#A Very Northern Christmas

[penguinpanic]

The tenth game we played was A Very Northern Christmas by Grant Howitt. Jen ran this christmas special in which a multiverse of Sean Bean's team up to break the curse that results in them dying in every film. It’s fair to say that none of us could do a great Sean Bean impression even with the ‘O2’ on ramp but we sure gave it a go!  

[cestacruz]

Beach time's about to begin!

[galene-gothic]

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗌

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗             PAID SERVICES TIP JAR

CHRISTMAS & NEW YEAR SALE AND OFFERS

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

Trigger warning

Your bare face is gorgeous. I’m not sure why I felt the need to say that but it just came through and I couldn’t ignore it. Your lips are an area of focus in this reading as well. I’m not sure what it is about your lips - it could be that you have naturally pink lips, cupid bow ones or have hyperpigmentation around your lips that make it look like you have a natural lip liner (it’s going to be different for everyone) but no matter what, they’re extremely gorgeous. Maybe because it’s winter in the northern hemisphere, many of you could wear lip balms, petroleum jelly or lip glosses but it gives your lips a wet appearance. If not, you lick and bite your lips a lot, like even if you don’t have any of the attributes mentioned above, the way you move your lips, the way you touch it, lick it, bite it, everything just gives you a different vibe. Now moving beyond your lips because while I could sing praises about them all day, I want the reading to consist of more. Your energy is such that when people see your vices or perceived ‘flaws’, it doesn’t disinterest them but instead only add more dimension to you. It makes you more attractive to them because they experience a certain ‘rawness’ in you that they might not get to experience elsewhere in this world due to how everyone is striving for perfection to the point they all seem manufactured. You’re someone who people stare at when in cafés or public places and I’m so sorry but you have fallen victim to catcalling possibly multiple times especially when you were younger than you are right now. You didn’t deserve that. People find themselves losing a certain level of consciousness when they’re close to you, especially physically. You cause people to feel a heat when around you and even away from you, it depends on the person, sometimes it is a gentle warmth that envelops them, sometimes it is a certain hotness running through their that makes it hard for them to contain themselves around you, to even breathe around you, let alone act normal and sometimes it is in the form of jealousy, people of the same sex or who are interested in increasing their appeal but haven’t been able to find their own spark feel intimidated by your scorching heat that seems to engulf all around it unapologetically. One thing that I need to warn you about is that you definitely have people who are jealous of you. You don’t even seem to notice it but when you’re out, people who are literally taken tend to check you out right in front of them, causing their partner to feel a certain hostility towards you. People stare at you a lot, it is very obvious. It’s come through multiple times. Right now, you’re someone who is just very nonchalant. You don’t hold onto connections too tightly, let alone chase them.

You used to formerly speak with your eyes a lot with certain people, it created a sense of knowing, belonging, connection and familiarity but now you just walk past those same people like you don’t know them or you might greet them, smile at them but you don’t seem to have the same gaze in your eyes anymore, often breaking eye contact quickly or not even caring enough to maintain it, it causes them to feel hurt sometimes, wondering if they never meant anything to you, if you just forgot them, if they were just that forgettable to you but it also makes you irresistibly attractive to them. You’ve developed a certain peace within yourself, there were days when you didn’t know how to live or had forgotten how to do so. You had become very internal, causing you to live within yourself and with it came a lot of overthinking. You used to hold onto grief and people could have underestimated you back then but you have moved far past that. You’ve become more present and mindful, you have started living beyond your mind. You’re starting to smile more, live more and keep your life, treasure it, even if it isn’t perfect, even if it didn’t turn out the way you had imagined. You’ve definitely had a past that was full of tears. It was difficult but you’ve left it all behind, this sense of presence and contentment is adding onto your attractiveness because the sorrow you’ve experienced has also given you a lot of wisdom. One thing that you don’t want to fall into is mourning and desperation because you have experienced both. ‘Extreme nostalgia’ is what I just heard. The sorrow you’ve experienced on your path, the tears that you’ve cried are the very things that are helping you move forward with such confidence and self assuredness. Since you’ve experienced so much, many dark thoughts too, possibly suicidal ones for some of you and have always managed to find a way out, you just feel like things will turn out fine in the end. You have tortured yourself enough in the past, it’s time to live now. That’s how you think and this shift is noticeable because you’re just focused on your own life. Your perception of connections especially romantic ones is that while they’re beautiful, people can burst your bubble so you just want to be discerning enough to only let a certain kind of people into your life like that. You desire to love but it’s not that big of a desire anymore, everyone wants love, to give and receive it, to be desired and desire someone but the way you look at it is “I’ve been there, I’m glad I’m out”, you’re just glad to be over it. It doesn’t even have to be romantic, I’m picking up on major disappointments in connections in general, causing you to prioritise yourself first and foremost.

You’re actually a hopeless romantic, a devotee. When you love, it’s very deep for you, your love is of divine nature. There’s no wandering eyes or anything of that sort, there’s just your person who you hold to be dear, almost divine, your love is devotional, almost like worship. I wonder if there was a point when you were devoted to the platonic or/and romantic connections in your life just for them to end and you were devastated about at least one or a few of them but the fact that you’ve managed to come out of it has given you more power because you know how deep your love runs, you know how you love and what kind of love you give out, and desire for yourself so it gives you the self assuredness that you deserve similar energy. You hold yourself and others to a high standard but if they don’t live up to it, you just abandon them and move forward. It’s nothing malicious but you just don’t see the point in getting caught up in the waiting game, training game or sticking around to entertain less than what you know you deserve. You have a different, slightly detached and elusive vibe to you. Your eyes and words tend to teleport people to a different world, not literally obviously but that’s what it feels like for them. Your energy is not possible to ignore, it bothers those around you because of the elusiveness mixed with the heat that I mentioned earlier but it’s not a bother that they ever want to get rid of. They enjoy the feeling of slight discomfort that comes from your presence. You interact with people very casually, not with everyone obviously but your ease of interacting with others is something that adds to your attractiveness. The vibe that I’m getting from you is that some people are bothered by your heat, others find it warm but both of these parties do not even realise when you started filling their world with nothing but yourself, it just hits them randomly and so strongly. I’m picking up on a romantic vibe from you and your beauty, it seems very gentle despite the heat you radiate. You’re also full of contradictions, despite your heat, you have a romantic appeal but despite the gentleness and elusiveness of it, you really confuse people. Some of you get turned on by fighting, not the excessive toxic kind of fighting but the dramatic yet silly ones that add to the pulse on your vertical lips are very much welcome by you 😭. I keep on hearing ‘what do you mean?’ by Justin Bieber here. “Don’t know if you’re happy or complaining”, “first you wanna go to the left and then turn right, wanna argue all day, make love all night.” You feel like home while simultaneously repulsing people. You’re a complex person full of contradictions and that’s what seems to make you attractive. I hope that you enjoyed this reading. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

This pile is for you if you have been touching and rubbing yourself a lot recently or just do so a lot generally. You have an intense sexual nature but really innocent eyes. You also crave fairytale love, like the innocent kind of love that doesn’t include touching and rubbing but just an eye contact makes you feel something, just an accidental brushing of skin is enough to make blood rush up to your cheeks, that’s the kind of love you desire and also give out but despite that, your sexual energy slips past your fairly pure and innocent exterior. Despite your love for consuming romantic content, you are not desperate for it. You understand that it’s a luxury to be with you and act like it. You know that people pleasing is self betrayal so you do not go out of your way to please others but at the same time, when they’re around you, you do please them? It just comes naturally to you. Much like the last pile, I’m getting something with the lips but in this pile, either you have plump lips, have a protruding lower lip or just pout a lot. Maybe, it’s just a natural slightly pouty appearance but I’m literally getting flying kisses so I’m not sure. Despite this innocent appearance and your desire for romance, you are very good at leaving people behind. You’ve learned that it’s best not to overstay your welcome anywhere. You’re someone who leaves people and things behind at the required pace, and you do not even seem to care about what anyone might think. You are fine with being lonely, what you’re not fine is getting used and heartbroken by people who might not have your best interests at heart. You have always had this delicate balance between being a friend and a lover. This could have led to misunderstandings in the past, you tend to treat your friends affectionately and generously, and those of the opposite sex or the sex you are interested in romantically might misunderstand, taking it as a free pass to underestimate and disrespect you? It has likely happened at some point in the past, definitely not for all of you but this quality of yours makes you very attractive. Also, when you fall apart from such people, they aren’t even able to voice out how much they miss you because you didn’t have a relationship set in stone and you just act as though you never even met them, as if you don’t know them, never did. In the past, you may have been unable to maintain this delicate balance or might perceive it as such but you are starting to go forward in life with stronger boundaries and that makes you very attractive.

I wouldn’t be surprised if some or in fact, many of you stopped making friends with the opposite sex due to such misunderstandings and disrespect. People from the past miss you, they’re terribly attracted to you and you’re irreplaceable but you’ve clearly grown out of that. If not, this is not your pile. I’m getting a lot of youthful energy here. It’s not just this delicate balance that has made you feel misunderstood in the past but also your friendships with people of the same sex. I’m legit getting friends from school missing you if you’re out of it and away from them (especially if you separated from them connection wise). You do not realise just how hard the nostalgia hits people of the past when it comes to you. People remember you as ‘the one that got away’ honestly and I hate this concept because it’s just sad, and I believe in true love being present, and not getting away but yes, you’re awfully missed. This is funny but people realise that they love or miss you at around 1-3 a.m. in the morning. You have something melancholic and lonely about you but also something so wholesome, and warm at the same time but you also interact with them by rolling eyes, sighing, vacantly staring, calling them dumb and saying something like “who cares?” All of this is dearly missed when you’re gone. You shouldn’t have to get away for people to want you, to appreciate and desire you, to treat you kindly, and with love and respect. You have this thing where you naturally love your friends a lot and don’t hold them inferior to other connections but this has led to you naturally relying on them and also treating them with a lot of love, and priority, and it was not rewarding for you because they used to develop hostility towards you over time for some reason. You’re very attractive to those from the past because they’ll genuinely never find someone like you anywhere. You’re an unconditionally loving person but you also understand that it’s better not to get involved in the lives of messy people. Also, you have a very casual and friendly way of interacting with people when they’re around you, you greet people and treat them as though you’ve known them for years at least for the amount of time that you’re around them even if you’ve just met them. You also have a tendency to be mean and get on people’s nerves but it only makes you more endearing because they get obsessed yet repulsed by you.

There’s something very innocent and pure, almost naive about you but also someone so dirty and mature. The energy here is a bit more contradictory but your contradictions are what seem to make you attractive. People who are used to being in control and are able to read others well find themselves being unable to remain controlled when around you and fail to read you, causing them to be frustrated, intrigued or/and drawn to you. There’s just something different about you that makes others feel like they’re changing, they’re shaking up, it’s not something that they can even put a finger on, it just is. People can’t help but want you around after meeting you, your presence and energy are intoxicating. I wouldn’t be surprised if once you enter a new environment, you see specific people everywhere around you because they just want to be close to you even if it’s from a distance. Many of you here seem to look like puppies or possess that kind of energy. This is the pile where you attract or at least intrigue those slightly older than you. Even people who claimed to ‘not date someone younger than them EVER’ can’t help but be curious about you, be attracted to you. Despite your youthful and puppy like energy, it’s them that feel like a puppies? Like, after meeting you, initially you’re the one acting like a puppy, treating them well and lighting up when you see them but the more the time starts passing by they feel like you’re not taking them seriously, they’re the one following you around everywhere, wanting to prove themselves to you, they do not even understand why they feel so lovesick without you around as if they were a puppy without their owner. Also, another thing is that some people have their youth attached to you and well, they’re still attracted to you even if you’re no longer in touch. Time passes by too fast when you’re around, people find themselves wishing that the hours would go slow so that they could spend more time with you. You’re a piece of warm sunlight of the first spring when it’s not hot yet but just a pleasant weather with a slight amount of coldness that vanishes when you graze their skin. You’re a joy to be around - a dream girl. You’re pleasant because there’s nothing too imposing about you but your energy though gentle and soft in nature is felt strongly, enveloping all that’s around you. People can’t help but want to be a part of your world. There’s also a sense of fragility that I’m picking up on here but it’s something that others feel fortunate to see about you. I hope that you enjoyed this reading. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

I think that some of you love dancing or just enjoy being young and enjoying life, being present. You’re just so candid, there’s something youthful and timeless about you due to how present you are because you’re someone who actively tries to be present. You do not want to perish with time which is why you try to make every moment count, to have adventures, to try and live your dreams, to leave a legacy. “People will not remember what you wore but they will remember how you made them feel.” You seem to have a solid understanding of this and try to make others feel good about themself and life itself. You’re very busy making the most out of your youth and out of your life but in your presence, you try to make sure that others don’t feel left out, you try to be as inclusive as possible, understanding that they too will only live once. You have an energy that’s everlastingly young about you and your eyes are very attractive, like they’re just captivating regardless of their size, shape and colour. Your eyes give you an appearance of goodness because they look like eyes that would belong to someone good, they’re open, inviting and warm but it seems like more of a disguise once you’re gone because when people run into you or are around you again after a falling out of some sort, your eyes lack that old familiar warmth that once greeted them and they feel an actual ache at the thought that your life continued on without them. You are someone who won’t stop your life for anyone, you want to have fun and spend your life joyfully so when you’re not getting that with certain people or in certain environments, you’re quick to pull yourself and continue on with your life, trying to make it as beautiful and celebratory as possible. Many really extravagant words are coming through for you, I wonder if your energy is a bit dramatic and extravagant too. You are someone who knows how to touch people and gently persuade them but remain distant, causing people to admire you and almost need you. There are times when people think that you’re wasting their time and try to give up on you but something happens that causes them to lose their discernment and heart to you again.

