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#secret santa fic
joyful-enchantress · 3 months
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Jól Never Be Alone | Loki x Fem!Reader
banner created by the amazing @springdandelixn
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A/N: Hello! Enjoy this festive oneshot that I wrote as a gift for @smolvenger for this Secret Santa event facilitated by @fictive-sl0th. I took inspiration from a request submitted by @smolvenger and also from the Old Norse jól (pronounced yule), a midwinter festival which celebrated the passing of the longest days of winter, and fertility in the coming year. Happy Holidays!
Genre/Warnings: Arranged marriage, mild angst in the beginning (with a happy ending, I promise!), hurt/comfort, fluff, thirst, pining, smutty thoughts, language
Word Count: 3k
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Three damn days.
That’s it. That’s all the time you had to pull yourself together.
To clean up the mess that you’d become these past weeks and be what the people of Asgard expected you to be. Needed you to be.
The shining star of the upcoming jól feast. You were to be the gem of the midwinter celebration as their newest princess.
That is, after all, what you were. You were married into the Asgardian royal family just over a month ago, joined in holy matrimony with Odin’s youngest son. The dark prince. Loki. A man — no, a god — that, for centuries now, had maidens everywhere falling over themselves just for the chance to spend a night warming his bed. How lucky you were to be his wife, right?
Though it wasn’t exactly a love match. Your marriage had been arranged by those that claimed more of a say in your lives than either of you did. Loki’s father and your own had devised a scheme — years in the making — in which you’d become Loki’s wife to strengthen the alliance between Asgard and your home realm, Vanaheim.
Yes, unfortunately, your love story felt less like a romance and more like a political drama.
It certainly didn't help that Loki has been cold and distant since the betrothal. He was always keeping to his own side of your shared living quarters, the physical walls between you serving as a constant reminder of the figurative one that loomed —towering and unsurmountable — between you. Short, clipped greetings are all that fell from his lips to welcome or acknowledge you when your paths did cross. Roommates with fancy titles... that's all you were. The dark, handsome prince, your husband, was never disrespectful — far from it, actually — but he never showed any true interest in you beyond what has been required during public appearances.
You couldn't blame him, not really. This couldn't possibly be what he had hoped for, when he would daydream about his own future. Trapped in a loveless marriage with you, likely feeling like little more than a pawn in his father's political chess games. No, it was no wonder why he kept his distance as much as the nature of your entanglement allowed.
There was a time, not so long ago, when you had allowed yourself to dream of a future where you sat beside Loki, as his wife. But not this way. Not like this.
Since childhood, you'd had a crush on the younger prince. Once you were old enough to accompany your father on his delegations to Asgard, where he'd speak on behalf of the Vanir at the council meetings, he was sure to bring you along. In hindsight, you realized, he only brought you with him so that you could become acquainted with Asgard before he secured your place there, within the royal court. But oh, how you looked forward to those trips! And a certain mischievous god was to blame...
Loki caught your eye the very first time you met him. How could he not? With those sharp cheekbones and chiseled jaw that you swore were sharp enough to slice through your dignity. The silky curtains of raven curls that framed his stupidly handsome face, always looking absolutely perfect, no matter how unkempt and mussed they were. Then there were his eyes, glistening like two polished emeralds against the alabaster planes of his face. You had frequently wondered what it might be like to lock eyes with him during the throes of a passionate night of lovemaking... meeting his gaze as you're writhing in the sheets underneath his lean, sculpted body, appreciating the length of him — of his neck, his limbs, his cock as he buries himself inside you.
Perhaps it was foolish, but you spent those years pining for him from afar, dreaming of what could possibly be someday. Sure, you spent time with him during your visits, enjoying strolls together through the gardens or his personal library, sharing details of your lives and bonding over your joint love of books. He definitely wasn't a stranger to you. In fact, you’d say you knew him well. But you never made your romantic feelings for him known; you never hinted at the desire that scorched through your veins like an untamed fire every time he was near.
You'd tell him someday, you'd tell yourself. You would tell Loki your feelings and with any luck he'd be yours... and it was that thought, that hope, that fueled your daydreams and pushed you through until your next visit to Asgard.
But before you ever got the chance to share the true nature of your feelings with Loki, you were both called into the throne room where your fathers informed you of the arrangements that had been made. You were to be married. In three fortnights.
And your dreams of a fairytale romance with the handsome prince were thwarted in an instant. You wanted him, but not like this. You wanted something real... you wanted Loki to want you.
Now you were homesick and, during a time when you should be feeling surrounded by love and holiday cheer, you had never felt more alone.
Jól was in three days. And the midwinter festival was supposed to be magnificent — a giant feast honoring the gods Odin and Freyr and celebrating a hope for peace, sunshine, and fertility in the coming year. Your place of honor at the celebrations was especially anticipated, not only because you were Asgard's newest princess, but because you were from Vanaheim — you were Vanir, same as Freyr. And, you were one of his descendants; his granddaughter, in fact. Yes — Loki was Odin’s son and you were Freyr’s granddaughter. Your union was a jóltide dream. The people of Asgard were abuzz with excitement, chattering about how special this year’s festivities would be… thanks to you.
You and Loki had been seen in public before, of course. You had endured your wedding and the celebrations that followed and managed fairly well. But that was a formal affair; beyond a few pecks on the lips throughout the day's festivities, you could go through the motions with little more than the occasional formal dance required, as far as physical contact.
The expectations at the jól festival were entirely different. It was to be a wild and sensual affair, with you and Loki performing a dance as the centerpiece of the fertility celebrations. This dance... the sensuality was not something that could easily be fabricated. You couldn't just go through the motions. The two of you would be chest to chest, eyes locked in a passionate stare, hands roaming and exploring each other's bodies. Your performance was meant to inspire not only yourselves, but all in attendance to go forth from the feast and be fruitful.
The thought twisted your stomach in knots and made your heart ache. How were you supposed to make it convincing? And if you did give in to the burning desire you had for Loki to put on the show that the people of Asgard were expecting, how were you supposed to protect your heart? Knowing that it wasn't the same for Loki; it wasn't real for him, too...
You had been training for this dance with an instructor for two weeks now, learning the basic steps. Having grown up in the royal court here, Loki was already familiar with the dance, so he didn't require the same training. But now it was time for rehearsals to begin. With only three days until the festival, you had to practice the dance with your actual performance partner... with Loki. You had to get a feel for each other during the dance; see where it felt natural to add in those caresses of your nose on his cheek, his fans of hot breath on your neck, the wandering touches on each other's bodies that linger just a whisper too long...
And your first rehearsal was in two hours.
You needed to get some air.
As you step outside, the frigid air engulfs you and steals your breath away. It’s a welcome feeling — a cleansing feeling. And it’s exactly what you need to clear your head and collect yourself before this dreaded rehearsal. You make a beeline for the palace gardens without much of a thought, your usual walking route essentially muscle memory at this point.
Your footsteps were nearly silent on the fresh-fallen snow that blanketed the path beneath your feet as you strolled throughout the garden, admiring the pops of color provided by the hardy winter flowers and berries that were currently growing there. As you approached the crocuses, you stopped to appreciate their bright purple blooms and the way the snow clung to the delicate petals.
Despite the harshness of the current environment, the flowers were thriving, refusing to let the cold and the ice dampen their beauty and light. A single tear rolled down your cheek as you resolved to do the same. You wouldn’t let your situation dampen your own light any longer.
“Darling…?” A familiar voice sounded from just behind you, seemingly out of nowhere. The snow must have muffled the sound of Loki’s approach.
What was he doing here?
“Oh, hello, Loki! You startled me; I didn’t expect to run into you out here.”
You quickly made to wipe the tear from your cheek as you turned to face him, but you weren’t quite fast enough; nothing got past Loki’s sharp gaze.
“So sorry to alarm you, I just came to the garden for some calm and quiet. The bustling in the palace as everyone prepares for the festival can get overwhelming.” He paused for just a moment, his brow creasing ever so slightly as if considering whether to continue before asking, “Is there anything troubling you, Y/N?”
Yes. So many things, you have no idea.
“I’m alright, Loki. I… I think the frigid air is just making my eyes water.” You managed a weak smile as you lied to your husband.
His eyes softened at your words; they beheld more warmth than you’d seen from him since before your forced betrothal.
“You know, Y/N… I know this hasn’t been easy. On either of us. But it doesn’t have to be this way between us forever. You don’t have to hide your feelings from me just because you don’t… just because we’re not…”
He struggled to find the right words to finish the sentence, but the implication was a shard of ice to your heart.
“What I’m trying to say is that you can talk to me. Ours may not be a marriage of love, but it still is a partnership. I can tell that something is wrong, that something has been wrong since our fathers broke the news of our arrangement to us. It was like, at that very moment, the light inside you was snuffed out. The woman that walked out of the throne room that day was not the same woman that entered. You’ve been a shell of yourself ever since you learned that you’d been sentenced to spend your life with me. And I’ve tried to give you space… to give you time. I didn’t want to pressure you, or suffocate you, so I’ve kept my distance. Waiting for you to be ready to speak to me again; perhaps even to spend time together again, enjoying our shared interests. But it has been more than 10 weeks now and I don’t think I can wait any longer, darling. Talk to me, please. I… I miss what we were before that day in the throne room.”
You blinked at him, flabbergasted. At a loss for words.
Set aside the sheer wonder of the sight before you: the tall frame, hung with lean muscles that strained against the fabric of the emerald tunic he was wearing. A note of gratitude crossed your mind that his Jotun ancestry allowed him to forgo any bulky outerwear to protect him from the elements, so you could enjoy this view, unobstructed. Even the way the snow clung to his dark, luscious locks and reflected the garden lights like a glittering crown had him looking every bit the winter king.
This man — this god — missed you. He mistook your heartbreak for… disgust.
As if you could ever find any part of him disgusting.
“Loki, I…” Your eyes darted frantically, looking everywhere but at him. Searching the winter blooms, the snow-covered tree branches, the festive garden decorations for a sign… for a whisper of encouragement. A murmur of reassurance. Was this it? Was this your moment?
When you finally met his gaze again, you saw nothing there but patience. Kindness. But also… longing?
“I love you.” You blurted it out, pushing the words from your lips before you could change your mind.
Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears; you actually said it. Nervousness enveloped your body like fresh steam, causing you to sweat despite the cold temperature.
“You…what?”
To say he was taken aback would be an understatement. It was clearly the last thing he expected you to say.
“I love you, Loki. I have for a while now.”
“Then why —?”
“Because I was heartbroken. Shattered. You’re right, Loki, the light inside me was snuffed out that day. Extinguished in an instant. But not because I was appalled or disgusted at the thought of spending forever with you. On the contrary, I had been dreaming of that very notion for years…”
You saw his eyes widen and his breath hitch before you continued.
“The light went out because I lost the hope that carried me forward; I never got to tell you how I truly felt about you — how much I cared about you…how much I wanted you.”
His eyes darkened almost imperceptibly at hearing you confess your desire for him.
You swallowed your own budding lust and pushed forward. “And so the delicate and, perhaps, foolish hope that we might have something real someday crumbled. Then, when I saw how much you withdrew from me, I… I was sure you had no interest in me. And that broke my heart even further, Loki, to know that you didn’t feel the same way about me and yet, we were trapped together in this marriage. I’ve never felt more alone than I have these past 10 weeks.”
“Darling…” he sighed as he closed the distance between you, reaching out his fingertips to softly caress the side of your face before brushing them under your chin and tilting your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze.
The small gesture stole your breath away. It was the first physical contact you had with Loki since the wedding, and certainly more intimate than any touches you had ever shared. This wasn’t a public appearance; there was no audience. There was only him. And you. And the hammering of your heart.
“It appears that we have both been foolish.” A smile slowly crept across his lips as he muttered, “a pair of hopeless, lovesick fools.”
By now the smile had wholly taken root and a full grin had bloomed on his face, casting a light there that you hadn’t seen in months.
Oh, how you missed that smile.
“Loki…” you gasped. “Are — are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I love you too, wife.”
You couldn’t think straight. You could barely breathe. You had to be dreaming.
Loki could tell that words were beyond you, so he just continued.
“I’ve adored you for years, Y/N. Admired you in secret like an adolescent with an unattainable crush. Because that’s what you were to me: unattainable.”
“Loki, you’re a prince, a literal god… you’ve had a horde of maidens throwing themselves at you for as long as I’ve known you. If one of us was unattainable, it was you.”
