#I hope he gets to celebrate Easter for the chocolate

[friedfriedchicken]

My vibe rn

[huboi]

serpent’s tongue ♡.°୭̥ ୨୧

divider by @lil-liaa

╰┈➤ summary; aot guys pleasuring you with their split tongue

╰┈➤ includes; modern! au, gn! afab! reader (reader isn’t really mentioned much), oral (reader! receiving), face-sitting, hair pulling (character! receiving), 69, vouyerism(?) in porcos’ (he eats you out in front of reiner), finger-fucking, eren jeager, connie springer and porco galliard with a split tongue, everyone’s 18+

╰┈➤ a/n; pls lemme know if you have any issues with the tags (I don’t want to make people uncomfortable, that’s the last thing I want) minors DNFI this is 18+ content!, blank blogs dni. this can be read by anyone (eg. transmascs, non binary’s, poc etc.) apologies if this isn’t the best smut fic out there, I’m a bit rusty. also HAPPY EASTER to those that celebrate! hope you have plenty of chocolate this Easter <3

EREN JEAGER

eren is DESPERATE to have you sit on his face, just place your juicy cunt on his face, he doesn’t care. worried about taking his breath away? he doesn’t gaf, sit on his face already

he knows how to use his tongue, he may not have slept around much but he’s a quick learner, so he knows which buttons to push to make you reach your high quickly, his split tongue comes in perfect for doing the job, makes it 10x more pleasurable

tug on his hair, PLEASE, he’s a whore for having his hair pulled, like he’ll full on whimper whilst eating you out if you do that, and the vibrations just add so much more to the experience

oh btw if he’s grown a bit of facial hair, you bet your ass it just makes it feel 100x better, with the feeling of his stubble against your nether regions just😫

CONNIE SPRINGER

favourite position to eat you out is 69

he loves the feeling of your moans’ vibrating deliciously against his cock, it just gets him even more eager in the act

not only does he have a split tongue, but he also has a tongue piercing, so that means double the pleasure

loves tongue fucking you whilst rubbing his nose against your clit

he’s a very messy eater, I’m talking juices everywhere, from his entire face to his neck and chest area, you don’t know how the hell he manages to get it there but it’s hot either way

PORCO GALLIARD

porco is probably the worst when it comes to containing his urges

like when you’re at a party, my guy’s one minute away from tearing your bottom half clothes clean off and diving straight into that pussy

he has a massive oral fixation, like massive

one time when you guys were at reiners’, casually hanging out and porco just had to drag you into reiners’ room (he was in the living room) and eat you out there, finger fucking you whilst desperately licking at your clit with his split tongue

reiner, not knowing what he was walking into, entered the room, a blush evident on his cheeks at the sight of porco in between your legs, slurping your juices as if he was parched

you obviously noticed reiner first, feeling a rush of excitement at the knowledge of someone, your boyfriends’ hot friend, watching you in such a lewd position

porco removed his mouth, causing you to whine at the sudden halt in pleasure

“are ya’ gonna stand there, gaping like a fish? or are ya’ gonna watch?” porco huffed out, clearly pussy drunk, before shoving his mouth back where it belongs

© content belongs to @huboi on tumblr, DO NOT REPOST ON ANY SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS WHATSOEVER

[chloe-skywalker]

Easter Celebrations - Billy Hargrove

Billy x Fem!reader

Warnings: religion is mentioned if that is a warning?

Word count: 648

Summary: Billy’s family doesn’t really do holiday’s. Not like most families at least. So why not join in and see how his girlfriends family celebrates them. He was invited after all.

Authors Note: Don’t ask me why pretty much all my holiday imagines end up being “Billy Hargrove” imagines. Because I don’t know why it ends up that way. I think it’s because the character just ends up working perfectly for my idea of the story.

P.S - Easter is a religious holiday so if that’s a warning them there you go. Warned, but I only really mention that they go to church not any views or etc…

 Also to those who celebrate it Happy Easter!

Masterlist

Stranger Things Masterlist

Holiday Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

(gif does not portray what goes on in the story on this one its just different I hate reusing gifs)

“I’m so glad you came.” Y/n smiled at Billy as she opened the front door to let him in.

“I wanted to see how you do Easter. I’m sure it’s a hell of a lot different than how it’s been done in my family.” BIlly shrugged putting his hands in his pockets as he entered her home.

“Well, my little sister isn’t up yet. So no eggs have been hunted, and no basket’s touched.” Y/n told him excitedly, closing the door behind him, pulling him into the living room. “Mom made you a basket too.”

Billy looked at her in shock. “She didn't have to do that.”

“She wanted to.” Y/n smiled reassuring him that it was okay, Y/n reached out for his hand and squeezed. And it did.

^     ^     ^

“So how’s Easter so far?” Y/n asked, nudging him with her arm as they sat next to each other on the couch.

“I’m shockingly enjoying it.” Billy smiled at her. He was enjoying it, more than he thought he would. Watching Y/n help her little sister hunt for egg’s and they even did egg’s filled with treats for the dog’s. Her mom was even nice enough to put together a basket for him like Y/n said. Filled with different chocolates and some other stuff.

“I’m glad.” Y/n nodded with a smile also on her face.

“Billy, hunny. We’re going to church in an hour for Easter service. You can stay here if you want. Catch up on some sleep I’m sure.” Y/n’s mom offered not wanting to force the young man to join them.

“Actually…” Billy stopped Y/n from getting up from the couch and her mom from leaving he says with hopeful eyes. He actually wanted to go, he hadn’t been since his mom was around. Hence the necklace. “I’d like to join you all. If that’s ok.”

