#<- i have no idea how else to tag him....

[hurlingdown]

                     DRESS . . . TO IMPRESS ?

synopsis. in celebration of the most wonderful time of the year, the one piece men have prepared extra special gifts for you. zoro, law, luffy, ace.

tags. dom! reader, implied top! reader. christmas fluff, crossdressing, big muscly men in skimpy skirts, law in a nurse outfit, lingerie, heavy petting, dirty talk, kissing, horribly written crack (i inserted my humour into this), mentions of sex, fingering, cock-warming, rimming etc, don’t read this seriously, it gets progressively worse, spending the holiday season with them <3

a/n. this is my christmas gift to the one piece fandom. enjoy lol.

“merry christmas,” zoro grunted, and you felt a little dizzy from the overwhelming endorphin rush that went straight to your head and somewhere else. 

because this… this was something you would have never anticipated for a christmas gift. this was zoro you were talking about. the epitome of stoicism. had he been just… pretending all along? you would’ve expected something like an earring, maybe, to match his three. a love letter was simply out of the question… though a bouquet of poinsettias wouldn’t be over the top, if he had consulted nami in the first place. but this? this was just… breath-stealing. 

you watched as your lover rolled onto his stomach in his scanty outfit to show off the crystal pink plug that he had stuffed into his puffy rim, shooting you a coy glance over his shoulder. “well?” he hummed. “do you like it, babe?” 

“yeah,” you breathed out. “i love it. you look gorgeous. i think… i think i just fell in love with you all over again.”

he coughed, a blush rising to his cheeks, and yeah, this was something you were more familiar with—not the balmy heat shrouding your face, the dry crawl of your throat whenever you so simply looked at him, the hint of sweat building at your temples at the thought of doing nasty, sinful things to him. 

was he even real? were you dreaming? you better not be, because this was a meal you were going to spend your good time ravishing. 

“well, merry christmas to you, too,” you murmured lowly, climbing onto the bed after him, and he bit his lip with a shiver, raising his hips slightly to present you your christmas gift. you wasted no time in laying your hands on him, squeezing at the skin-tight fabric over his luscious thighs, giving his cushiony ass a small slap before smoothing over the warm ache. 

“gonna eat you out until you’re wet and sore, baby,” you told him, “and then i’m going to finger you while we binge watch shitty christmas movies together on the couch.” you licked your lips, pretending to think about what you were going to say next. “actually... might as well have you cockwarm me while we’re at it. and once we’re done with that, i’m gonna put it in your slutty hole and fuck you ‘til you start crying, okay?” 

“and after that too,” zoro mumbled, shifting onto his back and pulling you down for a soft, wet kiss that sent butterflies roaring in your stomach. 

TRAFALGAR LAW

“traf, sweetheart, have you seen my—oh.” 

“get. out.” 

“what are you wearing…?” 

“are you deaf? i said get out!” 

“hold on, okay? it’s not like i haven’t seen you naked before! just… is that a nurse uniform?”

but this was different from being naked. this was far more embarrassing. law looked at you with narrowed eyes, tone sharp with accusation that bordered on hurt. “what? you don’t like it?” he nervously bit his lip, pulling down his skirt and squeezing his legs together as though it would hide the very obviously aroused state of his crotch. 

“i do! how could i not? you haven’t even let me say anything yet!” you swallowed, feeling saliva seep into your mouth at the erotic sight before you. “you look so fucking hot, you have no idea. i love it, traf. i love it so much—” 

“okay, okay, i get it.” he huffed with feigned irritation, a small breath of relief escaping him as he shyly glanced at the floor, hands still clutching at the fabric of his dress. “m-merry christmas.” 

you took a few tentative steps forward until you stopped in front of him, and he frowned and turned away, heat rising to his cheeks. “don’t look at me like that. it wasn’t my idea, just so you know…” he swallowed when you put your hands on his bony hips and squeezed, subtly exploring the rest of his outfit with your eyes, and he sighed, relaxing a little. “hey, say something…” 

“sorry,” you chuckled, meeting his gaze again. “you’re just… beautiful. i love you. i love the fit. it looks so good on you… thank you for the christmas gift, love.” 

“and where’s mine?” he said, attempting to distract you from the deep flush on his cheeks. he slung his arms loosely around your neck, giving you an almost pouty look, to which your heart clenched at. “... don’t tell me you didn’t bring me one.” 

“oh, but i did.”

. . . you swore you tried so hard. but you could feel it creeping up on you, like a silhouette, surreptitiously tugging at the corners of your lips. fuck it. you just couldn’t hold back your smirk. you thought you were just absolutely brilliant, coming up with this idea of a gift. you knew he would love it. you just knew. 

“eyes on me, baby.”

maintaining sensual eye contact with him, you gently laced your fingers with his, pressing each of his knuckles to your lips in tender kisses. then, with a gentle smile, you guided his hand down, slowly, slowly, until it was fully pressed against the front of your trousers, right where the zipper was. you nudged your hips towards the cup of his palm, faking a moan.

“there’s your gift,” you murmured seductively, and watched giddily as his golden eyes widened in shock and arousal before a sharp, splitting pain on the side of your face knocked you out. 

“pervert!”

you laughed victoriously as you went down. like he wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black with that cute little outfit of his.

MONKEY D. LUFFY

“merry christmas!” you heard a deafening guffaw before something crash-tackled you from behind, and you fell onto the floor in a heap of rubbery limbs. 

“luffy!” you choked out a laugh as your lover wrapped himself around your ribs, still unwilling to let go. “baby, i can’t breathe.” 

“oh. sorry!” he retracted his arms and legs, getting off you with a spring. you sat up, and that’s when you saw what he was wearing. a cute christmas skirt and matching leggings, and he looked so ridiculously adorable you had to do a double take. he frowned at your flabbergasted expression, leaning in to inspect your face. “huh? did i break you? i promise, i didn’t mean to hit you that hard! wait, why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” 

he pat your head, as though that would fix things. you squinted at his carefree smile. hold on. what the absolute shit. was that lipstick? 

“luff,” you took a deep breath, trying to steady your heartbeat. “who dressed you up?” 

“nami, duh,” he sung, giving you a little twirl to show off the fit. you already knew the answer—you just had to double confirm. crap. just how much money did you owe her now? a thousand berri? two thousand? to be fair, for this quality of work, you’d pay her a fortune. “nami said you’d like it. well? d’you?” 

“yeah,” you murmured, half in awe, half in devastation, because this was a really bad time to get horny if luffy wasn’t in the mood. “you look really pretty, baby. i love it a lot.” you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will away the horny. but it was just so hard to stop being horny all of a sudden. every time you closed your eyes, all you could envision was the horny: him in that skimpy christmas skirt, a bright flush on his cheeks, sprawled out on the bed underneath you… 

the soft press of lips against your cheek made your eyes shoot open. “huh?” 

the red colour on his lips was now slightly smudged, and you raised your hand to gently touch your now stained cheek in realisation. “oh…” 

“you looked consti- constipated sittin’ there!” luffy explained, in a much louder voice than usual, a thick blush covering his face. “i had to, y’knoow, help you out… in case you were having a hard time…” 

and well, there goes your horny.

PORTGAS D. ACE

“darling! you’re home!” you watched as your lover clumsily hobbled out of the bathroom, swathed in the most colourful gift-wrapping paper you had ever seen from chest to heel. “merry christmas!” 

you blinked. were you seeing things? “ace, honey,” you started, slowly, with a laugh. “know that i’d love it either way, but… are you supposed to be my gift?” 

“well, yeah, sort of.” he grinned, trying to make his way over to you in awkward steps. he winked, keeping himself just out of arm’s reach when you tried to pull him into a kiss. “just watch. you might even be surprised.” 

he raised a finger mischievously, and you watched as the tip of it caught on fire. he continued smiling his infamous ‘up-to-no-good’ grin, carefully bringing the small flame near his clothed chest. you raised your eyebrows, unsure, because as much as he was immune to fire, the gift-wrapping probably wasn’t... and the furniture in your house definitely wasn’t. 

“watch…” ace stressed with a hush, dramatically pressing his blazing finger onto the wrapping paper, to which it burnt a hole right through, orange flames immediately clinging on to the circular edges, rapidly widening the puncture. soon, his entire so-called ‘outfit’ was on fire, and you were starting to get alarmed when an eye-catching dark red slowly emerged from the burgeoning flames, strapped right across his chest. 

you choked. was that… a bra? 

“ta-da!” he shouted, opening his arms in full display with what could only be described as pure mirth. “fireproof lingerie!” 

what the fuck. you stood there, gaping, unwilling to believe. the rest of the flames gradually died down, revealing a gorgeous pair of red lace lingerie that hugged his crotch and chest in all the perfect areas, showing off his muscled figure, broad in the shoulders but tight in the waist, with thick hips and strong thighs. you could feel yourself salivating post-shock. 

“baby, you look really, really sexy, but…” you began, swallowing down your laughter. “forget it. why am i even surprised at this point?” ace grinned, albeit a little more sheepish than usual, rubbing at the back of his neck as you checked him out unabashedly. “ah, damn it. you look like a whole feast. i’m going to have a hard time keeping my hands off you tonight…” 

“ain’t that the purpose,” ace purred, shooting you a naughty glance through his lashes. “come and get me, hot stuff. and hey, guess what? we won’t have to worry about me accidentally burning my clothes off this time.” 

and needless to say, the both of you had a very merry christmas that night, indeed.

masterlist!

MERRY CHRISTMAS! SORRY IF YOUR BONER DIED 💓🫶

[thetadispatcher]

Peter nodded, he didn't know more then the general reason of replacing real animals with android ones, but he wasn't about to dig any further into it as it didn't seem to be worth the time and effort.

BeeBee purred happily, attention was always something she was excited to receive from people, even visitors she wasn't familiar with. As long as G cleared them, then she knew it was safe to ask for attention.

"It wasn't something I ever considered to be possible, so no." Peter shook his head, but now he was starting to make a mental list of things that he might possibly experience during the course of working with people from another dimension. He'd discuss it with Dan later just in case he had a few things to add to it, so that way he'd be a little more prepared.

"Didn't plan on mentioning it, seems like a good way to make people think you've lost your mind. And that's not something I need any help with." Peter laughed, he felt the occasional odd things he did were bad enough, and he definitely didn't need his coworkers questioning his mental state more then they already did.

Brent returned with more parts and the new arm for the Bishop android, he placed the arm on a cart nearby so the android could attach it on his own. He knew his help wasn't needed as reattaching a full limb was something most androids could do on their own, the process was much simpler then repairing the damage. He made his way back to the assembly machine to start piecing the next android together, as he noted Peter was currently occupied with something else.

Vincent paused his work to look up at the other android, his LED spun red and yellow as he considered the request. He didn't like the idea of talking to someone he wasn't familiar with, but having the topic be about something he enjoyed made it a little less stressful for him. He was still a moment as he considered it then slowly nodded, convincing himself that there were enough people he did know present to keep him safe. "I-uh, sure." He whispered quietly as he quickly returned to missed with his ear to keep his mind partially distracted.

"You can really tell that Sixty was one of the first androids Peter worked on, it's a miracle he got him up and running at all since he'd taken a bullet to his brain. Peter has fixed his brain some more since then, so he's gone from acting like a sugar fueled toddler to a rowdy teenager." Dan explained as he watched the two coordinate with each other to install the computer.

"His goal at the time was to give Connor friend to talk to that were like him. Sixty could be returned to a fully operational state, but after hearing Connor speak of his interaction with Sixty and how he wound up with a bullet in his forehead, we all agreed we'd rather have a goofy Sixty then one that was a constant asshole." Peter had informed Dan of what Connor told him, and he'd been there when Peter ran a simulation of Sixty if his brain was fully repaired. The simulated Sixty had instantly started talking down to them and acting like he was far better. Even Sixty had expressed his feeling on the matter, making sure they understood he was fine the way he was and didn't wish to go back to the way he'd been before.

"He can do basic police work now which is good enough for him." Sixty occasionally did work at the level of Connor and Nines, but he liked tagging along for random calls, as he found solving nothing but murders and other such things to be too repetitive.

Dan rolled his eyes as the two knocked heads again well attempting to reach for the same cable. "Nines needed some work too, as you've likely noticed he and Sixty have completely different voices. Nines needed a new voice modulator as his was severely corrupted, and the best Peter could find that was compatible without running the risk of trying to order a new one, was one from an android model used for narrating. So that's why his voice is far deeper then Sixty's." Dan still couldn't understand how a brand new model had suffered any type of malfunction with their parts, but he felt it was likely something Cyberlife had done to him once they realized his model would never be released.

Dan and Daniel's head both snapped to the human when he sneezed, their LEDs both turning red as they watched him until they certain he'd only caused himself some slight pain. "That kid, I swear... He does the most brain dead shit sometimes..." Dan mumbled as he shook his head then glanced at Rook, feeling he'd likely have to explain their reaction and his own words.

"He mouthed off to a former friend who was pointing a gun at him, which earned him four bullet holes. He really shouldn't be up and about yet, but the only thing that would keep him in bed is tying hm to it." Dan explained as his LED returned to blue once he was certain Peter hadn't popped any of his stitches.

"I never liked his human friends anyways... They were either far too strange, or showed clear signs of serious undiagnosed mental issues. Johan thought Peter was trying to be better then him when he heard about what he'd done to me, and of course he didn't believe a word Peter said... Which lead to Peter deciding to call him out on his behavior in a very insulting way.... Terry had a thing for eating non-food items... I once watched him eat an unwrapped candy then say the tin foil hurts his teeth."