“They were only ever interested in my body, in my array of talents between the sheets.”
A warm flood of arousal washed over you, hearing him talk so casually about his own sexual prowess.
“But you, darling… you saw me. You showed interest in my mind, my ideas, my company. You asked me thoughtful questions and you actually listened when I would answer them. I was so convinced that I didn’t deserve someone like that. Someone like you. And so I kept my feelings hidden.”
“Well…” you began with a shy smirk, “I am interested in your body and your carnal talents too, you know.”
“And I don’t know if there’s anything that could delight me more than learning that about you tonight,” he said with a mischievous smile and lust-darkened eyes that lingered on your lips before darting back to your own hooded gaze.
“Kiss me, Loki, please…” you breathed.
Without hesitation, he leaned down toward you, brushing his lips against your own. Featherlight at first, but soon growing more assured and confident, claiming your lips as his. And you were more than willing to let him stake his claim.
When he finally broke the kiss, you opened your eyes to see him staring down at you reverently.
“I love you, my darling wife. And as long as my heart is beating, I promise you’ll never be alone; you’ll never feel alone again. Perhaps things in our relationship have occurred… somewhat out of the preferred order, but by some generous twist of the fates, we’ve been thrust into each other’s arms and allowed to spend the rest of our lives with our one true love.”
Your heart swelled as you stared up at him. You felt that light within you reignite, shining brighter than it ever had.
“I love you too, husband. With my whole heart.”
He bent down and claimed your mouth once again, his tongue sliding against your lips, which you happily parted to allow him entry. All of the love and desire that you’d both been harboring all these years was finally unleashed and it was conveyed in the intensity of your kiss, and in the way his hands now began to explore your body. At least, as best as they could, over the coat you were wearing.
Suddenly, you found yourself looking forward to rehearsal.
And to the jól festival.
And to the rest of your life with Loki.
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Below is the request I received from @smolvenger - I hope I did it justice, my lovely! Happiest Holidays! 🎄
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Secret Santa 2023 Taglist 🏷️ @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman
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junniieesbby · 3 months
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Shut Up and Continue What You Started|Choi Beomgyu
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Pairing: Non Idol Beomgyu x F!reader
Genre: Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Smut, Angst, Kind of Fluff.
WC: 1.6k
Rating: 18+ MDNI
Summary: When your childhood friend turned enemy sees you dance and giggle with one his best friends. He loses it, can't stand the sight of you with someone other than him. He goes to show you just how much he missed you and how incredibly sorry he was for treating you badly.
Warning: Mentions of Alcohol, Smut, Creampie, Implied Cockwarming. Let me know if I missed anything.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Nothing mentioned in this fiction represents any of the characters.
A/N: This is a very late post for my Secret Santa. @boba-beom surpriseeee it’s me Angel (although you already knew because I’m the last one to post haha). This was so fun to do part of me is nervous because I am writing this for one of my all time favorite writers here on tumblr and I wanted this to be really good! Everyone please check out all the other beauties Secret Santa posts @amoryeonjun aka @lovejoshua , @honajoong and @flwrseon 💗 give them lots of love 🥺
Angel I hope you like this👉🏻👈🏻
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
All you wanted to do was to wipe that stupid sexy smirk off his face. He was so annoyingly handsome but he got on your nerves any chance he had. Choi Beomgyu was handsome, irritating, and drove you mad.
You had known each other since the day he was born. Your moms were best friends and they had gotten pregnant at around the same time. Your mom gave birth a day before Beomgyu’s mom did, so you two were forced to be attached at the hip.
At one point he was your best friend. Someone you always went to for comfort. It all changed when you entered high school, it was like you didn’t even know him. He no longer talked to you, he stopped coming over to your house to hang out, and he even would glare at you for no apparent reason.
Here you were at your parents annual Christmas Eve party, with a glass of Prosecco in your hand staring at Beomgyu who’s all over his next girl toy. You hated to say it but it hurt, it hurt seeing someone you liked and missed be so close to another girl. This was the reason you decided to go to university in a city that was further from home. You couldn’t stand watching him mess around with yet another girl.
You wanted to forget about Beomgyu for tonight. If he liked to go and have fun with random girls and rub it in, so could you!
Walking to the dance floor you see your perfect target. Kang Taehyun, who happens to be one of Beomgyu’s Bestfriend. You walk up to his dancing form and slide your body to him. “Hey Tyun, long time no see” you say looking up at him. “Y/N!!! It’s been so long.” Taehyun said, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in for an embrace.
“I know it feels like forever. Can I dance with you?” you tell him rather shyly. Taehyun was very handsome, kind and smart. Although you and Beomgyu had a falling out Taehyun would always check up on you to make sure you were good. “You don’t even need to ask, love” Taehyun said while placing firm hands on your waist dancing to the rhythm of the song.
You two continued to dance and chatted about how life has been when suddenly you felt a pair of arms rip you from Taehyun’s embrace. “You come with me” Beomgyu says sternly then turns and looks at a smirking Taehyun “and you, I’ll deal with you later” and without another word Beomgyu drags the two of you to your room.
Once inside he slams the door shut and locks it. “What the fuck was that for Beomgyu” you said folding your arms. “Why were you dancing with him like that?” Beomgyu looks at you clearly mad. You have never seen him this visibly angry before. “Like what? We were just dancing. And it’s none of your business who I dance with and how I dance with them.” You did not know what his problem was but he wasn’t going to talk to you like that after years of not talking.
He turns to walk towards you and you slowly walk backwards until your back hits the door. Beomgyu is standing mere inches from you as he leans down his nose brushing yours. “Smiles…” You froze at the nickname he just called you. The nickname he gave you when you were kids because he said you always smiled at him. “You do not get to come back into my life after years of not talking calling me nicknames like nothing happened between us, Beomgyu” The moment you finished your sentence he crashed his lips onto yours. Years of pent up frustration, hurt, and desire were poured into that kiss.
Beomgyu’s hands started to wonder cupping your ass and lifting you slowly pushing you into the door deepening the kiss. You had never been kissed like this before, this kiss was full of lust and passion. You slowly pull away from the kiss confused as to why he was doing this.
“Y/n…look I know I am a shitty friend for not talking to you all these years, But the reason for that was because I liked you. I liked you so much it started driving me crazy. I thought not seeing you would make things better, but clearly not. You have no idea how long I have wanted to slam my lips against yours.” Beomgyu said, as he slowly brought his hand to your cheek.
You stared at him, shocked at his words. Part of you wanted to scream and yell at him for not talking to you about his feelings, because he had no idea how you felt, and the other part wanted you to grab his collar and smash your lips to his. You didn’t feel like arguing and that kiss had you wanting more. The latter of the options won as you grabbed his collar bringing him closer to you whispering “Shut up and continue what you started”.
Beomgyu smirked at your words as he kissed you passionately bringing you to your bed. “Fuck angel you look so sexy in this tight red dress Been wanting nothing more than to fuck you in it” He slowly starts to leave kisses on your neck going to your breast. He pulled your dress down a little so your cleavage could fall out. “I wish I could take my time with these beauties, but that's for another day. The dress stays I want to fuck your pretty cunt while you wear it.” He said pulling your panties down and tossing them to the side. He unzipped his pants and let his cock out stroking it a few times before he let it slide through your drenched folds. Your whines and whimpers were music to his ears. “Beomgyu, hurry up and fuck me stop the teasing” That earned you a slap to your cunt.
“Be patient baby, i've been wanting your pussy for years let me enjoy it” He didn’t even let you respond, he slid his cock in with ease. “Fuck baby you’re so wet and tight I could spend the rest of my days in your cunt” His dirty words caused you to clinch which earned a grunt from him. “Beomgyu, so good…so so good” That is all you could say your brain too fuzzy to comprehend anything other than the delicious cock that is sliding in and out of you.
Beomgyu’s hand came up to twist and play with your nipples as you reached down to start rubbing your folds for a faster relief. He quickly slapped your hand away. “You will cum with my cock and my cock only” He started to move faster. You needed him closer to you, you grabbed his tie and pulled him smashing your lips on him. Beomgyu’s cock twitched; he thought that was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. Your kiss became sloppier as your orgasm was approaching.
“You close angel?” He asked you, but he knew he could feel you clench around him. All you could do was nod. His thrusts continued but they became messy. He reached between the both of you as he was getting there and pinched your clit which sent you over the edge. Your legs started to shake from the stimulation. After a few more thrusts Beomgyu came. He leaned down and gave your forehead a kiss whispering “You did so well for me Angel”.
As he was getting up you pulled him by the collar again. “Stay, just stay please I need you to be as close to me as possible” You didn’t want him to leave you anytime soon. “I was just going to clean you up baby, but I will stay. I will never ever make the same mistake of leaving you again” He flipped the two of you so he was laying on his back. One hand playing with your hair and the other rubbing your back. “Merry Christmas Beomie…I am still mad at you, but i'm glad to be in your arms” You nozzle your head in the crook of his neck. “Merry Christmas my Angel, I am sorry I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. And you will only be in my arms from now on.” He grabbed your hand that was placed on his neck and gave it a kiss. You both slept soundly that day and woke up to a white Christmas.
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springdandelixn · 1 year
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The Great Escape
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Summary: Your chance of freedom diminishes as the prince reminds you of your place.
Warnings: noncon/dubcon, magic bondage, outdoor sex, humiliation, physical violence.
Characters: Dark!Loki x Reader
A/N: This fic is part of the Secret Santa Collection by @fictive-sl0th​. As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and reblogs will be amazing. I hope you guys enjoy! 💚
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Adrenaline courses through your veins as you run as fast as you could down the path to the docks, your sack of meager belongings bouncing at your side. You see the longboat to Vanir just up ahead, hearing the boatman calling for final passengers and a smile of relief plays on your lips, almost tasting the freedom that you’ve been yearning for since meeting the prince. 
You couldn’t miss the window of opportunity presented to you when Tove pulled you to dance with her and Brigit. You made it a point to squeeze between the towering forms of the men and the swaying bodies of the women, moving along to the music to put on a show of enjoyment and basking in the sounds of the lute and trumpets booming in the great hall as the celebration reached its peak. 
As soon as you saw Loki’s attention averted toward Lord Fandral, you immediately made to escape the festivity; stalking silently across the halls so as to not get caught by any servant or guard that is loyal to the prince. You grabbed your sack by the gates and wasted no second running away from the palace. 
You grunt as your foot gets caught in the muddy path. You pull yourself free but your slippers get stuck into the earth. Still, you pay them no mind, leaving them behind as you continue your sprint toward the boat. 
The docks finally come to view and you can’t help the tears that spring from your eyes as you feel the clutches of Loki slip from your mind but you gasp all of a sudden and stop in your tracks when you feel your throat tighten. Your knees buckle and you collapse to the ground, your hand reaching for your neck as the pressure around it intensifies, grabbing on the chain of the necklace around your throat. 
“And just where do you think you’re going, Little Mouse?” A chill fills your bones when you hear the baritone of Loki’s voice. 
“Lo—” You try to speak but the grip around your neck tightens, choking you while the emerald stone hanging on the necklace glows brightly against your skin. 
The breath is knocked out of you when you’re kicked at your side, rolling unto your back, fear creeping up your spine when you see Loki’s face above yours, angry and menacing. You gasp for air when the tension around your throat is lifted but Loki drops his foot over your chest, squirming against the dirt path as he pins you to the ground. 
“I look away for one second and I find you here, trying to flee.” He sneers and you yelp when he presses down his boot harder. 
“Please, Loki—” 
“I dress you in lavish clothes and adorn you in the finest jewelry. I give you the comforts of the palace and this is how you repay me?!” He snarls, his foot lifting from your chest but it is no reprieve as he kicks your side once more.
Your hands reach down to soothe the searing pain in your ribs but you’re not given that chance when Loki drops to his knees, flipping you back on your stomach and clamping his fingers around the back of your neck, choking once again when he pushes you further into the dirt. 
You struggle in turning your head to the side, digging your fingers into the soil as you try to push yourself off the ground, hoping you’d push him off just the same. But your strength is no match with the god, your attempts proving futile as he remains atop you, his weight pressing down on you. 