It’s hard to stay composed when you’re around because you just make them feel like little children. I find this endearing, you have a way of making everything very personal. You make memories with people and one thing in particular that stands out to me as attractive is when you call people by their name, it feels personal, it feels sweet. However, most people do not come forth to you beyond yearning for you. You’ve probably had friends confess to you in the past, out of nowhere. You’re very loveable in every sense of the word and people who share closeness to you or once did cannot help but wish for more than that. Many people do not even manage to get as close to you as they’d like to. There’s a lot of fear attached to confessing their feelings for you. The helplessness attached to liking you makes you irresistibly attractive, pretty much obsessively magnetic. Seduction is supposed to be subtle, it’s supposed to be non threatening, that’s what your attractiveness is like. I won’t lie, you do have a very scary attractive appeal too, like people who are attracted to you right away but even so, you win them over more and more over time. When you are around people, the world seems to stop but they don’t even notice it until after a while, they’ll have no clue when it started, when it got so deep. People do have a recognition of a connection with you from the start itself, of course it isn’t like that for everyone and it doesn’t have to be but those who recognise this are still unable to voice it out, however, if you’ve experienced this, you’re probably aware of how they act because their actions and mannerisms likely do give away their feelings. I’m picking up on humiliation, ridicule of looks, etc. You seem to have glowed up, take good care of yourself physically and dress to the best of ability, carrying yourself with your head held high because you remember how you were treated when you weren’t as attractive. This could be something like people close to you leaving you or disrespecting you too, it seems to extend beyond just looks actually, you’ve glowed up mentally and emotionally too. Also, you are forgetting the past, you are trying to, you have grown and don’t want it to hold any power over you at all. You are not in denial or anything, in fact, the kind of ‘forgetting’ seems to be a very healthy one, you’re naturally letting things go without regrets.

You make people feel very young, to share an innocent bond with you, full of memories, they can’t help but yearn for you. It’s your friends and those you share communities with that find you to be the most attractive. Also, you’re someone who literally doesn’t have regrets in terms of connections because you’ve always done your best, you’ve always given your all. You have really strong self respect, it was likely developed with time and experience but those you share memories and past with, if they were struggling, you’d not let them come back in order to search for comfort, support and companionship because you remember how they left. Those who have lost you have especially had to pine for you, the realisation that there’s no one like you is hitting them. Many of these people, even platonic connections seem to have acted like you weren’t all that in the past but now the reality of having lost you is starting to set in. Some of you have nice thick hair or you do something that makes it look full, you could simply just leave it open for example, some of you here use a lot of eye pencil, liner or eyeshadow too probably in brown or black, if not you just have captivating eyes like I said earlier. Your energy brings about a heat that is hard to ignore, it’s usually a strong heat than just a warmth, the type to make people act out of control because they’re not sure how to act around you. It’s like you make them lose control and feel hot, and they regret certain things they say or do but still crave more of it because it’s addictive. The way you move too, gosh, you might not even pay that much attention to it but you’re so attractive like lethally attractive. I keep on getting a theme of you wasting people’s time but it doesn’t even seem to be intentional, you just move on with your life is all. You come off as someone who’s like “if we meet again, we meet, if we don’t, you have my memories to remember me by.” You make everything feel like a movie - a dream - in fact. People get so attached to you, they get so used to you, when you’re not around even the most familiar place starts feeling strange. Some of you could possess dimples or one single dimple. I hope that you enjoyed this reading. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

[kyri45]

I'm making this post since there's an italian idiom "a Natale, siamo tutti più buoni" (during Christmas, we are all more good) and while I prefer to keep this blog for only my art, today is a day where most of us can do something good, even if small.

If you, just like me and many lucky others, are able to spend this Christmas at home, with warm food and a place to call home, please take a moment to help, spread awareness, or even just think about those who can't.

These are some sources I wish just to spread, because I know it can be overwhelming to wanting to help in some ways, but don't know how or who, or even if the source asking is attendible.

el-shab-hussein and nabulsi's spreadsheet is, I think the most known one for vetted fundraisers.

gazafunds.com has one highlighted campaign you can donate to if you don't know which one you should or want donate to.

Operation Olive Branch’s spreadsheet also has other links with alternative ways to help, including donating directly to the municipality, to family shops, and other resources as well.

Here's some of the people (listed) that you can help today:

@suad-khaled (line 279) gofund

"Can you imagine being stripped of safety at the happiest moment of your life? I’m Suad, a young mother from Gaza, where I gave birth to my son Khaled amidst the chaos of w@r. I urgently need your support to secure shelter and medical care for Khaled. You can be part of our story, as every bit of help makes a real difference."

Suad Alkurdi (line 55) gofund

"My name is Souad Al-Kurdi, I am 32 years old, from northern Gaza. I have three children, Wissam, Karim, and Adam. My husband is diabetic and does not take insulin doses and treatment due to their lack of availability in Gaza. My children suffer from diseases due to pollution and malnutrition. We need money to travel to Egypt and build the future of our children there. Travel requires $9,000 per person, and this needs your support."

Jehad Abuhamda's relatives (line 137) gofund

Hello, my name is Jehad Abuhamda. I’m an American/ Palestinian who is seeking for your support in helping me get my close relatives out into safety. My relative lived a hard life after having is right hand amputated from the remnants of Israeli explosives in a previous war. Despite that, it did not hinder him from working in order to provide for his family. But now that he has lost his home, and with the worsening living conditions, He has decided that it is best to leave for the sake of his children.

Of course, be sure to check your local organizations to help those in need of shelter and food, especially if you live in a very cold area!

And remember that if you can't donate, you can always share AND boycott!

Also if I need to edit anything in this post, just let me know.

[biowaredisasterbisexual]

I really don’t understand the criticism that Veilguard doesn’t include enough open, devout Andrastianism. Like, it just perplexes me?

Unlike the first three games, which take place in Southern Thedas (the purview of the Orlesian Chantry, the Sunburst throne), Veilguard takes place almost entirely in Northern Thedas. And it’s clear the Chantry’s role there is very different than in the South.

In Southern Thedas, the Chantry is a power unto itself. The Southern Divine, holder of the Sunburst Throne, occupies a place of real significance and power. She has her own militarized forces (the Templar and Seeker Orders). She politically has to interface with the rulers of the various places in Southern Thedas (Orlais, Ferelden, the Free Marches, etc.), but is not formally associated with or dependent on them. The South is comparatively poorer than the North, and we see a majority of services (taking care of orphans, medical care, the Circles, and very significantly education) being taken care of by the Chantry without necessarily much assistance from the relevant countries.

The Southern Chantry is an ever present figure in Southern Thedas, even for those that aren’t devout. And that is reflected in those stories and the cultures we learn about there.

The Tevinter Imperium is not like that. And that’s not terribly surprising. First, the Imperium pre-dates Andrastianism. They have another, older religion that helped form some of their cultural touchpoints. The Imperium did adopt Andrastianism, but did so as a consolidation of empire (which tracks with the Imperium being, in no small part, a reflection of the real life Roman Empire). As such, the Chantry is folded into and subordinate to the Imperium’s government. The real power in Tevinter, and control over the incidents of daily life that we see the Southern Chantry involved in, is the Magisterium and the Archon.

The Imperial Divine doesn’t control the Templars, the Magisterium and Archon do. He doesn’t control the Circles/education. That’s the Magisterium and Archon again. He is, in practical terms, less powerful than Dorian. He can’t make any real change as the Imperial Divine, so he dons a mask and runs a vigilante group to free slaves and make change that way.

The Northern Chantry simply isn’t as omnipresent as the Southern Chantry in the areas it exists, and it competes with a preexisting cultural backbone in a way the Southern Chantry doesn’t (because it largely stamped that out, though some of the Avvar and Chasind are still around).

I think a lot of people are comparing the impact of Andrastianism in Veilguard to that in Inquisition, because it’s the most recent, and the criticism spawns from that. But that…doesn’t make sense. The Inquisitor is leading a religious organization, ultimately affiliated with the Southern Chantry itself and founded by the left and right hands of the former Divine. It claims its legitimacy from Andraste herself (even if the Inquisitor doesn’t believe a single bit of it). The people who join the Inquisition are all okay enough with Andrastianism to affiliate themselves openly with it (Solas aside, but of course he has other reasons), and many are devout.

The Veilguard are just…random people. Skilled, powerful, talented people, but not people with any real affiliation with any Chantry. Davrin and Bellara have complicated relationships with the Dalish religion they grew up with, for obvious reasons, but they weren’t raised in Andrastianism or an Andrastian culture. Neve, per her, “barely keeps the holidays.” Her relationship to Andrastianism seems closer to the average non-church-attending American who celebrates Christmas and Easter, but isn’t particularly Christian beyond that. Lucanis does seem open to belief in the Maker and Andraste, but is kind of ambivalent to it. More agnostic than anything else. Taash wasn’t raised Andrastian, their mom largely still embraces much of the Qun even if she left, and Rivain was always kind of religiously funky anyway. Only Emmrich and Harding are particularly Andrastian, and even then Emmrich is from Nevarra which although deeply Andrastian is unique. Harding is the only companion whose Andrastianism we’d recognize from the prior games.

So in a game set in a region where Andrastianism is culturally less of an influence, where the Chantry holds far less power, and that has companions that aren’t devout Andrastians…how is it a failure of the game that it isn’t brought up more. That makes sense. It’s consistent with the world building that came before it and the continued reveal of that world in game.

I don’t get it.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Grumpy, Grumpier, and a Cat

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x grumpy!(kinda)grunge!reader

Summary: You and Tim are on a holiday vacation when your duo of grumpy and grumpier gets an addition just in time for Christmas.

Warnings: mostly fluff, playful arguments, one murder joke

Word Count: 1.3k+ words (sorry it's shorter than some of the others!)

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

“Don’t touch me,” you grumble.

Tim pulls his hand away from your leg and shakes his head. “They look fine,” he replies.

You stick your tongue out of the corner of your mouth to focus as you drag the nail polish brush along the side of your pinky. As soon as you put the cap back on the bottle, Tim lays his hand on your leg and changes the channel, turning off the murder mystery show that you solved fifteen minutes ago to watch the end of a game.

“So?” you ask, holding up your hands.

Tim looks over and nods. “Black, like usual.”

You sigh and extend your legs, stretching them across Tim’s lap.

“Grumpy today, aren’t we?” Tim asks lightly.

“Which isn’t different than yesterday, or the day before that,” you add, turning your head to look at Tim rather than the game.

“Do you know what today is?”

You shrug, and Tim says, “It’s almost our two-year anniversary.”

“We should dress up,” you reply. “Gomez and Morticia?”

“Any excuse not to smile,” Tim says, clicking his tongue to hide his smile.

“You’re just mad because I make you smile,” you point out.

“Pathetic,” Tim mumbles at the television.

“Could’ve told you that. Home Alone comes on in five minutes.”

“Are you serious?”

You meet Tim’s stare and counter, “It’s a kid torturing intruders, what’s not to like?”

Tim sighs, but he tugs your pajama-clad legs farther into his lap. His pants match yours, but his Dodgers sweatshirt is a stark contrast to your black tank top.

“Tim,” you call. He hums, clicking through the channels to find the movie. “It’s snowing.”

Tim looks up, leans over your legs to see out of the darkening window, and his eyes widen when he sees the flurries falling onto the forest floor. It had been his idea to get away from the city for a bit, and when you found this secluded cabin in the northern Los Angeles National Forest, it was an easy decision.

“Excuse me… May I… Is your mother home?” the officer in the movie asks.

You listen to the movie, but your focus is on the snow outside. As the wind picks up and the snowfall grows heavier, you smile. After two years together, Tim knows you well. He knows what you like to wear, your favorite food, all the things that make you grumpy, and the few things you love. Though Tim knows you love him, even when you don’t always show it very well, he also understands that being in love doesn’t automatically mean that you’re happy all the time.

“Hey, let’s go outside for a bit,” you say as Kevin realizes that he’s been left home alone.

Tim begins to argue, then sees the way your eyes light up as you turn toward him and offers his hand to help you stand. You grab your jacket as you exit the sliding glass door onto the snow-covered porch. After you lay your jacket on the snow, you at Tim sit side-by-side on the edge of the porch to watch the snow. He lays his arm around your bare shoulders but doesn’t comment on your lack of a jacket, even as he shakes his head.

Snow begins to coat the ground as the wind howls and flurries thicken into thick sheets of white blanketing the green forest. Leaning your head against Tim’s shoulder, you are content to watch the world around you turn white and forget about everything else. But the peace is soon disturbed.

You straighten from Tim’s side as a strange noise, like a sharp Ree-ow, comes from the trees. Tim’s arm slips from your shoulders as he stands on the snowy step. He looks down at you before searching the tree line. Quietly, you stand behind him but can’t see anything moving in the dark other than the falling snow.

“We should look,” you murmur. “It could be a hurt animal.”

“Or someone coming through the trees,” Tim argues. “I’ll check.”

He steps off the porch, and you roll your eyes before walking the other way. You each start out the outer boundary of the yard and meet in the middle, but there’s nothing to see. Tim shrugs as you shake your head, so you turn back toward the cabin.

“Maybe the abominable snowman got an early start this year,” you joke. “That or we’ll get murdered in our sleep.”

Tim doesn’t comment on your dark joke, but he stops suddenly, and you keep your eyes on him as you do the same. He gestures toward the porch with his hand. Turning, your eyes widen, and you laugh once before moving carefully.

“Hey there,” you murmur. “I don’t want to scare you, buddy.”

The black cat curled up on your jacket raises its head slightly, then burrows further into the warm fabric. You reach the steps and gently lower your hand. As you pet its smooth black coat, brushing stray snowflakes away, it vibrates beneath your touch with happy purrs.

“You just need a nice home, huh?” you ask it.

“No,” Tim interjects. “It needs to go back where it came from.”

You look over your shoulder, and the moment your eyes meet Tim’s, he closes his eyes and sighs. He can’t put up a fight, even if he wanted to, because he’s too invested in you and helping you be happy to deny you of something that brings you joy, especially this close to the holidays.

“It’s Christmas, Tim,” you remind him. You pull the cat against your chest, rubbing its side as it nuzzles its head beneath your chin, and ask, “Please, can the cat stay in the cabin with us so I can take it home? He needs it.”