Y/n turned to look at him, trying not to show her shock. “Of course it is baby.”

“Great. We leave soon.” Y/m/n sent a smile the boys way before going to finish getting ready and help her younger child and their cousins as well.

“Are you ok?” Y/n asked once they headed up to her room for some privacy.

“Yeah. Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Billy nodded, not sure why it seemed to be a big deal.

Y/n shook her head side to side not wanting him to think she didn’t want him to come. “Just checking. I mean, have you ever been to church before?”

Billy thought for a moment but he trusted Y/n. So maybe he should share a little more of himself with her. She knew more than most people anyway.

“Back with my mom. When I was younger. I remember what I learned there. It’s always stuck with me.” Billy told her thinking back on his childhood, the few good memories he has.

“Does that have to do with the pendant?” Y/n asked curious since he was in a sharing mood. Moving across the room to stand in front of him as he currently sits on her bed.

“Yeah. It was my mom’s, she gave it to me. It always reminds me of her, and that one day I might see her again… Thank you. For inviting me to celebrate Easter with you and your family.” Billy explained, resting his hands on her hips as she played with the pendant around his neck.

“Billy, you’re part of my family. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Y/n smiled happily running her hands over his shoulders.

“I’ll always enjoy every day of any life as long as you're in it.” He stated pulling her to fall on top of him laying back on her bed, and the two started to passionately make out. After all, they had some time before church.

Taglist: @gruffle1 @padawancat97 @starkleila

[rainforestakiie]

Adamsapple Month Harvest

Pumpkins~

@adamsappleweek

whoa! i got it finished it in time! i wanted to write more and i might come back to this idea later! but for now, enjoy a creepy pumpkin twist! hope you all like it!

For as long as Adam could recall, he had dwelled in the shadowy embrace of Hallow-Eve, a town steeped in autumn's eerie charm. He had never ventured beyond its mist-shrouded borders; his family’s roots run deep in the soil of this peculiar place.

Even during their rare escapades, they merely retreated to the heart of the town, seeking solace at Miss Sera's Inn, where the air was thick with the whispers of the past. Hallow-Eve revelled in the spirit of Halloween year-round, its streets adorned with gnarled pumpkins and sinister decorations, dismissing the likes of Christmas or Easter. Instead, they celebrated with a chilling twist—exchanging sweets nestled in coffins for Easter and gathering around a 'dead tree' come winter, its branches draped with ghostly ornaments.

Adam had only ever known life on the town's enchanting pumpkin patch, a sprawling expanse of vibrant orange nestled among shadows, where townsfolk flocked daily in search of the most haunting harvests. While he supposed there was never a mundane moment amid the revelry, a weariness clung to him like a thick fog, suffocating his spirit.

He longed for the warmth of a traditional Christmas, the intoxicating aroma of a festive feast wafting through the air, instead of the relentless onslaught of skeletal decorations and pumpkin pies. Halloween’s nightly escapades, filled with children donning ghastly costumes, left him yearning for the innocent delights of chocolate eggs and lavish dinners that never seemed to grace their table.

It was as if Hallow-Eve existed in an eternal autumn, with summer and winter shunning its gloomy charm. The trees stood in perpetual decay, their leaves a tapestry of gold and crimson, forever caught in the throes of a hauntingly beautiful fall, the air crisp and unyielding.

Leaning against a towering stack of pumpkins, Adam's piercing green eyes surveyed the patch, glistening under the pale light of a waning moon. In a matter of hours, families would arrive, their excitement palpable as they sought the most spine-chilling pumpkins to carve. His mother, with her uncanny knack for the macabre, often hosted spirited carving mornings, teaching eager youngsters the art of transforming innocent gourds into grotesque visages. Renowned for her chilling creations, she wielded her carving knife with a flair that sent shivers down spines, bringing the town's Halloween spirit to life in the most haunting of ways.

A black crow suddenly soared overhead, its ominous shadow flitting across the ground before it landed directly in front of Adam. With a haunting croak, the bird flapped its sleek, obsidian wings, bobbing its pointed head as if sizing him up. Adam frowned, a wry smirk creeping onto his lips as he regarded the feathered omen. “I don’t suppose you’re here to warn me of misfortune?” he teased dryly. “Black crows are notorious harbingers of bad luck.”

The crow squawked again, flapping its wings and pecking its long beak beneath its wing, as if unconcerned by Adam’s quips. Clicking his tongue in dismissal, Adam turned away, a soft hum escaping his lips. In Hallow-Eve, it was common knowledge that a black crow’s appearance foreshadowed calamity. His grandmother had been the sort to throw salt at the birds whenever they crossed her path, and don’t even get him started on the folklore surrounding black cats.

Returning to his duties, Adam began inspecting the pumpkins, removing the rotting ones or the less desirable specimens. It was hard work, and while he had once relished tending to the vibrant gourds as a child, a suffocating boredom now clouded his enthusiasm. He craved something more, a taste of adventure beyond the confines of his routine.

“Adam!” a melodic voice called, pulling him from his reverie. His mother waved him over, beckoning him toward the towering wooden archway adorned with a macabre display of skulls and bone-like decorations.

“Can you come here for a moment?”

With a sigh, Adam straightened up, tugging off his gloves and tossing a small pebble aside. He approached the archway, the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves lingering in the cool air. As he emerged from the wall of pumpkins, he noticed three figures standing with his mother. One appeared noticeably shorter than the other two, and he squinted, trying to discern the peculiar scene.

“Adam, come meet our new neighbours!” His mother beamed, excitement dancing in her eyes. “They’ve just moved in.”

Just moved in?

