#(Its what I grew up with and its what I will keep using for as long as I want until Kakudous own self confirms otherwise)

[waitimcomingtoo]

Built A Fire Just To Keep Me Warm

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader enemies to lovers

Synopsis: you and Peter are in the same friend group but never got along. That doesn’t keep him from making sure you never get cold

Masterlist

“Guys, why is it so damn cold in here?” You groaned and rubbed your arms up and down. The thought of sitting in your lecture class for the next hour with your professor with the dullest voice imaginable somehow made you even colder.

“I told you to layer up.” MJ shrugged. “But you never want to listen during layer talk. You know this guy always cracks the AC.”

“I always listen during layer talk.” Ned mumbled and threw his scarf over his shoulder.

You looked at your professor in the front of the room and then up at the vent above you.

“Why though? It’s the middle of December. My arm hairs should not be standing up.” You said and held your arm up for MJ to see.

“Maybe you should wear a jacket.” Peter interjected, making you all look at him.

“What was that?” You asked him. Ned signaled for him to stop talking but Peter had a point to make.

“I was just saying. You know this professor always has the AC on. But you always come to class in thin shirts and then complain that you’re cold.” Peter said. You sat up in your chair so you could fully face Peter and narrowed your eyes at him.

“So?”

“So,” he mimicked your tone, “You know its going to be cold in here. But you still never wear a jacket. Maybe you should put one on next time so you won’t have this problem.”

“And maybe you should mind your business. I wasn’t even talking to you.” You grumbled and slumped down in your chair. Peter watched you rubbing your arms to keep warm and rolled his eyes a little.

“You were talking to the group.” Peter pointed out. “I’m in the group. So it was my business.”

“No, I was talking to MJ.” You stated as your annoyance for him grew.

“You said “guys, why is it so damn cold in here?”. That implies you were asking all of us.” Peter corrected. Ned and MJ exchanged a look as you glared at Peter.

“Okay, but I didn’t say ‘Peter, I’m really cold. Please give me your professional opinion on how to prevent that’. I was just making an observation.”

“But that’s not really an observation though, is it?” Peter asked. “It’s a declarative statement. We were in Linguistics together. I’m surprised you don’t remember that.”

“Oh my God.” You groaned. “Why do you have to be such a know it all?”

“I don’t know. Why do you insist on wearing the flimsiest shirts to class and then complaining that you’re cold?” Peter retorted.

“There’s about to be an active threat in this classroom.” You mumbled under your breath.

“What do you mean?” Ned asked you.

“I mean I’m about to beat Peter up.” You told him.

“Knock it off you two.” MJ warned. “Can you guys go one day without going at each other?”

“Tell Peter that. He started it.” You reminded her.

“I don’t care. I don’t want any bickering at my party tonight.” She said. “It can’t be like Friendsgiving. Because that was giving enemies instead of friends.”

“If you don’t want any fighting then you’ll have to uninvite Peter.” You told her.

“I can’t. He’s the only one with an ID. We need him for the alcohol.” MJ replied.

“I’m right here.” Peter pointed out

“Unfortunately.” You mumbled.

“Speaking of alcohol, I can’t go with him to get it.” Ned cut in. “My Lola has a sixth sense for this kind of thing. If I even look at a bottle of alcohol, she’ll know about it and strike me dead.”

“Then you’re going to have to go with him. I’ll be busy setting up.” MJ told you.

“What?” You whined. “I don’t want to go with him. Why can’t he go alone?”

“Again, right here.” Peter stated and waved his hand.

“Because of the Buddy System.” MJ answered. “Remember when we sent Ned alone to the bodega to get Sun Chips? He almost got kidnapped.”

“The only reason the man didn’t take me was because he thought my choice of chips was disgusting.” Ned whispered.

“That’s valid.” You shrugged. “I wouldn’t kidnap you either.”

“Can you guys just go together this once? For me? For little mixed drink loving old me?” MJ pleaded and held your hand to her heart.

“Fine.” You sighed and rubbed your hands up and down your arms. Peter watched you doing this and then looked up at the vent above you.

“Don’t act so excited about it.” Peter mumbled to you.

“I’m not.” You scoffed and gave him a look.

“I was being sarcastic.”

“So was I.” You said as Peter got up out of his seat.

“Where are you going?” You asked him.

“To pee. Is that allowed?” He sassed you.

“Go piss girl.” Ned called after Peter as he walked down the steps of the lecture room, earning many stares from other classmates.

“Ned, no.” MJ whispered. “That’s not relevant anymore.”

“Oh shit. Um, mama a hawk tuah diva behind you?” Ned asked to try and fix his mistake.

“Just stop while you’re ahead.” MJ replied with a pat on his knee. She then turned to you with a devious smile.

“Peter totally likes you.” She whispered.

“What?” You laughed. “No he doesn’t. We’re barely even friends. I only tolerate him since he’s friends with Ned. And I mess with Ned heavy.”

Just then, Peter came back from the bathroom and stopped at the professors desk. You watched them curiously but you couldn’t hear what they were saying. When Peter walked away from the desk, your professor went over to the thermostat and turned the AC off. You felt the vent above you stop spewing cold air just as Peter came back to where you were all sitting. He didn’t look at you but his cheeks were pink as he sat down. MJ and Ned hadn’t noticed what happened so you leaned over to him to whisper.

“Why did you do that?” You asked him.

“You said you were cold.” He shrugged, still without looking at you.

“So? Why do you care if I’m cold?”

“I don’t. I was cold too. Not everything’s about you.” He said quickly. You decided to drop it but you found the interaction strange.

Later that day, you and Peter kept a distance between you as you walked towards the nearest corner store. You had your arms folded to keep your hands warm and Peter was fighting the urge to comment on your lack of preparation for the cold.

“Do you have the list?” You asked Peter as you neared the store.

“I do. But it just says “alcohol” so we’re going in blind.” He answered. You couldn’t help but laugh at MJ’s lack of instructions as you rubbed your arms up and down. Peter noticed this and was about to offer his jacket when you reached the store. Instead, he held the door for you and you smiled in surprise.

“Thanks. Let’s just get what we need and get out of here.” You said, feeling awkward now as you walked past him into the store. You were never really alone with him so you weren’t expecting him to be so civil. You split up and went down each isle to collect a few token party items. As you browsed, you kept feeling Peter’s eyes on you but you never looked up to check.

“They don’t have MJ’s favorite vodka here. She’s gonna kill us if we don’t come back with it.” Peter came up to you to tell you.

“Damn. We could try the store two blocks down. They usually have it.”

“All right. Let’s go.” Peter said and nodded towards the door. As you started to walk to the next store, the frigid New York air hit you and sent a chill through your entire body. You shuddered and blew hot air on your hands before holding your arms to keep warm.

“Are you cold?” Peter asked you.

“Of course I’m cold. It’s brick out here.”

“How come you never wear a jacket if you’re always cold?” He asked. He didn’t sound accusatory, just curious.

“Because I thought we were just running to the store by the dorms. I didn’t think I’d need one.” You replied. Peter fought every instinct in his body that told him to stay silent and unzipped his jacket.

“Take mine.” He offered and held it out to you.

“What?” You laughed in surprise. “No way.”

“Come on. Don’t be stubborn. You’re freezing. Just take it.”

“I’m not taking your jacket. I’m fine.” You insisted and continued to shiver.

“Just take the damn jacket.” He sighed and put it over your shoulders. You wanted to be stubborn, but you more so wanted to be warm. You gave him a look and slipped your arms into his jacket. You instantly felt better and smiled a little at your new protection from the cold. Peters jacket hung a little big on you but kept you perfectly warm.

“Thank you.” You said timidly. “But aren’t you cold?”

“Nah.” He waved his hand. “I run hot.”

You had reached the next store by that point and he opened the door for you once again. You flashed him a quick smile and went inside to get the drinks for MJ. You found it quickly and joined him at the cash register.

You hugged Peter’s jacket tightly around you as you walked back to the dorms together. He felt better now that he wasn’t watching you freeze to death and you felt better now that you were safe from the bitter wind. You dropped Peter off at the boys dorm before going back to yours and MJs room. As soon as you walked in, you were hit with a familiar scent that made you suspicious. You looked around the dorm until you found what you were looking for.

“Oh, hey. You’re back.” MJ smiled when she found you.

“What’s this?” You asked and pointed to the mistletoe taped to the ceiling of the kitchen.

“Nothing.” MJ said quickly. “It’s basil.”

“You have basil taped to the ceiling?” You asked skeptically.

“I’m Italian.” She shrugged.

“No you’re not. I’ve eaten pasta you’ve made. It was like chewing a pen cap. There’s no Italian in that blood.”

“You got me. It’s mistletoe.” She admitted. “Arranged beautifully due to my floral arrangement class, may I add. I hung it incase you wanted to kiss any boys tonight.”

“I knew it. You’re still trying to set me up with Peter. It’s never going to work so give up now. Now matter how much basil you hang up.” You said and snatched the mistletoe down.

“You fight it but my lesbian instincts tell me that you guys are meant to be.” MJ said and held her hands up in defense. “And you better hang that back up because that was my only bushel of mistletoe.”

“The same lesbian instincts that made us get on that bus to Long Island? I can never un-go to Long Island, MJ. You did that to us.”

“It was dark. All the buses looked the same.” She defended herself. “But trust. My instincts are right about this one.”

“They’re not.” You stated. “I don’t like Peter like that. I don’t even like him as a friend.”

“Okay. Sure. I believe you. Nice jacket, by the way.” She smirked before walking away. You looked down and remembered you were wearing Peter’s beat up winter jacket. You quickly followed her into the kitchen area to continue the conversation.

“That doesn’t mean anything. I was cold.”

“Yeah. I bet he was too. Especially after he gave you his jacket.” She said smugly.

“He said he runs hot.” You insisted.

“Yeah. Hot for you. Ayo.” She grinned and held up her hand for a high five.

“That’s not getting a high five.” You said flatly. “There better not be any more surprises. Don’t try to intervene tonight, okay? Peter and I would never work.”

“I thought you said you and Peter would never happen. Now you’re saying it just wouldn’t work? Sounds like someone’s having a change of heart.” MJ clicked her tongue as she finished setting up for the party.

You rolled your eyes at her and didn’t respond as you helped her put out snacks. While setting a bowl of chips out on the table, you caught a whiff of Peter’s cologne coming off the jacket. You instinctively smiled at the scent before you caught yourself. You had never thought about it before, but now that MJ put the idea in your head, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was a deeper reason that you and Peter never got along.

An hour later, the party was in full swing. You made your rounds and greeted people as you filled their cups up some more. You would never admit it, but you were a little disappointed to not see Peter in the crowd yet. MJ noticed you searching the room every so often and took a place by your side.

“Looking for Peter?” She asked with a smug expression.

“What? No. Like I care if that doink shows up. I’m looking for Ned. He’s supposed to bring the…. Sun Chips.” You lied to cover up what you were really doing.

“Right, right. Of course. And how do you feel about Sun Chips?” She asked sarcastically.

“I need some air.” You said quickly and walked away from her. To get away from the crowd, you went out to your room and crawled out the window to sit on the roof. You hugged Peter’s jacket tightly around yourself and stared up at the night sky. The sound of the party coming through your open window sounded a million miles away. You drew your knees to your chest and rested your chin on them as the cold wind sent a chill through your body.

“Hey.” You heard behind you, making you turn around. You saw Peter coming through your bedroom window and come join you on the roof. You got a new feeling in your chest as he sat beside you.

“Hey.” You smiled softly at him. He returned the smile before an awkward silence settled between the two of you. You didn’t know how to interact after he was nice to you on your trip to the store.

“Thanks for walking through my bedroom with your dirty converse on.” You said to break the silence.

“Like my shoes were the dirtiest thing in that room. I’m pretty sure I saw a rat eating your homework.” He mumbled. You stared at each other as you both tried to read the situation. You were bickering like usual, but there was a playful sense to it this time.

“That’s just our third roommate, dummy.” You replied, adding to the teasing nature of the conversation.

“Ah, I see.” Peter chuckled before looking down shyly. The awkward silence returned but you found yourself hoping he didn’t leave.

“How come you’re out here? You’re not having fun?” He asked after a beat.

“It got a little overwhelming in there. I needed some alone time.”

“Oh, I could go.” He offered and went to stand up.

“You could stay.” You said and stopped him from getting up by placing your hand over his. You watched Peter turn bright red so you quickly withdrew your hand. It was quiet again and you both looked anywhere but each other.

“How come you’re not in there with Ned and all them? Didn’t you just get here?” You asked to break the silence.

“Oh, yeah. Ned and I just got here. But I walked by your room and I saw the window open. I was going to close it until I saw you out here.” He answered a little too quickly.

“Why were you by my room? The party is in the kitchen area.” You wondered. Peter was flushed again and a smile tugged at your lips.

“Were you looking for me?” You asked in a quiet voice. Before Peter could deny the allegations, a gust of wind hit the two of you. You shivered and rubbed your hands together to stay warm.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked you.

“You know what’s wrong.” You said with a slight roll of your eyes. Instead of pointing out that you were purposefully outside on the chilly roof, Peter took both your hands in his. You watched him curiously as he rubbed his hands up and down yours to generate heat. It occurred to you both at the exact same time that this was the first time you’d ever touched. You locked eyes with him and thought he’d let go, but he instead leaned down to blow some hot air on your hands to warm you up.

“Thanks.” You said softly. “That feels better.”

“You’re welcome.” He said in just as timid of a voice. The awkwardness returned and you turned away from each other to avoid it.

“I’m sorry about before. In class, I mean. It was none of my business. You can wear whatever you want.” Peter said after a minute.

“It’s fine.” You waved your hand. “Maybe you kinda sorta possibly had a point. I knew it would be cold. I should’ve worn a jacket. Besides, we always go at each other like that. Don’t be sorry.”

“You’re right. We do always fight.” He agreed. “Do you ever wonder why?”

“Oh, um. I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I assumed that’s just how we are.”

“Yeah, it is.” He nodded. “But how did it start? Did we just meet one day and decide we hated each other? I was trying to think about it the other day but I couldn’t remember.”

“Well, I remember MJ telling me she made a friend in her floral arrangement class. Which I told her not to take, by the way.”

“I told Ned the same thing.” Peter sighed. “I said it was a waste of time and credits. He didn’t listen. But he did make me a beautiful bouquet for my birthday.”

“MJ failed so she got me a gift card to Staples.” You replied, making Peter laugh.

“Why Staples?”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure she found it on the ground.”

“Did you ever use it?” He asked.

“I did. And guess what I got.”

“Staples?”

“Yep.” You nodded, making him laugh again. You never realized it before, but Peter had the kind of laugh that made you want to say the most random things just to hear it again. His eyes crinkled when he laughed or smiled, another thing you hadn’t noticed before.

“I remember Ned introducing me to MJ, and then MJ introduced me to you. But I don’t remember how our dynamic started and why we fight all the time.”

“Hm.” You hummed. “It’s funny.”

“What is?” He wondered.

“The one time we’re alone together is the one time we’re not fighting.” You pointed out.

“You’re right.” He smiled shyly. “Funny.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward this time. You felt like you were talking to a completely different person than who Peter usually was. This version of Peter didn’t get under your skin or make you roll your eyes. This version was sweet and warmed you up from the cold.

“You kept my jacket.” Peter pointed out, making you flush in embarrassment.

“Oh, you can have it back.” You said and went to take it off.

“No, no. It’s okay. I want you to keep it.” He insisted and pulled it back around you. For extra measure, he zipped it up to your chin before patted both your arms. You smiled at the action and tilted your head down so the jacket would cover your chin.

“It looks better on you anyway.” He added without looking at you. You picked your head up and looked at him but he was busy fussing with the her of his shirt.

“Thanks. It’s really warm.” You said in a soft voice.

“Good. You need it. You’re always cold. And never prepared.”

“We can’t all be hot.” You replied. “Run hot, I mean.”

“Did you just call me hot?” Peter asked with a devious smile.

“Shut up.” You groaned. “You know what I meant.”

“I wish I had your problems. My hands are always sweating because I’m always so hot.” Peter said as he looked at his hands.

“Gross.” You grimaced. “Keep that to yourself.”

Peter looked sad as he didn’t realize you were joking. You found yourself feeling bad that you hurt his feelings despite all the times you intentionally tried to hurt them.

“I was just kidding. Let me feel.” You quickly assured him and took his hand. You ran your fingertips along his palm to see what he was talking about while Peter stayed perfectly still. You let out a soft laugh which sent chills up Peter’s spine.

“What do you think?” He asked in a quiet voice.

“It’s like touching a Swedish fish that’s been in a toddlers hand for too long.” You replied, making him laugh as well.

“Thank you. That was a really lovely description.”

“Seriously, how do you walk around with these things? Do girls ever complain when you hold hands?” You wondered as you slipped your hand into his. He instinctively rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand as the comfortable silence returned. You stayed like that for a moment, holding each others hand on the cold rooftop. The only warmth Peter had was from your hand so he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

“Aha! Holding hands!” MJ suddenly exclaimed from behind you. And was standing in your room and pouting at you through your open window. You turned around and quickly dropped Peter’s hand.

“What? No we’re not.” You scoffed and stood up. Peter felt an overwhelming wave of disappointment wash over him as you left the roof to follow MJ. It hurt him that you were so quick to drop his hand and deny what was happening, and even quicker to leave him.

“Lesbian instincts.” MJ said as she tapped the side of her head.

“Shut up. We weren’t holding hands.” You insisted as you led her back towards the party.

“I may be a little drunk right now but I know what I saw.” She stated. “And you can’t deny something I saw with my own two eyes.”

“What did she see?” Ned asked as he came to your side.

“Nothing.” You said quickly. “She didn’t see anything.”

“Nothing except her and Peter practically having full on intercourse out on the roof.” MJ replied, making Ned gasp.

“Oh my God.” You groaned. “We were not doing that. We were just holding hands.”

“So you admit it!” She clapped her hands at the confession and nearly fell over.

“Girl, how are you so drunk already?” You asked her. “The party only started an hour ago.”

“Not the point.” MJ held up a hand. “Why were you and Peter holding hands? I thought you hated each other?”

“Peter doesn’t hate her.” Ned laughed like it was ridiculous. You were about to question what made him sound so sure when you realized you had left Peter out on the roof. You left MJ and Ned behind and quickly ran back to your room. The window was shut but Peter was nowhere to be found. Guilt building up in your stomach now, you went back out to the party and searched the crowd for him. When you didn’t see him anywhere, you went back to the kitchen to find Ned.

“Did Peter come in here? I can’t find him.” You asked him.

“You just missed him.” Ned answered. “He said he wasn’t feeling well so we wasn’t going to head back to our dorm.”

“He left?” You asked sadly. You looked at your front door before looking at MJ for help. She tapped the side of your head again and you knew what you had to do.

You ran out to the hall but didn’t see Peter anywhere. The hum of the elevator gave you an idea where he might be. You got to the elevator just in time to see the doors closing. Without thinking, you wedged yourself in between them to get them to open back up. They bounced off either side of your body but opened up enough for you to get inside. Peter caught you as you stumbled in and helped you stand up straight.

