ear it felt like he was practically shoulder to shoulder with him.

Finally, after a few more minutes of waiting, it was Draco’s turn to quickly checkout and instantly leave the store. The cold air greeted Draco once again, but he didn’t care this time. He was just happy to get out of that store and separate himself from that walking germ infestation. His arms were already starting to get tired even though he had two more stores to visit; He just wanted to go home honestly and take another hot shower to cleanse himself. It was about a ten-minute walk to get to the next store on his list. The fresh air was really nice, but it was awfully cold and starting to loosen up his sinuses. He had to sniffle every few seconds just to try and prevent his nose from leaking onto his numb upper lip.

His second shopping experience was pretty similar to the last store, minus the disgusting event, but the process went by faster than he had thought it would, and for that he was grateful. He peered down at the shopping list once again, having a wave of relief brush over him from seeing the small handful of items that he had left to get: Cranberry sauce, Asparagus, wait… Proscouittio? What the hell was a proscouittio? The rugged man sat down on the nearest bench, allowing his arms to rest by setting down all of his grocery bags onto the cold concrete as he pulled out his cellphone and dialed up the pediatrician.

“Hello? Draco?” The smooth and concerned voice of the gentleman was heard on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, it’s me. What the hell is a pro… scouittio?” The rugged man asked, voice still coated with irritation from having to be out shopping. He snuffled twice into a curled knuckle, giving the underside of his nose a quick wipe after feeling a faint burning at the back of his sinuses from the cold air. A light chuckle is heard on the other end from the gentleman.

“It’s prosciutto, not proscouittio.” Reuben corrected through a light snicker. Draco snarled, irritably bringing his phone closer to his mouth.

“If you’re going to laugh and make fun of me, so help me God I swear I’ll hang up right fucking now and blow this money at the nearest bar in sight.” His voice was dry and grim, causing Reuben to stop his chuckling instantly. The rugged man snuffled thickly again, lifting up his arm to briefly rub his leaky nose along his jacket sleeve this time.

“Okay, okay, calm down. There’s no reason to get all riled up.” Reuben’s voice had a naturally childish glee to it today that forced Draco to ease up a little, even if he didn’t want to. “It’s a thinly sliced ham. Very delicious. You can find it at Scardello deli a little way east of the Shopping Center. Oh, and Draco, make sure you’re reading all of the ingredients carefully. My parents are coming over and it has to be correct.” It was hard to pay attention to Reuben, seeing how his nose would not stop running no matter how many times he wiped at it. He had to keep sniffling to himself in order to barely keep the leakage at bay. He audibly sighs, as he felt his inner nostrils begin to tingle from the cold air just enough to make his chest bounce with a muted hitch. “—And a block of Gruyère cheese from the deli too, please.” There was a moment of silence before Reuben realized that he had been talking to himself for the past few seconds. Another muted hitch escapes from Draco as his nose and lips began to quiver uncomfortably from the subtle itch.

“Hehh…” He could feel his eyelids start to droop closed and his shoulders begin to rise from the third inhale that was audible this time and forced him to bring up a shaky hand to squeeze his nostrils shut with his thumb and forefinger.

“Hello? Draco? Are you there—" The hitch only sounds like a soft grunt to Reuben as he is unable to hear clearly since Draco instantly pushed the device deep into his chest as he jerked forwards twice.

“Kxxnt… Hhuh-… Eh’GSXnt!” The first sneeze was weak and soft enough to go unnoticed, but it made the gentle tingle in his sinuses rattle, causing the second sneeze to sound a bit more agitated and loud enough to get picked up on the line.

“Oh? Bless you, Draco. Are you alright?” Reuben asked, voice clearly coated with concern. The rugged man barely caught the sentence as he brought the phone back up to his ear, sniffling a handful of times into his curled knuckle.

“Yeah, ‘s just cold as hell out here. What were you talkin’ about?” Draco muttered, massaging the bridge of his nose with chilled fingertips.

“I said I need you to pick up a block of Gruyère cheese from Scardello’s Deli for me while you’re out. I must’ve forgotten to put it on the list.”

“Jeez, I need a drink.” Draco groaned as he massaged the bridge of his nose in irritation of the new item added to his list this time.

"Tell you what: I'll pay your bar tab for all of the hassle you're going through today, even though all of this could've been avoided had you listened to me." Reuben offered, mumbling the second half of his sentence in a matter-of-fact manner. Draco didn't care though. He was sold on the 'pay your bar tab' part.

"You've got yourself a deal then."

“Good. Oh- And Draco, be safe out there. Don’t stay out in the cold for too long. Make sure you’re keeping wa--”

“Tch.” Draco instantly ended the call after he irritably smacked his lips, ignoring the pediatrician’s advice. He didn’t need to hear something he already knew and was well aware of. Reuben wasn’t his parent. He knew how to take care of himself. The rugged man quickly stood back up in a huff and headed straight for the second to last store on his list.

The next store that he needed to visit was a fresh produce store. Reuben was very picky about the ingredients that he needed. He always wanted it to be organic and to be from a certain brand, which was very annoying and very time consuming to find. If he had been lazy and just brought home a random brand of the product, he knew that he wouldn't hear the end of it from Reuben. Draco didn't know why the hell he cared so much, seeing how it all tasted the same to him anyway. What was the point? It was all food; one just costs more than the other.

The list was growing shorter though, and it only took him about half an hour to find the ingredients that he needed, and checking out was a breeze. The only place he needed to visit was Scardello's Deli. He was glad that this was his last stop though. He was growing rather hungry and decided to take this opportunity to grab him some lunch with the leftover grocery money, if he had any.

Upon approaching the Deli, his heart instantly sinks from how many people are inside of the deli, and just from seeing all the tables outside being filled as well. For a brief moment he had forgotten that it was almost Christmas and that the piles of people showing up to this Deli wouldn't be an exception. Scardello's was also a popular Italian deli, famous for their tasty, high quality ingredients; seeing this many people here on an average day wouldn't be surprising either. You'd be lucky if you didn't have to wait in a long line that extended outside of the store.

Draco quickly stepped in line, wanting to save his place before someone else had the chance to and began the waiting game for the last time. He was happy, seeing how after he was finished shopping here, he could finally go home and he also had free alcohol on his waiting list. It wasn't too bad though. He enjoyed the scent of freshly toasted bread and the savory scent of spices that were infused into the meats. This was the best experience he had today for waiting in a long line, even if he had handfuls of groceries in his hands.

After waiting for about 20 minutes in line, it was finally his turn to order and he was relieved. There was a big glass full of different types of meats on display in front of him, all looking very delicious, but he points to the specific type of prosciutto that Reuben had asked for, along with the block of Gruyère cheese. The cashier nods to the rugged man and repeats the order back to a couple of workers that were slicing meat in the back as he pressed a few buttons onto his register.

"Prosciutto di Parma. Good choice. Delicate to the tongue and sweet to the taste." The woman behind him stated as she approached the meat display and stood beside him. She held her black suitcase to her side as her long, white lab coat flapped behind her as she turned to study the rugged man standing in front of her. "Hmm... You don't look like the type to eat anything close to prosciutto... Who sent you?" She mused, chuckling to herself as she saw the confused, and now irritated glare on Draco's face. The rugged man furrowed a brow at the lady, feeling offended by her choice of words. ‘Look the type’? The hell does she mean by that?

Her long, brown hair seemed to flow vibrantly behind her back, naturally complimenting her dark, purple orbs while she looked at the display case full of meat. She was actually very beautiful in Draco's eyes; he had to force himself to shift his gaze so that he didn’t end up staring for too long.

"I gotta $62.60 for a Prosciutto Di Parma an’ a Gruyère ." The cashier stated through a heavy Italian accent that instantly snagged Draco's attention and brought him back to reality. Over $50 for just some damn meat and cheese? What has the world come to, he thought to himself.

"U-uh, yeah, and I wanna add your uhh... Italian Sub. That should be cheap enough at least." He muttered, dazed by both the woman still hovering over his shoulder and the price of the meat as he fumbled into his pockets for the leftover grocery money.

"Ey, Giuseppe, put his order on my ticket." The woman stated as she gently grabbed his hand in order to prevent him from scrambling for the lose bills in his pockets any longer. “Grazie mille amico mio.” Draco gave the woman both a confused and disapproving look in return but she brushed it off as she placed her own order on top of his.

“Nessun problema. Qualunque cosa per mia sorella!” The cashier replied with a smile as he typed away on the cash register.

"The hell d’you think you’re doing, lady? I have the money to pay, you know." Draco muttered to the woman with shattered pride after she had placed her order. The cashier had told them to stand over to the side as they began preparing their food.

"Mm-hmm. Oh I'm sure you do." She said with a flirtatious grin. Draco couldn't tell if she was joking or if she was just being sarcastic. Or both. The childish tone of her voice reminded him of Lirin a bit, and made him unintentionally release an agitated sigh. "Nobody in their right mind walks into Scardello's with pocket change."

"Listen, lady, pocket change or not: money is money. Don’t give a rats ass about how it looks." Even though she was very beautiful, her beauty didn’t seem to filter Draco’s mouth nor his personality. He could care less, really. She could’ve been Beyonce in a two piece and he still would’ve said the same thing.

"Hm. Touché." She muttered, giving the rugged man an approving nod before giving him a light punch in the shoulder. “Can you not call me lady though? Don’t you know how rude that sounds?”

"Do I look like a fuckin’ mind-reader? I don’t know your name, lady.”

“The name's Sicily." Her response came out awkward sounding as she fought to keep herself from actually socking him in the shoulder again. “Gaash, do you kiss your mother with that potty mouth?”

"Don’t you ever mention my mother ever again, you got that??" He mutters intensely, having the cashier interrupt their conversation with two bags of food in hand.

She awkwardly thanked the cashier and gave him a tip before leaving the Deli. Draco followed her outside over to a wooden bench a few steps away from the Deli as she sat down and separated the food between both of them.

"Y’know, you’re being kinda rude to the person that just bought all this food for you. Here." She said as she gave him the bag with freshly purchased food inside. "That one's yours." Draco accepted the bag in silence as she taps the bench and invites him to join her and have a seat, in which he distantly accepts. The two sit in silence for a good few minutes before Sicily decides to cut through the tension. “I didn’t catch your name earlier...” She mumbled into her sandwich before taking a bite out of it.

“... Draco, I guess...” He replied annoyed, only staring at his sandwich rather than eating it.

"Well, Mr. Draco... You’re an asshole, you know that?” She stated through a soft chuckle after hearing Draco release a loud, obviously aggravated grunt in response, “An attractive asshole, I might add. And honestly, you just have the manliest resting bitch face I’ve ever seen--”

“What the hell are you getting at here?”

“You wanna know why I paid for your meal? I just wanted to make that sour face at least a liiiittle bit sweeter, you know?” The rugged man gave a perplexed look towards the woman sitting beside him. It felt weird hearing a woman speak so openly and without a filter just like him.

“...Shut up...” Draco half-muttered after an exhausted sigh, before finally taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Too bad. I’m not a sheep. I don’t follow orders.” She mused with a dorky accent, surprisingly earning an unexpected chuckle from the rugged man. He wasn’t expecting such a resilient response. He had to admit, she was a cute, quirky, and geeky person that made his heart flutter the more he talked with the woman.

The two sat on the bench oddly enjoying each other's company and eating the delicious Italian lunch for about half an hour. Even though it was really cold outside, it didnt matter to them. It felt like Draco was genuinely having a great time with Sicily and he didn't want it to end. You might even say it was a first date at that. She seemed to be the only person that could get underneath his thick skin and actually make him chuckle, multiple times at that. Wait a minute, what was he thinking? It couldn’t have been a date. They were simply just having a decent lunch together. That was all.

The half hour feels like seconds as the time flew by, though. They had already finished their lunch and Draco knew that he needed to get back and put the groceries away. Sicily seemed like she had her own plans to get back to as well, seeing how she was the one who had cut the event short. She did feel awful about ending their moment, so she paid for his Uber and waited with him until the Uber arrived to take him home.

***

Draco had an odd, empty feeling resting in his stomach as the Uber pulled up to Reuben's home. He was glad to be home and to have all the shopping finished; It felt like a huge weight was lifted off of his shoulders, but he still missed the company of Sicily. He thanks the driver for the ride after he collected all of his belongings and started for the front door, heaving all of the groceries along with him.

Draco raises a curious brow as he sees Reuben's car in the driveway. It was out of the ordinary to see Reuben's car here at this time, because he normally didn't come home until late at night. The rugged man adjusts the bags in his hands, dismissing the fact of the car being there only to be halted by a stray dog crossing his path in the driveway.

The dog looked like a black and brown German Shepard, but it had a deep cut along its left eye and it was faintly shivering from the cold winter air. Once Draco made eye contact with the canine, it slowly sat down and wagged its tail, patiently waiting. For what, Draco had no idea. He had seen this dog before. Multiple times at that. Reuben would always chase the dog away with his shoe whenever he saw him on the porch, but Draco never understood why. The rugged man cautiously approached the injured creature with a struggling hand to scratch behind its ears and the dog instantly dropped its mouth open and let its tongue hang out, clearly enjoying the attention and feeling of affection.

"You like that, dontcha boy?" As if in response to Draco, the dog barked and hopped up to place his paws onto the rugged man’s chest, trying to lick his face. Draco chuckled at the friendly creature and gave it a hug as he couldn't resist the poor, abandoned animal. He knew how being cold, lonely and abandoned felt and how much value was in the slightest amount of affection. He wasn’t fast enough to dodge as the canine licked his cheek a few times. "Okay, okay, down boy! Get down!" He had to force the dog down, seeing how the canine was overly excited from the rugged man and his attention. "What’s your name, anyway?" He muttered, trying to find a collar or dog tag on the animal, only to find nothing. The stray dog sat in front of the rugged man with excited eyes. It was hard for Draco to look back at the poor animal, but he knew that he couldn't take him into Reuben's house. The pediatrician had mentioned that he disliked dogs with a passion; for what reason, Draco had no clue. He gave the dog one last good rub and slipped past him in order to get to the front porch. The dog only sat in place, watching the rugged man as he stood on the porch, glaring back at the stray dog with guilt. “... You know what, fuck it.” He says as he grabs a slice of the prosciutto and tosses it to the stray dog. Immediately, the dog grabs the meat and runs into the grass, tearing the meat up and swallowing it savagely like he hadn’t eaten in a while. ‘You enjoy that, little buddy.” He whispers before sliding into the house.

***

Draco released a light sigh as he was relieved to be back home and outside of the cold. Before he could enter the kitchen to set down the groceries, Reuben arose from the couch and greeted him with a cheerful grin.

"Welcome back, Draco. I assume everything went well?" The gentleman grabbed a few of the bags from the rugged man and led him into the kitchen.

"Yeah, but- wait, why are you home right now?" Draco asked, confusion coating his voice, as he sat the bags on the counter and began to take all of the items out. Reuben gives a slight chuckle as he takes the empty bag from Draco and throws it in the trash.

"I couldn't have you here while I wrapped up all the Christmas gifts, now could I?" He said, pointing at the elegant Christmas tree that now had multiple gifts resting underneath it. Draco rolled his eyes, aggravated at the fact that it would’ve been a whole lot easier if Reuben would’ve taken him to the store in the first place. “Oh, relax, would you? I thought I’d find you wearing an ear-to-ear grin from the clean slate you now have at the bar!"

"... Fine, just whatever... There better be a flask full of booze under there or you're catching fists." He falsely allowed the joke to slip off of his tongue, forgetting that he wasn't outside with Sicily anymore. Reuben doesn't mind though, and takes it as him finally getting into the Christmas spirit. "What's with the sweater?"

"Oh this old thing? You like it?” Humors Reuben as he stretches out the sweater in order to show off all the glowing Christmas lights and decorations on it. The rugged man only gives a disgusted look in disapproval at the ugly thing. "It even lights up, s-see?Ihktsh!" Reuben furrowed a confused brow as he barely caught the abrupt sneeze into a curled knuckle, feeling an overwhelming itch force entry into his sinuses and cut his shirt viewing short.

A sharp, breathy inhale was the only thing Draco heard before he looked over to see Reuben twitching forward with each rapid sneeze, catching them with the top-side of his hand. "Hih-Ktsh! Hihktsh! Hh-Hihh! Hih'KSsh! HuhISsSCH'ue!!" The power of the tickling sensation was so strong and abrupt that his lungs didn’t know how to function properly with the irritant fighting in his sinuses.

He knew the feeling of this type of tickle. It wasn’t from sickness, nor from hay fever, and his house hadn’t been dusty enough to irritate him the past few days, so it could’ve only been one other thing. A handful of muted gasps escape from the gentleman as he could feel his sensitive nose trembling in agony.

“Hh-have youhh beenn playi’gw-wihh-hih! Wid dohh-gs??” The pediatrician struggled to ask between hitching breaths as he grabbed a few tissues from off of the counter with one hand and pinched his nostrils closed with his other hand.

“Yeah, so what if I did?” Draco fired back, defensively as if the stray dog were under attack by the evil pediatrician. The gentleman only blew his nose in return, shaking his head from how intense the tickle was becoming. He instantly shuffled backwards after he blew into the handful of tissues for a second time, foolishly trying to expel the irritant as quickly as possible, only to rattle the irritant around and get hit with the full force of the tickling sensation. He coughed and fanned at the air as if doing so would remove the irritant that forced his nostrils to instantly tremble in aggravation. He could feel his body rejecting the irritant fiercely as his eyelids instantly slammed shut once again and his chest visibly bounced from the rapid, overwhelming breaths his body felt were necessary to take between each desperate sneeze he lazily caught in the handful of tissues. The sudden irritant caught both him and his body off guard as it physically tried to process what the devil Draco had brought into his presence.

“D-Dr-a’KSh!Ihktsh!! Huh’kSsh!! I-Ihssh’uehh-hih! HihH’ksh’u!!… I-Ih-hhehh-HH…” Reuben barely squinted his eyes open to share a struggling glare with Draco, trying his hardest to speak but failed miserably, getting lost in his own sea of rapid hitches. The strength of the irritant forced the pediatrician to instantly jerk forwards into the damp handful of tissues with rapid, itchy explosions.

“Hihktsh! Kshnt! IhKTSH-tsshIISsh! AlleH-Hh’Issh…! T-tIDSh’ue!! Hehh…D-dohhgs-s Hhgh-ihkssh’u! hHAH-ESsh’uekgshu! IH’KGshIEw!! Iksshu! Kgshu-IKGSshu!” The gentleman's body trembled with each sneeze as he struggled to take in a breath of air. He had foolishly tried to speak in-between the fit in vain as he had cut himself off with the rapid, tumbling sneezes.

The rugged man gives Reuben a questioning glare as he released four more tired sneezes in-between desperate nose blows and irritated coughs into his handful of tissues. He didn't know that Reuben had a dog allergy; He also hadn't played with the canine for that long either, so he was confused as to why Reuben was having such a reaction.

"I'm a-allerhh-hih... Hahh...! Ihktsh!! Hheh'kssh-ISshu! 'EDSh'ue!! Ekgsh!! IsshShishh! IGSSch'uh! Hahh... Allergigk do dogs." He congestedly tried to explain again through disruptive hitches.

Draco could see the pediatrician's pink tipped nose still twitching from the irritant lingering about as he dabbed away the allergic tears that started rolling down his cheeks with the side of his hand. He gave a sly smirk to himself, finding a hint of pleasure in seeing the arrogant pediatrician looking so vulnerable. It was nice to see Reuben knocked off of his high horse for a bit.

"Well in that case, I want a dog." Draco humored to the pediatrician as he watched him still trying to catch his unsteady breath.

"Hah’KGshn! Ihgsh! Kgsch! H-how consihhderate o-of... Ih-Kgsshn! Hh-huh... youhh." His speech was still shaky and broken from the faint hitches riddled between his words. He blows his nose once again in an attempt to blow out the irritant that had entered his nostrils, but it does nothing but dampen the tissues further in his hand.

The gentleman irritably tells Draco to finish putting away the groceries and to throw his clothes into the washer as he left the room to take some allergy medicine, already beginning to feel miserable. He also couldn’t help but give a little chuckle to himself, finding the whole situation to be quite humorous. He only wondered how bad it would be if Reuben were to actually encounter a dog in person.

The hot shower that Draco had been waiting for all day finally came and went, leaving him with a strong feeling of relief and relaxation. It felt like ten pounds had been lifted off of his shoulders, seeing how he still felt disgusting from that irritating encounter at the store. Reuben seemed to be feeling better as well, since he had stopped sneezing when he got out of the shower. He had to admit: The Christmas vibes were definitely present from both the nicely decorated Christmas tree and all of the decorations Reuben had been putting up all over the house. It was his first Christmas with the pediatrician, and it felt like it was going to be a great one at that.

December 24th

The loud clank of a pan serves as a rude awakening for the rugged man as he flinched awake from the couch. He tries to open his eyes but instantly slams them shut with a heavy wince from the blinding living room lights. A few light coughs escape from his grasp as he sluggishly wiped the sleep from his eyes. He felt groggy today. Groggier than usual. He releases a sluggish snuffle in an attempt to clear the wall of congestion that must’ve built up overnight.

“Evening, Draco.” The lanky gentleman greeted from the kitchen, adding water to a pot before placing it on the stove top. “A pleasure to see you awake. I surely thought you were going to sleep the entire day away.” The rugged man remained silent as he blindly reached for his flask from off of the coffee table and instantly began consuming the alcoholic beverage, only to choke on the burn in his throat. That was strange. He thought that he was used to the burn of a little Whiskey. “How many times have I told you to stop drinking in the morning?” The rugged man winces, trying to clear his throat of the itch and now faint burn from the alcohol.

“Mornin’ to you too, asshole.” He muttered dismissively, hearing his own voice sound a little scratchier than usual. “HhUh-TDZSSH...!! EHh’GTSZSHh’UHH!! GOD--!! Damnit!!” He barely catches the first loud sneeze into the cup of his hand, almost spilling his flask from the force of the second loud sneeze that shakes his entire core. He yells a swear, feeling the most torturous burn scrape his raw throat from the loud morning sneezes.

“Ah. Lovely.” The sarcastic tone from the gentleman earned a pained chuckle out of Draco as he struggled to choke down another swig from his flask. “I’m expecting company over soon. I’d recommend getting dressed and presentable.”

“Dressed and ‘presentable’? Screw off.” Reuben only sighed in return, not in the mood to put up with Draco’s shenanigans. A mild yawn escapes his lips as he glares at the clock resting on the stand. “3:30pm? Shit.” He mumbled as he rubbed a hand across his face in an attempt to wipe the sleep away as he got up to join the pediatrician in the kitchen. There were a lot of different foods scattered across all of the kitchen countertops with other food items cooking on the stove as well, and he was sure that he saw something baking in the oven. “Why the hell are you makin’ so much food?” Reuben abruptly stopped cutting the vegetables on the cutting board and sat his knife down in order to share a confused glare at Draco.

“Draco, my family is coming over for the Holidays, remember?” His heart instantly sank after hearing those words. He had forgotten about Reuben’s family coming to visit. He dreaded this day as well because it was going to be the most awkward day of his life, which was probably the reason he had forgotten about it in the first place. “You do remember, don’t you?”

“HhUH-EGTSsh!! Y-yeah, sure. When are dhey cobin’ a-adywayhh? IH’TIZSSCH'ugh!! Shidt.” He asked between the forceful sneezes, dismissively trying to hide the fact that he truly had forgotten about his parents coming over. The gentleman raises a concerned brow at the second pair of harsh sneezes and gives the rugged man a quick gloss-over.

“My blessings. Are you feeling well, Draco?” The pediatrician doesn’t hesitate to shove a cool palm underneath the man’s disheveled bangs and atop his clammy forehead out of his routine pediatric habit. “You look exhausted. Then again, when don’t you look exhausted?” Draco flinches and knocks away Reuben’s hand in return, before taking another swig from his flask.

“’M fine. Your snooty parents must be talking about me already.” He humored, but not really. He didn’t want to offend the gentleman, but they both knew it was obvious. Reuben brushed off his comment, not disputing it either, seeing how Draco could’ve been right. His parents were a bit snobbish and he wouldn’t be surprised if they actually were talking about him right now.

“We agreed on 4pm, but knowing my family they’ll probably be knocking on the door any minute now. That is why I’d strongly advise getting dressed.” The rugged man leaned against the countertop in silence for a moment, trying to find at least someway to get out of this pickle he was forced into.

“Why the hell do I gotta act all nice and prissy just to impress your damn parents? It ain’t like we gettin’ married.” He irritably muttered into his opened flask, dreading the evening he had to prepare for. The pediatrician took a moment to compose himself, trying not to let the stress of the day wash over him and cause him to say or do something he didn’t intend to.

“Draco, can you please just wash up and get dressed? Don’t make this difficult. You can leave for the bar right after, I don’t care, just don’t embarrass me, please?” Draco gave the man a questioning look. He hadn’t heard the pediatrician ask him to do something in this pleading tone ever. It was... different. A bit concerning.

“Whatever...” He grumbled, silently slipping out of the kitchen and leaving the pediatrician to continue cooking the feast in kitchen.

He had to admit that he was a little nervous about meeting Reuben’s family. If his family was as arrogant and uptight just like he was, it was going to be a long evening. Especially if Reuben was acting this way about his parents, something was definitely going to go down. He did seem like the type to have parents with high expectations and standards, which Draco knew that he wasn’t qualified for. Even though Reuben was how he was, he didn’t want to leave a bad impression on his family, but he couldn’t make any promises either. He knew that he was going to have to prepare himself to probably listen to his parent’s brag about how much money they make and how proud they are to have a Pediatrician as a son. He released a long sigh as he collected a some-what clean outfit, completely ignoring the pressed suit and tie that Reuben picked out for him, and headed into the bathroom.

***

Draco took his time in the shower, not wanting to leave the bathroom at all and face a room of strangers. He already started to feel slightly worse from when he had woken up, seeing how his nose had begun to leak and itch more profoundly and his throat was really becoming agitated. He could already hear a few unfamiliar voices carrying into the restroom that made him uneasy. He was a complete stranger getting dumped into a family meet and greet. He knew that he would feel out of place and like he didn’t belong but there was no way to escape. All of his guests had already arrived and were chatting up a storm in the other room. He could make out Lirin’s high pitched voice, which gave him at least a little bit of comfort, but the other few voices made him release a tense sigh. This was going to be weird, but it was better to hurry up and get this over with now.

Draco slowly opened the bathroom door, deciding that it was time to leave the steamy bathroom so that the stuffy, warm air could stop making his nose leak so damn much. He carefully peered down the hallway, instantly being greeted by unfamiliar faces. There was a man with brown hair and glasses in a dark suit, looking like an older version of Reuben just with stubbles on his chin that was having a conversation with a mature woman, looking young for her age, with long, luscious brown hair; They looked like they had professions related in business or sales.

“Speak of the devil, that must be the man of the hour! My son here’s been tellin’ me all about ya!” The man in the suit said with open arms as Draco approached the group. He instantly pulled the rugged man in for a tight hug that took the breath away from him and caused him to cough over the man’s shoulder. “Don’t be shy! We’re all family here.” After a brief moment, he finally let go and gave Draco a good look over. “You look well! Seems like you’ve made yourself right at home.” The rugged man remained silent, unsure of how to respond to the sudden change of tone from his last sentence.

“Oh, don’t mind him, honey.” The woman said as she straightened up Draco’s shirt. “Donovan’s always been such a hard-ass to all of Reuben’s new friends, haven’t you, Donny?” She said, abruptly giving Donovan a death glare. “My name’s Colette.” Before he could even reply to the woman, Donovan stepped closer to Draco with judging eyes.

“I just don’t want my son to have any bad influences or distractions. You know how it is.” Draco took an uncomfortable step backwards, feeling the tense atmosphere weighing on his shoulders. He already felt like he was being pulled in both directions from both parents. The rugged man froze, feeling like the dark glare from Reuben’s father was judging his every move and action. He curses internally, feeling his nose start to run again, knowing that he can’t do anything about it at this moment.