Adam’s eyebrows shot up at the revelation. He’d never heard of anyone moving to or from Hallow-Eve; it was a town steeped in tradition, and this was utterly new.

“Hi,” he mumbled, shifting to stand beside his mother.

He blinked awkwardly, taking in the sight before him. The shorter figure seemed older than the two taller females. The blonde girl, with her cascading golden curls and flawless porcelain skin, could easily be mistaken for royalty—save for the unsettlingly vibrant red of her lips and the strange way her cheeks seemed to glow. For a fleeting moment, he could have sworn they both had red circles on their cheeks and no noses, but when he blinked, they were just… normal.

Weird.

The other girl was a stark contrast, with her long, thick braids of purple and grey that cascaded down her shoulders. She was slightly shorter than the blonde, sporting a hooked nose and soft, grey eyes that held secrets. Her black lips curled into an expression that straddled the line between a smile and a frown, leaving Adam uncertain of her feelings.

“Hello!” the shorter man exclaimed cheerfully, thrusting a gloved hand toward Adam. “Nice to meet you! I’ve just moved in with my daughters!”

Adam hesitated, eyeing the man’s gloves, which appeared oddly oversized, hinting at something more claw-like beneath the soft fabric. When his mother nudged him with her elbow, he sighed and reluctantly extended his hand. He jolted in surprise as the man’s grip tightened around his, nearly yanking him off his feet.

“My name is Lucifer!” the man declared, his eyes twinkling with mischief as a soft blush painted his cheeks. “This is my daughter, Charlie!”

The blonde girl beamed widely, her eyes sparkling with an unsettling charm that sent shivers racing down Adam’s spine. Dazed from the force of Lucifer’s handshake, he could only nod.

Charlie chirped, bouncing on her feet with an energy that felt almost infectious, “It’s nice to meet you!”

“And this is Vaggie, my daughter’s girlfriend, but I’ve taken her under my wing as my daughter as well!” Lucifer added, gesturing proudly to the purple-haired girl beside him. He flashed a bright grin at her, and Vaggie returned it with a delighted smile that still felt shrouded in mystery.

Adam slowly nodded, bewildered. He pulled his hand to his chest, stuttering slightly, “Wait, did you say Lucifer? Like, the devil?”

The look on Lucifer’s face sent a chill down Adam’s spine, his cherry-red lips curling back to reveal a row of sharp, gleaming teeth. His blue eyes sparkled with an unsettling allure, his long lashes fluttering as he leaned closer.

“Yes,” he hissed, his forked tongue slipping between his lips in a way that made Adam’s heart race. “Exactly~”

“But don’t worry, compared to what it looks like, he doesn’t bite,” Charlie joked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Lucifer gasped dramatically, turning to his daughter with mock horror. “Don’t say that, Charlie! I like biting!”

The two burst into laughter, and even Adam’s mother joined in, her voice light and melodic. Vaggie, however, still smiled but facepalmed with a groan, leaving Adam feeling like an outsider in a bizarre joke he didn’t quite understand. He took a step back, a strained smile plastered on his face as the odd energy radiating from the new family felt too peculiar to bear.

Lucifer’s gaze bore into him, as if he were contemplating a delicious meal. As if reading Adam's thoughts, Charlie flashed a wide grin that revealed too many sharp teeth, her eyes gleaming like a predatory cat.

“Um, right…” Adam laughed awkwardly, glancing at his mother in disbelief.

His eyes screamed, ‘Are you seeing this bullshit?’ but his mother seemed blissfully oblivious to the spectacle unfolding before her.

“Er, I... I think I’ll go... you know, get back to work…” Adam stammered, desperate to escape from this sharp-toothed stranger who was eyeing him as though he were a delectable morsel. “Because, you know, these pumpkins won’t prepare themselves for the kids.”

His mother shot him a look that was both perplexing and disconcerting, one he couldn’t quite decipher and truly didn’t want to. He took another awkward step back, raising a hand in a half-hearted wave toward his bizarre new neighbours, preparing to make his escape.

“Oh! Please wait!” Charlie exclaimed, her delicate hand darting forward to grasp Adam's arm. Damn, she had her father’s strength, practically yanking him off his feet. “We’re actually here to pick up a couple of pumpkins; you can help us choose some, right?”

Adam’s green eyes widened in disbelief, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach. That was the last thing he wanted. He had no intention of spending time with them, not at all!

“I have to be honest; we don’t know a thing about pumpkins,” Lucifer chimed in cheerfully, perhaps a bit too cheerfully, his grin stretching wide enough to reveal his unnerving teeth. “We’ve got rocks for brains~”

Adam’s mouth opened in protest, the words of refusal hanging on his lips. He had too much work to do and didn’t want to deal with them. But as he caught sight of his mother’s face, which brightened with an unexpected glimmer of relief, his resolve began to waver.

“Of course! Adam would be thrilled to help you all out, wouldn’t you, Adam?” she said, her voice a strange mix of encouragement and something else he couldn’t quite identify.

Faced with that knowing look, Adam felt his stubbornness melt away. His cheeks flushed crimson as he noticed all three of his new neighbours’ eyes fixed intently on him. With a deep, resigned sigh, he nodded, gesturing for them to follow.

“Um, sure, yes, just… follow me,” Adam mumbled quietly, his heart racing as he led the way into the patch, feeling the weight of their curious gazes on his back.

His skin prickled with unease, every hair on his body standing on end as he led the trio down the winding pumpkin patch trail. A palpable sense of danger loomed in the air, as if something predatory lurked just beyond his peripheral vision, ready to pounce. Fear coiled tightly in his throat, making it hard to swallow.