“Oh my God. Are you okay?” He asked as you held your aching body.

“I think I just went down a cup size.” You wheezed out.

“Why didn’t you just tell me to hold the door?” Peter asked through a laugh.

“There was no time.” You waved your hand. “I had to talk to you. You’re leaving?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m not much for parties.” He lied.

“Neither am I.” You told him as you stared into his eyes. He stared back and you could see a sadness in them that you knew was probably your fault.

“Before you go, I just wanted to apologize for before. I shouldn’t have run out on you like that.”

“It’s okay.” He shrugged. “We did look pretty incriminating.”

“We did.” You agreed. “And MJ was thrilled to see it. She has this dumb idea that we only pretend to hate each other to cover up the fact that we like each other.”

“She thinks that? Wow. That’s quite a theory.” Peter said as a blush painted his face a warm pink.

“Right? I don’t know where she gets it.” You shook your head and slid down the wall of the elevator. Peter decided to see the situation out and sat down beside you. Neither of you had pressed any buttons so the elevator stayed in place.

“Ned has a similar theory, actually.” Peter told you. “He thinks I’m totally in love with you and I don’t know how to express it outside of teasing you or making sure you’re warm.”

The silence that followed Peter’s statement was almost more incriminating than the hand holding. In your head, you replayed every time he had done something to keep you warm. Just the week before, Peter had wordlessly dropped a blanket beside you during a movie night at his dorm. Another time, he insisted you drank the tea he brought to class because he decided he didn’t like it anymore but didn’t want it to go to waste.

“Also quite a theory.” You said to break the silence. “But wait, if you run hot, how come your dorm has been perfectly toasty everytime MJ and I came over this winter?”

“It’s not usually like that.” He admitted. “But I take out the space heater when you and MJ come over because I know you get cold easily.”

“Oh. Well thank you.”

“For the teasing?”

“For keeping me warm.” You corrected. Peter flushed again and looked down at his lap.

“It’s all right. Winter will be over in a month. You won’t need me to keep you warm anymore. Then we’ll go back to being enemies.” He said without looking at you. You could hear a sadness in his voice and moved a little closer to him.

“You’re not my enemy. I just never really liked you.” You admitted.

“Yeah. I had a feeling. But how come?” He asked with genuine curiosity.

“Well, because I got the feeling that you never really like me either.” You shrugged. “Once our friend groups merged, you and I were just kinda there. We never really gelled like Ned and I or you and MJ.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” He agreed. “The only times we would talk to each other is when we were fighting or something. That’s the only reason I kept teasing you.”

“Because you wanted to talk to me?” You smiled teasingly. Peter didn’t smile back and just stared into your eyes.

“I didn’t know how to talk to you.” He said quietly. “I never wanted us to fight. But if we didn’t, then we would never talk. And I really, really wanted to talk to you.”

The way you had felt about Peter just that morning had completely changed for the better. You were now hanging on his every word and desperate to hear what he had to say next. You turned a little to face him better and tilted your head to the side.

“What did you want to say?” You asked him. Peter’s eyes darted around your face and eventually landed on your lips.

“That I think you’re really cool. And really pretty. And really smart. Even though you never wear a-“

“Don’t say it.” You cut him off by leaning in the rest of the way and kissing him. Peter turned his body so that he could slip a hand in your hair to kiss you back. He took the chill right out of your bones as he kissed you as if he’d been waiting his entire like to do so. You pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt and kissed him until you ran out of breath. He had a dreamy smile on his face when you pulled away. You smiled shyly and sat back down on the elevator floor. Peter started to sniff the air suddenly and looked around.

“Do you smell basil?” He asked. Your smile dropped and you looked up to find the source of the smell. Sure enough, taped to the ceiling of the elevator was a makeshift mistletoe MJ had crafted out of basil and ribbon.

“Freaking lesbian instincts.” You muttered and stood up to snatch the basil down.

Tag list 🏷️ 🧥

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @itsemohours

@tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@hallecarey1

@ciarahollands

@nellabella @boogywoogywoogy

[nebulousmoon3990]

GHOSTS OF THE PAST (Batfam x neglected hero reader)

𓂃› CHRISTMAS SPECIAL

Warning: spelling mistakes (English is not my first language) and the reader has black hair and blue eyes (sorry), fem reader! I accept criticism, everything is fiction!

The lights in New York shone in the middle of the winter night, the snow, fluffy and white, fell slowly due to the cold wind that adorned the city. The moon shone with a subtle glow, illuminating the buildings and streets, on these same streets people were still walking in large numbers, different from normal, the end of the year night made everyone run to buy gifts and prepare for the celebration.

Amidst the vastness of buildings, a solitary figure was hanging from the building. Sitting on her knees, she watched the movement on the avenues.

You had the mask over your face, the penetrating cold on your body made you shiver sometimes, not that you cared about the cold.

But even if you didn't care about the cold or if it caused you discomfort, you knew the limits that the human body could withstand (although you are technically not 'human'), so you had the decency to wear a jacket and raise the hood.

Watching the city and lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed the wind beside you change, but of course your danger sensor never fails, so you knew when he was next to you.

"I thought you'd already left." You heard Conner sigh in defeat, almost laughing at your reaction, almost.

"Nah, I thought I'd keep my favorite spider friend company." He floated next to you, leaning proudly towards you. Before, the constant presence of supers irritated you, but you learned to get used to them, even liking them sometimes.

"Well, you're wasting your time, I'll finish patrol early today." You peeled your hands off the wall, making you stand leaning over the building. Conner's eyes widened, flying closer to you. "W-wait, seriously?!"

Oh, bad choice.

"What, so you actually have a life outside of heroin work?" You rolled your eyes as you walked down the building. You weren't lying, although you would rather finish your patrol, you needed to go to a store. Alex is preparing a night of sweets and homemade food for Christmas, she asked you to pick up some ingredients for her.

"Who would have thought, and here I thought the little spider lived alone and lonely" Conner drastically put his hand on his chest and made a cheap show of you, trying to tease you.

"Ha ha, very funny little super, but since I live alone and lonely, I'll leave now." You launched the web over another building and swung upwards, stopping on a rooftop. You were about to run again when Conner's voice reached you. "Wait, spider!"

You turned to find Conner in front of you, he seemed to want to say something, but gave up. He rubbed his neck, looking away. "I was hoping to convince you to go home but it looks like I'll have to settle for this…"

You turned to him, confused, the snow falling between the two of you. "Settle for what–" Your eyes widened as Conner handed you a gift box, it was wrapped in cupcakes.

You looked at Conner, who was smiling shyly at you. "Merry Christmas Spider-Woman."

Oh

Oh.

You took the gift hesitantly, your red face (thank God) hidden under the mask, you took the box, contouring its folds, when you gathered the courage to speak again. "Thank you Conner, I really appreciate it."

Conner's smile grew bigger than it could, the bright gold smile that lit up any darkness. "No problem, next Christmas I'll convince you to spend it with us."

"Maybe, who knows?"

Conner was surprised again, but this time you didn't let him speak. You activated your camouflage, jumping away from the place, heading home.

But as you jumped between the buildings, a smile appeared on your face.

You were happy, we won't lie.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE 💞

@daiyanomochi - @amber-content - @wizzerreblogs - @foggyv-oid - @kore-of-the-underworld - @theunknowntravel3r - @space1crow - @shortnsweetsposts - @popursocks - @sugasweettea - @salfishers - @itachisank - @jsprien213 - @infirebaby - @yhin-gg -@h-ib @bunbunboysworld - @h-ib - @sheep-from-rad - @tatsuri-zomushiki - @the-holy-pigeon - @geminis93 - @horror-lover-69 - @mybones537 - @eyeless-kun - @timotheechalametswifeys - @justabreadslice - @nymphzy0 - @1-800-g00ber - @pix-stuff - @jsprien213

Bye 𖹭

[httpvomitello]

hopefully i’m doin’ this right;;

may i perhaps have daemon targaryen x autistic female reader (whom is very physically affectionate and occasionally clingy) with a song inspiration of: the “JUMPIN’ OVER!” cover by Amiaryllis?

Hello, hello! Thanks for the request, hope you like it ♡

The Rogue Prince and His Wildflower *⁠.⁠✧

daemon targaryen x f!reader

The halls of the Red Keep were alive with whispers, the servants and lords alike speculating about the strange girl who had caught Daemon Targaryen’s attention. You weren’t like the other ladies of the court, with their polished manners and sharp tongues. You spoke plainly, sometimes too much, sometimes too little. You often avoided the endless formalities, finding solace in small, familiar routines.

But it was your touch—your constant, gentle touch—that seemed to mystify and disarm the Rogue Prince.

You were seated in the gardens of the Red Keep, your fingers trailing through the soft petals of a row of wildflowers. Most would have seen nothing remarkable about the scene, but Daemon, ever observant, noticed the way your lips moved silently, as if speaking to the flowers themselves.

“What secrets do they tell you?” he had asked, his voice smooth and teasing.

You startled slightly but didn’t retreat. Instead, you looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. “They don’t tell secrets. They just… feel nice. Gentle.”

Daemon smirked, intrigued. “Gentle, hmm? As if the world were not a well of kindness.”

Your connection grew quickly, though not without its challenges. You had your routines and rhythms, and Daemon—ever impatient—sometimes found them frustrating.

“Why must you count the steps to the door every time?” he asked one evening as you paced the length of his chambers.

“It helps me think,” you replied simply, pausing to glance at him. “And it feels good. Like… jumping over waves.”

Daemon tilted his head, considering your answer. He didn’t always understand your ways, but he respected them, even if they puzzled him.

“What if I carried you to the door instead?” he teased, striding toward you with a playful grin.

You didn’t resist when he scooped you up, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re warm,” you murmured, leaning into him.

“And you’re clingy,” he replied, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

“I like being close,” you admitted. “It makes me feel safe.”

For all his bravado and sharp edges, Daemon found he couldn’t deny you. “Then stay close, wildflower,” he murmured, holding you tighter.

Daemon learned quickly that you expressed love differently from most. Where others used words or gifts, you used touch. You often reached for his hand, brushing your fingers against his when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. You leaned into him during council meetings, your head resting lightly on his shoulder.

One night, after a particularly grueling day, Daemon returned to his chambers to find you waiting for him. You didn’t say a word, simply pulling him down to sit beside you. Your hands moved to his shoulders, massaging the tension away with surprising skill.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice carrying none of its usual sarcasm.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You looked like you needed it.”

Not everyone in court was kind to you. Whispers followed you wherever you went, and there were those who mocked your inability to navigate the subtleties of court life.

Daemon, however, was quick to silence any slight against you. When one particularly cruel lord made a jest at your expense during a feast, Daemon had slammed his goblet down, the sound echoing through the hall.

“Say another word,” he warned, his voice low and deadly, “and you’ll find yourself feeding Caraxes instead of your hounds.”

Even though the lord did not comment on it further, his body was found near Caraxes the next morning.

From then on, the court learned to hold their tongues.

Later that night, as you curled into Daemon’s side, you whispered, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “No one speaks ill of what is mine.”

There were moments of pure joy between the two of you, moments where the world and its expectations seemed to fall away.

One day, as a storm raged outside, you pulled Daemon toward the balcony, your eyes alight with excitement. “Come on!” you urged, your hand tight around his.

“You’re mad,” he said, though he didn’t resist.

The rain soaked you both as you danced across the slick stones, laughing and spinning as if the storm were your own private song. Daemon watched you, his heart swelling at the sight of your unrestrained happiness.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, pulling you close.

“And you’re wet,” you teased, laughing as you wiped rain from his face.

Daemon’s grin was wicked as he wrapped his arms around you, spinning you once more before pressing his lips to yours.

[pinkaditty]

Holidays with Ghouls (Sho Haizono x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

please read:

okay. big news + life update: i got into a major car accident a little while ago. my first one ever! i am in a lot of pain so things may be slow-going for a while and ill be unable to commit as much time to writing due to the tangled mess that is dealing with modern insurance companies and recovering from my injuries. thankfully its not so bad to be hospitalized, but its bad enough to limit my activity for the time being. i am somewhat ashamed to ask, but if you like my writing, please consider donating to my cashapp: $cindyfromstarbucks! my car was 100% totaled, and im gonna need to save up for a new one, and my job doesn’t pay very much. thank you for your consideration! please enjoy, regardless! (this paragraph will be on my posts indefinitely, probably until i fully recover)

a/n: LET ME START THIS OFF BY SAYING IT’S ENTIRELY SELF-INDULGENT… i have a green thumb and i’ve been growing a small garden lately (limited space. i hate captialism.) and i just thought “hm. what if we grew fresh ingredients for sho’s food truck?” and the idea stuck and didn’t leave no matter how much i tried 2 shake it off. mc is basically written as me im not gonna hold y’all, but i kept it 2 a minimum so it could still be an ‘x reader’. 

summary: self-indulgent reader x sho. in which you do something nice for him and he struggles to return the favor. 

no cw! enjoy!

big fan of the “woman that is so wound up all the time and extremely professional and tries to keep everyone at arm’s length distance” x “guy that is only a few years younger than the woman but loves calling her by age-appropriate honorifics (i.e. noona, ojou, jiejie, madame, etc) and goes out of his way to teach her how to fucking relax every once in a while” trope and essentially if i were with sho that is how the relationship would go LMFAOOOOOOO

You used to have a bit of a garden before becoming a student at Darkwick. A part of you often wondered if there were people tending to your garden now so you could return to it, well kept and exactly as you remember it, when you were cured of this curse and got this anomalous ring off of you. You'd never really had the idea to plant anything here; you were much too focused on missions and other incessant errands the ghouls saw fit to send you on. You didn't like it, but held your tongue regardless. If all went well, you wouldn't have to deal with this after less than a year. 

You were fond of a few ghouls, though. Some of them were a nice reprieve from the other harsher and more selfish ghouls. Haku was a great example of that, and so was Subaru, his dorm's captain. You'd grown fond on the Jabberwock ghouls, as they were always kind and polite. You didn't really mind the Obscuary ghouls, either. Even if odd, they were good natured, and never turned you away. You appreciated that Rui had a bit of a green thumb too, and would often stop by to assist him with plant care. 

The one ghoul you were the most fond of, despite his less than agreeable best friend, was Haizono, or Sho, as he insisted on being called. Sho, despite his friend Leo, was actually pretty friendly. You enjoyed the time you spent around him, whether that was collecting supplies from the diner, or training with him, or even helping him meal prep for the following day for his food truck. It was fun, spending time with Sho. You're almost angry the idea didn't dawn on you sooner.

Said idea is why you carefully sift through the dirt in your compost container, careful not to split any of the worms with your nails. The potatoes should be done growing by now. The idea had dawned on you one day when Sho mentioned not having enough potatoes to serve fries the following day. Potatoes were an easy crop. And they took three months, at most, to grow. Sure, if worse came to worst, you'd die, but growing potatoes was a good distraction and encouraged you to plan for the future, as though you wouldn't die. After a few favors from Benji and some begging towards the chancellor, you had a small garden behind the chapel. Granted, you'd just started it three months ago, so it wasn't as full as your garden back home, but it was good enough. It was hidden from the rest of campus by the surrounding trees, ensuring no one would find the garden unless they had reason to cut around the chapel, which wasn't necessary considering the path out front. Not only did it serve as your little place of respite, it allowed you to do nice things for others. You were just growing potatoes for now, but it felt like enough of a starter, at least. You’d just planted some tomato seeds that you’d hoped Sho would also find a use for. 

Once done harvesting a substantial batch of potatoes, you wrap them up in plastic bags to look like you bought them. It would save you the embarrassment of having to explain that you’d grown them yourself. 

It’s pleasantly chilly outside, the still afternoon air heavy with promises of cold weather and a white winter holiday. Dirt remained underneath your fingernails from all that harvesting, but it was a small price to pay. Your heart pounded with anticipation and exertion as you made the trek to Vagastrom, heading for the nearby food truck. As expected, you find Sho sitting on one of his supply boxes, far underdressed for the cold weather. You can’t tell if he’s resistant to it or rebelling against it, but you can tell he’s cold. His cheeks and nose are tinged red and his eyes are squinted against the cold wind. You can even tell he’s sniffling with how often he inhales. You exhale both fondly and exasperatedly. The stubbornness of these ghouls was simultaneously attractive and irritating. 

You make it no secret you’re approaching, the bag of potatoes crinkling with your upbeat steps and your own runny nose sniffling in response to the cold wind. You place the bag of potatoes beside him with a heavy ‘thud’, to which he finally looks up, appearing jolted out of his thoughts. 

“Here,” you start, taking your scarf from around your neck and tying it around his without waiting for a reaction. “You must be an idiot to sit out in the cold with just your uniform on.”

“Senpai.” He greets you with wide eyes, watching but not protesting as you tie your scarf around his neck. He appears confused at first, his lips pursing at your actions, but seems to relent as he buries his face into the scarf. You watch as he settles into it, his eyes sliding shut against the cold wind, his nose and lips finding warm solace in the comfort of your scarf. Before long, he pulls it away, revealing himself back to the chilly air with a slight wince. “...No need. Thank you, though.” He glances up at you with a smile before rising to his feet and dusting off his knees. “Whatcha got here?” He gestures to the plastic bag before picking it up, far more effortlessly than you, and inspecting it. 

“Potatoes.” Your breath puffs out in a white cloud. “They’re for your food truck. I remembered you mentioned you were running low, so… I decided to help and buy you some.” At some point, you’d shifted your attention to the ground, toeing at a rock as you realized how ridiculous that sounded. Surely Sho could handle himself. He might even find your help embarrassing, when you really think about it. 

You sneak a glance at him and are relieved to see a small smile on his face as he observes the potatoes. He huffs out a light breath, his face visibly softening. “You didn’t have to do that.” He slings the bag over his shoulder, using his other hand to ruffle your hair and return the scarf. “Come on,” he turns around, headed for the door of the food truck. “You can help me prep.”

‘That’s only helpful if you’ll have any customers in this cold,’ you think to yourself, but decide not to say aloud. Instead, you watch the slow smile on his face as he nods towards you, and continues towards the truck. Crazy, how a simple glance of his could make your heart race. Something about the warmth of his smile, the feel of his fingers carding through your hair, and the leftover scent of his cologne lingering on your scarf tugged at your heart, just a little bit. 

You briskly follow after him, throwing the scarf back over his neck. “Keep it,” you say sternly, watching as he turns to you quizzically. “Have you seen the state of yourself in this cold?” The phrase ‘I want you to have it,’ lingers on your tongue, but you decide not to voice that, instead letting a small amused smile rest on your face. You vaguely gesture to him, your gaze flicking to his red cheeks and nose. He rolls his eyes, noting your point, and keeps the scarf around his neck, opening the side door to his food truck.

“Alright, fine. I’ll wash it and return it.”