"And Catherine, ugh... He met her when we visited here, she was a new Cyberlife hire at the time and gave Peter a spare repair manual for my model. Of course he kept in contact with her, and when they deviant situation first started she asked if he'd come see her to help her move. He'd pay to fly to her and she'd pay to send him back... He arrived only to find she was gone and a note explaining she'd gone home and was sorry he wasted his time. She didn't give him the ticket back, and he couldn't afford it, so that lead to him taking a job at the police station" Dan shook his head, he was glad Peter was no longer in contact with those humans.

"He was only supposed to be gone a few weeks... I really did fear the worse as I hadn't heard any updates on him, and the more time that went by the worse it got for me. I know it's a bit of a silly thing to deviate over, but I truly thought he'd died and that I'd lost a very important human in my life. Catherine better stay far away from here, or I will be having a very serious talk with her." He growled quietly, he truly hated the humans who Peter had befriended as most turned out to be the worst types of humans possible.

"So it was to prevent animal cruelty. That's surprisingly enlightened for a corpo."

Or she supposed the marketing team was at least somewhat competent. There was no better way to sell fake animals but pretending that the industrial process behind their production was any good for the environment.

They better have made dinosaurs too.

In any case, Rook was delighted to be able to pet a polar bear. BeeBee was wonderful and deserved all the pats.

Bishop saw the general reaction to the frankly odd choice for a delivery system and decided to provide pointless commentary. "Why, have you never looked into the abyss before?"

He did. Right after said abyss was done raiding their supply convoy. But he wasn't going to mention that particular encounter, or what he did about it. He would have liked to be returned to his base at the end of this visit.

"I apologize for the scare. I would appreciate if you didn't mention this either." Willow said, standing up. If anything, she could offer her help setting up the new computers faster.

She briefly looked in Vincent's direction, only for the android Bishop to move to stand in her way. If he meant to look menacing, Willow was having a hard time appreciating that when he was still missing an arm.

"I wished to inquire your friend about the stuffed animals he makes. I would like to purchase a few."

The android knelt down, quietly inquiring Vincent about it.

"You'd think they were made from the same mold." Rook replied, watching Peter and Sixty's shenanigans.

[sugarnspice630]

Baby It's Cold Outside

"Perhaps you can stay a little longer? Share one more drink with me?"

•pairing: yunho x fem!reader

•word count: 1k

•tags: MDNI, suggestive, jealous and possessive Yunho, reader is kinda stupid (sorry), alcohol consumption, drink spiking (DO NOT DO THIS????), ...did I miss anything? probably

Summary: Quite literally based off the controversy with the song "Baby It's Cold Outside", after spending a little too long with your date, Yunho, you try your best to go home. He seemingly does not want you to leave however.

A/N: I have a confession...one of my taboo kinks is to be drugged and taken advantage of, but you didn't hear that from me! For real though, please be careful with your drinks being spiked. Protect yourself and others while under the influence. Remember this is only fiction and to not be taken seriously or to give anyone any ideas. Please be sure to drop a like, reblog if you enjoyed it, and comment your favorite part! Happy reading!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆───

Your phone dinged with a notification. A message from your roommate, asking where you were. You previously told them you were going to meet up with this guy you matched with on Tinder. You had been chatting back and forth for a while, so you had some trust with him. It wasn’t a one-night stand or anything, just the first time meeting up. You glanced at the time on your phone after reading your roomie’s message and realized you had stayed way longer than you expected.

“Yunho, I’ve really enjoyed our time, but I do have to get going.”

“Mmm, can’t you just stay a little longer? The temperature is not the warmest right now.”

“Yeah, well, ‘tis the season for that. Plus, my roommate just messaged asking where I was.”

“You have someone else expecting you?” His voice was laced with a hint of jealousy. You scoffed at his comment softly.

“Relax, it’s just a roommate Yunho, plus, ‘they'” - you say with air quotes - "are a lady, so you can rest easy.” You use your hands and push yourself up off the couch you both are sitting on.

“I see. Well, I don’t want you to freeze out there.” Yunho stands up after you do and starts to get closer to you. His tall stature throws you off for the 100th time. You gaze up at him with your mouth parted slightly.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay. I dressed prepared for the weather.”

“I know, but doesn’t this warm fire feel so much nicer?” His hands trail up from your hips to your waist and rest there. The action sends a small chill up your spine.

“I-it does.” The remaining confidence you had slowly leaving you, softly submitting to staying with Yunho for the night. You stare at each other for a moment before you blink and shake your head and back away from him. “No, I need to leave.” You peek your head past his shoulder to look out the window near the front door. The snow is coming down quickly and heavily. Yunho follows your gaze and returns his attention back to you, a soft smirk on his face.

“I wouldn’t go out there if I were you. Perhaps you can stay a little longer? Share one more drink with me until the snow trucks go by?” His hands leave your hips and tenderly hold your hands. His sentences came across as questions, but you knew you really wouldn’t have much of a choice.

“Fine. I suppose one more won’t hurt.” You glance off to the side, disappointed with yourself that you could not stand your ground, but knowing he also had a point. If you left now, who knows what could happen to you out there with the snow coming down the way it is?

“Good~. I’ll go get the drinks. Just sit back down for me.” His eyes are full of tenderness and care. His hand invites you to sit back on the couch. There was no denying his charm and how your heart fluttered with him wanting you to stay longer. You sat back down, looking up at him, and he gave you an approving nod before heading to the kitchen to prepare the drinks. You pulled your phone back out and shot a message to your roomie. 

“You’re smiling a lot over there.” Yunho’s voice ringing through your ears, causing you to jump suddenly. He hands over the small glass he just poured for you.

“Oh, heh, yeah. My roommate is just being...perverted." You chuckle softly as you grab the drink from his hand, a slight blush coming across your face. He responds with a soft “hmm” and sits back down next to you.

The situation feels familiar. Being in this same position not that long ago. Drinks in your hands, chatting about frivolous things, sitting in the exact same spots. Like nothing has changed, besides the fact you are staying a few minutes longer than you intended. The night drags on; the snow keeps coming down. The sudden broadcast on the news advising people to stay inside and not go out due to dangerous conditions. Once that message finishes, the smirk on Yunho’s face grows even larger. You furrow your eyebrows towards him, thinking the alcohol was starting to take effect and making you see things.

“Yunho, it's been a pleasure, but I seriously need to go.” You set the cup down on the table in front of you and stand up. Feeling like all of the blood suddenly left your head, you start to fall forward. Yunho, quick on the draw, stands up and catches you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy darling. Didn’t you hear the weather experts? It’s dangerous to go out there.” 

“I promised my roommate I’d be back.” Your words start to come out slurred, unintentionally. 

“Y/N I can’t allow you to go out there. Especially in this condition.” A concerned tone in his voice as he looks you over, holding you up and in place any time you try to move.

“Yunho…” Your sentence falls off as you look at him. Everything in the room except for him is spinning, and suddenly your vision becomes blurred. Your body starts to feel light and tingly. Am I about to pass out? You think to yourself. From what little is left you can see, Yunho’s eyes shift from concerned to dark and sinister. 

“I can’t allow you to leave Y/N.”

“Yunho…what did you…?” Next thing you know, he has you spun around, and you feel him grab your wrists and tug them together. Yunho leans in towards your neck and whispers in your ear.

“Perhaps I put a little something in your drink to help you stay longer.”

“Wha…” None of this making any sense due to your body practically shutting down at this point.

“Shh, shh, shh.” Yunho places his spare hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, and not too long after that, he feels your body go limp against him. The drink has taken full effect now. Yunho quietly sings to himself, in his deeper register...

 “Baby, it’s cold outside~.”

Tags: @pre1ttyies@isiloiale@moongoddess1982@xuchiya@myloveforyunho @ywtfvs @meowmeeps @tinyelfperson @httpseungmxn @acupoftaewithsomesuga @tiredlittlevirgo @no1likevie @arki-sha @yeosangsbbg @10nantscompanion @skzooluvr

[eleu22]

Sweaty Palms - Chapter One “The Skeptic”

Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!reader

tags: brief description of injury

masterlist

——————

“What? I think we could do with’a bit of a feminine touch, ay LT?” Soap smirks, turning to nudge the lieutenant with his elbow.

Ghost doesn’t reply, but the unimpressed look he fixes Soap with says enough. The briefing room is quiet, besides the scot’s incessant chatter, a few quips from Gaz and the rhythmic hum of the projector. The cool winter air slips through the poorly insulated window, but to Ghost the room couldn’t feel warmer.

There is undeniably an air of… excitement? Maybe that’s not the right word, it’s anticipatory, like the bit before a roller coaster drops, or the moment before a bomb detonates. Either way, Ghost isn’t thrilled.

The masked man tunes out the sargeants as he stares at the door, as if he could telepathically explode the next person who dared to enter with his glare alone.

When Price broke the news to them, they could all practically feel the blood clot forming in the lieutenant’s forehead.

The first thought to the man’s mind was simply, why? We are doing just fine without anyone else’s help, I’ve stitched myself more times than I can bloody count.

Secondly, how? Ghost would trust Price’s judgement with his life, he has, literally, but this? How could he allow this? Price knows better than anyone: one wrong element could throw everything off. A stranger in their ranks is a liability waiting to happen. What if she’s an enemy undercover? What if worse she’s incompetent? What would they-

Ghost’s thoughts are abruptly interrupted by the click of the door handle. Any lingering conversation is brought to an abrupt stop as the team’s eyes snap to the front of the room.

In walks Price, followed closely behind by Honey. The sound of their boots echoed sharply in the quiet briefing room. Honey walked in with a steady confident stride- not cocky, but assured. Her millitary-issued white compression shirt clung to her frame, the camo pants snug around her hips, emphasising her- okay enough. Ghost’s jaw tightens as he forces his gaze upward. She was shorter than the rest of them, shorter than him by a good head, Ghost feels his boots shift in irritation, how is she going to keep up?

They both stand at the front of the room, their figures cast in the faint blue glow of the projector. Price didn’t waste time, his voice cuts through the silence like the crack of a whip, listing off information Ghost already knew.

The lieutenant had all but demanded to read her file, Price (albiet hesitantly seeing the man’s less than cheerful disposition) handed over her file. Ghost had read it more times than he’d care to admit, trying to pick apart every line and word for some sign of… well he’s not sure what, but something. He could recite the information like a parishioner knew the words of the liturgy.

Sargeant Honey, Jesus what kind of name is that?

Green Beret, American.

Combat Medic, Useless.

grew up in Lynchburg, Virginia, oh, really, American.

SERE training, Tactical Emergency Medical Support, cross training in close quarters combat and weapons proficiency…

Even Ghost had to admit, at some level she was impressive, especially for a woman. Regardless, none of this brought the man any comfort, if anything, this was going to make her harder to shake.

As Price continued to speak, a light tap on his thigh yet again interrupted his inner hate-monologuing. Ghost doesn’t move, but he can already imagine the expression on the scot’s face. Soap was really the only one who didn’t have any reservations about Honey coming along, in fact he seemed a little too pleased at the idea of her addition.

Fuckin’ hell, Ghost internally sighs, the man acts like women are some rare commodity. Ghost looks at Soap out of the corner of his eye, who, as expected, has a toothy grin sat on his face. Well no wonder, Ghost muses the mohawk must definitely not be doing him any favours in the dating scene. The man is a fucking dog, one look at him and you’d be able to see it. This makes him a good soldier and (though you couldn’t waterboard this information out of Ghost) a good friend. But this makes Honey’s inclusion all the more a liability.

Ghost turns his attention back onto Honey. Price has finally finished and turned to her. In contrast to her entrance she gives the team a sheepish smile, her arm rubs up and down the length of the other behind her back.

Honey’s soft lips part, as she turns her eyes to the rest of the room.

“It’s a pleasure to able to work with you all… I’ve heard great things.”

Her voice drips down the back of his throat, warm freshly stirred honey. There’s something slightly awkward about the way she speaks too, like that sharp little aftertaste left behind, but warm, it's undeniably warm.

Huh, I guess her callsign makes sense.

There is something so sickly sweet about the woman, something you don’t come across in the army.

Trying to imagine her in active duty, bullets cutting through her saccharine voice, blood dripping down her soft fingertips, as she shoves the innards of some poor fuck recruit back inside of them. It’s unnerving.

Ghost suddenly feels his balaclava all too tight around his neck, his sleeves rub up against his wrists as he shifts them uncomfortably. The man simply stares ahead, ignoring the flirty wave Soap returns to her. Under the table he begins to pick at his fingernails through his gloves, as if he needed something to stop him from shoving her up against the wall and demanding her to spill, to hear her voice break, to look directly into her eyes and to disembowel every tightlipped secret she’s ever held.

Ghost bristles at the thought, weirdly, he hopes he gets the opportunity.

——————

okokok this is the first chapter!!!!!! lmk what yall thinkkkkk

the next one is gonna be another expositiony one shes gonna be really ethel cain core so be excited xxxxxxx

taglist: @creepingeva @identity2212 @brokenghostgirl1 @honestlymassivetrash @ang3lc

[hannahbarberra162]

Will EP omega reader meet the whitebeard pirates? How would shanks react?

Hi Nonnie!

This was originally the trajectory before I decided to take it in a different direction. Not all the WBP since this story is set after the Paramount Wars and they’re disbanded but I was going to have the Reader meet Marco….

This is an alternate ending so not as proofread / edited. This is set after Reader has come to from the heat (you’ll get that scene in the next chapter - which, yes, I am writing). Shanks is a bad boy in this one, don't come for me.

I'm not gonna do the tag list for this (except @mfreedomstuff ) since it's not a chapter of the main story. I do have a few more ideas / scenes I thought of for this maybe I'll write them eventually.