Adam felt like a timid mouse, surrounded by three hungry cats—each one more menacing than the last. The weight of their gazes felt like a tangible force, pressing down on him, and he was filled with an overwhelming urge to bolt, to flee from the chilling atmosphere that seemed to thrum with unspoken threats. He had never experienced such a sensation before, the instinctive drive to escape prickling at his every nerve, urging him to run from the impending danger.

As Adam guided them into the sprawling rows of pumpkins, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the ground beneath his feet was somehow shifting with each step, as if the earth itself were alive and aware. Charlie’s reaction was immediate and infectious. She gasped, her eyes widening like bright, gleaming orbs of wonder, and she squealed with pure delight that echoed through the crisp autumn air. Her smile was so radiant, so sweetly innocent, that for a fleeting moment, Adam found himself questioning whether he had judged them too harshly at first.

“Look at all the pumpkins!” Charlie exclaimed, her voice a melodious chime as she clasped Vaggie’s hand, practically bouncing on her toes. “They’re stunning! Absolutely perfect!”

Vaggie chuckled, a warm, rich sound that wrapped around Adam like a comforting shawl.

“Calm down, babe, or you’ll lose your hair,” she teased, rolling her eyes affectionately.

Charlie pouted for a second before pressing a soft kiss on Vaggie's cheek, her exuberance bubbling over as she practically dragged her deeper into the patch, fully intent on selecting the finest pumpkins. Adam couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Vaggie, watching her struggle to keep up with Charlie's electrifying energy. Yet there was a glow on Vaggie’s face, a happiness that seemed to radiate like the golden autumn sun, making Adam second guess his first impression of her.

But as they ventured further into the patch, leaving Adam momentarily isolated, he suddenly realized he was not alone. The air around him felt charged, and he stiffened under the weight of Lucifer's gaze, intense and unwavering. Adam turned his head to meet those striking blue eyes, deep and captivating like twin oceans swirling with secrets. An involuntary shiver danced along his spine as Lucifer broke into a grin, one that sent a fluttering thrill through Adam’s chest.

“Um,” Adam stuttered, sheepishly smiling back, unsure of how to bridge the strange silence enveloping them.

Desperate to dispel the eerie tension, he glanced around, his eyes landing on another black crow that had landed behind Lucifer, its glossy feathers glinting ominously in the fading light. The crow flapped its wings, adding an unsettling rhythm to the moment.

Unable to endure the silence any longer, Adam blurted out, “So, where did you live before moving to Hallow-Eve Town?”

Lucifer rocked on his heels, a low hum escaping his lips as he considered the question.

“Somewhere far away,” he mused, his voice smooth and melodious. “You’ve never been there before. It’s not like Hallow-Eve.”

Intrigued, Adam pressed, “What do you mean?”

With a fondness that surprised Adam, Lucifer’s gaze drifted across the autumnal landscape, lingering on the fiery hues of leaves swirling in the crisp breeze. “The place I came from was very hot and humid. It’s different from Hallow-Eve Town,” he replied, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I like it very much.”

A chill skittered down Adam's spine at Lucifer’s words, the way he spoke made the hairs on the back of Adam’s neck stand on end. “I can’t say I agree with you,” he admitted awkwardly, forcing himself to maintain eye contact.

Instantly, Lucifer’s expression sharpened, those azure eyes widening as they locked onto Adam’s. “You don’t like Hallow-Eve Town?” he asked, his tone almost conspiratorial, as if he had uncovered a secret. “Do you want to leave, then?”

The way he asked it felt like a victory, as if he had struck gold in the midst of their strange exchange. Adam felt a heat rise to his cheeks as he sheepishly shrugged, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, I guess I don’t want to stay here… I really want to leave.”

Lucifer’s grin widened, revealing those sharp, gleaming teeth once more, as he leaned in slightly, his voice dripping with intrigue. “Where would you go? Somewhere hot?”

Adam paused, a flutter of uncertainty swirling in his chest. Somewhere hot? He had never truly contemplated a destination, only the fervent desire to escape. He released a soft hum, his thoughts swirling like the autumn leaves dancing around them. The idea of venturing somewhere beyond the pumpkin patch, away from the creeping shadows of Hallow-Eve Town, ignited a flicker of hope within him.

“I— I don’t know,” he finally admitted, glancing away, as if the weight of Lucifer’s gaze would pin him to the earth. “I’ve just… always wanted to go.”

With that, the air thickened with unspoken possibilities, the autumn night closing in around them like a velvet curtain, leaving Adam teetering on the precipice of something both thrilling and terrifying.

Adam hesitated, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips as he shifted on his feet.

“Yeah, maybe somewhere hot,” he mused aloud, letting his imagination wander. “I could see myself enjoying the sun... maybe a place where the warmth seeps into your bones and the nights are still.”

Lucifer’s pleased hum broke through the crisp autumn air, almost like a purr of satisfaction. The sound was unsettling, too intimate, as though Adam had unknowingly revealed something far deeper than a passing thought.

Lucifer's piercing blue eyes never wavered from Adam’s face as he asked, his voice low and curious, “Would you ever come back? To visit your family, I mean.”

The question caught Adam off guard, and he frowned, giving Lucifer a strange look.

“Of course I would,” he replied, confusion lacing his tone. “I love my family. Sure, they can be a bit... much sometimes, but they’re still my family.”

Lucifer’s grin stretched wide, his sharp teeth glinting in the soft light of the fading day.

“I like that,” he said, his voice rich with approval. “A family man. That’s perfect.”