Tim nods, melting faster than snow in Los Angeles. “Just be careful,” he requests. “We don’t know where it came from.”

“But he’s just a sweet baby,” you whisper to the cat before kissing its head.

“We should go inside,” Tim suggests, grabbing your jacket and eyeing the cat.

“I won’t let him steal all of my attention,” you promise.

Tim huffs as he opens the patio door, and you lift your chin for a kiss before you enter. Inside, you set up a small, warm bed for your new pet before returning to your seat beside Tim. He pulls you against his side as you resume the movie.

As the intruders fail to get through Kevin’s traps in Home Alone, your cat rises from its bed, stretches, and runs across the room to join you on the couch. He curls up between your leg and Tim’s, and you look down at him.

“He needs a name,” you murmur.

“Skellington,” Tim says without hesitation.

You look up at him with furrowed brows, but he only shrugs and continues watching the movie. It’s a good name, you think.

“Hot chocolate,” you whisper suddenly.

“He’s not brown,” Tim says.

“No, not for his name,” you reply. “I want hot chocolate.”

Tim nods but doesn’t move away from you or the cat.

“I think Skellington is a good name,” you decide.

“Maybe he should be Coal.”

“Coal is only for bad boys, and Skellington is good.”

“The Grinch, then.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be making hot chocolate?”

“You’re the one that wants it,” Tim argues.

“Help me out, Skellington.”

“I named the cat. You make the hot chocolate.”

You glare at Tim, but the longer you hold his stare, the less grumpy you get. As you begin to stand, Tim beats you to it, and waves as you complain about him arguing for no reason.

“What are we going to do with him, Skellington?” you whisper.

The cat slaps your left hand, and you answer, “I don’t think we’re quite ready for that.”

Tim listens from the kitchen, and fixes your hot chocolate exactly as you like, and mumbles, “Maybe we are.”

[saintmuses]

❝𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙂𝙤𝙙, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝❞

Pairing:

Ghost!Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary:

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.” Those were the last words before her lack of knowledge of them ceased. You. Just one simple word for what the shadow of a man in her childhood’s home, Arrow House wanted.

Warning(s): SMUT. Dub-con. Implied age gap (obviously, but everyone’s grown). Mentions of death. Exophilia. P in V. Obsession. Depraved??? Possessive!Thomas. Major death at the end (gore-ish). Minors, dni! Note: They didn’t directly interacted when she was a child until she moved back in the house. I’m trying to go for Don’t Blame Me vibes.

Word Count: 5k

Act I

She could hear the wheels rumbling as the gravel hit the bottom of the vehicle they were driving away in. The sky was grey with dense clouds rolling through 

“Y/N?” Her mother’s voice grabbed her attention as the vehicle drove around the fountain, causing her to turn her head away from the window to her mother in the front passenger seat. 

Her mother gently clasped her hand with her nimble fingers, “it’s for the best, honey.” She said gently, looking at her with kind eyes that her heart clenched at the idea of leaving everything she had known behind to move to Northern Ireland for her father’s work.

O’ Children was playing on the radio, and her lips curled up in delight since it was one of her favorite songs she would force her father to play.

Hey, little train, wait for me!

I once was blind, but now I see.

She turned her head to look back to the house they were leaving behind, one of the hired staffs were moving their furnitures into the moving company vehicles, and she observed the state of the manor. Her eyes kept straying to the entrance door that was left wide open, and the stale light was spread throughout the hallway.

Her breathing was ribbed when she noted a translucent figure filling in the gap of the doorway. The figure resembled a man, towering over the domain of the threshold. 

A shadow, her mind whispered. Those words she did not understand, too young for her mind to understand what those words had meant. 

She was far away from the house that she could not tell the features of the man, however, she knew he was watching the vehicle slowly driving down the road past the gates as the house began to get smaller and smaller.

Strangely enough she’d swore she felt like she was leaving the shadow of the man behind.

Hey, little train, wait for me.

I was held in chains, but now I’m free.

Thirteen Years Later

Arrow House stood still as if time had never casted a spell on it, the only signs of the place being affected by time was the cascading vines on the side of the house, the stains on the glass panes of the windows, and the color of the bricks was dull as if the soul had left its host. 

She supposed it did because no one had lived in Arrow House for years.

Not since she was eleven years old and that was thirteen years ago.

She had no idea that the house was still under her parents’ possession, she had thought they sold it when they left the way they left the place.

Her parents died five years ago prior to Christmas, and Johnny Dogs took her in along with Curly who was his only roommate at that time.

For the life of her, she could not figure out why he had preferred to be called Johnny Dogs. He used to make jokes of how he felt like a reincarnated person, but really his parents would call him that.

She paused after placing her hand on the  handle before pushing it sideways to open the door. The hinges squeaked as she pushed inward into the stale hallway, brightly lit by the sun through the windows.

The parlor looked very empty, and lonely that she felt small standing in it. She heard her friends yelling at each other for instructions as they started taking things out of the vehicle.

Her eyes raked the place before her, taking the things that made her remember what she did in the parlor years ago.

As she reminisce, she heard a clang as it hit the floor, her head was drawn to the sound and she spotted an object.

A bronze bullet rolled on the floor as if someone had pushed it down the hallway towards the dining room. She walked towards it after it slowed down to a stop.

She bent over to pick it up, curious 

When she felt slight texture on smooth surface, she twisted the bullet until she saw the carving. She ran her thumb over the name that was etched in the metal.

Tommy

She frowned when she noticed the portrait that taken over the dining room, she had forgotten about it.

She used to play with her toys under the enormous portrait as if it was protecting her from any danger lurking in the dark shadows of the room.

She was surprised it was still on the wall, ageless, she knew what year it was painted; 1923. And yet the canvas did not turn yellow or it was lacking a layer of dust from decades of just hanging on the wall.

It was a figure of the man standing next to the white beautiful horse.

It felt like he was alive in the painting, staring down at her with eyes so cold and empty from the canvas. Iron clad control gripping the manor with the coldness in his gaze. She immediately pocketed the carved bullet into her jeans when she heard Curly’s voice, questioning about the portrait considering it was the only wall decoration hanging on the wall, every room and hallways in the manor were barren.

“I think we tried to take it down, but it refused to budge so we left it there.” She shrugged, frowning at Curly’s facial expression.

“It’s creepy,” he shuddered, letting out a light whimper before walking towards the entrance to return his tasks.

She rolled her eyes before turning to look at the portrait again.

She’d swore she saw a mere smirk curling on a stoic man’s face.

Perhaps Curly was right, the portrait was displaying creepy undertones.

Act II

The sun was barely rising above the horizon when she was dragged out of the bed due to the sounds of echoing loading off the weapon. 

Her fingers grappled onto the white curtains, and pushed it off to the side until she could see out of the bay window. She frowned when she only saw a heavy thick haze rolling around across the fields. She loved the morning dews, but hated the thick fogs in the morning.

The sun was coming up, but the fields were  in a state of stale gray and muddied in a way it would look like it came out of Texas Chainsaw Massacre film. The film gave her nightmares when she was younger until she grew up, and was able to get over her aversion of horror films.

However, she did not think she got over the aversion of paranormal activities that had been occurring in the last several days since they had moved into the manor.

She had sworn she saw a shadow gliding across the field. The shadow raised something in the air, aiming it at something.

She flinched when the sound of gunshots went off, her fingers dig into the material of the curtains as the fog thickened and then the gunshots stopped firing.

The walls were quite thin in a way where she could hear the door swinging open and hefty footsteps were being made on the hardwood floor on the other side of the house.

“Bloody hell was that?” She heard Johnny shouting down the hallway causing her to turn her head towards her bedroom door.

She tittered before returning her gaze back to the fields from afar, only to see it was empty of fog and it was coming alive in a sense as the sun casted its light on the fields.

She frowned. Had she been seeing things?

“Nothing!” She shouted back after she dragged the curtains to block out the morning light through the window.

Johnny dragged out a box onto the coffee table in the library. The box had a stale cream borders on the front of it along with the design of a board and a planchette, and thick letters in the style that resembled to the sixties or the seventies. A Ouija board.

“What is that?” She asked flatly, recognizing the box as she sat down on the soft threaded rug next to the coffee table. However, she waited for her friend to confirm it for her.

She eyed the box with distaste. She had never used one before because the idea of it was ridiculous. Not only that, but her mother had expressively forbidden the board in this house. Something about not wanting to draw spirits into their home. While Johnny lifted the lid of the box to set it up, she spent her time observing the environment around her. The walls were lined with shelves and books especially scholar books. 

The books on the shelves had not been touched in years that it was layered with dust and moth bites along with the smell of old parchment between pages. She loved the smell of old books, but she hated the smell of dust. She could tell when she was living in the house they only cleaned the ordinated desk and other furniture they actually used. The books were merely placed as decorations despite it had not moved in years since the previous owner’s -prior to her parents- death.

She heard Curly stepping into the library and she turned her head to see him eyeing the board set up fearfully. “I don’t know about this,” he mumbled, shifting his feet nervously. “I don’t want to disturb the spirits.”

“For the last time, Curly. It is not haunted.” She said sharply, eyeing him with slight annoyance. She loved Curly, but his thoughts would get the best of him. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

It still did not explain strange occurrences that had been happening around the manor, although she would never admitted to her friends.

The righteous indignant expressions would be sent to her way and she would never hear the end of it at all. She loved her boys, but they can be a little too much when paranoia would get the best of them.

“Oi! Are you trying to drive us out of here when we barely lived in this place?” Johnny complained before instructing Curly, “sit down.”

Curly sat down next to her by the coffee table after setting up the fireplace with a few wooden logs to start off with.

She plucked the planchette from Johnny’s grip, setting it on the board on the 'G' as the thin white paper instructed her. They each placed a hand on the piece as she read the instructions in her other hand.

“Johnny since you want to cause chaos tonight, why won’t you be the first to start us off.” She said flatly, Curly nodded in agreement.

Johnny gave them a glare before grumbling. “Are there any spirits with us tonight?”

For a moment, it was completely silent as they all waited with bated breath to see if the planchette would move. A minute ticked by, and then another.

“Are there any spirits with us in this room?” She asked firmly.

They waited for another minute before a strong smell began to overtake the surrounding.

She inhaled sharply, wrinkling her nose, recognizing the scent of tobacco burning from years prior when she was a child. None of her parents were smokers, and she had concluded it was one of the memories of the room. However her eyes widened when she felt the object beneath her fingers shifting.

The planchette moved to the word YES.

Her eyes shot at Johnny’s wide eyes before returning her gaze to the object. Curly whimpered next to her.

She hesitated before she asked, “what is your name?” 

The planchette moved slowly across the board as it targeted the letters.

It stopped on the letter in the middle on the second row, “T.” Then it barely moved to the first row and landed on the letter next to G, “H.” The next letter ended up on the letter “O” on the second row on the other side of the board, then the planchette landed on the last letter of the first row, “M” then it moved across the first row to the first letter which was “A”. At last it stopped on the letter on the second row next to T, “S.”

THOMAS

Tommy? She asked to herself, remembering the engraved name in the bullet sitting on top of her dresser.

“What do you want, Thomas?” She questioned shakily, remembering the ghosts would have their own unfinished businesses whether they were tethered to something.

YOU

It was a declaration. A warning, a reminder, and an order all in one. To her, it was just downright terrifying. Nevertheless, she snapped herself out of her daze of shock.

“We’re done,” she muttered indignantly, pushing herself off the floor until she stood then she snatched the board. The planchette flew off to the side due to the aggression she inflicted on the board.

“Wait! No-“ she heard Curly attempted to stop her.

“You have to say goodbye before-“

She threw the decorated laminated cardboard into the fireplace, and she ignored the commotion of Curly’s voice as it reached a shaky high pitch.

“I said we are done with it. It’s stupid, and pointless!” She glared at them before turning on her heels to storm out of the library.

She would never tell them that she was terrified.

Act III

With soft echoes of her footsteps as she reached to her bedroom, creaks radiating as to reflect the true age of the house she was currently residing in. She turned the brassy knob opening the door, but she frowned when she felt something different in the air. As if the air particles were stilted, as if it was disturbed.

With her eyes, she scanned the bedroom and something caught her gaze. She zeroed in the direction where there was something on the mattress.

She found a simple sheet on the edge of the bed, recognizing the parts of the poetry to one of her favorite collection of poems.

Now Bonnie and Clyde are the Barrow gang

I'm sure you all have read.

how they rob and steal;

and those who squeal,

are usually found dying or dead.

There's lots of untruths to these write-ups;

they're not as ruthless as that.

their nature is raw;

they hate all the law,

the stool pigeons, spotters and rats.

They call them cold-blooded killers

they say they are heartless and mean.

But I say this with pride

that I once knew Clyde,

when he was honest and upright and clean.

But the law fooled around;

kept taking him down,

and locking him up in a cell.

Till he said to me;

"I'll never be free,

so I'll meet a few of them in hell"

If they try to act like citizens

and rent them a nice little flat.

About the third night;

they're invited to fight,

by a sub-gun's rat-tat-tat.

They don't think they're too smart or desperate

they know that the law always wins.

They've been shot at before;

but they do not ignore,

that death is the wages of sin.

Some day they'll go down together

they'll bury them side by side.

To few it'll be grief,

to the law a relief

but it's death for Bonnie and Clyde.

Her eyes widened when there was something made known of a presence when she felt one hand running firmly up the length of her back to rest on the back of her neck. 

The sound of the paper crinkling before it floated into the air as it fell down to the ground.

She was frozen at this point, not budging at all, her breath caught in her throat before her eyes closed and squeezed tightly as if she could make whatever was touching her disappear.

It had to be him. It had got to be. There were absolutely no explanations for what she had gone through in the last few hours. No, scratch that, for the last few days.

The one who turned her world upside down with its presence through what she had thought a simple silly game when it turned out it was not a child’s game to play. Absolutely not a game for children nor for someone like her or her beloved friends, Johnny and Curly.

She felt something lingering in the crook of her shoulder, and her breathing stilled even more when she felt what she recognized as a face nearing her neck, the tip of his nose ghosting on her skin before she felt his lips followed.