Panic surges through your veins when you feel his hand pulling at the skirts of your dress, the same one he’s given you along with the necklace before the feast, the fabric bunching up at your waist and you try to kick him away, legs flailing. You only stop when he slaps your thigh harshly, tugging at your small clothes roughly and looking at the flimsy fabric when he throws it at the side of your head.
“Loki—”
“You have no respect!” He snarls and you whimper when his hand presses against your cunt, fingers deftly moving to circle around your bud. “You have lost the privilege to say my name!” A cry is pulled from your lips when he dips two fingers into your slit, hating yourself for how your body readily responds to his touch, the slick gathering at the apex of your thighs. 
You feel his impatience as he thrusts his fingers deeper, faster, a reluctant moan slipping from your lips when he spreads them apart, stretching you wide. You try to push him off once more but he doesn’t move, only stopping any further attempts when he squeezes the sides of our neck hard. 
“Stop trying to find a way out of this.” Loki snarls, leaving you hollow when he pulls out his fingers, smearing your wetness on the inside of your thigh. Another wave of fear washes over you when you hear him fumbling with his pants from behind. 
“My prince—please,” You beg and try to reach behind you, to stop him from his brutality, but your words fall on deaf ears and your hands desist to move, wrists pinned into the dirt by his Seiðr and you’re left at his mercy, free for him to use you as he pleases.
Your tears spring free from your eyes as you whimper and continue to implore for his compassion, to release you from his wrath. His hand leaves your neck all the same and he goes to grab you by the hips, pulling you flush against his pelvis and feeling his cock brush threateningly against your cunt. 
He impales you all at once, your walls hugging him tightly as he sits inside completely. You mumble your curses against the ground, your tears staining your face and mixing in with the dirt. You feel his clothed chest press against your back, his hot breath fanning over your skin and you grunt as he snaps his hips hard, jolting your body forward and crying when your arms are pulled from your invisible restraints. 
“You may have forgotten who owns you, Little Mouse, but your body definitely remembers.” You feel his smirk against your skin, Loki pulling his hips back, leaving only the tip of his cock in your cunt before thrusting back harshly, a cry of pain retching from your throat as he begins to fuck you at a brutal pace. 
Your fingers curl against the dirt, your body rigid as you take on his wicked punishment. You keep your eyes forward, orbs locked onto the longboat and you feel all hope leave you when it sails away, your only chance of freedom slipping from your grasp. 
You close your eyes. You’re not there. You’re on the boat, floating freely toward another land where Loki cannot find you. But such thoughts diminish and your attempt to remove your spirit from his clutches proves fruitless as the sound of slapping skin and his grunts invade your senses, tying you down completely to your reality. 
Your walls flutter around his cock and you moan when he slides in deeper, the tip repeatedly ramming against the bundle of nerves hidden within. You’re panting and so is he, his hands pressing your pelvis down onto the ground, keeping your arse high for him and lifting his pelvis only to adjust his position and impaling you anew, feeling him fully once more as he takes everything from you.
His nails dig into your skin, the pain radiating throughout your body and you gasp when you feel the sudden pull at the pit of your stomach. You try to stop it, to not give him the satisfaction of bringing you pleasure despite his roughness, something you could have control over. But his fingers find your sacred bud once more, rubbing it in accord with his thrusts.
“You’re mine, Little Mouse.” He growls as he bends over you once again, his raven hair curtaining around yours and you cry when he adds pressure to the nub.
The dam within you breaks and a silent scream is pulled from your lips, Loki following suit, his groans of pleasure bouncing off the bushes and the trees as his essence mixes with yours. You slump unto the ground, tears falling afresh, and you whimper when he rolls his pelvis against your thighs, keeping himself snug inside. 
“You are nothing without me.” He whispers when he leans down once more, his voice licking against the shell of your ear. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see his emeralds piercing through your soul. 
“Everything that you are is mine.” He says menacingly, trepidation filling your heart as he presses a kiss on your dirtied cheek, sealing your fate with finality. 
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The merriment in the banquet hall fills your ears as you follow Loki from behind. The necklace he’s given you has now turned into a metal collar around your neck, a long chain shackled at the middle with the end held tightly in Loki’s grasp. 
You try to steer away from the direction of the Yule celebration, not wanting to have people witness your state of disarray. But Loki tugs on the chain harshly, having you bump against him and you bow your head, casting your eyes to the ground as you follow him with reluctance back into the hall. 
The silence that casts throughout the crowd is deafening and the gasps coming from the lips of the witnesses bare down on you, making you want to disappear even more. Your clothes are a wreck, the fabric ripped from your struggles with Loki on the ground. Dirt and mud cling to your skin, and you don’t doubt that your binds are the most prominent in their eyes. 
There is no evidence left on Loki’s form, using his magic to cleanse him from his brutality and presenting himself as the regal prince the Asgardians know him to be. He brings you with him to the high table, the prince reclaiming his seat beside his brother, and all at once the merriment resumes, laughter and music echoing in the great hall. 
“You really know how to put on a spectacle, brother.” The king, Thor, booms at Loki’s side. You grunt when he tugs you closer, Loki’s arm snaking around your waist to have you sit at the arm of his chair.
You don’t look up but you sense the king’s lingering gaze on your dirtied form and you don’t doubt that he’s known of his brother’s lecherous deeds toward you since the beginning. 
“I am simply reminding the little mouse of her place.” Loki intones and you look up when he grabs your chin and tilts your head back, forcing you to meet his emerald eyes. “Isn’t that right, pet?” You see the threat in them and you acquiesce to his words.
“Yes, my prince.”
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The words given to me were Christmas Gala, necklace and Asgard!Loki. I used Yule instead of gala since I wasn’t sure if gala is used in the world of Asgard. And this is dedicated to @fictive-sl0th​. I know it’s not your usual Christmas fic but I hope you enjoyed!
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grandlovescheme · 3 months
Text
A gift fic for @withered-rose-with-thorns
Merry belated Christmas and only the best in the new year, from your secret santa 🩷
Running into Love
When Rhaenyra arrived at the family winter estate two days before Christmas, her younger siblings were already there. Both her brother and her sister welcomed her, showing her how much they’d missed her, by throwing snowballs at her before she was even fully out of her car.
“No fair!” she yelled before ducking at the rear, gathering all the snow she could in her bare hands to take her revenge.
The twins teamed up against her, thoroughly kicking her ass, and when they finally made it into the house an hour later, she was soaked through and her body ached in multiple places where her siblings had managed to hit her. 
“Hope you welcomed everyone else the same way,” Rhaenyra huffed when she was getting out of the wet coat and boots in the hall. The silver haired teenagers grinned in unison. Little creeps.
Alyssa shrugged. “You're the first one here, not counting mom and the little oaf.”
“Don't worry. The rest will meet the same fate,” Baelon said dramatically, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. 
Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. “Make sure to get Daemon. We need to tire him out. If he catches a cold before the run, even better.”
Her siblings both made matching, evilly gleeful faces, nodding along. For a few minutes they discussed their plans in hushed whispers before their paths parted, Rhaenyra heading up the stairs to greet her family while the twins stayed behind. 
She stepped into the opulent room upstairs alone, her lips immediately splitting into a smile.
“Oh hey there.”
Two silver-blond heads by the table turned, her mother and her smaller copy, both of them grinning at the sight of her.
“Honey, you’re here.”
“Nyra!”
“There's my favorite baby sister!”
Visenya slipped off Aemma’s lap to run at her. She was wearing a red Christmas dress, with snowflake and tree prints and a big bow tied at the waist, fully festive with gingerbread man clips in her hair. She jumped at Rhaenyra when she was close enough and she embraced her little sister, able to lift her off her feet easily to spin her around. 
“I missed you,” Visenya breathed, and when she set her back to her feet Rhaenye smoothed down her silky curls gently.
“Missed you too, peanut. Have you been here long?”
Her mother rose to get a hug too, before responding, “We only got here last night. Your father stayed in the city with Daemon to finish some last minute business. They should both get here later today.” 
“Mhh, mhhm, I see.” That was a tidbit of information she was glad to receive. 
“Where are the twins?”
“I don't know. Probably waiting at the door for any newcomers to ambush them with a snowball fight. Though if that's the case they'll be waiting a long time, Laena texted me they're not coming until tomorrow.”
Aemma sighed. “Just us for tonight then. I'll go find the two of them.” 
Her mother stalked out of the room, leaving Rhaenyra with her six year old sister. She booped her nose, making Visenya grin wider at her. “Did you get into a snowball fight with them too?” 
“No! I managed to run away in time.” The girl pulled Rhaenyra's hand to the table. “Come see what I made!”
Proudly she pointed to the numerous pieces of paper scattered on the table, all bearing text in different colors. One said Go my fave Targaryen! The one next to it screamed You can do it! in bright pink. And the one Visenya sheepishly lifted herself to show her read You got it Nyra! with drawn hearts and kissy faces around it. 
“I’m not allowed to run with you guys but I'll cheer you on.” She came closer for a little hug, barely reaching Rhaenyra's chest. “I hope you win. It's no fair that it's always uncle Daemon!”
She stroked her little sister’s hair gently. Visenya’s health got in the way of her running with her family, but Rhaenyra strongly suspected she wouldn’t want to get into it even if she could. Her sister was an adorable little lazyball, content to never move if not absolutely necessary. 
“I know right? Don't worry, I trained all year. Got into the school’s track team. I'm gonna kick his a - butt.”
Visenya giggled with her hands covering her mouth, glancing shyly over her shoulder to make sure her mother wasn't there.
“Will you buy us all ice cream when you win like uncle does?”
“Uh. No. I wasn't planning on it… ” Her sister's demeanor fell a bit, but she quickly raised a hand to stroke her cheek back into a smile. “Hey. You know what? I think uncle Daemon will buy us all ice cream anyway, in celebration of his first loss in, like, a decade.”
Visenya brightened up again. “I'll get lemon! I love lemon. What's your favorite, Nyra?”
The annual Targaryen three-mile race had been taking place at Dragonstone for decades. It had started with her grandparents’ parents, when they wanted to distract their many children on Christmas Eve, to have some peace and time to finish preparing everything for the next day. With such a big family, they needed all the help they could get. 
And so they'd promised a big prize for the winner, remaining the same to this day, but as her grandfather Baelon had told her one time when she was still a child, sitting by his chair in the Dragonstone parlor, the prize had not truly been needed. In reality, the siblings had loved having something to compete in, to possibly be better at something than the rest of the children. For them, the bragging rights had been all the prize they needed.
Yet, it stuck. All the Targaryen children ever since had been exposed to this unusual Christmas tradition, and while a few fought hard to avoid it, claiming sickness and achy limbs to get out of it, some relished in it. Most of Rhaenyra's family was highly competitive, and this was the perfect opportunity to beat everyone. 
This year was different, though. This year it was personal. 
Rhaenyra's uncle Daemon was currently holding the record, his winning streak seemingly impossible to break. He'd won last year, as well as the year before that… and before that. Well, the truth was, the only years he hadn't ended up being the winner, years she could barely remember, were the ones he couldn't get back from business trips in time to participate… and annihilate them all. 
It was safe to say he was the Targaryen three-mile Christmas race champion. But no more. 
Rhaenyra had been training mercilessly, almost cruelly to her body, to make sure his trail of winnings would be broken this year. She hadn't cared as much the previous years… but this time, she needed the win badly, after the year she'd had. University was kicking her ass, draining her mentally and socially, she lost her part-time job after the cafe hired the owner’s granddaughter instead. Then her stupid boyfriend she’d only been dating out of boredom dumped her on her birthday. In the weeks since then she only had too much time on her hands to fully grasp the magnitude of her issues. Troubling… issues that became glaringly obvious each time she thought about her uncle.
Ugh, no, she would not go there.
She needed this. A win in what her family considered the most important event of the year would turn it all around. 
She was certain of it.
… It was better not to dwell on why it mattered so much to her. 
When Daemon and her father arrived hours later, she watched the snowball fight from the upstairs living room window. 
They got ambushed the same way she had, but the twins - and little Visenya - clearly favored their father, leaving him to get out unscathed while focusing most of their energy and snowballs on Daemon. She grinned as he scrambled to fight back, his clothes and hair getting wet immediately, yet a smile undeniably blooming on his face. 
Her heart lurched seeing it, and she quickly dropped the curtain and turned away from the window to dash down the stairs, joining her mother in the kitchen instead. 
She feigned nonchalance as the group loudly barged inside of the house, shouting and scream-laughing in the hall, getting out of the wet clothes. 