The way Lucifer said "perfect" made Adam’s skin crawl, a strange mixture of flattery and something darker curling around the word. It felt like there was a hidden layer beneath his words, something Adam wasn’t catching. He opened his mouth to ask what Lucifer meant, but before he could, Charlie’s excited voice pierced the air.

“Dad! Come here, you’ve got to see these pumpkins!” she called, her voice like honey, dripping with enthusiasm.

Lucifer’s grin deepened, and without a moment’s hesitation, he turned and strode toward his daughter, leaving Adam standing alone in a swirl of confusion. Adam stared after them, feeling a sense of unease creep into his bones. It was as though a vital piece of the puzzle had slipped through his fingers, something important, something he should have caught but didn’t.

Awkwardly, he trailed after Lucifer, his steps slow and hesitant, his mind still trying to wrap itself around the strange interaction. His eyes flickered toward Vaggie, who was standing just beyond the rows of pumpkins, her purple-and-grey braids swaying slightly in the breeze. As his gaze met hers, he noticed something odd—her eyes held an emotion he hadn’t expected: pity.

Adam’s confusion deepened, his brow furrowing. Why would she look at him like that? Did she know something he didn’t? He wanted to ask, but the weight of her gaze made him feel even more out of place. He tore his eyes away from her, glancing back towards his house at the edge of the pumpkin patch.

His stomach twisted as he spotted his parents standing on the porch, their arms crossed, silhouettes dark against the dimming sky. He was too far away to make out their expressions, but something about their posture made a chill creep down his spine. They were just standing there, watching—watching him, Lucifer, the whole scene. The air around the house seemed to thrum with a strange, unsettling energy.

And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, Adam’s eyes lifted to the roof of the house. His breath caught in his throat.

A dozen black crows had gathered there, their sleek, inky feathers shimmering in the dying light. They stared down at him, silent and still, their dark eyes glinting like polished onyx. It was as if they were waiting for something, their presence an ominous, creeping shadow over the house. Adam’s heart hammered in his chest, a gnawing sense of dread settling in his gut.

“What’s going on?” he whispered to himself, the words barely audible.

The crows didn’t move, their eerie stillness amplifying the strange, heavy atmosphere that had been building all afternoon.

Adam’s mind raced, the strangeness of it all closing in around him. He didn’t know what was happening, but something in his gut told him this day wasn’t like the others. Something was shifting, and he was at the centre of it, though he couldn’t see how—or why.

He swallowed hard, feeling as though the world was watching him, waiting for him to make the next move. And as Lucifer’s voice floated back to him on the breeze, that same low, pleased hum, Adam couldn’t help but feel like he was being pulled deeper into something he didn’t fully understand. Something dangerous, something he might not be able to escape from once it had fully wrapped its tendrils around him.

Adam was ripped from his spiralling thoughts at the sound of his name, the touch of a hand sending a jolt through his body like ice water down his spine. He jerked around, blinking furiously as his gaze landed on Lucifer, standing much too close for comfort, his hand resting lightly on Adam’s arm.

The touch burned, though it was cold, and Adam bit his bottom lip nervously, trying to suppress the strange fluttering that came with it. His eyes darted awkwardly from one face to another, realizing all three of them—Lucifer, Charlie, and Vaggie—were staring at him again.

“Er… yes?” Adam managed, voice a bit too high, sheepish as he shifted under their combined gazes.

Lucifer’s pout was almost cartoonish, lips pursed in a teasing mock of disappointment. “What’s got your attention, Adam?”

His voice was smooth, too smooth, like silk wrapping around his name. Lucifer’s eyes flickered toward Adam’s house, the movement almost imperceptible, but Adam followed the glance instinctively.

He turned just in time to see the murder of black crows on the roof take off all at once, their wings exploding into the air like thunderous shadows, spiralling into the darkening sky. The sight was eerie, unnatural, as if the crows had been waiting for some silent cue. The flurry of feathers and ominous cawing made Adam’s blood run cold.

Lucifer snorted beside him, an amused sound that seemed too casual for the unsettling scene.

“Don’t pay attention to crows, Adam,” Lucifer teased, his grin widening as he tugged at Adam’s arm with surprising strength, pulling him away from the sight. “They flip-flop all the time—never can decide what they want.”

Adam barely had time to process Lucifer’s words before he was being dragged—rather forcefully—toward Charlie and Vaggie, who were still standing in the pumpkin patch. Charlie’s face lit up when they arrived, her smile bright and innocent, though something about it sent a shiver down Adam’s spine. Vaggie, always the quieter one, still had a small smile on her lips, but her gaze was steady, a little too knowing.

“Do you like apples, Adam?” Charlie chirped, bouncing on her heels as she reached out to pick up a small pumpkin, cradling it like a prize.

“No, not really,” he said, unsure why the question had been asked. Adam blinked; his confusion clear on his face.

Lucifer chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through the autumn air, but he said nothing, though his grin deepened, almost feral. Adam’s frown deepened in response, wondering if he was the butt of some joke he didn’t understand.

Vaggie shook her head, still smiling, and nudged Charlie playfully.

“Stop teasing him,” she chided lightly, though her own chuckle betrayed her amusement.

Adam furrowed his brow, glancing between them. “What’s going on? What’s so funny?”

Charlie waved her hand dismissively, still giggling. “Oh, it’s just an inside joke. Don’t worry about it!”

She grinned wider, eyes twinkling with mischief, and before Adam could pry further, she pointed to a large, misshapen pumpkin with a crooked stem. “I want that one.”

Adam blinked, staring at the pumpkin with a perplexed look. “You sure? It’s… kind of ugly.”