Immediately, she stepped away, her eyes wide as she slowly turned around to face the bay window of her bedroom, her chest now heaving to compensate for the painful chilling moment.

She blinked at the reflection of the wide glass panes pathetically, the moon casted its own light on her through the window. She felt completely out of place because there was no one there except the shadows of the night of the moon.

She was so fucking pretty.

He hadn’t been able to appreciate finer, beautiful things after his death. 

When he put a bullet in his own brain, ending his own cursed life. He hadn’t anticipated to return to the house that held nothing but stagnant moments with good times that were very few and far between.

He had thought about implanting explosives in the house and let it blow all up, to destroy a extensive piece of his past because he once believed that the past was the past and it wasn’t his to be concerned about anymore.

However, in that last moment before walking out of the godforsaken place, he had changed his mind and changed the orders for his men to remove it from the manor but he knew Lizzie and his son, Charlie would not come back to this place. He did not want them to, regardless.

Looking back prior to his death, he was relieved he did not destroy it.

For the fact the woman standing before his being was the reason he was able to experience her presence. 

For the past several days, he didn’t lose sight of her and followed her for a while, still hidden by the shadows of light and time except the trinkets and reminders he would leave around for her to find.

He would be there, chasing her down the corridors at night without her knowing.

When he was alive, he used women as a way to escape his mundane life despite it was filled with danger and enemies and never a moment to rest except in death.

He had experienced displeasure when his remaining siblings, Arthur, Finn and Ada agreed to sell Arrow House a few years after he died because it was too much for them to live in the house that held nothing for them anymore.

He had been pleasantly surprised by the fact he was able to enjoy her presence back when she was a child. He had enjoyed the presence of children when he was alive, but life got in the way of him being able to be the person he had wish to become. As a ghost, he hadn’t been able to surround children for the fact there were not many tenets with children. He had observed her throughout time, noticing how she was mindless to her surroundings, untouched by the cruelty of the world that bestowed since the dawn of time. It had made him feel protective of the child who played with her toys under the portrait in the dining hall. It was easier to keep an eye on her from the things that could potentially hurt her. 

He had never thought he would be angry with the thought of her and her family leaving the manor behind, forgotten as they moved onto the next chapter of their lives. No one in his life stayed for him, not in the way he wanted them to. He wanted them to stay for him, not for what he could provide. He felt the same way when the family left the manor despite him being a ghost.

Now time had passed and she got older while he stayed the same, frozen by the law of nature.

And she, she had come back to the manor when she had no reason to. He had felt alive and things had changed the moment he laid his eyes on her again when he saw her presence climbing out of a vehicle along with two men he had recognized in his previous life.

He traced his fingers across his trouser-cladded thigh. He had never thought he would be aching to slide his thick, heavy cock between her thighs that were exposed under her pajama shorts. 

He had never thought of her as anything but someone to protect. Until she stepped into the Arrow House again.

However, nothing could destroy the pleasure of the fact she chose his old room as her oasis, her bedroom, a room for her to find peace in her own space.

He leaned forward, easing himself around her figure, brushing his knuckles against her shoulder to stroke her warm skin gently.

He could touch her now. A touch-starved man was a dangerous beast.

Whatever it was thirteen years ago prior to her leaving, it was the past. It was glaringly obvious that the past was a different life. 

Far from this one.

A sudden predatory arm snaked around her waist causing a gasp from her lips. Out of pure instinct, her hands reached down and gripped tightly onto his forearm attempting to push it away. Snatching her back into his broad warm chest birthed a panic attack in her.

She was exactly where she dreaded being - right where he wanted her to be. She nearly forgot what it was like to be trapped within the dark embrace of any kind.

His muscles held her tightly like a second skin and yet brought an ounce of fear the woman had never felt before until she moved into the damn Arrow House.

Another gasp slipped from her mouth as he brought her head back with a slow but forceful movement of his hand, letting the crown of her head tip back against his shoulder. She trembled, keeping her eyes as straight as she could while her hands gripped onto him for life. The fear of the unknown made her head swirl as the thought of being completely hostage by him.

She tried her best to remind herself that she would not die because he was a goddamn shadow. However, she had seen too many poltergeist movies to know she could die.

She bit down on her lower lip to prevent any other sound from leaving her mouth until she felt it. His other hand crawled its way up to her stomach.

Feeling the weight of his fingers and palm drag slowly up her abdomen, he was unpredictable and that made this all the more worse. His nose now met the tip of her right ear, causing the girl to shiver as her eyes closed tightly. He nuzzled the smooth skin of her ear. All she could hear was his steady deep breathing, lightly rising with each movement of his chest, until a deep intentional breath filled her ears.

He was smelling her hair, releasing a deep exhale as if he could finally settle and she found herself frozen in place especially when she could see him now. 

Exactly like the man in the portrait in the dining room.

Thomas.

She tried to move her head, to avoid his lips, but he already had his hands out, chasing her face to close the distance. 

He embellished the feeling of her soft skin underneath the pads of his fingertips by gently grabbing the both sides of her pretty face.

A groan slipped out from his lips as it rumbled in his throat when he finally finally felt her lips with his own. Desperation that was brimming the moment he knew she could see him and touch him washed over him, and his hands immediately captured her face as he had found out he could touch her.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “Y/N, love.”

It was as if her fault for making him lose his breath, her fault for keeping them apart like this despite not knowing it was him was what drove her away, his lungs collapsed. He nibbled and bit her lower lip in punishment. Between sudden breaths, he worshipped her with his mouth and hands to the point of terror.

“Thomas,” she let out a protest, her fingers clenching his shoulders to push him away. Only there was no use.

Ignoring her, a growl pulling his lip ever so slightly as he captured her lips again in a searing kiss. Teeth catching onto her upper lip before opening his mouth to devour her bottom lip as well.

He spun her away from him before pushing her against the mattress while she had struggled against him.

Without letting her move, he had began to remove her clothes, and his eventually joined the pile. He didn’t care for anything but to be inside of her.

He pushed her flailing legs apart before nestling between them.

His cock was trailing up and down the folds of her cunt. The head got caught on her opening for just a moment and sent a shock of electrical pleasure throughout his entire body.

He rumbled lowly in his chest as the thick tip of his shaft pushed through the opening, making her inner muscles give out as he started pushing inside with the tilt of his hips. He grunted lowly into her neck as he slid into her the first time.

He moved slowly as he buried himself inside her pussy. The hot sensation enveloped his dick as he made her feel every inch of it, he was wanting to savor the moment since it had been years since he last had a warm cunt and it had never felt like this coming from the woman beneath him, but it all became too much to the point where he shoved in the last few inches instead.

He groaned when her cunt pulsed and clenched down on his shaft in response as she whined into the mattress. She may have not wanted it, but her body wanted more.

He was able to prop his arms beside her head as his thick cock was nestled deeply into her warm cunt before extricating his cock from her tight cunt and slammed back inside, forcing a sharp moan from her throat.

Thomas began thrusting into her with abandon, feral and animalistic. Her hands scrambled to hold onto something which ended up grasping onto his forearms instead. A part of him felt an undeniable need to claim her, to fuck her so hard and rough he would imprint upon her being. He needed to make sure she would never leave him.

He did not know what he was anymore. In this moment, he was nothing but a pure primitive being, redacting every piece of history from this moment to the dawn of time. 

Trying to claim his woman.

“God, look at you,” his voice came from above her, low and rough.

His knees were spread, resting on the outsides of both her legs, his feet hooked over her calves to accommodate the position which had spread her legs apart, forcing her to take him as the position gave him the leverage to pound down into her hard, slamming his hips into her ass with rough thrusts that borderline brutal. He would bet she could feel his heavy balls smacking down against her slicked cunt, and hear the loud, crude slapping sound it made. It only made him harder even more somehow as pleasure rolled down his spine due to the lewdness of the position. 

He loved how spread open she looked, how it felt to shove his cock into her warm cunt as he fucked her like an animal.

“Mine.” He rumbled, smirking when she didn’t say anything.

She seemed so small beneath him like this. He looked down at where his dick was swallowed by her pussy, he ended up grabbing her ass, his large hands gripped her flesh, and spread her open, groaning as he saw the way her folds were spread open by his cock and her cunt was wrapped tightly around him. 

One of his hands trailed up her spine, smirking when a shiver rolled down her back and settling in gripping the back of her neck as he move himself to hover over her writhing body.

With one hand finding the front of her throat, he pulled her closer against his chest as much as he could, pace not faltering once. He could feel her walls fluttered around his cock due to the possessive grasp he had on her throat. She was trembling, he nearly smiled with a feral expression as he had a hard time focusing on anything but her, the way he fucked her, pushing her closer to the edge. 

“Such a tight cunt, so perfect for me.” He rasped, his lips grazing her cheek.

Somewhere in the haze of pleasure that rolled through him, Thomas groaned as the grip on the base of her neck tightened; threatening to leave bruises as he thought about spilling his cum into her pussy. He shoved his cock so deeply inside of her that she collapsed with a startled cry where no one could tell the beginning and the end.

His weight was pinning her to the blankets as her cunt was flooded with his cum. She began to squirm beneath him once she realized there were flames licking the bedroom and smoke began to rise, but he kept her pinned where she was, sliding his cock back and forth in her warmth.

“Tommy,” she protested, attempting to crawl away from him, only he held her down firmly.

He swallowed thickly as he laid his head against the curve of her back, “there’s not a damn thing I wouldn’t do when it comes to you, do you understand me?” Despite being a ghost, the warmth of her skin mingled with his as he felt the heat of the flames licking the curtains and the wallpapers as the fire began to spread around them, eventually consuming them.

Then she screamed as fire licked her skin, burning the flesh and he held her down in his arms, bounding her to him forever in death.

[paceprompting]

it's raining plastic santas...i mean, men

written for ‘cabin’ and ‘lights’ wc: 1000 # | steddie | rated: g | cw: no archive warnings apply | tags: secret relationship, sweet fluff, Hopper's cabin, Christmas decorating

@steddieholidaydrabbles & @steddiemas

Eddie lost track of Steve and Lucas sometime after morning hot chocolate.

El and Max had pulled him into decorating the inside of Hopper’s cabin, from garlands on the banister to a fire-hazard level of lights draping fabric along the walls. He mainly served as the guy to stand on a chair and possibly fall off while being ordered around by two teenagers.

The three kids at the cabin were the only ones they could convince to come a day ahead to get the cabin ready for a Christmas sleepover. Nobody was off in California and no watching over their shoulder for demonic animals or freaky, psychokinetic assholes. They really only wanted to get away from the miles on construction running through Hawkins—and Hopper had offered up his cabin as solace.

Of course, Steve was recruited as babysitter and chauffeur. And Eddie had been in the living room—for no particular reason—when Steve got the call, so he wasn’t going to be left out.

He realized halfway through pinning his fifth drapery-whatever that El could literally move things with her mind, and when he pointed it out, the girls just cackled at him.

“You know what?” Eddie jumped onto the floor from his chair. “I’m taking a smoke break.”

“Edddiiiee,” Max bemoaned, from her very uncomfortable spot laid out in the armchair. She had only stopped directing him from up close when her arms ached from her crutches. “The decorations…”

He laid the armful of fabric they’d shoved at him on Max’s lap, tapping the top of the pile. “It’s so fun, you should give it a try, Red. I’m going to go make sure your boyfriend hasn’t toppled off the roof into a snowbank.”

Max stared at him, mouth in a straight line.

“If you must,” she huffed.

Eddie scrunched his nose at her, since she hated having her hair ruffled, and she rolled her eyes in return.

He took the win and made his way outside.

Max wasn’t the only one with a boyfriend traipsing around on the damn roof.

 Eddie shuddered as he stepped outside, his leather jacket not enough against the cold of northern Indiana. Tucking his arms against his chest, Eddie trekked out into the two inches of snow in his combat boots.

As he stepped off the porch, he shouted, “Sinclair! Harrington! What are we doing?”

“Shit!”

And that was all the warning he got before Santa came tumbling out of the sky and crashed into the snow right at his feet.

Perhaps he shouldn’t shout at the people dealing with the heavy decorations.

With a dignified squawk, Eddie leapt sideways into the snow. He landed on his side, freezing cold immediately bleeding through his sleeve. He stared at the red and white monstrosity that had nearly brained him—two-feet tall and round, the plastic shone in the sun.

Santa’s pink-cheeked face smiled creepily at him.

“You dead?”

Eddie craned his neck up toward the roof to find Lucas’ head tentatively peering over the edge. The multi-colored lights underneath his hands flashed, reflecting the light back on his face. One of the white wire reindeers stood securely beside him.

“Not yet,” he muttered, sticking his hands into the snow to stand. As he got to his feet, Steve came into view, standing far behind Lucas with a strained smile.

He waved bashfully as Eddie scowled.

“You two done?” he called.

Lucas eyed the fallen Santa and shrugged. “I guess so. Steve?”

“Let’s take a break. The girls will probably want us to move stuff around.” Steve and Lucas nodded their agreement, and Steve headed toward the ladder on the far side of the cabin. Lucas took the more direct route, holding tight onto the edge of the mall and then throwing his feet over.

Before Eddie could run over and try to steady him, Lucas dropped to the ground on both feet, completely steady and unbothered, brushing stray snow off his jacket as he headed back inside.

Ridiculous jocks.

His own didn’t give Eddie a heart attack, appearing from the side of the cabin without throwing himself at gravity, hands tucked into his thick winter jacket, head ducked as he watched his step.

“You owe me,” Eddie said when Steve stopped in front of him. “For the near assault with a deadly Santa.”

Steve laughed. “It weighs like six pounds.”

“Thus a worse tragedy it would have been,” Eddie said with a wave of his hand.

No one was aside with them, so Steve sauntered a bit closer, his back to the cabin windows. Eddie raised his brows as Steve’s body warmth radiated a bit onto him, and being theatrically upset with Steve was a lot easier when he didn’t also want to kiss him.

When he it used to be that he couldn’t kiss him.