Aemma was smiling into the mugs she was filling with steaming hot chocolate. Her mother had no competitive spirit, something only Visenya of her children had inherited but having the house full every holiday season always brought a smile to her face. There was nothing her mother  loved more than her family. This was her most favorite time of the year. 
Rhaenyra sprinkled mini marshmallows into the mugs and together they brought them to the living room. Everyone quieted down as if by magic; or, more likely, by the delicious smell following their steps, rising from the mugs. 
Her mother welcomed Viserys with a wide smile and a kiss, and Rhaenyra couldn't help but glance at Daemon's face as she placed his mug in front of him. 
“Uncle Daemon.” 
“Hey sweetheart.”
And here she was, blushing like a teenage fool.
“Hope you’re ready for tomorrow.” 
“You bet. I hear I have an unrelenting opponent this year.” He took the mug from her, and their fingers brushed slightly, just for a second, yet still making her blood sing in her veins. 
“Mhm. Say goodbye to the trophy. It’s going to a new owner this year.”
“We’ll see.” His eyes sparkled as he tipped the mug and took a sip. She watched with her pulse spiking as he licked his lips, gathering the dark droplets of chocolate with his tongue, before it disappeared in his mouth again. His brows furrowed, and he looked down into his mug wordlessly. 
“What?” she asked innocently. 
“Hmm. Nothing. New recipe?” 
“I don’t know. Mom made it, like every year.”
“Mhm.” He placed his mug back on the table in front of him, and she could hear the hum of other voices and her siblings’ excited giggles, but it all faded away. She couldn't make out a single word as she stared at her uncle's rings, adorning his long, thick fingers and glistening in the low Christmas lights hanging behind him.
Um. What were they talking about again?
“Is Harwin joining us tomorrow?”
Aand the spell was broken with a bucket of cold water. 
Rhaenyra sighed, shaking her head. “You don't know? I thought mom would have spilled by now. Um, we broke up.”
Something shadowed his eyes, but it was too dark in the room to be able to see… what. “Oh. No, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” His hand reached out, warm from the mug of hot chocolate, and she fought against a shiver. 
“Don’t be. I’m not sorry. It’s for the best.” Despite her words, she accepted his comfort, squeezing his hand back.
“Well then. Good. I never liked him anyway.” 
She squinted her eyes as she glared at him playfully. “You’re saying that now. Because we broke up.” 
“No, Rhaenyra. I’ve been saying it ever since you first brought him along. But you just thought I was being an overprotective uncle.” 
Now she scrunched her nose up. “Well, weren’t you?” 
Daemon leaned back into his chair, the connection of their hands severing. “Yes. I was also right on the money, though.” 
Rhaenyra only shook her head. As much as she’d love to blame the break up on her ex, it had hardly been his fault. All of this… was on her. 
He could have broken up with her any other day during the year, though, except for right before the holidays, on her fucking birthday. That had been a dick move. 
She picked up her own drink in her nervousness, to have something to do, tracing the raised lines of the sleigh and Santa’s bearded face on the mug with her thumb. She didn’t speak, letting the gentle cracking of the fire and the messy conversations next to them fill the silence, until he spoke again,
“What do you need? A shoulder to cry on or someone to break his nose?” His hand appeared again to tap her nose. “Or both? I’m more than capable of both, sweetheart.” 
With a smile teasing the corners of her mouth, she looked up again to find him leaning towards her, his serious eyes dark, set right on her, gauging her reaction. “I’m fine. No need for any of that.” 
“Are you sure? I know you weren’t together long but… You seemed really… into him.” He spoke slowly, carefully choosing his words, and she searched the guarded expression on his face for a few seconds before shrugging again. 
“I’m sure. It was… ah, complicated, between us.”
To avoid his intense stare she lifted her mug and took a long sip of her hot… at this point tepid, chocolate.
“What do you mean? Were you not… exclusive?” 
“No, no. We were. I just…” Swallowing down, she wondered how one could ever bring something like this up… Especially sober, and surrounded by her whole family. As if. “I… God, I can’t tell you this.” 
He frowned, and did the worst thing he possibly could. He got up and… sat closer to her, on the couch right by her side instead of across from her. Her heart jumped into her throat, she looked around the room in panic; no one paid them any mind, though. Her siblings were playing a board game on the floor, and her parents sat snuggled side by side, matching smiles on their faces, watching their kids argue over the game. It was as if… it was just her, and her uncle, in their own little bubble. 
Some things might have changed with her growing up, but in the root of them, they stayed the same. 
Rhaenyra looked down into her mug, her heart hammering. 
“Why not? You can talk to me about anything.” 
A humorless chuckle escaped her. “Not this. You’re on my side now but if I tell you… this, you’ll - you’ll think I’m a major bitch.” 
“Oh please.” She saw Daemon’s hand from the corner of her eye, nearing her again… and finally touching her cheek, pushing away some stray locks of her hair. “I’ll always be on your side, even when you are a major bitch. That's what uncles are for.” 
“Even if I kill someone in cold blood?” “Hmm… especially then.”
She poked his side with a chuckle, then sighed. “Fine, look. The thing is, I was never fully… in, emotionally. I was clinging to him because he was there, he was convenient, and… I needed… a distraction. But that’s all it was, and he finally got sick of it, of me, calling me out on my bullshit. Like I told you, it was all my fault.” 
Harwin had told her much more than that, though… He’d brought up how weird her family was, how normal people didn’t marry their cousins… and how creepily close she was to her uncle. Apparently it was strange that she still sat in his lap sometimes, that she called him first whenever something went right or wrong for her, and that she canceled plans with anyone, her friends or boyfriend, to hang out with him instead, whenever he mentioned he was in town. 
He could never quite grasp how close-knit her entire family was, and it ended up being the last drop for him. Really, they had been all ridiculous reasons to dump her… but not entirely out of hand, either. Not when one knew the real secret she held in her heart. 
“See.” Daemon embraced her with one arm, bringing her closer, and her eyes closed automatically as her nose filled with his clean, fresh scent. “Still on your side,” he assured her in a soft whisper, and Rhaenyra smiled, her body relaxing into his comforting hug. She felt his lips move, tickling her ear, as he continued, “I’m not letting you win tomorrow, though.” 
With a snorted laugh she pulled back, and punched his shoulder. “I don’t need it! I’m beating you, old man!”
She woke first, but she wasn’t alone for long. Soon, the twins tiptoed down the stairs, gleefully joining her in continuing with their plan to win her this year's Targaryen race. 
By the time everyone else was awake, including Daemon, they were ready, everything set to go. 
Her uncle sauntered into the kitchen with a scowl and dark circles under his eyes, but the second he noticed her sitting there with coffee, some of the tension in his face drained away. 
Ah. What the sight of coffee could do.
“Morning. You're not looking too good.” It was a lie. He did look a little worse for wear but still so unfairly good. She wanted to stroke that pale skin… take a bite out of those arm muscles - 
“Couldn't sleep.” As he said it he reached for his mug, and Rhaenyra could swear she heard the twins’ evil laugh from somewhere behind her. She resisted the urge to turn around and shush them. Daemon drained the mug, his throat moving with every swallow, and her fingers twitched with the need to touch his throat as he swallowed…
He placed his empty coffee on the kitchen table, and she blinked a few times, hoping she didn't look as flustered as she felt. “Hm. That was pretty sweet. I don't usually sweeten my coffee but damn, I really needed that.”
“Mhh, hmm.” 
“Hopefully it'll wake me up. You slept okay?” he asked, his gaze traveling over her face, as if looking for any signs of a sleepless night. 
“Like a baby.” Rhaenyra grinned, and his eyes gentled, staring at her. 
“Good. You need to be in your best form if you're hoping to beat me.”
“I am going to beat you.”
“We'll see.” 
“Have some breakfast, uncle!” Visenya appeared, hair in two little braids, another adorable Christmas dress on. She extended both hands full with a tray of all kinds of sweet pastries, still hot from the oven. Daemon smiled at his youngest niece, stroking her cheek as he shook his head. 
“I'm good, darling. I'll just have some eggs.”
Visenya's blue eyes filled with tears in a matter of a second. “But - but I made these.” She sniffed, the tray starting to tremble in her hands. “Won't - won't you try?”
Rhaenyra hid her smile as Daemon immediately softened, cooing and apologizing.
“Of course! If you made these, I have to try. What would the pastry chef recommend to me?”
She made him eat four pieces of pastry, her pleading eyes impossible to say no to. When he finally gently pushed the girl aside, claiming he was too full to eat another bite, Rhaenyra got up with a grin. 
“Anyway. I’m off to welcome the Velaryons. Get ready to have your butt kicked, uncle.”
“Only in your dreams, niece.” 
They both narrowed their eyes at each other, and she walked off without another word. Before she rounded the corner she glanced over her shoulder one more time, and caught him staring as she walked away, his gaze burning somewhere below her waist. 
Her cousins were both participating, but had no idea of the bigger conspiracy at play. It was a secret amongst only the Targaryen children, and Rhaenyra felt strangely protective over the scheming of her siblings. Their plan was silly but brought them a little closer together, something they desperately needed ever since Rhaenyra had  moved out to university two states away, leaving them behind in King’s Landing. 
This was just for them. 
“Isn’t he a little too old for this?” Laenor asked as she  stretched with her cousins in the garden, every inch covered in snow. Rhaenyra snorted, and peeked over her shoulder, finding Daemon glaring from a few feet away, clearly hearing every single word. 
And sure enough, he bit out grumpily, “You can’t kick the ruling champion out of the race until he loses, children.” 
“That’s a made up rule,” Laena called back from beside her, and he squinted at her.
“This whole thing is a made up tradition. Take it or leave it.” 
Her cousin huffed and puffed, though the corners of her mouth were twitching, and they continued their warm up until Viserys called them over. 
It was time. 
Rhaenyra’s palms were sweating. As they took their positions in a well ordered line, her eyes remained glued to her uncle. He still seemed out of his element, barely paying any attention, but she knew he could kill this route even with his eyes closed. No matter what her siblings had done to knock him off his game, she still needed to give this her all. And she would. The Targaryen prize would be changing hands soon enough.
Even if it was just an old compass that had once belonged to her great grandfather, accompanying him on his many travels over the world. The compass itself… was not the point, and they all knew it. 
Rhaenyra’s ponytail whipped her in the face as the cold winter wind picked up. The waves surrounding the island crashed loudly around them, almost swallowing Viserys’ introduction. As if anyone needed any. Every traditional participant knew them by heart. 
“Two loops around the island, three miles in total. Do not stray from the shoveled trail, do not take any shortcuts. Whoever reaches us first in the second lap… is the winner.” Her father smiled, and Aemma next to him huddled farther into her thick coat. Little Visenya in front of them gingerly lifted her You got it Nyra! sign, and Rhaenyra smiled, sending an air kiss and a wave. 
“Good luck, darling.” 
She eyed her uncle up and down, not missing how good he looked in his tight t-shirt and running shorts, all of his muscles on display, taunting her, distracting her. That cruel cruel man. 
Targaryens always ran hot, it was true. That was one of the main things even making this race possible in late December without them putting their health at risk. But still she shivered as she took her own shirt off, throwing it to the cheering section, and straightening up in her sports bra. 
“Don’t need luck,” she threw back, keeping her gaze at him only long enough to see his eyes drop and snag on her chest. “But I think you might.” 
With the megaphone signaling the start of the race, she took off, and left him behind in the dust. She fought hard to keep her smug smile at bay; celebrating too early would only bring her bad luck. 
Rhaenyra ran like the devil was chasing her. And in a way, he was. She felt Daemon behind her already, way too soon for comfort, but she knew without looking that it was him. She would always know, without needing a single glance to confirm; the feeling of a familiar, warm blanket at her back was impossible to confuse with anyone else. 
This familiar blanket was not happy, though. “Cheater!” he fumed, and she could swear he was so close his breath caressed the back of her neck. Fucking hell, somehow even filled to the brim with heavy pastries and decaf, he caught up to her within a few minutes. She needed to do better!
“What!” she huffed back without looking at him, forcing her legs to go faster. “Never - seen a woman running with a top - before? I’ve had this old thing for - years!”
“Yeah, I can tell.” 
What the hell did that even - 
She saw him then, from the corner of her eye, gaining on her, and panic overwhelmed her. With a gasp she let out a loud, garbling cough, and somewhere behind her a person shouted, and a body thudded to the ground. 