Vaggie snorted beside him, nodding her head in agreement. “I’m with Adam on this one, it’s not exactly winning any beauty contests.”

Charlie gasped dramatically, clutching Vaggie’s arm in mock offense.

“How dare you gang up on me with Adam!” she exclaimed, but her laughter broke through, her voice light and airy. She looped her arm through Vaggie’s, giggling as Vaggie leaned in to kiss her cheek teasingly.

Adam couldn’t help but smile at their playful affection, the sweet way they moved together like a pair of dancers caught in their own private rhythm. For a moment, the weight of the eerie atmosphere lifted. There was something undeniably charming about the way they looked at each other, like they were in their own world.

But just as Adam began to relax, that gnawing sense of unease slithered back in. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he became acutely aware of Lucifer’s gaze once more. It was intense, almost predatory, and when Adam met his eyes, he was caught in them—blue and impossibly deep, like staring into the abyss of an ocean.

Lucifer wasn’t smiling anymore. His expression was unreadable, but those eyes… they burned with something. Something that made Adam’s heart race, not with excitement, but with fear.

A cold sweat formed at Adam’s temples, and his throat tightened as he tried to break the spell Lucifer’s gaze had cast. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, and Adam suddenly wished he could disappear into the earth like the pumpkins they were surrounded by. There was a weight in Lucifer’s stare, something that made Adam feel like prey—like he was being sized up, toyed with.

His mouth went dry as he forced out a nervous chuckle, trying to break the tension.

“So, you really like that pumpkin, huh?” he said, addressing Charlie but feeling Lucifer’s presence looming beside him, a shadow that refused to go away.

Lucifer finally grinned again, but this time, it was slower, more deliberate.

“Oh, yes,” he murmured, his voice almost a purr, low and sweet. “There’s something… perfect about it, wouldn’t you agree?”

Adam’s stomach flipped as he glanced at the misshapen pumpkin. It wasn’t just the pumpkin Lucifer was talking about, was it?

~#~

The following weeks were strange—too strange. Adam couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something off, something sinister weaving itself into the fabric of Hallow-Eve Town. The air had turned thick and heavy, almost oppressive, as though the atmosphere itself was conspiring to smother any sense of normalcy. The clouds hung lower now, swollen and dark, blocking out the sun more often than not, casting long, eerie shadows over the town. It wasn’t just the weather either; something darker, more intangible, had crept into the town. The shift was subtle but unmistakable, like the sensation of being watched when you’re certain no one is there.

And then there was the strangest part of all—Adam. Or rather, the way people had begun to treat him. It hurt more than he’d expected, like a knife slowly twisting in his chest. He’d grown up here, known these people his entire life, and yet suddenly, it was as if they no longer saw him. People who used to greet him with smiles and nods, who would chat with him on their porches or wave as they passed by, now acted like he didn’t even exist. It was like they were ghosts, or maybe he was. The town’s children, once eager to run up to him, to beg him to play guitar, now hurried past with vacant eyes, their laughter hollow, distant. No one met his gaze, no one asked him how he was doing, no one cared.

It was painful. Adam felt adrift, as though some invisible force had severed his ties to the town he once called home. He couldn't shake the suffocating feeling of isolation.

One afternoon, desperate for some kind of connection, Adam picked up his pace when he spotted Lute and Emily, the twins who’d been his childhood friends. They were as much a part of his life as the pumpkins in the fall or the first snowfall in winter. Surely they wouldn’t ignore him too, right? His heart lifted for the first time in days, and he called out to them, waving with a hopeful smile.

"Lute! Emily!" His voice sounded too loud, echoing unnaturally in the stillness of the street.

Lute didn’t even acknowledge him. Emily glanced at him for a fleeting second, her eyes unreadable, before turning her back and walking off, Lute following her without a word. Adam came to a halt, his chest tightening, the familiar ache of rejection spreading through him. His hands dropped limply to his sides, the air around him growing colder. He muttered to himself, “What did I do? Why am I losing my friends?”

The sting of tears pricked at his eyes, and he wiped them away roughly with his sleeve, not wanting to cry in the middle of the street. It hurt more than he cared to admit. But just as the loneliness started to suffocate him, a dry, familiar voice broke through the fog.

“It’ll get easier. Eventually, it won’t hurt at all.”

Adam blinked, startled. He hadn’t even noticed Vaggie standing there, her presence as sudden as a shadow slipping into view. She was leaning against a post, her grey bomber coat zipped up to her chin, the silver cross on her chest gleaming faintly in the muted light. Her braids swayed slightly as she pushed herself off the post and walked up to him, hands stuffed in her pockets.

“I didn’t notice you there,” Adam admitted, surprised by her words. He tried to smile, but it faltered.

Vaggie returned the smile, though hers was sharper, more knowing.

“People like us, we’re used to being ignored.” She gestured for them to walk together. “You look like you could use the company.”

Adam gave a small, grateful smile. “At least someone’s still willing to talk to me.”

Vaggie shrugged, her hands still buried deep in her pockets. “Don’t worry about them. It just proves no one here really cared about you in the first place. They can all fuck off.”

The sudden vulgarity from her caught Adam off guard. He hadn’t expected it from her, someone who always seemed so composed.

“You swear?” he asked, half amused, half surprised.

Vaggie raised an eyebrow and grinned slightly. “I do when it’s deserved. And trust me, they deserve it.”

Adam chuckled softly, the sound more sad than amused, and they fell into step together, the autumn streets unusually quiet. The carved pumpkins lining the sidewalks stared back at them with jagged, crooked grins, their hollow eyes flickering with candlelight. Everywhere they walked, the pumpkins watched, their expressions twisted, as if they knew something Adam didn’t.