“Dad I’ve told you countless times, he’s not a distraction. I’ve been doing just fine even with him here.” Reuben said through an irritated sigh as he stressfully massaged the bridge of his nose. Donovan instantly approaches Reuben with a stern voice, clearly not fond of the entire situation. It seemed like none of his words were getting through to him.

“Mmm. And just how long does this Draco plan on staying here?” The rugged man forcefully took this opportunity to turn around and grab a few tissues and wipe his nose, before the leakage had the chance to become visible. A hint of relief crosses over him as he quietly blew into the tissues. It was a soft enough blow to the point where it didn’t draw any attention away from the conversation.

“Ease up, darling. It’s Christmas. We came down here to enjoy the holiday with our son and niece. Besides, Draco looks like a responsible young man. If our son says he’s fine with him being here, leave it at that.”

“Yeah, Draco is SUCH a RESPONSIBLE young man.” Lirin childishly chimed in, hugging Reuben loosely from his side. “You should see how RESPONSIBLE he is when he’s drunk.” She smirked. Draco bit his tongue, trying his best to catch himself from saying an angry remark. Just hearing her sarcasm made him clench his teeth.

“Is that so…?” The voice of a clearly intrigued and curious woman fills the room as Sicily enters the house and locks the door behind her. “We’ll have to grab a drink later.” She flashes Draco a charming wink that makes him instantly look away.

"Sicily, darling! We thought you wouldn't be able to make it! What a pleasant surprise!" Colette exclaims in surprise as she embraces the woman. “Is that alcohol I smell on your breath?”

"Mom, relax. What are you, a police officer? It’s Christmas!” Sicily’s entrance cuts through the tense atmosphere as she gives Donovan, Reuben and Lirin a hug in greeting. “Anywho, don’t be shy now, Draco, was it?” She gave the rugged man a playful nudge in his side as she pulled him over onto the couch. Draco doesn't fight her as he allows himself to be forced down onto the couch, feeling both relieved that he got snatched away from the demonic man, but also, dare he say 'happy' to see Sicily for a second time. "Some parents, huh?" She says after observing Draco's facial expressions. "I know. Dad can be quite the handful. Just make sure mom doesn't get a hold of any wine, or that could be a real shit-show." She giggled to herself as she kicked off her boots. “Last year, mom had a liiiiittle too much of the holiday nog and almost broke all of my drinking glasses. Wanna know how? She was throwing them at pops for losing 10 grand in one of his stock investments.” Another, louder giggle erupts from Sicily, earning a darted glare from Donovan towards Draco.

“Um, excuse me everyone. Dinner is almost ready, so if you all could please relocate to the dining room…” Reuben muttered, placing the dinner rolls on the table.”

***

“Honey, this looks delicious!” Colette exclaims, looking at all of the food Reuben had prepared. It did look delicious. How one man could make so many different dishes all by himself beat Draco. He did a really nice job with everything, but of course, he wasn’t going to tell Reuben that.

“Let’s dig in!!” Lirin exclaimed before instantly chowing down on her over-piled plate. She was the first to make her plate before anyone else cold even touch the food.

There were so many silverware and differently sized plates on the table and it made Draco squirm internally. It felt like he was being setup. He and Reuben both knew that he didn’t have any knowledge about dining etiquette, or any etiquette in general. Hell- he doesn’t even know the name of anything that’s on his plate! He’s sure that everything on the dining table was fancy and had a L or Lu in front of it. He wouldn’t be surprised if Reuben’s family called their glasses of water: L’agua.

The rugged man watched as all of the family members delicately picked up their proper utensils and began to elegantly cut and eat the food on their plates. It was like he was in the realm of gods and goddesses and he was the only human in sight, attempting to mimic their custom. Even Lirin somehow managed to mask her gluttony. It was hard to even think about eating, seeing how he could barely survive the coldhearted looks that Donovan was darting his way. He could tell that he was subtly watching him, waiting to see which utensil he would pick up first and judge him if he grabbed at the wrong one.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Draco?” Reuben’s mom gave him a concerned look as she noticed he hadn’t touched his plate. “Your food will get cold soon. It really is good, I promise!”

"Mom? Please." She whispered, feeling insulted. "Hey Draco, wanna blow this joint and go get some drinks? Lirin tells me you're a real drinker."

“I thought you’d never ask…” He replied with a nervous laugh, giving Reuben almost a puppy dog look of ‘please let me leave, this is my only escape.’ His parents tried to talk them out of it, but of course, Draco can’t be talked out of consuming alcohol.

***

The music being played from the piano at the back of the bar rang blissfully in their ears as they entered the bar. It wasn’t too crowded, surprisingly. A soft aroma of alcohol filled the air as the two slowly approached the counter. There was a nice Christmas tree set up near the piano that lit up the room, with a male bartender wiping out a glass behind the counter.

“How can I help you?” The man said as he tossed the towel onto his shoulder and sat the glass down onto the rack.

“Let me get two shots of Bourbon for me and my friend here please.” Sicily ordered as she took a seat on the bar stool. The bartender nodded in understanding as he grabbed a bottle and started pouring the alcohol. Draco hesitantly sat down in the stool beside the woman, still tense and a bit uncomfortable with going into a bar with the pediatrician’s sister. “Relax, I just want to loosen up and have a couple of drinks with you.” She muttered, pulling out a cigarette from the paper carton and resting it on her rose red lips. She shared a short glance with Draco before it was awkwardly broken by the rugged man pretending to clear his throat.

As the night went on, the fuzzier his head was beginning to feel. He had only had 5 shots and he could already feel himself starting to get a little more than tipsy. It was weird; Usually he could down more shots than this without feeling a buzz this early on. He could hardly think, let alone keep up with what Sicily was saying, not like what she was saying mattered, anyway. Draco was sure that she was one shot away from being completely plastered, seeing how her cheeks were flushed and her words were so slurred that it was a challenge to understand a word coming from her.

“It’s nice to let lose every once in a while, and take a break from all this classy shit.” She says, hoping to break the tension while allowing a long sigh to escape from her lips, causing a stream of gray smoke to bounce off of the counter-top and disperse into the air.

"You're tellin' me..." Draco muttered, grabbing the shot glass from the bartender and immediately scarfing it down like it were a dose a vicodine. "I could barely manage back there."

"Yeah..." Sicily distantly mutters, glaring down at the shot glass in her hand for a moment before irritably scarfing it down as well with haste.

“HhH’EGJISCH…!! ‘EGSSCHIUH!!” The rugged man dove forwards over the counter, holding his glass of whiskey away from him in vain so that hopefully it didn’t spill when he jerked forward with both of his itchy explosions. “O-oh shit! *hic*” He yelled with a breathy chuckle, finding humor from both Sicily’s laughter and the discovery of a small splash of alcohol that had spilled onto the counter from his glass. Sicily had toppled over onto the drunk man’s chest in laughter, struggling to breathe from how hard she was laughing. Draco’s own laughter abruptly stopped as the burning in his nostrils was still intense and flaring about.

“HhUH…!!” He sloppily leaned backwards with a deep inhale, barely able to stay upright from the weight of Sicily leaned so close up against him. He can feel his nostrils trembling in irritation from the burning as he slams his eyelids shut and dipped forwards again, slamming his glass onto the counter-top.

“Hhih…! Hhg’TIZSSCH’uhh! *hic* h-HUhgDzZSSCH’uhgg!!” His reflexes aren’t in tune from the alcoholic fuzziness as he is slow in turning his head away from the drunk woman. The first sneeze flies over Sicily’s head and lands on the counter-top, but he is able to partially turn his head over to the right and aim the second slurred mess of a sneeze towards the ground. Sicily shrieks in surprise from the two loud sneezes, feeling his chest tense up and shove her forwards, but she instantly smothered her chuckles into her hands as she pulled away from Draco and took a sip of alcohol from her shot glass. The rugged man brings up a sluggish, curled knuckle to lazily wipe underneath his faintly twitching nostrils, only to feel how moist and leaky they had been.

“Sh-shidt… Hheh…” He tries to cup his hand in order to lazily cover the disgusting mess on the lower half of his face, but before he can even ask for a tissue, his chest inflates quickly, forcing him to lean back once more with a disturbed grimace on his face. “

Sicily sloppily reaches into her purse, fumbling over herself as she takes out her handkerchief and shoves it into his cupped hand.

“Pineapple!” Sicily yelled abruptly, before he could even finish the oncoming sneeze.

“HhUHh’G-ghhn…?” The forceful hitch is instantly interrupted as his fuzzy and sluggish brain tried to wrap his mind around the randomness of the word pineapple. He sat there for a moment, confused, still waiting for the impending sneeze but the tingling in his sinuses had slightly died down to a quieter itch at the back of his nose.

“Ahh YEP, works everytimee.” She tiredly mused, downing her last shot of whiskey. Two hiccups escaped from her mouth once she downed her last shot and she giggled to herself before she flipped the shot glass upside down onto the counter.

“I use’to do thaht with Reuben when he’ws younger. That boy hadth’ most sensitive nose I’d ever seen. Once he start’d sneezin’ there was no goin’ back. ‘less you yell ‘pineapple!’ a’the right time. That’ll do it.” She muttered, fighting the effects of the alcohol that were trying to make her pass out on the counter-top.

"Hey... I wann' tell you somethin' an... An' you bettnot l-laugh..." The rugged man rubbed his face, feeling his mouth and tongue gradually becoming numb. It was definitely weird. He was feeling a lot of things tonight, both good and bad. He looked at Sicily with tired eyes, watching her back rise and sink with each breath she took as she rested on the counter with her head faced down in her arms. She grunted softly, as if signaling to Draco that she was still listening. "I... I r-really like you, you know tha?"

"Oh, that's nice. Me too." She muttered, giggling softly in her folded arms. At that moment, Draco's heart flew out of his chest as he struggled to sit upright.

"I'll have the ramen too. No eggs..." She weakly reached out to grab Draco's arm and shook it gently, "Please no eggs. I don't want eggs." He sighed and rolled his eyes, realizing that Sicily must've been talking in her sleep.

December 25th

“Hhg’tdsszhh! ‘Egsschh!!” The two tired sneezes were lazily stifled and released into the air as he shuffled around covered in his soft blanket in which he wore like an oversized jacket. He gently scrunches his nose around, feeling the tickle remaining at the same strength. He was lifelessly lying on the couch, too fatigued to do anything. Too exhausted to even sniff away the wetness leaking from his sore nostrils. What was the point? He had been sniffling and snuffling all night; every time he sneezed, the wetness quickly returned anyway. He was so congested to the point where it sounded like he was inhaling pudding every time he took a breath. The room was still dark, besides the random flashing lights of the elegant Christmas tree in the corner of the room. He audibly winced from the pressure pounding in his head with the pulsing of his veins. Drinking alcohol all day probably wasn't the best call, he had to admit. He felt so worn out and tired but he couldn't fall asleep; Not even the word Christmas could bring his spirits up. He snuffled lightly, too exhausted to even sniffle as hard as he needed to. His body tensed up reflexively as a shiver crept down his spine, forcing his body to quiver every once in a while. Blankets. N-need more blankets. A-and huhh-

“Draco…? Are you up?” The soft, sleepy and tender voice of Sicily cuts through his suffering as he can just barely see a thin figure slowly approaching from down the hall. She slowly made her way over to the couch and noticed the poor, sickly body lying there in pain. Her sleepy expression changes instantly to concerned when she observes the sick body closely. “Draco, you look horrible!” She exclaimed in an intense whisper, not trying to wake up the sleeping pediatrician. She held his clammy cheeks and frowned, giving them a smooth rub with her thumb to clear the sweat away. “You’re boiling! And-- Oh...”

"Ehh'hoOo! Hh-hih- HIH'gdzssh!" He can feel his cheeks start to blush a light pink as he barely realizes that he had sneezed on Sicily's neck and chest; He wanted to pull away but he was too exhausted and fever struck to do anything.

“HEH'Ssgk! ’M-m alrigh’. ‘ll jus’… Jus’ do the sleep. EEH'HooOgk! Hih'gSHUHhgk!Tiredhh…” He muttered, finding it complicated to compose the proper sentences and to communicate in general. At this point, he had partially given up stifling, forcing his sneezes to sound like a mixture of a cough and a mild yell. Sicily gave him a worried look, finding it odd to see a person so delusional and out if sorts. She was too worried to feel disgusted.

“Hey, Draco! Wake up! I ne...ed you t.. sta... Awa... Ke..!"

Draco wasn’t sure what dimension he had stumbled upon, but he couldn't hear or see Sicily anymore; He felt like he was asleep but at the same time, he wasn’t sure if he was. The blackness around him began to swirl into a spiral as if he were entering a portal, and before he could comprehend what was happening, he was back home in his old house. All the lights were off in the house but the single overhead kitchen light, which severed as a homing beacon to the rugged man. There was a tall, slender woman that stood hovering over the stove, humming an all too familiar tune.

“Mm?” The woman slowly turned around to face the rugged man as if she were moving through molasses. The crimson locks resting beneath her shoulders dangled behind her back as she gave him a pained smile. “Just in time for dinner. Have a seat.” The bags underneath her eyes were complimented with a subtle dark circle, indicating that she had been overly exhausted and worn out for days on end. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“N-no, I...” Something isn’t right. Before he could do anything, the creaking of the front door catches his attention.

“M-mom...?” His words came out sluggish and muffled, as if he were moving in a time warp. With each hesitant step he took, the world around him blurred and swashed around, colors blending and smothering each other like dye on cake batter. The single word that he spoke seemed to echo for ages and bounce off of the walls and floors with a weird reverb like they were in a mutated cave.

“You heard your mother, boy.” A dark tone from behind brings a boil to the blood flowing throughout Draco’s veins. He knew that voice all too well. “Sit like a good dog.”

“You...” He clenches his fists, feeling all of his uncontrollable anger rising to the surface.

“Draco. Draco, get up! Draco--!?” He could barely hear the screams of his mother behind him as he was too busy dashing towards the figment of his father with a bawled fist, ready for a solid punch.

“I’LL KILL YOU!! YOU FUCKING MONSTER!!!” His own battle cries begin to drown out the loud crackling of the now roaring fire engulfing the walls and flooring. The dark, bulky body in front of him kept a cool smirk on his face, even in the given situation, which angered the rugged man and the fire even more.

“Draco, stop it!! Draco--!!!” The fear-filled screams from his mother began to cut in and out, almost mutating into the worried screams of the pediatrician.“Draco!!! Stop! Wake up! Blast--, he’s not responding!” Reuben yelled as he was holding on to Draco’s arms.

“We need to get him into some cold water, NOW! Start the bath!” Sicily nodded and darted for the bathroom, immediately starting to fill the tub with the coldest water she could. "Draco, you're hallucinating! WAKE UP, DAMN IT!" There was a slight shakiness to Reuben's voice as he struggled to pin the rugged man down. He had been in situations like this before and seen it plenty of times, but something about seeing Draco in such a broken state filled the pediatrician with more than just a little worry.

“I-I’ll fucking--... Kill you... I swear it...” The rugged man exhaustedly muttered, trying to punch the air but failing, since Reuben was holding him down in place.

"Reuben, the tubs halfway full!" Sicily yelled from the bathroom. The pediatrician signals for her to come and help him drag the sick corpse into the bathroom, in which she doesn't hesitate to do.

He was a tall, heavy and sickly thing. It took them a while to get him off of the couch with him fighting the two while weakly kicking and punching at the air as if doing so would hurt his invisible enemy. You could imagine how tough it was for them to force him into the bathroom, let alone the freezing bathtub.

"Help me get his shirt and jeans off..." Reuben muttered to his sister as he forced the rugged man to sit down on the toilet lid.

"W-whahd are yhou d-doig, pervert?!" Draco yelled, eyes sluggishly tracing the room and barely staying open. "G-Gedhh... HEH'Gdzsshiew!" The sneeze sprays the pediatrician’s pajama shirt as he temporarily flinches in disgust, but he doesn't let it bother him. He's in pure focus mode, as a trained pediatrician should be. "EHHgtsshnk!! Thad's whad you ged, b-bast.. bah.. heh-"

"Don't mind him, Sicily. He'll be fine." He says, noting Sicily watching with an expression on her face that he couldn’t read, but mainly to himself to give him some sort of relief while dealing with the given situation. He bites his lip, having mixed feelings about the situation. "L-Let's get him into the tub." The two nearly shove the rugged man into the cold pool of water, causing a lot of it to be spilled onto the bathroom floor. It only takes a second of being in the freezing water for him to snap out of it and realize where he was. Reuben sighs, feeling his heart nearly beating out of its chest. He had never seen Draco in such a state before in his life, and it worried him more than any patient he ever had. “Could you use this cup and pour some cold water over him?” He says, handing Sicily the small cup. “We still need to cool his body temperature down before he overheats. I need to go ge… some water. T-towels…” Before Sicily can even say anything, Reuben darted out of the room and closed the door behind him. She knew exactly what that meant.

“I need to ge… some water. T-towels…”

She heard him repeat it in her head. The tone in his voice when he said it. The strain and slight shake towards the ending. The pause in between and after. She gripped the cup tighter in slight anger. Two loud coughs from the rugged man jolt Sicily out of her own thoughts and redirect her attention. She can’t help but give the rugged man a good gloss over. He was visibly shivering in place, causing little ripples to bang against to tub walls. He looked like a dead corpse that still managed to breathe in her eyes. His red nose didn’t even attempt to hold back the sickly fluids that dripped down onto his chin and bare chest. He was too cold and out of it to care or do anything about it. She could see a tinge of black starting to linger underneath his eyes and his cheeks looked like pieces of cotton candy against his ghostly pale skin. She dipped the cup in the water on his side until it was submerged in the water and poured it over his head. He didn’t even flinch. He was probably too dazed to even feel the cold water, she thought to herself.

“… ‘ts c-cold m-mom-mm…” He barely mutters through chattering teeth, slowly closing his eyes and leaning back into the tub. Sicily immediately drops the cup and grabs the rugged man before his back can fully sink into the tub.

“Draco! Hey-hey, you have to sit up! Look at me!” She says, voice sounding strained from pushing the rugged man forward to sit upright. Draco doesn’t respond, allowing his body to fully go limp into Sicily’s arms. Sicily grunts, barely being able to keep Draco above the water from her current position. She hunches over the bathtub, trying to find the right position to comfortably hold Draco upright, but falls forward into the cold water on top of him. She releases a heavy exhale from the abrupt submersion in cold water and immediately pulls Draco’s upper half out of the water and into her chest as if he were hugging her. The rugged man takes in an immediate deep gasp and releases a handful of wet coughs over her shoulder, shivering like a madman. The woman gives a soft smile to herself, feeling the grown mans body tremble underneath her arms. She allows her fingers to rest on his clammy back, enjoying the feeling of his body up against hers so tight and closely. She closes her eyes, feeling warm from both Draco’s body and the happiness and comfort of Draco’s embrace. It felt as if time stood still for ages as the two leaned up against each other in the tub. Draco’s body had calmed down from the event, besides the constant sniffles, and they just sat there together. Holding each other.

“S-Sicily…” Draco’s faint whisper barely cut through the thin silence.

“It’s me, Draco.” She whispered back softly, still resting her head atop of Draco’s shoulder and hugging him. The rugged man slowly pulled away and nuzzled their foreheads together. She kept her eyes closed, enjoying the company of the rugged man. She moaned softly, feeling the warmth from his forehead rub against hers. The warmth from his fever radiated off of his face against her skin, summoning a faint smirk to cross her lips. She can feel her heart race a little from the shift in the room as she feels a cold hand rake through the side of her hair. She flinches as the cold water from his hand drip down her left side. His hot breath comforts her as she smells a hint of Marlboro and leftover booze beam closer. She can feel his shaky breaths get stronger and closer as his warm lips come in contact with hers. He gives her a long peck on her soft lips, allowing her body language to convey to him if he should stop or proceed. She gasps internally, half knowing what was happening and half not. She doesn’t fight it though, and brings up a hand to trace a line down his chest as he pulls her closer and gives her two more deep kisses. He can’t help but moan as she gently pushes his head closer to hers. It was a very intimate moment, that’s for sure. If Draco had any questions, they had all been answered right now.

He slowly pulls away and nuzzles her forehead again, allowing them both to catch their breath. Sicily’s eyes were locked onto his as she seductively licked her lips, signaling that she was ready for more. He swallows down a cough as she leans up against his chest again, but this time, pushing him back and forcing him to lay his back against the curve of the tub wall. Draco is caught off guard by this action and flinches, uncertain of what she was going to do next. He can feel his heart begin to race as she starts to give him kisses on the top half of his chest. Once she reaches his neck, she rests her body on his and starts to give him pecks all over his face. She reaches his nose and gives it two pecks, feeling her insides start to get all warm and excited.

Her adrenaline was rushing all over for many different reasons. She knew about Reuben. She knew about him being gay and she knew about his sneezing fetish. She knew he had the hots for Draco way before he himself probably did. She knew that something was off when he said he needed to get some water. He couldn’t handle Draco sneezing on him or him being practically naked in the bathtub. She herself didn’t have the fetish, but she was overly curious about what was so appealing about it. She couldn’t knock it until she tried it at least; she was already in the mood to get dirty with Draco. It did give her a rush knowing that she had the man Reuben had his eyes on. She was doing things to Draco that Reuben would probably never get to do. Draco sneezing on him was probably the closest thing he would ever get.

“S-Sicily I—… Hh…” He whispered weakly, closing his eyes and slowly lifting a hand to his face. She immediately grabs his wrist and shoves it back down into the water and holds his other hand hostage under the water as well.

“I know.” She says, watching his red, glistening nose twitch above her. Another peck from Sicily occurs on top of his nose. She can feel his chest rise with another weak inhale. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind. Just sneeze.” Draco snuffles twice, giving Sicily a confused glare.

“W-waih wah?” He says, trying to lift his hand again only to have Sicily press more weight down against it and prevent him from doing so.

“You heard me.” She reaches her head up to Draco’s, using her nose to lightly rub against the moist rims of his nose to try to coax out the sneeze before he can say anything else.

“B-but I ne—” Sicily shushes him and pecks him on the lips before continuing to rub his nose in different patterns and speeds. He produces two loud snuffles, sounding both thick and wet, which creates a spark in Sicily’s eye. “W-wa- HhiH… Hih! W-wahd are y-you HiHh…. Hh-doig??” He manages to say before tilting his head back against his will, involuntarily trying to escape from the induced tickling sensation on his already sensitive nose. She reaches up to follow him, giving a subtle giggle, enjoying the chase.

“Stop fighting me and just do it already.” She says as she can feel his chest practically jumping with each stuttered inhale. Cold, clear sick coats the tip of her nose as she feels his nostrils twitching up against it. She knew that it was building up in there to the point where his nose was crying and leaking sick tears for a release.

“HhuH! …. Hh-hUh! HhIH!” She tightens the grip on his wrists in anticipation, feeling slightly aroused by it all. It was like waiting for the inevitable. A devilish smile creases her lips as she watches the rugged man’s face grimace in torment. He snuffles thickly a few times in vain, as the sick just leaked immediately back down anyway; he just accepted the fate of not being able to use his hands. He felt awkward not being able to have the freedom to cover his mouth. He wanted to turn away from her but he knew that wasn’t what she wanted. He curses mentally, feeling a little embarrassed but more irritated with the pestering itch in his sinuses.

“HIH… HHIH…! HHG’TIZGSSSSCHK’ughh!” She slams her eyes shut and flinches hard, unprepared for the sudden cold spray of sickly fluids. She wasn’t sure what position she was supposed to be in for the actual sneeze. She was too intrigued by the satisfaction of him suffering with his nose to think that far ahead. But this was something… new. “H-HUhgDzZSSSGCCH’kguhgg!! ‘HEEHGSSZCHH’uhh!!!” The second batch of mist sprays her face and she can feel glops of sick make contact with her face and chest that start to slowly drip down. At first she’s disgusted, but she is oddly satisfied in a way. The third sneeze hits her back-to-back with a new batch of wetness, and by this point, she feels like she’s being rewarded for her good deeds. A subtle moan is released, more to herself as she realizes that she liked it more than she thought she would. “Eh… HehhgKSSZCHHh’kt!!” She squirms, feeling a rush when his body jerks underneath her from the harsh coughs that follow; the rattling coughs remind him of how much he feels like a pile of crap all over again. Sick was all over both of them and he knew it. It was hard not to hide all of it, especially since he didn’t have his hands to cover or wipe away at it, and his nose was practically drooling over her nose tickling his. There was bound to be a lost of discharge. He can feel his cheeks start to flush a dark red from embarrassment as he tries so hard to sniff everything away. All he wanted to do was get out of the bath and hide on the couch. “S-sorry.” He mutters between sniffles and nose twitches, feeling slightly guilty as he tried to clean himself up without his hands.

“Thanks.” She says, kissing his now sick coated lips and giving him a smile. “Now I know.” Draco pauses for a moment, surprised at what he was hearing. Was he still hallucinating from the fever?

“Huh..??” He says, overly congested, trying to clean himself up with the bath water now that his hands are free.

“Now I know that you are the one… And this secret stays between us.” She said with a final kiss before getting out of the tub. The whole time she dried herself and left the room, Draco was still sitting there dumbfounded, overly confused about everything. He didn’t know how to feel. He was happy that he pretty much made out with his newfound crush, but… What the hell just happened??? Was any of this real..? N-no… It couldn’t have been…

“… I need to go the fuck to sleep…” He muttered before sinking into the tub again

***

“Reuben, I don’t care! I wanna open gifts now!” A loud, high-pitched voice rings the ears of Draco and causes him to stir awake against his will. “We’ve waited long enough! It’ll be New Years if we wait for him to get up!”

The rugged man sluggishly cracked open an eyelid to be blinded by the Christmas lights from the tree and the fire in the fireplace. Someone must’ve moved me back onto the couch… What the fuck… Immediately he feels his nose start to run like a faucet as he tries to sit up on the couch. He grimaces when his body aches and finds it a challenge to even sit upright. He sniffles a few times, trying to stop the leakage but it does nothing but make the sick dance around in his nostrils before returning back to the same spot it was in before so he just gives up and lets it stay there, too fatigued to attempt to blow his nose or wipe it. His heart skips a beat as he notices Sicily lying on the floor right beside the couch.

“Look who’s awake!” The pediatrician says, relieved to see him up and at ‘em. “Did we wake you?” Draco only sniffles in return, feeling grumpy and too sick to respond. He just wanted it to end. And by it, he means everything. This damn cold, flu, whatever the hell that kid gave him, Christmas, this day, pretty much EVERYTHING. Just leave him alone. “You should go back to bed and get some rest if you still aren’t feeling that well, Draco.”

“I wahs tryig do before your loud ass woge be ubp!” He yelled congestedly, coughing into the blanket right after. He winces, feeling his entire body feeling sore; inside and out. It felt like his whole body would break if he coughed or sneezed again.

“Okay, okay! Everybody calm down.” Reuben says, looking more towards Lirin as she raised a fist to him. “Don’t get too riled up, Draco. Your body is still recovering.” The rugged man leans back into the couch feeling defeated and overtaken by pain. He just wanted someone to put him out of his misery.

“I… I deed sobe paid bedicinde.” He mumbles through wet sniffles, sounding clearly beat down and worn.

“I’ll get them.” Sicily says, stretching from the floor before Reuben can leave the room. He freezes for a second but then nods in acceptance for her to get the meds. She returns a moment later, with the bottle of NyQuil and pours him a cup.

“I deed like… dhree o’ dhose…” He mutters through a strained voice as he shots the cap of medicine down.

“You ‘deed’ to blow your nose.” She jokingly mocks, pouring him a second cap full of NyQuil and handing him some tissues. He snuffles dismissively and jokingly steals the cap, chugging it down and returning it back to her with a mumbled ‘fuck you’ under his breath. She giggles, feeling slightly relieved that the old Draco was starting to come back a little. Reuben distantly watches the two from the distance, feeling a little excluded and odd. He knew something was going on here, but he wasn’t sure.