“Ow, ow! Crap! I tripped!” her sister Alyssa howled. “It hurts, it hurts! My ankle!” Rhaenyra was racing forward, the sobbing voice becoming fainter and fainter, but Daemon visibly wavered behind her. When she looked back, breathing hard, she saw him hesitating, his pace slowing as his niece whimpered, “Won’t you help me, uncle? It hurts. Ow, I can’t… I can’t get up.” 
“Goddamnit. Come on, Alyssa. I got you.”
What a good uncle.
The cheering of her family soon faded, and then it was just her and the island hidden underneath a blanket of snow. She worked on regulating her breathing but when she glanced over her shoulder again, hearing the thudding of approaching steps, there her uncle was, back and already hot on her heels. What the fuck!
“Any - other - planned - distractions?” Daemon gasped out from behind her. 
She was only able to exhale an irritated gush of air. The turn of the island was close now, and the cheering gained volume again. Visenya's bright dress and slogans came to view first, and seeing them worked like magic, propelling Rhaenyra forward faster.
“Yes, Nyra, go! You got it! You got it!”
She saw Alyssa resting against a bare tree out of the trail’s path, nestled in a coat and face rid of any pain, but her eyes were sharp and intense as she watched the race. She didn't say a word to encourage her sister, but Rhaenyra still felt it from her. 
“Oh no, your shoelaces are untied, uncle!” Alyssa shouted instead. 
Daemon ignored his younger niece, focusing fully on beating the eldest one. 
The second lap was brutal. Daemon overtook her as soon as their audience disappeared from view, and one quick check of the other participants showed both of her cousins were nowhere near them. They were only small dots in the distance along with her brother. 
It was now just them. 
Rhaenyra glared ahead at her uncle's ass. Distractingly well formed, tight ass. She had no business salivating over it, but it had no business looking this goddamn good. 
He was getting old, shouldn't he be getting less attractive too?!
No. It was just her fucking luck that her uncle was one of those men who only got hotter with age. Great.
Rhaenyra wavered, her foot catching on an uneven blob of snow, and with a growl she shook herself out of the trance.  
He totally did that on purpose.
As the end of the second - and last - loop appeared, Rhaenyra caught up to Daemon. His straining muscles were right next to her, their bodies moved forward in sync, twin puffs of smoke leaving their mouths. She felt his stare but decided to ignore it, her eyes, burning and watering, pinned to the finish line. So close. Yet just as close as Daemon.
Come on, come on! She could do it! 
With only a few meters remaining, she finally allowed her head to turn, and found her uncle still looking at her, unbothered by the track that he should be paying attention to.
His eyes were blown wide with surprise, staring at her like he'd never seen her before. Perhaps he hadn't expected her to do this well. He must have counted on losing her after a few minutes into the race, yet here she was, by his side til the very end. 
His gaze stayed on her even as they crossed the finish line, and somehow they crashed together, their bodies tumbling to the ground in one clumsy heap.
“Fuck!” she yelped, the sudden feel of him against her mostly bare flesh making her skin erupt in gooseflesh. Daemon's arms wrapped around her to protect her from the fall, but they both still ended up on their sides, falling painfully in the snow. The crowd cheered in an awkward, muted mumble, clearly unsure who the winner was. 
For a few blissful seconds, Rhaenyra didn't care. She felt her uncle's hands on her naked waist, his fingers spread wide, pressing into her with gentle pressure. He was sweaty, just like she was, but the dampness of his skin and the unmistakable smell of him only made her shudder in desire. 
He was breathing hard, his jaw clenching under her stare, and when she hesitantly dragged it up to his eyes they seemed to be smoldering. And in those quiet moments she could almost believe he didn't care either. About the prize or bragging rights. About the principle of winning every year. 
Then his hand moved to cup her hip, as if contemplating bringing her closer to him, and Rhaenyra jerked away from this strange limbo. She untangled herself from him and hopped to trembling feet. 
Her family was staring, some with confusion, some with suspicion or glee. 
And it was her father who finally spoke, 
“So. I think it was a tie?”
As Rhaenyra licked a stray drop of lemon sorbet off her ring finger, her eyes automatically flew across the room. Daemon sat at the makeshift throne of Dragonstone, his seat for the upcoming year, with a mint ice cream cone in one hand almost entirely gone. Laena must have said something funny to him because he barked out a laugh, nodding along with her, making Rhaenyra's blood boil in her veins. 
Fucking hell.
What a disaster.
“You okay, honey?” 
“Yep.”
“Hmm. That glare says otherwise.” Her mother squeezed her petite body next to Rhaenyra, where she was taking up most of the space of the couch. Lifting a hand, Aemma smoothed back some strands of Rhaenyra's hair, still wet from the shower she'd taken after the race.
“Just… pissed at myself.” She looked away from Daemon's grinning face. “I couldn't beat him even with cheating. There's really no hope for me.”
She didn't mind sharing the victory with Daemon… not per se. But it still burned, the disappointment in herself sinking into her bones; she couldn't do anything right this year. 
“Of course there's hope,” Aemma admonished her. “You're getting better and he's only getting older.”
Rhaenyra had to laugh, some of the icy self resentment chipping away. For a second she thought she saw Daemon looking at her from the corner of her eye, her breathing hitching immediately, but turning her head his way offered the sight of him still fully entranced by her cousin.
Well.
“You know…” Her mother's voice turned quiet, and suspiciously innocent. “It isn't anything strange. I hope you're not beating yourself up over it.”
“Ah, you know, considering I busted my ass for a year and planned this elaborate sabotage - “
“Not about that.” Aemma sighed, and bumped Rhaenyra's side with her own to make her glance back at her. “About you… and him.” Her meaningful glance over Rhaenyra's head told her everything she needed to know without even following her gaze. 
She went bright red. “Mom. There's not - nothing - “
“No, I know. Shh, it's okay, don't freak out. I know nothing's happening. But I hope you're not beating yourself up over wanting… something to happen.” 
Gods, was she so obvious? 
She stared at her quickly melting ice cream cone. “Mom, please… let's not. It's already mortifying enough as it is.”
“Why?” Her mother leaned closer and whispered into her ear, “It is the Targaryen way. Your father is my first cousin, you know what, don't you?”
Sheepishly, she nodded. The entangled Targaryen relationships were well known in the family, but this was… different. This was her… and her uncle. She was much younger than him. She could imagine how weird and disgusting he'd find the thought of them… together, after having watched her grow up…
He'd want nothing to do with her like that, she was sure of it.
“Honey, I know for a fact - “
“Co-winner.” 
They both looked up at Daemon who stopped by the couch, his smile still on but dimmed now that Laena had gone to the bathroom. Hmpf. 
“Doesn't really roll off the tongue,” Rhaenyra complained bitterly. Aemma got up and walked off silently, leaving them alone, and her daughter glared at her mother’s back.
“Come on. It is your seat as well.” He pointed his thumb behind his shoulder, but she shook her head. 
“I don't think there's enough room for the both of us.” There never had been two winners. She supposed there was a first time for everything. 
Daemon’s lips curled into a sly smile. “You can always sit on my lap.”
Her heart did an embarrassing jump in her chest. “Hmm, I don't know. I was told it is weird.”
“What is?”
“To… sometimes still sit on my uncle's lap.”
His smile melted away, replaced by a frown. “Who told you that?”
“Doesn't matter.”
“No, it does. Who?” When the only response she gave was a break of their eye contact, he sighed, and asked in a not well hidden disgust, “Was it Harwin?” Rhaenyra shrugged. “Well, then I'm even more glad that you broke up. I'd hate for you to date someone who thinks it's weird you sit on your uncle's lap.”
She felt her lips starting to twitch. “Right. We don't want that.”
“That we don't.”
“No such negativity in our lives, hm?”
“Exactly. Now come.” He extended a hand. “Your well deserved seat is waiting.” 
She knew he was talking about the throne… the throne she half deserved. She knew it. And yet when he sat down and brought her to his lap, she couldn't help her silly thoughts wander. 
They wandered. And she yearned.
“Fucking hell.”
“Shh. You'll wake the whole house up.”
Daemon cursed again, but this time under his breath. “You scared me. What are you doing here, sitting in the dark like a movie villain?”
Rhaenyra tapped her fingers against the kitchen table, unable to keep the nervous tick at bay. “Couldn't sleep.”
“Oh, really. How strange. The same happened to me last night.”
Her lips thinned out. “Weird.”
“Indeed.” He took a seat across from her, and she couldn't see much in the darkness but she did see he was shirtless.
Wonderful.
“Is - is your insomnia prevailing?” she made herself ask, her voice embarrassingly high and squeaky. 
A chuckle. “No. I'm tired but my mind is too awake to sleep.”
“Hm. Same.” Her eyes were drawn to him. Always drawn to him, like a moth to the flame, uncaring of the danger lurking. She already felt like she caught fire - this desire had been burning inside of her for years, slowly but surely ridding her of sanity. She'd had crushes before but none of them had felt like this. 
Targaryens really were strange.
“You know,” she said to distract herself, “it was me. I… I wanted to weaken you, to have a better chance, because… no matter how much I trained I still didn't believe in myself. And look at that, you beat me anyway. You - you deserve the win all by yourself.” 
She'd really thought it'd make her feel better. Even if slightly cheating, she knew how much work she'd put into it. It'd still feel good, deserved. But now… she was starting to doubt it. Perhaps there was nothing to make her feel better. Perhaps she just needed to suck it all up.
“I know,” Daemon hummed easily. Rhaenyra blinked to bring herself back to the present. 
“W - what?”
“Did you think you were being slick? Please, sweetheart, I know you like the back of my hand.”
She felt her face go up in flames. “Oh. Um.”
Her fingers were tapping against the table furiously now, but she couldn't stop it, even as the noise grew louder and more annoying. Then her uncle's hand covered hers, and the weight of his palm pressed her fingers flat against the wooden surface. 
“It's alright. I thought it was cute.”
She let out an undignified snort. “Cute.”
“Yeah. The way your eyes glittered. Giggling like a schoolgirl. Unable to hide your glee as you and your siblings sabotaged me. Cutest thing I've ever seen.”
“Pft. Right.” His thumb ran back and forth over her hand, soothing. She relaxed into the chair. “Well. Good thing I'm cute then, if nothing else.”
She sounded like a bitter old lady, and a fresh wave of resentment washed over her. Daemon tutted though.
“Rhaenyra. No. I think you're looking at this all wrong. Listen… I gave it my all. My soul almost left my body, and I barely cleared the finish line. The tumble at the end? My legs gave out.”
She was smiling now, biting into her cheek from the inside to stop the giggles. “You're just saying that to make me feel better.”
“I wish. It's the truth, though. I'm willing to bet you'll leave me in the dust next year. You'll probably be inside, lounging on your throne by the time I even make it to the end.”
“You're so full of shit.”
Now she was laughing at the image of him barely crawling the last few meters to where their family gathered, cheering for them.
“My misery makes you so cheerful?” Though Daemon sounded pretty happy himself, a smile clear in his voice. She thought she saw it, too, in the dark, even the hint of it almost stopping her heart. 
At some point their hands on the table changed positions and were now locked, intertwined, her smaller palm fitting perfectly into his larger one. 
And she felt it again. The longing. To have Daemon… in all ways. To joke and tease and reminisce and then kiss and cuddle and tumble into bed together to have intense sex every night… Was that too much to ask for?
“Rhaenyra? What's the matter?”
“N - nothing.”
His chair creaked as he leaned forward. Oh, Gods.
His smell washed over her, the familiarity of it so comforting. She remembered burrowing into his arms as a small child, her nose pressed against his neck as he embraced her, and she'd inhaled the very same scent into her lungs. Cedar and rain. He always smelled… like Dragonstone. Like home.
“You can tell me anything, sweetheart,” he purred into the gap between them, smaller now, but it might as well be a thousand feet wide, she was scared and trembling all the same. 
‘It is the Targaryen way.’
Right. 
But what if he - 
“Anything,” he repeated, like he could read her mind, like he wanted to coax her into finally spilling her secret. 
Rhaenyra licked her lips, suddenly parched. “Um, I… I was thinking… You know, we - we are… close, and I wondered…”
What was she saying? 
Instead of babbling, she shut her mouth, and wasn't speaking at all. For a second she closed her eyes and cursed herself internally. 