Vaggie’s voice broke the silence again. “You can talk to me, you know,” she said, her tone softening. “I’ve been through something similar.”

Adam glanced at her curiously. “How similar?”

Vaggie sighed, her breath fogging in the chilly air. “Let’s just say that everyone I thought cared about me—family, friends—they turned on me the moment it suited them. Threw me under the bus to save themselves.”

Adam winced, the pain in her voice hitting too close to home. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything to me,” Vaggie snorted, though there was no bitterness in her tone. Still, Adam couldn’t help but feel guilty.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m just sorry you had to go through that,” he mumbled, looking down at his feet.

Vaggie smiled again, this time a little softer. “You’re a nice person, Adam. Too nice for this place.”

As they walked, the conversation turned lighter. They passed by more pumpkins—hundreds of them—each more grotesque than the last, their grins sharp and menacing.

“I didn’t care for pumpkins at first.” Vaggie confessed, her cheek turning pink. “I didn’t care for a lot of things until Charlie. She made me see the beauty in them.”

Vaggie’s face softened in the dimming autumn light as she spoke, her voice carrying a wistful note that Adam hadn’t heard from her before. "It’s been a long time now, me and Charlie," she said, her gaze distant, almost lost in memory. A faint blush crept over her pale cheeks, and her usual cool demeanour melted away like frost in the morning sun. “She was there when I needed someone the most. When everything felt like it was crumbling, when I didn’t think I had anyone left... she was there. No questions, no judgments. Just open arms.”

Adam smiled softly, teasing just enough to lighten the mood. “You must really love her, huh?”

Vaggie gave a half-shrug, her expression unreadable for a moment.

“I didn’t at first,” she admitted, her tone more vulnerable than Adam had ever heard from her. That caught his attention, and he tilted his head in confusion.

“What do you mean?” he asked, curiosity piqued. He couldn’t imagine anyone not loving Charlie instantly—she was so full of life, like sunlight breaking through clouds.

Vaggie sighed, her breath curling in the cool, thickening air. The pumpkins that lined the streets seemed to flicker with a ghostly light as she spoke, their crooked smiles and jagged teeth casting eerie shadows on the cobblestones.

 "It’s complicated," she said, her voice quiet, almost as if confessing to something she hadn’t shared with anyone in a long time. “For a long time, I resented her. Blamed her for... a lot of things. Things that weren’t even her fault. But I was hurting, and it was easier to be angry at someone than face what was really going on inside me.”

Adam frowned, slowly processing her words. There was an unspoken weight in her voice, a history thick with pain and regrets. He didn’t push for more, sensing that whatever had happened was something deeply personal, something that had shaped her in ways he couldn’t begin to understand.

“But Charlie...” Vaggie continued, her eyes growing distant as she spoke of her past, “Charlie never gave up on me. No matter how cold or distant I was, she stayed. She was kind, patient. She didn’t try to fix me—she just... she was there. She saw something in me when I couldn’t see it in myself.”

Her lips curled into a soft smile, almost bittersweet. “Eventually, I realized my life had become so much better because of her. She chose me, and I’d rather spend my days happy with her than be stuck in my own darkness.”

Adam stared at Vaggie, his heart warming despite the chill creeping through the air. There was something deeply moving about the way she spoke of Charlie, like the two of them were bound by something far stronger than mere affection—a kind of love that had been forged in the fire of hardship, shaped by resilience and trust. He found himself envying that connection, that deep, unwavering loyalty.

But before he could ask her more, a familiar, excited voice cut through the air, breaking the moment like the snap of a brittle twig.

“Adam! Vaggie!”

Charlie’s voice rang out with infectious joy, and when Adam glanced up, he saw her bounding toward them, practically glowing in the fading light. Her smile was radiant, her golden hair bouncing as she hurried toward them, and just behind her, as always, was Lucifer.

And of course, Lucifer was staring at Adam again. His intense, unnervingly blue eyes never seemed to leave him, watching him with a gaze that felt too sharp, too knowing. It was like being caught in the gaze of a predator—silent, patient, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

When was he not watching me? Adam thought with a shiver, his pulse quickening under that piercing stare. He tried to shake off the unease, telling himself it was all in his head, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore the way Lucifer’s presence seemed to suffocate the air around him.

Charlie skipped toward Vaggie, her steps light and playful as autumn leaves crunched beneath her feet. In her hand, she held a small brown bag adorned with pink bows—delicate, almost childish, but in Charlie’s hands, it radiated a sweetness that made the dreary streets of Hallow-Eve Town feel just a little brighter.

"You have to try these apple slices," Charlie said with a breathless excitement, practically bouncing as she reached Vaggie. Her voice sparkled with enthusiasm. "They're so good!"

Vaggie smiled, a rare softness touching her lips as she watched Charlie. Her grey and violet hair swayed gently as she leaned in closer, her dark eyes glimmering with fondness.

“Oh yeah?” she teased, glancing at the bag with curiosity.

Charlie didn’t miss a beat, quickly retrieving an apple slice covered in sugar and cinnamon from the bag. She held it up in front of Vaggie, the sugary coating catching the dim light like a dusting of frost.

“Here,” Charlie said, almost shy, her voice sweetening like honey.

Instead of taking it, Vaggie leaned forward, sinking her teeth into the apple slice right from Charlie’s hand. The crunch echoed faintly in the cool air, and Vaggie’s lips curled into a smirk as she chewed. Charlie gasped, a blush blooming across her cheeks, her eyes wide and bright. There was something almost adorable about how flustered she got, like the simple act of feeding Vaggie had caught her off guard. She blinked, then beamed at Vaggie, the pink in her cheeks deepening.