As he steps inside the food truck, even from standing behind him you feel a wave of warmth. You follow, stepping inside, feeling the sweet relief of pleasant warm air and smelling the scent of roast chicken. The environment is warm and cozy, wrapping around you like a cushy blanket or a hug from a loved one. Sho closes the door behind you and you note your scarf is still around his neck. Something clicks.

“Wait a minute. You won’t need that.” You point to his scarf, your nose crinkling in mock displeasure. He instinctively flinches away, looking at you with a raised brow. He was seemingly already protective of your scarf, even though he’d only just received it. “Hand it over.”

“That’s hardly fair.” A crooked smile forms on Sho’s face and his brow raises higher. “Why do you assume I won’t need it?”

Indignantly, you gesture to the warm space surrounding you. Sizzling meat, a warm oven, and heaters in a corner, adjusting the temperature of the truck. “Vagastrom is literally right next to here. What do you need that for?”

He doesn’t answer directly, instead tilting his head at you. “I seem to remember a certain someone insisting I keep this scarf. Are you going to go back on your word?”

You clamp your mouth shut, remembering what you’d said and did earlier. He was right, you had insisted, even if only a little. You huff out a frustrated breath, crossing your arms and furrowing your brows. He laughs at your display, pulling the scarf off of him and tossing it on a high shelf of boxes you couldn’t reach. “Like I said, I’ll wash it and return it.”

You decide to swallow this loss. You had other scarves at the chapel anyway, and if he was going to use it, at least it wasn’t going to waste. 

You look around the space again before taking off your coat and hanging it on one of the hooks on the door. “Any plans for winter break? Will you be going anywhere?” 

“Nah.” Sho shook his head, checking on the chicken in the small oven before continuing to stir fry a vegetable medley on the stove, jutting his shoulder out towards the cutting board, covered in various vegetables. You wash your hands before heading over, carefully scraping at the dirt built up under your fingernails from digging. “Unless my… brother… goes, I’m not going. He’ll beat my ass if I don’t and he does.” A look of displeasure crosses Sho’s face, and you have to hold back a laugh at the thought of Professor Hyde chastising Sho for not seeing his family over break. 

You head over to the vegetables laid out on the cutting board, and start with the garlic, peeling it out of its husk. “Sounds like a struggle.”

He scoffs, pouring soy sauce over the vegetables and tossing them before scraping them off on a nearby to-go container. “Holidays are always a struggle with pushy family.” Despite his outward scowl, amusement lights up his eyes for a moment. 

You chuckle, having finished chopping up the garlic and moving to a green bell pepper. You slice it open, its seeds spilling onto the cutting board. “Your family’s pushy?”

“Yes, too pushy sometimes.” Sho shakes his head, shooing you to the side as he grabs potholders to pull the chicken out of the oven. “My brother’s more like my parents than I am.” He carefully places the roast chicken down on a short counter. It’s golden brown, stuffed with rosemary sprigs, lemon slices, and garlic cloves. 

He places it to the side, readying the frying pain and reaching for the peppers you’d chopped, tossing them into the oil. You finish a pepper and reach for a leek next, slicing it into thick chunks. Your eyes flicker back over to the chicken momentarily, rosemary stems sticking out of it like a tail. “The rosemary stems look like a chicken tail.” You voice the thought absentmindedly, smiling to yourself. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sho glance over at the chicken himself. You hear a huffed laugh as he returns his attention to the peppers, sizzling in the oil. “Yeah, it does.” He’s silent for a moment before speaking up again. “Speaking of, it was hard to find fresh rosemary this time around.”

You look up, having finished cutting the leek. A confused expression crosses your face. “Where in the world would you find fresh rosemary in the dead of winter?” You look away, reaching for a carrot, slicing it thinly.

“Rosemary’s an evergreen,” Sho states flatly, reaching for the leek and garlic you cut earlier, mixing it in with the batch of peppers on the stove and stirring them. “You can find that fresh anytime. What’s harder to find, however…” Sho trails off, leaving the stove for a split second, reaching for the bag of your potatoes he’d placed on the ground earlier. He opens the bag and pulls one out, some dirt still stuck in the indents of its skin. “...Is fresh potatoes. They’re typically harvested in the fall.” He smiles at you, before turning away to rinse it off.

Realizing you’d been caught in a lie, you turn away from him, putting all of your focus on the carrot in front of you. You hear his footsteps slowly approaching before he places a freshly washed potato right in front of you, his hand shaking with mirth. 

“Come on, MC. Don’t think I didn’t notice the dirt under your fingernails.” He chuckles before turning back to the stove, stirring the vegetables again. You drop the knife with a clatter and hide your hands behind your back, too nervous to check if you’d missed any spots. 

You sneak a glance up at him, mistakenly making eye contact with him. His eyes gleam with amusement and his smile is soft and fond. “...It can’t have been that obvious.” You decide to admit to it, realizing the heat in your cheeks probably gave it away. 

“It wasn’t.” Sho nods to you, pouring soy sauce over the stir-fried mixture and tossing it before scraping that off in a different to-go container. “I just happened to notice the dirt when you handed the scarf to me, and your potatoes smelled extra earthy.” He takes the pan off the heat, moving over to the chicken and carefully cutting out the breast. 

It’s silent for a few moments, you staring at that freshly cleaned potato and Sho slicing through the chicken, placing the breast in one to-go container and the wings in the other. Sho finally speaks up, though his voice is low. “...You didn’t have to do that, you know.” You look up again, just to find him turned away from you, his ears turning red. Silence falls again as you watch him check off the to-go containers he’s finished. You assume he’s trying to distract himself from the obvious blush on his face, but you can’t say for sure. Something about it makes you feel similar, your heart rate picking up and your face reddening more. It wasn’t due to your embarrassment anymore. “I dunno, I’m bad at thanking people. Just, well…” Sho trails off, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, hiding his face from you. His voice lowers significantly, and contrastingly, the blush on his ears brightens more. “Thank you. I know potatoes take a while to grow. And…” He trails off again and swallows thickly. You don’t bother asking him to finish his sentence. The implications of his words grow somewhat heavy in your heart, and you wring your fingers nervously. Of course it was profound, growing potatoes for someone when you’re doomed to die, now in nine months. The thought of dedicating your time to anything that wasn’t curing your curse was odd, but this distraction had done you well nonetheless. You didn’t want Sho to feel bad about it at all. You were certain that, if anything, the gravity of being recognized by a girl doomed to die was dawning on him. 

The words spill out before you can really stop them. “Don’t worry about it, Sho. I did that because I wanted to.” Confessing this was almost as raw as confessing your feelings, and your chest tightens at that thought, but you continue despite that. “You’ve been kind to me since after our first mission. And I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, including things as mundane as meal prep!” You gesture vaguely to the setting before you, hoping to get your point across. “I just randomly had the idea, and figured it couldn’t be so bad to act on it. It’s been a good distraction anyway, and what with all that happens here, a distraction does me some good.” Silence falls once more, and Sho finally turns to look at you, face flushed. He wipes his palms on his apron and worries his lip between his teeth, his gaze flickering between you and the floor. “...So what if I used up three months to grow potatoes? The time will pass anyways.” You turn away from him, looking at the washed potato. You reach for it and pick up the knife, beginning to cut it into cube chunks. 

“...I guess you’re right.” You can hear a gentle smile in Sho’s voice, and it warms you up internally, feeling thankful he’s accepted the gift. You glance towards him, giving him a smile, and catch him staring. There’s an odd glimpse of admiration in his eyes, which makes your cheeks warm.

“Go on and finish cutting the chicken.” You wave off his stare and jerk your gaze away from him, hiding your blush and focusing on the cubed potato. 

He scoffs and turns away, picking up his knife. “Giving me orders in my own kitchen, huh?” 

You don’t respond. You don’t need to. The warmth of the heaters settles into your skin and the warmth of the previous pleasant conversation settles into your heart. You glance down at the bag of potatoes that started it all. The eyes of the potatoes seem to stare up at you knowingly.

You’re carrying a short stack of to-go containers outside to Sho’s bike, Bonnie, your boots crunching the frosty path beneath you. Snow would surely be coming soon. You gently place the stack in the box on the back of Bonnie, careful to make sure none of them tip over. You hear more crunching footsteps and turn around to see Sho, carrying the rest of the boxes. He places them in the box as well and organizes them before securing the box with a few straps. He steps back and exhales, smiling to himself. You can’t help but smile at his pride.

“Now, to deliver these…” Sho approaches Bonnie and gets on, patting her twice affectionately. The gentle thrum of the engine comes to life in response. He looks to you and smiles, and you notice he’s wearing your scarf. “Sure you don’t want a ride back to the chapel?”

You eye the box of food already on the back of Bonnie and shake your head. You wouldn’t test fate today. Your eyes find your scarf again, sitting snugly around Sho’s neck. “Well, at least you have a use for it.” You say, resigned. Part of you wonders if you’ll ever get it back. 

Sho smiles, reaching up to touch the scarf. “Again, I’ll wash and return it.” He looks up to the sky, and you follow suit, noting the pale white blanket of clouds blocking the sun. “That said…” He starts, lowering his gaze to you again. “It is cold out. I may need this for longer than I expected.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice and his smile turns crooked, as though suppressing a smirk. 

“...I’m not getting that back, am I?”

Sho shrugs, revving up Bonnie. “Who knows?” He smiles fondly at you one last time before speeding off, the wheels of Bonnie leaving tire tracks on the frosty path. You watch him as he leaves, his hair lifting in the wind, the tendrils of your scarf billowing behind him. You watch until he turns a corner and you can only faintly hear the rumbling of Bonnie’s engine. ‘I guess he really did have customers, even in this cold…’ You think to yourself, a faint smile growing on your face. You inhale the crisp cool air, feeling a bit cooler around your neck now that you’re missing a scarf. You idly look back up at the sky again, wondering if it really would snow today. Despite you enjoying the stillness of the winter air on Darkwick campus, the cold eventually bites at you, urging you to return to the chapel. Your footsteps crunch along the frosted path, following Bonnie’s tracks.

It’s Christmas evening, and things are finally winding down for the day. You’d been to Frostheim and made snow angels with Luca and Kaito, had coffee and played chess with Tohma, and Jin, despite himself, hadn’t asked you to run any errands for him today. You’d been to Vagastrom and exchanged gifts with Alan, tolerated Leo’s selfies with you, and looked around for Sho, but hadn’t found him. You’d been to Jabberwock and fed the animals with Haru, watched a romance movie with Towa, and played a holiday-themed horror game with Ren. You’d been to Sinostra and done some gambling with Taiga while Ritsu tagged along to ensure Sinostra’s reputation wasn’t damaged further, and had a surprisingly pleasant conversation with Romeo despite him saying your large coat made you resemble a slug. You’d been to Hotarubi and had tea and holiday sweets with Haku, Subaru, Zenji, and Lyca, who was visiting Subaru. You’d been to Obscuary and had Rui’s new holiday-themed drinks with Ed, chattering time away at the bar. You’d been to Mortkranken and reluctantly exchanged gifts with Yuri, aware of the fit he’d throw if you hadn’t gotten him anything, and pleasantly exchanged gifts with Jiro, reminding him to take good care of himself. 

Finally, after a very long, exhausting, and eventful day, you were back at the chapel, counting the vines growing under your skin, glowing lavender like the flower on the back of your neck. Some small flowers broke your skin and bloomed here and there, leaving the exit wounds somewhat inflamed. Granted, you didn’t have much time left, and these vines made that clear, but this holiday had been much better than you’d expected it to be. You appreciated the effort most of the ghouls put forth to make this holiday at least somewhat enjoyable for you, especially considering it may be your last. 

You sit by the fireplace in your room, watching the snow fall from the sky through your window. You had a tiny pine tree near your bed, decorated with handmade tinsel from the three Hotarubi ghouls and some small ornaments from Jin. You wore new pajamas from Romeo, though you weren’t sure how in the world he knew your size. You had a new bracelet from Taiga, who had originally forgotten who he’d gotten it for. On your nightstand lay a dreidel from Kaito and a snow globe from Luca. The hot chocolate you sipped on was a gift from Tohma, and some wine awaited you in your fridge, a gift from the Obscuary ghouls. You had a few new ugly holiday sweaters from various ghouls, Yuri and Ren included, and some not-so-ugly ones, thanks to Haru and Towa. A thick, heavy book about the origins of the laws of Japan sat on a nearby table, a gift from Ritsu that you had no plans to read. You had lit a scented candle from Leo, which you thought was surprisingly thoughtful, and had set aside the wax melts from Alan, planning to use them after the candle ran out. The new watch from Jiro was wrapped around your wrist, displaying the increasingly late time. In all of this, you wondered where your gift from Sho was. You hadn’t been able to spot him today, and the thought made you feel a little down. You’d wanted to spend some time with him today, but guessed he was probably too busy preparing Christmas dinner for all of Vagastrom and Hotarubi that he simply hadn’t had the time. You set your hot chocolate down on top of the accursed thick book and sprawl out in your chair, turning to the window again. Regardless, this had been a surprisingly wonderful holiday. The ghouls had given you gifts and willingly spent time with you, doing various fun activities and filling you with holiday cheer. It was a nice escape from the reality of your situation, even if it was only for a little while. 

You check the vines under your skin again, resisting the urge to scratch at where a new white flower had bloomed near your elbow. You could feel that, soon after the holiday season mellowed down, it would be back to reality, and you’d have to face your own death once again. Part of you dreaded the eventual change in weather and in the length of days, knowing your predicted end was growing near. But a part of you was also resigned to it. Regardless of whether you were due to die soon or not, this had been a nice holiday. And you could stand to live in the now, just this once. 

You carefully pluck the flower from your skin, wincing at the sharp pain. You bleed for only a few moments before it clots up. At least you could stave off the growth of the curse for now. 

You hear a gentle knock at your door. Physically, you’re too exhausted to have much more fun at this point, but mentally, you could use a pick-me-up. You head down your stairs towards the door, opening it crack by crack, trying to prevent too much of the cold wind from slipping inside. You peer through the open doorway, jolting in surprise when a familiar pair of dark blue eyes meet yours. 

“Hey,” Sho starts, lifting two boxes in his hands. “Thought you could use a warm holiday dinner.”

Your heart swells and all at once, a wave of emotion hits you. Sure, you didn’t have much time left, but that didn’t stop these ghouls from caring, and that was evident in the gifts piled up in your room, the fun you’d had all throughout the day, and the ghoul now standing at your doorstep, seeking more time with you. There was a reason he was your favorite. 

You swing the door open wider, unable to hide the smile that breaks across your face all at once. “I was looking for you, you know.” You cross your arms and narrow your eyes in mock disappointment. “Where’ve you been all day?”

“Cooking.” Sho lifts a brow and shrugs, tilting his head at you. He smiles fondly at you, and you notice he’s finally dressed appropriately for the season; a hat covering most of his hair, a matching coat and gloves keeping him warm, and your scarf, tucked snugly against his neck inside his coat. Yet again, you realize you are probably never getting that scarf back. 

“That scarf is still mine.” You gesture at his scarf, and he laughs, reaching up to brush the built up snow off of it. 

“And I’m still using it.” He replies, smiling wider. “So… Gonna let me in or what? It’s cold out here.” His breath puffs into white clouds, and you notice his cheeks and nose are tinged red again thanks to the cold. You smile and step aside, letting him in. 

You close the door behind him and he shakes off the snow built up on his coat. When he looks at you, his smile holds the warmth of a thousand candles and his voice holds the joy of a thousand holiday carols. “So… got any mistletoe? If not, we can start with gifts. Either works for me.” A blush covers his face as he pushes the boxes towards you, his smile growing wider and fonder.

You figure, regardless of how much time you have left, it wouldn’t hurt to spend a holiday with your favorite ghoul.

Bonus:

The gift, wrapped surprisingly delicately inside one of the boxes, is a knitted scarf in your favorite colors. It’s not bad, but you can tell it was done by a beginner. Holding it in your hands, a small smile grows on your face, and you sigh, totally resigned. 

By god, you are never getting that scarf back. 

“Well, thank you for your collateral replacement, but I expect that scarf back one day.”

Sho shakes his head, smiling as he chews on your shared meal, packed in the other box he was carrying. “No can do. It’s still cold and I still need a scarf.”

“I’m withholding the mistletoe, then.”

Sho huffs, rolling his eyes and continuing the meal. At his lack of a reaction, you purse your lips, thinking of another thing to withhold that might gift you a victory. Sho speaks, having swallowed his mouthful, “I can find other reasons to kiss you-”

“I’m withholding the potatoes.”

Sho looks at you in shock, dropping his forkful back onto his plate. “...I’ll think about it.”

Maybe you would get that scarf back, after all.

----------

a/n: it's done. finally it is done. finally! i've been writing this romance fic 4 a long while so im glad it is finally done

thank you all so much for reading!! as usual, i love likes, but especially comments, reblogs, and asks detailing how much you enjoyed my work!!! please feel free 2 fill up my inbox with whatever, i love talking 2 u all! but be warned my responses will be slow... im still recovering!

happy holidays 2 you all! i hope, whether you're surrounded by family, friends, or by yourself, that it's a wonderful and fulfilling holiday season 4 u. merry christmas 2 those who celebrate, and happy kwanzaa 2 those who celebrate that as well!! not very well versed in other winter holidays, but may they be joyous and merry!

[i4kitty]

alexis is a virgin and it definitely shows, first bj, reader likes making alex shy, softcore smut???? sub alex, use of the name “honey”, reader is overbearing turned into caring and patient, lexis is a loverboy 🤍

sorry if there are accidents (⸝⸝⸝-﹏-⸝⸝⸝)

you knew about alex’s crush on you. how could you not? his tone change and constant stuttering around you was enough to notice. you loved seeing him so nervous, it made you feel prideful that he had fallen for you so hard. but to test him even further, you invited him over to your place. innocently covering it up as just “baking cookies”.

in the kitchen, the two of you stand side by side while reviewing the recipe on your phone one last time before starting. you strategically lean over the counter to give him a provocative view of your body. without even looking you could tell he was having a hard time keeping his eyes on the phone. you fake a small cough to keep yourself from smirking.

as time goes by the tension grew palpable. each accidental (purposeful) touch and lingering look from the both of you had alex feeling nervous. you could tell. as he mixed the bowl of ingredients you notice the tight grip he has on the whisk, possibly to keep his hand from shaking. youre watching him too hard. staring at his face, then his flexed arm, then the bowl infront of him then back to his face. his jaw is clenched.

“is something wrong?” your voice is laced with feigned innocence. alex glances at you and softly smiles, shaking his head.