Steve bit at his bottom lip, his big brown eyes glistening with mischief that was normally Eddie’s forte.

“So, you don’t want me to hang some mistletoe above the bed?” he asked with a teasing lilt.

He and Steve were watching the cabin tonight, while the kids had a regular holiday dinner with their families before heading to the cabin. They already had loose plans for their night alone in the master bedroom.

“I didn’t say that,” Eddie quickly corrected, narrowing his eyes as he tried to devise a proper penance for Steve’s rooftop shenanigans. “But we’re trying the handcuffs tonight.”

“Oh no,” Steve fake-gasped. “What will I do at the mercy of Eddie Munson?”

“I leave you waiting in anticipation, Harrington,” Eddie replied easily.

Steve blushed, even though that wasn’t even close to the craziest thing they’d tried in bed. He always blushed, and then absolutely ruined Eddie for anyone else, over and over.

He’d lucked out, getting to have Steve.

He thought he just might keep him.

“You did a good job, though. Just what this place needed,” he said, leaning into Steve’s shoulder for a long moment—until he heard the trampling of teenage footsteps coming to interrupt.

[do-u-know-this-autisticcharacter]

Do You Know This (non-canon) Autistic Character?

Disclaimer - People are allowed to like fictional characters but not like the author. This does not mean we/they support JK Rowling.

Propaganda

This post which includes:

He doesn’t participate in any social meetings. He’s quite miserable during the Christmas in Harry’s third year. He patrols the corridors and the grounds instead of attending the Yule Ball. He doesn’t stay for dinner after the Order meetings. He only attends the DE meetings because he has to.

His peers at school think he’s weird. Lily’s friends from Gryffindor don’t understand why she’s friends with him. When Harry asks why the Marauders bullied him, Sirius says he was different, weird, he was an "oddball". Autistic children and teenagers are often bullied because they are perceived as not normal, awkward, weird.

He doesn’t make a normal eye contact, he stares a bit too much. It can be partly explained by Legillimency, but he stared too much even as a teenager.

There’s a difference between how he speaks as a teenager and as an adult. It doesn’t sound entirely natural, he definitely had to put effort into that. It’s partly because he doesn’t want to sound like a poor man with a northern (?) accent, but autistic struggle with fluent communication may also be a reason.

He’s quite rude. He might be just *evil*, but he may just not fully understand how cruel he actually sounds. From his point of view he’s just honest and doesn’t beat around the bush. OK, maybe he’s a little mean, but not cruel… right?

He uses sarcasm (a lot of autistics actually do), but he doesn’t really appreciate Harry’s and other people’s sass, he treats their words too seriously.

He seems a little oblivious to other people’s emotional state and seems to analyse their behavior more intellectually.

He has special interests: Dark Arts / DADA and Potions.

He has his own collection of Potions ingredients, including rare ones, collection of weird jars (I guess they may contain some Potions ingredients, but also he may like them because of visual stimming aspect) and vast collection of books at home.

His Potions ingredients must be very orderly, he knows immediately that something is missing and what it is.

He doesn’t wash his hair as often as he should. It could be partly because of his poor background (he was neglected, he wasn’t taught to take a proper care of his hair, he didn’t even have a real bathroom as a child), partly because he has no one to look nice for, partly because of the Potions fumes. Autism might make him care less about his appearance. (He does care about hygiene though. Apparently he shaves regularly and Harry would certainly notice if Snape was dirty or smelly. His sallow skin and teeth have nothing to do with hygiene, it’s a result of his poverty and malnutrition.)

He has some sensory issues. He wears the same, a little baggy robes (they flutter as he walks). He’s sensitive to light: his Potions classroom is dim (it’s in the dungeons, but he could brighten it up with magic); he makes his DADA classroom dim, even though it’s no longer in the dungeons; when Harry comes to his first Occlumency lesson, Snape waits for him in a dark room. (You know, people don’t do things like that because they’re evil, it doesn’t make sense).

[heich0e]

hands and knees liv for knight osamu PLS

ask game: a christmas drabble from an established AU AU: the witch's song

osamu slumps down in his seat, a chill stuck so deep in the marrow of his bones he doubts that even the fire burning on the hearth across the room has any hope of easing it. he sniffles, running his hand over his bicep in hopes of speeding up the process of thawing himself out.

"it's FREEZIN' out there," atsumu, his brother, laments loudly in the seat across from him. his nose and ears are pink in a way osamu can only assume his own features mirror—they're twins, after all—and his hair is matted down to his forehead since the snowflakes previously resting in the strands have melted into nothing. atsumu's complaints persist, even as he scrubs at his running nose. "can't believe we're stuck in this shithole overnight."

"s'not so bad," osamu replies, even if he is half-frozen in his seat. "be grateful we managed to get ourselves a room, wouldja?"

not even his brother can argue with that—though he is so very good at it. the inn they'd found in this little village so far from the palace is full to bursting, the tavern around them bustling with activity from the guests and townspeople alike—if not for the knights' crest embroidered on their cloaks when they stumbled in from the blizzard outside, it's unlikely they'd have been offered lodging at all.

"how far are we from home?" atsumu asks instead of refuting his brother's point, picking up his tankard and taking a long swig of his ale.

"about a day's ride in good weather, a week's in whatever you call this," suna remarks dryly from his seat at the round table between the two twins, not bothering to look up from map in his hands. "even if the storm clears overnight, the path back will be treacherous with the snow. it'll take us two days at least to get through."

"two days?" atsumu whines. "yer kiddin'!"

suna looks at him with an expression that clearly conveys that he's doing nothing of the sort.

atsumu grumbles something under his breath, tipping his tankard back again to drain it.

"hope gin's doing alright in the storm," suna remarks, glancing out the tavern's cross-hatched windows into the stormy night.

gin had been sent ahead of the rest of them to report the knights' delay to the king. he was the best rider among them, and grew up in the northern corner of the kingdom where storms like this one were common, so of the four he was the best suited for the task. osamu wasn't so worried about him, even with the snow falling so heavily.

a man passes by the knights' table, rattling it a little. osamu shoots the ruddy cheeked man a warning glance, but the glazed-eyed look that meets him tells him that the guy's too drunk to heed any kind of warning. he stumbles away without so much as an apology, joining another rowdy group of men across the crowded room.

"you'd swear they'd never had a witch hunt around here, the way they're carryin' on."

osamu looks over at his brother, who'd been similarly surveying the room. half the town seemed to be packed into the inn's tavern, and all the boarding guests along with them.

"it's been over a decade since a witch was found in this county," suna remarks. "you know these kinds of things always draw a crowd."

"not like we even caught one," atsumu snorts wryly. "doubt there was even one here to begin with."

he's not wrong. neither of them are. the knights had been dispatched to investigate the rumours circulating in a little village half a day's ride away from where they presently find themselves about the appearance of a witch, but in the days they'd spent investigating they'd found little tangible evidence to prove it.

there's no such things as witches in this kingdom.

not anymore, at least.

but still, the king had to do his due diligence—sending a group of his men to dig into the whispers that had made their way back to the court. the storm had been the only unexpected part of their trip.

"hey sunarin, go get us another round," atsumu says, setting his empty tankard back down against the tabletop.

"fat chance," suna replies. "get your own."

"i'm still too cold to move," atsumu protests. he turns his attention to his brother, trying his luck there. "samu?"

osamu shakes his head. "tough."

"but you need a refill too!"

osamu glances down at the table towards his own beer—at least, the place where his beer ought to be—only to find the tankard missing. on the other side of the table, his brother sits with two empty tankards in front of him and a smug smile on his lips.

"you gluttonous little bast—!"

across the room, a sudden commotion catches all three knights' attention. a fight, possibly. maybe an accident. whatever it is, it sends all three men over to investigate, pushing their way through the crowd.

a man is sprawled on the ground unconscious when they manage to break through the fray, a mounted buck's head—or a previously mounted one—just beside him.

"what happened?" atsumu asks, surveying the scene—all of his childish petulance gone now as he assumes his duty.

"the twelve-point just fell off the wall outta nowhere! knocked the sucker out cold!" the barman who had clearly witnessed the ordeal explains, a bit incredulous. "that things been up there for half a century, must've come loose or something."

"serves the guy right considerin' how he was pawing at that poor girl," the young barback adds.

"girl?" suna asks.

"she was sittin' at the counter just a minute ago," the barback explains, looking around curiously. "the old drunk's been making passes at her all night."

"is she a guest?"

"she was," the barman explains. "checked out just now."

"checked out?" osamu asks incredulously. "she went out in this weather?"

the barman shrugs. "didn't ask."

osamu's head whips around as suna and atsumu continue trying to control the crowd, and get the unconscious man seen to.

across the room, osamu sees a figure slipping out into the night—the winter wind rushing in as they pull the door open. the hood of their cloak blows back, and reveals just the profile of their face.

a woman.

osamu freezes in place, watching as you turn and cast one last glance around the room. if you see him watching you, your eyes don't linger, and before he knows it you've slipped out into the night, the edges of your deep blue cloak trailing behind like curling tendrils of smoke.

he's following you out into the storm before he even has the chance to think.

it's quiet outside once the door slams closed behind him; a stark but welcome difference to the activity that rages on inside the inn.

it hasn't been long since osamu was last out, but somehow everything about the village seems stiller now around him. more peaceful. it's welcome, he thinks, even as the falling snowflakes land against his skin and melt into the warmth of his flushed cheeks.

he looks around for any sign of you. for any glimpse of that figure he'd come chasing after, but there's nothing.

not even a set of footprints in the fresh snow.

[achilles-rage]

achilles-rage's twelve days of christmas

day two: baby, it's cold outside (ft. donovan rocker)

summary: after spending the week in a cabin with a group of friends, you and rocker get snowed in.

word count: 5.3k

series masterlist

a/n: this sorta got away from me lol. usually my fics end up being around 2-3k words so idk how this happened. also i don't love how this ended, but it was like 3am when i was finishing it and i was exhausted lol. anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: smut, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ only!

You really, truly, hadn’t meant to put yourself in this situation, as much as it makes butterflies swarm in your belly.

For the holidays, you and some friends decided to rent a cabin in Northern California. It ended up being an odd mismatch of people going, since many of your friends were visiting family for most of December. You ended up with your best friend, her boyfriend, your two good friends that you met through your best friend, and one of her boyfriend’s friends, who you just happened to work with.

You haven’t spoken much to Rocker, but that didn’t stop all of you from enjoying your week; going skiing, taking walks in the forest around the cabin, and spending evenings in the hot tub on the back deck with festive cocktails that your friend found the recipe for online.

Honestly, Rocker was glad to be invited. Even more so when he came out onto the back deck the first night and saw you wearing your black bikini. His mouth went dry as he took in all of your dips and curves that were on display for his eyes, and as he lowered himself into the hot tub, he was extremely glad that you and your best friend were in the middle of loudly telling a story and no one was paying attention to him. 

If anyone were to tear their eyes away from your and your best friend talking over each other and cutting each other off in a fit of drunken giggles, they would’ve seen the very obvious bulge in his swim trunks, and he doesn’t think he’d be able to simply explain his situation away.

Each night when everyone ended the day in the hot tub, he couldn’t help that his eyes were glued to you. 

Glued to the way your tits sat in your bikini. 

Glued to the way your tummy moved when you laughed, or when you leaned over him to grab your phone sitting on your towel beside him. 

Glued to the way your eyes lit up when you told a story, or the way you looked so excited to be with people that you loved.

He couldn’t get enough of you.

It’s one thing to see you at work, dressed in your work appropriate outfits and acting like a put together professional. But it’s a complete other thing to see you like this.

Even so, he didn’t talk to you more than he had to. He had to keep it friendly enough that you wouldn’t think he disliked you, but professional enough that it wouldn’t make things awkward at work, which was proving difficult. All he wanted to do when he talked to you was make you smile and laugh, and to tell you how gorgeous you were, but he knew he couldn’t.

When the last night of your trip finally comes and goes, your best friend, her boyfriend, and your two other friends leave early in the morning, having to drive further to get to their families for Christmas. You, however, decide to sleep in. Your checkout time isn’t until 2:00 anyway, so you decide that it wouldn’t hurt to stay in your big, warm bed just a little bit longer. 

It only becomes a problem when you go downstairs to make yourself some coffee and see the flurry of snow outside the windows.

Your footsteps halt as you look out the sliding door to the back deck, seeing that there’s at least a foot of snow on the ground already, and it doesn’t look like the snow is stopping anytime soon. Shit, you think, what the hell are you gonna do now? Your car most definitely cannot get through all that snow, and everyone has already left.

You continue to the kitchen to make your coffee, knowing that there’s no point in panicking. Surely the owner of the cabin will understand that you have no way of leaving. And either way, you remember them saying that there was no other booking for the cabin for another few days when you first got here, anyway.

As you begin walking over to the couch from the kitchen, walking carefully with the steaming mug between your hands in a desperate attempt to warm yourself up, the door opens with a slam. You jump slightly, causing a few drops of coffee to spill over the rim of the mug and onto the hardwood floor.

“I thought you already left.” is all you say when you look up to see Rocker in the doorway, completely covered in snow.

“Wanted to take a hike before I left. Didn’t see snow in the forecast.” he grumbles as he begins to wipe the snow from his coat while stomping his feet on the doormat.

When he finally looks up from his feet, barely worried about the puddle now accumulating on the floor beneath him, he sees you in your tank top and sleep shorts, and he has to fight back a groan.

His eyes trail down your body once, only once, he makes sure of it, and then he strips off his coat, hat, gloves, and boots. His jeans are completely covered in snow, which is now sticking to the fabric as it begins to melt, and you feel yourself shiver as you take in his appearance.

“I guess we’re stuck here for a while.” you say in a timid voice, that fact just now registering in your brain as you stare at him. 

You’ve always thought he was attractive; from the moment you saw him at work you thought so. You couldn’t do anything about it, though, obviously. Neither of you were the other’s superior or anything, but if you even tried to flirt with him and things went wrong, it would just make things weird. And either way, you’re not sure he even likes you, not even as a friend. 