All the actual chapters

~

Shanks POV

Your first heat had gone well by Shanks’s estimation. The physical demands were rough on you, you had been sleeping and eating in excess since it ended to make up for the days on end with little of either. He’d also had to recuperate after your heat but because you began heat in a worse state it was taking you longer to get to your baseline. He checked on you every hour or so as you slept, bringing you food and water as you needed it. You protested with a groan as he checked your temperature and breathing but allowed him to move you as he pleased like a limp rag doll. 

There was one thing that bothered him though - the bite mark from Kid still hadn’t healed. He’d given you his word during the heat that he wouldn’t claim you but he didn’t like seeing the bite from your former Alpha. He’d already spoken with Hongo about it already but the doctor said there wasn’t anything to do except wait.

Unless.

Shanks had known Marco the Phoenix since he was a child, the former Commander slipping in and out of his life like the tide. They weren’t friends exactly but Shanks had offered Marco the opportunity to join his crew many times. He’d slept with Marco a few times over the years and Shanks deeply enjoyed the experience - though they sometimes fought for dominance.

But there was something in Shanks that had always wanted to bring Marco to heel. Marco acted like he was above Shanks, like he was better than him. He always had too, enjoying being the golden child of Whitebeard for years after Shanks had to watch his own Captain publicly executed by Marines. Even after Whitebeard’s death Marco hadn’t joined Shanks’s crew which stung his ego. It didn't help that Marco’s Zoan form had an ethereal beauty like no other and it only elevated his charm and charisma. Marco was powerful, strong, handsome and well respected outside of his piracy for his skills as a physician. Unlike others, Marco wasn't fooled by Shanks's games and lackadaisical attitude and saw right through him. No, Marco needed to be shown his place in the world but the opportunity hadn’t arisen. 

Regardless, Marco could heal the bite on your neck in seconds if he visited the ship. Mulling over the idea, Shanks decided to call and see if Marco could fly out. The ship wasn’t that far from Sphinx, Marco could make the trip quickly if he so chose. Grabbing his snail off his desk, he dialed and waited.

“Oi, Marco. How are you?” Shanks asked the calm looking snail as the call was picked up.

“Shanks, to what do I owe the pleasure yoi? What do you want from me?” Marco responded dryly, already anticipating a request. The snail was looking over at something else as Marco continued to work through the call.

“Maybe I just want to see how you’re doing, call up an old friend,” Shanks teased before turning serious. “I am happy to hear you’re doing well, but you’re right, I need a favor. I have an Omega on my ship and she has a wound that’s not healing -”

“Is it not healing or not healing fast enough for you yoi?” the Phoenix interrupted, still not giving Shanks his full attention as he continued to read. Shanks’s irritation was rising but he buried it deep, he wanted Marco’s help.

“It was an infected claiming bite that didn’t take. She just went through heat and it was bothering her, she kept rubbing at it until it was raw. I had to Command her to stop before she left it alone. She’s still recovering - her previous Alpha beat the shit out of her, she was barely alive when I found her,” Shanks said with a frown on his face. Marco was a lot softer than people knew - he was sympathetic to weaker people suffering at the hands of those who were stronger. Shanks knew adding in the bits about your status would tip the scales in his favor. The snail sighed and looked at Shanks with its heavy lidded stare.

“How is she now?” Marco asked, the doctor in him rising to the surface. Shanks gloated internally as he knew he had Marco hook, line, and sinker.

“She’s sleeping a lot, eating when she wakes. It was her first heat - she’d been taking suppressants for years on end so it was particularly rough. I think she’d return to normal faster if she wasn’t also healing the bite,” Shanks mused aloud, knowingly ensnaring the former Commander further.

“Hm. And I suppose you want me to come heal her despite the fact that Hongo likely told you to wait it out yoi,” Marco said with a frown. Shanks smiled brightly, Marco correctly guessing the desired outcome.

“Well, if you’re offering…” Shanks said, letting the sentence dangle. He waited in silence, knowing Marco was going to accept.

“Where are you?” Marco asked in a huff, crossing his arms.

“Not too far from Sphynx, maybe a day’s flight away,” Shanks said jovially. 

“Fine. Head towards the island, I’ll get the coordinates from Benn. You owe me.” Marco said with finality before hanging up the snail. Shanks’s smile widened even further.

Your POV

You heard an unfamiliar male voice near the entrance of the cabin. New men weren’t something with a positive association for you but this voice was melodious, almost like a bird song, the person speaking with soothing calm. Listening in, you heard the Emperor speaking to the man like they were old friends. A knock on the cabin door alerted you that they were about to come in so grabbed the blankets and pulled them up to cover your nakedness. You hadn’t worn clothes since before your heat and all that you had were the Emperor’s.

“We’re coming in,” announced the Emperor brightly. As the door opened you saw a man as tall as Benn standing behind the Emperor. His teal eyes met yours and the world stopped for a moment. You’d never seen someone so beautiful in your life, his wanted posters not capturing his true essence. You knew it was Marco the Phoenix but you couldn’t bring yourself to say a single word. You nearly uncovered yourself to walk to him but stopped yourself at the last moment. He wasn’t speaking to you either, standing in shocked silence by the doorway with a stethoscope wound around his neck.

The Emperor looked between you and Marco and started talking but you weren’t listening. All you wanted to do was talk to Marco, to bare your soul to him, even though you’d never met before. He smelled like coconut, pineapple and a touch of spiced rum. You had the urge to lick his scent glands, to bask in the glorious smell of this Alpha. You’d never felt this way with any other Alpha - certainly not with Kid but also not with the Emperor. He walked towards you hesitantly, like you’d bolt if he moved too quickly. You watched his graceful movements as Marco approached, entranced by his very being. The Emperor suddenly put two fingers under your chin and tilted your face to his own. 

“Have you met Marco already?” he asked with a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. You noted his stiff shoulders and dominant body language. The Emperor was annoyed and in a dangerous mood, you thought to yourself. Marco forgotten for the moment, you nuzzled into his hand - an act that he’d praised you for before.

“N-no. I was just distracted,” you said quickly, afraid to admit you were staring at the handsome stranger. Your proactive touch mollified the Emperor somewhat as he dragged his thumb up and down your cheek.

“I apologize for startling you yoi. Like Shanks said, I’m Marco. I’m a doctor -”

“And a pirate,” Shanks added, giving Marco a smirk. Marco gave the Emperor a disdainful look.

“Yes, and a pirate yoi. I used to be Whitebeard’s First Division Commander, but that’s in the past. Now I’m just a doctor,” Marco said with a calm smile. 

“I’m not so sure, maybe we can finally convince you to join our ranks after all,” Shanks continued, giving Marco a strange look. Marco returned Shanks’s look with one of his own. You weren’t sure what was being communicated between the two men but you didn’t want to be in the middle of it. Cringing backwards, you covered yourself up further with the blankets. Marco’s gaze flicked to your face and his countenance softened. 

“It’s alright, I’m going to take a look at you yoi. I heard you have a wound that isn’t healing, is that right?” Marco said, pulling a pair of gloves from the pocket of his doctor’s coat. He sat down next to you on the bed, still towering over you with his tall frame.You nodded, moving your hair to the side so Marco could see the wound still left from Kid. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose and put on the gloves.

“I’m going to touch you now, just around the bite, OK?” he said to you softly. You nodded again and shifted towards him in the bed to allow him easier access to your neck. The Emperor moved and leaned against the opposing wall of the cabin, watching Marco’s every move with barely concealed interest. You weren’t sure what he was thinking but you hoped nothing bad came to Marco because of it.

Marco moved his fingers along the stitches Hongo had given you, pushing on the wound in a few spots. His assessment was clinical but it was the most caring anyone had touched you in a long time. He hummed to himself before placing the buds of the stethoscope in his ears. 

“I’m going to listen to your heart and lungs yoi. I’ll press the bell of the stethoscope against your skin a few times and listen, OK?” You nodded eagerly, waiting for the contact to continue. You knew what stethoscope usage entailed but it was thoughtful that Marco described what he was going to do anyway. You pulled the blankets down further than you needed to give Marco access to your chest and back.

“How’s she doing?” Shanks interrupted, sitting himself next to your other side on the bed and putting your hand in his own. Marco removed your hand and returned it to a resting position.

“Shh. I’m listening,” Marco said, dismissing the Emperor. You were sure Marco was hearing your heart beating fast from Marco rebuking the Emperor. You’d never heard anyone speak to him that way - even though his crew were relaxed and casual they always maintained an air of respect towards him. Marco on the other hand was irritated with the Emperor and didn't hesitate to make his feelings known.

Marco placed his fingertips on your back, his warm touch gentling you to the sensation of the cold stethoscope. As he listened, you saw his eyes rove over your well loved body from the heat. Your gaze dropped and your cheeks heated as you looked over all the hickeys and bite marks over your front from your heat with the Emperor.

“One more deep breath, there we go,” Marco said soothingly, rubbing a small circle on your back. You did as he said and he removed the stethoscope from his ears.

“I can heal the wound yoi. Like I already said, it was healing just fine on its own. You were too rough with her during her heat. Look at her, she’s covered in bruises and bites. If she’s already healing wounds you shouldn’t add more. Control yourself,” Marco continued, giving the Emperor a dirty look. You hugged your knees with your arms and ducked your head for the ensuing confrontation.

But none ever came. Instead you heard the Emperor’s laugh ring out in the cabin.

“Eh, it was more difficult than I thought. Would you care to find out?” 

Marco POV

There was no doubt in his mind the cowering little Omega was his fated mate. He wondered if you could feel the connection too but given your acute distress and prior experiences he doubted it. He felt a pull to you, he was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. It was like some missing piece of him had settled in his soul and he was finally complete, after looking for something he didn’t know was gone. You were absolutely breathtaking, even littered in the evidence of harsh treatment by other Alphas. His first instinct had been to whisk you away on the wings of the Phoenix far from Shanks, back to his home on Sphynx where he could claim you and keep you safe. Alas, things would not be so simple in the real world.

Your scent soured as Shanks extended Marco a crass invitation to have sex with you. Marco highly doubted that he’d shared you before - Shanks was covetous and jealous by nature. Even now while Marco was attending to you as a medical professional Shanks was inserting himself unnecessarily to gain your attention. Shanks hid his true colors under the guise of an easy going and amicable nature but Marco knew better. He was cold and calculating, always seeking what he didn’t have. Which is why he’d never joined Shanks’s crew despite the many offers or dallied with him more than a few times. Shanks never let something that he wanted slip through his fingers and Shanks wanted Marco.

Marco’s hackles rose but he pushed the feeling down. He needed to play nicely with Shanks and think his plans through before he acted. No matter what Shanks did or said, Marco wasn’t strong enough to take him on. He’d lived with an Emperor for long enough to know that Shanks was in a class of his own and even the Immortal Phoenix could be killed by his hands. Instead, Marco put his hand on your shoulder and stood up, inserting himself between you and the Emperor.

“I’ll heal her now then let’s chat outside for a few minutes yoi,” he said to Shanks with a neutral expression. He turned to you and gave you a warm smile, trying to convey his love and kindness in a single facial expression. He thought he saw the flicker of a smile on your sweet mouth.

“I’m going to use my Devil Fruit powers to heal you. It won’t hurt so you don’t need to worry,” Marco said, already trying to heal your growing anxiety. You nodded at him and your shoulders relaxed slightly, revealing the ugly bite on your neck. Something part of him was pleased you weren’t claimed by Shanks but Marco didn’t think it was due to benevolence on Shanks’s part. Marco knew you’d be claimed in the next heat whether you wanted it or not. His gift worked best on skin to skin but he didn’t want to make you too uncomfortable. 

“I’ll be on the deck. Don’t enjoy yourselves too much,” Shanks said with a wink. Marco wanted to throttle him right there - couldn’t he smell what his remarks did to you? How afraid and small they made you feel? But even so Marco was thankful for the reprieve from Shanks’s presence. The Captain swaggered away after patting your head like a beloved dog, slamming the door to the cabin behind him.

“Nothing is going to happen that I haven’t already told you. I’m going to heal you with my powers and that will be all. I do have to touch you and it works best if it’s nearest to the injury. May I heal your neck?” Marco explained in a calm and patient voice. Giving you expectations of what he would do might quell your anxiety. You nodded once more, still not speaking. Marco reached slowly for your neck, one of his hands large enough to wrap around nearly the whole thing. The other he placed on your upper back to steady your erratic breathing. In his heart he wanted to pull you in for a soul searing kiss but he’d have to deal with Shanks first.

“Easy, easy. I’m going to begin, alright? It might feel strange but it doesn’t hurt,” Marco said as his flames began to rise over your neck and upper chest. Your eyes opened wide and you tried to swivel your head as you were engulfed in his power but Marco kept you steady. “It’s alright, shh, it’s alright. Relax, just relax, nothing bad will happen yoi,” Marco cooed at you as you ceased looking around like a frightened rabbit. He didn’t want you to struggle against him, nothing in him could ever hurt you. You soon allowed him to heal you without worry, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.

Marco focused first on the bite but extended the flames to the rest of your body as well. He healed all the marks Shanks had left until there was no sign that you’d ever been intimate with the Emperor. Before removing his hand from your neck he felt something unusual.

“Do you have an old injury here yoi? To your larynx perhaps?” Marco asked quietly while palpating the area, not wanting to alarm you. You looked down and nodded again. 

“Would you like me to heal it? I’m not sure it will work completely but it may help,” Marco offered. He’d learned over the years that some people preferred their scars and marks to remain as momentos or as badges of honor. Though injuries like the one you had to your throat were rarely something worth remembering. 

“Yes, please,” you rasped. Marco tried to heal your broken vocal chords and damaged neck to the best of his ability, sending wave after wave of healing flames to the area. All too soon, the healing was complete and he had to go deal with Shanks.