The gurgling sound in the tissues grabs the attention of the entire room as Draco gives one good blow into the handful of tissues. One blow and that’s it. Fuck it. He was too tired and that single blow took the wind and force away from him. He weakly coughed a few times into the tissues and threw them onto the floor, immediately sinking back into the couch.

“Let’s do the fucking gifts so you assholes can get out and leave me the hell alone.” He mutters, voice barely audible.

***

The gift exchange was fun for the most part. Everyone was having a great time except for Draco of course. Everyone seemed happy with their gifts. Reuben bought him a brand-new motorcycle so that he didn’t have to Uber or wait for him to drive him around. Lirin bought him a book on tips for being sober. And Sicily went out and got him a new flask with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a pack of Marlboros. One thing he could say was that this was the first Christmas that he had in a long while that actually felt homie. And it was the first Christmas that he had been too sick to participate in the festivities for.

“Alright Draco. Thanks for being apart of our Christmas and opening the gifts. We’ll get out and let you rest.” Reuben says, watching the NyQuil already start to take its’ toll.

Reuben and Lirin walk out of the room, leaving Sicily and Draco together again. She was sitting beside the rugged man on the right side of the couch. They sat together in a peaceful silence, besides Draco sniffling every couple of seconds. He didn’t mind her company. If anything, he was glad that she decided to stay.

“Alright, you’re tired. Time to go back to sleep.” Sicily says as she tries to get comfortable on the couch. “Come here.” She gently tugs on his arm for him to come closer to her on the couch. He exhaustedly obliges and nearly collapses into her chest, shifting around to get comfortable in her embrace. She blushes a little, feeling his head resting on her chest. Best Christmas gift ever, she thought to herself. She closed her eyes and raked her fingers through his damp hair, massaging his scalp as she tried to fall asleep wit the sick rugged man. She cracks an eye open as she feels the rugged man shift uncomfortably in her embrace and freeze before lightly jerking forwards twice, releasing two weak sneezes aimed at the floor.

“Hhuh’kgDTzsshn! Eh’Dsschkn!” The two weak sneezes take whatever energy he had left and he doesn’t even sniffle, feeling his entire body becoming too tired to do anything at the moment. He can only release a shaky exhale and collapse into Sicily’s embrace. She smiles, feeling overwhelmingly happy at the situation.

“Merry Christmas to me…” She happily mutters to herself before joining Draco in a long, well deserved sleep.

END.

Hopefully it was worth the wait LOL XD A lot is going on in this fic but I like’d working on it even though I had some intense writers blocks lol xD Like I said, I’m working on like 5 different fics all at the same time hahaha so hopefully I can post those because I been writing a lot, just not all on the same fic ahaha.

17 notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 3 years

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1062

survey by chrissylee22dc

Achievements: I guess I’m being asked to list some of mine...some of the ones I’m proudest of, at least, are graduating university with honors, landing a job (liking it is a big bonus), and taking up leadership positions.

Age: I am 22, but never felt quite like it.

Are you planning something right now? Kind of. I’m eyeing a long road trip to Tanay with just myself and go to one of their coffee shops, but idk when I’ll be able to do that. My wallet and bank account are still beat from Christmas lol (and until now I’m still buying gifts for friends), so it might have to wait until sometime next month.

Arizona or Alaska: I think Arizona weather is already quite like ours here, so I might enjoy Alaska a bit (if not a lot) more. There’s generally a lot more factors I find interesting with Alaska, like their food.

Birthdate: April 21st.

Build: I’m quite thin and underweight, but I actually recently made plans to start working out - both to make an effort to be healthy with myself, and also to feel good post-breakup. I’m hoping to see some changes in my body and build in the coming months.

Babies, do you have any? None of those, not sure if that’s still the plan for me.

Blonde or Brunette: Brunette.

Childhood sweetheart: Erm, does Gab count? We technically weren’t kids anymore when we first got together. I wasn’t attracted to anyone as a kid and was more concerned with growing my Pokemon pogs collection.

Current mood: I’m hungry and can go for savory breakfast foods right now, like shakshuka or huevos rancheros. Also a little anxious because I really don’t want to think about work, but tasks continue to pile up for a certain client.

Children, are there more in your future? There aren’t even any to begin with.

Coke or Pepsi: Pepsi just because it reminds me of Punk and my chaotic wrestling fangirl years.

Dad's name: Edgardo, but no one calls him by that full name. He has two nicknames; one of which he hates and only family and friends use, and the other is the name he has permanently introduced himself as in his workplace.

Dating anyone: Not anymore.

Do you plan on having lots of money? Don’t most people?

Dogs or cats: Dogs.

Elementary School: I’m not sharing that.

Eye color: Dark brown/black.

Ever going to China? Probably not right now considering the present situation. I’d love to go to the rural cities and have a peek into their country life.

Early or Late: EARLY. Lateness is a big pet peeve, unless the excuse is super reasonable like Manila traffic or a car accident.

First Crush: The first person I felt remotely attractive to was Andi, from 6th grade. Then she moved to New Zealand and the crush quickly faded out.

Fears: For concrete things, I hate cockroaches and fair rides. For bigger concepts, I fear getting left behind, failing, and not getting approval, and the idea of never being satisfied or happy with who I am, what I’ve done, or where I’ve gone.

Future goals: Have a place of my own, be able to sustain myself, and keep myself alive.

Funny or Serious: I think everyone has to have both sides. I wouldn’t want to hang out long with people who can’t be sat down to just shoot the shit with conversations that go a little deeper. At the same time, I’d be quickly bored with someone who talks about existential or philosophical topics 24/7 and takes everything seriously.

Grandparent's names: On my dad’s side, Dolores and Federico; on my mom’s side, Agnes and Jun. My maternal grandpa is the third in multiple generations of Abelardos in the family, but his nickname is simply ‘Jun,’ because Philippines.

GPA: We don’t measure our grades with that, but we do have a GWA; I’m just not sure how that can be converted to GPA. Mine was in the 1.47 range, which was good enough for cum laude honors. I barely missed out on a magna cum laude honor (which required a 1.45 GWA), so that’s something I’ve always been pressed about and I know I could have clinched it if the pandemic didn’t cancel my final semester, which would’ve given me the chance to pull up my grades.

Going anywhere this weekend? I don’t think so. I want to spend the remaining 5 days of my break completely unproductively.

Giver or Taker: Giver. I like pleasing people.

High School: I attended one school from kindergarten to high school.

Hair color: Black.

Hate anyone for life? I don’t think so. I dislike some people, but I can’t tell if I’ll feel that way for the rest of my life.

Hairspray or Gel: When I’m going somewhere or attending something fancy, I use hair gel to hold my hair down.

In 8th grade, who was your best friend? Eighth grade is freshman year of high school, right? In that case, my best friend was Gabie.

Is ignorance bliss? Sometimes it is. I like no longer being updated about Gabie’s life. Back when I still tried to push my way in, I was miserable. I stopped doing so over the holidays and I just stopped reaching out, stopped trying to communicate, everything. I’ve been a lot happier that way.

Is there anything you wanna share? That’s kinda the goal with every survey I take.

Ice Cream or Cake: Right now, maybe ice cream. I’m very picky about cake, and I don’t like the spongy ones aka most cakes I know.

Jumped rope for fun: That’s exactly what I use jump ropes for. I don’t think I ever used it for fitness or working out except for maybe PE.

Junk around you right now? I mean, not really. I have my embroidery stuff in a pile beside me, but I don’t consider them junk.

Joining anything anytime soon? Not planning on it. I briefly considered joining a gym as a new thing to do for 2021, but in the end I figured working out at home would be enough. Angela recommended the latter as well, so that’s how I abandoned my gym plans quickly haha.

January or July: I guess July? January always feels just a teeny bit stranger than other months, considering it’s the beginning of a new year.

Killed anyone: ...This serious?

Keeping a secret? I keep different secrets from different people.

Kicking someone off your top friends today? I don’t think that’s a thing anymore. Hasn’t been for a while.

Kiwi or Apple: Apple, just because I’ve never had the chance to taste kiwi.

Lost anyone close to you: I’ve lived 22 years, of course I have. I’d be very surprised if someone has lived that long but has never experienced losing people, whether from a fallout, from death, etc. Just this year alone I lost a great-aunt on my maternal grandpa’s side, and a ton of relatives from my maternal grandma’s side.

Last kiss, when and who: Gabie, three months ago.

List 3 people that you'll love forever: I can only think of Angela. And of course, Gab.

Lover or Fighter: Fighter, I suppose. I can be relentless. Right now with my breakup has been the only time I allowed myself to take a step back and not forcibly take things under my control for once.

Middle School: We don’t follow the concept of middle school here. The levels in middle school fall under elementary school as well.

Marital Status: Single.

Mom's name: Abigail.

Music or TV: TV.

Northernmost state you've been to: Batanes, which is as northernmost as northernmost gets in the Philippines.

Nickname: A lot of family members call me Byn, but for the most part Robyn has always been my main nickname.

Name your future boy and girl: I have yet to make up my mind about this.

Naughty or Nice: Nice. I never particularly feel ~naughty, and since the breakup I especially haven’t felt the need to be sexual.

Opened a piece of mail that wasn't yours? Sometimes I’ll open the electricity or water bill addressed to my parents out of curiosity just to find out how much we consumed in the last month. But nothing more than that.

Occupation: I’m an associate at a PR agency.

Owe anyone money: Nope.

Outgoing or Shy: Shy at first but I can get outgoing once I’ve warmed up to a person/situation.

Place you most want to be? Right now? I’d love to be at a coffee shop or bar at a higher altitude, with a view of the city. I used to go to a lot of these before the pandemic hit, but now I’m thinking of doing it again.

Purposely destroyed someone’s life? No.

Planning a major trip? Not really. Most tourist spots require swab tests and I am not having anything go up my nose.

Pink or Black? Love both, but I like pink ever so slightly more.

Quit a class: I’ve never dropped a class. I’ve wanted to, but there was so much paperwork to fill out to do so and I also didn’t want to be behind on my overall schedule.

Quickly...the first word to come to mind: Whistle, because the pink/black question reminded me of Blackpink.

Quitting your job soon? No lol I’m barely two months in.

Quiet or Loud: I can be both, but these days I’ve been quieter.

Riding in an airplane: I have no idea what this is asking.

Ride, tell me about yours: ^ Same.

Running for any political office in the future? No plans to.

Rain or Snow: I guess rain, since it’s the only one I’ve experienced.

Siblings names and ages: Nina is 20, my brother is 17.

Shoe size: I fit anywhere between a size 6 to 7.

Shave daily? It used to be daily, but I haven’t had the need to since the quarantine began.

Shower or Bath: Shower.

Turning 21 was (will be): It’s been a year since then.

Texas, ever been? No but I have relatives who live there, so it’s one of my choice states to visit and stay at if I ever plan to go to the US.

Think you'll live to be 100? I doubt it. I don’t have any relatives who lived until that age.

Tame or Wild: Idk, tame I guess?? I don’t know what this is asking.

Unique quality about you: I feel like this is a question best answered by other people who see and interact with me more than I do myself.

Underwear on? Yeah.

Under your bed lies: Large containers with all the magazines I collected from childhood that I can’t bring myself to throw out.

Under or Over: Idk, you have to be more specific.

Virgin? No.

Vacation time left? I have five days left, including today :( I plan to be the most unproductive or bum-y I’ve ever been, because I have no clue when I’ll have a break this long again.

Voting in the next Presidential election? Of course.

Volleyball or Swimming: I like swimming more, but I like watching volleyball.

Went white water rafting? I don’t think so, but I would give it a shot.

Wearing right now: A hoodie that’s around two sizes bigger for me.

Write a sentence about you: About anything? I’m a little upset with myself for having been a bit lousy with survey-taking during the holiday break. I planned on taking a lot to catch up on the ones I’ve missed out on, but so far I mostly take just one a day lol.

West Coast or East Coast: East.

X-Rays in the past month: 0.

X-Mas plans: Had a get-together with my mom’s side of the family on the 24th; we hosted our own Christmas party on the 25th; and we visited my dad’s side of the family on the 26th.

X, does it mark the spot? Idk.

X-Tina or Britney? Britney.

You lost "it" when? I mean, I’ve had more than one moment where I freaked out...

Your favorite song: I’m really in love with Saw You In A Dream by The Japanese House. My favorite songs come and go, but this one has been a constant.

Your favorite place on Earth: Sagada.

Yes or No: Idk. I’m not enjoying these vague ass questions.

Zodiac Sign: Taurus.

Zodiac Sign: Idk, I’m still a Taurus.

Zippos are neat, agree? I don’t have an opinion.

Zoo or Circus: Neither.

#survey #surveys

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ilvsyzj · 3 years

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Chapter Thirty-Four: Orientation Day of Yin Yang Royal Couple Training.

Week #4, Thursday, 12/24/2020, Christmas Eve

When I woke up this morning, I was a little confuse as to where I was. Then I remember I was at Safe Haven Mountain. I was really tired. Sky was already up and he was just laying next to me, with a very groggy look on his face. Toothless and Snow climb into our bed and they sat on our chest.

Sky: -yawning- Can I help you?

Snow: Food.

Toothless: Hungry.

Jazzy: -yawning- Five more minutes.

Snow and Toothless: No. Now.

Sky: Scarlet and Icy isn’t asking for breakfast just yet.

Toothless: Because they flew off at sun rise to hunt. Now, feed us.

Sky: Can we just stay in bed for a few more minutes?

Toothless and Snow: Nope.

Sky and Jazzy: -getting up- Fine.

I went to get ready and Sky fed the cats. Then Sky went to get ready as I was going to our team for breakfast. Sky joined us shortly after. No one was talking to Brandy or Jeff because of what they did last night. I think they are too embarrassed. They should be because everyone in Safe Haven Mountain heard what they did. After breakfast and well deserve two cups of coffee, Scarlet and Icy returned from their hunt.

Scarlet: Ready for training?

Sky and I: Yes.

Phil: Do you want us to join?

Icy: Yes. Today, is just an orientation. So every should listen up. Because your official first day of training is Saturday.

Scarlet and Icy took us to a quiet cave. There are multiple little caves in this mountain. Inside this little quiet cave we had our orientation.

Scarlet: This Saturday we are going to start our Yin Yang Royal Mythical Court and Couple training. How this training works is that you all are going to go to a special cave. You will find this cave with a Yin Yang symbol carved into the entrance way. Go into this cave and that’s where all of you will start your training. The first four level are elements. Four of you are going to send some your powers into me and Icy. You’re going to learn a new power called Friendship Power. Levels 5-10 physical training. For the next two weeks all of you have to give it your all. At the end of the two weeks there is a small ceremony and then your Yin Yang Royal Mythical Court and Couple Training is complete. Any question?

William: Will the Healers come with us?

Icy: Yes. But they are not to interfere unless you are injured.

William: Understood.

Icy: Any more questions?

Mike: If there wasn’t a war how long will this training usually take?

Scarlet: 9 months to a year.

Jazzy: Wow! We are taking the express way.

Scarlet and Icy: Yup.

Icy: If you don’t have any more questions then lets return to camp.

Simon: Wow! Scarlet and Icy are already as big as house.

Toothless: Dragons do grow in rapid speed. But Scarlet and Icy aren’t done growing yet.

Jazzy: By the time we get home, Scarlet and Icy are sleeping outside. Because they will be too big and won’t be able to fit through the front door, I think we should build them their own little house.

Icy: No need. We like to spread our wings when we wake up in the morning. We don’t like being trap inside a small wooden box.

After our short orientation we went back to camp. We had a little lunch and Sky was acting a little nervous today. I was about to ask why he’s being nervous, but I couldn’t because Brandy screamed-laughed again. Since she was next to me and her voice is pretty loud. I freaked out and shot a fire blast towards the ceiling of the mountain. And few chunks of rocks fell down to the little river behind us.

Michelle: Jeez.

Sky: -growling at Jeff and Brandy-

Brandy and Jeff stopped fooling around. I went to check to see if anyone was injured from my little scare blast. To my relief no one was hurt. But the large chunk of rock was blocking the flow of water. I moved the large chunk of rock with my wind power. The head Healer told me to put the large rock in far corner of the cave, because she has idea of what do with the large chunk of rock. Then I went back to camp. When I got back to camp I heard some fighting between Sky, Jeff, and Brandy.

Sky: -angry- Hold it! Do it on Christmas! Not now!

Brandy: -crying- I can’t hold it. Every time Jeff touches me, I feel turned on and I just want to make out with Jeff. -sniff- We don’t want to do it in front of all of you. It’s already embarrassing. -sniff-

Sky: -angry- Jeff, for the next 24 hours don’t touch Brandy until tomorrow. If you continue to touch her today, than I have no choice but bench the both of you. Understood?!

Jeff and Brandy: -nodding-

Sky: -angry- Good!

After that little fight. Brandy went to join her girls and Jeff went to join the boys. Sky asked me if any injures, and I told him no. Just a large chunk of rock blocking the flow of the river, which I moved with my power. Sky nodded and sigh. I understand what Sky is going through because he has to team two different groups. Also, being in heat is really hard. You either get super horney or you’re in a lot of pain. I’m feeling a little bit more sore these last couple days and tired, so I know I’m in heat but I don’t complain because I’m focusing on my training. If I don’t think about me being in heat, I don’t feel it. Unless I bleed all over my pants, which I have done multiple times when I was a teenager. But now, I know when I’m about to be in heat or in heat, is when my body is telling me whether I’m sore or when I’m super tired. When I’m super tired I go to be early at night or I don’t want to get out bed in the morning. But focusing my mind on something different, then I would be fine. However, I do get jumpy when I’m in heat. So, any loud sudden noises makes me jump out of my skin. I also get very grumpy when I’m in heat. I try not to show it but once in while I will show it if I get annoyed enough. Jeff and Brandy little horny festival did annoy me, but my mind was thinking about something else, so I didn’t snap at them, not like Sky who snap at them a couple times. Sky is the leader and he has to make sure everyone stay in line. If not then we will have chaos on our team and we don’t want that.

Since today is Christmas Eve, Sky walked over to me and took my hand. Sky led me away from the group. But we were only 5 feet away from the group when Vix came up to us.

Vix: Sorry, to bother you two. But don’t wonder off too far, because there’s going to be a team meeting before dinner tonight.

Sky and Jazzy: Understood.

Vix: Good. Have fun. -smiling-

Jazzy: Where we going?

Sky: I want to show you a place where I find it amazing.

Jazzy: Okay.

Sky took me to a cave called Hidden Crystal Cave. I never been here before and when I walked in I was so amazed by what I saw, that my jaw dropped to the ground. I felt like I was in the movie How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World. The entire cave is pitch black with little dots of light. From the glow worms hanging from the crystals. It was the most place I’ve ever seen.

Jazzy: Wow. -smiling-

Sky: I thought you’ll like it. -smiling- This is my favorite place to be. Because its like I’m looking at stars. I would come here when I can’t see stars in the city because of the city lights. I don’t really come here unless I want to destress. You are the very first person I brought to this spot. I didn’t even bring my parents.

Jazzy: Oh. You’re very sweet. This is our special spot. -smiling-

Sky: Mhm.

Jazzy: Why do I have a feeling that you’re going to give me something?

Sky: -laughing- You love ruining surprises. Stop reading my mind.

Jazzy: Hey. -slapping Sky’s arm- A) I didn’t read your mind. 2) When you get nervous about something its written all over your face. So, you’re nervous about some bad news you’re going to give me, or you’re nervous about asking me something.

Sky: Darn. I do have something to ask you, but I’ll ask you tomorrow. However, I did find the perfect jewel for your Christmas gift. -smiling-

Jazzy: Now, you’re making feel bad. :(

Sky: Why?

Jazzy: Because I didn’t get you anything.

Sky: You still got time. I can take you to the Jewel Cave tonight.

Jazzy: Okay.

Sky: Let’s go.

Sky took me to Jewel Cave which turned out to be a Jewelry Shop. Sky waited for me outside so he wouldn’t know what I’m getting him. I spend a good 10 minutes in the shop looking for the perfect gift, and I found it. I’m actually giving Sky a Yin Yang Couple Message Necklace. I’m actually a little bit of Yin and Yang. Sky is mostly Yang. So I’m his Yin and he is my Yang. The nice employee wrapped it up for me and I left the Jewelry Shop.

Sky: What did you get?

Jazzy: -laughing- Cheater. I’m not telling you. You have to find out tomorrow. -smiling-

Sky: Boo.

Jazzy: Don’t boo me mister. I didn’t ask you what you got me. Why should I tell you what I got for you?

Sky: True. Fine. I’ll wait like a good boy. Can I get a tip?

Jazzy: It’s our new symbol. -smiling-

Sky: Oh. I know what you got me. Thanks. -kissing Jazzy on the lips-

Jazzy: You’re welcome. -smiling-

Sky and I walk back to the camp site. Because we had a meeting that we need to attend to.

Simon: Did you two have a nice walk?

Sky and Jazzy: Yes.

Candy: Where did you guys go?

Jazzy: Did a last minute Christmas shopping.

Brandy: -excited- Oh. What did you get me?

Jazzy: Oh. I didn’t know the entire group was exchanging Christmas gifts this year. I only got something for Sky and no one else. I’m sorry.

Brandy: That’s okay. Next year, we’ll do Christmas gifts exchange.

Jazzy: Deal. -smiling-

Jeff: Oh, you shouldn’t done it. Now, Bran is going to expect a gift from you next Christmas.

Jazzy: That’s fine. I actually like giving gifts to family and friends. So, I don’t mine giving you guys a little something for Christmas. -smiling-

Sky: Some of us can be picky. You sure?

Jazzy: Mhm. I usually ask my family and friends what they want. If they don’t tell me then I just bake my family and friends some cookies, brownies, or hand made stuff.

Sky: Okay. But Brandy can be very expensive. Just warning you.

Jazzy: Good to know. -smiling-

Brandy: I’m not that expensive. Sky is execrating.

Sky: I’m execrating?

Vix: -shouting- Team meeting!

We went to where Vix was standing.

Vix: This meeting is very short so I’m going to take up much of your time. Tomorrow is Christmas so we have the day off. So you can go and do whatever you want. Just don’t leave this mountain. If you leave this mountain you are going to be attacked by the enemy, or the enemy is hiding outside this mountain and watching where we come out, so the enemy can come in and kill everyone in here. So tomorrow and until we leave no one is allow outside. Understood?

Everyone: Understood.

Vix: Good. One more thing, everyone needs to focus in the next two weeks. So if any you have news please announced it tomorrow night. So you can get it out your system tomorrow night. If you can focus without telling us any good news, then please keep to yourselves. I’m just saying if you are a type of person that need to tell people right away, do it tomorrow night but if you are a type of person that can wait until the job is done. Then please keep the news to yourselves. Because I don’t want any of you being distracted from the task at hand. Understood?

Everyone: Yes.

Vix: Good. That is it. Have a good night rest. See you tomorrow.

The meeting ended and we went to do our own thing. 45 minutes later it was time for dinner. All of us were in our own little world. Enjoying our Christmas Eve dinner. After dinner our group start telling stories about their Christmas Eve dinner parties. Some of these stories are funny and some of these stories are embarrassing. But it was all good fun sharing stories about our families and friends. At 9pm I went to take a shower because I was feeling tired. 20 minutes later Sky took his turn. I wrapped Sky’s half of the gift. I put my half on my neck. I already set up the necklaces and I send a message to Sky’s half. I’m wearing the Yin half and tomorrow Sky will be wearing the Yang half. The best thing about these necklaces is that they are waterproof. So Sky and I wouldn’t have to take it off, when we shower or go swimming. Also these necklaces doesn’t look too girly so its perfect for Sky when he wears his. Before Sky came out of the shower, I put his gift in my backpack. When Sky came into our tent Toothless and Snow came in as well.

Toothless: Do we get gifts tomorrow?

Sky and Jazzy: Sorry no.

Snow: Oh. May next year?

Jazzy: I promise next year you two that you get gifts from me and Sky.

Toothless: I’ll hold you up to that deal.

Snow: Ditto.

Jazzy: -smiling-

Sky: Can I have my gift tonight?

Jazzy: No. You and I will exchange gifts tomorrow.

Sky: All right. Because I’m curious as to what you’re wearing around your neck.

Jazzy: My half of your gift. -smiling-

Sky: Oh. I know what it is. But in my family we have a tradition of exchanging Christmas gifts on Christmas Eve.

Jazzy: I don’t believe you.

Sky: Okay. -handing Jazzy his phone- I have old videos on my phone. That proves my family does exchange gifts on Christmas Eve. Every year.

I unlocked his phone and went to his videos. I found Sky’s old family videos and it proves that Sky wasn’t lying to me. After watching 5 videos I was convince.

Jazzy: -handing back Sky’s phone- Fine. -Taking out Sky’s gift out of my backpack- Merry Christmas. -smiling-

Sky: -pulling out Jazzy’s gift from his jean pocket and handing it to Jazzy- Merry Christmas. -smiling-

Sky and I open our gifts. Sky loved his gift and I love my gift. Sky gave me a Promise Engagement Ring with a beautiful 1/2 carat ruby diamond. Sky already put his gift around his neck. I was crying because I never seen such a beautiful ring. Because my 1/2 carat ruby diamond sits in the middle of the Yin Yang symbol.

Sky: Promise Engagement Ring is more important than a regular Promise Ring.

Jazzy: -sniff- Why?

Sky: -wiping away Jazzy’s tears- Because this ring symbolizes my promise to love you until death due us part, and I want to ask you, will you do me the honor of being my wife and queen?

Jazzy: -sniff- Yes.

With that I’m engaged today to Royal Prince Sky You. I put on the ring and I kissed Sky. Sky hugged me and he was very happy that I said yes. I couldn’t be happier. Because I found my soul mate and best friend. I didn’t have to think twice because I knew Sky was the one for me, when we first met. That night we didn’t get our new tattoo, because the ring symbolizes that Sky and I are engaged. Sky and I came to decision that we won’t tell the team that we are engaged. Because we know that they are going to be more excited over our engagement, and not focus on the task at hand. So, tomorrow we are going to put our gifts into our backpack. We are going to tell them after the war. Because we don’t know when our wedding is going to be. That’s why we decided not to tell them that we are engaged. The most common question is going to be asked is when the wedding is. Sky and I haven’t set a date yet for the wedding, but we know that we want to enjoy our engagement for as long as we can. But December 24, 2020 is the day I’ll never forget. I’m so happy that I said yes to Sky that I’ll be his wife and queen. However, Toothless, Snow, Scarlet, and Icy know our news, but they wouldn’t say anything because they know that we are going to get mad at them, and also they know what is more important which is the task at hand and not our engagement.

Sky and I went to sleep and our animals are very happy with what they heard. But Sky and I knew that our team heard Sky pop the question and my answer to his pop question. So by tomorrow morning our entire team is going want to celebrate. Especially Brandy. Before I closed my eyes I have a gut feeling that Brandy would want to know what colors I want for the wedding. Because my gut is telling me that Brandy wants to be my wedding planner. At midnight we felt someone come into our tent and plop on top of me. Whoever came into our tent scared the crap out me and I set my tent on fire. It was Brandy who came charging into our tent.

Brandy: -screaming- I’m sorry for scaring you. But I couldn’t sleep until you give me answer.

Jazzy: -annoyed and groggy- What is it that so important that it can’t wait until tomorrow?

Brandy: -shouting- Can I be your wedding planner?!

Sky: -annoyed and angry- Jeffery! If you don’t pick up your wife to be. My wife to be is going to set your wife to be on fire!

Michelle: -yawning- Jazzy just answer Brandy. Because if Brandy doesn’t get an straight answer from you, she isn’t going to stop bugging you with the question for the rest of the year.

Jazzy: -groggy and annoyed- Ugh! Sky and I will think about it. And in 2 weeks after our training we’ll give you an solid answer. But you are not to ask us the question repeatedly for the next two weeks. If you repeat the question every day for the next two weeks then Sky and I will give you a solid no as our answer. Understood?