“i can do it for you. your arm must be tired.” you place a hand flat against his chest and gently push him back. you grin as you feel his heart racing against your palm. stepping infront of him, you make sure the curve of your butt brushes against his crotch. you finish whisking for him as if nothing had happened.

you two continue to work in silence. the only sound being the rhythmic thump of a cookie cutter on dough. you were rather relaxed. sharing quality time with one of your closest friends, baking cookies and enjoying eachothers presence. on the other hand alexs mind was racing, trying to decide if he should make a move or if he was reading too much into the situation. he snaps out of it when you reach over in front of him for a napkin, your boobs rubbing against his forearm. youre so close he could smell your shampoo. or maybe thats just the scent of cookies lingering on your skin?

alex was so desperate for you. especially now. his hands began to tremble as he tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy. he could feel the heat from your body and it was driving him crazy. thats when he felt himself throb against his pants. he wondered if the smell of cookies on your skin would persist while the two of you made love. how would your hands feel on his shoulders as he filled you with his love? would you scratch? pinch? or just hold him close? would you see him as a loving partner or just another man? he escapes his thoughts when he notices you watching him.

“whats the matter? you dont look okay” you ask. voice a sultry purr. you look down, finally taking notice of the issue. he tries to hide himself with his hands, averting his eyes. you look back up at him, eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. “let me help you.” grabbing his arm and guiding him to your couch, you can feel his desperation just based off of how closely hes following you.

you sat him on the sofa and take your spot on your knees on the floor infront of him. you spread his legs apart and shuffle closer to him. now that youre in this position, the spot you’ve wanted to be in for so long, you start to feel overwhelmed. you’ve wanted this just as long as alex has and its finally time. you look up at him nervously. hes already staring down at you with an unreadable expression. but you know he’s nervous too due to him not knowing where to put his hands. cute.

you steadily unzip his pants, revealing his black boxers. his breathing is shallow, theres a feeling of pity in your heart. “are you okay? i need to make sure.” you tilt your head and look at him quizzically. “i was having fun with you before, but now it feels like youre going to melt in front of me. so are you sure?”

alex gives you a reassuring smile that you quickly return. in one swift movement you pull both his pants and boxers down to his ankles. you took his cock in your hand, feeling its warmth and the pulse of his blood under his skin. you leaned in and kissed the tip, feeling his hips lightly jerk. alex places a hand in your hair and leans back.

he moans softly, his hips reacting each time you took him deep. his hands tightened in your hair, guiding you the way he liked. theres an occasional loud groan escaping his lips. your eyes began to water a little as your throat contracts around him. but you were determined to be good for him as an apology for getting him riled up like this in the first place.

“honey,” he gasps, voice barely above a whisper. you soften at the nickname. “im gonna.. gonna cum.” due to his strained cry, your hand strokes the base of his cock faster. swirling your tongue and harshly sucking at his tip.

with a strangled moan, alex came. his body tensing. you gladly swallowed what he gave, some of it freely dribbling out of your mouth and down your chin. you kept sucking, milking every last drop out of him until he was spent and panting.

when you pull away he’s quick to clean off the excess cum on your face using the sleeve of his own sweater. you stare dead into his eyes as he cleaned your face. there’s butterflies in your stomach when you recall the domestic petname he had given you. you sit there lost in thought as alex puts his pants back on. he fixes your hair and wipes your face one last time before helping you to your feet. he’s so loving, an angel.

[velvetvexations]

hello velvet this is going to be a lot abt hate crimes in abstraction (by which i mean, not about an Actual Hate Crime That Happened) but i wanted to warn u in case that was too much for comfort <3

my partner is stealth transmasc, and when you say this i think a lot of people interpret it as "Passes All The Time, Every Time". of course that's not what "stealth" means (it means low/no disclosure... it's flexible bc it's slang, but "stealth" tends to imply intention, it's something you do on purpose for safety reasons). the misconception is irritating most of the time, but i also think its actively dangerous and contributes directly to the erasure of transmasculine oppression. like, i keep seeing people refuting the statement "being stealth is a hostage situation" with "well im stealth and im not scared of being outed" as if it has anything to do with personal sense of fear. youd think that would be obvious.

we live in a blue dot in deeply red state. the difference between our city and where my partner grew up, in the surrounding area, is stark. contrary to popular belief, this doesnt make us safe. he gets threatened with violence walking home alone, he gets called slurs by people that think theyve clocked him as any number of things. you walk fast and dont look behind you when stuff like that happens. none of my friends have been able to answer me when i ask "did they follow you home? do they know where you live?" transfem friends too! it's almost like we're more alike in experiencing transphobia than we are different. who'd've thought.

im thinking abt this bc we travel via greyhound and the last station we left was very very poorly maintained - arent they all? - and in the mens restroom, every door to every stall had a broken lock. my partner joked abt taking a "risky pee" lol, and if it wasnt for where we were, who we are, and the time we are living in, maybe the little icepick of fear wouldnt have gotten stuck in me and i wouldve laughed.

the thing that irritates me abt this discourse is that this type of white knight, tme-in-bio transmasc (or associate) does not at all seem to recognize the danger inherent to being stealth, to looking sort of like a man if the ppl around you are not violent transphobes looking for a fight. they are so consumed by this idea of trans-male privilege that they dont even recognize the danger they are in. often times i think its bc of their own individual privilege. maybe they live in a more trans-friendly region than i do. maybe theyve never met a transphobe, never been called slurs from a speeding car that almost hit you, maybe theyve never been loudly transvestigated in public. i really, sincerely hope they never do. but they take that and apply it to other transmascs far less fortunate and dont even recognize the erasure they are contributing to. bc everyone knows only transfems get hate crimed! who else ever would?

they think that no one has ever clocked them (how? are you a mindreader?), they think that if they look enough like a cis man, "other" cis men wont hurt them, cis women wont be Able to hurt them. they think thats true of every transmasc thats been a year+ on t. it's juvenile. it's icarian. it's misogyny dressed up as solidarity and chivalry. and it's not even fucking true. the vast majority of Any trans person who is trans in Any number of ways is going to face fear and anxiety and the potential for danger in a bathroom.

thank you for sharing anon <3

[0omillo0]

Seungmin angst/comfort where he is confronted in public about is relationship with Y/N and brushes it off and it really hurts Y/N’s feelings to where they feel like he doesn’t care about them.

A Quiet Love — Seungmin x (gn) Reader 김승민

Seungmin and Y/N had always prided themselves on their quiet love. It wasn’t the kind that sought attention or demanded validation from the world. Their relationship existed in the spaces between: shared glances, stolen smiles, and the warm silence of simply being together. While others might have needed grand gestures, they found solace in the simplicity of knowing they had each other.

But sometimes, simplicity comes with its own challenges.

It started as an ordinary day. The two had decided to step out for a walk, something they rarely did together in public. The chilly breeze carried the scent of roasted chestnuts from a nearby street vendor, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile as Seungmin tugged his cap lower to shield himself from curious onlookers.

“You’re so paranoid,” Y/N teased, their voice soft.

Seungmin chuckled, the sound light and comforting. “Just being careful,” he said, his hand brushing against Y/N’s briefly before retreating back into his pocket.

The day unfolded naturally—an unhurried stroll through the city, a stop at a tiny café that Y/N loved, and easy conversations about nothing in particular. They were both relaxed, their usual guardedness melting away in the anonymity of the crowd.

But as they stood in line for coffee, the tranquility shattered.

“Hey, aren’t you Seungmin from Stray Kids?”

The voice was curious, yet probing. A stranger stood before them, their eyes darting between Seungmin and Y/N. “And is this… your lover?” they asked, their tone laced with interest.

Seungmin stiffened slightly, his polite smile returning out of habit. “Uh, no what… I don’t even know them.” His voice was calm, composed, and practiced.

The stranger seemed to get the hint, offering an awkward laugh before mumbling something about being a fan and walking away.

Y/N stood frozen, the brief exchange replaying in their mind. Seungmin’s words were dismissive, almost clinical, it stung in ways Y/N hadn’t expected.

They pushed the feeling aside, determined not to let it ruin the day. But as the hours passed, the ache grew, a quiet doubt settling in their chest. Did Seungmin care about their relationship? Or was he so focused on protecting his image that their love was something he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—acknowledge? Were they really a stranger to him?

By the time they returned to their shared apartment, Y/N could no longer keep their emotions bottled up. As Seungmin set the coffee cups down on the counter, humming softly to himself, Y/N’s voice broke through the silence.

“Seungmin,” they said, barely above a whisper. “Can we talk?”

He turned to face them, immediately sensing the tension. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

Y/N hesitated, their fingers twisting nervously. “It’s about earlier. At the café.”

Seungmin frowned, replaying the moment in his mind. “What about it?”

“When that person asked about us… about me,” Y/N began, their voice shaking, “you said you didn’t even know me. Like it wasn’t important. Like I wasn’t important. I know you have to keep it secret.. but it hurt.. in some ways.”

His expression softened, concern flooding his eyes. “Y/N, that’s not true—”

“Then why didn’t you just say yes?” Y/N interrupted, their voice cracking. “Why couldn’t you just tell them the truth? Are you embarrassed to be with me?”

Seungmin’s eyes widened in alarm. “What? No! Y/N, I’m not embarrassed—”

“Then what is it?” Y/N pressed, tears slipping down their cheeks now. “I get that you want to keep things private, but sometimes it feels like you’re hiding me. Like I’m not enough for you to be proud of.”

The words hit Seungmin like a punch to the gut. He stared at them, guilt and regret swirling in his chest. “Y/N,” he said softly, stepping closer. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize how that made you feel. I thought I was protecting us, but I see now that I was wrong.”

Y/N sniffled, their arms wrapping around themselves protectively. “I just want to feel like I matter to you. Like we matter.”

“You do,” Seungmin said, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out, gently cupping Y/N’s face in his hands. “You matter more than anything to me. I love you, Y/N. I love us. And I’m sorry I made you feel otherwise.”

Y/N looked up at him, their tear-filled eyes searching his face for sincerity. They found it in the way his brows knit together in concern, in the quiver of his lips as he spoke, and in the warmth of his touch.

“I’m not good at expressing myself sometimes,” Seungmin admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I care so much, Y/N. I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll show you every day how much you mean to me.”

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to their forehead. The gesture was so full of love and remorse that Y/N couldn’t help but collapse into his embrace, their arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

“I just don’t want to feel like I’m in this alone,” they murmured against his chest.

“You’re not,” Seungmin assured them, his voice steady and resolute. “You never will be. I’ll stand up for us, for you, from now on. I’ll make sure you always feel loved and cherished.”

In the warmth of his arms, Y/N felt the doubt and hurt begin to fade. They knew that their relationship wouldn’t always be perfect—there would be challenges, missteps, and misunderstandings. But as long as they had moments like this, moments of honesty and reconciliation, they knew their love would endure.

That night, as they sat together on the couch, Seungmin laced his fingers with Y/N’s and whispered, “I’ll never let you feel like you’re anything less than my everything.”

taglist @intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon

[thef1diary]

Does ghost!max use plugs on reader? Or does he use himself to fill her up all the time? How does he punish her? Figging, spanks, edging, overstimulation👀👀👀👀

— why not a bit of everything 🤭 treading new territory here w figging but the thought isn’t leaving my mind. bear w me here cuz fuck that’s hot. 18+ content below

The punishment started slowly, deliberately, as Max preferred. A plug had been his opening move, filling you for days with no relief, teasing your body into a desperate need you couldn’t ignore. Each time you clenched around it, the emptiness beyond its unyielding length was a cruel reminder that this was all you would get. Not his hands. Not his cock. Just the plug, stretching you wide, leaving you wanting. He repaid you with the same amount of attention you’d given him for the past few days—nothing.

But when he finally decided you’d endured enough of that, he upped the stakes. He materialized beside you with a smirk and although he wasn’t fully visible—he never was—lately, you’d started to notice more of him. It was like a faint outline of his form, like shadows meeting mist.

He held a ginger root in his hand, peeled and roughly carved into the shape of a plug—larger than the one you had in you—the jagged, raw texture making your stomach twist.

“You’ve been ignoring me for days,” the spirit box crackled with his distorted voice as his invisible hands stroked your trembling thighs. “Now you’ll see what that gets you.”

You whimpered as he pulled the plug from your stretched hole, leaving you empty for only a moment before the ginger replaced it. The burn wasn’t immediate but once it hit, it was brutal, your muscles clenching and unclenching around the foreign intrusion. The heat spread like wildfire every time your hole tightened around it, making you cry out.

“Keep this in,” he commanded, his tone sharp as you squirmed, your legs trembling.

Your panties were pulled up snugly to hold the ginger in your ass, pressing it even deeper. The friction of the fabric made the burn worse, every tiny movement igniting sparks of unbearable heat deep inside you.

“I want you to feel it,” Max purred, his voice low and wicked. “Every single step you take, every chore you do, every moment you try to pretend you’re not dripping for me.”

He left you like that, the ginger stretching you, the fiery sensation building with every motion. You tried to focus on your tasks, but Max wasn’t going to let you get off that easy.

Invisible hands slid over your hips as you folded laundry, a cold, ghostly touch circling your clit through the damp fabric of your panties. The contrast of the icy fingers over and inside your cunt and the burning ginger in your ass made you whimper, your knees buckling as he teased you.

“You stop working, I stop playing,” the spirit box relayed his warning, his fingers pulling away as soon as you faltered.

You whined, your legs trembling as you forced yourself to continue, folding and stacking as best you could while his hands returned, teasing and tormenting you. He alternated between feather-light touches and deliberate thrusts, never enough to let you tip over the edge.

The minutes turned into what felt like hours, your body quivering with need, the ginger still lodged deep inside your ass, the burn mixing with the relentless ache of arousal.

When Max finally grew tired of your pitiful attempts at household tasks, he pushed you over his knee, holding you steady as you trembled.

“You thought you could ignore me?” his voice came through the device but you could almost feel his cold breath brushing against your ear. “You think I’ll let that slide?”

The first slap landed, sharp and stinging, making the ginger shift inside you. You cried out, the pain from his hand mingling with the unbearable heat inside you. Each strike made you clench around the ginger, the burn intensifying as he alternated between spanking you and twisting the root, pulling it halfway out only to shove it back in.

“Look at you,” he sneered, his voice laced with dark amusement. “A shaking, moaning mess, all because you thought you could ignore me.”

When he finally pulled the ginger out and tossed it aside, he circled your tight, puckering hole that had turned red and sensitive, making you squirm. You barely had time to recover before his fingers replaced the root. They slid inside your ass with ease, the cool touch a welcome contrast to the heat that lingered.

But Max wasn’t done. Using his other hand, his fingers curled inside your cunt, finding the spot that made you see stars, stroking it relentlessly. He brought you to the brink of orgasm by thrusting in and out of your ass and pussy simultaneously, only to stop just as you were about to tip over, leaving you sobbing and pleading.

“You’re not getting off that easily,” he hissed, dragging his cold fingers over your swollen clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your overstimulated body.

Again and again, he edged you, pulling you back from an orgasm each time, leaving you trembling and gasping, tears streaming down your face as you begged for release.

“Please, Max,” you sobbed, your voice broken. “Please, I’ll never ignore you again. Just—please.”

“Next time,” he whispered, the spirit box almost failing to pick up his voice. His cold lips brushed against your ear, “you’ll think twice before ignoring me.”

want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[exhelluvafan]

The thing that irritates me the most about Helluva Boss is the adamant need to waste any potential for depth in every character. The thing that stops me from abandoning this train wreck of a show and feeling total apathy for it is its wasted potential.

TOO MUCH FUCKING WASTED POTENTIAL.

And obviously, the elephant in the room, aka the blatant misogyny and double standards because viv is writing yaoi so the fans could consume the emotional uwu moments and porn. SO MUCH PORN DAMN IT.

And the thing that eats away at me is the characters such as stolas and stella had such an easy chance to be morphed into something so deep that the show could be a soap opera about their drama alone.

In my humble opinion, the Goetia demons shouldn't have been in this show at all. They belong in a show like Hazbin that's showcasing the upper echelon of hell. This should've been about IMP, but I'm not ripping that one bandaid off because the wound under it is a biohazard. Anyway, I wanted to offer a rewrite for the 😍 lovely poor uwu baby Stolas and his DEMON, BITCH OF A WIFE, Stella. (Yeah, the sarcasm's strong with this one)

First of all I love how her name means star 🌟. It ties in together nicely with the whole astrology aesthetic of the family. We're gonna ignore the born-to-be-a-bitch personality the show presented her as having and focus on what caused her issues.

First of all, she probably knew from a young age that she was going to be wed off into an arranged marriage (just like stolas), and she knew she had the responsibility of birthing an heir. That's going to affect how she views love and marriage in general. She'd see it as a transaction, that she can offer an heir and her body, and receive what she wants. I have no problem with her being a spoiled brat, a mean girl. In fact, take it up a notch. She can be both of that! She was probably given every materialistic thing she wanted since the day she was born other than love and affection. That probably made her narcissistic and selfish, with the "I get everything that I want and you can't stop me" attitude.

She's a party girl, and we stand for that. She seems to be very extroverted and outgoing, and that clashes with stolas' more subdued and introverted personality.

I see her as being EXTREMELY paranoid about appealing to the high society that she's a part of and keeping herself at the top of the food chain amongst other aristocrats, unlike stolas who only does it to keep face or avoid getting too much attention, she wants to be noticed ans seen. Her gossipy, high society friends also reinforce the fact that she never had normal friends who cared about her, and she never grew out of her mean girl phase.

I see her as someone with so much passion in her heart, and sadly, we had to see all that turned into rage. She has trouble controlling her temper and the constant rage that boils inside her, and she explodes and lashes out on people, especially stolas.

I see her going into a marriage with stolas with the same "I'll get what I want" attitude. He has power, money, and legions to his name, and he isn't necessarily bad looking. So stella is like, "Eh, might as well..."

He isn't her dream partner, but she goes into the marriage thinking she can mould him into her dream man. Or thinking he's meek enough to leave her on her own, or she could even manipulate him to do as she pleases. None of those go as planned, though.

.

.

.

I can lowky see her dragging him around as she shops and him just wanting to die inside, lol

Oh my, Anon, this quite a lot of words, but I actually really love your rewrite, I can see Stella actually watching Mean Girls while Stolas dies inside and just stares at the infinite lmao

But sadly, this is a Viv show, and you know that women in these kinds of shows aren't allowed to have any nuance beyond a one-note use or personality trait, unless they're stepping stools for the male cast, which in that case, they're allowed to have a bit more of depth, but not too much.

And yeah, actually, now that you mention it, the Goetia demons shouldn't have been in Helluva, if anything, they should've been shown on Hazbin, like you said, because we are following along a protagonist that was born in royalty (Charlie) and it would make a lot of sense to see the Goetia demons there, since it would be a royal meetup or something like that.

And lastly, about the porn... I can corroborate this since a lot of the designs made by Viv or by her team look... conventionally attractive, so conventional that's artificial and try hard at times, and also, pretty safe but sometimes pushing the limits a bit to pander to gay people (Vortex, Asmodeus and Satan, to name a few muscular characters that are quite popular, but also Moxxie, Chaz and Striker, also popular in the gay side of the fandom) but it always boils down to the same purpose: to get people horny, and this is exemplified so painfully clear when Loona shook her ass towards the camera in one of the episodes, turning out to be shameless furry bait, and when I say that these shows are gooning and softcore porn shows, it's because of deliberate shit like this.