“How do you feel now?” Marco asked, removing his hands completely from you. They itched to remain on your skin but he wanted to give you the space you needed.

“Much better, thank you,” you said, reaching to touch the now healed bite on your neck. He’d only heard your voice briefly when you were trying to soothe Shanks’s ego but it sounded smoother already. 

“Unfortunately it did scar a bit due to the age and severity of the injury but the scar should fade somewhat over time,” Marco said as your nimble fingers probed the area. You stretched your limbs and gave him a ghost of a smile, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Thank you Marco,” you said softly. Marco had so much he wanted to say and do but the Emperor was waiting for his audience.

“I’ll be with Shanks if you need me,” Marco said, rising from the bed. He felt your eyes watching him as he crossed the messy cabin and left, closing the door softly.

Shanks was sitting at the circular table on the deck, his ochoko filled with sake. His calves were resting on the table and his arm was behind his head in a relaxed pose as he watched the sea. To most, it would look like he didn’t have a care in the world. But Marco knew Shanks was toying with him, like a cat would a mouse before the death blow. Benn was reading the paper next to his Captain and gave Marco a pleasant nod when the two made eye contact. Marco returned it. 

“We have a lot to talk about,” Shanks said, still gazing at the sea. Benn took that as his cue to leave, folding his paper in half and tucking it under his arm. He gave Marco a clap on the shoulder as he passed.

“She had greater injuries than you told me yoi,” Marco complained as he sat down in the now unoccupied chair. 

“Yeah, she was pretty busted up when I found her. I took her from Kid - not sure if you knew him, I didn’t before then -” 

“She’s my fated mate,” Marco cut off Shanks, wanting to get to the heart of the matter. He was loath to play Shanks’s games but for now he’d have to endure. Shanks grinned a toothy smile and lifted his feet off the table, planting them on the deck. He crossed his legs at the ankles and sat up, picking up his ochoko.

“Hm, fate is a cruel mistress. Since the Celestial Dragons interfered with the mating process, fated mates have become an old wives tale, a bedtime story for children. They say when an Alpha finds their mate they would do anything to stay by their side and keep them safe. That a bonded Alpha and Omega share the same lifeline, their chests beating with the same heart. So how fitting that a myth should become real for someone so mythical,” Shanks said, swirling his sake in the small cup. The Emperor’s eyes danced with mirth as Marco watched him take a drink from the ochoko. Marco felt like a snare was tightening around his ankle, like a wild animal stuck in a trap it would never be able to get out of. 

“You’re not going to release her yoi. Are you going to claim her?” Marco asked, already knowing the answer to both questions.  

“No, she’s staying with me. As for claiming,” Shanks said before draining his cup, “I will during her next heat. But so can you.” Marco didn’t react outwardly, keeping his face still as his heart threatened to burst out of his chest. Shanks refilled his glass to the brim with sake.

“I did some research and it seems Omegas can be claimed by two Alphas. But I found out something even more interesting. Did you know Apex Alphas can claim other Alphas?” Shanks said, pouring sake into an empty ochoko. Picking it up, he extended it to Marco. The implication was clear - Marco would be able to claim you if Shanks claimed Marco. Marco would never be able to leave Shanks though he was unsure of other possible ramifications.

“We’ve had fun before, eh Marco? I think adding an Omega would be beneficial for both of us. You’d be able to stay with her, tend to her, care for her…along with my help, of course. What do you think?”

Marco knew he had only a few moments to consider the proposition or Shanks would revoke it and think of something worse. Marco tried to engineer a solution to his problem in the short time frame but Shanks had him backed into a corner. The Alpha in him couldn’t leave the Omega on the ship, he needed to be near her and protect her like he needed to breathe air. He wasn’t strong enough to challenge Shanks for her and win. He couldn’t leave her and he couldn’t take her. Marco’s eyes met Shanks’s triumphant gaze and broad smile.

Shanks had finally won.

Marco extended his hand and took the ochoko from Shanks. Every moment spent with Shanks further sealed his fate but it also brought him closer to you. 

“Welcome to the Red Haired Pirates,” Shanks said, draining his cup with a cold smile.

[librivore42]

Sunrise, sunset

@dekariosclan's incredibly creative Midwinter gifts from Gale sparked an idea with my Tav and Gale that... barely features the book in the relevant gift. The muse wants what it wants!

But I dedicate this to you, for all the wonderful Galemancer content and inspiration. May you have a lovely 2025!

Full text is here on Ao3, but also under the readmore.