Sure, you spent the week together, but this was with a group of mutual friends, and you barely spoke to each other one on one. 

“I guess so.” is all he can bring himself to say. The thought of being here alone with you has his stomach in knots, and he can already tell that this is going to test his willpower. Even now, cold to the bone and face bright red from the cold wind, all he wants to do is feel your soft body against his, feel his lips on your skin.

With nothing more than a mumble about going to take a shower, he’s gone. You only snap out of your daze when he’s up the stairs and out of sight. You lick your lips, trying to calm your racing heart as the panic begins to settle in. 

You’re stuck in the middle of the woods, in a cabin that you don’t own, and with quite possibly the most attractive man you’ve ever met. What could go wrong?

You blink a few times, then remember the coffee you just spilled on the floor, and turn back towards the kitchen to get a paper towel. Once you’re finished with that, you head upstairs to change, figuring it would probably be better to actually be wearing a bra the next time you see Rocker. 

When he finally comes out of the bathroom and downstairs to the living room, you’re curled up on the couch in black leggings and a white cable knit sweater, absentmindedly reading the book you brought, but hadn’t actually had the time to pick up until now. 

“Made you a coffee. Figured you’d need it.” you tell him when he sits down on the other end of the couch. He lets out a soft sigh as he settles on the couch, giving you a small smile at your words.

“You didn’t have to-” he trails off, but leans forward to pick up the mug anyway. He can feel the coffee warm him up as soon as he takes a sip, but he’s sure that what actually makes his skin feel hot is that you thought to do this for him.

“You looked like you needed it. I’m surprised you made it back in one piece through all that snow.” you reply, and he grunts, a scowl making its way onto his face as he remembers the numbing cold he experienced when it started to snow at the furthest part of his hike.

“What are you still doing here? I thought everyone was leaving early?” he asks, turning to angle his body towards your side of the couch.

You shake your head, closing your book and setting it down in your lap. It’s not like you were really reading it anyway.

“Wanted to sleep in. Didn’t have anywhere to go, so I thought I’d take advantage of having the place to myself.” you tell him with a shrug, and he nods, humming softly.

“Sorry,” he says, and you furrow your brows, confused. “For ruining your alone time.” You smile at the sentiment, shaking your head quickly. 

“No, don’t worry about it. I’m glad I’m not here alone.” you reassure him, and he feels heat rush to his cheeks at the way you’re looking at him. He feels his heart racing at having your attention on him, and he barely knows what to do. He’s never felt like this before around a woman.

“Well, I’m gonna go see what we’ve got left in the kitchen. Let you get back to your book.” he says after a moment of silence. You nod, giving him a smile. 

You want to tell him no, that you want him to stay right where he is, but you don’t. All you do is pick your book back up, not looking away from him until he’s up from the couch and his back is towards you as he makes his way to the kitchen.

The next few hours pass by in silence, for the most part. When Rocker’s done in the kitchen, he goes up to his room to grab his own book, then settles in his spot on the couch again. 

As you both get entranced in your books, the silence is hardly awkward. It’s comfortable. It’s not until it’s almost dark outside that you’re torn from your book, feeling the couch shift under you as Rocker stands up.

“You getting hungry? I found some cans of soup in the kitchen.” he asks. You lower your book, then move to stand, but he stops you before you can.

“That’s okay, you stay here. I’ll make it.” he tells you, holding a hand out. “Tomato or chicken noodle?” 

“Chicken noodle, obviously.” you say, and he chuckles softly before nodding. 

You let out a sigh when he goes to the kitchen, listening to the banging of pots and pans moving as you look out the window, just barely able to see the snowflakes falling as the sun falls below the horizon.

When the soup is done, he brings both bowls over to the couch, and you turn on the TV so you don’t have to sit in silence. When the TV hums to life, a Christmas movie is just starting, so you leave it on whatever channel it’s on. 

When you’re both almost done with your bowls, the lights flicker a few times, then go out completely, leaving you both in complete darkness. All that’s heard is the clanking of bowls hitting the coffee table in front of you before both of your phone flashlights turn on, illuminating the room in an eerie glow as panic begins to set into your body.

Rocker can immediately tell that you’re on edge, and he scoots closer to you, looking at you with a soft gaze.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just the storm. I’m sure it’ll be back on soon.” he says in an attempt to calm you, but the wheels in your head are already turning as you look around the now suddenly too big cabin you’re in. This feels like the set of a horror movie. 

“We’re gonna freeze in here.” is all you say. You know it would be silly to actually voice the thoughts at the forefront of your brain; that a murderer is probably outside the cabin with an axe and a sinister smile on his face as he realizes he was successful at cutting the power.

“We’re not gonna freeze. It’ll take a while for it to actually get cold in here. And, we have a fireplace.” he says in a soothing voice, motioning to the beautiful brick fireplace that the TV is sitting on. You nod slowly as your eyes move over to the fireplace; your grip painfully tight on your phone. You should’ve charged it earlier, you think.

“Hey, you never told me how that story ended.” he says after a moment, watching your eyes dart from the windows lining the back wall of the house, to the fireplace, to the front door.

“What?” you ask in a slight daze, your gaze finally darting over to meet his. He repeats his sentence, and when you stare blankly at him, he clarifies.

“The story you told last night, about when you and Carter went on your road trip.” 

You can’t help but smile at the thought, a silent laugh escaping your throat. After you finished college, you and your best friend went on a road trip to celebrate, and last night in the hot tub, you both drunkenly tried to tell the story of when you stayed the night in Yosemite, but got distracted before you could finish it.

“Well, we got there at, like, one in the morning, so we obviously didn’t want to set up the tent. We slept in the car, but it got so hot that Carter rolled down the windows, but just a little bit, because of the bears.” you begin with a fond smile, a faraway look in your eyes as you recount the memory.

“I was passed out during the whole thing, but when I woke up, she was laying half out of the car, the back door wide open and her feet propped up on the seat. When we woke up, our whole bodies hurt from sleeping in the car, so we didn’t even hike or anything, we just sat in silence at the campsite. No tent or anything set up, just two lawn chairs out, because we were so cranky.” you finish, laughing softly. 

You finally focus on him again when you hear his chuckle, and when your eyes lock, he lets out a sigh of relief. You seem to be calming down, which he’s thankful for. 

“I thought Carter said that you were the one that slept outside of the car.” he teases after a moment, and you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“She’s a dirty little liar.” you reply with a laugh, which makes him laugh again.

You talk for about an hour, bringing up old stories, and anything else that happens to come up, when a shiver rips through your body. The house is getting cold without heat, and even with your thick sweater on and the blanket over your lap, you still feel the cold settling into your bones.

“Are you cold?” Rocker asks, his brows furrowing in concern. He doesn’t give you the time to answer, though, before he’s up and over to the fireplace, quickly working to get the fire started.

“Now I’m really glad you’re here. I’d definitely freeze if it was just me.” you say as you watch him. Your eyes focus on his broad shoulders, and you almost can’t believe that you can still see the outline of muscle even through his sweater as his body moves. 

You’ve seen him in tight shirts at work, of course, which is hard enough, but now, you can’t tear your eyes away from him. He just looks so soft. You can still see the firmness of his muscles, but with his sweater paired with seeing him in such a domestic setting, you think your heart is about to beat out of your chest.

You feel the flash of heat immediately when the spark of fire lights up the room, and you finally turn off your phone flashlight as the glow gets brighter.

You continue to talk until well into the night, and the gap between you two gets smaller and smaller as the time goes on. It’s not until you’re slumped against the back of the couch, eyelids threatening to fall shut that Rocker notices just how tired he is as well. 

He barely even noticed as he spoke to you, eyes locked on yours as he takes in the soft look on your face, and how adorable you look curled up on the couch beside him. If he was sure you felt the same about him, he would’ve pulled you into his arms hours ago and let you nuzzle into his chest to keep you warm.

“We should probably go to bed. Maybe the power will be back on in the morning, or the road will be cleared.” You nod with a quiet sigh. You really don’t want to go to bed. Mostly because you’d have to get out from under the blanket and go upstairs; you’re already cold enough sitting in front of the fire, but also because you don’t want to be any further away from him than how close you are now. 

His leg is touching yours ever so slightly, and one of his arms is draped over the back of the couch, his fingertips so close to touching the fabric of your sweater.

“We should sleep down here. It’s probably freezing upstairs.” he speaks again when you don’t respond. Your face brightens at the idea, but then almost immediately, your heart rate quickens at the idea of sleeping in here with him. 

You reach down to grab your phone, but your hand brushes his on the way to it, and he practically hisses as he feels your fingertips along the back of his hand.

“You’re freezing.” he says, his eyes wide as his eyes move up to meet yours. You shrug, pursing your lips slightly.

“It’s freezing in here.” you reply, and he huffs. He hates the idea of you being uncomfortable, and he wants more than anything to be able to fix it.

“How about we drag a mattress down here, set it up right in front of the fire. That should keep us warm.” Your throat goes dry at the idea. You immediately pick up on the fact that he says us and not you. Is he implying that you’re both going to sleep on the mattress?

“Okay.” you murmur after a moment, realizing that you’ve taken a second too long to reply. You give him a smile before you both stand up and make your way up to your rooms. You change into sweatpants and a hoodie, then make your way down the stairs with a few blankets and pillows from your own bed.

He’s already downstairs, his mattress, blankets, and pillows already all set up. You throw your blankets down on the foot of the bed, then settle in beside him, inviting the all-consuming smell of him filling your nostrils. 

Once you both have the blankets up to your hips, you both work to layer your blankets on top of his before lying down and pulling the blankets up to your chins, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes past your lips at the sight of all of the blankets covering your legs. 

You lay in silence for a few moments, and you’re still practically shivering, even under your mountain of blankets.

“Are you still cold?” Rocker asks, his voice cutting through the silence and snapping you out of your own head. 

Your head turns to face him, and you nod slightly, the tip of your nose and your fingers and toes ice cold.

“Come here.” is all he says, and you swallow, eyes darting down to the way he opens his arms and rolls over onto his side. 

You bite your lip as you turn around and move to press up against his chest. You let out a content sigh when you feel his warmth radiating through the fabric of both of your hoodies, heating you up back to front as his arm wraps around your plush middle and pulls your back flush against his chest.

“If I knew all it took was getting snowed in in a cabin to get you in my arms, I would’ve booked this trip a long time ago.” he says after a minute or two. His eyes widen slightly when he realizes what the hell he just said. He’s not sure if it’s the cold, or how good it feels to have you pressed up against him, but his whole body goes tense, waiting for your reaction.

“What?” you ask softly, your brows furrowing together. You don’t dare to turn back around, you’re afraid that if you do, he’ll see the slight upward turn of your lips.

“What, you didn’t think that I’ve been dying to get you like this? That I want you so bad it makes me look stupid?” he continues, having heard the hint of happiness in your voice. It’s now or never, he thinks.

“I don’t know, I just didn’t think you liked me.” It’s true; all week he hadn’t bothered to speak to you much, and there were times today where he was just so goddamn nervous to talk to you that he could barely look at you. You didn’t see the nervousness though; he hid it well. Instead, you took it as disinterest.

“Didn’t like you? Sweetheart, if it was up to me, you’d already be mine.” he says, his voice full of disbelief as he raises up onto his elbow, forcing you to turn your upper body until your back hits the mattress, letting him look into your eyes.

“Yeah?” you whisper breathlessly, feeling like you just got the wind knocked out of you. You can see the way his eyes gleam in the soft glow of the fireplace, the way it highlights his jawline and the furrow of his brows, and all you want to do is kiss him.

“Yeah.” he replies in the same tone, and before you know it, his lips are on yours. 

The kiss starts out slow, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away, but when you don’t, he lets the hand that was previously draped over your soft tummy grab your jaw, kissing you deeper.

A soft whimper escapes your lips as his tongue licks into your mouth, and you feel dizzy when he tilts your head up into the kiss just slightly.

“God, you’re beautiful.” he whispers against your lips, and you hum softly, your frigid hands now holding onto his face. 

While one arm holds himself up, the other hand that’s holding your jaw trails down your body until it gets to the waistband of your sweatpants. His fingers dance along the waistband while he continues to kiss you greedily, and when he pulls back for a second to gauge your reaction, all you can muster is a desperate “please.”

He wastes no time, and dips his fingers under your sweatpants and panties, moving down to your dripping core. You whimper as his fingers glide across your wet folds, and his takes this time to attach his lips to your neck, making you tilt your head back. 

You bite your lip as he pushes two fingers into you, moving achingly slow as he feels you stretch around his fingers. He pulls back from your neck and looks into your eyes, his eyes full of lust and pupils blown.

“Let me hear you, sweetheart.” he tells you when he sees you biting your lip, increasing the pace of his fingers without warning. Your entire body feels hot as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing lazy circles over the sensitive bud, and you moan, bucking your hips against his hand.

He continues to kiss and nip at your neck, teeth digging into the flesh, and tongue moving across spots in an attempt to soothe your skin as he continues to move his fingers in and out of you quicker. You mewl loudly, however, when he curls his fingers, hitting that spot inside you that has your toes curling.

“Donovan.” you whisper breathlessly as you arch your back, feeling yourself approaching the edge. He leans back from your neck to look into your eyes, continuing to circle your puffy clit with his thumb as his two fingers continue to curl up against you.

“Cum for me, baby.” he whispers, and after a few moments, you’re cumming, clenching around his fingers as you moan loudly.

You watch with hooded eyes as he pulls his fingers away from your pulsing cunt, then raises them to his mouth and licks them clean. You swallow, chest heaving as he sucks your juices from his skin, making sure to get everything he can.

“You taste so good, sweetheart. If I wouldn’t suffocate under all those blankets, I’d make you cum on my tongue before I fuck you.” he practically growls, and you can’t stop the quiet laugh from escaping your lips.

“Next time.” is all you say before you bring your lips to his again, moaning when you taste your sweetness on his tongue. 

You both work to get your sweatpants off, the fabric catching on the bedsheets and blankets as you try to kick them off. When you finally get them off, your hands are back on his cheeks again, kissing him sloppily.

Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by your need for him, your desperation for him. You can’t wait any longer, and in one swift movement, you’re pushing him onto his back and straddling his lap.

He lets out a huff of surprise, but he welcomes your weight on him, his hands immediately going to your hips as you begin to grind against his lap. You can feel his hard cock against your clit as you grind against him, and you can’t take it anymore. 

You lift your hips off him just enough to take him out of his sweatpants, and when you do, you lower onto him without warning, mewling as you adjust to his size. 

He’s sure he’s never felt anything so good, so heavenly, as you sink onto him, your walls clenching around him as he grips your thighs tightly. When you begin to move, he has to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment, knowing that if he doesn’t pull it together, that he’s going to cum too soon. 

When you begin to bounce on his cock, his hands move up and claw at your hoodie, desperate to see your soft tummy and your tits bounce with each movement. 

You reach down to the hem of your hoodie and pull it off in one swift motion, giggling breathlessly as his hands immediately move to the clasp of your bra. You let him slide the straps down your arms when it’s unclasped, and he groans when he sees your bare tits spring free.

Once you’re completely bare, you reach down and try to push his hoodie up his torso, and he takes the hint, lifting his back off the bed slightly to pull it off and throw it somewhere to be found later.

You continue to sink down onto his cock, momentarily moving in unrhythmic bounces as you reach behind you and pull the blankets up to rest against your back. It’s still cold in here, as much as he is lighting a fire inside of you.

You lean forward, your hands falling on either side of his head to keep the blanket up over you, and Rocker thinks he’s died and gone to heaven as he watches your face twist in pleasure.

“So good for me, baby. Keeping bouncing on my cock.” he purrs, and you moan as his hands move up to cup and squeeze your breasts.

“Feel so good.” you murmur as you continue to move against him, switching between moving up and down on his cock, and grinding against his lap. He moves his hands back down to your thighs, squeezing the supple flesh hard, and he raises his mouth up to one of your breasts, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the bud. 

You whimper loudly as he licks and sucks on your breast, leaving bite marks and dark spots in his wake before switching to the other one. 

He can feel your movements become sloppy, and he knows you’re getting close to the edge again. He lowers his head back to the pillow, and his fingers move up from your thighs to your hips before he grips them tightly and bucks his hips up against yours. 

He feels impossibly deeper with each thrust, and you can feel your legs starting to shake as you get dangerously close to the edge. It’s only when you feel his cock twitching that you know he’s close too.

“You want me to cum inside you, pretty girl? Fill you up?” he rasps, and all you can do is nod, moaning loudly. You look deep into each other's eyes as you both breathe heavily, both desperately chasing your highs, and in a few more thrusts, Rocker’s balls tighten, and he lets go with a loud groan. 

You feel his cum painting the inside of your cunt, and that’s all it takes for you to fall over the edge as well, body going taut as you clench around his cock.

You practically collapse onto his chest, cheek pressed against his hot skin as you come down from your highs. You can feel him softening inside you, and your mixed releases dripping out of your fucked out cunt, but you can’t bring yourself to care. One of his hands is rubbing your back absentmindedly while the other holds your thigh, and your body feels so warm now that you’re pressed against him like this. 

After a few minutes, your breathing is back to normal, and you finally lift yourself off of him, whining softly as you clench around nothing. 

Then, you move to lay in front of him again, letting him pull your back against his chest as he presses a chaste kiss to the back of your neck.

“You’re so good, baby. Love having you like this.” he whispers in your ear, and you feel yourself shiver when his hot breath hits your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

“And all it took was a snow storm.” you joke softly as your eyelids become heavy. You feel his chest vibrate as he chuckles quietly, then he presses a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“You warming up now?” he asks as your hand comes up to rest against his, the one holding your soft tummy, and it’s not ice cold. You nod, smiling softly as your eyes flutter closed.

“Good. Go to sleep, baby.” he says, and you nod again, humming softly.

It doesn’t take either of you long to fall asleep, and when you wake up in the morning to see that the power is back on, you’re both a little disappointed. You still stay in bed for a while, however, limbs entangled with each other’s and lips finding the other’s as you talk in whispered tones, afraid that if you talk any louder, you’ll disturb the atmosphere you’ve created just by being together.

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[filurig]

some domesticated Beasts in pareidolia... moar info below

fatfin perch:

the fatfin perch is derived from perca fluviatilis perch, and has been bred to be both larger, fatter and more docile in order to make herding, breeding and keeping them easier for sjörå. sjörå usually section off a section of a lake they inhabit and keep their perch there in order to keep them safe from other predators. and also with the help of their guard pikes...

guard pike:

derived from the northern pike, the guard pike is unmistakeable. selectively bred to be intelligent and loyal, these pikes are kept by sjörå as guarding/herding animals. every sjörå collective usually keeps a fair amount of these pikes in order to ensure the safety of their perch population.

tomteget:

a goat breed which has been bred by tomtar, its a very large animal for a goat and is used by gnomes as mounts and livestock. very robust and several other breeds derived from this one exist which have been adapted for different purposes (such as milk, meat, etc.). its possible that the idea of a "christmas goat" may stem from the tomtar's tendency to travel with these goats.

gloson:

a domesticated version of a relative of the wild boar, the gloson is both huge and striking in its appearence, fitting for the trolls. their wild equivalent is essentially exctinct and its current population are entirely kept by trolls at this point. used mostly as a guarding animal, but sometimes as livestock - it depends on the region (northern trolls tend to use them as the former, southern as the latter). humans have wrongfully interpreted their mane as "sharp" and able to be used to slice the gloson's target, but this is a misconception - while the gloson has quills, they aren't what is used for this manner of attack. instead, the trolls tend to provide them with sharp back armour if they choose to utilize their gloson for battle.

[thethreegoblins]

Taking the time to listen to the critmas album cuz I wanted to listen to it For Real for the first time and- obviously there's not a single one I don't like but

Jesus Christ. Long text below

Pumat for the first song was an unexpected choice but damn it's so fun silly.

Laura's Silent Mind. That's it, just Silent Mind.

I found Naughty & Nice very cute, I have no notes. It took me a second to picture Scanlan and not just Sam, it's a flavor of bit he's done so many times I can't separate the two, but if anything that just makes the gnome make that much more sense.

I have a playlist specifically for songs like Nothin' Under The Tree and I need more. Taliesin please. Glad Ashton adopted the Hells as their best friends to spend the holidays with, that's a high bar to clear.

O Mighty Nein had me dead on the first couple of lines, by the end I was just crying like a little bitch. I'm not immune to cat purrs and sung verses about Caleb's found family. "Fort, doch nicht vergessen."

Twelve Days Of Grogmas would be my favorite if everything else wasn't just.. gold. Everything is gold. I laugh at every PINTS OF ALE line, this song is just Joy.

And probs my favorite, Cold Inside. I need more singing Pâté, more Pâté threatening chet. More scenic hells bells songs. More Marisha singing, period. FCG sounds amazing, too, Chetney is very well written and made me realize Travis has a penchant for characters that trail off. And- Imogen istg. Did we just blow Chetney up into the sky like Mushu on Mulan? I'll be periodically searching for animatics for this one because it paints a Very good picture for every verse (and I'm not nearly talented enough to do it myself)

Was reveling on the Feelings that Cold Inside left behind just to be hit with Winter Anymore. Nothing like a sad sapphic ballad right after what will be in my mind the Imodna anthem. So an average sapphic musical number.

Y'all

DECK THE BEAR?

And.. I know this is parasocial as fuck but Critmas made me giddy and actually Like the holidays for a minute or two. A bit of it is that Christmas for the northern hemisphere is Very different here (we haven't seen snow in my hometown since I think 2009, and that was a weather outlier) and we don't really hear about the holidays unless they're very fkn cold and snowy, so this was a nice change of pace to me, I guess Critical Role Land isn't that much different from this town. Brings them closer to me, personally, envisioning flipflops, Santa on the beach, no snow to be found and yet the stockings hang and the Christmas trees are forever present. When family is hard at best, this kinda thing is difficult.

These people are coming for my marbles istg

Closing thoughts: it didn't even occur to me that this would be a season highlight, a critical role holiday record? I remember vividly that one ad read Sam did some time ago (was that in the pandemic? For DND beyond I think?) where everyone sang, I'm really happy somebody, anybody, in the team said "what if we Actually..." because they've given me (and I'm sure countless others) new music to love, by the people we love, and with the characters we are so very normal about.

[crimsonred-hi]

Masterlist

Hozier x Reader

Style, or lack there of

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader.

Summary: Where did Hozier suddenly get all his style from? He comes out of his 4 year hiding for ‘Unreal Unearth’, all the flannel have been replaced with shirts and all his jeans have been replaced with nice trousers. Why? Because he got a girlfriend, who doesn’t let him walk out the house looking like a butch lesbian

Cats or Dogs

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader.

Summary: reader is a cat person, her boyfriend, Andrew, is very much a dog person. And at this point in their lives, they want another living thing to take care of in their shared home. The age old question of cats or dogs stumps them, because they can’t agree

Freckles

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader.

Summary: the summers in Ireland are slowly getting hotter, and that makes the garden seem more inviting.

Are you cold?

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader.

Summary: Your from a warmer climate, and despite friends and family telling you that you wouldn’t cope the cold, you decided to spend Christmas and the time after it with your lover in Ireland… and it’s fuckin cold

Da, it’s Da

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader.

Summary: in Ireland and the northern parts of England (where I’m from), a child would never call their father ‘daddy’, for the mere thought of ‘Daddy is for gals with issues and gay men with bigger issues’ (which is true). So, I believe Andrew would want to be called ‘Da’ like most other fathers… so yeah, Andrew arguing with his and Reader’s child about what the child should call him.

Everything, Everywhere

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader.

Summary: his lover is laying there, laying under 6 feet under the grass. Gone to the world. The love of his life: gone. Yet, he stills comes every week, to smile at her, and tell her that one day he’ll join her, but he promised her to live to the fullest… so he will.

What do you mean grey?!

Pairing: dad!Andrew Hozier-Byrne x wife!Reader.

Summary: Andrew with his beautiful hair and beard, he’s very proud of them both: of the length, the colour, the health of it. And one day, one very long day, where he’s spent his whole day being stern dad to his daughter, and at the end he gets in bed with his wife and the mother of his child just for her to notice something in his hair.

Mine : Ours

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader.

Summary: Andrew meets his son for the first time, and he’s a bit angry about it. Because after 10 years, reader kept his son from him.

Work Song

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader

Summary: Andrew and his lover have a little cuddling after their time together.

Grip

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader

Summary: At a dinner party, he’s jealous over your coworker.

Wash Day

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader

Summary: Wash day is Sunday, so Andrew and his girlfriend get in the shower together (not sexually).

Vinyl

Pairings: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader

Summary: He’s got new vinyls coming out, but his girl needs to approve first. Because her opinion is most important.

Headcannons

Hozier

Age Gap

Controversial Age Gap

Pregnancy

[hellishjoel]

when you know, you know (mini chapter)

3.2k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Main Masterlist | Notifications Blog | Ko-Fi

summary: A flashback shows Tommy’s crew enjoying Christmas Eve at the diner. Frankie makes his first move with a New Year’s kiss. 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), half-ass editing because I’m exhausted (I’ll reread it tomorrow and fix any errors I catch, food and alcohol consumption, reader is has no physical description, swearing, smoking, pet names (princess, asshole ((yes it’s a pet name to me))), christmas/holiday themes, a first kiss is shared that starts this whole journey.

A/N: look at these stinkin cute dividers I made for Table for Two! like shut up! I hope this mini chapter holds you guys over for a little as I also give my focus to cherry thrill and delicate with the beautiful and talented @thetriumphantpanda! also thank you to @undercoverpena for helping me dial down my brain and helping me focus on writing what I really want to write first 💛

Tommy’s Diner. One year ago. The recollection of events is slightly impaired due to alcohol consumption.

The last time it snowed on Christmas Eve in Texas was 2012. It wasn’t a normal, pretty, White Christmas. It was snow. And sleet. And pea-sized balls of hail. The winter storm began in Breckenridge, near Denver. It grew and spiraled, traveling southeast to Northern Texas. 

By the time the storm saw Austin, it barely affected the city in terms of transportation. Just beautiful little white flakes, all of them unique, not one like the other. And it was dazzling. 

Now, ten years later, in a mythically euphoric way, they land on the pavement in front of your sneakers. A snowflake lands on the toe of your shoe, melting quickly into the material. You let out an appreciative hum and bundle yourself tighter in your jacket, letting the size swallow you. 

The diner bustles inside. It’s busy, very busy. You thought people would like to be at home on Christmas Eve, celebrating with their families before the holiday rounded out in the following twenty-four hours. But some people have traditions here. 

Older couples who met here on a first date still make their anniversary appearances. There’s this older couple you see like clockwork every year, Maude and Gil. 

Gil said he met Maude by accident. Took off from the lumber mill in a hurry to grab a late lunch. Maude was there on a date with another man. 

But Gil said it was love at first sight, watching her push her straw around the milkshake glass and trying to seem moderately entertained by her date. Gil thought they were a total match the instant he laid eyes on her. 

But Maude didn’t think the same. Not at the time, anyway. 

Gil said it was fine because he knew. He just knew. Even if Maude thought their timing wasn’t right at the moment, he’d try again when it was right. 

Maude said she found it endearing; how he’d chase, beg, concede, anything he had to do to get her to at least go out with him. He was persistent. And it paid off. 

Now, all these years later, with kids and grandkids, they were celebrating a date night before they travel to their daughter’s house for Christmas tomorrow. 

After penning in their order, you can’t help but smile at the couple. 

“You two are really cute.” A sweet grin is shared between the two patrons before they turn back to you. 

“When you know,” Gil pauses to take Maude’s hands across the table, wrinkles forming around old gold wedding bands, “you know.” 

You usually don’t get along well with older people. Sometimes you didn’t know how to talk to them. You didn’t understand the references they made and felt awkward trying to navigate back to the menu selections. That, or sometimes they were just plain rude, but you suppose anyone at any age can be fucking rude. 