They both stayed silent for a few heartbeats until he spoke again, clearly coming to the conclusion she wasn't about to continue on her own. “You almost got me, you know that?” 
Her mind whirled, trying to understand what he was talking about. “Um. What?”
Rhaenyra felt his feather light touch then, pulling her hair away from her neck, tugging it behind her ear. She went hot all over.
“I knew I wouldn't fumble the race. Not even exhausted and so full I could barely move. I was confident I'd make you work for it…” The tip of his thumb pressed to her hammering pulse, and she almost moaned out loud like some touch starved virgin.
Well. Not that far from reality.
“But then,” he breathed, “you took your shirt off. And ran off in that tiny bra of yours. I almost had a heart attack right there.”
Rhaenyra closed her eyes. Her numb body was awakening, every nerve ending sparking to life with his whispered words. 
“It's - it's not - tiny,” was the only thing she could muster. 
Was this actually happening?
Or had her exhausted mind conjured this fantasy?
“Rhaenyra, your tits were spilling out. I'm convinced you wore it to torture me.” Daemon moved, his hot breath hitting her neck, and she was ready to faint. “Or do you have no idea what you do to me? Are you blind to my every reaction to you?” He tsked, and his lips pressed to her neck, covering her pulse in a soft kiss. 
Oh Gods. Holy fucking hell.
“I - I…”
She needed to get a grip. She was an adult woman, for crying out loud, and she'd had people do much more to her than kiss her neck. Why was she such a mess now?
Of course, she knew why. None of the people touching her had been her uncle.
Daemon turned his head, the wet slide of his mouth climbing up her cheek. “Do you want to feel what you do to me, Rhaenyra?”
His hand dragged hers off the table, their joint touch settling lightly on his lap. On his erection, pronounced through the sweatpants he was wearing. Oh fuck.
Swallowing thickly she fought the overwhelming urge to squeeze, to fondle, to rub. “I had no idea…” 
Had her desire to be normal and ignore all her true feelings completely blinded her to his own lust? 
“I would have told you years ago… But you were always in a relationship, and always with someone who… looked nothing like me.” A soft, humorless chuckle warmed the side of her face. 
Her chest pinched with regret. Of course… Her string of partners was very telling when she looked back at them. Alicent in high school. Criston after graduation. Harwin in university. They were all very obviously… nothing like him. 
Rhaenyra closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She understood what he was telling her. She finally heard it, she felt it against her hand. 
And so she turned her head just an inch, and parted her lips, pressing them gingerly against her uncle's. He exhaled heavily, like a huge weight dropped from his shoulders, and surged forward, both of his hands raising to cup her cheeks. To hold her close, to keep her in place. As if she'd try to run away.
Daemon's tongue caressed her lips, gently asking for permission to do more, and when she allowed him in, all the gentleness evaporated. His kisses were hard, deep, angry ,or perhaps desperate. He supped the breath from her mouth and didn't let her stray from him to take more air into her lungs. 
Offering no complaint, Rhaenyra grasped his hair in one hand and lifted the other from his lap, wrapping it around his forearm; her anchor, preventing her from slipping and falling. 
She knew nothing would save her from this falling, though.
Rhaenyra gasped for air greedily when he pulled back. Her lips felt swollen from the ferocity of his kisses, but as soon as she could, she leaned back in. 
There was no telling how long they sat there, kissing again and again in the dark. Perhaps twenty minutes, perhaps three hours. She knew it didn't truly matter, though. It would not be enough either way.
In the silence surrounding them, he rested his forehead against hers. Their breathing was returning to normal, but her chest still felt like it was growing three sizes. 
Rhaenyra traced his smile with her fingertips. “You better not let me win next time,” she whispered.
The smile under her touch widened. “So you're not canoodling with me just to get me to go easy on you?”
“I don't need it. I'll kick your ass fair and square.”
He hummed, and tipped his head to kiss her again. “We'll start running together. Who better to train you than the seven year champion?”
“Pft. I made it into a tie even without your help, thank you very much.”
“Hmm, but with cheating.”
“It wasn't actually cheating. I only helped myself a little - “
He cut her excuses off with his mouth, and she happily let him. 
Being a co-winner wasn't so bad...
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“Snow Bound”
A Secret Santa drabble for @peachyjinx
CW: implied smut, mentions of m!masturbation, a hint of Dom!Loki
Word Count: ~600
Summary: A winter storm keeps you and Loki stuck in a hotel room for an extra night. What WILL you do with yourselves?
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There was no denying it: you were stranded. 
After going on a short mission for Stark with your partner, Loki, you found yourselves unable to head off the massive Nor’Easter that was, according to the radio, ‘crawling up the coast’. Thus, you were stuck in a tiny hotel room about three hours north of New York City, and probably would be there for days. 
You leaned against the window, staring into the night, watching snow accumulate underneath a streetlight at an alarming rate. Sighing deeply, you bit your lip and muttered bitterly to yourself while Loki took advantage of the limited hot water in the shower. 
“I just wanted to get home before I died of old age,” you groaned as you traced little circles into the frost on the window mindlessly. “I’m so tired.”
“Oh? Because I’ve been enjoying myself quite well, my little snow bunny.” 
You smiled without turning around. “Done with your shower already, Loki?”
The sexy, deep voice answered you. “Oh yes, and I’m ready for you.”
“Ready for what?” you asked, reflexively turning around, gasping as you were caught off guard by the sight in front of you. 
For there stood Loki, dripping wet and wearing nothing but a grin, his cock pointed right at you. His smile was dark and sexy, stretched so widely across his face it almost looked like it would break in half, were it not for the rows of perfect teeth lining his lips. His long, dark locks were plastered to the sides of his face, as well as his shoulders.
You let out a nervous laugh. “You’re dripping on the floor!” 
Loki licked his lip, looking at you as if he wanted to throw you to the ground and fuck you into the floor until springtime. He looked rabid…rabid and hungry. 
“And I imagine you’re soaked as well, at the sight of me,” your lover replied. “I must admit, pet, that the idea of being trapped here alone with you…it’s gotten me hard. You are at my mercy all night, trapped here alone, where I can perform anything on you without a single soul catching wise. Oh, Y/N, I had to fuck my palms in the shower, and I’m afraid that still not satisfied, as you can see.”
You felt your cheeks go so hot you could melt the snow outside. 
Loki continued. “So prepare yourself, Y/N. I’m going to milk my pleasure from you until the storm passes, and you’re going to howl my name into the winter winds as you cry out for me all night.”
The words alone sent your brain into a hot, fuzzy, eager mess. 
Mumbling shyly under your breath, you remarked: “I had no idea being snowbound was a turn-on for you, Loki.”
“Is that the word for it? Snow-bound?” he asked, sauntering up to you until there was no room between your chests. The hot water rolling down his pecs landed on your breasts, covered only by a thin satin robe. Looking you in the eye and drawing a long kiss from your lips, Loki waved his fingers, conjuring a set of cuffs and a black leather flogger into his hands. 
“I’d say that would be the most appropriate word for our situation at that, my special girl,” he said, swinging the handcuffs around his index finger, tauntingly. “Now, let’s get you into these, shall we?” 
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Word prompts: radio, window, hard
For @fictive-sl0th Secret Santa game! I hope you have a happy holiday, and that this was a worthy present, @peachyjinx!
@muddyorbsblr @lokisgoodgirl @sarahscribbles @mischief2sarawr @mochie85 @lokischambermaid
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crabsgate · 3 months
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Astarion/Gale (Baldur's Gate) Characters: Gale (Baldur's Gate), Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Tara (Baldur's Gate) Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Winter Summary:
“Welcome back, Astarion,” the insufferable mage says, when Astarion is but a breath away from touching him.
“Here I thought I got the drop on you,” Astarion tuts as he winds his arms around Gale’s plush waist and tucks his chin over Gale’s shoulder.
((Title stolen from the song by the same name by the velvet underground))
My Bloodweave Tower Secret santa fic!!
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mellarkandart · 5 months
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Anybody interested in Severitus secret Santa? 👀 I think about this every year and it’s probably too late to organize a big event but if a few people are interested maybe we can work something out 💜
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mumucow · 3 months
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I know I have been AMA
I know I have been missing for a while and I'm sorry for that but as an apologize I come back with two new fics (Sterek and Buddie) that I wrote the past two weeks. I promise to try and be more alive.
A Christmas Wolf Miracle
Ship: Sterek
Word Count: 10k
Chapters: 1/1
Summary:
Stiles was in his apartment in Washington, looking over a new case, when there was a knock on his door. He hadn’t been expecting anyone, he certainly hadn’t been expecting a nervous teenager with familiar hazel eyes.
“Can I help you?” Stiles could feel his magic pulse in his veins, it usually happened when he was around other supernatural creatures, which left him a bit confused about who this boy was.
“Are you Stiles? Stilinski?” The teen asked, clearly still nervous and with anxiety. Stiles knew the signs far too well.
“Yes, and you are?” He had never met this kid before, but he seemed to know Stiles.
“Eli. I need your help.” Stiles' confusion must have been clear because the boy, Eli, kept talking. “You knew my father. Derek Hale. I need your help getting him back.”
“What?!” It was all that Stiles could say. He didn’t know Derek had a kid. “Wait, where did he go?” He might not have seen Derek in years, but he knew that the man would never leave his family behind, especially his kid.
+++ Stiles saves Christmas.
AO3 Link
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The best gift you can ever give me is a home
Ship: Buddie
Word Count: 3k
Chapters: 1/1
Summary:
“We have the Christmas Gala soon…” Eddie started, this time he was avoiding looking at Buck. The Fire Department had organized a few Galas for the stations on different days so that everybody could attend, mixing and matching a few so that they could meet other teams and just have a good night.
“Yeah, I know, we agreed to do the Secret Santa exchange that night. I got the perfect kitchen knife set for Bobby, are you really not telling me who you got?” Buck might not have been a big fan of Christmas before, but the 118 had changed things for him, and he loved to get gifts for the people he loved, make them happy.
“I’m not telling you. And I had been thinking…I know we told the team we weren’t taking anyone with us, but…” That made Buck’s heart shrink for a second, forgetting for a heartbeat that he was the one dating Eddie, but the thought of seeing Eddie take someone else to the Gala was devastating. “Hey…” Eddie reached for Buck’s face, his hand warm against Buck’s cold cheek.
AO3 Link
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thatesqcrush · 1 year
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Second Chances
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Joe Velasco x f! reader. A very belated Secret Santa gift for @plaidbooks. CW: implied smut. Mostly fluff. WC: 2,839.
AN: Thanks @beccabarba for giving it a read through.
AN2: Not sure who to tag for Joe folks. Umm @storiesofsvu @madpanda75 @dreamlover31 @witches-unruly-heart @detective-giggles... anyone else who wants to be tagged for Joe, send me a msg!
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The biting, cold wind whipped harshly around Joe Velasco as he waited for the light to change, causing him to shiver. Despite having lived in New York his whole life, he much preferred a warmer climate. Summer was his favorite. He'd dressed in black, with his dark hair, and dark eyes and fashionable stubble, he looked every bit the New Yorker he was. Joe huddled in his peacoat, as if shrinking into himself would garner some warmth.
Just when Joe thought it wouldn't get any worse, delicate snowflakes began to fall from the vast white and gray sky. Plumes of smoke rose steadily from the grates before settling over the icy sidewalks. Joe grumbled and wrapped his scarf tighter around his face. The briefcase Joe had with him suddenly felt heavier than before.
The light changed from green to red and Joe hurried across the street. A dimly lit sign that belonged to a local greasy spoon caught his eye. Instead of heading straight to his destination, Joe decided to make a pit stop to grab a cup of coffee. He hated coffee but he was too cold to care.
As he entered the diner, he noted that it was barely at full capacity, leaving him with many options to sit. Joe took the chance to grab a booth in the back. As he settled in, he signaled a waitress to take his order.
The waitress barely had a chance to greet him before Joe barked out what he wanted. She hurried off, leaving Joe alone once more and with his thoughts. Moments later, a piping cup of black coffee sat in front of him.
As he stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee, Joe focused on the patrons who were occupying the diner at the moment before being distracted by the jingle of the bell over the diner entrance.
Another gust of wind entered the diner soon followed by the most strikingly beautiful woman Joe had ever laid eyes on. His spoon clattered loudly as it fell from the cup and onto the table. Your skin was slightly tinged pink due to the cold. You had a thick scarf on and a blue knit hat with a giant pom pom on it. An easy smile spread on your face as you shook the snow off.