But alas, thanks for your input, Anon, it's greatly appreciated and it's quite the palette cleanser to see someone competent pick up Viv's mess and restructure it into something actually compelling and nuanced.

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

just wondering, do you know about the cross-collar rule in asian attire? (if not nbd, just thought you might have some interesting thoughts on it in regards to the first ninja)

YES!!! I do actually!!! ;DD Tho admittedly I only discovered it a few years ago and while I 100% incorporated it into my First Ninja headcanons, I didn't have a chance to share it, I guess, haha. ;D

For those curious about the cross-collar rule: Japanese kimono is traditionally worn left side wrapped over right, unless the wearer is deceased.

Tho in RC9GN character sheets designs - ALL kimono wearing characters with the right side wrapped over left.

While I have no idea if this was an animation error due to negligence of research, or a deliberate choice with or without that clothing rule in mind (considering they travel to past and technically all people they saw are dead in the future lol), but you sure as hell can believe me that my mind run absolutely feral with that tidbit.

In some of my posts I mentioned my hcs about how First Ninja is incredibly loyal to his Clan and the siblings he lost, about how much survival guilt he must have suffered, and how much effort and energy he puts into making sure that the Ninja - the culmination of all their efforts - must survive and live on, all in order to keep the Sorcerer contained and their newfound home (and the world) safe and secure. To the point that he would immerse himself completely into his role of the protector and erase any other identity that he had left - an incredibly utterly noble and stupidly horrifying gesture of self-sacrifice for the continuous survival of his clan even at the price of his civilian life.

I trust you can see where the cross-collar rule comes into play with this. ;)

Because in First Ninja's mind - he is a dead man walking. Whatever was left of his semi-normal life with his siblings had been slipping away from him with every loss, until there was nothing left but the duty his clan had taken on. Whatever he was before that, whatever he could have been - has been dead for a long time. And contrary to harsh wording I use, I do not really see First regard it as a great loss - it is still a loss, but here comes a rule of 'the sacrifice of one for the good of many' (something this Clan will surely understand) - if anything it would seem like a logical progression for all the events of his life.

There is a reason I built my headcanons around First Ninja as the youngest of the Clan: if your whole life revolved around an important duty, it would not seem like the great sacrifice for you to devote your entire life to it to that kind of point considering all the circumstances. I mean from an outside perspective it is pretty horrible, but when you literally grew up in the situation? Its a different matter.

But the rule also can be interpreted in a more (?) uplifting manner because, if you took notice - his Ninja suit is also wrapped right over left, and in this case I chose to interpret it as not sign of death but rather continuity, an immortality of sorts if you will - because even if what was left of that young Norisu lord is dead - the Ninja will live on through inheritance, and no matter how much time will pass, how many inheritors will come and go - Ninja itself will survive. And isnt that an immortality in itself?

Admittedly while I have a great deal of thoughts about this, I'm not good at sharing my headcanons (even now I reread what I wrote and wonder if its even coherent haha...), and so far I only managed to allude to the cross-collar rule in one of my MIS posts:

Where First Ninja is still a mortal but who wears his clothes like a dead man, and Chase Young is an immortal who would not even think of dying, lol.

But trust me, while Im struggling to express all of that - every time I draw First, that rule and all the angsty implications of it are constantly on my mind. ;)

[tparker48]

Request for annonymous

The weekend was supposed to be a week of relaxation, filled with shows for Milai to binge and snack on popcorn. But that all changed when Rad shoved a Mathematics final into his face. As if handling chemistry wasn't hard enough. Saturday was spent calculating his professor’s what if problems; Sunday's focusing on how to bring them together. He wrote down his answers enough for Rad to understand, all he had to do was write it down.

He packed the assignment into a file, emailing it to Rad. He thought that was the end of it, that is, until morning arrived. Rad had sent him a text to meet him in the gym, said he had a stereo project for Milai to see. Of course he did. Arriving at the gym, He followed Rad into the heart of the gym, stepping into the locker rooms.

Sitting along the floor was a leather box, Guarded by Rad’s friends.

"This is the stereo you were talking about?" Milai eyed the small box.

"You bet,” Rad replied, “the boys have been saying it's been having shitty quality, can barely handle the ox.”

Milai cocked a brow, approaching the box from its side. He eyed the belted patterns along the corner of its faces, tracing them as he moved to the middle of the structure. A panel creaked open, and he peered inside. No cassette deck, no wires, not even a plug.

"I don't see anything in here! Are you sure this is even a stereo?"

"Nope,” Rad said, “but it sure will come close to being one!"

Milai jerked as the rubbery hide of a sneaker tackled behind him, casting him into the mouth of the panel. Darkness swallowed the light as the panel closed, a loud clunk echoing on the other side. He raised his arms ahead, barely able to see the silhouette of his fingers through the dimmed lighting beneath the panel.

A tilt along the side of the box slid him to the opposite wall, laughter filling the void like a pack of hyenas.

"I told you this shit would work!" Rad’s voice muffled beyond the walls, joined by the snickering of his friends.

"Rad!” Milai banged against the wall. “What is the meaning of this?!"

"You gave me a failing grade, you little shit nugget! The professor’s stupid computer claimed it as plagiarized."

"You sent it as it was?! You were supposed to write it down!"

"That's what I have you for, nerd, and you did a shitty job at it!" Rad replied. "But that's good, you just gave me an excuse I can use for the coach to keep my spot on the team."

The floor yanked from under Milai, slamming him against the leathered wall. Cement grinds against the fabric below, a hard thud striking the walls as he spun in place. Another thud impacted the box before a knock lingered beyond the walls, Rusted creaks following.

“Rad!” A scruffier voice rumbled above. “Thought I told you to pack your things."

"Cut me some slack, coach, I just wanna give you and the team an apology gift.” The box jerked forward. Feast your eyes on this bad boy!”

“A box?”

“Not just any box,” rad added, “A state of the art isolation box, fit for all your needs.”

Milai banged against the leathered interior, his blows absorbing into its sturdy walls.

“You must think 'cause I'm old you can take me for a fool.” The coach said. “You really think a box is gonna change my mind.”

"Not at all, sir. It’s something I’d want you to consider."

Watery steps echoed in the distances, herds of and groans filling the void.

“And it seems I just made it in time. What do ya say, coach, save your nostrils the wrath of the team, or let it stink up the place.”

“You’ve got some nerds talking to me like that.” The coach growled, his words rumbling through the box.

“I mean no ill will, coach. Cross my heart.” The floor beneath Milai flung from him off his feet, tilting vertically before the coach groaned outside. “You’d better hurry, I can already hear the trumpets from here.”

Rad’s steps grew hollow, a creak from the locker room door signaling his departure. Milai stared at the hollow ceiling, rubbing his aching rear.

“I swear that boy stresses the hell out of me.” The coach said above, the walls shifting as Milai fell to the opposite wall. "Looks sturdy enough, this damn thing better be worth it than that brat’s yammering."

The box seesawed as heavy steps filled the atmosphere. Milai could barely stand, the floor’s firm jerks bullying him from wall to wall like a pinball. It brushed him into a corner, and he clung to the dented strips in the wall, holding it like the railing on a theme park ride.

A loud thud boomed from outside, and the sound of running water overcame the silence. Chatters that were once distant now surround the dark tomb talking about scrimmages and favorite plays. They were in the showers. The team’s showers. The floor drifted as he became weightless, box slamming on the ground with a wet splash.

"Christmas came early boys!" The coach announced, roping the chattering players to silence. "A little elf's brought you all a little present for your aching tushies."

The box thrusts forward, the far wall catching Milai as it spun somewhere ahead. Slowly it came to a stop, and Watered steps echoed around. The ceiling rattled before the circular opening tore off, light bursting inside like a flash grenade. However the moment of light was brief, as a mountainous mass eclipsed the opening.

"Now I don't have to tell you overgrown buffaloes how to use a toilet." The coach’s hide slid over the opening, his silky sack drooping inside. They over Milai like a string of snot, its meloned testicle threatening to droop closer with the slightest shift. "I’ll keep this simple, if any of you has to so much as crack a gasket, you direct all that to this box."

Fingers peeled a mound from the other, its shriveled sphincter blossoming from its cleft like a flower. Its folds quivered, before a gale of flatulence rushed into the bowl. Its warmth blanketed over Milai, spreading across the box like a morning fog. His nostrils screamed, His lungs tightening to hold the tiny sample of fresh air contained within them.

Beyond the walls, groans echoed from the surrounding players, as if his pain transmitted to them.

"Can it! I've faced weeks smelling your stink bombs, you can handle hearing a bit of mine." The coach squeezed another burst, peeling from the opening with a rough squeak. "Alright dismissed! Get those raw dogs of yours washed, All I want to smell by the you’re all done is the fabreeze dispenser!"

Shorts pulled over the hairy hide before it vanished over the edge, leaving a skylight in the middle of the ceiling. For a moment, Milai’s lungs could breathe again, though tainted from the coach's foul odor. Shadow danced from the opening, Chattering returned.

"He wants us to use this dainty thing?" One player said, pressing a foot against its side.

"Bullshit, the thing's tin can, it could barely hold the old man!" Another chimed.

Chattering increased, watered steps funneling closer. The smell of lavender seeped into his nostrils as another rear eclipsed the opening, droplets of water pattering from its round spheres like rain.

"Look guys, we can sit here and complain about the coach's..questionable tactics. But.." The player paused, a burst of air erupting from the hole, carrying with it water droplets as they struck Milai. "I, for one, am not going to challenge that. And I suggest you all do the same less you wanna do bear crawls in the hot sun again."

The player peeled from the box, light illuminating the walls once more. Milai pawed against the leathered floor, coughing to cast out the tainted air.

Hell no, I'm not doing that again, my jock nearly gave me a rash with all that crawling." a player said.

"Nearly? Mine damn near gave me a wedgie!" Another chimed.

Their steps approached, blocking the ceiling light like pillars. Milai clambered to his feet, coughing at the pungent odor that stuck to him like cologne.

“Hey!..” He said between breaths. “There’s in here!..no more!”

Nothing, not even a glance over the circular rim. The dimmed light turned black as another rear hovered overhead. Its mounds scrunched together like unopened loaf of bread, Gyrating with a shift of the player’s weight. Milai called to the descending player, but they were drowned out as flesh skidded against the opening.

Fingers peeled its sides, the eye of the ass casting its judgement to the interior of the box. Milai banged against the walls, his words bouncing off them like an echo chamber. The player’s anus cocked, and a sewery gale flowed inside. Its air was as ripe as a left out trash can, loud and wet as it invaded his lungs.

The ass rose, and another took its place, carrying with it a cacophony of smell no man should ever witness.

This parade of flatulence continued for minutes, asses narrow and wide passing over the opening like the sun hidden away by the shower's walls. With each ass that docked overhead, it brought with it another warmth, another torture he had to wait to disperse or absorb into the walls. It was beyond unbearable.

Milai pulled off his shirt, tainted sweat in its fabric dampening his fingers like a wet towel. He didn't know much he could take from this. This shitty container was going to be a tomb for his sinuses. Another wave washed him, rumbling the floor before it wisped to the edge.

In that instant, everything went silent, chatters echoing above. Was it over? Truly over?

"Out the room! The atom bomb's coming!" A player announced.

Milai widened. "Atom who?"

Commotion erupted from the players outside, the top of their domes zipped past the rim.

"Hey, wait! Don’t leave!" Milai banged against the edge. "Let me out of this thing!"

No response, the sounds of their watery steps fading. Curtains draw as silence brewed, ;leaving behind only the sound of the shower’s running faucets..

"Do they always have to keep saying that?" A voice said, heavy steps coming from behind. "I swear one milkshake mishap and you’re branded for life!"

Milai eyed the opening, focusing on the player’s steps. He couldn’t see anyone past its ridge, but he could feel their presence in the air, like it was embedded in his bones. The heavy steps came to a halt, water droplets trickling over the open. The ceiling light shifted as a kick struck the side of the box, and the blocky silhouette of a player cast overhead.

The player’s gaze tilted, a groan escaping from them. "Coach said we have to use this? He couldn’t have asked for a bigger one?" A loud rumble pierced the air, rippling his barreled gut. “This thing won’t last a second, But I guess it’ll have to do.”

The player turns around, the bulk of his gut shifting to his ample mounds like a flipped coin. He lowered himself onto the box, and he could almost hear it scream. The walls buckled, the sound of tearing leather echoing from the walls.

Veins streaked across the walls, light bleeding inside. Milai scrambled to them, sliding an arm through, to wiggle himself out. Only his shoulder could squeeze through, the walls pressing against his cheek.

The metal hide popped as the crevice split horizontally. He pulled his arm just as their ends clanged together, tumbling to the middle of the container.

The ceiling creaked louder, the cracks blistering up the walls. They climbed to the top of the box, and the ceiling bucked. Milai barely had time to move before its rim met his palms. His knees met his stomach, his as burning beneath the player’s weight.

"Great, just great, I can feel the bottom in my crack." The player groaned, Milai’s hair sticking to his cleft as it rubbed in place. “Stupid leather’s lighting a fire in my ass.”

Bubbles oozed from its fleshy crevices, forcing the ring to distend. Its roar erupted into the box, and a foul warmth spewed upon his back. The ass above fluttered in his palms, its flatulence vibrating his palms like a motor boat.

The gas sealed with a grotesque squelch, the ass shuttering. "Ah, that's much better."

"Come on.." Milai gritted beneath the player's weight. He could hear the container creak louder, the edge of the rim dipping as it pressed against his head. If this keeps up he'll..No, he has to find a way out of this thing.

He slid his palms along the edge, ushering from beneath the dipping end of the rim. He looked back to the blanket of ass flesh above, eyeing the empty space. He didn’t like the idea, but it was better than being crushed. He slid a foot from beneath him, a burn overwhelming his limbs as they began to shake.

With little strength he had left, he kicked himself away, splaying against the cleft of the player’s ass as the rim met the bottom.

"Damn thing barely lasted a minute, it’s a flapjack more than a box now." The player rang above. His hole spewed its foul breath into the tattered box, warming Milai’s back.

He pawed against the floor beneath him, crawling inside a pocket of air. He barely gained an inch before air fluttered beneath the player’s taint, flesh flattening him. The hole erupted again, droplets collecting at Milai’s neck forcing him to wince. Amidst its bubbly release, a door creaked in the distance, a familiar voice streaking the air.

“Yo Atom, Hurry in it there!" Rad said, dripping with a snarked tone.

"You of all people know not to call me that, you dunce!” He snapped back.

"Ooo excuse me, sorry I Interrupted your little pampering.”

Milai writhed beneath the player, focusing on the small patch of light seeping between his legs. Atom’s weight shifted, his anus squashing upon his waist.

“Thought coach told you to beat it!” Atom said. “I don’t need any more trouble than having a deadbeat like you talking with me.”

“Coach turned over a new leave, I'm back on the team.” Rad mocked. “Even sent me come fetch you from your little..heh, gas problem before you stink the place.”

“Bullshit!”

“Best believe, I’m back in the game baby.” Rad replied. “But hey, if you don’t you can always just sit here and continue, buut It’d be a shame to see you running those laps on the field. Coach was watching those hills pretty close the last I saw him."

Atom groaned, vibrating through the walls like thunder. "Damn it just…gimme a second."

The player’s legs tightens, the soft tissue of his taint smother against Milai’s cheek. Ripples channeled toward his anus, and he was poured in his flatulence. It radiated his backside like the heat waves from an oven, enveloping him in its musk from head to toe. He pawed at the small gap between the player's legs, hoping to squeeze past the bulk of the player’s backsack and into the open. but to no avail.

The hole shriveled in size, its wind concentrating into a singular stream as his clothes stuck to his skin. As it rose from the bowl, his leg jerked as his foot caught along one of its folds.

“Wait..” He dangled beneath the player, the anus dragging him between the bubbled mounds like a predator with a fresh catch. The hills of flesh climbed over his body, swallowing up to his head. Wait wai-!"

"Can't believe I have to rush at a time like this, you didn't see me nagging about their time with the box." Atom scratched idly at his rear, a fire stirring between them. "Now I've got a damn itch.."

He straightened himself, concentrating on his glutes. With a firm squeeze, a burst of air fluttered from his cheeks, escaping into the open air.

"Mph!"

"Huh?" He snapped back, finding only the empty shower curtains. "thought I heard somethin' just now.."

He scanned the neighboring showers, before looking toward the container. Its corners were mangled, veins stretching along either side as a butt print carved into the metal hide of the lid. He turned toward the door, Rad peering over his shoulder. He thought he was looking at the jerseys toppled in the corner, but his gaze laid on the box, a smirk stretching to his ear.

“The hell you staring at?!” He nudged a shoulder into Rad. “Wanna sniff or something?!”

“Like I’d want to sniff the ass of the atom bomb.”

“You son of..call me that again and I’ll turn you as flat as this box.”

“You could, you definitely could, however who’s scent will the coach be smelling?” His sly grin widened, his eyes Peering into Atom. “Wouldn’t be mine, but I’m sure whoever was here last will surely get the extra laps. don’t you think, Atom bomb?”

His face scrunched, his fingers tensing. He shot an arm to Rad's jersey, ensnaring it into his fist. He held the other mid air, the tip of Rad’s nose grazing across his knuckles. Even now the brat held his stupid grin, puckering his lips as if he were going to kiss his fist.

Whistling blew from the cracked door, the coach barking plays as they reverberated the cemented walls

“What’ll it be, bomby boy.” Rad said in a singsong, cocking a brow.

Atom held his fist closer, his body yearning to shrivel Rad’s face like a lemon. He shoved him away, sent the shambled box to the far wall with a sluggish kick.

“You’re lucky I like this sport.” He growled beneath his breath.

“And the sport likes you, Atom!” Rad’s smirked. “I do too!”

“Can it!”

He hoists his shorts to his waist, his briefs wrapping around his rear, but something felt off. It was tighter than they usually were, pinching between his mounds like a wedge. He plucked at one its ends, drawing a cheek from its layer as it spilled over the flaps. The tightened sensation lessened, reduced to softened pressure as his mound clapped together.

“I swear this thing’s been bugging me.”

“Seems like you got a real nuisance up your ass, ay Atom bomb?”

“Not as much a nuisance as you are!”

[fictitiouswanderings]

Untitled Jayvik throwaway

“It doesn’t mean a thing to me if you’re different” Jayce spoke softly to Viktor, his hand cupping his face. 

Viktor had no idea how he ended up in this predicament. His lab partner was so close he could smell his cologne, hell he could smell the liquor on his breath. “You’re just saying that” he replied, turning his head away from his calloused hand. “You wouldn’t even begin to understand the differences we own” 

What was once a normal day in the lab had turned so quickly into a sloppy mess, how had this happened? A celebration of their newest accomplishments, a little liquor, and maybe being in each other's closeness a little too often had led to this, but Viktor couldn’t help but squirm away from him. Tipsy or not, he didn’t think of his lab partner as anything other than such, or at least that’s what he wanted to think. It was impossible to not get so close after working day and night together like they had, but he’d never imagine they’d be THIS close, or that Piltover’s golden boy would find him attractive. He could have anyone he wanted, so why him? 