Brandy: Understood.

Jazzy: -yawning- Good. Now go to bed.

Brandy left and Vix gave us a new tent. We all went back to bed.

-End of Chapter Thirty-Four-

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comicgeekscomicgeek · 4 years

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Their Hero Academia – Chapter 41: A Mighty Internship Begins!

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Earlier chapters can be found here

Might Tower! Once home to All Might, now home to Deku and Lemillion, the Number One and Number Two Heroes (who often traded off positions in the charts). It was also home to two of the most effective Underground Heroes, the Voice and Glamour. There were also countless Sidekicks and an in-house Support Studio headed by Melissa Togata.

The bottom floor included a museum, devoted to All Might’s incredible career (including a gift shop, all proceeds from which went to charitable organizations and efforts). There were floors of phone banks, answering calls mundane and urgent, the staff well-trained to direct the calls to the correct people or bring Hero attention to it. There were floors of offices, handling all the paperwork that came with such a huge organization. There were multiple floors devoted entirely to a Support Studio. And, of course, there was a floor each for Deku and Lemillion, and subterranean levels for the Underground Heroes.

Countless people worked there. It was, in fact, by percentage of employees, the largest employer of the Quirkless in all of Japan.

And it was where Isamu was going to be spending the next week for his Internship. With Deku. The Number One Hero.

A hand clasped on his shoulder. “You have to go inside, Haimawari.”

“Yah!” he let out a gasp, returning to reality. “Sorry, Midoriya. Drifted away there for a second. Just feeling overwhelmed.”

“Relax, man,” Midoriya said. He was interning with Lemillion, but he didn’t seem nervous in the least. Small wonder, when he was the son of the Number One Hero, who had grown up with other Heroes around him like an extended clan of Uncles and Aunts. Lemillion was even his godfather, for crying out loud! He’d probably practically grown up in Might Tower. “You earned this.”

“For what it’s worth,” Kocho said, wings trailing behind her, “I can’t believe I’m here either.” She too was interning with Deku. Or, as she’d explained on the train ride over, “doing a ride along.” The Voice—Shinso’s dad—was also going to be working with her.

The moth-winged General Studies student had been offered a spot in the Hero Course following her Sports Festival performance. If she could get herself up to their level, she’d be able to join them for the Summer Training Camp and then formally join their class for the second semester. It’d be nice, Isamu reflected, having someone else in the class who didn’t come from a Hero-pedigree.

“Well,” Midoriya said, “you earned it too.” He looked both of them over and hesitated only a moment before he spoke again. “Really, you guys can relax. Dad’s one of the easiest going guys around. And Uncle Hitoshi acts kind of grumpy sometimes, but he’s really a softie. You’ll do great!”

Well, one of those statements was definitely true. Isamu had seen Deku interviewed often enough to know that he could shift easily between giving an inspiring speech to suddenly geeking out over a new Hero or one of his friends or even the interviewer’s Quirk. He saw some of that in Midoirya, but he must have gotten a decent dose of good sense from his mom.

“C’mon,” Midoriya said, waving a hand in the direction of the doors. “Let’s go in.”

Isamu grabbed the handle of his rolling luggage and followed suit.

***

Having left Midoriya behind several floors below, Koharu stepped off the elevator with Haimawari and onto the top floor of Might Tower. Passing through the lobby and other floors with Midoriya had been an experience; everyone there seemed to know him. Small surprise, really, given who he was.

She’d been here a few times on school trips and during one special civilian tour (her uncle, who worked the night shift dispatch, had managed to get tickets for the family), but coming into it as a potential Hero was another thing entirely. Maybe she’d walk these halls as a Sidekick someday? It was way too early to think about. She wasn’t even a Hero Course student yet, not really. She’d signed the paperwork, the offer had been extended, but she needed to prove herself first.

A bespectacled secretary told them that Deku was in his office and directed them down the hall.

“Here,” Haimawari said, pulling open the door to the office for her. “Ah, Mister Deku, sir?” he asked.

“They told us you were insiiii….” Koharu trailed off, struck speechless by the sight inside.

The whole office looked like it had been the scene of a terrible battle, the walls cracked and furniture turned over and broken. How had anyone not heard this?

“D-d-d-Deku!” Haimawari shrieked, pointing a long arm. “He’s… he’s… dead!”

She followed his finger and saw Deku on the ground, laying on his stomach in a pool of what looked like blood. His arms and legs were splayed and… were those his intestines? Perhaps it was unheroic of her, but Koharu let out a scream. They had to get someone, get someone to help, how could this have happened without anyone knowing?!

Suddenly, Deku sprang to his feet, somehow looking none the worse for wear. “I’m alive!” he said, a big grin across his face.

This time, both she and Haimawari screamed.

There was the sound of running feet in the hallway and another burst into the room, a young man, maybe in his early twenties, blond, muscular, and wearing a silver and black costume, lined with red, the majority of the chest taken up by a silver shield-shape. “What’s going on…?” He took one look at the room, at Deku, and at Haimawari and her, then slapped a hand to his face. “Dammit, Uncle Izuku, not again!”

No longer able to hold it, Deku let out a long laugh, nearly doubling over. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, finally righting himself. “But you should have seen the look on your faces…!”

Koharu exchanged a look with Haimawari. What the hell was going on?

“Okay, okay,” Deku said, looking to a corner on the room. “You can drop the illusion, Camie.”

There was a strange moment and then the world shifted, the destruction and blood and violence done to the office disappearing and leaving it in its normal state. And there in the corner was blonde woman in a skintight catsuit, the zipper pulled down low to expose her cleavage, and a peaked cap. She was leaning lazily against the wall, scrolling through her phone.

“’sup, fam,” the woman said, giving them a little wave.

“You’re… you’re the Shield!” Haimawari said, pointing at the blond man. “And you’re Glamour! I knew you both worked here, but I didn’t expect to see either of you on the first day!”

Koharu felt her heartrate slowly returning to normal. Haimawari geeking out over the Heroes was relaxing, in its own way. It was such a normal reaction. One she’d have probably echoed if the sight of Deku, dead, wasn’t still trying to burn its way across her memory. The Shield she recognized, one of Deku’s most well-known sidekicks. The woman seemed vaguely familiar, but didn’t strike any major memory chords.

“I’m sorry,” the Shield said. “He does this to all the new Interns and Sidekicks. He did it to me on my first day and I nearly jumped through the roof.”

“Hey!” Deku said. “It’s a time tested method for surprising Interns, passed down to me by Gran Torino himself!”

“You mean the guy whose idea of training was to beat the shit out of me?”

The Number One Hero smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, pointedly ignoring his Sidekick’s question. “Anyway, where are my manners? Kids, this is Tamaki Togata, one of my Sidekicks, and Camie Shinso, one of the Underground Heroes who works here. Tamaki, Camie, these are Isamu Haimawari and Koharu Kocho, my Interns for the week. Koharu here is Kaito down in dispatch’s niece.

“The First and Third Place finishers at the Sports Festival!” Deku finished excitedly.

Koharu felt a smile tug at her lips. Deku’s enthusiasm was positively infectious and for a moment, at least, all her doubts about being here were banished. “Your son finished Third too,” she said.

“Midoriya’s deserved it,” Haimawari agreed. “He got all of us through the first leg with his plan.”

“He’s a good kid,” Deku agreed. “Mirio will take good care of him, I’m sure.”

The Shield nodded. “I saw the Sports Festival. You did good work, both of you. Wish my kid brother had done half as well, but he’s happy tinkering with his toys. Nejire came in third place too, for the Third Years. Hasn’t shut up about it.”

“Shota couldn’t stop talking about it,” Glamour agreed. “Mad lit, kids. And Kaito’s a total star. Keeps the whole ship running at night. Hubs likes him ‘cause he doesn’t get gabby.”

“Thank you,” Koharu said. Her uncle wasn’t the bragging type, but she knew his job was frequently demanding and stressful, so praise from the Heroes who relied on his support was nice to hear.

Deku grinned again. “Okay, Tamaki, you want to show the kids where they can stash their stuff, then show them to the locker rooms, and then meet me down in Training Room Alpha? And Camie, if you’d like Hitoshi know they’re here?”

“Can do,” the Shield said, tossing off a small salute.

“If he’s awake,” Glamour said. “Might have to kick him a few times.”

“Careful,” Deku told her. “He just got a new sleeping bag with extra padding.”

“It’s that a little fast?” Koharu asked, a little surprised. “I mean, I’m here to learn, I know, but I’m so far behind…” Maybe Heroes just did things quickly. She’d studied them plenty, but didn’t have any real idea how this was supposed to go.

There was still so much she had to catch up on. What she’d done to teach herself had gotten her far, but she lacked the foundations and skills the Hero Course students had. She thought she might observe or something first, but to just go for it like that?

“All the better reason to get started now!” Deku beamed.

***

“Oh, that was awesome!” Deku yelled, pumping a fist in the air.

Isamu came to a stop, firing a small burst of power like a retro-rocket. Next to him, Kocho touched down with a flutter of wings. Training Room Alpha turned out to be specifically reserved for Interns, Sidekicks, and Work Study participants, allowing them to hone their Quirks and skills in relatively lower stakes simulated environments, using the latest in holographic technologies. Deku had started them off with a simple obstacle course, throwing various challenges their way (such as catching a falling civilian or avoiding simulated flames) as they made their way across a series of rooftops. The nature of it meant he hadn’t been able to go full throttle, and Kocho had been able to keep up with him that way.

It had probably started as a competition, but it had quickly fallen into something more like cooperation. Which was probably Deku’s intention in the first place. He hadn’t offered any instruction, just letting them go and seeing what they could do. Considering he had a notebook (Actual paper and pen! In this day and age!) open in front of him and was still scribbling, he probably had lots of feedback pending.

He offered the purple and blue haired girl a handshake, which she took. “Good work,” he said. While he was wearing his costume, she wore a U.A. gym uniform, having explained that there hadn’t been time to fabricate a costume before the Internship began.

“Thanks,” she replied. “You too.”

“It was all right.”

The sudden voice snapped Haimawari’s head around, to a figure all dressed in black, a steel-grey cloth wound around his neck like a scarf. “Mi—mi—Mister Aizawa!”

No, wait, that wasn’t right… In fact, he looked pretty much like an older version of Shota Shinso. Right! The Voice!

He wasn’t the only one who recognized him, though. Koharu practically lit up at the sight of him. “You’re Shinso!” she yelled. “You’re a legend!”

The tired looking man shrugged. “That’s my name,” he said. “But I’m no legend.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest, Hitoshi!” Deku said.

“But you, young lady,” Shinso continued, as though Deku hadn’t spoken, “you were very impressive.”

“He’s getting his license so he can take on Interns,” Deku volunteered. “Which is something he’d said he’d never do. Because then he’d have to deal with… extroverts. I’d have asked you anyway, Kocho, but Shinso really wanted me to.”

“Just give it all away, why don’t you, Deku?” Shinso asked, but he sounded more amused than annoyed.

“You’re, um, you’re nothing like your son, Sir,” Isamu said, then instantly slapped both hands over his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. But it was true. Shinso the younger was so talkative and energetic, and the Voice was so… not. He was afraid he was going to fall asleep just standing there watching them.

“Heh.” The smallest possible smile he’d ever seen anyone make moved across Shinso’s lips. “He certainly takes after his mother in that regard.”

Isamu decided not to dwell on how a guy like the Voice had managed to marry a woman like Glamour. Some things were best not thought about. Though he supposed you could say the same thing about his own parents, with his easy going, goofy dad, and high strung mother.

The purple-haired Hero’s eyes narrowed, highlighting the bags under them. “Still… Izuku was able to remind me that I do have a lot of wisdom and experience to offer. If somewhat unofficially.”

“Okay, so, before we move on to the next exercise,” Deku said, and Isamu could swear he saw a maniac energy in the man’s eyes, “I have so many questions about your Quirks!”

***

Shinso! The Shiso! The Voice! Only one of the most famous General Education students turned Hero ever! There wasn’t a student in the General Education course who didn’t look up to him. To think, Koharu wasn’t just following in his footsteps, but getting first-hand experience with him!

After giving her and Haimawari time to shower, Deku had taken the gawky boy off with him, leaving her and Shinso. Technically, all they were supposed to be doing was getting breakfast in the cafeteria. But this wasn’t even reading between the lines. The Number One Hero was certainly playing more fast and loose with the rules than she would have thought!

She’d been surprised by the number of food choices available, though, especially the liquid options! She’d been a little worried about that and in fact had a few options packed away in her luggage. The two of them occupied one table, while various Sidekicks and other employees occupied others and left them in peace.

Shinso, as it turned out, also enjoyed pouched food. “So,” he said, “I don’t suppose I can interest you in being an Underground Hero?”

Koharu blinked her large eyes at that, slowly withdrawing her proboscis from the syrupy fruit pouch she was drinking. “I think I’m a little too distinctive for that,” she said.

His shoulder went up in the slightest of shrugs. “Worth a shot,” he said. “But you’re right. The public will love you. You’re flashy and distinctive. Camie says you’re “trending” and “a hashtag.” Whatever that means.”

Koharu decided educating a Pro-Hero on the intricacies of internet terminology was not something she was interested in doing. “I’ve tried not looking too much at what the internet is saying about me,” she said. “But I haven’t been all that successful. A lot of people seem real excited about me. The school, the public, even Deku. Feels like a lot of people are making a big deal out of me. Not sure if I feel like I deserve it.”

There was certainly a subset of the internet that seemed to feel the same, coming up with all kinds of preposterous claims and accusations, saying she was just taking attention away from up and coming Heroes. And then there were the more vicious comments, from those who still held a lot of prejudice towards Mutant-Type Quirks. The former were annoying and chiseled away at her self-confidence. But the latter? Those hurt.

“You don’t,” Shinso said, and Koharu felt her mouth open in shock.

“What?”

“Not because of the Sports Festival win, anyway,” Shinso amended hastily, as though sensing he’d been a bit too blunt. “People make more out of the Sports Festival than it really is. It’s a chance to show off, but it’s not the be-all or end-all of Hero-training. And it’s still horrifically biased, if not quite so bad as the Entrance Exam still is. Though making a good impression is still important.”

He fixed her with an intense stare. “The fact that you impressed Nezu and others in the faculty is what’s significant. You’re being fast-tracked. I had to train for months to just have the chance to try out for the Hero Course and I didn’t get to join until the second year. If they’re putting that out there, it means you have a real shot at doing something great. Of course, I was young and stupid. You’re young, but I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“…Thanks?” she tried.

“Besides,” he added, “you’ve got me in your corner. I know how Aizawa thinks, and I know exactly what you’re going to need to get up to Hero Course standard. And I’ll share it with you, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“When you’re a famous Pro-hero, you pass the torch, same as I’m doing now.”

***

Isamu was honestly surprised by how approachable Deku was, even if he shouldn’t have been. Between what he’d seen in interviews and how Midoriya had talked about him, it was obvious the Number One Hero was able to switch from “Hero Mode” when dealing with villains or disasters to some kind of “Civilian Mode” when doing practically anything else. As they’d gotten their food and taken a seat in the cafeteria (And Deku was just… eating in the cafeteria. Like he was some Sidekick or paper pusher, not the guy who literally owned the place!), it became rapidly clear that he knew the name of each and every person who worked for him, calling them by name and asking questions about their family or hobbies or other details that he wouldn’t have thought he’d have time or inclination to know.

Isamu took a bite of his breakfast sandwich (What could he say? Convenience store style foods agreed with him.), then a long swig of coffee. Probably more sugar in it than he should have, but he wanted to make sure he was fully awake and alert for the day.

“So,” Deku said, in-between bites of his own breakfast, “can I ask you something, Haimawari? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Well, that was a loaded statement if ever he heard one. Isamu felt his heartrate kick up a notch. What could Deku possibly want to know? “Ah, sure?” he said, wishing he felt more sure of himself, or that it sounded less like a question.

“Maybe I’m overthinking this,” Deku said, “because that’s kind of my thing, but after the Sports Festival, I couldn’t help but think that you reminded me of something I’d read about when I was a kid and for a little while when I was in U.A., and then I went digging into some old files and newspaper archives and everything and…”

Isamu knew, instantly, what Deku was planning on asking. He wanted to run or use his Quirk to slide away, but he felt riveted to his seat, despite Deku’s rambling, unassuming nature.

“Are you connected to the Crawler, who used to be in Naruhata?”

Yep, there it was.

“Mister Deku, sir, I…” he began, tripping over his words.

“You can just call me Deku.”

Isamu swallowed hard, looking down. Mobility-enhancing Quirks were quite common, even Quirks which allowed mobility over various surfaces. The specifics, like his needing three points of contact, varied, but Quirks could easily be traced through family lines. He was an only child of an only child, not exactly hard to figure out where it might have come from if anyone did any digging.

“The Crawler?” he asked instead, hoping to buy a few precious seconds to think.

“A Vigilante who used to operate in Naruhata, starting about twenty-eight years ago. Mostly small scale stuff, just helping people on the street, though he and a couple other Vigilantes did get involved with some pretty big stuff on occasion too. But mostly he was kind of a local figure. A “Nice Guy” who helped watch out for people and kept the neighborhood safe. Not many people even know about him, since the press didn’t like to give a lot of attention to that kind of thing, though a few U.A. teachers worked with them and even Captain Celebrity talked about them in his autobiography…”

U.A. teachers. Right. Like Mister Aizawa and Vice-Principal Midnight. Both of whom had to know about his parents. Dad had mentioned them often enough, when recounting stories of his glory days. Which was something he’d tried very hard not to think about since the start of school.

“And who disappeared about eighteen years ago. Just a couple years before you were born, as a matter of fact.” Deku finished, matter of factly. “Took a while to find the archival footage, but what little bit there is of him in action pretty much lines up exactly with you at the Sports Festival.”

He shouldn’t have been surprised, he reflected for the second time. Deku was well known for his knowledge of Heroes and his analysis of Quirks. And you couldn’t get to being the Number One Hero without being incredibly clever and intelligent on top of that. It’s a wonder he thought it wouldn’t come up.

“That’s, that’s my dad,” he said, quietly. He looked up, pleadingly. “Please don’t tell anyone.” There wasn’t a statute of limitations on Vigilantism charges. If he got his dad in trouble by going to U.A…!

“Relax,” Deku said, holding up both hands in a placating gesture. “I just wanted to know if my theory was right, and I wanted you to know that I know. No judgements. Everything I’ve pieced together says your dad helped a lot of people.”

Isamu let out a puff of breath. “That’s, that’s good,” he said. “Thank you.”

“So,” Deku continued, “tell me about why you want to be a Hero.”

Now that, that was a question he was more prepared to answer. Especially with more cards on the table. “I want the chance to do what Dad couldn’t,” he said. “He spent, still spends, his life helping people. Big ways and small. But he missed his chance to be a Hero. And I think part of him always regretted that. He told me helping people was the best thing a person could do, no matter if they were a Hero or not. But I just figured that if I did become one, I could help a lot of people. In a lot of big ways.”

At that, Deku nodded. “It’s a good reason,” he said. “I’ve certainly heard worse.”

“I, ah,” Isamu began again, “I just want to really thank you, for this opportunity. I didn’t think somebody like you would ever notice somebody like me.”

For the briefest second, he could have sworn he saw some faraway look pass over Deku’s face. Then he remembered that Deku was, somehow, a very late bloomer, who hadn’t manifested his Quirk until he was a teenager. Who’d gone to school with Shoto and Ingenium and Creati, scions of various Hero legacies of their own. Maybe he did understand a bit.

Deku smiled. “Just looking for someone who looked like they could use a shot. You and Kocho both.”

The Number One Hero’s grin got bigger. “So… how’d you like to go on patrol?”

#my hero academia #their hero academia #fan fic #fan fiction #my writing #isamu haimawari #izuku midoriya #hitoshi shinso #camie utsushimi

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leejihoonownsmyheart · 5 years

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Chaos of Life

Summary:

Yoongi doesn't do things he doesn't like to do. He doesn't talk to people he doesn't like. He doesn't go to class if he doesn't want to. He doesn't even bother to look at those he doesn't think deserves his attention. So, Jimin can't help but wonder what on Earth he did to deserve this strange boys attention.

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

Yoonmin University Fanfiction. Multiple Chapters. Warnings Don’t Apply. Good for General Audiences.

You can also read it on: Archive Of Our Own and Fanfiction.net

Chapter Fifteen:

Jimin woke up to Jihyun running rampantly up and down the hallway just outside of his room.

Jihyun loved Christmas. Jihyun loved Christmas as much as a little kid experiencing their very first Christmas. He loved the food, the lights, the decorations and he loved spending the time with his family.

Jimin had always loved Christmas too.

He matured a bit over the years thanks to Jihyun’s constant childlike wonder for the holiday. He had enough genuine joy for everyone in the family to be able to experience it second hand without going a little overboard.

Jimin smiled briefly to himself and sat up in his bedroom, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

His room was just the same as ever, nothing was special. That was, of course, the reality of Christmas. People expected it to stand out from any other day of the year, and while it did, it only did because of the people you spent the day with.

In the past, it had been enough for Jimin to spend the holiday with just his family. Open presents, eat dinner, all of the above, just the four of them.

This year, however, it didn’t feel like enough.

Jimin wanted to spend it with the others.

He wanted to spend the day with Yoongi, and Tae, and Jin, and everyone.

He wanted nothing more then to see Namjoon’s face when he saw this book on zodiacs that he had bought him this year and to watch Taehyung get teased for how excited he would surely get if someone bought him that watch he had been wanting for so long.

He wanted to be able to sit next to Yoongi and feel his warmth as everyone laughed and made jokes and had fun.

He wanted to see everyone at the dinner table, enjoying a diverse meal that his mother had taken all day to cook.

He wanted to sneak out with Yoongi at the end of the night and kiss him in the cold under the moon.

Jimin sighed dreamily to himself, getting caught up in the fantasy for a moment.

The perfect Christmas...

He lifted himself up out of his bed and ruffled his hair with his fingers as if reacquainting himself with reality.

But he couldn’t spend time with them. Not today, not on Christmas. So he got to his feet and walked out of his room.

Jihyun glanced at him, a huge smile crossing his lips.

“Jimin! Merry Christmas!” He said happily. He raced over to him and wrapped his arms around his brother. Jimin laughed.

“Merry Christmas,’ he said softly in response. Jihyun pulled away and smiled.

“Oh! And guess who's here?” He asked. “I mean it was supposed to be a bit more of a surprise, but I can’t help it! I’m too excited!’

Jimin frowned slightly, glancing past Jihyun. As if on cue, Yoongi poked his head around the corner of the kitchen doorway.

“You thought I’d let you celebrate Christmas without me?”

Jimin broke out into a bright smile.

God, he was an idiot to think that Yoongi would ever let him be alone on Christmas.

“And don’t forget us!”

Jimin was abruptly attacked from behind, and he knew the instant that the two fell to the ground that it was none other then Taehyung. He laughed wrestling the other boy off of him.

“Woah, what are you doing here?” He asked in surprise.

“Yoongi thought we should all spend Christmas together,” Namjoon said, he peered down at Jimin with an amused look on his face. Jimin sat up and looked around, and sure enough, they were all there. Jin was in the kitchen with Yoongi, while Hoseok was standing next to Namjoon. He offered Jimin a hand.

Jimin took it, and Hoseok promptly pulled him up to his feet.

“And you know how Yoongi gets when he is determined to spend time with you,” Hoseok said with a slight roll of his eyes.

“Unstoppable,” Namjoon filled in. “He gets unstoppable, I don’t know how he convinced my dad to let me spend Christmas somewhere else so last minute but... Here we are.”

“Well, I thought it was a lovely idea!” Jimin’s mom chipped in. “I mean I know that you boys have only been dating for a little while but it’s so sweet like he’s already a part of the family.”

Jimin’s face reddened a bit.

“Mom-”

Jimin’s mom interrupted by leaning forward and kissing Jimin briefly on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas baby,” she murmured. She turned away from Jimin. “Jihyun, I better not catch you loitering near the cake.”

“How do you see everything?”

Jimin’s mom wandered off into the kitchen, leaving Jimin alone with his friends. He smiled and looked around at them.

“I still can’t believe you’re all here,” he said.

“Yeah, only one I couldn’t get was Jungkook. Sorry, I did try,” Yoongi murmured. He came up behind Jimin without warning resting his head on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist. He let his head brush against Jimin’s.

“It’s okay, his parents are pretty protective,” Jimin murmured. “All of this on its own is already one of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve ever received.”

“So much for the scrapbook, you gave him last year huh,” Namjoon joked, gently elbowing Jin in the side. Jin chuckled.

“I didn’t know him last-”

“I know buddy, I know.”

Namjoon laughed pleasantly and took Jin’s wrist.

“Look, I’ve got something to give you.”

The two boys walked over to the Christmas tree and began to look at a few of the presents under it. Jimin could tell that Namjoon wrapped one of them.

It was like the wrapping paper wrapped around his had just been sloppily taped around the box.

“If you think that’s all I’ve gotten you, you’re crazy,” Yoongi murmured into Jimin’s ear.

“Yoongi, I-”

Before Jimin could even finish the sentence Yoongi had slipped a small wrapped box into Jimin’s hand. Jimin looked down at it wordlessly.

The box was perfectly wrapped, honestly, he was half convinced at first glance that a professional had done it.

Even so, he took the small ribbon that held the shiny box shut between his fingers and pulled it loose.

He pulled the lid up and peered in.

It was a small silver necklace with a long bar and a date engraved into it. Jimin crowned inquisitively at the small numbers.

“Is that...”

“The day we met,” Yoongi responded. “So you’ll never forget our anniversary.”

Jimin openly scoffed turning to look at Yoongi.

“So I’ll never forget our anniversary?” He exclaimed. “What makes you think I’d forget?”

“Well, we both know I wouldn’t forget,” Yoongi teased back pleasantly. He looked up a little more to meet Jimin’s eye and as he did so, his nose brushed against Jimin’s. “And someone’s got to be the forgetful one so that in thirty years when we start to drift apart, I can be mad at you for forgetting our anniversary.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. In thirty years you’d forget, and at dinner, I’d start crying over a glass of wine because you used to treat me like I was special, and whatever happened to that?” Jimin continued pleasantly. Yoongi laughed at that.

“My husband? Drinking wine on our anniversary?”

Yoongi tightened his grip around Jimin’s waist.

“I don’t think I’d want my husband drinking on our special day.”

“Husband huh?” Jimin observed. His heart skipped a beat at the mere thought. Married to Yoongi, wouldn’t that be something?

“Well if we’re together for thirty years I’m sure I’ll have proposed by then,” he assured.

“Yeah? How long would we need to be together then? For you to propose?” Jimin implored.

Yoongi’s lips were so close to Jimin’s that they were almost touching at this point. If Jimin just moved a little closer he could...

Yoongi pulled away and moved his hands down to Jimin’s giving them a small pat.

“I can’t let you know all my secrets,” he said teasingly. “Now... Where’s my present?”

Jimin’s face reddened.

He had spent ages before today wondering what to get Yoongi for Christmas. He had never imagined that Yoongi would be so hard to shop for.

A ring was too much like a proposal and Yoongi didn’t really wear necklaces so that was out of the question. Shirts were too impersonal, ties more of a gift for a husband than a boyfriend.

Jimin didn’t really think it was appropriate to get Yoongi any other clothing items (he couldn’t think of anything specific), and a photo album wouldn’t work this early on in their relationship...

He had stayed up nights on end trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to give Yoongi.

Something personal, something romantic, something perfect.

No pressure there.

So after scouring through tons of internet articles, and asking all of his friends what Yoongi liked the best Jimin had settled on a bracelet.

It wasn’t anything much. Just a silver solid bar that would loosely hang off of Yoongi’s wrist. Jimin had gotten one thing engraved into it, just to make it special, it read Yoonmin.