Sunrise, sunset (1631 words) by Librivore42 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gale/Tav (Baldur's Gate) Characters: Gale Dekarios, Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Hopeless Romantic Gale (Baldur's Gate), I'm telling you, this man would move the world for you Summary: Moving back to Waterdeep is an absolute joy for Gale, and he's only too happy to settle back in. His barbarian wife is less comfortable with city life, but he has just the idea to cheer up her winter blues.

~~~~~~

Gale's home fit around him again as if it had been aching for him to come back, the most comforting embrace. The sound of Tara's overjoyed voice, not to mention is brand new lease on life, had made the entire space glow with a warmer light than he'd seen a year.

And so much more than her voice and his life, someone to share all those things with and more. As if sensing his thoughts, strong arms wrapped around his waist, a comforting warmth at his back as Celia leaned her chin on top of his head. Watching him sort through his desk, tutting and shifting papers from one pile to another that all looked the same to her, which he seemed to do regularly with no change or development, until she was tempted to ask if he was just making up work to look busy and important.

He could be as busy and important as he liked as long as she got to hold him. She was already losing interest in whatever he was doing, looking out the window at the sky and marvelling at the delicacy of the clouds as they hung, fragile, in the Waterdeep sky around a setting sun.

By and by he landed on a familiar book under the papers, letting out a soft chuckle of recognition that drew her attention back to him.

The Art of the Night. The gold of the very… evocative cover illustration glinted in the now setting sun.

"You made this whole illusion of your tower back then," she said. "Magical invitation to your place, and the first thing you did was pull out a book."

He tilted his head back to squint at her in mock-annoyance, lifting up the book to tap it with the back of his hand. "It was meant to be seductive and sweep you off your feet, you absolute barbarian."

She buried her laughter in his hair, his entire body shaking with her joy.

"Only you'd ask a woman to bed using a book."

"Hm." He smiled, leaning back into her embrace. "What's more embarrassing? The fact that I did, or the fact that it worked?"

She laughed even louder at that, the walls ringing with merriment and life that it had been hungry for. That he'd been hungry for, back when the orb's hunger overtook everything. "Fine, fine. Soft city boy."

He would have bristled at that once upon a time, too engrossed in his own offence to notice how her eyes shone with amusement at his reaction. Pulling himself up to his full height to argue that he was not soft by any means, and citing evidence of their past battles as she just grinned down at him.

In fact, he'd been too wrapped up in himself to notice a lot of things. Glances he missed, casual touches that he never pulled away from but never truly registered, filing it away as something she did with everyone. Which she did, if very differently, had he even given it a modicum of thought.

But he couldn't be blamed for misinterpreting a barbarian's subtlety, if such a thing even existed. He might have been more aware had it been anyone else, but she was so loud, brash and blunt that he thought he'd have seen her coming a mile away.

"It's definitely one of my favourite books." Celia tightened her arms around him and nuzzled the top of his head with a gentleness that did not come easily to her. She inhaled, filling herself with his smell, his warmth.

She wasn't fond of reading herself, and didn't appreciate the finer points of a good leather binding the way he did. But she did love stories, and he loved to feel the weight of her head on his lap as he read to her from his collection. Loved to listen to her as she told the oral tales from her childhood, tribal stories she still remembered by heart, no matter how long she'd been away.

He turned his face towards one of her encircling arms and kissed a soft trail up her freckles like he was mapping a new constellation. "I've been thinking of us taking a trip, before the snows set in."

"Mhm?" She almost purred in contentment, wrapping him up more securely.

"I thought, perhaps—" he pulled away and drummed his fingers on the cover, looking out of the window at the gorgeous sunset painting the stones of the city. By the Gods did he love his home, his comfort and all things familiar that he never thought he'd see again.

But he loved her as well, very dearly, and a lot of it was still alien to her, settling uncomfortably on her shoulders no matter how patiently she bore the weight.

It had certainly taken him a while to realise that loud, brash and blunt people could be very quiet about some things, and nobody would ever notice. After all, if they had something to say, they would, wouldn't they?

Then again, he more than anyone should have known how easy it was to keep a secret when you hid it behind some showy confidence.

She'd been right that first week. For such a smart wizard, he could be very stupid.

"I thought that perhaps," he went on slowly, "you might like to visit your tribe."

Silence filled the air, cautious and surprised, and he winced, carrying on.

"And I must admit I've been rather curious about those big tribal feasts you've told me about. The storytelling by firelight. And… and I'm aware it's been some time since you've been home."

More silence. He set the book down and held her arms warmly, tilting back to look at her again and forging on.

"Years in fact. But that's all over, isn't it? There's no reason we can't. And—" he faltered as she hid her face in his hair again so he couldn't see her at all. She never hid from anything.

"My love." Gale spoke very, very gently, handling her with such care that belied all expectations of her size and strength. Gentleness that she would never admit to needing. "I know you miss being out in the wilds. Tents and piles of furs and hunting. And I want to give you some of that again. But more than that I know that you… miss your people. Your family."

He let the silence settle this time, giving her room to breathe, to think.

The voice that responded was so very small, it made his heart clench. "I don't know if they miss me."

"Love…"

She tightened her arms around him so much it hurt, but he'd gladly take the pain without a word. "If they push me away, my heart is going to break."

Squeezing her hands, he took hold of them and stepped towards the couch, settling her so he could see her face, with nowhere to hide from him. He took her face in his hands, feeling another twist in his heart at her beautiful, bright, fierce green eyes clouded by desperately unshed tears.

"Oh love. I'm sorry."

"No. No, you…" She held his hands tightly, trying to express with touch what she was struggling to convey in words. "You didn't do anything wrong. Thank you. I'm just a coward—"

"Now, I won't have you slander my wife like that."

She gave a wet sort of chuckle, leaning further into his touch as she shut her eyes tightly and just breathed.

"Fine. But I'm still afraid and I shouldn't be. It's been so long."

"You've never really had to seriously consider the idea of going back," he said, still gentle as he ran a thumb over her cheek. "By that metric it's been no time at all."

A hum, hard to read as convinced or otherwise, but she seemed steadier as she gave that some thought. He let the silence build again, seeing the need for it as she tried to get her thoughts in order. Trying to will the right words into existence.

The sun set softly into the sea, making room for the night as he pulled her close and just sat with her silence and warmth. He was happy to wait.

"If you come with me," she finally said, slow and careful as if feeling out unfamiliar ground, "you'll miss your warmth and soft cushions within a day."

He smiled as she opened her eyes a little to peek at him, gauging his reaction.

"I won't break from a little rough living." His voice was warm, a clear refusal to even consider the option of being left behind for his own comfort. "Besides, knowing you, you won't let me lift a finger."

"Because we'd starve otherwise."

A soft breath of amusement. "Admittedly I'm not much of a hunter, but I could certainly menace a vegetable if I was suitably armed."

She laughed, dashing away a tear as she turned her face enough to kiss his palm.

"You can be all warm and comfortable in the finest furs I can find, while I go catch us a deer."

"That sounds like adequate enough comfort for me."

"And you won't—"

He pulled her in for a kiss, feeling her melt into him, into his love and absolute certainty as he stole the rest of her questions and her breath.

Breaking apart, he leaned his forehead against hers with a sigh of contentment.

"I might grouse a little, yes. But I won't change my mind halfway or breathe a word about going back. I think by now you're well acquainted with how stubborn I can be."

Gods, the shine of pure joy and love in her eyes could put even a Waterdhavian sunset to shame.

"Together, then?"

"I wouldn't have anything else."

[fanficsbysteve]

Passing of Presents

Note: Oh look, it’s a “sequel” to Jeremy Crow. I had this idea, and then I had a different idea. So, I mashed them together by the end. Hope everyone likes it. They are a mash of Toy Story 3, and The Velveteen Rabbit.

You should read Jeremy Crow first before this one.

***

Tommy sat on the bed, holding Jeremy Crow out in front of him. It had been 7 years since Evan had taken him into the Repair Shop he had found online. And this was worth every cent they paid to get him fixed up. He had new ‘feathers’ on the outside of his body, he had been restuffed with new soft cotton, and had his eyes repainted and then glazed in. He appeared how Tommy imagined he would look if he had gotten him brand new instead of second hand.

Jeremy Crow had a good life with Tommy. Fending off nightmares, keeping him company in his darkest times. But 5 years ago, Tommy’s life had started to turn completely around. He had gone to therapy to start handling his PTSD in a more productive way. He hadn’t been having nightmares as often and had been testing to see if they would come back by sometimes not having Jeremy with him, or Hubie for that matter. About the same time as he started therapy, Evan had moved in with him. They had settled on Tommy’s house because, well, it was a house and not a loft. As nice as the loft was, it didn’t compare. They had also started to host weekly BBQs for the 118 and the 217 at their house, Evan, however, was the clipboard tyrant when it came to getting everything organized for those events. Tommy wouldn’t admit it, but he found clipboard Evan extremely attractive.

Tommy thought back. They had been living together for 2 years by this point, and Tommy had been leaving Jeremy on a shelf above their bed. Somewhere he could watch over. He was testing the waters. Instead of holding Jeremy at night, he spent his nights holding Evan instead. And Evan really enjoyed that. Though Evan also had a habit of wiggling his butt against Tommy, attempting to get a rise out of him. It usually worked and always lead to some fun times. Tommy did feel a little guilty about making Jeremy watch that. But only a little.

Tommy chuckled to himself. He looked at Jeremy in his hands and smiled. It was time, “Well Jeremy,” Tommy said, “You’ve been one of my best friends for decades now. You were my only friend for so long.”

Tommy brought him close and into a hug, “But I think that it’s time that we parted ways with each other. You always know that I still will have a special place in my soul and heart just for you. But I think it’s time you go somewhere that you will be appreciated.”

Tommy stood up and put Jeremy next to Hubie. Hubie still looked the same as when Evan got him for Tommy. Both Jeremy and Hubie were in separate boxes. Tommy placed a lid on the boxes, each with a different name, and then placed them into a bag. He wasn’t good at wrapping gifts. It would always look like a blind T-Rex had wrapped it if he wrapped it. Better to just do a gift bag.

Tommy walked down the stairs into the living room, Evan was already in there, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I think it’s time,” Tommy replied, “I know it’s time. And they are going to a good home.”

Evan smiled and took the bag from Tommy, he attached a tag to the and held his hand out to Tommy, “Ready to go over then? The invite said 1 pm and we are going to be fashionably late already.”

“What else do they expect from the Guncles?” Tommy said.

“Guncles?” Evan said, “I know you are a Guncle. Not sure what I would be.”

“Buncle?” Tommy said, mildly panicking that he was being offensive to Evan, “I just figured having a plural word would be easier.”

Evan smiled, “I was just teasing. I know what you meant.”

Tommy playfully punched Evan, “Let’s just get going,” Tommy went towards the door, “Maddie’s going to kill us if we are later than fashionably.”

“She won’t kill me at least,” Evan joked as he followed, “Mildly maim probably.”

Tommy shook his head, and they head out to the truck. Evan, jumping into the passenger seat, asked, “Why don’t you let me drive the truck?”

“Well, we always need a passenger princess,” Tommy joked, “Someone to handle the music, and just be all around awesome.”

“Well thank you for calling me the Royalty that I am,” Evan joked back. They started driving towards Maddie and Howie’s House. The Han’s didn’t live too far from Tommy and Evan. Just far enough that they needed to drive to get there in a timely manner, but it wasn’t more than a 15 minute drive. Usually, they would walk over but with the things they needed to bring with them, all of Evan’s baking, gifts for the kids, all kinds of stuff.

“We could have just piled everything into the wagon and walked,” Tommy said, “Would have been faster,” They were currently stuck in traffic.

Evan looked offended, “Firstly, if we had walked, we would be later than we will already be. Second, with all the bumps, all the baking I’ve done over the past two days would be ruined.”

“A ‘ruined’ cookie,” Tommy attempted air quotes while driving, “Is still edible. It’s not like it was underbaked.”

“But you eat with your eyes first,” Evan defended, “A ruined cookie is not as appetizing as a perfect cookie.”

“I’ll let you have this one only because we are going to be at their place soon,” Tommy laughed, “And I’ll eat all the ruined cookies that we have just to prove my point.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Evan laughed as well, “I’ll be sorting out the cookies when we get there anyway. Have to make the platter look nice.”

Tommy pulled into the driveway of Maddie and Howie’s house, behind their minivan. Once they had gathered up everything, they walked up to the door and rang the bell. There was a flurry of jumbled footsteps running towards the door before the door swung open, “UNCLE BUCK!! UNCLE TOMMY!!”

Two children stood before them, with a teenager standing in the back, trying not to look like she was interested. One of the children, a boy, was around 7 years old, while the other, another girl, was maybe 4, “I’d pick you up and give you each a hug if I had any hands left,” Evan joked, “How about you let us in, and we can get to the hugs.”

The children moved out of the way so Tommy and Evan could get into the house, “About time,” came a yell from the kitchen. Howie was sitting at a table, attempting to put together what looked like a nuclear bomb, but it was just one of the many toys the kids would have gotten, and Maddie was in the kitchen, cooking away.

Evan put the gifts down and gave each of the kids a quick hug. Then he went directly to the kitchen, “You didn’t follow the step by step plan I sent you did you,” he said with a smile as he arrived.

Tommy placed his stack of items down as well and gave each of the kids, including the teenager, a longer hug than Evan had, “Come here Daniel” he brought the 7 year old boy into a tight hug, “and you too, Anne,” He pulled the 4 year old into a hug as well. He kept them in the hug for a while, “You have to hug someone for at least 20 seconds for it to work,” Tommy explained.

“20 seconds?” Anne asked.

“Yeah,” Tommy explained, “You need to hug someone for 20 seconds and it will have some health benefits. I don’t know what kind exactly, but your Uncle Buck read about it. I’d go and ask him for a longer hug and ask him why 20 seconds is so important.”

The two smaller kids giggled and ran away into the kitchen to find their other uncle, “And what about you Jee? A hug for your Uncle Tommy?”

Jee rolled her eyes, but she smiled as she came to give Tommy a hug, “I saw you just last week,” she said into his midriff, she wasn’t quite tall enough that her head was at his chest height, but she was taller than it being at his stomach, “You helped with my homework.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want another hug,” Tommy laughed. He let her go, “Alright let’s get to the tree so I can put some stuff under it and then I can help your Mom and Uncle with the dinner. Based on what I’m hearing in the kitchen, they will need a mediator soon and your Dad really likes to just watch the drama unfold far too much. Maybe help him out with that toy he’s currently struggling with.”

“He really does,” Jee laughed. Tommy grabbed the pile of gifts they had brought, including the bag that held Jeremy and Hubie, and put them under a beautifully decorated tree in the living room. Buck had come over to help with it, and he had developed a way to hang the baubles that made it both visually appealing, while keeping the most space for other items such as garland and lights.

After placing the gifts under the tree, Tommy went back to the entry and grabbed the containers of baked goods that Buck had made for the night. There were two containers just for cookies, one held a pumpkin pie, another held several different loaves that Howie had specifically asked for, “How are things going in here?” Tommy walked into the kitchen. Maddie was beating Buck off with a wooden spoon as he attempted to try and get the timing of everything back on track. He had his clipboard out.

“Clipboard Buck is in the house tonight,” Howie joked, “I would stay out of there if I were you.”

“Oh, I know Clipboard Evan quite well,” Tommy shuddered as he pulled a chair out at the table and sat with Howie, “The first time we held Thanksgiving at our place,” Tommy shuddered, “I put the potatoes on 10 minutes too early and I got a 30 minute lecture on following the timings on the timetable. He also comes out before all the BBQs at our place.”

“He is not to be reckoned with when he has his clipboard out,” Howie went back to building the item in front of him, “It’s like you need a doctorate in rocket science to put these things together.”