“Then indulge me”, Jayce said, as he pulled his hand back and gave the other some space so that he wasn’t almost pinning him to the counter. He could see Viktor visibly relax, his hand on his cane adjusting for a better hold. “I know that you’re ill, I can see that, but ill or not I still have these feelings for you, and I can’t very well hold them back any longer”

“Why me?”, was all Viktor could muster, lowering his eyes from the other’s intense gaze. 

“Why not you?”

Viktor has a secret, something he felt he couldn’t share with anyone. In order to fit into Piltover’s greater society he had to keep it to himself. He worked harder than anyone else to deserve where he was at now. A great scientist, an amazing discoverer of magics yet to be harnessed. He wouldn’t let his illnesses defeat his sheer will to create. 

Working hard in the laboratory side by side with his partner Jayce they did amazing things, even if the council was unconvinced in its usefulness. Most nights he would stay at the lab, sleeping sprawled across the desk and his notes, but every so often he would need to return home, and home was the safest of places for him. A place where he could rest as he really needed to. 

Wearing a binder wasn’t safe for long periods of time, he knew that, but work required his attention. It wasn’t like he needed a binder, he was already fairly flat and could hide well enough under layers of clothing, but he enjoyed the extra security it offered. At home he could strip down from all the extra things his body required, braces and such, but it always felt best to take off that damned binder at the end of a long day. His body ached but he made his way to the shower to clean off. 

Under the warm water he found himself thinking of his lab partner, the way his eyes sparkled when they were on the brink of discovery, the way his voice quickened. He would be stupid to deny that he was handsome as well as smart. He sighed softly under the warmth and tried to let his thoughts drift off to anything else, but they’d always come back to him. There wasn’t anything he could do about it, Jayce was just so enticing. His broad shoulders and chest, his physique spoke of being more than a scientist and Viktor wondered how he found the time to make it to the gym as well as work in the lab. He hummed softly as he washed his hair then the rest of his body before getting out to dry off. 

He hobbled over to the mirror and wiped away the condensation before leaning in and taking a closer look at his face. It was gaunt, like always. No matter how much he ate, or what he did, he always looked like he was at the brink of starvation, a ghost of a man. He hated how smooth his skin was, and thought of how effortless it seemed for Jayce to grow a beard in the days they’d be working on something. Hardly anything grew on his own, not even peach fuzz. He sighed and instead grabbed a nearby brush and ran it through his hair, the one thing he was proud of. He took great care to detangle it. Once he was done brushing his hair he made sure to dry off completely, throwing the towel over a rack before leaving his bathroom completely nude to return to his bed. 

It wasn’t until he heard a key drop that he realized he wasn’t alone. He was maybe halfway to his bed when he heard the noise, followed by a sharp gasp. No other feeling could describe how he felt other than a deer in headlights. He looked across the room towards the door past the small kitchenette, and in the doorway was Jayce standing there looking dumbfounded. 

Jayce quickly turned around and faced the door, “S-Sorry!”, he yelled out, “I thought I would come check on you since you weren’t at the lab–”

“GET OUT, GET OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW”, Viktor shouted. He quickly grabbed the sheet off his bed and covered himself from chest to toe, his whole body flushed with embarrassment.

Without saying another word, and without picking up the dropped key Jayce fumbled the doorknob of his apartment and left. 

How could he have not heard the door open? What all did he see? Pretty obviously his whole naked ass body. Viktor sat on his bed and groaned, his face falling into his hands. His biggest secret was out, and so stupidly. What could he do about this now? He tried to regain his composure but instead let himself fall onto his side in his bed, curling up and holding himself tightly.

—-

It had been days since the incident and Viktor was nowhere to be seen. Jayce worked hard in the lab despite this. He wondered when the other would return to work, he’d almost never missed a day despite his illnesses, so this was unnerving to him. He felt awful for walking in on him, and still couldn’t wrap his brain around what he saw. He chalked it up to late nights working hard, blurring his vision and making him see things, because he thought he saw Viktor, but with the body of a frail woman’s. 

He shook his head and put down his work, maybe going to the gym would help him clear his thoughts. He left the lab as it was since only he and Viktor really visited any longer. He made his way down to the gym to pump iron and forget about it, but nothing helped. He still wondered and worried about Viktor, was he okay? Was he eating enough? Was he sick? Covered in a slick sweat he ended his workouts for the day and went to clean up, Viktor still on his mind. He decided it would be best if he went to visit him again. If he was sick maybe he could make something for him, or acquire some medicine to help.He hoped he’d even be welcomed. 

All the way there his thoughts were in the clouds, wondering if things would be okay. He finally stopped in front of the familiar apartment door, this time keyless. He stood there for a moment wondering if this was the right thing to do. The last time he’d entered he’d found himself invading Viktor’s privacy, though this time he would be announced at least. He took one final sigh before knocking on the door.

Viktor, who had been deep in thought, jumped when he heard the sound. He’d been sitting at a table in the livingroom working on some schematics trying to make sense of them, his coffee long gone cold next to him. 

“Hello? Who is it?” He called out without getting up from the table.

“It’s Jayce” came the reply. 

Viktor’s body stiffened. It had been a couple of days now and he was hiding away in shame. He wasn’t sure he could see him again. 

“I just wanted to see if you’re okay, you are okay right?”, came his voice through the door again.

Viktor grabbed his cane and got up from the table, slowly hobbling over to the door before opening it despite his stomach churning. He looked up at the other man, and saw genuine concern in his face, which stopped him from snapping at him.

“I’m fine. Is that all you came to see?”

“Yeah well, you haven’t been coming to the lab, so I was worried– what do you mean is that all I came to see?”, an eyebrow raised

Viktor cleared his throat, his face a little flushed, he didn’t mean to ask like that. “Nevermind that. I’m fine, I’ve just been working from home on something private” 

“Oh I see. Uhm…well is there anything I can do to help?”

“Private, Jayce”

“Right, sorry”

They stood in the doorway in silence for a little longer, Viktor not knowing what to say to Jayce and Jayce trying to read the man’s mind. What was going on, he wasn’t sick, and he worked on private things in the lab before, it wasn’t such a strange thing to have your own work from time to time. 

“Look, I’m sorry I barged in last time, I swear I didn’t see anything”

Viktor stiffened a little more, and looked away from Jayce once more. “Don’t worry about it…..would you like a cup of tea?” He opened the door a little wider for Jayce to come in. 

“No thank you, Mother should be waiting for me to come home tonight and I don’t want to keep her waiting, I just thought I would check in on you first” 

“....thank you” was all Viktor could muster. 

“I’ll see you at the lab later?” 

“Yeah…”

Jayce then turned away from the door and Viktor watched as he left. He couldn’t help but admire him from the back. He was relieved that their awkward conversation was over, though it could have been worse, and slowly closed the door, locking it behind him before returning to the table. As he sat back down he realized his heart was pounding in his chest. He recalled Jayce saying he didn’t see anything, and he hoped maybe he didn’t, but he was sure he had to have. At least he didn’t seem to want to talk about it in detail.

—-

When Viktor returned to the lab Jayce was already hard at work and undistracted at it as well. He wasn’t even sure that he saw him coming in but instead of saying something he simply pulled on his goggles and began working on his own thing. It was quiet, almost awkwardly so. It wasn’t until Jayce said something that Viktor finally snapped back to reality. “Huh? Can you repeat what you said?”

“Could you hand me that?” Jayce motioned for a tool on a desk nearby.

“Sure” Viktor replied, getting up and grabbing the tool for him. He handed it over and looked over his shoulder at what he was working on. “Looks complicated, do you require any assistance?” 

“That would be fantastic actually, if you look over the schematics we might be able to get this finished today, I think the council will be happy for it” 

Viktor moved to his side and looked over the schematics and with a soft “Hmmm” started to set things up for Jayce so that he could continue working, the next thing lined up for him to grab. It went on like this for quite a while until the project was finished, this was how they liked to work. Neither of them even realized how late it was, or how covered in grease they’d become. Once finished they both stepped back from their newest creation to admire it. 

“This will be great, I hope they accept it” Jayce spoke, wiping away sweat from his forehead and leaving behind a little bit of grease as he did. Viktor couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.

“What? What is it?”

“It’s nothing”

“No it’s not, you’re laughing, what are you laughing at?”

“You just..here let me” Viktor grabbed a clean rag and wiped away at his forehead getting most of the grease. “You had some grease on the back of your hand and wiped it across your forehead” 

“Oh Geez, thanks” he replied, feeling stupid that he’d missed something like that.

“No problem. When do you think you’ll present this?”

“Tomorrow hopefully” 

They both looked at the time, it was already tomorrow. They looked back up at each other and laughed, it wasn’t the first or the last time they’d worked all night into the morning. The laughter echoed a little in the lab and Viktor felt like there was a warmth along with it.

“Let's get out of here and get some proper rest then shall we?” Viktor spoke and Jayce nodded in agreement. 

Viktor was happy for another day in the lab, the awkwardness faded as they worked and he seemed to forget what he was feeling awkward about in the first place. He and Jayce both left the lab and went their separate ways. 

In the morning they returned bright and early, Jayce yawning loudly as Viktor put on a pot of coffee to hopefully kickstart their day. He felt like he’d gotten a good nights rest for once, and so did Jayce, but the warm beverage would still be more than welcomed.

Jayce went straight away to the finished project, admiring it from a slight distance. He was sure the council would approve of it and maybe continue funding their projects, or at least that was the hope. Viktor watched from the little kitchenette in their lab as Jayce stood there, hands on his hips. He had some really nice hips, he caught himself thinking, but quickly shook his head and busied himself with finding some clean mugs.Once the coffee was brewed he poured two cups, one for himself and one for Jayce of course, and brought it over to him.

“Here, careful it’s hot”, he said as he handed Jayce his mug.

“Thank you!” Jayce replied, almost immediately taking a sip of the piping hot beverage. Viktor just watched in amazement at how the other didn’t seem to notice the temperature. He looked down at his own coffee and decided it wasn’t worth trying to do the same and began to softly blow on it. They stood in silence together for a moment before Jayce set his mug down on a nearby surface. 

“Well…I should probably ready up for this meeting, they’ll want a demonstration I’m sure”, he spoke suddenly cutting the silence.

“Mmm”, Viktor replied, mid-sip of his coffee and took it as his cue to let the other do his own thing and get on to his own projects. He could hear the other busying himself as he limped away to away to the other side of the lab. He loved that about Jayce, the way he was committed to everything in the laboratory was really commendable. It was an added benefit that he had more social status than he did as well and was willing to attend all sorts of meetings or parties. It wasn’t much Viktor’s style, and he felt Pilover residents all seemed to have their noses up in the air over anyone who wasn’t from there, even if they seemed to be the sweetest of people. So he didn’t often strike up conversation and he’d gotten a reputation as being the quiet of the two scientists. 

Jayce finished getting ready and took his project with him as he left, leaving Viktor once more to the silence of their lab.

—-

Hours after, Jayce returned to the lab looking flushed and happy. “guess what?!” He spoke exictedly and a little loudly. 

Viktor stopped working and raised his goggles feom his eyes as well as an eyebrow, “what? Im guessing good news?”

“Great news! They loved it!! And they are willing to keep paying us for another 6 months!” 

“That is great news indeed! Congratulations Jayce”

“I couldnt have done it without your help” Jayce replied quickly as he started making his way closer to Viktor. “So thank YOU” 

Viktor smiled up at him before realizing he was getting a little closer than usual. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, ive just been thinking lately…”

“That IS a big part of our job” Viktor laughed a little but then Jayce put a hand over his. 

“S-sorry was that not funny?” Viktor asked, removing his hand from under the others but Jayce didnt move away. “Jay?” 

Viktor started to stand when Jayce moved in closer pinning him to the edge of his desk. “Jayce what are you doing?” 

“Being honest with myself for once” Jayce finally spoke as he put a hand on Viktors hip, partly steadying the other but mostly just to touch him. Viktor couldnt help but tense up a little bit at the touch. 

“What do you mean?” Viktor continued, his cheeks beginning to flush. 

“I cant keep playing pretend about how i feel about you Viktor”, Jayce’s grip became a little firmer. “I want you” 

“Theres no way we’d work together” Viktor exclaimed, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Were too different you and i, especially me” 

“It doesn’t mean a thing to me if you’re different” Jayce spoke softly to Viktor, his hand cupping his face. 

“Youre just saying that” Viktor replied, “ you wouldnt even begin to understand the differences we own”

“Then indulge me” 

“Why me?” 

“Why not you?” Jayce paused after giving the other some space, “ you’re incredibly handsome and talented not to mention a genius”

Viktors face flushed a little bit, still unable to make eye contact with the other 

“Why wont you look at me?” Jayce spoke softly and Viktor glanced back at him. Both of them reddish in the face. 

“…Jayce youre drunk-“

“I am not entirely drunk but i have had a few drinks tonight, to celebrate if course” he started backing away from the other but stopped, “can i just..can i kiss you?” 

It threw Viktor off. He didnt expect a question like this from Jayce and they sat in silence before Viktor gave a small nod. Jayce split into a wide smile before slowly closing the gap between them, grabbing Viktors chin gently and lifting it as hed still been looking away from him. 

The kiss was gentle, and Viktor felt his entire body get hot before melting against the other. After a moment Jayce pulled away, “was that okay?” 

All Viktor could do was nod back. He was breathless, and he wanted more. If a kiss was all it took to make up his mind on how he felt about the other then that was it. He leaned up, balancing on his crutch and toes to give Jayce another kiss to which the taller man wrapped his arms around Viktors waist pulling him in. There was a loud thwack as Viktors cane hit the ground but they both ignored it, instead opting to making out instead. 

Jayce pushed Viktor up onto the table behind him and Viktor gasped a little before they dove back to each others mouths. A moment later they were both gasping for air and then Jayce did another unexpected action, moving Viktors collar to the side before sucking at his neck.

“Aahhh” Viktor whimpered, he never knew this could feel so nice or how much he wanted it. He could feel his gut tighten with arousal the more the other kissed at him. Jayce took the others whimpers as permission to continue and started to feel the other up a little as well starting at his hips and moving up. It wasnt until hed gotten to Viktors chest that he hesitated, noticing Viktor go a little stiff at the others touch. “Is everything okay?” 

“Y-yeah, ah uhm how do i say this” 

Jayce paused and looked down at the other waiting for him to speak. 

“Jayce im different from you” 

“You said that already, but what do you mean?” 

Viktor began unbuttoning the top of his shirt just enough for his binder to be shown. Jayce thought this was just another brace however. “Yeah i know you wear things for accessibility”

“No its not- “ he sighed, “its a binder Jayce” 

“A binder?”

“For my breasts” Viktor finally spelled it out for him. 

Jayce stepped back just a little, taking in the information. 

“Wait…does this mean-“

“It means im trans Jayce. Im not a real man..”

“Who said you werent?” 

“I- well, most of society”

“Youre just as much a man as i am, regardless of your body. Is this what you meant by differences?” 

“That and my disabilities in general” Viktor sighed, but was happy Jayce didnt seem to be grossed out by the new information. 

“Disabled or not youre not a broken person, youre perfect” Jayce spoke with confidence. 

“Thank you..” 

“So does this mean youll go out with me?” Jayce asked, surprising the older man again. 

“Can i think about it?” Viktor spoke softly not wanting to upset the other.

Jayce just smiled, nodded and gave a kiss on his forehead

—

[More to come]

[1mnshw]

a very risky gamble // s.r.

words - 3.1k

spencer reid x female oc

type of fic: enemies to lovers

SSA Vivienne Harper is pulled into a grisly cult case with the BAU, but the real challenge isn’t the killers—it’s working with Spencer Reid, the brilliant profiler she swore she’d never deal with again. As the body count rises and buried tensions flare, Vivienne must outsmart a deadly cult while facing a past that refuses to stay buried.

— — — — — — — — —

one

Ever since Vivienne was young, she’d always loved silence. It wasn’t a disdain for noise—when you grew up in New York, the chaos of the city became less a nuisance and more a constant, unshakable rhythm of life. No, it was something else. Silence felt like clarity, like the space where she could fully let go and breathe. Just her and the low hum of the open air.

She’d say, by rough estimate, she got about three minutes of it that morning. Three whole minutes from the time she walked into the building until Julian Mercer knocked on her office door.

“Harper, we need to talk. Got a minute?”

He barged in without waiting for an answer, already settling into the chair opposite her desk. That was Julian Mercer for you—patience wasn’t part of his vocabulary. It always seemed like he had too much on his plate to bother with niceties, which, given that he oversaw one of the busiest FBI field offices in the country, wasn’t far from the truth.

He tossed a thick file onto her desk with a thud, the kind of file that could probably double as a weapon in several states.

“Young boy, fourteen. Found dead near the Capitol.”

“Good morning to you too, Mercer,” Vivienne said dryly, flipping open the folder. The photos inside were grim—grimmer than most cases she’d handled recently. “Vocal folds removed post-mortem?”

“Yes. Look at the next picture.”

Vivienne frowned, but when she turned the page, her stomach sank. Carved into the victims’ chests was a symbol she recognized instantly.

An eye, its pupil cradling a dove, with the crescent moon underneath. The design was as intricate as it was chilling. She didn’t have to think twice to know what it meant.

She tried to steady her voice when she spoke, but it came out rougher than she intended. “They’re back?”

“They’re back,” Julian echoed grimly, his tone heavy with unspoken implications. “And this is just the beginning. Which is why the brass wants us to collaborate.”

Vivienne narrowed her eyes at him. “Collaborate?”

“With the BAU in Quantico.” He clasped his hands together and leaned forward slightly. “Now, you know we don’t have the manpower to send a full team down there, and I have to stay here and keep things running…”

He trailed off, gesturing vaguely as if Vivienne was supposed to pick up on the rest. When she didn’t, he sighed.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his seat, “the Bureau told me to pick my best agent. After I sent them and the BAU unit chief your file, they were both thoroughly impressed. You’re going down there as a temporary member to help solve this case.”

“Julian, what?”

“You heard me, Harper. You’re going to assist the BAU on this case in Quantico. This is a huge opportunity, and you should accept it as a compliment. I—”

She cut him off. “Respectfully, I decline. This is ridiculous. Mercer, you need me here, not in Virginia.” She slid the file back across the desk toward him. “There are cases in this city—my city—that need my attention. People here need my help.”

Julian didn’t flinch. He slid the folder right back to her, his movements deliberate, almost dismissive. “Respectfully, Vivienne,” he said as he stood, leveling her with a steely gaze, “this isn’t a choice; it’s a requirement. This is part of your job, and unless you’d like to explore other career opportunities, I suggest you go home, pack your things, and prepare to leave. They sent their jet here, and it leaves in two hours.”

The click of her office door as he left echoed louder than Vivienne wanted to admit. She let out a frustrated groan, raking her hands through her hair. Damn it.