It was dumb and stupid and was nothing compared to the necklace, but still, Jimin handed Yoongi the small package.

Her nervously watched as Yoongi unwrapped the present, and smiled at the small bracelet.

“Yoonmin?” “Our names combined,” Jimin mumbled in embarrassment. “If you don’t like it-”

Yoongi interrupted Jimin by leaning in close and placing a brief kiss on his lips.

“I love it,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Jewelry, really?” Taehyung teased. “Are you two a bunch of girls?”

Jimin scoffed.

“Oh, so are we just forgetting about what you got everyone last year?”

“Those rings were-”

As if able to hear how it sounded Taehyung stopped talking and pursed his lips.

“Okay, that was different.”

Last year for Christmas Taehyung had bought everyone solid black rings. There wasn’t really anything special about them, but everyone knew that he had spent a lot of time to find the perfect gift.

He had been pretty excited, even got one for Jungkook, who had pleasantly referred to them as ‘friendship rings’. Of course, everyone had relentlessly teased Taehyung for getting them jewelry, etc, etc. But no one had really minded them at all, in fact, most of them still wore the rings.

“You should open my gift to you Tae,” Jimin stated. He hummed. “Let me go get-”

“I put all the presents in your room under the tree,” Yoongi interrupted. Jimin glanced at him, somewhat surprised but smiled.

“Thanks, hyung,” he mumbled. He looked at Tae. “It’s the big one under the tree.”

Opening presents was one of Jimin’s favorite parts of Christmas because he loved to see his friends and family's reactions to what he had gotten them. Their joy and gratitude were one of those things that truly made Christmas such a special time for Jimin.

He watched as his friends passed around presents, opening their gifts one at a time with huge grins on their faces. Clothes, jewelry, and food were handed out and by the end, everyone had a lot of cool new gifts to wear.

Jimin was talking Taehyung through a video game that Yoongi had given him. Taehyung paused in the middle of the conversation to read over the back of the game box, and in that time Jimin glanced at Yoongi.

He was surprised to see that Yoongi was holding the small box Jimin had gotten him in his hands. The lid was on, and Yoongi peered at it quietly. He observed the wrapping that JImin had spent hours on, checking each and every tightly tucked corner. Then he pulled the lid off and looked at the bracelet.

Jimin would’ve given anything to know what was going through his head.

Before Jimin could even consider opening his mouth to ask, however, Yoongi had lifted the small bracelet out of the box and was struggling to put it on. Jimin just watched him for a long moment, admiring the way that his eyes zoned in on the small piece of silver, how the corner of his tongue peeked out from between his lips as he really concentrated.

A small smile crossed Jimin’s lips.

“Yoong, let me help you with that.”

Jimin scooted over to Yoongi’s side and took the ends of the bracelet delicately between his fingers. He fastened it with ease.

“There.”

Yoongi peered down at the bracelet, without even a hint of amusement on his lips. Jimin didn’t let that bother him in the least.

“You mind helping me out on my gift too?”

He pulled the box out of his pocket and carefully took the lid off and removed the necklace. He held out to Yoongi who took the necklace tenderly. Jimin turned his back to Yoongi and didn’t move as he lifted the necklace over Jimin’s head and began to fasten it behind his neck. As his fingers fiddles with the hook, they brushed against his neck, making Jimin shiver slightly.

Yoongi’s fingers were so cold.

“There you go.”

His hands retracted from Jimin but Jimin caught them before he could place them very far away from him. He enveloped one of his hands with his own and lifted it up to his lips. He began to blow hot air on it thoughtlessly, and then, when his fingers were still cold, placed his hand against his cheek.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow towards him, looking amused.

“Jimin, what are you doing?” He asked him. Jimin didn’t look at him.

“Your hands are so cold.”

He dropped the hand that he was holding and picked up the other one, repeating the same warming technique. Between both his hands, hot breath on it, and then placing it against his cheek to finish warming it.

“You’re so cute,” Yoongi mumbled.

Jimin’s cheeks reddened and he lowered Yoongi’s hand.

“Why were your hands so cold anyway?” He asked.

Yoongi chuckled and lifted his hands back to Jimin’s cheeks.

“Doesn’t matter. You know, when your cheeks are this red they are so much warmer?”

“Shut up,” Jimin mumbled in embarrassment.

After the presents came dinner.

Apparently, Jimin was a huge idiot because Yoongi had stayed over all night to help his mother prepare food, and Jimin hadn’t even known.

They made traditional Christmas food for everyone to enjoy. Bulgogi with sweet potato noodles and kimchi. His mom had apparently also made some walnuts wrapped in persimmons for dessert, while Yoongi had made some sugar candy.

And because Jimin’s mom was so obsessed with international food, they also made some stuffing and gravy.

It was incredible.

Jimin had never imagined when he met Yoongi that he would be such a good cook, or so excited to help out his family with things like that or to even get along with his family this well.

Jimin had never imagined any significant other he had would ever get along with his family this well.

“Jimin, you okay?” Yoongi asked.

They had all finished eating, including Jimin, he just hadn’t finished his persimmons yet.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jimin responded. “Just full. Thanks, mom, thanks Yoongi.”

“Dinner really was incredible,” Namjoon agreed, and all the others followed suit.

“Who’d have ever guessed the scariest guy in school with be such an awesome cook. Why aren’t you in culinary school?”

Jimin shuffled in his spot at the table and then stood up. He quickly began to clean off the table. It was the least he could do after all. Yoongi and his mom had done all the cooking.

Once he had finished clearing off the table, he was caught off guard by Yoongi taking his wrist. He gave him a short smile, and then glanced at Jimin’s parents.

“Mind if I borrow your son?”

“Not at all,” Jimin’s father sad with a laugh and a wave of his hand.

Yoongi didn’t waste another second, he pulled Jimin towards the front door.

“Grab a coat, we’re going outside.”

“What about you? Where is your coat?” He asked frantically. Yoongi shrugged.

“I don’t have one.”

Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Hypocrite.”

Jimin went into his room grabbing the two heaviest coats he owned. He brought them back and handed one to Yoongi.

“No wonder you got so cold earlier.”

Yoongi stuck his tongue out at him playfully but put the coat on.

“Thank you, namjachingu.”

Jimin’s face burned but Yoongi paid no mind to it, he took his hand again and took him outside, pulling out to the sidewalk before dropping to a leisurely pace.

They walked in silence, for the most part, each just listening to the sound of the other breathing softly beside them.

Jimin liked having quiet time with Yoongi. It meant that he had time to gather his thoughts about all the things Yoongi had been doing recently and there was a lot to think about today.

Yoongi was so social with his family, and it didn’t need to be said that that was a stark contrast from how it was at school. He hated to wonder again, but he couldn’t help but wonder what it was about him that made everyone hate Yoongi so much at school.

Geez, what had he done? What could he have possibly done to make everyone in college be so scared of him?

Jonghyun’s words came back to mind as Jimin walked.

“Okay so apparently his freshmen year he actively tried to make a number of friends. There were five of them and they hung out every weekend.”

Knowing Yoongi now, it didn’t seem like such a crazy concept. Yoongi could be friendly, and he was no stranger to saying something that would satisfy the other party whether he wanted to say it or not. Jimin had caught him saying things to his family left and right that he knew Yoongi was just saying to make them happy.

“Anyways, rumor has it that none of the boys in the group really like Yoongi because he was naturally quieter than the others.”

That in itself was painfully true. Even when around their friends Yoongi was mostly quiet. He could be energetic and outgoing at times, but most of the time it simply wasn’t like that.

“After a while, they were so sick of him that they decided to teach him a lesson. Once they had earned his trust-"

Once they earned his trust what? God, Jimin was going to go crazy trying to figure out what on earth had happened back then.

“Yoongi,” Jimin started. Yoongi’s steps slowed to a stop. He took Jimin’s other hand and before Jimin could ask anything he was closing the distance between them.

“Why did I bring you out here?” He asked thoughtfully.

Jimin’s cheeks pinkened again.

He wouldn’t ask Yoongi about what happened. Yoongi had made it clear he would tell him when the time was right, and JImin was determined to respect that... But that didn’t in any way explain how on earth Yoongi had known what he was going to ask.

“Yeah.”

Yoongi leaned forward, his nose gently brushing Jimin’s before he tilted his head and his lips pressed against Jimin’s.

When he pulled away, Jimin was pretty sure that it no longer mattered how cold it was outside, because right here, against Yoongi, with his lips so close to Jimin’s... Well, Jimin kind of never wanted this moment to end.

“I wanted to kiss you, without the others around,” Yoongi explained. He pressed his lips to Jimin’s again chastely. “Is that okay?”

Jimin nodded shyly and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“Merry Christmas,” Jimin murmured.

“Merry Christmas to... Who?” Yoongi teased lightly. Jimin groaned and buried his head in Yoongi’s neck.

“Merry Christmas namjachingu.”

Yoongi laughed, his shoulders bouncing a little at the action.

“Merry Christmas Jimin.”

Chapter Sixteen

#yoongi #yoonmin #chaos of life #Jimin #Bts #bts fanfiction #yoonmin fanfiction #yoonmin fanfic

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5questions · 5 years

Text

Joselia Hughes

Joselia "Jo" Hughes is a Black 1.5-generation Cuban-Jamaican-Guyanese-American writer and artist from the Bronx. She lives with Sickle Cell Disease (HBSC) and ADHD.

Where did you find the 3rd grade poem? How did you decide to include it? What other collage or found art/poetry do you like?

The 3rd grade poem was from a collection of student works, Witch’s Brew, released by my grammar school, Horace Mann. I have two issues from 2nd and 3rd grades. Both of my works were quartered in the “Fantasy” section. There was another section called “Feelings” and, I think, The Sky more accurately suggests a feeling. Scratch that: it explicitly discusses a feeling. This misidentification by academic administration/curatorial staff (which doubles as a political demonstration) is telling. I think it explains a lot about the root confusion between what I have felt/feel to know as Experientially True versus what I’m told to know as The Truth. When considering the emotional and material lives of Black femmes, we must remember Black femmes have been historically disallowed, disavowed and dispossessed of creative virtuosity. Too often, we are strapped in the monolith of stereotyped caricature dictated by the manifested destiny written into commandments/constitution of misogynoir. Black femme virtuosity is reappropriated, regesticulated and worn like some earned bloody body wisdom by the Opps (Oppressive Forces). While I didn’t have those terms as a child, I experienced the consequences of misogynoir in conjunction with dis/ableism and classism, which aren’t separate entities but necessary vices that amplify asphyxiation. Is disabled Black femme loneliness only permissible when classified as fantasy? That shit don’t sit right in my spirit. I also used the poem because the title is Witch’s Brew and my zine, Heartbeats But No Air (HBNA), is a kind of exorcism. A few years ago, I pieced together that my maternal grandmother was a covertly practicing Bruja. With the widening reclamation of ancestral wisdom by BIPOC, in an effort to decolonize our existences, I was tapping into that tender tendon of wisdom.

Understanding my grandmother’s practice reminded me that she wanted to name me Darthula Verbena (daughter of God, enchanting and medicinal). I started referring to myself as DV, my pre-name, and inspected my childhood. That’s been a remarkable endeavor. I had to teach myself to play again. Through play, I learned how to feel. Learning feeling meant learning the qualitative and quantitative nature of the labyrinth of my thoughts. Once I learned some of the turns of the labyrinth, I could feel to know how to navigate the terrain without fear and engage in the rigorous study that’s always characterized my central self. Play is a code switch. I often think of code switching as a means to subvert/refigure power differentials. To hide in plain sight by retooling “seeing” to perception/sensing. How much are we perceiving/sensing? How often do we mean perception/sensing yet default to “sight”? Perception/Sensing adds dimensionality that isn’t always articulated with and through “sight” and “seeing”. Ralph Ellison’s identification of “lower frequencies” and J. Halberstam’s configurations of Low Theory do this work. I toy with these multiplicities in the zine. I work low to the ground which means I work close to my heartbeat, my central drum. I work meta; I go beyond. I like to sprinkle codes, tickle clues, tuck in questions, sew in wisdoms so I know what I’m doing, why I’m doing it, who I’m doing it for and to always remember the fun of FLiP (Feeling, Learning, iPlaying).

Some of the works/folks who’ve helped me FLiP are Dana Robinson’s meditative and piercing collages; Zulie’s mind bending, heart wrenching, time suspending zines; Nikki Wallschlaeger’s I HATE TELLING YOU HOW I REALLY FEEL; Seth Graham’s tattoo practice/paintings/unbounded love of outer space (they’ve done 3/4 of my tattoos); Amanda Glassman’s razor sharp poetry and encyclopedic curiosity; L’Rain's music has literally helped me scale the side of a mountain and carried me through hospitalizations; KT PE Benito’s multidisciplinary liberation praxis and collaborative friendship; Zoraida Ingles' holistic creative prowess (a conversation with her is why Heartbeats But No Air, as a title, exists); and Marcus Scott Williams’ writings/video/sculpture work that readily embraces the persistence of ephemera. This isn’t an exhaustive list—I have a solid library of books and papers and zines and tunes at my crib—but, genuinely, I’m inspired by everyone I’ve had the honor to encounter.

There are themes of love and race and beauty and culture and self-transformation in this book. Paired randomly, some pieces may not make as much common sense together, but as a whole, it feels powerful and cohesive. What was the structuring process like for this chapbook? Each zine is different, right?

It is one zine. I find it cool that you consider HBNA a chapbook made up of many zines. The word chapbook had never crossed my mind. I walked into the process with DIY zine logic and HBNA was printed using office photocopiers. I think the feeling of cohesion you mention is what happens when you witness a lot of parts of one person. In this case, you’re witnessing a lot of different parts of me, my thoughts, my actual labor. Whole is the goal ‘cuz people are whole. I am whole. I consider HBNA a single revolution of myself— one big twirl around a fire, a sun. I was in a very strange place. I’d alleviated, with the help of acupuncture and CBD products, a significant amount of the chronic pain I’d been experiencing since August 2014. I fell around love with someone and rose in love to myself (thanks Ms. Morrison and Ms. Stanford!). I was in an unfamiliar painless trance. I created and tinkered with all of those pieces during a very short period of time from Summer 2017 to Summer 2018. HBNA was originally named Girl Pickney (the prose pieces were written under that moniker) and before that NggrGrl (a nod to Dick Gregory). I wrote the poetry in an even shorter period of time—March to July 2018—and the poems are actually part of a full length collection that I wrote in those four months. I didn’t decide on the layout of the zine until I was with two friends formatting it for printing two days before I was going to read at The Strand and sell it. I kept all the pages, the puzzle pieces, in a folder. A lot of book structuring, for me, is based on emotional knowing—when to slap, when to pound, when to breathe, when to confuse, when to stun, when to anger, when to tell, when to soothe. All of my structuring decisions are fly about to get swatted dead but fast enuf to fly away first intuitive. If I’m channeling that intuition, I know I’m in running in the proper heat and lane.

You were in an MFA program at one point. How does this chapbook contrast with your style from before that program and during that program? Did that program have an effect on your writing? This doesn’t feel like the most MFA-y writing, which is why I ask, and which I mean as a compliment.

I’ve attended a few schools. I’ve completed fewer than I’ve attended. Until my late 20s, I was shy and desperate for people, those noun-verbs, to stay. This desire for people to stay meant I spent an inordinate about of time and energy relegating the difficult parts of myself to the margins of the margins and continually stepped into social/academic shoes that did not fit. HBNA was the first fitting of the bespoke shoes I can now emotionally afford to make. The first copies I sold had typos! I misspelled my own pre-name and that’s exactly what I needed to happen. It needed it to happen because I’m full of mistakes and yet! I try! I understand HBNA as a radical refutation of embarrassment. Depending on when you purchased a copy, you’ll see I used white-out to make a few corrections. No two zines are the same; only 80 copies exist. I’m printing 12 more copies (they’ve already been claimed) and then on to new pastures! The zine was printed in three different places (two offices I don’t work in and a local printing shop) and I was lugging around 800 individual sheets of paper that I stapled, numbered, indexed and decorated with stickers by myself…standing barefoot on the carpet of Staples in Co-Op City, listening to Ryo Fukui’s Early Summer on repeat until I finished and then I jetted to the Strand to read. HBNA was how I knew to embody my physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual labor. I’m a goofball with zany ideas, an indifference to external definitions of relevancy, sickled cells and a lot of chaotically grounding love. I write for myself first. Of the school lessons I did receive and learn, there weren’t many I didn’t later disassemble to rebuild, freak unfamiliar or completely misunderstand. J. Halberstam calls this “failing”. Rejigging failure has been such a gift to me. How wonderful! A failure AND still happening? Fuck yeah! I was a wildly uneven student whose knees buckled at mere thought of rigid academic authority. After years of shame and refusal, I can finally admit I am an autodidact. I intentionally get lost and navigate in and to the direction of my own senses. School didn’t teach me to write for myself and that’s who I always have to write for. If that’s selfish, so be it. I am my first audience. If I’m sus of me, then me and myself got foundational problems. I know my writing is non-institutional and that lack of institutional alignment and support, while scary as shit, pushes me to make and take risks to believe beyond the immediate demands/plans/remands of whatever external force I am facing. My writing is constantly colliding into A New I can’t predict. I’m fully committed to unfolding, unraveling, for curiosity’s sake.

What’s a typical day like for you?

My day to day life is as predictable as it is unpredictable. I am formally unemployed and have been for awhile. I live on very little cash and am kept afloat because my mom is a gem and hasn’t kicked me out. My days are 100% influenced by the weather and I spend a good portion of my time negotiating how to minimize the occurrence of vaso-occlusive crises and other complications from the disease I have, Sickle Cell. Between January 2018 and January 2019, I was hospitalized three times. Each hospitalization was about a week long and recovery took significantly longer.

Here’s a sketch of what I call a really great day: I wake up before 10. If the night’s sleep was especially restorative, I can comfortably rise at 8. Depending on how my body feels, depending on how much pain I’m enduring, how much fatigue is shrouding/clouding my faculties, I decide if I have the energy to take a shower. I do the bathroom routine, get a cup of orange juice and take my medications (Endari, sometimes Adderall, Folic Acid). I use the first hours of wakefulness to connect with loved ones via text-phonecalls-DMs and browse the internet for headlines-news-updates-new smiles. I wear my fits comfortable. I call comfort my uniform—upend normcore to body sensible—sweatpants/leggings, pullover, one earring (although I’m leaning to pairs again), handy dandy baseball cap and sneakers. I keep it simple. If the weather is aight—if it isn’t too cold or too hot and if precipitation is mostly at bay and air quality isn’t extremely poor—I go outside and get some living exercise. When able, I take extremely long walks. Once I walked over 50 miles in a week! It’s my preferred form of meditation. Walking/body movement grounds my ADHD symptoms more effectively than stimulants, strengthens my body for potential Sickle Cell episodes and satiates my unyielding need to feel connected to other people. I’m at my best when outside and happening. Illness can create an inescapable interiority. Inside reminds me of the hospital and my relationship with the hospital is, at best, fraught. Walking allows me to follow myself. I engage in peek-a-boo with babies, witness accidents, smile at strangers, duck the eyes of leering people and learn how to love differently too. I go to playgrounds and swing. I take photos and notes. If I’ve got a lil cash, I ride the subway for fun. I poke into shops, admire graffiti and other street signs. I have one woman dance parties on sidewalks. I rest on park benches and read. I pick up grub from hole in the wall spots—you know—I live my life and embrace as much as I can while centering kindness and gentle flow. The walks are my favorite part of my job, which I do not have. When I return home, I rest then get to crafting which I sometimes call spelling. Crafting/Spelling can be anything from adding to my I-Box, spitting verses from the abstract (poetry), spinning short stories, detailing journal entries, doodling, painting, knitting, researching & studying, dancing & stretching, bugging out on Twitter or reading. My bedroom is my studio so I work small yet widely. I intentionally provide myself with many targets so I can a) keep my thoughts and feelings flowing b) find the connections between all of my actions and c) mitigate the stress that sits in the heart of a lone project. I am a multifaceted, multifauceted being. Why not turn on all the taps?

The more long form prose pieces in here have the feel of nice punch-y flash fiction. Are you writing a fiction collection without poems and collage in it? I want to read that, too :)

Hahaha! You’re onto me! Yeah, I am writing another book of poems, a manifesto zine and a collection of fiction. I’ve been writing a collection of fiction since 2012. I had a lot of the difficultly writing the fiction because I was too attached to the title, the characters I conceived needed to grow up with me, and I experienced many years of unremitting and improperly managed mental and physical illness. I was holding onto and telling lies. The shame woven into those lies kept me silent and scared. All of that shit needed to get integrated or dropped. I couldn’t enter the prose/fiction I’m currently writing without learning how to survive myself and the world and bottom-belly-believe in survival too. I’m getting there— healing with primary, secondary and tertiary intentions. Won’t say much about the fiction pieces of than: ~15 stories, lyrically speculative fiction, capital B Black, disabled, and queerfemme parables of creation and destruction and maintenance. My website is in flux but I do readings and performances. Hit me up on Instagram , Twitter or email me at [email protected]. Might take a minute for me to respond because I’m thoughtful yet questionably organized. Now go play, ya’ll!

Unintentionally wrote a poem in the interview. I call it A.B.B in Lieu of A.B.C

beyond

fly, about to get swatted dead but fast enuf to fly away first,

always believe beyond

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beardyallen · 5 years

Text

Well, that went quickly...

What day is it? I’m starting to lose track of how long I’ve been here...

Well, it’s been a week since my last post, and it seems that a lot must have happened, but honestly I feel like I’ve just been cranking through a bunch of comic books.

But I do know that Friday and Saturday involved a good deal excitement, so I guess we had might as well pick up pretty much where we left off!

Last Friday was Orientation for ICB, which meant getting all of the 35-40 instructors, 10 staff members, and the 6-8 people in charge of this program together in a room to introduce us to...basically what we’d been doing all that week. Also, aside from a couple study-abroad-undergrads and my officemate and me, everyone there had probably already heard the spiel.

It was scheduled from 5p-6p with a buffett afterwards, but a bunch of the Communications people from my floor were going out to eat (again?) afterwards, so I made plans with NR. She wanted to try this Mexican restaurant in what I’ll describe as the “international district” of Beijing. Most everything around us when we got there looked like it belonged in literally every metropolitan area in the world. Every major brand you can imagine had a store. Multiple. Too many...

But the Mexican restaurant we visited is owned and managed by a Mexican expat, apparently. He even stopped by our table to ask how the food was, and let me tell you: that quesadilla was the BOMB!!! And the margarita was pretty good (not as good as MHO’C’s, though!). By the time we finished up dinner, it was kind of late, so we wondered around the shopping center, found a bookstore. You know: the usual.

Fun fact: when a store or restaurant wants to indicate to their patrons that they are getting ready to close, they play smooth jazz and turn the lights down. Like for real. Had their not been windows open to the pavilion outside with it’s hundreds of light displays, I would have been seriously concerned when the lights in the place just went out and Kenny G popped up on the speakers.

We entertained the idea of finding the cinema nearby to see Alita Battle Angel, but during the 15 minutes that we spent wondering around in search of the complex, it seemed to elude us. Plus it was getting close to that time when the subway shuts down, and I wasn’t exactly hankering for a taxi ride this early in my stay....if at all.

The next morning, I got up early to meet back up with NR at the National Museum near the Forbidden City. Now, for the most part, the stairs I get don’t bother me. But I will say, if you’re going to stair at the pasty white guy with a hard-to-describe-its-color-accurately-beard, maybe don’t do it when you’re going 15 mph on a bike, facing in the wrong direction! *sigh.....Some people’s kids...

But what really bothered me, especially at the time, was the father-of-three who straight-up filmed me on his phone from 5 feet away for a solid 6 minutes, three hallways, and two escalators! I get it, I’m funny looking. But I really think I a picture would have done just fine...

One of the things that bothered me the most about that experience was that (a) he had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, (b) his daughters seemed rather embarrassed, (c) he filmed me with the screen aimed at me so I could watch myself on his phone, (d) there was text on the screen, and (e) it went on for a solid 6 minutes.

In hindsight, I was wearing sunglasses and a hat, in a subway system, in the morning, heading to the center of Beijing. Maybe he thought I was a celebrity? I had spoken to a Communications graduate student the other day who happens to be black, and he told me the story of how a citizen here pull out their phone with a picture of Samuel L. Jackson on it, and gestured to him as it to ask if it were him...even though SLJ is for sure at 70 years old and this kid is no more than 35. And he looks 25. #smh

Anyway, after dealing with whatever the hell that was, I got to visit the museum! They, for whatever reason, were not allowing people to bring their charging blocks into the museum (external battery that you can use to charge your cell phone and other devices on-the-go), but more surprising to me was just how many people carried one with them! At least, it was surprising until I took a moment to think about it. As I’ve mentioned before, basically every payment made in Beijing is through WeChat, which needs internet access, so I guess it shouldn’t be too surprising. You also really can’t navigate through the city with some sort of Maps app; there are just too many bus routes, train routes, terminals and stops to keep logged in your head.

As far as the museum itself goes, the gifts to China from foreign governments exhibit and the Ancient China exhibit themselves took most of the day. Also, no surprise: the gift that took up the most floor space was given by a U.S. President. I also got a refresher in 8th Grade Social Studies. Too many small countries to remember all of them, and that space made me feel somewhat moronic.

The Ancient China exhibit was exceptional, though. They broke up the last, oh...750,000 years of human-ish life in China into 8-10 separate eras, the first few cataloguing the life and evolution of Homo erectus pekinensis into Homo sapien, while the latter eras were segregated dynastically. I’ve never seen the progression of human evolution laid out in such detail! The rock tools became better rock tools, then pottery and paper, stamps, buildings and so much more! There were even ceremonial helmets that would put the Juggernaut to shame!

It was strange, though, to have all of this knowledge just beyond my fingertips both literally and figuratively. The literal sense isn’t too shocking, as I’ve been to a museum before and know not to touch the pieces, but to have placards written in a language that would take years to learn was frustrating. Fortunately, NR has a never-ending supply of patience, and she translated much of the text. She even quizzed me on several of the characters. I’ve worked out how to write “rock” for sure.

After the museum, we wondered over to a nearby mall that, honestly, puts the Mall of America to shame. No joke. This place was huge! It just kept going and going and going! There was a particular alley that has all of the “exotic foods” that you might see on The Amazing Race, which I haven’t tried yet but intend to, but the rest is mostly-outdoor shopping center. Our reason for being there was to find food (we had been in the museum for a bit over 7 hours), and then sit our fine asses down in a movie theater to watch Alita.

We found a restaurant that served food traditionally found where NR grew up. It was exceptional. And the beer just made it better. :P

The movie experience was something else entirely. I’ve gotten used to watching television and movies with subtitles so that, when people decide to talk to me, I can follow along with both bits. Or if people are just talking near me while I’m watching television, I don’t have to rewind the show. That helped a lot; the movie was still spoken in English, but there were Chinese subtitles. I recognized the Chinese character for “1″ frequently enough, but that was about it.

The movie itself was way more than I expected. I shouldn’t be surprised, given that one of the primary characters is played by Christoph Waltz. If you haven’t seen it yet, you should definitely consider it.

Also, additional fun fact: I’m thinking that most (if not all) showings of major motion pictures here are in 3D. *shrug* Side note: we’re going to see Captain Marvel tomorrow and I’M SO FREAKIN’ EXCITED!!!!

After the movie, we wandered back to the subway station and parted ways mid-subway-ride to head home. The next day I spent playing Kingdom Hearts 3 and sipping some beer in the 3rd Floor Lounge. All day. It was blissful.

This workweek has consisted of four main things: teaching responsibilities, a bit of dissertation work, trying out another one of the cafeterias on campus, and reading comic books. Oh, and beer. But that kind of goes without saying, doesn’t it? There’s a convenience store on the other side of the building in front of the Guest House that has cans of beer. You can buy them individual for 3 yuan, or roughly 45 cents. I won’t lie to you: I bought 12 of them and it didn’t cost me more than 6 bucks. And it’s really not bad, and even more convenient than the liquor store I lived by in Denver.