“Should have invited Karen and Hen if you needed that,” Tommy joked, “You just have me who can read instructions.”

“Well, be my guest if you can make heads or tails of it,” Howie pushed the instructions over towards Tommy.

It took them about 20 minutes of deciphering and eventually the toy was put together and Daniel was happily playing with it. Maddie and Evan had made a truce and were successfully cooking, “When can we open Uncle Buck and Uncle Tommy’s presents?” a voice cut the calm.

Anne was waiting anxiously to open them, “When we are finished dinner sweetie,” Maddie said, “Its almost done.”

Tommy looked at Evan and he just mouthed, “Not even close.”

“But I want to open them now,” Anne stomped her foot and whined.

“Maybe let her and Daniel open one to keep the peace?” Tommy suggested.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Howie said, “Uncle Tommy, would you go get something?”

Tommy left the room and went and grabbed the bag that he had placed both Hubie and Jeremy into. He brought the bag into the dining room where both Anne and Daniel were waiting, “Now we put something special and unique into this bag just for the two of you,” Tommy looked at Anne and Daniel, “We need you to take care of them ok? They are old and need a new home. You think you can give that to them?”

Anne and Daniel both nodded their heads. Tommy smiled and handed the bag over. The two boxes had been labeled already. One for Daniel, one for Anne. The two children took the boxes with their name on them and opened them. Jeremy and Hubie sat staring back at the children. Hubie at Anne, and Jeremy at Daniel, “Does he have a name?” Anne asked as she pulled Hubie out of the box. Howie and Maddie were standing together looking at their children opening gifts while Evan hovered behind. Tommy knew that Evan was hovering to make sure that he was ok with this.

“Well, I used to call this one,” Tommy pointed at the penguin, “Hubie,” He then pointed at the crow, “And that one was named Jeremy. But you can name them whatever you want. I just want you to know that they are old, so you need to be careful with them. As I said they need new homes and new kids to play with.”

Anne pulled Hubie into a big hug, “I love him,” she announced as she stood up and dragging Hubie along with here came and gave Tommy the biggest hug.

Daniel looked at Jeremy. Tommy could see something in Daniel’s eye as he looked at the stuffed crow. He recognized it as the same sense of love that Tommy had when he first got Jeremy all those many years ago, “Thank you,” Daniel whispered. He also walked over and gave Tommy a big hug. Anne had already moved on to hugging Evan at this point.

Tommy took this moment to whisper in Daniel’s ear, “Jeremy used to be mine when I was a little boy. He helped me through lots of things growing up. So, I want you to have him now. And when you have a family of your own, I want you to pass this down to your family as well. So, he can always be there to help everyone when they are growing up,” Tommy looked around conspiratorially, “And there is a story that if a stuffed animal like Jeremy is loved fully and completely by someone, they will turn real.”

“Really?” Daniel looked awed by this idea, “I’ll love him so much that he turns real one day.”

“That’s all he wants,” Tommy said to Daniel, “Now lets let Uncle Buck and your Mom get dinner ready.”

***

Tommy and Buck were sitting in their living room, both too full to move anywhere. Evan had to undo the belt and button on his pants, “So full,” He moaned stretching out, “I’m going to not have to eat for a week.”

“With all the leftovers Maddie sent home with us,” Tommy replied, “I don’t think we will need to cook for the next week.”

“Oh, I have plans for those leftovers,” Evan joked. He then looked over at Tommy, “How are you doing? I know that had to have been hard passing Jeremy along like that.”

“Honestly it really wasn’t,” Tommy said, “And I added a little extra bit of something for Daniel,” Tommy smiled to himself, “I told him that if he loved Jeremy fully, then Jeremy would turn real.”

Evan chuckled, “That’s one way to make sure that he doesn’t get destroyed.”

Tommy smiled. He looked out the window and gasped, “Look,” Tommy said as reached out for Evan’s hand and leaned forward. Sitting on the banister of their front porch was a pitch black crow, just staring in at them. Tommy looked at the crow for a minute before it flew off.

“Jeremy was just here,” Tommy breathed still staring at the spot on the porch where he saw the crow sitting. He felt Evan sit up next to him and look.

“Well, you did love him fully and completely,” Evan said, “Giving him away to someone else was the last sign of loving him fully. Now he could become a real crow for you.”

Tommy felt tears welling up in his eyes and he leaned back into the couch, Evan pulling him into a hug. That was the perfect ending for Tommy, “Maybe he did.”

The two of them curled up on the couch, too exhausted and full of food to move. They snuggled up, Tommy curling up into Evan and he fell into a peaceful sleep. His dreams were of a crow flying freely among the city’s skyscrapers, the wind lifting him up to heights that Tommy could only dream of seeing like he does. Jeremy had visited him to say Thank You, Tommy knew it was what happened. And now Tommy was at peace. Curled up with his husband on a couch that was bought specifically for snuggling on, Tommy sighed and had the most restful sleep he had ever had.

***                

Note: I wrote this on Christmas Eve (it went extremely fast) and edited it to the best of my ability on Christmas Day morning so I could post it for you all to read. Let me know what you think of it all. Happy Holidays to everyone for whatever you are celebrating today.

I haven't posted this on AO3 yet cause everyone on here seems to love Jeremy Crow and the notes I'm getting on it made me weepy so I want you all to get it first. I'll probably post it there tomorrow morning before I go Boxing Day shopping.

[hollyhawthorn]

thank u sweet @garagepaperback for the tag re: how our various harrys and dracos are spending christmas. my headcanons for my own damn fics are as follows:

psychopomp: these mf soft boys...they would have the platonic ideal of a cozy domestic happy ending drarry christmas. they'll sleep late and have a slow morning involving kitten and/or puppy snuggles in bed, coffee and pastries and a lot of kissing in the kitchen, and then some gentle heartfelt sex in front of the fire. in the afternoon they head over to the burrow (narcissa, andromeda and teddy come too) for christmas dinner, naps, and card/board games. when they get home in the evening they get crossed in front of a christmas movie

where i have to go: christmas happens between the main story and epilogue in this one. even though this harry feels very conflicted about being back at hogwarts, i believe in my heart of hearts he would want to spend one last holiday at school :) draco stays too (i didn't spend much time on his family situation in this fic, but he's pretty self-aware and i am not sure his relationship with his father especially would be very comfortable at this stage postwar) me, forgetting i put lucius in prison for this fic bc that’s how deeply irrelevant i find him. whatever. draco stays at hogwarts ok im the voice of god here. a lot of the other 8th yrs would also stick around the castle for various reasons, so the common room hangouts are happening at an increased frequency (hopefully ernie went home). harry and draco manage to get a lot of alone time, though, and there are some very cute wintry hogsmeade dates, amicable snowball fights, morning snuggles, teenage fumblings in bed etc. same softness level as the above but they're at school. this is really solidifying my new year's resolution to write a less syrupy-sweet flavor of drarry

the tie: they get called into work on christmas for a nonspecific plot device of an auroring emergency. harry wears a stupid tacky christmas tie. on their lunch break draco stuffs it in his mouth and rails him over the bathroom sink

twirled around his finger: draco puts one of his batons up harry's butt

taggingggg @dryrsheet @smehur @lemonlimelea @edieblakee @thehoneybeet @poljupci @ anyone else who has ideas about drarry and christmas :))))

[peonysgreenhouse]

-`♡´- silent archives.

summary: mistletoe kisses. (gn!reader x jonathan sims, martin blackwood, tim stoker, sasha james, and elias bouchard + helen/peony)

tags: kissies, fluff, helen distortion x my oc (peony) for funsies :], happy holidays everyone!!! <3

The stairs down to the Archives are narrow, dimly lit; you watch your feet over the stack of manila folders in your hands to make sure you don’t miss a step. You can hear the buzz of the old fluorescents, the clean smell of linen and parchment of the upper floors making way to something less pleasant and dusty; like the smell of a page starting to yellow. 

You’re a step behind them, elbows tucked close to your body, trying to avoid the cobwebs woven between the wall and the handrail. No matter how many times you had dusted the place, come morning the webs would be spun anew. Whatever spiders made their homes down here were winning the war of attrition. 

You stop when you reach the bottom step, lingering by the entryway to continue your discussion about… something that slips from your mind the moment you look up. Taped clumsily to the top of the entryway, tied with a small red bow is a fistful of mistletoe. 

Their gaze follows your own upward, and…

-`♡´- jonathan sims

...And Jon scoffs.

“Tim put this up, I presume?” Jon says dryly, readjusting his glasses. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world but here.

“Dunno. I haven’t seen him today.” You say, adjusting the files in your hands. “Sooo…”

Jon lets out a breath, then rubs at the bridge of his nose, under his glasses. This close, you think you spot a few more greys that weren’t there the last time you saw him. “Tell him to take it down, if you see him. I’d rather not have people… fraternizing in the Archives.”

If he didn’t sound so tired, you might’ve laughed. “Right. But, uh, just so I don’t get cursed, do you mind if I…” You shift the files to one hand, and reach your free hand up to point at your cheek. 

“If you really believe such a superstition, I question if this job has affected your discernment.” Jon rubs his hand over his own cheek, as if contemplating. After a moment, he sighs again. “Fine. You can…” He makes a vague gesture, then turns his head closer to your own. 

You hesitate for a moment, finding the sight of your boss waiting expectantly almost… cute. You lean over and press a kiss to his cheek; soft lips against rough stubble. 

“...You’re ridiculous.” He says, reluctantly fond. For a moment, he looks like he might say something else. Instead, he settles on: “Get back to work.”

-`♡´- martin blackwood

...And Martin’s eyes go as wide as saucers.

“Oh, uh, I wonder who put that there.” Martin coughs into his fist anxiously, then rubs his hands together as if to soothe.

“I wonder.” You say playfully, though you have an idea of who the culprit was. 

“We don’t have to… do anything, that is if you don’t want to.” Martin scratches his neck anxiously, playing with the baby hairs on the nape of his neck. The action is almost performative in its cuteness. “It’s just a silly tradition…” He laughs sheepishly. 

“And if I want to participate in this silly tradition?” You respond, stepping just a bit closer, the edges of the manila folders in your hands tapping against his chest. “...With you?”

“Oh!” He nearly squeaks out. You don’t ever think you’ve seen him quite so speechless. “Oh, that would… That is to say… I would…” Martin groans, seemingly annoyed at his own inability to speak clearly. Then he leans down, pressing his lips to your temple, a sweet display of affection.

You lean into his lips, almost chasing them as he pulls away. “That was nice. I almost want another.”

“Ah, well, I’d be… happy to provide.” Martin visibly brightens. “Just… Maybe not in the Archives? I’d hate to have Jon walk out, and uh…”

You laugh, picturing Jon’s exasperated expression. He’d probably send Martin away for good if he had to see that. And you as well, for good measure. “Mm, after work then? Maybe we could get drinks?”

“Yes!” He says, over eager, then he adds, “I mean, yes… That sounds lovely.”

-`♡´- tim stoker

...And Tim gets the goofiest grin on his face.

“Well, well…” He wiggles his eyebrows, sounding overly amused with himself. “Look what we have here.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, but you can’t deny his attitude was infectious. “...Really?”

“Don’t give me that look. I certainly didn’t put that up there.” He holds up his hands, the picture of innocence. “But I’m certainly not complaining that I was caught underneath it with my gorgeous co-worker and best friend. Perhaps this is… destiny.”

“You’re so dramatic.” You respond, playfully dry. Still, you can hardly even pretend to be annoyed at him. “C’mere.” You lean up and press a lingering kiss to his cheek. He smells like something clean and floral, and his skin warms underneath your lips.

When you pull back, he touches the spot you just kissed, as if to chase the slowly fading feeling of your lips against his skin. The corners of his eyes crinkle as his smile turns almost sheepish.

“Do I get to return the favor?” He asks, cheekily, his hand brushing against your shoulder as he steps closer, encroaching in on your space. Not that you really mind.

“I’m waiting.” You say, and Tim doesn’t wait a second after getting your permission. He grabs your cheeks in his hand, his lips kissing the side of your mouth with an unnecessarily loud smacking sound. You can’t help but laugh as he pulls back, his hands still cradling your face, unable to look away. 

“Maybe one more for good measure, yeah?” His thumb strokes down your cheekbone. “Maybe it’ll make us extra lucky.”

“Excellent idea.” You say, already moving in to kiss him – proper, this time. 

-`♡´- sasha james

…And Sasha gasps, playfully scandalized.

“My, my…” She says. “A real predicament we’ve gotten ourselves into, hm?”

The look in her eyes makes you nervous; like she’s expecting something, and she’d hate for you to disappoint her. Or perhaps that’s your own projection – she’s so close, and so beautiful. Your arms tighten around the files you’re holding.

“Seems like it.” You respond, the words more confident than you feel. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to…”

“I’m well aware.” Sasha laughs, and for a moment it looks like she might tease you further. You can feel your cheeks warm. “But lucky for you, I think you look quite adorable right now.”

Sasha moves in closer, and you close the gap, your lips meeting her own. How could you ever forget the gentle way her lips move against yours? Soft, sticky; her lip gloss tastes like peppermint, and it makes your mouth tingle. When you pull back, her hand is covering her mouth as she laughs.

“You have a little…” Her hand comes forward, and wipes her smudged gloss off of your lips. It feels almost as nice as the kiss itself.

-`♡´- elias bouchard

...And Elias looks at you, unreadable as always.

“Ah.” He tuts. “I suppose this was someone’s idea of a prank?”

Just your luck to be the first victim. And just your luck to be caught underneath it with Elias. You pretend to have not noticed, looking up again after he poses his question.

“Oh. That…” You lie, rather lamely. “I’m not sure, I haven’t seen it until now.”

“I see.” He pauses, and you shift your feet, the silence growing uncomfortable as he watches you. 

“Would you… like me to take it down?” You ask, moving to make yourself useful. Before you can get too far away, he speaks up. 

“No, no. It’s just harmless fun.” He makes a dismissive gesture, and you visibly relax. You don’t want to think about how ridiculous you would look balancing on an office chair trying to take the mistletoe down. “Might… improve morale down here, as it is.”

“I’m surprised you’re alright with it.” You say, giving him a sideways look. “Sounds like a HR problem waiting to happen.”

Elias laughs at that. "I assure you it will be fine.” He pauses, then. “It would only be inappropriate if someone like me initiated, so to speak.” Elias looks down at you, the ghost of a smile on his lips. His words are suggestive, challenging almost. Before you can lose your nerve, you lean over and kiss his cheek.

“So… that’s alright, then?” You ask. The scent of his expensive cologne follows you, even as you pull away.

“Precisely.” Elias says, sounding pleased with himself, pleased with you. "Though, if you'd like a little... reciprocation, I recommend we go back to my office."

You can't find it in you to say no.

-`♡´- helen/peony

Helen is the one holding the little bundle of mistletoe over Peony’s head, a sharp-toothed grin on her face.

“Look what I found, darling.” Helen says, shaking the plant overhead, as if Peony didn’t see her approach with it. It looks comically small in Helen's unnaturally large hands. “This does bring back memories, doesn’t it?”

“Those memories aren’t yours.” Peony corrects, moving past Helen to her desk. When she sets the stack of folders down, Helen is leaning over Peony’s shoulder, boxing her in.

“Spoilsport.” Helen tuts, feigning disappointment that she’s not playing along. “I don’t want to argue semantics with you again. I’m in a good mood, after all.” 

Peony turns, looking up at Helen; Helen’s features shift ever so slightly the more she focuses on certain points of the Distortion’s face. Sometimes she looks like the Helen Peony remembers; or perhaps Peony is just searching too hard for something that was never there. Still, she can’t help but look every time. 

“Did you come here just for…” Peony motions to the mistletoe, still held out in Helen’s palm. 

“Is it so wrong to want some affection from my favorite person?” Helen says, sweet as honey. “I get lonely too, you know.”

It’s so ridiculous Peony almost laughs, like it wasn’t the Distortion’s fault for Peony’s own loneliness. 

Still, the Archives were much too quiet nowadays. Peony aches for the familiar comfort of another, and she’ll take it even if it’s from something as cold and inhuman as Helen. Peony’s eyes flick down to Helen’s lips. Yes, they almost looked the same. Would they taste the same as her Helen’s once did?

“...You just want a kiss?” Peony asks, quietly. Helen narrows her eyes, looking far too pleased with herself. Peony can almost hear the sound of metal teeth snapping shut.

“If that’s what you’re willing to give me, darling.” She bends down, her face just above Peony’s. Peony doesn’t give herself any time to think this through, instead moving forward, pushing her lips against Helen’s in a slow, tentative kiss. Peony feels one of Helen's fingers run down her back, sharp, even through layers of clothes, and she shivers.

With Peony's eyes closed, it was easy to pretend that this is a stolen moment of normalcy; for a moment, she's back in her Helen's house, pressed up against her on the couch as they wind down from their long work days.