It wasn’t that she didn’t see the stakes. She understood the gravity of the case—better than anyone, probably. But to drag her out of New York to work with a team she had no connection with, in a city she hadn’t lived in since she trained at the academy? It felt like a waste of time and resources. Still, trying to argue with Mercer was like trying to move a mountain with a teaspoon. The man wasn’t going to budge.

So she sighed, grabbed the file in front of her and her keys, and left. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel the whole way home, the weight of inevitability settling over her like a heavy blanket. By the time she reached her apartment, she was already halfway resigned.

— — —

She arrived at the airstrip ten minutes early, her fingers gripping the handle of her suitcase as she approached the jet waiting on the tarmac. She paused at the edge of the catwalk, staring up at the sleek private plane. It gleamed in the dim light of the overcast afternoon, all polished steel and understated power.

Julian’s words echoed in her head. This is a huge opportunity. Begrudgingly, Vivienne admitted he wasn’t wrong—neither he nor the brass were the type to blow smoke up your ass, no matter how bad the situation was. If they wanted her on this case, they believed she’d bring something to the table.

Still, a small, defiant part of her wanted to resent the whole situation.

Nonetheless, she sent Julian a quick text.

Thank you.

He responded quickly, which was a surprise.

Don’t make me regret it.

Vivienne smiled as she drew a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and climbed the stairs, her heels clicking against the metal steps. As she stepped into the cabin, she had to admit—despite herself—it wasn’t half bad.

In fact, it was ridiculous. Luxurious leather seats, polished wood paneling, and enough legroom to stretch out comfortably made it clear: the BAU was in a different league. This wasn’t just a jet; it was a statement.

She dropped her suitcase near one of the seats, brushing her fingers over the armrest. “Well,” she muttered under her breath, “this almost makes up for being yanked out of the city.”

Almost.

It was hard not to imagine what her own department could do with the kind of budget that paid for this. She sank into one of the seats, the plush leather cushioning her in a way that was almost absurdly comfortable. Her gaze wandered to the large windows, offering a view of the jet engines gleaming in the muted light. For the first time since Mercer had dropped this bombshell, she felt a flicker of something unexpected—curiosity. The BAU wasn’t just any unit; it was the kind of team agents dreamed about joining. Legends in their own right. Maybe—just maybe—there was something to be gained from this after all.

As the engines hummed to life, Vivienne let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The soft vibration under her feet grounded her, and she allowed herself a small, wry smile. Quantico wasn’t home, and she wasn’t thrilled about leaving New York, but there was a certain thrill in the unknown. Working alongside a team like this, tackling a case that would undoubtedly be challenging and grim, was the kind of puzzle she’d secretly always craved. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe she could make this work.

— — —

Hotch led her through the bustling halls of the BAU with his usual no-nonsense efficiency. Agents moved with purpose around them, their conversations blending into a low hum of activity. The building’s atmosphere was different from her office in New York—less chaotic, more deliberate.

“You’ll find we operate a little differently here,” Hotch said as they approached the stairs. “This team is small but specialized. Everyone brings a unique skill set to the table, and we rely on that dynamic to tackle these cases. Our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, will be meeting you later on. She’s on her way in.”

Vivienne nodded, adjusting the strap of her bag. “Understood. I’ve read up on the unit’s case history—it’s impressive. I’m looking forward to seeing the team in action.”

Hotch glanced at her, his expression giving nothing away. “They’re looking forward to meeting you. We’ve had to operate shorthanded on cases like this before. Having another experienced profiler will be an asset.”

She followed him up the stairs, the quiet intensity of his words not lost on her. It wasn’t a glowing welcome, but she wasn’t expecting one. Hotch struck her as the kind of leader who spoke through action, not words.

When they reached the bullpen, the space was alive with the low buzz of conversation and the shuffle of papers. A conference room off to the side was lit, the walls lined with evidence boards, but the team had gathered near the center of the room.

“Everyone,” Hotch began, his voice cutting cleanly through the ambient noise, “this is Agent Vivienne Harper. She’s joining us from the New York City field office to assist on this case.”

All eyes turned toward her, and she instinctively straightened her posture. Hotch stepped aside, gesturing toward each member of the team as he introduced them.

“Derek Morgan,” Hotch started, motioning toward the tall man leaning casually against a desk. “He’s our tactical expert and one of the best at getting into the minds of offenders.”

Morgan grinned, stepping forward to shake her hand. “Welcome to the team, Harper. You ready for the big leagues?”

Vivienne raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Big leagues? That what they call it when you’ve got a coffee machine that actually works?”

Morgan chuckled, crossing his arms. “Oh, I like her already.”

Hotch moved on, ignoring the exchange. “Emily Prentiss,” he said, indicating the dark-haired woman beside Morgan. Emily stepped forward, her smile warm but confident. “It’s nice to have another profiler on board. You’ll find we don’t bite. Well, most of us.”

“Good to know,” Vivienne replied, shaking her hand. “I’ll keep my guard up, just in case.”

“Jennifer Jareau,” Hotch continued, pointing to the blonde woman who stood next to an evidence board, clipboard in hand. “She’s our communications liaison and media coordinator.”

JJ smiled, offering a handshake. “You can call me JJ. Don’t worry—we’ll ease you in.”

“I appreciate that,” Vivienne said. “Just don’t expect me to smile for the cameras.”

JJ laughed. “Noted.”

“David Rossi,” Hotch said, turning toward the older man seated at a desk with a cup of coffee in hand. “He’s one of the founding members of the unit and brings decades of experience to the team.”

Rossi set down his mug, offering a polite nod. “Welcome, Agent Harper. Don’t let the chaos fool you—we’re very organized. Usually.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Vivienne said, chuckling.

“And this is Dr.—“ The man standing behind the group stepped forward and cut Hotch’s introduction short.

“Vi.”

Vivienne’s pulse spiked. She hadn’t heard that nickname in years, not since the academy. The only person who ever called her that was—

“Spence.” They stared each other down, and the intensity on both of their faces was enough to silence the rest of the team.

Hotch cleared his throat and attempted to break the tension in the room. “You two have met?”

Spencer spoke, not breaking eye contact with Vivienne. “We met when we were both in training.”

“How long has it been? Five, six years?”

“Five years, seven months, and seventeen days. Not nearly long enough.”

“Clearly.”

Hotch’s sharp tone sliced through the thick tension. “That’s enough,” he said, stepping forward slightly as though positioning himself between them. His gaze flicked between Spencer and Vivienne, calm but commanding. “Whatever history you two have, leave it outside this office. Understood?”

Vivienne forced herself to look away from Spencer and nodded, her jaw tightening. “Understood.”

Spencer’s response was quieter but no less resolute. “Understood.”

Morgan, sensing the shift in energy, gave a small grin, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, this just got interesting. You sure you’re not gonna need a referee for this, Hotch?”

Hotch shot him a sharp look, and Morgan immediately quieted, but not before muttering, “Alright, alright, just checking.”

“Everyone, back to work,” Hotch continued, voice firm. “JJ, you and Prentiss check with Garcia on potential connections with the cult. Morgan, I need you and Harper to finalize the timeline. Reid, go over the backgrounds with Rossi.”

The team scattered, but before they all went to take care of their respective tasks, Spencer stopped Vivienne.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was low and edged with irritation, the same tone that used to make her blood boil. Judging by the sharp look in his eyes, he was just as annoyed by her presence as she was by his.

Vivienne let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes. “Oh, you know, just building a damn rocket, Spencer. What do you think I’m doing? I’m here to work. The Bureau sent me, just like they sent you. Hate to break it to you, but you’re not the only golden agent of the FBI.”

His eyes narrowed, a glint of sharp disbelief flickering in them. “Yes, I’m aware, Vi. I just didn’t expect you to be the ‘highly regarded’ New York agent Hotch and Mercer have been raving about. Though, now that I think about it, I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m sure you’re still the same reckless person you’ve always been.”

Vivienne squared her shoulders, the old nickname lighting a familiar spark of irritation. “First of all, I told you to stop calling me that. It’s Vivienne—but I guess listening isn’t exactly your strong suit. Second of all, I’m sure you haven’t changed much either. Still hiding behind your precious facts and statistics, clinging to your spreadsheets like a lifeline, instead of actually doing something out in the field?”

Spencer's jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like he might actually snap back—something he rarely did. Instead, he straightened his posture and fixed her with a cool, unwavering stare.

“Facts and statistics save lives, Vivienne,” he said, his voice calm but laced with steel. “But I wouldn’t expect you to understand that. You’ve always been more comfortable charging in headfirst and hoping your instincts will catch you. And hey, maybe they do sometimes, but how many people have you put at risk with that reckless approach?”.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Vivienne shot back, crossing her arms. “I didn’t realize we were measuring success by how many textbooks you can memorize in a week. But sure, go ahead, Spencer. Quote me some studies about how I’m doing my job wrong. That’s so much more helpful than actually, you know, doing the job.”

His lips twitched, almost like he was biting back a smile—or maybe a smirk.

“At least I don’t need to prove I’m the smartest person in the room,” he said. “Some of us let our work speak for itself.”

Vivienne started to respond, but Morgan cut in between them, a playful glint in his eyes. “You with me, Harper?”

Vivienne gave him a quick nod and followed him over to the other side of the room, but not before giving Spencer one last glance.

Spencer plopped down next to a stack of case files, flipping through them as he glanced over at Vivienne. After he handed her half the stack, he spoke. “Alright, I’ll bite.”

“I feel like what you’re about to say isn’t going to be about my undeniable expertise and sharp wit,” Vivienne said dryly.

He laughed, but shook his head. “We’ll get to that later. You and Reid, what’s the deal?”

Vivienne shot him a glare, groaning. “Come on, Morgan. Can’t you ask me about anything else?”

“I get it, it’s just— I’ve known the guy forever. He’s usually so calm, and I can probably count the amount of times I’ve seen him mad on one hand. But all of a sudden you show up, and all that gets flipped on its head. I’m not complaining, it’s pretty entertaining to watch,” he laughed, and Vivienne rolled her eyes. “Obviously something happened.”

Vivienne raised her eyebrows at him, smiling. “If you think it’s entertaining, you’re the only one.”

“Maybe,” Morgan said with a grin, leaning back casually in his chair. “I’m just intrigued.”

Morgan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, clearly waiting for some juicy tidbit. Vivienne stared at him for a beat, then sighed, knowing he wouldn’t drop it until she threw him a bone.

“Fine,” she said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “Reid and I met at the Academy. We didn’t exactly… get along.”

Morgan raised a brow, his grin widening. “Didn’t get along? That’s an understatement, judging by the way you two were about to throw punches back there.”

Vivienne smirked. “We were competitive, okay? He thought he was smarter than everyone, and I wasn’t about to let him walk around like he was the second coming of Einstein.”

“Let me guess,” Morgan cut in, “you made it your personal mission to knock him down a peg?”

“More like a few pegs,” Vivienne admitted with a shrug.

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. “So that’s it? Just a couple of old rivals butting heads again?”

Vivienne hesitated, her eyes flickering across the room to where Spencer was sitting. “Something like that. It doesn’t matter. We’re here to work a case, not revisit ancient history.”

“Fair enough,” he said, though the glint of curiosity in his eyes didn’t fade entirely. He stood, grabbing the case files and flashing Vivienne a knowing grin.

“Come on, let’s get back to work before Hotch wonders why we’re sitting around gossiping.”

Morgan’s grin lingered as he moved toward the evidence boards, carrying a stack of case files under one arm. Vivienne grabbed her half of the pile and followed, letting his easy demeanor chip away at the irritation still simmering in her chest.

The bullpen was alive with the hum of focused activity. Agents moved between desks, flipping through files, pinning photos and diagrams to the walls, and mapping out connections. This was a team at its peak—efficient, driven, and unified. And now, whether Vivienne liked it or not, she was part of it.

Morgan dropped his files on the table with a dramatic thud, flashing Vivienne another teasing grin. “Alright, Harper, let’s see if that New York expertise can keep up.”

“Oh, please.” Vivienne smirked, pulling out a chair. “You’re about to get schooled, Morgan.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “We’ll see about that.”

As they delved into the files, the tension faded, replaced by the steady rhythm of collaboration. For now, the case took precedence, and Vivienne was more than ready to prove that she belonged here.

— — — — — — — — —

hi! hope u liked this. this is ch1 of many, and i'll be cross-posting on a03 once i hit 3 chapters if u prefer that format!! this is my christmas gift, from me to you. love ya!

(p.s. i imagine s6/7 spencer in this, and this will be when the fic is set, but we will be 👀overlooking the ENTIRE plot of emilys death. bless!)

[fourthavecafe]

hello! Happy late thanksgiving! And I was wondering if you could do a hxh with kurupika x spider reader where like he is fighting them and he finds out they’re ticklish and like tickles them until they give up the fight and maybe like information too or something! Anyway I hope you have a wonderful morning/afternoon/night!

kurapika using an effective technique to get information out of you

You sat in the corner of a room, wrists bound tightly above you with Kurapika’s chains. You’d been careless, too confident in your abilities as a member of the Phantom Troupe.

Now, here you were, the captured prey of someone whose hatred for your comrades burned like an unquenchable fire.

Kurapika leaned against the wall opposite you, his eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. The air was thick with tension, his gaze unyielding as it bore into you.

“I want information about the other Spiders” he said, his voice calm but laced with steel.

You scoffed, masking your fear with defiance. “You think I’d betray the Troupe? Kill me now if that’s what you’re after because you’re not getting anything out of me.”

Kurapika tilted his head slightly, as if considering your words. He didn’t respond immediately and the silence stretched uncomfortably.

“I expected as much” he finally said, his tone still infuriatingly composed. He crossed his arms, his chains clinking softly with the movement. “But everyone has their limits.”

You shifted, testing the strength of the chains around your wrists. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t budge. His nen-infused restraints held you firmly and every attempt to break free only served to tighten them further.

“Go ahead” you spat. “Torture me, beat me—do whatever you want. I’ll never betray my family.”

Kurapika gave a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Torture? You think I’m going to waste time breaking bones and spilling blood? No, I have other methods.”

You narrowed your eyes, unsure of what he meant. He crouched in front of you, close enough that you could feel the oppressive weight of his nen but still out of reach.

“I’ve done my research on you” he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “You like to keep your past buried, don’t you? Pretend that you’re nothing but a loyal Spider, when in reality…” He trailed off, letting his words hang in the air.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. What was he talking about? You kept your composure but inside, panic began to creep in.

“Don’t act like you don’t know” he continued, his gaze piercing. “The village you left behind. The people you abandoned. Should I name names?”

“Shut up” you hissed but your voice lacked its usual venom.

He smirked, clearly sensing the crack in your armor. “Ah, so I’m onto something. Good.”

You clenched your teeth, trying to keep your breathing steady. You couldn’t let him get to you.

“Still not ready to talk?” Kurapika asked, his tone almost conversational now. He leaned closer, his face inches from yours. “Fine. Let’s try something different.”

Before you could react, his hands darted toward your sides, fingers brushing against your ribs.

“W-what are you doing?” you stammered, trying to squirm away but the chains held you firmly in place.

Kurapika didn’t answer. Instead, his fingers began to move deliberately, tracing over the sensitive spots just beneath your arms. The sensation was light at first, almost teasing but it quickly grew unbearable.

You bit your lip, refusing to let out a sound but your body betrayed you. Your shoulders twitched involuntarily and a strangled laugh escaped before you could stop it.

“Interesting” Kurapika mused, his voice annoyingly calm. “I didn’t think someone like you would have such a weakness.”

“S-stop!” you managed to gasp, twisting against the chains as he continued his relentless assault.

“Oh, I will” he said, his lips curling into a smirk. “As soon as you start talking.”

“I’m not—” Your words dissolved into helpless laughter as his fingers danced along your ribs, exploring every ticklish spot with precision. It was infuriating, humiliating, and utterly effective.

Kurapika’s expression remained neutral but there was a hint of satisfaction in his eyes as he watched you squirm. “Tell me about the Troupe” he said, his tone soft but insistent. “Names, locations, plans. The more you resist, the longer this goes on.”

You shook your head furiously, tears streaming down your face from the effort of holding back your laughter. “N-never!”

He sighed, almost as if he pitied you. “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that. But everyone has their breaking point.”

With that, he shifted his focus, targeting the sensitive hollows of your armpits. You yelped, unable to hold back the uncontrollable laughter that burst from your lips.

“S-stop it!” you cried, thrashing as much as the chains allowed. “You’re insane!”

“Perhaps” Kurapika said coolly, not pausing for a moment. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to avenge my people. Even if it means breaking you like this.”

Your laughter echoed through the room, loud and unrestrained. You hated how easily he had reduced you to this state, hated how powerless you felt under his touch.

“I… I don’t know anything!” you lied, hoping to end this torment.

Kurapika paused, his fingers hovering over your sides. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” you gasped, seizing the brief reprieve to catch your breath.

He studied you for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

Before you could protest, he resumed his attack, this time alternating between your ribs and your armpits with maddening precision.

“Alright! Alright!” you finally screamed, unable to take it anymore. “I’ll talk! Just stop!”

Kurapika immediately withdrew his hands, his expression returning to its usual seriousness. “Good”he said, straightening up. “I’m listening.”

You glared at him, still catching your breath. “I’ll tell you what I know but you leave my past out of this. Got it?”

“Agreed” Kurapika said, though the glint in his eyes told you he’d already won this round.

As you began to speak, your heart heavy with guilt, you couldn’t help but wonder how someone so composed could resort to such unconventional methods. One thing was certain: you’d never underestimate him again.

[buubonita]

budbonita. fellow horrortale connoisseur. opinions on the horrortale game that came out this jolly holly eve,,,,,,, me personally i am very calm and relaxed (eye twitch) 🙂

Hello, Tryglybud! Its good to see you again in my ask box :3c okay lets het to the point shall we?

THERE IS SPOILERS ON THIS, so have that on mind before READING!!!

WARNING FOR child death mention, decapitation mention.

That said (rubs my little fly hands)

If there's one thing I really liked about Horrortale is that SAS takes elements from the original game and re-routes them to fit the story. The charm of Horrortale is that it's precisely an alternate timeline that you can believe will happen without problems. A neutral route that turns into the living hell of monsters.

Anyway, now to point out the little things I liked.

The dark twist of Sans' Iceezs puzzle! In the original the joke is that you can't find any of the words that are written (the fucking puzzle is not doing the puzzle if you want to pass it. It's literally doing nothing lol) but here you literally HAVE to find the words to advance. I found it funny because if you've played UT your first instinctive action is to do nothing! It's like that Papyrus puzzle and the colored tiles that you don't expect to be relevant and then it turns out that it was! Just cute, thanks SAS.

The music! the overall atmosphere is super eerie and ominous, the opening song for waterfall is simple and sounds like still water. It gives you the feeling that you're in dead ground. Like the genocidal route in waterfall and its theme, but again, SAS USES the game's foundations and directs them into their own story YYYYYY OUAGHAHA I LOVE IT! Do you think Aliza inhales the dust in the air while walking?