Anyway, as I said, I’m going to see Captain Marvel tomorrow, then to “W-Town” (originally Watertown...so glad they shortened it...) in northern Beijing, which sits at the base of part of the Great Wall. More than 20 people from ICB will be heading up to their on Saturday, so I imagine one of them will take pictures. Probably ML or S. So you’ll have those to look forward to since you know I won’t be taking any!

Oh!!! I almost forgot the biggest thing that happened this week! Actually, it might be the biggest news of my entire stay!!!

I did laundry.

And I washed my slippers. I’m not convinced that they’ve stopped smelling, but I’m holding out hope that I’ve finally figured out how to resolve an issue that I know humanity has been seriously struggling with for decades. I’m on the verge of a breakthrough, people, I swear!

Anyway, time to finish this beer, read a bit more of Scott Lynch’s Republic of Thieves (WE FINALLY FIND OUT ABOUT SABETHA!!!!), and head to bed. Big couple of days ahead...

Sláinte,

BeardyAllen

P.S. I bet you thought I was gonna forget! After class on Wednesday, I worked out how to make a phone call from here to the States to wish my Mom a Happy BIrthday. Caught her at work, and we got to chat for a good long while. It really put a nice cap on my evening, and it seemed it gave her a good start to her day. Anyway, I hope you had a great evening, found something nice at C&B and enjoyed that glass of wine you mentioned! Love you!!

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donghanrk-blog · 6 years

Text

* keychains for santa

rkcharity solo; 1.6k — donghan’s never really enjoyed helping people.

there are only a few good traits donghan has picked up from his parents, but there are plenty of negative ones: among many other things, his family shares an overwhelming need to make themselves look good. this is what, many years ago, led the original kims into volunteering for various “charity” events run by various family friends who were often just as, or even more wealthy than themselves. the lines between profit and not-for-profit were often pretty blurry, but the fundraising always went suspiciously well. as donghan and his brother got older, his parents made less and less appearances at the events, choosing to let the children be the faces instead. this often meant donghan would (unwillingly) spend several weeknights during the holiday season taking pledges at dinners, singing in choirs, canvassing or handing out pamphlets in front of department stores. donghan and his brother never knew or cared even a little bit about the causes they were involved in, either giving up halfway through or finding little games to play with each other to distract themselves from the boring volunteer work.

the stupid thing is, donghan’s parents never caught on or never cared about how crappy donghan actually was at fundraising for these things. donghan continued to participate in whatever cause his parents pretended to care about every year until he moved to seoul – only because if he didn’t, his parents would threaten his allowance or even worse, compare him to his brother (which was incredibly unfair considering how sucky he was, too.) his first winter by himself in seoul was spent blissfully free. donghan looked forward to never having to sing in a choir or hand out cheap pamphlets ever again.

needless to say, when he receives the text from his father on november 7th, he’s unhappy.

[ sms from: Father ] Donghan-ah. We’re holding back your cheque this month.

“what?” donghan hisses through his teeth, squinting at his phone. what did he do wrong this time? his grades have been decent, he hasn’t skipped classes – oh… does he know about all the parties? yikes. donghan’s heartrate speeds up a little as he prepares his text back, but his father replies first:

[ sms from: Father ] Unless you help us with something important. Do you remember Keychains for Santa?

donghan groans audibly, gathering some weird looks from the other students at the coffee shop where he’s studying. How could he forget? He only made, like, twelve whole clay santa-hat keychains that one year. it was the volunteer group his parents made him get involved in when he was in middle school, during their first year in seoul. the kids made and sold their own little keychains and all the profits went to a program that would buy and send christmas gifts to low-income families in poorer parts of the city (it was one of the only actually legitimate charities that the kim family was involved in.) but twelve-year-old donghan got himself banned from helping after he rebelled and made his own halloween-themed keychains instead of the santa hats because he thought it was stupid that they started selling christmas stuff so early.

[ sms from: Father ] They need someone to teach the kids how to make them. Your brother can’t do it because he’s running his first shareholders’ meeting this week. Did you hear about that, by the way? He’s doing really well.

yes, i did, multiple times actually, he replies, but the sass doesn’t come through properly in text – but he supposes that’s for his own good. fighting with his father right now is a bad idea considering how badly he wants that cheque. he reminds his father that he got kicked out as a kid, to which his dad replies that he knows and explains that their family friend is desperate and donghan is the last person on the list that they’ve asked for.

nice, donghan thinks, scowling, but he agrees to it anyway.

“why are they selling these so early? halloween just ended,” the boy in front of him (his nametag reads lee gyeonmin) is chattering. donghan laughs out loud, lightly, amused by how much the kid sounds like him.

“exactly,” donghan says, as he reaches forward to press down on the corner of the gyeonmin’s santa hat, where he’d forgotten to flatten it. “don’t forget to flatten out these edges, because they’ll break off after they bake these…”

it’s weird, how well he remembers this despite how much he disliked the volunteering at the time. he can vividly remember sitting in this corner of the downtown library, at these exact tables, arguing about the exact same things with his brother. at the time, there were more kids making keychains, but today there’s only the three preteens, two boys and one girl, and a younger seven-or-eight year old in front of donghan, himself, and an older volunteer overseeing everything.

“look at my snowflake!” the youngest, min dayeon, beams with two missing front teeth, holding it up for donghan to see. donghan gives her a thumbs up and smiles, choosing to ignore the fact that it’s lopsided.

“how much do we sell these for?” gyeonmin is asking cheerily, as he passes his hat to donghan for him to put the metal loop through. “is it a lot?”

“nah, it’s only a little bit.”

“how much are we getting paid?”

the resemblance to his younger self is uncanny, but donghan is slightly uncomfortable. he peers at the boy. “you don’t get paid. this is volunteering.” how did his parents not explain that to him beforehand? gyeonmin’s disappointed expression is strange.

the boy to the left of gyeonmin, park soobin, who is currently working on his fourth christmas tree, pipes up: “all the money we make goes to other kids. kids who need help with christmas, y’know? poorer kids.”

gyeonmin stops his crafting and looks up. there’s a frustrated look on his face as he furrows his brows a little: “why other kids?” donghan blinks, watching his face curiously, as the boy leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “how do they decide which kids need help and which ones don’t?”

is that anger in his voice? donghan isn’t sure what to say. he glances across at the older volunteer, who is talking to someone far enough away that he can’t hear what’s going on.

the little girl remains cheerfully oblivious as soobin slows his production and blinks in confusion over at gyeonmin. the other preteen, a shy girl, stares at them both. “what do you mean?” soobin asks, eyes innocent, as gyeonmin huffs and grabs another roll of clay, aggressively starting his next keychain.

“whatever.”

it’s evening now, and most of the parents have come to pick up the kids from the library. donghan has waved everyone off so far, half-heartedly thanking them for their hard work after taking their earnings and putting them in the little box held by the older volunteer. after the other three kids are gone, donghan notices gyeonmin alone, shrugging on his backpack and heading for the door by himself.

“yah—gyeonminnie,” donghan calls out, to which the boy only responds with an annoyed look over his shoulder. “where are you going? you’re supposed to wait for your parents—“

donghan had begun to suspect what’s next, so he’s not all that surprised when the boy replies with a cranky little “my parents aren’t coming.”

“ah.” donghan nods slowly. he’s a bit awkward – he normally doesn’t interact with children this much. in fact, his thoughts towards kids usually only extend to get out of my way and why are you so loud so the fact that he feels a twinge of sadness for this boy that he normally wouldn’t spare one nice thought for is strange. guilty is a new feeling.

he hasn’t interacted that much with people from poor families, either. but throughout the day, gyeonmin has given enough hints for donghan to put two-and-two together and he realizes that gyeonmin misunderstood the intent behind the volunteer event. something he had mentioned offhandedly earlier had disturbed donghan, because he’s never had to deal with something like it before: when they were talking about santa clause, gyeonmin said he and his eight-year-old sister had never been visited by santa before. it was obvious that gyeonmin was hoping that through making and selling these keychains he’d be able to help his sister. it made donghan feel bad for him which is, again, a pretty new feeling.

“what? can i go home?” the grumpy boy interrupts his thoughts. donghan nods, but he digs into his jacket pockets while holding up a ‘wait’ symbol with his free hand.

he fishes out a few bills. 40,000 won. it’s not a lot for donghan, but gyeonmin’s eyes go round. donghan hands it out. “here. you’re not technically supposed to be paid for today so don’t tell anyone, but—um, buy your sister a present if you can.”

he’s incredibly awkward, but if gyeonmin doesn’t notice this, he doesn’t care. he snatches the money and grins at donghan for the first time since that morning, bows, says thanks hyung a million times and then runs out.

donghan feels himself smiling, but he sighs. was that the right thing to do? or did he just teach a boy that volunteer work is pointless unless you get something out of it?

but if the warmth in his heart and the spring in his step is any indication, donghan thinks he must have done a pretty good thing (for once.)

he kind of likes the feeling.

#( it's too early for christmas stuff but i played it up as a joke in this solo )#( this came out of My Ass 15 min before work to save me dabs )#rkcharity #( * solo )

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xocriminal-minds-imaginesxo · 6 years

Text

Redamancy

A/N: This is a multi-shot. Let me know what you think!

Mad props to anyone who can tell me what the title means! (I googled obscure words)

Ella’s heart pounded hard in her chest as she fell to the ground and tried to scramble away from the attacker. She glanced quickly over her shoulder to see how close they were, but she saw nothing. What had pushed her? Who or what was chasing her? Sitting up she looked around the room confused and nervous. After a few moments she decided she was safe and took a breath, sighing in relief. Then something grabbed her arm, and she let out a blood curdling scream.

“Ella!” Luke’s hand was gripping Ella in an iron grasp, trying to wake her from the nightmare. Her eyes snapped open and she looked around at her colleagues on the jet, all eyes fixated on her. Their gazes ranged anywhere from confusion to concern.

“Sorry.” Ella panted out of breath, pushing the hair that was stuck to her sweat covered forehead back.

“That was a really tough case. Maybe you should consider talking to someone when we get back.” Emily spoke softly, and sincerely.

“What?” Ella pulled the elastic from her tangled red hair and began raking her fingers through it, trying to tame the wild curls. “Oh, no. I’ll be fine, it wasn’t the case.” Her voice was mumbled as she tried to speak while holding the hair band between her teeth.

“What was it about?” Spencer asked as he handed her a cup of tea.

“Thanks.” Ella grabbed the steaming mug from him after tightening the messy bun on top of her head and took a sip. “It was one of those dreams where in the dream you’re terrified, but then you wake up and are genuinely confused about why you were afraid. I was just running, like I was scared of something, but I never saw anything.��

Ella shrugged her shoulders and placed the mug to her lips once again, breathing a sigh of relief when the team didn’t ask any further questions. She met the gaze of Luke who was still sitting next to her, a concerned expression still slightly visible. Almost as if to say that he knew she was lying.

The jet landed, and the team meandered begrudgingly back to the bull pen where the paperwork needed to begin. Ella dropped her go bag and embraced the blonde woman waiting for her at her desk.

“I heard it was a tough case for you.” Penelope squeezed her tightly and Ella nodded her head.

“Yeah, it’s always rough when it hits so close to home like that, but I’ll be ok. My family was kept safe and none of us got hurt, it’s a win in my book.” Ella smiled graciously at her friend.

“Well, I brought everybody coffee because I knew you would be tired having left so early in the morning.” Penelope moved to the side and revealed the beverage tray of everybody’s orders.

“Oh, Garcia! That’s so awesome of you!” JJ smiled and pulled her into a hug.

“Oh please, my favorite crime fighters need their sustenance!” She expertly began handing out all the orders. “JJ, Emily, Reid, Rossi, Ella, and…. Newbie.” Luke laughed and took the coffee from her hands and held it up in an ironic cheers motion.

“I’ve been here for two years now Garcia you think you coul-“

A chorus of no’s resounded from the other team members and Luke dropped his head but chuckled. After Garcia had gifted everyone their beverage of choice it was time to get to work. Ella manned her station and got started.

After closing the last file, Ella leaned back in her chair and let out a sigh of relief. She moved her head from side to side smiling at the sound of all the pops and cracks her neck released.

“Sounded like you just broke your neck.” JJ said with a hint of disgust in her voice. Ella twirled her chair around to face her coworker who was already facing her. “You done?”

“Yes ma’am.” Ella looked down at her watch, “and I think it’s a new record. I love when we get home from cases in the morning.”

“How are you finished, I still have three files.” Spencer sounded exasperated.

“Three! I have seven!” Luke groaned and flopped back in his chair. Ella shrugged her shoulders and looked at her coworkers. She grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from her desk.

“Tell you what, I’ll go get lunch.” She took the paper up to Emily and Rossi’s offices to take their orders before coming back and getting JJ, Spencer, and Luke.

“I’m coming with you, I need a break.” Luke rose from his chair and stretching his arms above his head, letting out a yawn.

“Alright, but we have to go get Garcia’s order first.” Ella grabbed her sweater off the back of her chair and the two walked down to the bat cave. “Hey, we’re going to get lunch.” Penelope’s eyes looked from you to Luke and she smiled brightly.

“Like together?” She questioned eagerly.

“No, like for the team.” Ella raised an eyebrow. “What do you want.” Garcia’s face fell as she told them her order. Ella rolled her eyes, then she and Luke were on their way.

They walked in companionable silence for a few blocks. The crisp fall breeze rustling through the orange and yellow leaves. Ella looked around smiling brightly, fall was her favorite season of them all. She shivered and wrapped her sweater tightly around her. Luke took off his sweater and handed it to her.

“I’m already wearing one, and you’ll get cold.” Ella protested.

“I’ll be fine, your teeth are chattering, put it on.” He wrapped it around her shoulders and she slipped her arms into the sleeves, immediately feeling much warmer.

“Thank you.” She smiled.

“So are you going to tell me what really happened on the jet today?” His voice was nonchalant, as though he had just asked her what her favorite song was.

“I already told you guys, what happened.” Ella crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked down at the cement.

“Look, we’re all entitled to our secrets. I have mine, and I know that everyone else on this team has secrets of their own. I just… if you want to talk about it, you can.”

They returned to the BAU about ten minutes later with everybody’s order in bags. While on the elevator, Ella searched through the bags for Garcia’s since she was down the hall from everybody else. The elevator doors opened, and Ella reached out and grabbed Luke’s arm before he could open the glass door. Luke swiveled around and met her gaze. She pursed her lips and stared at the floor for a moment before looking back to him.

“Thanks.” She murmured softly. Luke put his hand on her elbow and squeezed gently, without saying a word and she nodded. “Alright, let’s deliver lunch.”

Ella walked down the hall to Garcia’s office and stepped inside smiling brightly. It’s impossible not to smile when you look around at all the trinkets and collections Penelope has littered around her desk. It was an organized chaos of cheer.

“Oh good your back I wa-“Garcia spun around in her chair and froze, an eyebrow raised. “Is that Luke’s sweater?” Her hot pink lips were spreading into a giant grin.

“Yeah…” Ella was confused. “I got cold on the way to the shop and he lent it to me. It’s freezing out there today.”

“Oh my sweet little cherry blossom.” Garcia stood up from her chair and placed a hand on Ella’s cheek, who was now more confused than ever. “You do know he’s totally into right?”

“What?” Ella’s voice came out in almost a shriek. “No way! What are you talking about?” Garcia rolled her eyes.

“Whenever we go to the conference room, he always has to sit next to you.”

“That’s usually the only chair that’s left.” Ella protested

“Because everyone knows and they leave it open for him, I mean JJ and I have talked about this multiple times. I wish you could see the looks he gives you when you aren’t looking, they’re melt worthy. He always goes the extra mile for you, and he tries to spend as much time as possible with you. I guarantee you, had it been JJ or Spencer who decided to go on a lunch run, he wouldn’t have gone. He’s protective of you, he obviously cares about you, and his eyes totally light up when you walk into a room.” Garcia rambled. Ella scrunched her eyebrows together a little confused. Though she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder, down the hall, where Luke had sat down to get back to work.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #imagine #criminal minds imagine #cm imagine #luke alvez #luke alvez fanfiction #spencer reid #jj jareau #emily prentiss #david rossi #short story #fanfiction

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shawol9196 · 6 years

Text

Witch AU 7/?: Linteum

Just as he goes to tap his shoulder, Minho opens his eye. “Who called?” he whispers. “Someone named Siwon. Says they have a big fortune telling job but they only want it if you can work it.”

(Warnings: Rated BDM for blood, mentions of dying, and magic)

Early in the morning, just before opening, there’s a phone call to the shop. Jinki almost misses it, still half asleep.

“Hello, Five Witches Emporium. How may I help you?”

“I hear that your shop offers fortune telling.”

“Yes, we do. We have two tellers on our staff. Myself and another.”

“This is a big job.”

“Our other fortune teller has a strong gift, though we might have to work together in order for it to be clear.”

“Your other fortune teller, is it Choi’s boy?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I used to see Choi before. If it’s Choi’s boy, I trust you.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Can I come in today?”

“Will you hold for a moment? I need to ask about his schedule.”

“That’s fine.”

“What’s your name, so I can take it down in case the call gets disconnected?”

“Siwon.”

“Siwon what?”

“Just Siwon.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Jinki sets the phone down next to the receiver and knocks on the hatch door. It’s early -- very early -- and he feels bad waking Minho up over this. But a big job means big payment and they’re getting low on money again. He climbs down the ladder and quietly makes his way over to the bed. Looking at the way that Minho and Ki are sleeping tangled up, he knows there isn’t much chance that he’ll be able to wake just one up. Just as he goes to tap his shoulder, Minho opens his eye.

“Who called?” he whispers.

“Someone named Siwon. Says they have a big fortune telling job but they only want it if you can work it.”

“Why me?”

“He said he used to go to your dad.”

Minho furrows his brow and sighs. He slowly begins disentangling himself from Ki’s hold; when Ki stirs, Minho kisses their cheek and tells them to go back to sleep. He gets up out of bed and heads to his bookshelf, reaching for something off the top shelf.

“What’s that?”

“A registry. My papa kept a log of everyone he told important fortunes for.”

Jinki watches Minho flip through the book.

“It’s odd, if he used to go to your dad but has never come to see you before now? Your dad’s been gone what, 23 years?”

Minho hums, seemingly finding what he’s looking for.

“I can do it.”

“Do what?”

“The fortune. I’ll need your help but I can do it.”

“He wants to know if he can come in today.”

“That’s fine.”

Minho puts the book back and heads back towards bed.

“Let me know when he decides he wants to come. I’m going to try and get a little more sleep beforehand.”

Jinki nods and heads back up to the shop level.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“He says today is good with him. When would you like to come in?”

It’s just after 4pm when Siwon comes into the shop. He walks up to the counter where Jinki and Jonghyun are trying to eat a snack.

“Are you the person I spoke to on the phone this morning?”

“Yes. You must be Siwon?”

“Yes. Are you and Choi’s boy ready?”

“Minho will be up in a moment. You can look around the shop if you like or I can take you to the reading room to wait, whichever you would prefer.”

“The reading room will be sufficient.”

Jinki leads the way behind the counter, into the back hallway into the reading room. The room is technically dual purpose: it served both as a quiet space for readings like this and as a sort of tinkering room for Jinki. The walls are covered in dark velvet, candles sitting on trays all around the floor.

“If you’ll sit on the cushion closer to the door, we’ll be in in just a moment. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come back out.”

Siwon goes to the seat and Jinki walks back to the counter.

“What a creepy guy.” Jonghyun whispers.

Jinki nods and knocks on the hatch door. After a moment, Minho comes up.

“Is he here?”

Jinki nods. Minho walks over to Jonghyun and kisses his cheek.

“Are you watching the shop for us?” he asks.

“Yup.”

“Will you keep my amulet for me, sweets?”

“Yup!”

Minho pulls his amulet off and puts it on Jonghyun. He gives him another cheek kiss before following Jinki into the reading room. Jinki gets situated across from Siwon as Minho lights the candles.

“You look remarkably like your father.” Siwon says, watching Minho get situated.

“Thank you, it’s a common sentiment.”

“I assume your power isn’t quite as strong, however, if you need a second teller to help you.”

Anger crosses Jinki’s mind at the comment. First the man wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t Minho, then insults Minho’s ability. He goes to say something but Minho puts a hand on his shoulder.

“My father was only skilled at foresight, as I’m sure you know. I, on the other hand, have multiple skills. They just make each other a little more chaotic. I could tell you your fortune alone, but it’s easier and quicker for both of us if Jinki is also here.”

Siwon seems dissatisfied with the answer. “I’m here to ask you about-”

“You don’t have to tell me. I’ll know when we begin.”

Jinki holds out his hands and Siwon takes them. He gets a glimpse of a group of men; a stone table; pages and pages and pages of runes. Minho sits behind Jinki and puts his hands over Jinki’s eyes. The images blur and meld together as if put into a kaleidoscope. Minho’s body goes tense but it takes a minute longer before he begins speaking.

“You’re searching for someone. A coven. They’ve done questionable things in the past, but you’re worried that it’s going too far. People have been disappearing and turning up bone dry. You’ve had run ins with them before, intervened before. You’re the great grandson of a self proclaimed witch hunter. So in his memory you’ve taken it upon yourself to continue the job, taking out only those who seek to do pure harm. This coven does true blood magic, dark magic. Things no one does anymore. You have a chance to kill their leader, but you want to know if it will do any good and if you will be killed yourself in doing so.”

“Yes, yes that’s it!” Siwon says. He sounds excited, almost pleased by Minho’s words.

“The one you think you can kill is not their leader. He’s a figurehead, a youth intended to bring vigor to the ironhand and renew purpose in the group. The leader is already dying. He is the reason they’re trying to pursue such dark lanes. They’re attempting to immortalize him, but it must be done before he dies. If you kill the figurehead, they will succeed. If you do not kill the figurehead, they may succeed. They’re looking for something. For someone. They cannot complete the task without it.”

“What is it? Who is it?”

“A member of my coven.”

Jinki’s heart sinks when he hears the words.

“If I protect them, if the leader dies, then all will turn out best?”

“Yes. There are other options but they do not know of them.”

Siwon pulls his hands out of Jinki’s and the vision swirls away. Minho doesn’t move his hands away right away so Jinki helps him. There’s a feeling of something dripping on the top of Jinki’s head and he turns around to see that Minho’s got a nosebleed. He helps Minho put a hand up to try and stop the flow before heading out to get a cloth from the counter. Neither have moved when he comes back in. Siwon appears to want to say something, but waits until Minho’s set with his cloth.

“Which member of your coven do they need?” he asks.

“Our potion maker, Ki.” Jinki explains. “They were a part of that coven before. They took advantage of their youth, made some cloudy promises to them. That coven, they’ve been looking for Ki for more than 5 years now. Their leader must be getting close to dying, they’ve been upping their efforts recently.”

“What do they need Ki for?”

“They need blood of a certain magical potency. Certain qualities to it.” Minho says, finally getting control.

“So they need them as a sacrifice?”

“Yes.”

“You spoke of other options?”

“They don’t know them.”

“Yes, but what are they?”

“Me.”

***

Minho wakes up early again the next day. His nose still hurts from the day before, but it’s manageable and a lot better than what Jinki must be dealing with. He’s not surprised to see Jonghyun tending the front counter when he goes upstairs.

“You did a number on my man yesterday,” Jonghyun comments when Minho kisses his cheek.

“I did a number on myself, too. How is he doing?”

“He’s still sleeping but only because Tae charmed him.”

“How’s Tae?”

“Fine. Feminine today. Are you and Gwi still going shopping today?”

“Yeah, as far as I know.”

“Will you do me a favor and take Tae with you? They’re nervous that they’re going to make bad fashion choices and I think I know less about fashion than you do.”

“I’ll check with Gwi but it should be fine. You going to stay with Jinki?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be afraid to close early, sweets. Jinki and I made more money yesterday than we normally do in 2 months.”

Money in hand, Minho, Tae and Gwi make their way to the secondhand clothes shop. It’s a fair distance, but the weather is nice so it’s a pleasant walk. Though Minho would love to buy them both brand new clothes, neither of them are quite ready to commit to that yet. When they enter, the shopkeeper waves to them.

“Minho! Hello!”

“Hello, Hodong. How are you today?”

“Good! Can I help you with something?”

Minho gestures to where Tae and Gwi are already looking through a rack. “We’re here for them to find some new clothes.”

“Ahh, I see. Luckily, we got a lot of things yesterday. If there’s anything I can help with let me know.” he says, to Gwi and Tae.

They nod and smile and Hodong turns back to Minho.

“Sihoo’s been doing a lot better. He’s really really improved since we started giving him the potion, his pain has really gone down. I’d have him come out to see you, but he’s at home sleeping.”

“I’m glad to hear it’s working. Are you hoping to be able to put him back in school or do you think staying at home will be easier?”

“We haven’t decided yet.”

Minho nods, watching Gwi and Tae squabble over a shirt out of the corner of his eye.

“Forgive me for asking, but aren’t they from your shop?”

“Yup. Their appearance changes though, so we’re getting them some stuff to accommodate that.”

“Oh. If you want, you three can use the sorting room as a dressing room. I’m assuming you’re here because they want your opinions. I don’t mind, as long as you all don’t try anything funny.”

“Really? That’d be great. I really appreciate it, Hodong.”

“Alright, well I need to get back to work. Have fun, let me know if you need help.”

Minho nods and watches Hodong head back to the shoe section of the store. He makes his way over to Gwi and Tae, taking note of Tae’s already sizable pile of potential picks.

“Having fun?” he asks.

“Mostly.”

“Alright. Hodong said we can use the sorting room as a dressing room so you guys can change at the same time and don’t have to keep opening the door to show me. I’m going to go sit down by the window, just let me know when you’re ready to start trying things on.”

After half an hour, Gwi is ready; Tae is still browsing around, cart slowly overflowing with clothing. Gwi comes over to where Minho’s almost asleep again in the window chair.

“I’m ready, would you come with me so I can try things on? Tae’s going to need a lot of help with the pile.”

Minho leads Gwi to the sorting room, carrying their pile of clothes. It doesn’t take long for them to try it on: most of it is dresses, with a few skirts thrown in. Their mind is already made up on which pieces to get, Minho’s approval more of a formality and a second quality check. It warms his heart to see how happy Gwi looks in each piece. He claps often, making effort to ensure each reaction is as grand and validating and earnest as possible. Gwi is glowing by the end. Just as Gwi finishes, there’s a knock at the door and Tae peeks in. They bring in two carts worth of clothes and Gwi and Minho share a look. Gwi hands their things to Minho to hold then walks to the nearer of the carts.

“Did you even look at the sizing on these, little one?” Gwi asks, seemingly exasperated.

“I didn’t know what size to get so I just grabbed things that look pretty!”

As Gwi starts digging through the pile, determining what pieces are within an acceptable size range, Minho can’t help but notice Tae’s increasing gloom. He holds his hands out towards them and after a moment of consideration they hold them.

“The first time is always hard, but it’ll get easier. There’s nothing wrong with picking out pretty things. My pretty babes deserve pretty things to wear.”

It seems to lift Tae’s spirits enough that they don’t get upset when Gwi takes a full cart of clothes back out. Gwi helps them put each piece on, offering critiques to match and contrast Minho’s compliments. In the end, Tae only gets a handful of items. Selections in hand, they meet Hodong at the register. There’s pleasant small talk once again until Minho feels Gwi’s grip on his hand tighten past painful. He looks towards the window and notices a hooded figure starting in the shop. As Minho wraps an arm around Gwi to hide them better from sight, the figure’s cloak seems to burst into flames and they run off shrieking.

“That was close,” Tae whispers.

From the way they hiccup, Minho knows it was their spell; one of the little quirks that come out with no song, only feeling. Hodong seems perplexed at their sudden change in demeanor and does his best to hurry checking them out.