"My Lord, it's cold out there!"
You had an accent but Joe couldn’t figure out from where. However, Joe found that he could look past the accent. 'It's not like the New York accent is any better.' he thought as he watched you continue to shake the snow off.
"You take a seat anywhere sugar; I'll be with you in a minute," the waitress called out.
"Coffee, cream and sugar, please. I'll be in the back," you had replied in turn to the waitress. The waitress nodded and you made your way to the back, with a large suitcase and bag in tow.
As you walked towards the back you made eye contact with Joe. His dark eyes probed yours and you smiled politely as you walked passed. A cup of coffee was quickly placed on your table and you thanked the waitress. You grabbed the sugar shaker and poured it heavily into your cup.
"That stuff will rot out your stomach," Joe retorted loudly, swearing to himself as he did so.
You turned to him, eyebrow perfectly arched, and pointed at his cup. "Isn't that hypocritical of you to say?" 
Joe let out a low chuckle and he extended his hand. "Joe Velasco.”
Your eyes narrowed and you didn't take his hand. You looked up and down at him, before letting out the breath you had been holding. You introduced yourself and gave him a small smile. This Joe person was nice on the eyes. But being a detective yourself, you wanted to suss this person out. 
"What brings you to New York? Business or pleasure?" Joe questioned as he took a sip of his coffee.
"Are all New Yorkers so nosey? Or are you just special?" you retorted.
Joe shifted in his seat uncomfortably and cleared his throat. "My apologies. I won't bother you again."
An awkward tension followed before anything more was said. There was a sound of a chair moving and Joe looked up to see you sitting across from him.
"I'm sorry. I'm just not from here." You replied apologetically, your tone much softer. "I'm here on business. I'm participating in a conference at Madison Square Garden."
Joe furrowed his thick brows. "Not the National Sexual Assault Conference?"
"That's the one!" You exclaimed. "Wait..." There was a pregnant pause. "How did you know?"
Joe reached into his pocket and revealed his badge. "I work for the NYPD. I'm a detective in the special victims unit."
You let out a smile and what seemed to Joe as a sigh of relief. "Same, but for [your city/town]."
"So I guess in a weird way you're close but far from home?"
"You could say that," you agreed, taking another sip of coffee. "It's my first time here in New York City."
Joe laughed a little more, letting his smile grow as he looked at you again, marveling at your beauty. He was literally transfixed on you. You cleared your throat, bringing him back to the surface and he centered his gaze back on his cup. The steaming liquid provided him with a distraction as he tried to get the conversation back on track.
"So, how are you liking New York so far?" he asked, as he stirred his coffee more.
"I like it, except for the weather. In [your city], it rarely gets below sixty, even in the winter, so this is something of a drastic change for me."
"I know what you mean," Joe responded as he sipped the coffee more. He found himself easing into a relaxed state, one he hadn't felt in a long time. It was as if he was catching up with an old friend. "I am more partial to summer. Give me all the high temps.”
Joe felt his stomach flutter, something which hadn’t happened in a long time. He wanted to see you again - and not just at the conference. "Well, how about this New Yorker take you to see all the sights, that is after the conference, of course."
"Are you asking me out on a date, detective?"
Joe found himself at a loss for words and he wracked his brain trying to find something clever to reply with.
"Tell you what," you said, pulling out a pen and writing on a napkin. "Give me a call when you are finished, and let's see what we can get into. Deal?"
Joe eyed the napkin and smiled, actually smiled fully at you, seeing your cheeks redden slightly. "Deal."
—-
Joe yawned as he approached the break room, a file in hand ready to give to Olivia. The conference - which occurred over a period of two days - was long and taxing.
If not for the memories of the night before coming back home, Joe would've said that the conference was a bust, but how wrong he was. One chance meeting with a stranger had changed everything for him.
He saw Olivia head his way, her dark eyes set in determination already. Joe could swear that the Captain probably woke up with that countenance. Chuckling to himself slightly, he prepared to hand off the file.
"Velasco," Olivia greeted, as she took the file, flipping through it, "How was the conference?"
"It was what it was. Good learning experience," Joe responded as he yawned again. "Other than that, it was a pretty run of the mill weekend."
Olivia smiled as she closed the file and glanced at her watch, "I need a favor. We have a new member of the team coming in today at JFK. Think you can swing by and pick them up? Muncy was supposed to but she called out sick.”
"I have a backlog of paperwork that I was hoping to catch up on…" Joe trailed off.
"It won't take long. The flight should be landing within the hour."
Joe let an irritated sigh escape as he looked at his own watch, trying to calculate his schedule. As it was, he was already behind on several things, but he knew he couldn't just leave Olivia hanging.
"Okay.” Joe reluctantly agreed.
"Good man," Olivia responded as she turned to walk away. "Make sure you bring her to see me when you get back."
Joe put a hand up to give a half hearted wave to Olivi as she disappeared through the corridor. His day just got worse, ten times worse. Another newbie. 'Great; just great.'
You sat on your oversized suitcase, looking in each direction for the SUV that you were told would be picking you up. Glancing at your watch, you sighed as you started to look at your nailbeds, wondering how long you would have to stand there before actually doing something about it. Just as you were about to get up and walk, you saw the hulking vehicle as it appeared in the line.
As the vehicle came closer, you stood up, dusting the back of your pants and reaching to grab your belongings. Perching your sunglasses on your head, you squinted at the driver, in an attempt to get a closer look of who they were, but found that you couldn't.
Joe’s jaw dropped and felt his heart race as he parked. 'It can't be; what are you doing here?'
But it was you. Memories of the night after the conference flashes through his mind once more – heated kisses, his hands on your hips, your hands running through his hair, your skin dewy from sweat… the moan of his name emanating from your lips.
Joe blinked rapidly, shaking himself out of his thoughts. He swallowed hard as he got out of the vehicle and approached you. "Hi."
Your eyes widened slightly at the sight of Joe and you could feel the color draining from your face. It had never occurred to her that New York detective that you had spent a passionate night with just days before would be the same man you would be working with. How could a city with over one million people seem so small?
"Joe!" You replied, attempting a brave smile as a sinking feeling began to settle over you. If this moment was indicative of your future in Manhattan, you were going to board the next plane out to home. "I…um... it's good to see you again. I had no idea that you and I-"
"It's alright," Joe interjected, his eyes darting past you and to your paisley print luggage. Joe eyed it curiously. It was hideous. "I didn't know either."
You didn't reply; you were unsure of what to say. Despite standing outside in the vast, spacious airport parking lot, you felt overwhelmed, as if there had been a giant pink elephant in the middle of them and no one was saying anything. Joe found himself once again breaking the silence just as he did before in the diner. He tilted his head in the direction of the SUV.
"Shall we?" he questioned as he reached past you to grab your luggage.
You attempted to protest his help but Joe paid no heed to her words. "Alright," you finally conceded. "Let's go." You buckled your seatbelt and settled against the passenger seat. The ride back was silent. You stared out the window and to the passing buildings and snow covered trees.
Joe watched you out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to say something – anything but he couldn't formulate the words. He had thought he would never see you again but here you were now. Joe wasn't sure if he was capable of surviving the work week with you and showing you the ropes when he knew you so intimately. Never mind the barriers of office politics.
'Working with her is definitely going to be interesting.'
The only thing he was sure of was that he wanted the day to be done and over with.
The throbbing, aching pain in his head hadn't subsided despite taking half a bottle of ibuprofen. After dropping you off with Olivia, Joe threw himself into his work in hopes that it would take his mind off of you. It hadn't worked. Instead, he found himself even further distracted. It was his luck; he reasoned that this would happen. He didn't necessarily find the situation to be bad at all; in fact, he was disappointed that you both had to part after spending the day – and better part of the night together.
You were unlike any other woman he had met. You were way too cheerful for his usual taste; however, he found himself making an exception. You were strong, sweet and sassy – all the qualities that he looked for in a woman. He only had one night with you but he found himself hooked.
Joe cracked his knuckles and tried to focus on the paperwork before him.
Joe slammed the door to his locker shut, glad that the shift was finally over with. As he began to pull his coat on, the sound of footsteps caused him to pause in his actions.
"Hey Joe. I thought I'd find you here."
Joe felt his chest tighten at the sound of your voice. He turned around and found you leaning against another set of lockers. He presumed you were trying to appear casual.
"Y/N, how was your first day?"
"Good, I’m really excited to hit the ground running.”
"Glad to hear it," Joe replied. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he rocked on his heels. "Something tells me that you're not here to talk about how your day went though."
You shook her head. "No; you're right." You stood straight and approached Joe. "I wanted to talk about that night… about us."
"Look, if you want to pretend it never happened," Joe sighed, feeling his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach. "It's fine. I'm cool with it, but I can't just ig-"
"No! It's not that at all," you quickly rushed. "It's just that it took me by surprise. In New York, I wasn't expecting to see you again, so, I was a little…"
"Uninhibited?" Joe asked, the memory prompting an arching of his eyebrow and a smirk.
You giggled slightly, the tension that was between the two of you earlier, now seeming to dissipate. Your stance relaxed even more as you continued to smile at him, feeling something deep inside tugging at the strings of her heart. Could it be that you had fallen for him, after one night of passion? You pulled a stray hair behind your ear as you dropped your line of sight then brought it up slowly, registering that he was staring at you. Your cheeks reddened as you changed position and crossed your arms in front of yoi.
"Yeah, you can say that. So, where does it lead us?"
"Apparently, awkward moments," Joe responded as he leaned up against the opposite lockers, his demeanor a lot less stiff. Again, he found himself feeling as if he were catching up with an old friend instead of negotiating through new territory with a stranger.
"It doesn't have to be," you replied as you took a step closer to Joe. Placing your palms on his chest, you looked up at him. Your heart thumped wildly against your ribcage as you waited for his response.
Joe reached up to take your hands into his, drawing you closer as he did so. He stared into your eyes, searching. He murmured your name before pressing his lips to yours.
You gave yourself into the kiss, moaning quietly as you did so. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck. Joe placed his hands on your lower back, in the space between the waistband of your pants and the bottom of your shirt. Your skin goosebumped beneath his touch and you pressed yourself closer to him. Joe let out a small grunt of satisfaction. You pulled away breathlessly moments later, licking your lips as she did so.
"Let's get out of here," Joe answered finally. "Get a beer or something…" 
Joe had never believed in fate before but he was starting to come around. He was starting to believe things happened for a reason. After all, had he not gone to the convention or decided to grab a cup of coffee, he wouldn't have had such an opportunity with you. Rules and work politics be damned; there was no way he was going to give up a second chance with you. Perhaps this was the best decision Olivia had ever made.
You hummed a bit before cocking your head to the door. You began to head out together, Joe’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you. He couldn't help but smile victoriously at your next sentence.
"Or something."
FIN.
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starfall-spirit · 4 months
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My most recent ao3 note:
"This is the spicy one before the trauma starts, y'all."
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khepiari · 3 months
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LawLu Secret Santa Fic: Hold My Hand And Love Me Fair
Written for Yesenia for @truffyfest Secret Santa.
Summary: DILF Luffy x Young Transman Law. Supernatural AU. NSFW. Loosely, part of When Sun Fell Into My Pocket! Universe.
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I was chosen against my wishes for the ritual, I was forced into this stupid white dress against my wishes, and I was forced to sacrifice my life for the kingdom against my consent.
So, I decided to spoil it for all!
I looked at all of them and spoke, loud enough for my voice to echo all around the valley, “You think, I would let you get away with tricking the gods? Do you think the gods can’t tell what my soul is? Most importantly, taking my life away for the so-called greater good of deciding on consent?” I put my polished sword on my neck. “Did you ask me?”
Nope.
They didn’t.
“Where did the sword come from?” The guards stationed all around the hill gasped. Basic magic bellends! “Were her hands not tied?” Again, basic magic practices you illiterates. They would've noticed if they had paid attention to me and followed my hand movements when they were forcing me into this silly dress.
“Don’t do this! Think of the people” One of my stepfather’s ministers with sticky hair and a stupid shaft screamed as he saw me shift the sword against my neck. I was adjusting the blade so that I could rest my jaw comfortably on it, but I guess it looked like I was ready to cut myself. “Suicide is a crime! The gods will not forgive you for this.” Gods don’t care. They were scared of me committing suicide and defiling the temple— but murder in the temple was fine!