Goner Kid!'s dialogue is literally a reversal of what one of Gaster's followers says about living in a world where everything is exactly the same but you don't exist in it. In this case, SAS AGAIN redirects and gives new meaning to phrases and details from the game for Horrortale.

The underground would probably have been saved if Sans didn't exist, that is, if Sans had decided to die for all of them! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHH I'M REALLY SMILING LIKE A LUNATIC. I love, LOVE the importance SAS gives to the source material considering Horrortale is a timeline and not an AU! It adds another layer of depth and reinforces the plot a lot; you who played the game and knew the story and grew fond of these characters are now witnessing the suffering that YOU as a player caused in one of your games!

Onion san submerged in that pit of black water was scary, I really expected him to come out of there to kill me when I first saw him (and I wanted that to happen, for him to jump out and kill us why not? >:3). His exchange with Aliza is sweet and adorable considering how scary he managed to look at the beginning haha. Horrortale is still a sad story even though it has scary elements.

The painting on the wall of waterfall reminded me of that thing Alphys created to rip out Horror's magic eye, although the description says it seems to be from a creature. It's probably ambiguous on purpose.

Aliza's deaths are brutal. I died with River Person for the first time and I felt bad for Aliza, poor thing was stripped down to the bone! A gruesome death. The rabid Temmies! I loved that they were included, their dialogue is simple but works well and feels in character. She was decapitated, MY POOR GIRL! Devored, impaled, drowned, this girl wont stop going through the most horrorific DEATHS!

And that's another thing with Horrortale, they all feel in character just like their original versions! Sans is still a joker, only his psychosis has made him more violent, more sadistic and prone to darker humor (I'd eat Horrortale's little black humor animated shorts with fries). He also keeps the tendency to beat up children, his character is consistent and that's why he's my favorite.

There's such a thick and obvious parallel with Aliza and Horror when he says "how much do you think your life is worth?" I mean, if he's on her case maybe it's because he wasn't in her shoes for long (although Aliza doesn't wear shoes!)

And I'm not saying Killer or Dust aren't, they're also wonderful in their own way but they're maybe very different approaches, but they work (and I love them too, believe me).

My only complaint with this little game is that it's very short once you figure out all the puzzles! But I can't complain when we get more of the comic in JANUARY (my birthday month!!). I look forward to more story and seeing more characters soon. This was a little treat i will treasure with all my heart.

[charleslee-valentine]

Save Some Christmas Cheer

warnings: physical and emotional abuse, hitting, cruelty, drayton sawyer as a warning, one very mild sex joke.

~~~~~~~

Every December, Drayton drives a dinky evergreen out to the gas station and ties it to the sign post, lets the twins come down and fancy it up with some thrifted ornaments and tinsel. Gotta make the place lively.

Thought that would appease their appetite for the festivity afterall. They wasn’t raised with it, not even he had experienced it when they still had Grandpa’s income to throw a holiday off of, so he never figured the boys would be all that interested. Their grandparents thought it best to raise ‘em without that kind of luxury, too much of makin’ spoilt ‘n greedy kids all over. But, them younger brothers of his been growin’ up in the age of radio and now seein’ the rise of television. No hidin’ the spirit from them now.

It’s Nubbins, crouched by the annual gas station tree as he digs through what little they got to adorn it with, evidently disappointed by it, that asks him first, “W-Why can’t we does Chrim-sis a-at home?”

“Used to. Can’t afford it.” Is the simplified brunt Drayton gives him. He’s busy puffin’ on a cigarette and attemptin’ to contain the mess his brothers is makin’ ‘fore it might affect the station’s appearance.

That ain’t satisfactory. Them boys is curious as cats, but with even less sense. Nubbins tilts his head sideways, “How come?”

Drayton flicks the cigarette butt at him and watches it bounce off of Nubbins bony back, leavin’ little glowin’ ashes in its wake. It’s himself who brushes it off ‘fore those can leave burn puckers on the boy’s good jacket, despite the paint and mud on it. But that quick act of caution turns to a whack on the back of his head and a scold quickly, “‘Cause you lot are expensive enough without gettin’ presents or some big fancy meal!!”

“But y-you does it here.” Bobby chimes in for his silenced twin from the other side of the tree. Ornery bastards finishin’ each other’s complaints even.

Drayton straightens himself out when a car drives past, in the case it’d stop, but it whips right past so he marches over to Bobby, “Can’t have my customers thinkin’ I ain’t an honest Christian business man!”

‘Course, Bobby ain’t as punched down as his brothers, or just ain’t well behaved. He snorts at Drayton’s remark, “You ain’t one.”

“I am!” Drayton draws his hand back to swing at Bobby’s face, but Nubbins interrupts with a shout.

“Since when! Y-You doesn’t go to church!”

Now he’s caught in between them and just frozen up with balled fists. Can’t beat ‘em both at once, so he concedes, somewhat, “Don’t need to. The Lord and I handle our business privately.”

Bobby cackles a laugh at somethin’ that ain’t immediately clear, ‘til he shares the joke that lived in his flighty head, “‘Way you said that m-makes it sound like you and J-Jesus is been bumpin’ nasties!”

A year in the service was plenty enough to break down the values Drayton instilled in his kid brothers, exposin’ horrible nerves he hoped would never have to be plucked with ‘em. They was all to be kept in the dark of certain ways, but then them military boys taught Robert all the sins in the book, and he just had to come home and share the news. Lucky they don’t got a clue what the hell he's talkin’ when he starts up, but as Drayton would like to keep it that way, despite the hiccups, that’s one matter that ain’t never go unpunished.

Bobby gets a sharp whack across his face, and another to his back when he hunches over, “Watch your mouth around your brother, damn it!!”

“Owww!” He whines all overplayed and obnoxious. Givin’ Drayton a damned headache already. So he gets a kick to his calf and falls to that knee.

“Then behave yourself!” Drayton warns, looming over, “Actin’ like none of you ever grew up! If there were such a thing as Christmas in this family, you boys wouldn’t deserve a damn thing!”

Nubbins scrunches his face, confusion and judgement and frustration tied together, “Why would we b-be good if we ain’t go-gonna get presents a-anyway?”

Bobby, rubbin’ the hand mark that’s making its way to his pale cheek, slowly rising to his feet again, agrees, always agrees with Nubbins, “Yeah! I-I-If you was ever nice to us, we'd be- be good!”

That one sentence sits heavy in Drayton’s bones all day and night. For the next week it just plays over and over in his head, thinkin’ ‘bout how he’d failed them kids. Christmas be damned, all year round, for the last forty some years they been here, he ain’t never been kind. Their mama was his lousy mama and their papa walked out. He had to be the parent all along.

To his knowledge, it wasn’t natural to be soft on ‘em. Gotta raise ‘em with a firm hand and all. And Bobby’s right he ain’t no church goin’ man, but he knows you ain’t s’posed to spare the rod. Nobody ever spared him none, pickin’ switches out the bushes and takin’ his beatins.

So then, why’s guilt stickin’ to him so bad just cause the boys said they act out ‘cause of his choices. Why’s he know it’s right, that they ain’t been showed enough mercy and kindness to practice it.

They cut into another corpse at supper, and he knows this is all his fault, and suddenly the meat tastes a lot less like pork, and a lot more like an elderly couple or a mother down the road. Lord, he’s damned them all to Hell. No guardin’ them from sin could change that, ‘cause they was born to it, raised with blood under their nails before they even knew what love was. Somethin’ they prob’ly still don’t know.

He’s gone quiet again, though he tries to focus on workin’ ‘stead of thinkin’, peelin’ potatoes to go with roast school teacher out in the kitchen, when he gets ambushed. Confronted again by the reality he caused.

“Hey! H-Hey cook, what’chya cook?” It’s an innocent question from Bobby, but Drayton’s so deep in his own remorse he can’t gather an intelligible response.

With Drayton being so tense lately, the boys have caught on. Nubbins catches up to his twin and immediately scolds him for bein’ a bother, “Bobby, ya stupid, d-don’t call ‘im cook no more!”

“Oh yeh. F-Forgot he won’t feed us n-no more ‘til we p-‘preciate ‘im.” Bobby repeats Drayton’s reasoning for the last beating they got, with monotone sarcasm, and a whispered comment tacked on the end, rolls his eyes and pouts, “Stupid rule if ya ask me.”

“N-Nobody did asked you!!” Nubbins counters, the hunch of his shoulders anxious but the crone of his voice angry. All on edge.

They make to start a slapping fight, drawing back and all, Bobby yelling after a second to stew on his answer, “Shut up!”

All the ruckus is more than familiar in this house, but when the boys accidentally smash into the kitchen door, banging the brass knob into the plaster, it causes Drayton to startle. The knife in his hand slips across his fingertips and suddenly he’s bleedin’ all over the potatoes m.

“That’s enough!” He shouts his throat raw on just the one command, both twins whipping their heads around to stare with wide eyes. With their attention, he gives them another order. A heavy sigh out of his nose and he’s able to speak a little more clearly to bark the next order, “Go set the damn table.”

Both boys are trippin’ over each other to get the dishes and glasses for supper, before splittin’ up to do different tasks. Drayton meanwhile has to either salvage what’s left of the non-bloody potatoes or forget about it entirely. Guess it wouldn’t be such a big deal to feed ‘em contaminated food, but lord only knows what’s in his blood after all these years. Might end up givin’ the boys a nicotine addiction like himself.

He scraps it all instead. Trashes good food. If he weren’t so out of his mind with regret he’d be beatin’ them twins within an inch of their lives. Lord knows they deserve it.

And yet, he sits down to half a supper and murmurs in good spirits, “Been thinkin’.”

The twins, Nubbins next to him and Bobby at the end of the table, exchange a look. Nubbins snickers, “Th-That ain’t n-never good.”

Drayton does his best not to boil over with anger already, glaring with disappointment at them, “Guess you don’t wanna hear the good news then?”

“You lyin’. You don’t never got g-good news.” Bobby snarks, givin’ another heavy eye roll.

“Since y’all was askin’ up on Christmas I just thought- but oh, no.. no. You’re right, this cain’t possibly be good news.” Giving a dramatic sigh, Drayton plays the manipulation game to get them on their best behavior, in part so his frustration can cool off.

“What?” Nubbins probes, but Drayton stays firm and just shakes his head. So he presses again, fiddling with his hands, “W-What? Tell us!”

Both twins start chanting asking to be told, rallying their little brother into their obnoxious repetition,

“Bubba you tell ‘im too!”

Now Bubba is squealing like a downright hog, too much noise at the supper table that ain’t caused by some wailing stranger. Drayton covers his ears.

“I’ll change my mind!” That threat makes them all go quiet, so dead set on hearing the good news they aren’t willing to risk the chance. Drayton sighs and shrinks down, “Figured there wouldn’t be no hurt in ‘llowin’ y’all to make pretend like it’s Christmas. Don’t think y’all gonna get nothin’ special now, but I ain’t past lettin’ y’all put up a tree or two in the fields.”

“And l-let us watch a Christmas movie?” Bobby demands.

Drayton is skeptical, narrowing his eyes, “How the hell you gonna do that when we ain’t got a television? You fixin’ to pay for it?”

Bobby shakes his head, long wig hairs flying side to side over his face, “Nah. B-But I still knows how to drive. I-I can take us to a real theater.”

That sounds like his own worst nightmare. Drayton scolds the thought, slamming a hand down, “Hell no! I ain’t lettin’ you run off in charge of your brothers!”

That seems to have been counted on, actually, ‘cause Bobby elbows Nubbins next to him enthusiastically, and smiles all wide, “Then y-you gotta take us. And we get to- to bake stuff and wear funny outfits.”

“How the hell you know so much ‘bout this holiday anyhow?” Drayton narrows his eyes at his brother, don’t see why he’s demandin’ so much.

“Uh, I listen to the radio. D-Duh!” Bobby’s tone implies all kinds of things he ain’t ‘llowed to think, mostly that he finds his older brother dumb and annoying.

He does get punished for that outburst. Might’ve got off easy for the mess in the kitchen, but Drayton won’t ‘llow that kind of back talk ‘round the house. Gave up enough control to let them have a holiday at all, can��t just abandon all order ‘n let the boys behave however they’d like. Would be livin’ in ruin.

And it’s a damn good thing, ‘cause then they’re all three on their best behavior ‘til the 25th, goin’ through Bobby’s informed checklists about how to go along with the big day. Ain’t acted out majorly once.

Only he don’t know that’s ‘cause they’re savin’ up for one big mess up.

In the upstairs hallway, hunched together by the window that starts the nook where Drayton’s room hides, the twins conspire on Christmas morning.

“Who’s gonna do it?” Bobby whispers it, catching up on the plan they made, but maybe just a little nervous.

Nubbins looks at his brother like he said somethin’ in gibberish, “Ain’t you?”

Dragging his brother by the sleeve of his shirt down away from Drayton’s room, Bobby raises his voice, “Hell no, man! H-He gonna kick my ass if I do it!”

“I don’t want b-beat up neither!” Nubbins squeaks back in equal defense.

“You won’t, h-he ain’t mad a-at you yet!” Bobby counters, but his tone ain’t so sure. Can’t hide a thing from his twin.

For all the fighting they do, lookin’ out for each other is the half of it. Pushin’ when the other don’t think it’s a good idea, back ‘n forth ‘til they come up with somethin’ better. Their plan usually ends up shoulderin’ the blame onto someone else.

It’s Nubbins that puts it into motion, “Bubba could- he could do it.”

Bobby thinks hard on it, passing his tongue over his teeth a few times in thought, “That- That’s good. Yeh, cook don’t get m-mad at Bubba so much ‘less he’s really bad.”

His brother agreein’ to his plan makes Nubbins smile big, but it falls fast when a thought occurs to him, “Is wakin’ big brother up counts as r-really bad?”

“We gonna find out!” Bobby slaps his twins’ shoulder excitedly, bolting down to the half-way point on the nearest set of steps and calling down, more than adjusted by now to the amount of noise he can get away with makin’, “Hey, Leatherface! G-Get up here!”

They hear him comin’ ‘fore they see ‘im, bumbling steps creaking each floorboard and stair. Bubba tries to walk on his toes to be quiet, but he’s so big and the house so old there ain’t much hope. Lucky their big brother can sleep through at least some volume.

Nubbins coaxes him up closer, so they can talk quiet, “Bubba, hey, y-you like Chrim-sis too, right?”

‘Course Bubba gets a crooked smile and shakes his head up and down. Been excited as hell every night since big brother announced they was allowed, the only one that ain’t participated in fancyin’ up the gas station for Christmas. Can’t really bring him ‘round there with his masks and all.

They take advantage of that excitement to get him to go along with their scheme, Bobby coaxing, “Right. S-So you wants to give big brother th-the presents we made ‘im?”

Bubba nods again, but it’s less excited. No matter what the twins think, he knows they’re putting him up to somethin’. It’s just a matter of what they’re gonna make him do. But he still doesn’t make a peep when the twins walk him down the hall, though the closer they get to Drayton’s shut door, the fidgetier he gets with his hands.

Right outside, Nubbins yanks the door open and Bobby gives Bubba a hearty shove and an order, “Then get on in there!”

They weren’t strong enough to move their baby brother an inch further into that room with a push, but their persuasion and the Christmas spirit alone could do the task.

Ain’t sure exactly how Bubba chooses to do it, but the twins hear all hell start to break loose and take off running. That’s a part of their plan too. Didn’t figure the old man would wake up too peacefully, so they’s gonna let Bubba lead chase for their little Christmas morning surprise.

Admittedly, they do feel kinda bad ‘bout the few whacks they hear impacting their baby brother on the way, but that’s how it goes. At least Bubba’s size means he’s a hell of a lot faster’n Drayton in stride, makin’ it to the back sittin’ room where they got permission to put the tree up and hidin’ behind the twins long before their red-faced, heavin’ big brother makes it ‘round the corner.

Seeing them all three huddled together, Drayton knows they’re up to something, skidding to a sudden stop, “What the hell is all this now?”

“It’s y-your merry Chrim-sis!” Nubbins informs him while his brothers produce their gift and hand it over.

Drayton turns the gift over and over in his hands but doesn’t say a word. Starts gettin’ the boys a little nervous.

Bobby prompts, sorta anxious and mostly bubbling with excitement, “Ya like it?”

Looking up from the gift like he’s just remembered there’s somebody who give it to him, Drayton’s face shifts from surprise to frustration. “Well let’s see now. It’s a uh… You boys gonna hafta give me a hint here-“

Bobby snatches their gift out of Drayton’s hands so he can hold it out the right way and show Drayton. He explains, “It’s a new suit jacket!! B-Bubba sewded it, ‘an Nubbins got its fabric ‘and buttons and s-stuffs, ‘a-‘an I picked the pattern!”

Understanding, Drayton snatches it back and holds it out for himself, considering the homemade garment plenty before he decides to slip it on. It’s bulky and stiff and one sleeve is a little longer than the other, but once he wears it a few times, it’ll get better. Though he does have one concern, “This made of someone?”

“O-On the inside yeh, b-b-but the outside is a-all sheepy yarn so.. s-so nobody gonna know!” Nubbins explains with all the excitement in the world.

Can’t take the suspense anymore, Bobby asks him again, more loudly, “You-You like it?”

“S’pose I do.” Drayton answers this time, a look of pride in his face as he smoothes the buttons on his new jacket down, “You boys done good.”

Both twins bounce up on the balls of their feet and spin in celebratory circles. One of ‘em or maybe both is gigglin’ their head off, the noise inspiring Bubba to do some excited whining too. They all three clasp hands for a second, confirming their idea was a good one and they did a good job.

It’s Nubbins that pulls away from the celebration because he remembers, “We ain’t in t-trouble for wakin’ you up?”

Drayton gives a sigh, and knows better. Can’t crush their spirits already, on their very first holiday. He lets them off the hook with a false warning, barely any bite to his words, “Not this time- But just this once, now. Y’all know better’n that.”

Maybe it’s old age changin’ him, or maybe the revelation that the boys have so much interest outside of the home these days, in a world so different from the technology void he grew up in. Now they’re full grown and it ain’t the same keepin’ them on a short leash, cain't barely get them to listen. Got him extra quick to beat any kind of acting out clean out of ‘em, knowin’ he can’t handle their rebellion if it grew, but that’s the issue, ain’t it. Outright said themselves that they was actin’ so bad ‘cause he’s been extra cruel to them. Things is gonna change.

Drayton wears the present they made him and lets them have their merry Christmas. Would be a shame to punish ‘em when they already ran to open presents they made or found for one another now, wrapped in tidy little animal hides under the tree. It feels disturbingly normal, to sit on a bone sofa and watch them unveil a skull bone with a watch face stuck in the eye, or a new leather mask painted to resemble an iconic prefered blonde.

There’s no changin’ their ways or the damage of violence he sowed over the last few decades in them, but maybe he can give up a little bit of control to let ‘em have their fun. Just enough. Won’t live in no lawless household, but a happy one wouldn’t be so bad.