The walk home is much less pleasant than the walk to the store, all three on the verge of paranoia. Gwi walks in the middle of Tae and Minho, holding their arms tightly. Though it’s no surprise when Tae begins to hum a protection spell, they are mildly surprised when Minho joins in. It’s nowhere near the haunting beauty of Jonghyun and Jinki’s songs but there is an earthy comfort in the harmony and helps them relax during the walk home. As soon as they get inside, Minho rushes up to Jinki. They touch hands for what seems like a brief moment then head off in different directions: Gwi was always jealous of the mutual mindreading, of the instantaneous plan making. They watch asMinho pulls Tae and Jonghyun over towards the front of the shop to enchant the walls and add extra protection while Jinki heads behind the counter to make a call.

“Hello, Siwon? This is Jinki from Five Witches Emporium. We have a proposition we’d like to discuss with you.”

#wau #wau writing #writing #ot5 #minho #jinki #kibum #taemin #jonghyun #genderfluid!kibum #gwiboon #genderfluid!taemin #taeyeon #blood mention #magic mention #death mention

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cj-jacobs · 6 years

Text

The Sex Elf

(Bechloe one-shot, 10k words)

Merry Pitchmas, awesome nerds! I didn’t do the official Secret Santa thing because I was so paranoid I wouldn’t get this done in time and didn’t want to disappoint anyone, but I’d like to gift it to the Bechloe fandom in general, and most especially as a surprise gift to @annakendrick4ever , because she’s been so supportive of my fics and is just an all-around sweetheart. I hope everyone who celebrates Christmas had a great holiday!

Not for the first time tonight, Beca finds herself wondering if it’s wrong to be this horny on Christmas Eve.

Because it feels wrong. Dirty, somehow. Not seasonally appropriate. After all, Christmas is supposed to be about wholesome, childlike, non-sexual things. Family things.

But then, the whole notion of family is precisely what’s put her into this situation, Beca muses, as she clumsily wields a screwdriver in an attempt to secure the wheel onto a doll stroller intended for her four-year-old daughter. Family, and the fact that in approximately five months theirs - hers and Chloe’s - is set to expand by two. And, most crucially, the fact that she’s the one carrying those two, and thus the one dealing with all the crazy, out of control hormones that pregnancy has brought in its wake.

For the ninth or tenth time in the past fifteen minutes, Beca finds her gaze drawn against her will to the other side of the master bedroom, where Chloe is wrapping presents, using their king size bed as her table. She’s got all her materials laid out on it; shopping bags full of gifts, ribbons, bows, tags, scissors and tape, boxes, and half a dozen rolls of wrapping paper, chosen specifically for color variety. But it’s not the paper or the presents that are drawing Beca’s attention, it’s Chloe herself. From here, Beca can only see her from the back. She’s dressed in a dark green romper printed with tiny red and white candy canes. In addition to this, she’s sporting fuzzy Christmas socks, dangly snowflake earrings, and a headband with a pair of perky cloth reindeer antlers. The fact that in spite of this ridiculous ensemble, Beca finds herself gazing at her lustfully says a lot about the current state of her libido.

Because no matter how hard she tries, her mind keeps sliding right back to sex. Her entire body is suffused with a kind of sensual energy like nothing she’s ever felt before, and it’s never satisfied for long. The fact that she’s already partaken of some afternoon delight today means nothing, because that was hours and hours ago, and these days the urges cycle back around continuously, with no let-up, multiple times every day.

Idly, she finds herself wondering, Is this what Stacie feels like all the time? Is that why she-

No. Picturing Stacie’s sex life is not going to help. Dolls. Strollers. Christmas. Wholesome family things. That’s what she needs to be thinking about. Focus, she commands herself.

“How’s it goin’ over there, Mrs. Claus?” Chloe calls to her, as if sensing her distraction.

Beca surveys her work. “You know, I’m pretty sure the only reason my mom sent an unassembled toy is because the thought of me doing this in the middle of the night was hilarious to her.”

Chloe smiles. “Or,” she suggests tolerantly, “maybe it’s because that kind is cheaper, and that’s all she could afford.”

“Nah,” Beca rejects this idea. “This is payback, for all the Christmas Eves she didn’t get any sleep. See, every year she tried to get us to celebrate Hanukkah instead, and we never would take the bait. I’m telling you, this is a revenge gift. She is one sadistic woman.”

Laughing a little, Chloe reflects after a few seconds, “I think it’s just, like, a law of parenting, though, right? That we have to spend at least one Christmas Eve trying to assemble a toy?”

“Maybe. Except we aren’t assembling it. I am.”

“Hey. I’m busy over here, too,” she chides her.

Indeed she is. Beca finds herself trying and failing once again not to look as Chloe bends over the bed to cut another segment of wrapping paper, the tightness of the romper clinging to and perfectly accentuating her curves. Beca watches as she runs a pair of scissors down the middle of a sheet of glittery silver paper in a straight line. Normally this sound is one that for no particular reason grates on her nerves, like fingernails on a chalkboard. But tonight it sounds almost lewd. At the moment everything seems specifically designed to work on her hormones, not her nerves.

The funny thing is, she’d never wanted to be pregnant. In fact, until just a few months ago, she would have been adamant that it was the one life experience above all others she was determined never to go through. But then she’d changed her mind. She’s still not entirely sure why.

Because after Violet, she and Chloe had basically accepted that they’d never have another one. The pregnancy had been difficult; Chloe was sick a lot in the beginning, then the end had come abruptly, six weeks early, and Beca had spent a harrowing few days at the hospital with a premature baby and an unconscious wife, wondering if her life as she knew it was about to end. By some miracle, everything had turned out fine. Fine, that is, except for one small thing. Chloe had been warned by her doctor that another pregnancy wouldn’t be a good idea. At the time, it had seemed like a small price to pay.

But yet, here they are. Expecting not just one, but - in the most shocking news of their lives - two more.

And to everyone’s surprise, no one’s more than her own, Beca has found that pregnancy agrees with her. Not only has she not been sick, not even once, and not only is she possessed of more energy and a better mood than usual, but her sex drive has shot through the roof. Actually, one might even say it’s starting to be a bit of a problem. Needing sex so many times a day has its downsides. It’s convenient that her studio is located here on the property, which means it’s easy to duck in for a brief tryst, but having a four-year-old who’s not yet in school makes things more complicated. Violet’s three mornings a week at daycare and her daily two p.m. naptime have become blessed interludes of carnal indulgence.

Beca finds her thoughts wandering back to this afternoon’s session, her body remembering just how it had felt to be pinned under Chloe and clinging to the headboard as she…. No. That’s not going to help either. Shaking her head a little to clear the lust fog, she forces herself to focus on the damn doll stroller. It takes every ounce of her concentration to make sense out of instructions like Squeeze the metal bracket on the wheel to open it, slip the wheel onto the end of the rod, and release the bracket. She’s not even one hundred percent positive she knows what the hell a bracket is, and the words squeeze and slip look like porn in her current state of mind. But she’s doing her best.

Finally, the last wheel seems to be locked into place. “Okay. Moment of truth.” She practically holds her breath as she gives the pink stroller an experimental push forward, then pulls it back, making sure it rolls properly. “I think it’s finished. Thank God.”

“No pieces left over?” Chloe asks.

Beca looks into the box. There are approximately nine pieces left over. “Nope.” She strategically covers them with the instruction sheets. “We’re good.”

Wincing as her stiff muscles protest, she pulls herself up from the floor. “But, um, just to be on the safe side, let’s make sure we never put an actual baby in this thing.”

Chloe has also paused briefly in her assembly-line gift wrapping. She’s sipping from a glass of red wine, looking at the bed as if measuring how much is left to do. Beca approaches behind her and presses herself up against her back, wrapping her arms around her. Chloe sighs a little and leans back into her, bringing her free hand up to squeeze Beca’s arm.

Though her stomach is only just beginning to pop out, the roundness subtle enough that if she wears a baggy shirt it’s not even that noticeable, standing like this, Beca can feel the difference. Odd to think that in another few months, she won’t be able to stand like this at all. She presses herself even tighter against Chloe, to take advantage of it while she can. Nuzzling up into the spot just behind her ear, she murmurs, “Have I ever told you how sexy you look in those reindeer antlers?”

“What reindeer antlers?” Then Chloe gasps, her mouth forming an O of surprise. She suddenly reaches up and yanks the felt antlers from her head. “Oh my God, I forgot I had these on!”

Beca gives a loud laugh. “Seriously?”

“How long have I been wearing these?”

“Like, all day.”

She marvels at the antlers, amazed. “No wonder the Fed Ex guy was giving me such a weird look.” She tosses them aside, jokingly accusatory. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you knew. It’s not like it’s the strangest thing you’ve ever done on Christmas Eve. Remember the year you put jingle bells in your bra?”

Chloe giggles a little at the memory as she takes another sip of wine. “That was a good Christmas.”

With her arms still wrapped around her from behind, and using the subject as an opportunity, Beca now unfastens the top few buttons of the romper and slips a hand in, wondering, “Anything in there this year? Oh, wow. Not even a bra.”

“I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not gonna work,” Chloe informs her with a grin, although she leans back against Beca and makes no move to stop her.

“I’m trying to feel you up. And, I think it already did work.”

“You know what I mean. I’m not gonna let you distract me. Not tonight.”

“Can’t you take a break? I need you,” Beca whines, trying to make it sound like joke begging instead of actual begging, which it is.

“Babe, look at the time. Santa’s on the clock, here.”

Beca glances at the digital clock next to the bed, shocked to see that it’s almost three in the morning. “We shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to do all this,” she mutters petulantly against Chloe’s shoulder.

“I know, but everything’s been so crazy. And a lot of my spare time lately has been taken up by someone demanding sex.”

“Really?” Beca asks. “Who?”

“That would be the person whose hand is currently in my shirt.”

“Oh, her.”

“Yes, her. And she’s not gonna be too happy about this, but I have to get back to work now,” Chloe sets her wineglass aside on the trunk at the foot of the bed and delicately removes the hand from her shirt, over Beca’s sad-sounding protests. As if to compensate her for the loss, Chloe turns to kiss her.

Sensing her opportunity, Beca tries to make the most of the kiss, but she’s distracted by another, non-sexual craving.

“Mmm, I can taste the wine on your mouth,” she murmurs against Chloe’s lips.

Chloe seems bemused. “You don’t even like wine.”

“No, but I like alcohol. And I miss it.” She pulls her back in for another deep kiss. She can feel Chloe actively trying to resist letting things heat up beyond a certain level, but at the same time Chloe is such a good kisser that it’s hard for her to fight her natural instincts. Beca tries to take advantage of her internal battle, using her tongue in a precise and practiced way that draws Chloe into being the aggressor. It works for a few seconds, but then Chloe seems to realize what she’s doing, and she uses all her willpower to pull back and break the kiss.

“Really?” Beca asks.

“Really.” Then Chloe cups Beca’s face in her hands, briefly leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. “But maybe later, okay?”

Beca sighs, apparently giving in.

But just then Chloe jumps a little, turning to glance behind her and down toward her ass. “What was that? Did you just pinch me?”

“What? No. Why would I- ?” Beca makes a face of exaggerated innocence. Then she seems to think of something. “But, oh, you know what I bet it was? I bet it was the sex elf.”

Chloe tilts her head. “The what, now?”

“You’ve… never heard of the sex elf? For real? That’s insane. I thought everyone knew about this.”

Crossing her arms, Chloe plays along, waiting for her to explain.

“The sex elf is that little creature that goes around on Christmas Eve, pinching people. And when you get pinched, you become overwhelmingly aroused. And you have to get laid, like, right then. You have no choice.”

“Really. This is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t know about this.”

Chloe narrows her eyes in mock seriousness. “Are you sure that’s not leprechauns you’re thinking of?”

“What? No.” Beca makes a disgusted face. “Gross. Leprechauns are, like, ugly little Irish dudes. Who care way too much about the color green. The sex elf is hot. And, frankly, she prefers it if you’re not wearing anything.”

“Oh, so the sex elf is female?”

“Well,” Beca shrugs. “Yeah. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Chloe agrees. She smiles and then leans forward for one more light kiss, getting Beca’s hopes up. “Well, it was really sweet of her to pay us a visit. It’s too bad she couldn’t have stuck around to help with some of this.” She gestures at the gift-wrapping mess.

“Yeah.” Beca grimaces. “I think she’s really just… more about the sex?”

Chloe nods, amused, but then looks regretful. “Beca?”

Beca waits, giving her an expectant, somewhat pleading look.

“It’s not gonna happen,” Chloe whispers, dashing all her hopes.

Momentarily accepting defeat, Beca sighs heavily and drops onto the bed, stretching out directly on top of Chloe’s present-wrapping workshop. “Fine,” she sulks.

“But, you know, if you’re bored, you could help me finish this up,” Chloe suggests.

“Uuhhh,” she moans. “You know I hate wrapping presents, dude. I’m carrying your children! Isn’t that enough?”

“Oh my God,” Chloe laughs at her. “Enjoy that excuse while it lasts.” But she doesn’t insist.

Beca tries to relax and coerce her body into a zone of patience, but now that she’s actually lying on the bed, the urge to touch herself is nearly overpowering. It hasn’t been this strong since she was sixteen and puberty finally slammed into her with the finesse of a car crash. She sits up again, crossing her arms and tucking her hands away to keep them out of trouble. Not that Chloe would mind. But she has a feeling that trying to get herself off while her wife ignores her and wraps presents for a four-year-old would be not so much sexy as pathetic.

Instead, she watches Chloe work, pondering the absurdity of being awake in the middle of the night wrapping gifts in paper that’s going to be torn off and thrown away in less than six hours. Being a parent is strange. But it’s pointless to question it.

Chloe has her own distinctive manner of wrapping presents, a way of folding the paper which is like nothing Beca has ever seen any human being do before. Somehow, the packages always end up looking great. But like so much else that she does, Chloe goes about it using a bizarre method she seems to have invented on her own, as if no one ever taught her the normal way to do it. Momentarily distracted from her lust, Beca finds herself watching with amused fascination as she finishes taping up the paper on one gift, then with a flourish adds a stick-on bow - not in the center, but in one corner.

Shaking her head with a fond smile, Beca mutters, “You’re so weird.”

Turning to set the package on a pile of already-wrapped boxes in a chair beside the bed, Chloe lets out a breath of relief. “There.”

Beca perks up, hopeful. “That’s it? You’re done?”

“Well, I’m not done done. I’m done with the big stuff. There’s still all the stocking stuffers.” She lifts a plastic bag from the floor near the side of the bed and turns it upside down over the comforter. Approximately thirty small items tumble out.

“What?” Beca looks at her like she’s crazy. “You’re not gonna wrap all those, are you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Chlo, they’re stocking stuffers. The stocking is the wrapping. That’s the whole point.”

Chloe shakes her head. “No, because then when she dumps it out, she’ll be able to see all of it at once. Where’s the surprise, where’s the anticipation? I want her to have to open each one, individually.”

“Oh my God, that’s-” Beca digs her fingers into her own hair and vigorously shakes her head, making a clenched-teeth sound like “Mrrrmmm.” It’s the sound she makes when she’s trying to keep herself from saying something she’ll regret. After restraining her worst impulses, she drops her hands and settles for, “You know that’s gonna take forever, right?”

“I don’t care how long it takes,” Chloe says stubbornly. “We’ve got all day.”

Beca lifts one of the items from the pile. “You’re gonna wrap these socks?”

“Mm-hm.”

She picks up another item. “This roll of Sweetarts?”

Chloe nods. “Yep.”

“You’re gonna wrap this lip balm. This one, individual tube of lip balm.”

“That’s right,” Chloe confirms, and because there’s a slight edge to her tone now, Beca decides she should probably back off. She carefully sets the lip balm back onto the pile, suppressing an eye roll like a good girl.

While Chloe starts in on the stocking stuffers, Beca reaches over and grabs her phone off the nightstand to check her messages. There’s a handful of Merry Christmas texts from the Bellas, nothing out of the ordinary. The one from Aubrey, however, makes Beca narrow her eyes in suspicion. It reads Merry Christmas Beca! Hope this one leaves you satisfied ;) ;)

Setting the phone back on the nightstand, she ponders the meaning of this for a few seconds.

“Hey,” she says casually. “You didn’t tell Aubrey about my whole… horniness… issue, did you?”

“Of course not.” But Chloe doesn’t look at her.

“Because I just got a weird text from her. And, now that I’m thinking about it, I’m pretty sure I overheard you on the phone earlier saying something about a… what were the words? Crazy little sex fiend.”

Chloe shakes her head slightly and frowns, but still doesn’t glance up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Beca studies her face for a few seconds, taking note of how hard she’s now trying not to laugh, and the continued lack of eye contact. “You did!” she suddenly gasps, letting her mouth fall open in pretend shock. “Dude, you told her?!”

“Beca,” Chloe protests, finally looking up at her. “Come on. Aubrey’s my best friend. I tell her everything!”

“About our love life?”

“It’s not like she’s gonna judge you. She’s been pregnant before, she knows about the hormones.”

“Okay, wow.” Beca plays up her mock outrage, a hand on her heart. “I can not believe that you would betray the sanctity of our marriage like that. Honestly? There’s only one way that you could ever make this up to me.”

“Hmm,” Chloe muses, snipping off a length of ribbon. “And what way would that be?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” Beca tells her. “It involves you taking off your clothes. Right now.”

Attempting to tie the ribbon around one of the stocking stuffers, Chloe responds only with a slightly pitying look.

“No? Damn it,” Beca mutters. “I thought the guilt trip was the way to go.” She thinks for a few seconds, trying to come up with a more effective angle. Then she suddenly asks, “Is it just me, or is it really hot in here?” As she says these words she slowly pulls off her shirt, leaving her in nothing but a pair of sweatpants and a lacy black bra.

“Nope.” Pressing her lips together to try to stifle a smile, Chloe shakes her head and concentrates on her battle with the ribbon. “I’m ignoring you.”

“Really? You can ignore this?” Beca cups her own breasts and pushes them together and up, trying to create some amplified cleavage.

As if to prove her right, Chloe glances up at her, again trying not to laugh.“Why are you wearing one of your sexy bras under your pajamas?”

“Because a girl needs to be prepared. Especially when her wife is resisting her seduction attempts.”

“Oh, is that what this is?” Chloe teases her. “A seduction? See, I didn’t get that.”

“Well, now you know.”

She snips out a small rectangle of paper, just big enough to wrap a toothbrush in. “You know what this is, Beca?” she says reflectively, pointing at her with the scissors. “It’s karma. For all those years I tried to get into your pants in college, and you wouldn’t let me.”

Beca widens her eyes with pretend dismay. “That is so twisted! For most of that time, I didn’t even think you were serious, I thought you were just messing with me.” She’s quiet for a second, as if considering how much she wants to reveal. A little awkwardly, she admits, “It’s not like I never thought about it. I had some pretty inappropriate dreams over the years.”

“Really?” Chloe looks intrigued. “You never told me that.”

Pursing her lips, Beca nods. After a pause, she adds, “First one was after the shower thing.”

“What? That was only the second time we met! Even I didn’t have a sex dream that early.”

“Yep. What can I say?” Beca shrugs. “Guess my dream self is kind of a slut.” She considers. “And, now, apparently, so is my awake self. Which could end at any time. So…” she holds her arms and gives a little shimmy of invitation, “you might want to get on this, while it lasts.”

“Well, that is hard to resist, when you put it so romantically.”

“Right?”

“But I think I’m still gonna have to finish these presents.”

Beca gives a dramatic groan at yet another failure. “You are killing me, lady.”

After another few minutes of watching her, Beca decides to try some props. She picks up a long tubular roll of wrapping paper and holds it so that it springs up from between her legs. “What about this? Does this do anything for ya?”

Chloe looks over at her, teasing, “If it did, it would be bad news for you.” She reaches out and snatches away the roll of paper. “Give me that, I need it.”

As it’s yanked away Beca hisses sharply and stares down at her left hand. “You bitch. You gave me a papercut!”

“Aww. Poor baby.” But she doesn’t sound particularly sympathetic.

“Ow.” Beca stares down at the shallow cut between her fingers, musing, “Why is this making me even more turned on? Am I into this? Maybe this is my kink.” She looks up at Chloe and asks in a flirtatious tone, “You want to give me another one?”

“Don’t tempt me,” she smiles, picking up her wine glass and draining what’s left of it, as though dealing with Beca’s current mood requires all the alcohol available. “Although…” she says after a few seconds, biting her bottom lip as an idea occurs to her. She sets the empty wine glass aside. “Speaking of kinks.” Now she bends forward over the bed, balancing herself with one hand on the mattress, her face coming tantalizingly close to Beca’s. She lets her voice drop into a breathy, lascivious register. “You know what would make me really, really hot right now?”

Beca watches nearly hypnotized as she approaches, staring first at her eyes and then at her mouth, only inches away. She tries to say the word “what?” but isn’t quite sure it comes out.

“The sight of you, in this bra…” Chloe coos seductively, actually running her fingertip down the bra strap and then along the edge of one of the cups as Beca follows its progress with rapt attention. Chloe pauses for dramatic effect, waiting until Beca looks up at her again, then concludes in a whisper, “Wrapping some of these stocking stuffers.” Then she leans back and straightens up, punctuating the performance with a quick wink.

“Hm.” This is the only response Beca can immediately manage as she tries to remember how to breathe. After seeming to consider the proposition, she says doubtfully, “See, I feel like that’s not one hundred percent true? I feel like I might be getting used, here.”

“Well,” Chloe tosses her a roll of tape, “guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Realizing there’s no point in continuing to fight it, Beca decides to give in and help. Even if it doesn’t actually make Chloe hot, it’ll at least mean they’ll be finished with everything sooner, which will still, hopefully, bring her closer to sex. It’s a no-brainer. So they divide the pile of remaining items up and get to work.

Wrapping things that aren’t in boxes turns out to be easier and more fun than Beca would have predicted, since it’s okay if it looks messy and there’s almost no way to get it wrong. Eventually, Chloe gets tired of standing and climbs onto the bed, sitting across from her. They trade the tape and scissors back and forth, losing them both every few minutes under the growing drift of wrapping paper scraps covering the bed.

At one point Beca seems overly amused with herself, and Chloe looks over to find her wrapping Scotch tape around the paper covering a plastic My Little Pony toy, over and over and over again, essentially mummifying the poor pony.

“What are you doing?” Chloe giggles.

“You wanted the anticipation factor. Let’s see how long it takes her to open this one.”

The piles of gifts keep diminishing until finally, finally, the very last box of sidewalk chalk is wrapped and added to the bag of finished items, ready to be crammed into the jumbo-sized stocking waiting downstairs.

Beca hardly dares to believe her own senses. “So, that’s it then? We’re done. With everything.”

Chloe looks around, considering. “What about the doll stroller?”

“Okay, we are not wrapping that,” Beca says firmly. “I’ll throw a sheet over it or something.”

“Then… yeah.” She looks back at Beca. “I guess that’s it.”

Trying and not succeeding very well at keeping her eyes from gleaming with pure lust as she stares at her, Beca offers, “Sooo, do you need like a bathroom break, or…?”

Chloe seems amused by this. “No, I’m good. I- “

But before she can complete this thought, Beca has pounced on her, with a kiss so forceful and bruising that both their mouths will probably be sore tomorrow. But she’s past caring. She pushes her back toward the middle of the bed, angling for the pillows, the wrapping paper crackling loudly underneath them. Chloe squeals in laughter, breaking the kiss to say, “Let me clear the bed off first!”

“Nope, it’s fine,” Beca gasps. “Leave it. We can knock this out in, like, five minutes.”

“God, that’s so sexy,” Chloe breathes against her ear. “Tell me again how fast you can be, it’s such a turn-on.”

“Shut up,” Beca laughs.

With Chloe now up against the pillows at the top of the bed, Beca climbs onto her lap, straddling her, almost undone by the instantaneous pleasure of even the light friction of this much contact. Oh God Oh God Oh God. She hasn’t even progressed as far as taking her sweatpants off yet, but even through the fabric the welcome pressure of Chloe’s body has her eyes rolling back in her head. In the past this would have been barely enough to register on her, but she’s so excruciatingly sensitive that any touch at all is already like a mini-orgasm. Immediately she begins rocking against Chloe in slow waves, trying to keep her movements sensual instead of desperate.

At the same time, she unbuttons the front of Chloe’s romper for the second time tonight and peels it off her shoulders, ducking down to return to the bare skin with her lips. She feels Chloe’s expected shiver as she tilts her head back to allow Beca easier access. Her collarbone is her secret erogenous zone, in the same way Beca’s ears are hers. It’s a surefire way to kick her passion up a few notches. As she kisses down the ridge of her shoulder and then along the top of her chest, she feels Chloe’s fingers working at the bra strap on her back. Without too much effort she unhooks it and Beca shrugs it off.

She continues working her way along Chloe’s collarbone and then back up her neck on the other side, but the fact that her breasts are now free is making her antsy, and she straightens her spine and lifts herself higher against Chloe’s body to put them nearer her mouth, hoping she gets the hint. She does.

The sensation of Chloe’s tongue tracing circles over one breast, followed not too long afterward by the enveloping warmth of her mouth clamping down on the other one sends a surge of heat blooming upwards from between Beca’s legs, and her thighs lock around Chloe’s hips in a preliminary spasm of pleasure. This in turn causes Chloe to press up against her and then to nip at her with her teeth, a feedback loop that jolts Beca with an even sharper stab of ecstasy and an increased frenzy to her writhing.

Suddenly she realizes that she’s too close. Way too close, for this early in the game. To try to slow herself down, she grasps Chloe’s head in her hands and physically pulls it up and away from her chest, signaling that she wants to kiss her. Chloe looks a little surprised, since Beca isn’t normally the type to want to go back to the preliminaries, after they’ve already gotten down to more serious business. But she happily obliges, sliding her hands up Beca’s bare back and pulling her even closer as she angles her head up and into the kiss.

As Chloe has gradually shifted further back into the pillows, Beca has worked herself lower down her body, and now Chloe’s pelvic bone is positioned directly between her legs, up against the precise spot that’s been begging for attention for hours. Still, this shouldn’t be enough contact, she knows it shouldn’t. And yet her lower body is behaving as if it is, almost as if it has a mind of its own, her squirming becoming more deliberately rhythmic, her hips rotating with purpose while her kisses gradually lose focus and then break off completely as her breathing grows more ragged.

Because it’s happening. All of a sudden she knows it’s happening, and either she can slam on the brakes completely or she can help it along and make sure it’s as satisfying as possible. She’s already past the point of no return. No sense in wasting it. So instead of fighting it she doubles down shamelessly, using every ounce of her strength to grind herself against Chloe’s lap, while Chloe assists her along by pushing herself up against her while simultaneously tugging downward on Beca’s hips.

Then she shudders and her back bows into a taut arc, her head practically upside down, and if Chloe wasn’t hanging onto her around the waist she would definitely fall over backwards. She hangs there suspended, waiting for it to spasm itself out. Every day the orgasms seem to be getting bigger, somehow. They’re more powerful, they take up more space inside her, and they last longer than she would have once thought possible. The bliss that floods through her now is so piercing that it brings actual tears to her eyes, and she has to make an effort to keep from screaming. Instead she makes a noise that probably sounds more like pain than pleasure, but it’s the most restrained she can manage.

Finally, feeling shaky and a bit lightheaded, still breathing hard, she steadies herself and rises back to vertical. The force of her grinding has pushed Chloe all the way back into a nearly reclining position, with Beca still straddling her midsection. Taking in gulps of air, mortification gradually settling in with the slowing of her pulse, Beca now looks down at her beautiful wife, at her messy hair splayed around her on the pillows, one strand caught in a snowflake earring, her lips swollen from the force of their brief but intense make-out session.

Chloe stares up at Beca, her eyes sparkling with mirth, stunned but also a little impressed. “Was that- ?”

Beca now covers her face with her hands as she realizes exactly what she just did. “Yep,” she confirms in a small voice.