"...Now, was that so hard?" Helen muses, and Peony's eyes flutter open. Peony touches her lips, feeling her smudged chapstick, and she sighs.

Peony leans in for a second kiss.

[gachagon]

Hypocrisy anon here and I agree completely with your response, especially the tags.

I really hope a p:eg writer writes a fic about a Danganronpa character being plopped into Project Eden's Garden cause I feel like the dichotomy between them and the cast would be so good.

Like I could see the cast seeing Makoto as a complete anomaly with how optimistic he is even compared to Diana. With Hajime I could see many of the characters shunning him with Damon doing so too. Nagito and Kokichi I feel like would be even more wildcards than they were in their own games.

If Eva had been with any other group she either wouldn't have murdered or I think she would've won that Killing Game. The THH and SDR group were like so friendly and trusting of one another that each trial was a gut punch because they knew someone had genuinely betrayed them or felt like they had been backed into a corner into becoming one of the Blackened. (Aside from Celestia who was just straight up trying to win it lol)

I definitely think she would've won the Killing Game for THH if she befriended Naegi and still did her whole "I'm gonna frame someone else" plot. Only because I think Naegi and the others would have had too much faith in her T_T

Hajime had to vote for multiple people he actually liked so I don't think she'd have won SDR's Killing Game, but alternatively she wouldn't have murdered if she had a support group and seeing as the SDR crew were like legit besties even after the Killing Game, I could see her not resorting to murder.

V3 however, idk I feel like she would've lost. She'd have had to tell a lie so convincing that it'd trick the REAL Ultimate Liar, Kokichi Ouma and I just don't see Eva doing that. But I do think she'd bond with other characters in V3 because she wouldn't be the only person with an "unusual" talent. (That, and her ostracizing starts because she's the first to point out the naivety of believing no one would murder. The other crews I feel would've had more people who would've agreed with her openly rather than following some leader. That way she wouldn't be alone in her opinion, which sort of makes her spiral from the jump.)

Like Kirigiri and Byakuya would've agreed with her in THH, I can see Fuyuhiko and Peko backing her up on the whole "we really CAN'T trust people like that..." point, Maki and Shuichi would've also agreed with the idea of it etc...but in Eden's Garden the only person she had was Damon, and Diana agreed but not outwardly and she did just stay quiet for the most part T_T (i love Diana but I feel like Eva had a bit of a point, it's like when you're in a group of friends and they're bullying someone and you point out how they're all being kind of mean, but nothing happens bc you don't do anything personally to distance yourself from that kind of behavior.)

That, and the other crews didn't have a "leader" until like the very end. Sure there was someone to help lead the discussions of the trials, but outside of trials they didn't have someone who dictated what they did or when they did it etc. Like nobody was looking to Naegi or Shuichi or Hajime as leaders to make decisions for everyone. When Wolfgang was like "Just bring any suspicious clues to me next time Desmond" I knew that shit wouldn't fly if it was THH or something (Byakuya would've called him out on it so fast lmao)

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 9

Chapter 9: marauding Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, arthur's mental health is kind of not so good...VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Guns and violence. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. WC: 5212 CHAPTER 9 !!! Thank you guys so much for all of your comments and replies and feedback, I've been loving it!!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖 Thank you for all of the lovely asks as well, @frillydolle @emerald-ranch @teenalien-xx and anyone else who has sent an ask about this series… you guys are the best, I LOVE YOU watch out for meanie arthur AGAIN LMAO😈 Tags: no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace. some scary shit, so watch out 👀Arthur being rude as always just... low honor arthur as a warning lol

You wait for Arthur to decide what happens to your family.

It’s entirely too still in your family home. The air is as stiff and immovable, just like the man, your man as he likes to say, standing behind you. Arthur’s presence is unwavering. As always, he has a natural inclination to hold dominance, to control. He doesn’t seem bothered by this situation, not like you do, not like your parents who watch on, powerless to stop him. In fact, it’s like he’s in his element. He holds himself with that signature cockiness, not misplaced for a second.

You pant in panic, feet shuffling underneath you. You grip onto the rough hide of his coat, scratching your nails into it, as if you can hold onto him for support but you know that whatever happens is ultimately Arthur’s choice.

Both of your parents have withering glances and worried stares. Their mouths are agape in shock, they try to move closer instinctively but Arthur cocks the hammer back on his gun. You can’t move, Arthur holds you much too tight, you almost can’t breathe. Fat tears drip down the roundness of your cheeks and down your jaw.

“You let her go, she didn’t hurt nobody, she never meant anybody any harm-” Your mother is trying to speak past her worry and anger. She devolves into a strangled cry, covering her face. Arthur has a rough chuckle, it grates on you. He thinks this is amusing, an exciting development.

“Yeah, gentle as a lamb, this one. You raised a real sweet girl, really knows how to make a man feel special, don’t she?” he has a light casual tone, as if he isn’t holding a gun up to your mother. His insinuation makes your face warm in shame, casting your gaze to the ground.

“Arthur…” Pleading with him results in nothing, you only want this to be over, you wish you could sink into the floor. At least then, you wouldn’t cause your parents so much grief. You thought he cared for you but that care does not extend past you to your family. This is simply how he gets what he wants and it doesn't matter to him that it’s your parents. That you beg him not to do this. Anyone who stands in his way risks their life.

“Honey, much as I like to hear you beg for me, now ain’t the time,”

Your father’s glare is full of disdain, disgust. Arthur revels in it, you can feel his chest puff up, he stands a little taller. His aim doesn’t dip at all, keeping his gun steady. He’s calculating what to do, where to go from here. All of you wait to see what he decides. It’s terrifying how it feels like he’s done this before, pointed his gun at innocent people to get what he wants. Arthur controls every single aspect of the situation with an untroubled air.

“We haven’t very much but you could have it all if it means you leave ‘er alone,” Your father’s hands are raised in defeat and surrender. Arthur scoffs.

“You ain’t got much, that’s true. Just one thing I want,” You whine, his grip isn’t rough, only firm, reminding you of how he thinks of you. You belong to him and you always will.

“Don’t want a goddamn thing, ‘cept her. What do you think, sweetheart? I take care of you?” You blink, you flush a little, unable to contain the joy his words bring to the sick part of you that likes Arthur. You can’t stand to look up and look at your parents. Their mortified faces, their utter horror. He becomes more vulgar as you fail to answer. Pushing you to say what he wants you to say.

“She might have a big mouth when it comes to this but her mouth weren’t so goddamn big last time I checked. Couldn’t fit all of me in there, now could you, pretty girl…could only stand to take ‘bout half of me,” your father’s disdain turns into disgust, malice. He looks as if he’s about to do something, angry tears well in his eyes. You can’t stand to see your family’s faces as they hear of the depraved things you did for Arthur.

“Yes! Yes, you… you took care of me,” you practically sob, mortified and humiliated, overcome by fear and a violent pang of regret. You focus on the wood grain of the floor, vision blurring with your own tears. Your voice is a shame filled whisper.

“Just stop this Arthur; I’ll go with you, please, let’s just go,” You beg again, hoping he’ll listen, that he’ll take you with him. That you can salvage whatever is left for whatever brief moments of peace you had with Arthur.

Your father says your name between clenched teeth. “You are not going anywhere,” his face twists, he doesn’t want to see you leave with Arthur but you don’t see another choice. Another way out of this situation without Arthur hurting your parents. All you can imagine is a hole in your father’s head, like the hole in the head of the man who tried robbing your campsite. The glazed over look in his eyes. Arthur hasn’t shown you anything that makes you think he would actually pull the trigger on your parents but right now, he’s a cornered rattlesnake. Poised and ready to strike if the moment calls for it.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that just yet,” Arthur huffs. You can almost hear the way one side of his mouth lifting up to show off that prideful smirk.

“What’s that you said? Didn’t matter, as long as I took good care of her. Never even said I loved her and you was ready to send her off. Don’t sound like anybody cares for her ‘round here. You sent her out there; for what? Don't you think ol' granny's lived long enough?” you look away, a subtle pain erupts in your chest. He never did say that he loved you.

There’s a cruel edge to his voice. He talks as if he's telling a joke. He motions vaguely in the direction of your grandmother. His casually callous words do seem to strike a cord with your mother; she closes her eyes, feeling the guilt he wants to inflict.

More tears spill over your lash line. If you had just been modest, if you had fought him, maybe you wouldn’t be so ashamed, you wouldn’t have disgraced yourself like this. But what hope did you have? He overpowered you then like he overpowers you now, his heavy arms slung over your neck, any shift from you and he presses his arm tighter.

“Should’ve known your Pa was spineless. Your woman's more man than you. Had more backbone than you; were you really gonna sign your only kid away like that?”

“You’re no man; no man at all,” Your father’s outcry at Arthur hits him more than he knows. “You’re nothing, just the scum of the earth here to take what isn’t yours,” your fathers tone is panicked still but you can tell he means every word, his face screwed up in anger. He may not know it but you know his comment impacts Arthur; more than Arthur would ever let on so obviously. But his hand squeezes harder at his gun, his posture stiffens behind you as you’re pressed against his body. Arthur doesn't have any room to hear your father’s complaints, does not let them go without consequences.

A bullet shatters something on the mantle and both you and your mother scream. You sob against Arthur, shock forces you still under his arm. The gun firing in the enclosed room has your ears ringing. You think your father is dead, you feel your stomach drop and more tears drip down your face. Everything fades away for a moment. You don’t know what you'd do if your father died today.

Your father clutches his shoulder, his hand comes away with blood. Your mother checks frantically over your father while his legs tremble, groaning in pain. Then he collapses into his knee. The smell of blood and his gunfire consume the space. You sniff, acknowledging that your father isn’t gravely injured but still, you thrash until he has something to say about it.

“Calm down, it ain’t exactly fatal,” he says, as if his bullet simply grazed your father’s arm. “Should teach you to keep your mouth shut. I’m usually less polite,”

“You’re a coward, is what you are,” your father struggles to speak past his pain. Your mother presses some fabric to his injury.

“You are really startin’ to annoy me. I ain’t got a single problem with leaving your neck a bloody stump but I don’t want her to see that. Do you?” His voice drops as low as it can go, a hostility that isn’t just for show. You whine, shaking your head, pressing backwards into Arthur. It doesn’t matter what happens to you, all you want is for him to take you away, to spare your family.

“No! No, Arthur, stop, I wanna go back to your house,” you attempt to pull his attention back to you. “Pa, I-I need to be with Arthur, It’s like you always said, right?” You look at him with as genuine a smile you can pull but the ache of your circumstances pulls you down. Your father shakes his head but you nod.

“Arthur, please…” you turn over your shoulder as much as you can. You plead with him with your eyes too. Imparting your desperation in your gaze. You know that Arthur, although steadfast and stubborn, can be moved by you. Something in you, whatever has captured his attention has him wanting to please you too. You can see how he huffs, looks this way and that. But he’s giving in, letting you have your way. His anger doesn’t dissipate entirely but he drops his shoulders.

“Alright, enough of this. Think we’re done with this little family reunion, ain’t we, sweetheart?” You nod vigorously, sniffing past your tears, trying to blink them away. You’re glad that endearing yourself to Arthur is still a trick you have up your sleeve. He seems to be done with whatever fight your parents put up, there isn’t a lot of it they have to offer. They cower at the end of his revolver. Your father puts himself in front of your mother, despite his injury bleeding onto the cloth your mother gave him. But he has no weapon to defend anyone with.

“No, you don’t have to go, sweetie,” Arthur’s finger twitches at the trigger, making your mother’s desperately hopeful voice fall silent. The teary eyed smile she gives you falls like her voice does.

“I’m not sure you heard what I said. But I’ll make it easier for you to understand. She ain’t your little girl anymore; she’s her own woman,” he mocks your mothers words. “N’ she wants to come with me,” you whimper as his arm gets tighter, unconsciously expressing his possessive attitude towards you. He looks down at you, lightening up a little.

“I’m real sorry it had to be like this, wanted somethin’ different for you. But I ain’t the one who went n’ messed it all up,” the blame he puts on you has your heart sinking. If you were just a better liar, maybe he wouldn’t be here, aiming a gun at your father who is already on the ground, staunching the blood which drips out over the fabric anyway.

“Shouldn’t hafta say this but I feel that maybe I have to. You make this difficult and I leave a bigger mess for your wife to clean up, you understand?” He’s speaking only to your father. His arm eases off of you, slowly. You can feel the underlying threat in his tone.

“Now, go and grab your things, honey.” His finality and the dead silence make you hesitate, like if you move it’s official. If you move, then you can’t go back to this moment again. To this place again. But he nudges you towards your room, motioning his gun, still pointing with that deadly aim you know he has. You go to your bedroom in a trance almost, walking past your parents, you can’t bear to see them. Their terrified faces, the mournful stare they watch you with. As if you walk to your execution.

In your room, the chest is much too heavy for you to take with you. So you leave your clothes and take only things you can’t get back. The most precious things to you. A book of stories from your youth, some toys and your favorite toy, figurines your father gave to you and a shawl knitted by your grandmother. Silent tears drip as you pack them into a much smaller valise, bead of water gathering over the wool of your shawl. Your supplies for knitting and embroidering are stowed away too but you don’t take any of the unnecessary bits you have.

You snap it shut. It feels like this chapter of your life is snapping shut too, you know it, so deep inside of yourself. That you’ll never see your family again. By some miracle perhaps, but never the same way at the very least. You wipe violently at your face, picking up your suitcase, changing quickly into a fresher set of clothes before you step out.

The smile he has for you is tinged with the violence of the gleam of the silver metal in his hand. That wolfish grin, a bear's snarl more than something that reflects any true joy. You walk to him, stand at his side, the way you know he wants you too.

Your father still has that gleam in his eye, like he wants to fight against Arthur. You frown. You don’t want him getting hurt trying in vain to save you. That’s the last thing you want. You know that sacrificing yourself for the safety of your parents isn’t what your father wants but you don’t want anyone hurt here because of you.

“Please, Pa. Just leave us alone. I… I want to be with Arthur,” you murmur. It’s harder to say as you look at your father’s hand clenching over his wound. You’re not even sure if you mean it yourself. But Arthur is your reality now. Whether you like it or not.

Your mother starts to cry louder now. You blink, holding back the loud noise of your emotions. You drop your bag, hugging your family tight in one strong motion, letting them hold you tightly. Your fathers blood stains your cheek but you don’t care. Your mother brushes it off your cheek.

You want to hold them for as long as you can. Your mother shakes against you and your father kisses your hair. You separate yourself slowly. You want to keep this moment forever. Maybe you’d see them again, you’d beg and beg Arthur to take you here again. But you doubt he’d say yes. Or even worse, your family would refuse to see you, the disgrace you’d be after leaving with Arthur.

“You don’t have to go with him…” Your mother pets your hair. You shake your head.

“Yes, I do. Pa’s already hurt, I can’t-” You can’t see anymore of this. You know he’ll survive this, he has survived worse. But you don’t want anyone else getting hurt on your account. Your mother and father tell you they love you. At least someone in this room has the sentiment in them to say it to your face. You tuck strands of your hair behind your ear, sniffing quietly.

“I’ll be ok, I promise,” you bid, trying to soothe their worries but it’s like they don’t hear you at all, as if you said nothing. You back up, one step at a time before you’re taking your things in both hands again, clutching at the wooden handle of your case like it's the only thing keeping you from floating away. Arthur has his revolver in his holster now. You give them a parting look, trying to absorb as many memories of your childhood as you can, before Arthur guides you out of the door.