“How did she carry a sword taller than her?” Someone from the crowd that had gathered to watch me die asked. “Wasn’t her mother a witch too?” Another dimwit whispered loudly enough. “Yeah, her mother is the reason we are in this mess.” My mother is the reason you all lived this long, for years she bargained with the gods for the prosperity of the lands, but you all got greedy; look what it did to you all—brought the wrath of the gods!
“Princess, you were chosen for the greater good! Please don’t doom all of us!”
“I am already dying, why should I care, what happens to your lot after my death? And I am not a princess! I am a prince! If you address me as a princess one more time, I will behead myself.”
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Prodigal Son (TV 2019) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell Characters: Malcolm Bright, Dani Powell Additional Tags: Fluff, Birthday Fluff, Angst, Fluff and Angst, it's Prodigal Son there's always gonna be a bit of angst lol, Dani Powell Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright Gets a Hug, Eventual Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell, this is very much a Brightwell piece but also a bit of a Dani Powell story too, hope you like it, been a long time since I've written a one-shot Summary:
Dani Powell stopped celebrating her birthday long ago. She never expected to find any reason to celebrate on her own or even with anyone ever again... but then again Malcolm Bright was always full of surprises. Who knew that milestone birthdays were such a big deal?
Hey @apple-grass-and-smiles, I’m your Secret Santa! Hope you like the fic!
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Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Thor (Movies), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Darcy Lewis/?, Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow Characters: Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Thor (Marvel), Brock Rumlow, Jack Rollins, Ian Boothby Additional Tags: Secret Santa, Holidays, past Ian/Darcy Series: Part 5 of Merry Christmas, Baby Summary:
Darcy's first weeks at SHIELD are going--mostly--okay: she and Jane survived the Christmas party, their Secret Santa gifts are really, really good, and Darcy's meeting her new coworkers and adjusting to life at a federal agency full of jack-booted thugs. But when Ian suddenly dumps her from overseas, Darcy's Secret Santa decides to act. He seems to know her likes and dislikes really well, but who is he?
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boss-the-goofball · 3 months
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Finally finished this Secret Santa fic Here's the last line as a teaser:
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As Transmission carried him away from the ruined city, he mentally apologized to the Hero who would never find her son.
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avengersome · 4 months
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My prompt for this story was ‘Grumpy Santa’.
Siegfried is having a real nightmare before Christmas.
@acgasfanchallenge @shaggyhorsetales
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Winter Wonderland is Overrated
For the 2022 @sanderssidesgiftxchange this is my present to @artist-hope  
I hope you enjoy <3
Snow gently fell onto the ground, covering the ground in a white blanket. Except for the parts that were brown with dirt as cars drove by on the slushy roads, and the yellow area by the lamp post where people walked their dogs. 
“I’m gonna freeze to death.” 
“Hallmark movies got my hopes up,” Remus signed, pouting as he walked alongside his boyfriend. Having grown up in Florida, he hadn’t experienced snow before. So when Logan asked if he wanted to join him and his family for the holidays in Colorado, Remus jumped at the chance. Quality time with his hunky nerd, meeting his maybe future in-laws, AND getting to finally experience snow? Yes, please!
He had some regrets now.
“You should never trust movies,” Logan signed back, his shoulders shaking in a way that told Remus that he was chuckling. Or maybe he was as cold as Remus was. 
A smirk stretched on Logan’s lips and Remus knew for a fact that he was definitely laughing at him that time. 
“You laugh as I perish? Have I been dating a serial killer? I knew you were too hot to be true.” 
He grinned as his boyfriend shook his head in exasperation. “How could-” 
Gravity changed course in a blink of an eye and Remus felt his stomach flip. A hand grabbed hold of his arm, but it only slowed the sudden descent and changed course slightly.  
Snow was not as soft as it looked.
Remus gasped at the impact of the cold against his neck as he blinked up at the gray sky. It took him a solid minute, or maybe it was merely ten seconds, before he noticed Logan patting him down and trying to get his attention. “-okay?” He blinked again, looking at the other’s hands. “Are you okay?” Another blink before he nodded. Logan’s shoulders sagged but a frown rested on his lips. Remus wanted to kiss it away.
“Fuck snow,” he finally signed. “What is it even good for?” Logan shook his head at him, his lips moving as he did so. Probably talking to himself. His nerdy wolverine was pretty good about using his hands when he was actually talking to Remus. 
“You’re the one that wanted to go for a walk.” Remus stuck his tongue out at the fact. A snowflake fell on it and it just tasted like cold water. Yuck. “Let’s go home.” Yeah, that sounded good. With a huff, he tried to sit up. His puffy jacket made it difficult, so Logan grabbed hold of his hands and helped hoist him up. The snow that clung to his head from the landing slid down into the back of his collar. He yelped and jumped from the shock.
Fuck, that’s freezing! Now he understood fully why it was such a dick move in movies to put snow down someone’s shirt. He shivered and shimmied, trying to somehow get the snow out. But all it did was melt away and make him wet in a totally not fun way. He wiggled his hands free from his boyfriend’s grasp, whose brows were furrowed in concern, so that he could complain. “Fuck snow.” The furrow was gone, a sign that Logan deemed he was well enough. “Next year, your family can just come visit us. Or no visitors and instead we just have some hot and heavy-”
Logan grabbed his hands again, face red as holly berries. His glare made Remus giggle. It also made his blood heat up, but it seemed that was a fact he’d have to keep to himself since his hands were occupied. Since he couldn’t sign, he decided to go about the next best course of action.
The cold air had made Logan’s lips chapped, the texture rougher than it usually was when they kissed. It was kind of fun, getting the new experience. Like having their first kiss all over again. When it came to an end, Logan’s face was even more red and he let go of his hold in order to speak. “Your mustache is cold.” Remus snickered at that.
“Help me warm it up,” he suggested, wiggling his brows as he grinned. Logan shook his head but obliged all the same with his pretty red cheeks. Remus didn’t know if his mustache was actually getting warmer or not, but other parts of him were. That was, until a gust of wind blew by. Breaking the kiss, Remus threw his hands up in irritation before moving them quickly.  “No. Time to go. Go go go go go.” He began to stomp his feet, ready to return to the safety of indoor heating, when Logan grabbed his arm and pointed in a different direction. Wrong way, whoops.
He was pretty sure Logan was laughing at him again, but Remus was too cold to care. He shivered and huffed, wrapping his arms around himself. His nose felt runny. It was terrible. 
A sudden downpour of snow landed on their heads from a branch that grew too heavy. 
A hand grabbed his arm and tugged it free from his wrap, making him pout as he turned his head to glare at his nerd. Logan however, simply slid his hand down so that his gloved fingers could lace with his. The action made his insides feel all gooey. His pout turned into a grin, goofy and wide. He pressed in closer to the other and hummed happily.
Alright, he could concede that walking hand in hand in the snow was romantic at the very least. 
He took it back. Fuck snow.
---------
Inside was better. So much better.
Why the hell would anyone want to go outside?
Remus wiggled in his dry pajamas and slipper socks, wrapping himself up in a soft, fuzzy blanket. He curled into Logan on the couch, seeking all the warmth he could. The vibrations of his boyfriend’s relatives moving and talking made for a lively beat. Though they didn’t compare to Logan’s lovely heartbeat. That was his favorite.
Well, second favorite. His favorite favorite was the vibrations of when Logan was co-
“You’re making that face,” was Logan’s answer.
A pinch on his arm halted that line of thought. Blinking, he turned to look at his boyfriend who was frowning at him. He grinned innocently but the other bought none of it, rolling his eyes behind those cute geeky glasses. They were a little steamed up still from coming in from the cold. Remus wanted to steam them up more.
Another pinch and he huffed. “What?” he signed.
“What face?” Logan grumbled something, the vibrations rumbling from his chest and into Remus’ side. 
“A face you shouldn’t make with everyone around.” Remus grinned maniacally. “Behave.”
“But you make me not want to.” He batted his eyes at the other, but Logan pushed at his face and he cackled. The air pressure changed and he blinked as Logan’s mother made her way over. Her lips moved, her vibrations softer from the distance. Logan’s hands moved after a moment of her speaking, translating for Remus what she was talking about.
“She wants to know how our walk was.” Ah a dilemma. Did Remus use total honesty, that Logan would or would not actually tell her he said, or be polite since this was his would-be mother-in-law? 
“It was an experience,” he decided and Logan translated. “It was my first time in snow.” 
“Did you have fun?” That was certainly a question. One that needed an answer. Future mom-in-law was not making it easy for him. 
“I’m frozen as fuck but your son is helping thaw me out.” She laughed at that, or whatever it was that Logan said instead if he didn’t actually translate, and patted his knee. 
“There’s cocoa in the kitchen if you want some.” He scrambled out of his blanket prison, feeling the laughter in the air as he did so, and hurried off towards the kitchen. 
A tap to his shoulder took his attention away from his drink, though it didn’t stop him from consuming it, and he turned his gaze back to Logan. “Better?” he asked and Remus nodded. He held the mug out for the other to try and grinned as he was met with a raised brow. Still, Logan obliged the silent offer, and took the mug from him. When Logan was done trying it, Remus began to laugh. 
A kettle on the stovetop awaited him, filled with boiled water that was ready to pour into a mug of powdery chocolate. The packets themselves were in their little box next to some clean mugs that had been brought down from the cupboards. He grabbed the one that had to have been Logan’s, it was space themed, and made himself a cup of the hot beverage. It helped warm his hands up nicely.
With a little skip in his step, he returned back to the couch and wiggled back into his place beside Logan while his boyfriend continued to chat with his mother. He blew into the cup to cool the drink down a little before taking a sip. A happy gurgle bubbled in the back of his throat and he took another sip. That’s the ticket, he thought, feeling himself get warmed up from the inside. Whoever invented cocoa was a genius. 
He would.
“We match!” he signed eagerly, before pointing at the other’s lips. The cocoa had given Logan a mustache of sorts and it was hilarious. Before his boyfriend could do anything about it, he leaned in and licked a portion of it off. The air moved with whatever sound Logan had made and Remus laughed again. He took off before his boyfriend could scold him for doing such a thing for all his family to see, sacrificing his precious cocoa to delay Logan from reacting quick enough.
It didn’t stop him nearly long enough and Logan was soon hot on his heels, better at maneuvering around his childhood home, and the relatives that filled it, than Remus was. Soon those surprisingly strong arms wrapped around his waist and lifted him up. He squealed at the action, kicking his legs and cackling as Logan dragged him off. The cackling died off when he realized they were heading for the door. He wouldn’t-
Remus gasped as the cold air hit him once more, now without the protective layers of his stupid puffy coat. “Sorry! Sorry!” he signed frantically, though he wasn’t sure if Logan could see. His feet dangled over the porch steps, where the threat of snow felt far too real. Then he was being moved to where the little swing rested on the far end. Logan released him right in front of it before turning him around and lightly pushing him to sit in it. The second his ass was on the cushion, Logan’s lips were on his. He sighed into it, relief filling him that his boyfriend was not about to be so cruel as to drop him into the snow.
He should have paid better attention though, because as they walked back to the door, Logan swiped some snow off the porch banister and pressed it against his neck. Remus shrieked while Logan dashed back inside.
When the kiss broke, Logan glared at him. “Behave.”
“No promises.” Remus grinned. Logan rolled his eyes and gestured for Remus to come back inside. He didn’t need to be told twice.
-----
“So how was your trip to the in-laws?” Remus huffed at his brother’s question, giving a shrug. “Come on! Tell me!” 
“Fuck snow,” he responded, a phrase he had gotten familiar with during his stay. “The movies lie.” 
“Oh don’t be such a baby.” He glared at Roman and flipped him off. “Real mature.” He lifted up his other hand to give the same gesture. “Wooooooow.” 
“Seriously though, snow is the worst. I don’t see what the excitement is about. The only good thing is getting to cuddle with Logan and I don't need snow for that.”
“So I take it you won’t go next year?” Remus frowned and gave another shrug. 
“Well,” he signed, “I gotta keep up a good impression with the in-laws. And they have the fancy cocoa.”
“Fancy cocoa? Marry this boy.”
“If I’m lucky, he’ll put a ring on it.” Remus hummed thoughtfully. “But seriously, fuck snow.”
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