“Wow. You weren’t kidding. That was fast.”

Beca only winces and shakes her head a little, hands still covering her face.

Chloe is enjoying this way too much. “I didn’t even touch you yet.”

“I know.”

“You’re still wearing your pants.”

“Oh my God, I know. Stop talking about it.”

Chloe giggles and pulls her down, and Beca allows herself to fall against her, laughing into the side of her neck, glad to hide her burning face.

“Jesus,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Chloe tells her, stroking her back. “It’s sort of flattering, in a… weird way. Also kinda hot,” she admits.

Beca takes a deep, shuddering breath, releasing it and feeling most of the tension drain out of her body as her pulse finally slows down. “I really needed that.”

“I shouldn’t have made you wait so long.” Chloe’s still rubbing slow circles on her back. “You need some time to recover, before the second half?”

She hesitates, but then accepts the offer. “Maybe just a few minutes.” Shifting off Chloe and onto her side, they lie facing each other, separated by only a few feet.

“Your face is all red,” Chloe smiles. She places the back of her hand against Beca’s cheek, as if checking for fever.

“That’s the color of shame,” Beca informs her, only half joking. She likewise reaches over and carefully extracts the hair that’s tangled in Chloe’s earring, then strokes it to smooth it out.

Inching closer to her across the pillow, Chloe nuzzles into a slow, lazy kiss. For a long while she seems content to keep it at this level, as if they have all the time in the world, and from the way she’s seeking out cuddles even in the midst of what’s supposed to be sex, Beca senses that she’s not in any big hurry, physically. Waiting for her energy reserves to return, she finds herself drifting into a kind of dreamy, hazy post-orgasm euphoria as they continue making out like teenagers. Beca’s fine with letting her set the pace, she just hopes she doesn’t fall asleep before Chloe decides she’s ready to kick it into high gear.

But suddenly Chloe stiffens and raises her head, like she’s listening.

“What?” Beca asks drowsily.

“I thought I heard something. In the hallway.”

“Maybe it’s Santa. Maybe he wants to watch, that old perv.”

Chloe gives her a distracted smile.

“That didn’t turn you on, did it?”

“Beca, shh. I’m serious, I hear something.”

Beca raises her head to listen as well, and confirmation shortly follows; there’s what sounds like a faint, feeble knock at the door, almost more like a scratch than a knock. Maybe one of the cats, Beca hopes. Please let it be one of the cats.

But then they hear just outside their door the one sound that no parent ever wants to hear in the middle of the night, especially while attempting to do what they’re attempting to do.

“Mommy?”

They stare at each other.

“What the hell?” Beca hisses. “Why is she awake?” Suddenly paranoid, she asks, “I wasn’t that loud, was I?”

“No,” Chloe assures her. “Maybe she’s sick.” In a loud, upbeat voice, she calls, “Just a second, sweetheart!”

Beca sits up and searches for her shirt under all the wrapping paper on the bed, then yanks it back on, not bothering with the bra. She starts toward the door but then suddenly remembers they have a bigger problem than just incomplete sex.

“Shit, the presents,” she whispers. “What do we do?”

“Um,” Chloe casts around for a solution. “Blankets!”

As fast as they can, they tug the comforter from the bed and cover the piles of presents on the floor. Beca grabs a knitted afghan to drape over the stack of gifts in the armchair in the corner, while Chloe snatches a spare sheet from a nearby laundry basket, tossing it over the doll stroller.

“Hold on, we’re almost there!” she calls again, trying to sound normal. She looks around, asking Beca, “Is everything covered?”

Beca smirks. “Not quite everything.”

Chloe looks down at where Beca’s gesturing, realizing that she’s still topless. “Oh.” She laughs and yanks the romper back up onto her arms, and is just finishing the last button when Beca reaches the door.

Checking to make sure Chloe is ready, she pauses, then swings it open.

On the other side, waiting in the hallway, they’re confronted with the face of tragedy. Violet stands there in her brand new blue and white snowman-printed Christmas pajamas, the one gift she’d been allowed to open tonight before bed, but the expression on her face is anything but festive. She looks wretched.

“Sweetie.” Chloe’s voice is drenched in pre-emptive sympathy. “What happened?”

“Did you puke?” Beca asks, getting right to the point.

Shell-shocked, Violet stares into the middle distance as if she’s barely aware of their presence. In a quiet tone of disbelief, she says, “He didn’t come here.”

“What?” They look at each other, uncomprehending.

Repeating herself, Violet emphasizes each word for the benefit of their challenged adult brains. “He. Didn’t. Come. To. Our. House.”

“Who didn’t?” Beca demands.

Violet finally looks up at her, her mouth a tiny O of surprise, flabbergasted that her mother could be so stupid. “Santa Claus!”

“Wait, did you go downstairs?” Chloe looks dismayed. “It’s not even morning yet.”

Ignoring this question, Violet shakes her head and walks a few paces into the room, then spins around and comes back, then repeats the process, wringing her tiny hands and looking distraught.

“Uh-oh,” Beca mutters. “She’s pacing. Where have I seen this before?”

“Violet, oh my God, this is just a misunderstanding, please don’t freak out,” Chloe begs her.

Without seeming to hear her, Violet continues her pacing. “I can’t believe this!” she rants. “This is the worst Christmas of my life!”

“Oh, man,” Beca winces. “Out of all four?”

“Beca.” Chloe shoots her a warning look. Then she takes Violet by the shoulders and gently guides her over to the trunk at the foot of their bed. “Honey, come over here, and listen to me for a minute.” She sits down and pulls Violet up to sit next to her, telling her, “Santa Claus is going to be here, I promise. It’s still early, there’s plenty of time.”

“No. He’s not coming. And I know why. It’s because I did something bad.” She’s really playing up the melodrama, sticking out her bottom lip in a pout that she must have learned from a sitcom kid.

“What? No, you didn’t,” Chloe tries to comfort her. “You’ve been really good this year.”

“I wasn’t good yesterday.” Violet looks at her, saying pointedly, “You don’t know, Mommy.”

“Ohhh.” Now Chloe’s catching on. “I see.”

Beca approaches, lowering herself to the edge of the bed a few feet from Chloe. Trying to sound as if she’s taking this seriously, she offers, “Is there something you want to tell us?”

It takes only a few seconds for Violet to decide that she does want to tell them, since she’s obviously suffering from a guilty conscience. “Okay.” She hops down from the wooden chest and comes to stand in front of them both, then takes a deep breath. “Yesterday…” she stares mournfully at her socks, looking for all the world like she’s about to deliver a eulogy. “I peed in the plant.”

Chloe and Beca glance at each other, baffled.

“What plant?” Beca asks.

Violet sighs, miserable but determined to press forward with her confession now that she’s started. “The big one. In the living room. With the red flowers.”

“My poinsettia plant?” Chloe asks, her voice strained as if she’s already trying to hold back laughter.

“In the dirt,” Violet specifies. “Not the flower part.”

“Oh.” Chloe nods slowly, but then clamps a hand over her own mouth.

“Because the Grinch was on,” Violet adds, warming to her narrative now. “And I had to go real bad. But I didn’t want to miss it, so I didn’t go yet. But then I couldn’t wait any more. So I went in the plant.”

Pressing her lips together hard, Beca glances once at Chloe and then looks quickly away before they make eye contact, certain that then they’d really lose it. Because they both know that their daughter is sensitive about being laughed at, it would be a bad idea. But this is one of those times when it’s practically torture to fight it.

Beca manages to master herself first. To buy Chloe some time to get it together, she comments, “I can see how that might be tempting. That white pot does sort of look like a toilet.”

This apparently doesn’t help Chloe, because now an odd stifled snort comes from behind the hand she’s holding over her mouth.

Beca adds, “And, I mean, who wants to leave the room when the Grinch is on, right?”

Violet nods, glad somebody gets it. “But it was still bad,” she points out.

Finally, Chloe regains her composure. She lowers her hand, saying sympathetically, “Sweetheart. That’s… I mean, yeah, okay, that’s definitely not a good thing. We don’t want to make a habit of… peeing in plants.” She’s forced to stop again, still avoiding meeting Beca’s eye. “But it’s good that you told us.”

“No,” Violet shakes her head tragically, refusing to be consoled. “It doesn’t matter. Because Santa already knows. Like in the song.” Suddenly she face plants onto the bed between them, uttering a muffled, plaintive wail. “I ruined Christmas!”

Chloe and Beca trade dumbfounded looks over her back, neither having any immediate idea of how to fix this mess. Beca still really wants to laugh, but she can read the Don’t in Chloe’s gaze as easily as if she’d said it out loud. Shutting her eyes for a second, she considers their options in this supremely ridiculous situation. She feels responsible, since if it wasn’t for her raging sex drive, they probably would have already had the presents under the tree. But there’s clearly no way to explain that to their daughter.

She opens her eyes again with an idea. It might not work, but it’s worth a shot. “All right.” She takes a deep breath. “Hey,” she nudges Violet. “Would you sit up, please? And stop being such a drama queen? There’s something we need to tell you. About Santa Claus.”

Though she drags out the process, Violet does finally pull herself up from the bed and turn around to face them, intrigued.

Chloe, however, looks confused, and more than a little concerned. She pulls Violet into her lap, as if to protect her from whatever Beca’s about to say.

“It’s a big secret,” Beca adds, “so you have to promise you’re not gonna tell any other kids.” She shoots Chloe a look over Violet’s head that she hopes conveys Trust me, but Chloe still seems nervous, obviously wondering where on earth she’s going with this.

But Violet is now hanging on every word. “I promise,” she says solemnly.

“Okay. Here it is.” She lowers her voice to a discreet level. “Santa Claus?” Here Beca takes a long pause for maximum dramatic impact, starting to enjoy herself a little. “He doesn’t actually care whether you’re good or not.”

She can sense the relief washing over Chloe as she realizes what Beca’s up to.

“Yes he does,” Violet insists petulantly.

“Nope,” Beca shakes her head. “He doesn’t. Parents just want kids to think that, so they’ll be good. But the truth is, Santa doesn’t give a crap. About anything you do. He’s gonna bring you stuff no matter what.”

“It’s true,” Chloe chimes in. “He really doesn’t care. The song is a lie.”

Mulling this over, Violet seems to want to believe them, but she’s not quite there yet.

“In fact...” Beca looks around as if she’s about to impart even more confidential information. “Did I ever tell you about the Christmas Eve when I stabbed my brother in the shoulder with a pencil?”

Violet looks shocked. “Why did you stab Uncle Chris?”

“I had to.” In her most serious tone, Beca explains, “Because he called Nicole Scherzinger a skank.”

Thinking about this, Violet wants to know, “Who’s Nicole…” she struggles to pronounce the name, “Scherrrr...zinger?”

“She was a Pussycat Doll,” Chloe supplies helpfully.

“Yeah,” Beca agrees. “Well, I mean,” she shrugs, compelled to add, “not just a Pussycat Doll. She was, like, the lead Pussycat Doll.”

Still seeming deeply confused, Violet asks, “Who were the- ”

“You know what, that’s not important,” Beca quickly interrupts her. “The point is, she wasn’t a skank. She was a superstar. And a very important part of my childhood. And I’m pretty sure that I was trying to kill my brother with that pencil. He still has graphite lodged under his skin, to this day.”

“He does,” Chloe confirms. “I’ve seen it.”

Looking back and forth from one to the other, Violet considers this.

Now Beca pauses, waiting until she’s sure her daughter is listening to every word. “But you know what? Santa didn’t even blink at that attempted murder. He still brought me every single thing I asked for that year.”

After processing this new information, Violet does finally seem to be reassured. But then another flicker of worry crosses her face as she glances at the clock. “But it’s almost morning. Maybe he just forgot.”

“He didn’t forget, I promise,” Chloe tells her. “Actually,” she throws out impetuously, “he’s on his way to our house, right now. We know that for sure.”

“How?” Violet demands.

“Because…” Unprepared to provide evidence, Chloe casts a desperate glance at Beca, but Beca gives her a tiny shrug; she’s all tapped out on bullshit. “Because, he just texted us!”

Beca bites the inside of her cheek, hard, just as Violet turns to her for corroboration. She nods, saying carefully, “Yep.”

“No, he didn’t,” she sulks, but it’s clear she wants them to prove her wrong.

“Yes, he did,” Chloe insists. “Right before you came in. He texted to say he’s almost here. What, you don’t believe me?”

“Let me see it.”

“You want to see the text from Santa? All right.” She seems to be racking her brain for inspiration. “Bec, give me your phone.”

Beca squints at her, dubious. “O-kayyy.” With an expression of You sure about this? she nevertheless retrieves her phone from the nightstand and hands it over.

Navigating easily to her message app, Chloe at first looks frantic as she taps through the threads, but then her face lights up with triumph as she reads something on the screen. She angles the phone toward Violet, pointing at a received message bubble in the left column. “Here it is. Right there, see it?” She reads it out loud. “It says, Almost there! Don’t give up on me ;)”

Violet studies the words for a minute, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger as she concentrates on trying to sound out the letters.

Chloe isn’t lying, this is precisely what the text says. Of course, what neither of them tells Violet is that this is actually a text from Chloe herself, sent yesterday afternoon during Violet’s nap, in response to one from Beca which reads How close are you to home? I’m in bed about to start without you.

After a few more seconds of scrutinizing, Violet reaches her verdict. “Kay,” she finally says, accepting their word for it.

“Okay?” Beca reiterates, trying not to look as relieved as she feels. “You believe us now?” She snatches the phone back before Violet can change her mind.

“See, silly? There was nothing to be worried about,” Chloe squeezes her reassuringly.

At long last, they’re rewarded by their daughter’s smile, which breaks over her face and lights it up with joy, like the proverbial rainbow after the storm. “I know,” she tells them, as if she’s been fine all along and they’re the ones who’ve been freaking out.

Unfortunately, now that her inner peace has been restored, Violet for the first time seems to notice the odd condition of her parents’ bedroom. Taking in her surroundings with perplexity as she slowly looks around her, she asks, “Why is there blankets on everything?”

“Um, because the roof was leaking,” Beca says fast, knowing that out of all the nonsense explanations they’ve cooked up in the last ten minutes this is surely the lamest. “And we didn’t want the furniture to get messed up.”

“Oh.”

To keep her from dwelling on this long enough to remember that it hasn’t rained at all in the last few weeks, Beca hurriedly changes the subject. “You know, you should probably get back to bed. The thing is… Santa might be a total pushover when it comes to the naughty thing? But he really does want you to be asleep when he gets here.”

“Yeah, it’s true,” Chloe nods. “That part is actually pretty important. We shouldn’t take any chances.”

“Okay,” Violet agrees immediately.

But Chloe doesn’t release her just yet. “So, do you feel better about everything now?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you excited about tomorrow?” She gives her a gentle shake.

“Uh-huh.” Violet is now beginning to squirm to get out of her lap.

“You’re gonna have so much fun,” Chloe promises her. “I bet you’re gonna get every present you asked for, and probably some that you didn’t even think of.”

“Yeah. But, Mommy,” she finally runs out of patience. “I have to go.”

“Oh, okay,” Chloe laughs, finally letting go of her. “You’re right, you should go. Kiss first!”

After she accepts the kiss with barely-concealed haste, Violet starts to run right out of the room, but Beca interjects. “Ah-ah-ah! Hey. Are you forgetting something?”

With a heavy sigh, Violet turns and comes back for yet another goodnight hug and kiss. “We already did this, before,” she can’t help pointing out to Beca.

Beca laughs. “Yeah, well, if you’d stayed in bed we wouldn’t have to do it all over again.”

Violet has no desire to argue, since time is of the essence. Released from Beca’s hug, she heads back to her bedroom at a sprint. Chloe waits in their doorway while Beca follows their daughter down the hall to her room, where she watches as Violet springs into bed. Giving her a last wave and a reminder to go to sleep fast, she gently closes the door. Then she comes back toward Chloe, smiling, both hands raised in the air for a soft and soundless high-five.

Chloe hangs onto her hands and tugs her back into their bedroom. After the door is shut behind them, they both lean against it, finally allowing themselves to laugh, but not too loudly.

“Did that really just happen?” Chloe asks in a low voice. “Oh my God, I thought you were gonna tell her about Santa Claus.” She gives Beca’s shoulder a playful shove. “I would have killed you.”

“I know,” Beca smirks. “Sorry. Nice save with the text, though. We should have just started with that.”

“Oh, yeah,” Chloe says modestly. “I guess it’s a good thing she can’t read too well yet.”

Beca laughs, then both are quiet for a few seconds as they bask in the relief of pulling the whole thing off.

“So, I don’t want to sound cocky,” Beca says, sounding deliberately cocky, “but I think we’re nailing this parenting thing.”

“Totally,” Chloe concurs. Then she winces a little. “I mean, except for the part where she might be traumatized for life after seeing a Christmas tree with no presents under it.”

“Right. Except for that,” Beca agrees. She looks around the room at all the mounds covered by blankets. “We should probably get this stuff downstairs. Before she wakes up and has another existential crisis.”

Chloe nods, taking a deep breath and looking ready for action. “Let’s do it.”

It takes five trips to get everything to the living room, five excruciatingly slow trips as they tiptoe down the upstairs hallway and the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. Beca makes a special detour out to her backyard studio to retrieve her own presents for Chloe, because it’s the only place that’s safe to hide them from her wife’s snooping habits.

On their last trip from the upstairs bedroom, as she sets her final load of presents down on the floor, Chloe suddenly asks, “So, I have to know. Did you really stab your brother to defend Nicole Scherzinger’s honor?”

“I mean…” Beca maneuvers a large rectangular box into an armchair next to the tree and then lifts her hands in a hapless gesture. “He called her a skank. What was I supposed to do?”

“Aw, baby,” Chloe gives her a sympathetic pout. “I can’t believe you thought you were straight for so many years.”

“I know,” Beca mutters sheepishly. “I’m an idiot.”

Once all the gifts are finally unloaded in front of the tree, they work on arranging them. But every time Beca puts a present in a particular place, Chloe moves it to a different spot. So she gives up and lets her handle the fine-tuning of the visuals, standing back to watch while eating the cookies left out for Santa. She’s earned them.

Eventually, her attention drifts over to the large, nearly tree-sized poinsettia on the floor near the window, in its gleaming white pot. “I don’t think I’ll ever look at that plant the same way again.”

Chloe gives a loud laugh, remembering the cause for this assertion, then claps a hand to her mouth to stifle it. She glances toward the doorway, as if to make absolutely certain Violet is nowhere in evidence, saying in a low voice, “God, I thought I was gonna lose it. She looked so guilty.”

“I know. That’s why I was trying not to make eye contact with you, dude. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it together.”

Coming to stand beside her and examining the plant, Chloe muses, “I guess I should probably change the potting soil tomorrow. But I mean, it could have been worse, right? At least she didn’t poop in it.”

They both stare at the flowers for a few seconds in silence.

“We have a weird kid,” Beca remarks.

Chloe smiles, nodding a little. “True. But I wouldn’t want any other kind.”

Unconsciously, Beca rests a hand on her stomach. Only after she’s noted her own gesture does her mind catch up, and she finds herself wondering what these two will be like, whether they’ll resemble Violet or whether they’ll have totally different personalities from their big sister, or even from each other. Wondering what kind of trouble they’ll inevitably get into, what they’ll be afraid of, what they’ll love, what kind of people they’ll become. Thinking about it makes her feel dizzy and out of her depth, so she stops herself. One day at a time.

She looks over to find Chloe watching her, a soft, thoughtful expression on her face, as if her mind is on the same track.

After a few seconds Chloe looks around, making sure the job is totally done. “Oh, hey, come over here a minute.” She draws Beca toward the doorway, positioning her so that she’s facing the room. “This is the best part.” Then she turns the lights out, leaving only the Christmas tree lights on.

Chloe comes back to stand beside her, and they look out at the room.

“Wow,” Beca breathes.

They gaze silently at the spectacle of their own living room transformed, the presents spilling out from under the tree, covering a large section of the floor, even stacked in the chairs nearest the tree. Violet’s stocking is too heavy to hang on the mantel, so it’s laid in front of the gifts, bulging and overflowing, some of the items scattered on the floor around it because they literally wouldn’t fit inside. Near the fireplace is the doll stroller, which Chloe has covered with a Christmas-themed tablecloth, so it mostly blends in with the other wrapped gifts. The effect of the entire room is impressive, to say the least. It looks like something from a magazine.

“Isn’t it pretty?”

“It’s beautiful,” Beca says in all sincerity. “She’s gonna freak out when she sees all this.”

“That’s the idea.” Chloe smiles with excitement. “Don’t let me forget to take some pictures, before she rips into everything.”

“You have to admit, though,” Beca can’t help pointing out, “that’s a lot of stuff for a four-year-old.”

“Some of it’s for us, too,” Chloe offers in her defense. “It’s not all hers. But yeah,” she acknowledges, “most of it.”

“You don’t think we’re spoiling her too much?”

“I hope not.” She concedes, “I know I might have gone a little overboard. But I just really wanted this Christmas to be special, for her. Because...” Chloe hesitates, almost as if she’s not sure she wants to say the next words out loud, or maybe she just needs a second to get her emotions under control. “Because it’s the last one with just the three of us.”

Somehow, as implausible as it seems, this is the first time such an obvious fact has occurred to Beca. Maybe, on some unconscious level, she’s been avoiding thinking about it. Staring at the Christmas tree, she’s stunned into poignant silence by the emotion that hits her as she contemplates this truth.

Chloe continues in a quiet voice. “Next year is gonna be so different. We’ll have a five-year-old, and two infants.” Noticing that Beca still hasn’t said anything, she adds quickly, “And it’s not that I’m not excited. I am. So beyond excited, and, just, over the moon. But at the same time…” she pauses. “It won’t ever be like this again. You know?”

“Yeah. I guess that’s true,” Beca admits softly, marveling, “She’s not gonna be the baby anymore.” Struggling to find the right words, she adds, “I mean, she’ll always be… our baby. But…”

“I know. I know what you mean.” Chloe takes a slightly shaky breath and lets it out. “So, anyway, that’s why I maybe overdid it, a little. I just wanted this one to be special.”

Beca finally looks over at her, then reaches out and takes her hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing hard. “It will be.”

Chloe raises Beca’s hand and presses a kiss to the back of it, her eyes bright with unshed tears, thanking her without needing to say the words.

Looking back at the tree again, Beca shakes her head, just a bit overwhelmed. “God, it really is gonna be crazy, isn’t it? To go from one kid to three.”

Chloe starts to speak, stops herself, then forges ahead. “Are you scared?”

Not entirely sure how to answer, Beca thinks about it. She wants to be honest, but she can also feel a kind of vulnerability radiating from Chloe as she waits for her reply, as if she needs something from her.

“Nah,” Beca finally says, looking over at her. “We got this.”

The grateful, beautiful smile which lights up Chloe’s face pierces straight into Beca’s heart, and somehow makes her believe in the absolute truth of the words she’d just uttered.

“Yeah,” Chloe agrees, sounding as if she believes it too.

Drawn by an impulse too powerful to fight, Beca turns to her and pulls her close, holding her face with a reverent touch as she moves in and presses their lips together, slowly and softly. This time it’s not a lustful kiss, but one of pure love. They’ve been together long enough that Chloe instinctively knows the difference, and she lets herself melt into it with her eyes closed. There��s no mistletoe in this particular doorway, but they don’t need it.

After a few seconds Beca tastes salt, and realizes with mild surprise that Chloe is crying. She pulls back a little. “Hey.” Reaching up, she uses her thumbs to smudge away a few of the tears. “I’m the one with the hormones, here.”

“Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. That’s just it.” She looks down and places her palms over the subtle roundness of Beca’s stomach, in the same reverent way Beca had just touched her face. “I’ve never been this happy in my entire life, Beca. After last time, I honestly didn’t think we’d ever be doing this again.” She looks up and meets her gaze, but doesn’t move her hands. “I hope you know this is the best Christmas present you could ever possibly give me.”

As usual, this level of emotion makes Beca a bit uncomfortable. “Well, good,” she jokes with a little shrug. “Because I didn’t get you anything else.”

Chloe leans closer, grinning. “I know that’s not true, but even if it was? I wouldn’t care.”

Beca smiles too, wrinkling her nose into another kiss.

“I love you,” Chloe mumbles against her lips.

Now, as if her hormones are indeed living up to her comment from a minute ago, Beca feels an unexpected surge of emotion. She wraps her arms around Chloe and pulls her into a hug, since that at least allows her to hide her face. Waiting a few seconds until she trusts her voice not to break, she speaks directly against her ear. “I love you too. So, so, so much.” She swallows hard against the knot in her throat. “Like, it’s honestly disgusting, how much I love you.”

Over her shoulder Chloe makes a sound that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes her tighter. They hold each other like that for a while, barely moving except for hands stroking over backs or kisses pressed into hair.

Leaning her head against Chloe’s shoulder and closing her eyes, Beca loses track of time. She’s drifting in a pleasantly euphoric trance state, wishing they could somehow just teleport straight to their room and go to sleep, without actually having to walk up the stairs. She summons the energy to mutter, “We should get to bed.”

“Good idea,” Chloe agrees, sounding sleepy as well.

But then suddenly, out of nowhere, Beca feels a tiny but sharp twinge of pain on the bottom of her ass. “Ah,” she jerks a little. “What the hell was that?” Finally they separate, and she leans back and peers at Chloe. “Did you pinch me?”

“What?” Chloe’s face is the picture of innocence. “No.”

At first Beca’s genuinely confused. But then Chloe adds, as if just thinking of it, “Oh, you know what I bet it was? I bet it was that sex elf, again.”

A slow grin now replaces Beca’s puzzlement. “Really? You saw her?”

“Does she look a little bit like a miniature Pussycat Doll?”

“That’s her,” Beca widens her eyes. “Oh my God, you did see her.”

“Then, yep. She was here.” Chloe bends closer and whispers, “And I bet I know why.”

“You think?”

“Mm-hm. I bet she’s a little miffed that we didn’t quite... finish the job, earlier.”

The erotic tone of Chloe’s voice acts as a trigger, and in an instant Beca’s libido wakes from near-slumber and she’s flooded once again with a tidal wave of desire. It hits her with such unexpected force that she feels her toes clench on the rug under her feet. The orgasm from half an hour ago is suddenly as irrelevant as if it never happened. So much for going straight to sleep.

“Wow, those pinches really work,” she murmurs.

Chloe giggles and kisses her again. “I’m counting on it.” Now she takes Beca’s left hand and lifts it, staring down at it and turning it over, palm up, as she strokes a spot between her fingers contemplatively. “You know, I was just thinking, maybe I could get into that whole papercut kink of yours.”

Beca smiles, but then pulls back a bit and regards her with a curious look. “You do know I was kidding about that, right?”

Chloe only raises an eyebrow mysteriously and kisses the precise spot where the papercut had occurred, then turns in a seductive manner and begins leading her toward the stairs.

“Right?” Beca repeats, allowing herself to be pulled along.

Still no answer, aside from a coy smirk.

Beca teases, “Okay, see, now you’re scaring me a little.”

Chloe laughs as they start up the stairs, and then laughs even harder when Beca admits, “Still really turned on, though.”

#bechloe #bechloe fic #bechloe fanfic #merry pitchmas 2017 #hope it's ok if i use that tag even though it's not part of the official gift exchange #if not let me know and i'll delete it #i realize this fic feels almost more like sendrick than bechloe in parts lol #i've been watching a lot of interviews lately #but i do think that's kind of how beca and chloe would be after a few years of marriage you know?#i think beca would be more mellow and goofy #and chloe would be more centered and mature #oh and there's actually a lot more backstory as to why beca's pregnant #why she decided she wanted to do that and everything #but that whole saga is a little too serious for the tone of this story so i tried to limit the exposition to just what's necessary #if anyone wants i may eventually write those sections of their story as well #oh and i'll put this on the fic sites when i get a chance #and i forgot to say this takes place about a year after No Kissing if that's not clear

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