The cold greets you again, you pull his coat around you tighter, letting him help you up into the wagon after he places your things in the back of the cart. You hardly look at him, instead watching your parents delicately step outside to watch helplessly as you ride away with Arthur. You can hardly stand to watch as your mother falls in a heap on the cold snow. Your father looks on, a devastation is made clear in his defeated posture, his somber gaze. You bring yourself to do it anyway, looking until you can’t see them anymore.

You don’t talk with Arthur. There’s a stiff air between the both of you. Any minute amount of companionship or whatever fake love he made you feel is gone. He has told your parents what happened, and threatened to kill them if they didn’t let you go. You don’t know what you had imagined when you first arrived at your parents house but it wasn’t this. You had prayed things wouldn’t end in blood but perhaps you were too hopeful to expect Arthur to keep his nature in check.

The clouds from earlier seem to have blown away for now. The winter sun is starting to dip lower, an orange hue lights the horizon beyond the dark trunks of the bare trees.

Arthur lets you have your space and some time to stew but he’s had enough. He heaves a sigh, like he knows you’ll be upset with him. But acting as if it’s unfair that you’re not in the best mood has you just about ready to slap him; consequences be damned.

“Listen, I didn’t want things to go that way,” his voice is hardly apologetic, some stuck on emotion that isn’t sorry one bit.

“So you didn’t mean to shoot my father? Arthur, don’t…I think you’ve said and done enough today,” you warn. You don’t want to listen to him talk. It's like he just likes the sound of his own voice right now more than anything.

“What did you say to your mama anyway? You tell her I held you down? That I violated you? Or you tell her how much you like my tongue inside your-“

“Arthur! Stop it. I- I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to,” you pull your collar to the side but only slightly. You show him the mark he left on you. “She certainly understood the message,” you want to cry, to show him the angry tears dripping down your face.

“I’m just lucky you didn’t leave my father’s neck a bloody stump, aren’t I?” You spit at him. You let your tears dry, only anger left inside you. A rage you didn’t know you had. An anger you’ve shown him before in brief glimpses when you give him lip but not like this, not quite pushed to the edge as now.

You ignore how his hands tighten on the reins. How his breathing becomes heavier. His eyes track over the mark. A symbol of his supposed ownership. The iris of his eye is such a pretty blue, hidden by the narrowing of his eyes and then the dip of his head, the brim of his hat lowering over them. His body postures, like he wants to act but he holds it all back. His shoulders tense under the brown fur of his coat.

“Maybe my Pa was right, huh? You; Arthur Morgan, can act all high and mighty, but I’m not sure you’re a man at all either,” you let yourself continue, not minding Arthur’s reaction which is about to boil over on you. “I’m not sure men are supposed to act anything like-”

Your defiant tone is clipped short by his hand on your face, the fingers are tight on your cheeks. It doesn’t hurt you but he holds you in place, pinned down like a lamb to be sheared. His eyes are cold now, his face is frighteningly neutral. He makes you look him in his eyes, meeting his frosted gaze. The anger in your face dissolves like sugar in water. Replaced by the surprise of his sudden action.

“Yeah, you are lucky I didn’t blow his head off, leave his brain on the wall for your Mama to scrape off with a goddamn spoon,” his voice is rough and low, touching something in your head that drains all the anger, some old instinct in you. But not a new one, one you’ve had before. Melting into him, the way you did the first time he grabbed you, he held you against the counter. “As for my manhood; I ain’t got nothin’ to prove. But you’re all too familiar with mine, ain’t you, girl?” You burn red hot at his derisive question.

His eyes are focused in a quiet rage, but he shakes his head, as if thinking of something, of a better way to handle it. Hopefully for your sake; something not too rash. Then he moves his sharp gaze to the lonely woods behind you.

“If you want to try and run now, by all means. Be my guest,” it’s maybe the last thing you would think he’d say. It’s against everything he’s done to you, you give him a look, bewildered. No way Arthur would let you go so fast. You’re almost confused but you wait for his catch. Things with Arthur are never so easy.

“But if I catch you, you’re mine,” A strange smirk and a cruel glare are what he offers. That easy cockiness returns to him, his sure attitude, the certainty in his brow. The leather of his gloves is cold on your face still. It’s a game he wants to play with you, a challenge. As if delighted by his own idea, he grins a bit wider.

“I’ll make it fair and easy, how ‘bout it? I give you a chance to get away. And if you do, I’ll go home empty handed, hell I’ll even leave all your stuff here and send your horse back to ya.”

“But I catch you; you come home with me. And you won’t be leavin’ me,” you stare at him, unsure and afraid. He’s giving you one shot at freedom. To leave him behind and go back to your mother and father.

“Arthur, can’t you see you’ve already gotten what you wanted?” you protest lightly. The imagery of besting him, the strong and capable Arthur Morgan does call to you but something isn’t right.

“You want things to be fair; I’m makin’ them fair. You keep actin’ like you don’t want this, like you don’t want me. Now’s your chance to prove it,” Each word he says is dipped in his frustration. He isn’t quite satisfied with how things went in your family’s cabin as much as you thought he would be.

“C’mon, angel,” he sighs, he looks excited. His breath comes heavier, faster. His eyes are blown wide, eclipsing his summer blue and prairie green eyes with darkness like the coldest winter. He’s grinning, pressing into you, his hand pinches at the softness of your cheeks. Not enough to hurt you. Only to remind you of his strength, his tenacity.

His hand floats down to your neck, yours comes up to hold his wrist. He looks too excited, happy to chase you, work for you. Show you the lengths he’s willing to go to. At first you’re not too sure why. You prickle; you know something isn’t right but you’re too attracted to the thought of winning his little game.

“Cute little things like you are good at runnin’. I’ll give you a head start,” his hand leaves you and he begins counting. You’re stuck, like your back is glued to the seat of the wagon.

“Two…Three…” you turn like a brush animal, jumping from the wagon and stumbling a bit before you’re running into the woods.

The rest of the numbers ring out eerily in the quiet of the woods before they fade into the background. Your heart jumps into your throat. He’s serious about this. You pant, lungs burning with cold air, fear pushes at your heels. His coat is heavy on your shoulders but you don’t want to die of hypothermia should you toss it in your haste. You gather it up, before sprinting as fast as you can. The sun's orange light is fading fast but you pay it no mind, kicking up your legs to carry you as far away as you can.

The light snow crunches under your feet and you run into the depths of the woods, where animals sense your coming and rush off, knowing a predator is stalking. You look behind you, face screwed up in fear, adrenaline almost makes you stand still. You can’t see him and you didn’t bother to ask how much time he would give you. Arthur isn’t always the giving type but you hope he has a shred of mercy for you. You think perhaps this is the exception.

Like a deer looking up at the smallest sound. You rush off, trying to pace your running. Eventually, your legs tire, your side hurts and your nose and lungs start to ache from the cold dry air flowing through them. You lean against a tree a moment, panting, feeling warm, uncomfortable in the fur of the coat. Your thoughts run dry like a dusty river bed, all you can think of is escaping. Getting away from Arthur.

You keep going for as long as you can but fatigue pulls at the muscles of your legs and thighs. You continue, looking for somewhere to hide at least. It’s quiet, no birds, no animals, no wind to even sway the branches of the trees. All you can hear is your own blood, your own breath. The puff of your gasping into the winter air clouds up before your eyes.

You look out at the trees, black slender trunks that reach far too high for you to climb. All of the brush has decayed for the winter. You see a part of the forest that tilts downwards, perhaps a bit too steep but you don’t have another choice.

You slip down the hill, trying to stay upright. You land in somewhat of a heap, on your behind at the bottom of the hill. There’s a cropping of some rocks and you can find something to hide behind, large enough for you to stay hidden. You cover your mouth, your heart beating under your chest. like you’ve trapped a song bird in your rib cage.

You don’t know what you did to be here. Except perhaps needing help in a vulnerable moment. You kick yourself, you should have just ran down the road back home but in all of your fluster, you ran into the woods, like a scared rabbit. Just to get away. You don’t know what Arthur will do should he find you but you know it won’t be a happy reunion, not a playful meeting like two children playing hide and seek. It will be something else, much more like when a wolf corners a lost animal. A domesticated creature meeting a wild beast of prey.

You wait there for what feels like the longest hours of your life. The sunlight almost disappears, it gets much darker than before, the dusk starts to close in. Especially in the valley of this little hill you hide in. It gets colder as the light fades. Through the quiet, you can hear him, his boots crunch heavily through the snow.

“Y’know, you ain’t any good at covering your tracks,” he steps up to the top of the hill you had gone down. His voice makes your blood run cold, you tense up, as if sensing he’s looking in your direction.

“But I played fair, gave you a little while,” he grunts as he makes his way down the hill. Much less sloppier than you. Your eyes squeeze shut, you clench your hands. You had forgotten all of his hunting trophies, all of the guns he had on display. He set out already knowing he would win. You deliberate bursting from your hiding place or waiting to see if he’ll find you.

In a split second, you’re up on your feet, running in another direction. He’s after you, you’re sure of it, you know you can’t stop. You can feel the desperate noises in your throat. You try to make it as far as you can, but Arthur has his arms, corded in muscle, around your waist. You let out a strangled squeak, as he lifts you off the ground briefly with a scary amount of ease.

“There you are, princess,” he has pride, a self assured happiness. But he isn’t surprised at all. He has you on the ground, even as you struggle against him. “Been lookin for you,” you’re held down in no time at all really, even as you struggle against his grip on you. Arthur is entirely too heavy.

“Settle down, girl, it’s alright,” he’s shushing you. You exhaust yourself, feeling yourself heave and sob in his arms. Why couldn’t he be a bit scrawnier? You wish he were the kind of man who could be easily kicked off but he’s anything but. The adrenaline courses through you, making you jitter but all you can feel is the defeat. Quiet resignation calms you down, letting yourself go in his arms. He’s much too strong for you to put up any real challenge. You should have known he had this in mind, an easy win.

“I got what’s mine. My wife…” He mutters, gloved hands petting your hair. The satisfaction in his voice sends shivers down your spine, the dredges of what feeling you had for him stir, even after his treatment of you and your parents. You wiggle, whining, trying to shake his hand off if you. Your heart beats faster at his words. His wife. You don’t want it to have an effect on you but you can’t help it, wincing in embarrassment. You watch helplessly as he bites his gloves off his hands, clearly intent on feeling every bit of you with nothing between your skin and the heat of his fingertips.

“Deals a deal, sweetheart, ain’t much else to it,” he sighs, a sarcastic disappointment in his voice. His face is so close to yours, he puts some of his weight on you to keep your half hearted thrashing to a minimum. You try to give him all you can in the way of defiance. But you know Arthur. He won’t let you go. This is his commitment to you.

His hips jolt, nudge your thigh provocatively. And you just now realize how his breathing hasn’t slowed down like yours. His eyes are wild, still swallowed in the black of his pupils, a crooked smirk pushes at his lips. You should have known better than to think Arthur would lose this hunt. He was destined to win. And you were always going to be the prey he would catch.

I would like to thank Twistidkiwi over on ao3 for the arthur hunting you idea, it was just... too good 🥹🥹🥹🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ thank you queen!! i hope you guys liked it!! i would just let arthur get my ass after like 3 miinutes of chasing me LOL ohhh nooo you caught me 😳thank you so much for reading and lmk what you think !! until ch 10 😏Series Masterlist

[jrrtrek]

say something true

Fandom: The X-Files Rating: Teen & Up | No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/M | Words: 2 131 | Chapters: 1/1 Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully, Fox Mulder & Dana Scully

Summary:

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Mulder gets stung by a mutant perp's poisonous stinger, but thankfully Scully is there to look after him. Also, she's really pretty.

Tags: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Poisoning, Intoxication, Drugged Mulder, Hand Holding, Hospitals, Flirting, Diners, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, POV Fox Mulder, Pre-Relationship

Here is my @poangpals Secret Santa gift for @muldersmeat! Opening snippet under the cut, head to ao3 for the rest 🥰

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Well, maybe not a good idea, but the thing to do nonetheless. The perp, Oskar Danielsen, needed to be stopped, and no one else was around, and even if they had been, only Mulder truly understood the danger Danielsen posed — so really, he had no choice but to go after him.

But now, as he stumbled into an alarmed-looking Scully, feeling whatever poison had disoriented all Danielsen's victims pulsing through his own veins, he was at least beginning to wonder if it had been a mistake.

"What the hell did he do to you?" 

"'M fine," said Mulder, trying and failing not to slur his words. "I gotta — 'm okay, Scully, lemme — he's getting away!" 

"Mulder," Scully said sternly, not loosening her grip on his arms one bit, "you're in no state to go chasing after anyone right now. The local PD have his description, they know he's dangerous. Right now, you need to sit down."

Something in her tone made him listen, and he was glad to find that she'd already steered him to a chair. He dropped heavily onto it. Scully shouted something out through the door about needing an ambulance, then she was squatting down in front of Mulder and taking his hand between her own. "Can you look at me?" 

He did so. She peered into each of his eyes while taking his pulse; he was quite happy to stare back into hers. It helped distract him from the way the rest of the world seemed to be swirling around him. 

A voice from the doorway called, "The ambulance is on its way."

"Good," said Scully. "You hear that, Mulder?" 

"Yeah."

"You're gonna be just fine. How are you feeling?" 

"Spinny," he said, waving around the pointer finger of his free hand — Scully was still holding the other �� to illustrate his point. "Li'l bit sick maybe. Is the — is the floor moving?" 

"No, the floor is not moving," she said, firm but gentle. "Do you know what happened in there?" 

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

They wooooouuuuld. They so woooooooooouuuuuuuuld and I love that. I did write a short Zombie fic in which it was Hiccup who got bitten and decided to hide it, but I really should write a fic in which it is either one of his Riders who hide it from him instead.

Astrid would hide her bite because she would feel like it's her burden to bear. She would blame herself, think that she got herself bitten, so why should she worry Hiccup when he already has so many things and people to worry about? And the thing is, Hiccup wouldn't notice until someone else (like Stormfly) were to tell him, like in the Buffalord Episode. Because he trusts her to come to him when she needs to and Astrid insists that this is nothing even when she starts to show symptoms.

Fishlegs' motivation would be something similar in that he wouldn't want Hiccup to worry, but he would have a much harder time hiding it. I feel like he would go to Hiccup the easiest.

Snotlout would be somewhat in denial, I think. He wouldn't want to admit to the fact that he got bitten, that he's doomed to die and turn someday very soon. In his case, I feel like he would try to avoid acknowledging his fate as if that will somehow make it not true. He would act overly like himself, which would probably get on everybody else's nerves while Hiccup catches onto the fact that something is going on. Like in the episode Not Lout.

Tuffnut would be genuinely afraid and then hide behind a façade of jokes. He would even joke about being bitten, which would somehow throw the Riders off his scent even further, with Astrid scolding him for joking about something so serious. Ruffnut would be the first to catch on.

Ruffnut would hide it to avoid Astrid's "I told you so"s, while deep down she would actually feel like she would be right. She wouldn't want to worry Hiccup either, no matter how much she wants to go to him for help.

Also love that you have to tag me for a zombie idea today, because I've been getting some work done on the sequel for JaK.

I love that it's canon that the Dragon Riders will hide their injuries from Hiccup. Like, they all admitted to this after Astrid was shot in the leg and didn't want to tell him. Is it because they don't want to trouble him? Is it because they think he would try to take the burden and feel guilt? It's just great.

[evandoodles]

i swear every time i draw caboose he looks different

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The musical episode.

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[mrmeepsmadmind]

i love when ppl draw bumblebee like the happy little creachure he is but also i love when people draw bumblebee like he's had 500 beers in the last 1 hour and still the pain won't even ebb