In this part of Texas, some folks felt all too comfortable pushing religion or politics into your lap. And when they weren’t doing that, they were complaining about things that were out of your control. 

That light is giving me a headache. 

You don’t have any trees to park my car under. 

The mashed potatoes aren’t mashed enough. Like, sorry guys, but that sounds like a problem between you, the line cooks, and your denture implementation specialist. 

Then there were the more generous guests, those who tip well and sit in your section because they like your playful personality. Where talking doesn’t feel like a chore, and you’re so goddamn funny that they laugh at everything you say. 

There’s this ongoing joke between you and these older gentlemen who come every Sunday morning for breakfast. It goes something like,

“Hey, doll, did you put the whiskey in the coffee like I asked ya to?”

You’d playfully gasp, widen your eyes, and look at them with your mouth agape before you lightly smacked their shoulders with your ticket pad. “I certainly did not, my manager would have a fit.” You’d tease, wink, and pour a little extra coffee to top them off as they snickered. They were just guys young at heart who enjoyed making you laugh. 

Frankie would play cards with them on his break. Spin the chair around and have the back against the table, thick thighs straddling the seat as he nibbled on a toothpick. He always lost to them at poker but won at blackjack. 

Unfortunately, someone really did put some sort of schnapps in the coffee. The staff’s coffee. You weren’t going to name names, but you definitely saw who did it. And you weren’t telling. Especially since you were enjoying your third cup. 

Christmas music plays loudly in the back of the kitchen, the restaurant having been closed for the past hour. But for the love of God, Rudy couldn’t get you all to clean up the place and go home. 

“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock! Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring! Snowin' and blowin' up bushels of fun, now the jingle hop has begun!” The entire kitchen sings, all terribly off-tune, but it makes it all the funnier. 

You double over in laughter as Carla, your five-foot-tall manager attempts to put a Santa hat on Frankie’s head. He simply crosses his arms and shakes his head, unwilling to bend down and let her put the stupid thing on already. 

Finally, with a roll of his eyes, he kneels down and takes the red Santa hat like a crown to a king. 

“You’re only fueling his ego!” You boo, Carla walking over and cheering her cup of coffee with yours. 

The kitchen is noisy after hours. 

All the crew has funneled to the back, sitting on countertops as Lou mops the floor and tells people to stay out of his way. Water sprays from multiple sink faucets as the dishwashers clean at a leisurely pace, too busy singing a rendition of whatever Christmas song played next off the radio. 

The old dishwasher hums along as it cleans. People talk or sing over each other, and it’s just loud. You’d be overstimulated if it wasn’t for the spiked coffee in your hand. 

“You put this booze in here, didn’t you?” You whisper to Carla as she circles back to your little corner of the counter, looking straight ahead as if she didn’t hear you. She’s as silent as a rock, which you can respect. 

“Alright, some manager you are.” 

She snickers at that, playfully slaps your thigh with the back of her hand, and watches the line cooks and busboys lazily scrub pots, pans, and plates, too busy howling out what they think are the correct lyrics to the classic Mariah Carey song playing. 

“Frankie!” Carla growls, her actual manager tone coming out now. Even Rudy shudders at the lion’s roar. 

Frankie looks up, wide-eyed like a kid about to get freshly yelled at. He’s got a cigarette hanging from his lips and a lighter one centimeter away, finger on the trigger ready to light it. 

“Go outside and smoke that, you know I can’t come home smelling like cigarette smoke! My kids will get mad at me. Shoo! Shoo!” She ushers with her hands, Frankie smirking against the cig and holding his hands up in playful defense. 

“Sorry Mama Bear, I’ll take it outside.” 

Carla playfully scoffs as he ducks down to kiss her cheek, giving him a roll of her eyes in return. 

Frankie’s eyes meet yours and he nudges his thumb into the pack of cigarettes, one inching out towards you. 

“Come on, princess. Let’s go.” 

You purse your lips to try and stop the smile, but you can’t help it. You push yourself off the counter and join him outside, the kitchen door closing behind you with a whoosh. 

It’s colder outside now, and the snowflakes fall faster but still melt as soon as they hit the pavement. 

You walk with Frankie to the loading dock. Tommy’s doesn’t have an actual loading dock, but it has an attached storage garage that houses old equipment. The concrete has questionable stains of varying colors and sizes. A game you and Frankie play is coming up with dramatic stories for each one. 

The large maroon puddle was definitely a murder covered up by a secret crime syndicate. The dark green dribbles every few inches are from a lizard-like monster, trailing its way through the garage where its buried itself under the concrete until it’s resurrection day in one thousand years. Or so they say. 

Frankie pulls a blue tarp off an old brown leather couch, both of you falling into it with a heavy sigh. 

Tonight was exhausting. The holidays in general were. 

“You goin’ anywhere for Christmas?” Frankie asks as you hold out your hand for the cigarette, but he lifts it to your lips instead. 

A playful smirk dances on your lips as you lean in and take the cigarette obediently, both of Frankie’s hands coming up as one flicks the lighter and the other shields the snowy breeze. 

The nicotine swirls down your throat and chills your chest, a nice contrast between the warmth the alcohol has spread through your tummy. Your eyes magnetize to the pretty orange blaze glittering at the end of the cigarette. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, smoke billowing through the air and then into nothingness. “I took off from Christmas to New Year’s, so I’ll be at home with family. You?” 

Frankie makes a noncommittal noise, distracted by lighting his cigarette. He flicks the spark wheel multiple times, but the flame only grows smaller and smaller. To Frankie’s relief, it catches. He takes the dead lighter, damn near out of juice, and makes a long chuck to the dumpsters where it clatters deep inside. Dink-bong. 

“I’ll be here- wait, until New Year’s?” Frankie asks in disappointment, head tilting affectionately like a dog’s. 

You’re a bit shocked by the dramatic reaction, eyes scanning over him.  

“Uh.. yeah. Why?” 

He’s silent for a bit, eyes avoiding yours before he looks out beyond the freeway and into the void. You shrug it off and lift the cigarette to your lips again. If Frankie wants to say something, he will. 

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” You nod your head towards the snow and Frankie agrees as he looks up at the sky with a fond little smile. 

“So, no New Year’s at Tommy’s for you this year, huh?” He circles back, and you’re all too curious. 

“Why do you care so much if I’m here on New Year’s or not?” Your demeanor is playful, but he’s dancing around the subject and you’d wish he’d just come out and say it. 

But he wanes on your temper and plays oblivious. “Was that Maude and Gil out there earlier?” 

You roll your eyes and shuffle closer to him on the couch. Frankie does the same. “Yeah. I wish they came here more than just on Christmas Eve. They’re so refreshing. They’re older, but cool.”

Frankie nods and lets the calm settle between you both. 

“Before Tommy retired and moved to Florida... Or ran and hid from his bookie due to his crippling gambling addiction, he said that he was long-time friends with Maude and Gil. They’ve been coming here for like… fifty years.” 

You scoff in disbelief and glance over to him. “Who would want to come to this dump for fifty years?” 

Frankie shrugs and smiles, leaning into your side as you lay your head on his shoulder. He’s warm. 

“I guess it’s all about perspective. We see Tommy’s as clock in, clock out. Run around until our feet hurt and work until we’re sweating pigs. The customers, people like Maude and Gil, they see this place as where their lives began.” Frankie’s eyes look beautifully starstruck in this moment. “Where they started, and where they reminisce. Where it all began. It’s perspective, princess.”

And just like that, he crashes the moment. Again. 

With a roll of your eyes, you sit up properly, shoulders shuddering inward from the cold. You shove off his hand that has somehow gone below the radar on your thigh, crossing your leg over the other and tugging down the skirt of your uniform.

“You gotta stop fucking calling me that incessant nickname, asshole” 

Frankie scoffs around the exhale of his cigarette. “Why don’t you make me?” 

“Oh, I could definitely make you, but where’s the fun in that, Francisco?” You smirk in his direction, but something shifts. 

His lips part but he’s at a loss for words, and his eyes dance over your face like he’s trying to memorize each pretty eyelash and the slope of your cheekbones. 

A weird feeling of charged energy zigzags back and forth between your bodies, stitching you closer together. Where the flirting goes a little too far and something could happen. It could keep going, like a snowball effect, both of you unwilling to stand down to the other. How far could things go? How far would you let them go?  

His eyes look incredibly deep brown in the night, but they pour into you all the same. The red bandana tied around his forehead keeps his unruly dark curls out of his eyes as the wind makes the strands flutter. He’s overwhelmingly handsome. You can feel your breath change, but you don’t want him to notice how your chest falls shallow under his eyeline. 

His husky voice breaks the pretty silence. 

“If you’re not here for New Year’s, then how are you supposed to be my New Year’s kiss?” 

An unbeatable smile breaks out across your face, feeling your stomach summersault. Oh, Frankie. 

You playfully shrug as you look beyond the loading dock at the snow that amounts to nothing, still melting upon greeting the asphalt. 

“Well. Sounds to me like you’re kissing the back of your hand on New Year’s. Just the same as last year. And the year before that. And the year before that.” 

“I’d rather kiss your ass, princess.” 

“Oh, I bet you would.” You both snicker and shake your heads. He’s still staring all too longingly. 

“Come on.” He speaks softer now. His head tilts so it’s closer to your level. “Lemme kiss you.” His head is hanging to the side, and he speaks with need. His tongue lines his lips and your breath staggers again. 

Your and Frankie’s cigarettes burn with abandonment, dangling between fingers settled in your respective laps. 

Why can’t a fire break out in the kitchen right now? It would be convenient. Anything to get Frankie from getting too close. Not that you wouldn’t mind kissing him, you just fear that you’d like it a little too much. And he would like it too. What if things changed?

All you can think to do is try to lighten the mood with a little teasing because it feels all too serious right now. 

“You don’t wanna kiss me.” 

Frankie scoffs and suckles on his cigarette again like it’s the most unbelievable thing he’s ever heard. “I would, I really would.” 

Fuck, it’s not working. “What if it’s weird? We work together.”

“It won’t be.” 

“How do you know?” You tease. 

“I just know.”

“Okay, but how do you know.” Frankie shrugs nonchalantly like it’s no big deal. “When you know, you know.” 

Surprise lines around your wide eyes, recognizing the all too familiar sentiment shared by Maude and Gil. The sentence you didn’t realize had so much importance to you until Frankie uttered the same words. 

“I- what did you say?” You ask, surely he didn’t just share the same expression. Or spare the same meaning. 

A cocky smirk tilts the right side of his mouth upwards. “When you know, you know.” He repeats unphased, eyes twinkling all too sweetly as he looks at you like you’re a wonder. 

It’s just one kiss. Nothing else will happen. You wouldn’t let it. 

Before you can overthink any further, before you can decline, his large palm casts itself over your cheek, thumb skimming across the silky flesh. Warmth floods your body, and it feels like time has frozen. The snow falls silently around you both, a soft whisper of the wind hissing through the air. 

“This alright?” He whispers. You feel so caught off guard, unable to respond with words, just a lousy excuse of a nod. 

The heel of his palm guides your jawline upward, lips mutually parting as you take each other in. Anticipation fills the air, fuels the rapid beat slamming around in your chest and nudging itself up in your throat. 

Your lips meet, warm and plush. You’re sure he’s not this gentle all the time, but he is in this moment. It’s tender and delicate, slowly taking you all in as if this is the last time he’ll ever get this chance. It probably will be. The bite of each other’s cigarettes tangle in your mouths. 

It’s unclear who deepens the kiss first, but there’s more of a desperation to this part. Both of his palms are on your cheeks now, bodies inching closer as your smaller palms fist lightly at the neck of his dingy white tee. You’re keeping him close, fuck, it’s so undeniable. 

The intensity that follows highlights a level of emotion you had far long ago locked away. Shoved into a locked crate and stored in secret under your bed. You didn’t like those feelings, they were cute looking from afar, but up close, they were monstrous. But you can’t deny you enjoy the movement of his lips against yours, both of you melting into a sweet rhythm that’s lined with desire. 

His tongue explores your mouth. Your fingers dance up the dip of his neck and sink into the warm flesh. He must like the feeling of your skin on his because he lets out a low hum of appreciation. The charged energy you felt before was now flooded, running on all cylinders to keep up with the feelings you and Frankie were exploring for the first time. 

It’s heated and flickers like his dead lighter. The bond grows deeper at this newfound connection, much different than a simple peck on the lips for a New Year’s kiss. 

It feels like it lasts forever but it’s gone so soon. You find yourself pulling away first, despite it taking all of you to do so. Frankie’s head naturally follows your own, wanting more, drunk off the taste. His lips brush yours again as you laugh. 

Both of you grin before you can stop yourselves. 

“Shit,” he mutters, pulling away finally as warmth kisses the apples of his cheeks. His thumb lines his lower lip like he wants to remember the electricity and the pattern of your kiss. “Sorry.” 

“No, it’s- fine.” You’re all flustered, both of you shifting farther away on the couch. 

“I got carried away,” 

“Yeah. You did.” Lie. 

“I liked it.”

“I know you did, Francisco.” The tight-lipped grin on your lips won’t disappear. But you could. 

Everything that follows is muddled sentences and interjections on both your parts. You start. 

“I’m gonna head back inside. Carla probably needs some help-”

“Yeah-”

“Are you-”

“Yeah, I’ll stay out here for a few more.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay.” 

You’re both nodding and you’re scrabbling for balance as your feet pace on shaky ground. You nudge your jacket tighter around your body as you drop the cigarette and smother it with the toe of your shoe. 

A shaky breath leaves you as you walk away and smooth out your uniform, thankful to have your back to him as you walk off and return to the kitchen’s back door. Or else he might see you smiling sheepishly. 

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[mousegirlheart]

Is Christmas sexy in the southern hemisphere?

Up here we have one sexy song. Santa baby.

Does the summer weather cause a sexier holiday season? Most things in the northern hemisphere (us bias) is very mindful very demure.

[this stemmed from watching a Christmas episode of Bondi beach]

you tell me