Adam, standing just a few steps away, couldn’t help but smile, even as a pang of sadness twisted in his chest. Watching the two of them, their love so obvious, made him feel a strange mix of warmth and loneliness.

“It’s really good,” Vaggie said softly, her voice carrying a hint of affection. Charlie’s eyes flickered to Vaggie’s lips, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

“Can I...?” Charlie whispered, her voice trailing off, leaving the question hanging in the cool air between them.

Vaggie didn’t answer with words. Instead, she leaned in, closing the space between them as Charlie’s eyes fluttered shut. Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss, one that seemed to momentarily pause the world around them. Adam quickly turned away, his face flushing with bashful awkwardness, trying to give them their privacy.

Just as he did, though, a warm hand gently cupped his elbow, pulling him out of his own thoughts. The touch was soft yet firm, guiding him up the street. Adam’s heart skipped a beat as his green eyes met the deep, intense blue of Lucifer’s.

There he was again.

Lucifer grinned, his golden hair catching the faint light of the streetlamps, giving him an almost ethereal glow. He held up a small brown bag, identical to the one Charlie had been carrying.

“Don’t worry, Adam,” Lucifer said in a voice that was both playful and unnervingly soft. “I got you something too. Pumpkin slices, your favourite.”

“You... didn’t have to,” he stammered, feeling a strange flutter in his chest. Adam blinked in surprise, his cheeks warming despite the chill in the air.

Lucifer’s eyes sparkled mischievously as he reached into the bag, pulling out a pumpkin slice dusted with cinnamon.

“I know,” Lucifer replied, his voice lowering to a velvety purr. “But I wanted to.”

Before Adam could protest, Lucifer held the slice up to his lips, much like Charlie had done for Vaggie. The air between them thickened with an odd tension, something that felt both sweet and unsettling all at once. Adam hesitated, his heart racing, but then he leaned forward, biting into the pumpkin slice.

As the warm, spiced flavour spread across his tongue, Adam’s gaze dropped to the cobblestones, too flustered to meet Lucifer’s eyes.

He mumbled a quiet “Thanks,” his cheeks burning with embarrassment. When he dared to glance back at Lucifer, he noticed the blonde was still staring at him, a look of almost surprised warmth softening his sharp features.

Lucifer’s blue eyes widened briefly, then his lips curled into a slow, gentle smile that made Adam’s chest tighten in an odd way. Lucifer lifted the rest of the pumpkin slice to his own lips and—without warning—bit into it, finishing what Adam had started.

“Sorry,” Lucifer said, chuckling softly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Adam’s face turned even redder as the realization hit him—Lucifer had just shared an indirect kiss. He swallowed hard, his heart beating too fast, his mind whirling.

“It’s... it’s fine,” he mumbled, desperately trying to ignore the way his gaze kept flicking to Lucifer’s cherry-red lips.

Lucifer watched him for another heartbeat, his gaze intense, searching, before finally looking away, seemingly satisfied with Adam’s response. He turned to glance at Charlie and Vaggie, who were still wrapped in each other’s arms up the street.

“What were you two doing before this?” Adam asked shyly, trying to break the tension, his voice a little unsteady.

“We were just out doing some grocery shopping,” Charlie beamed at him, still holding Vaggie close.

Vaggie leaned her head against Charlie’s shoulder, her usual stern demeanour softening in the glow of Charlie’s affection. “Do you need a hand in taking the bags home?”

“Don’t worry about it Vaggie!” Lucifer chimed. “They’re already back at the house!”

 “We were about to head home now.” Charlie sang before gasping, her eyes widening gleefully. “You should come with us!”

“Yeah, you should,” Vaggie agreed, though her voice was quieter, more casual.

“Wait, your groceries are already back at the house?” Adam blinked in surprise. “But... your place is, like, an hour and a half from here. How...?”

Before he could finish, Lucifer squeezed his hand—when had he taken Adam’s hand? —and grinned up at him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lucifer said with a wink. “We’re efficient.”

Adam wasn’t sure what to make of that, but his thoughts were quickly interrupted as Lucifer’s grip tightened slightly.

“Come have dinner with us,” Lucifer said, his voice dropping to a low, persuasive whisper. “I’d love for you to join us.”

“Dad’s the best cook! You must try his pancakes, Adam!” she begged, bouncing excitedly on her heels. Charlie squealed in agreement, her golden eyes sparkling with hope.

Even Vaggie, usually more reserved, smirked and added, “They’re damn good. Best pancakes you’ll ever have.”

Adam hesitated, still feeling the weight of the town’s strange coldness toward him, the way people had started to ignore him. But here, with these people—the odd, charming, and slightly unsettling family—he felt... wanted.

Adam smiled, albeit shyly. “Pancakes are for breakfast.”

“Pancakes are an anytime food, Adam,” he said, his grin wide and infectious. Lucifer snorted in amusement.

Charlie clapped her hands, practically glowing with excitement. “Please say you’ll come!” she begged, her voice full of warmth and sincerity.

Lucifer leaned in just slightly, his voice soft but compelling. “Please.”

Adam’s resistance crumbled. How could he say no?

“Okay,” he said, his smile widening. “I’ll come.”

Charlie cheered, her joy infectious, while Lucifer’s blue eyes sparkled with something more intense, a warmth that lingered just a moment too long. Adam couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just crossed some invisible threshold, and there was no turning back.

The crows cawed ominously overhead as they walked together into the deepening twilight, and the shadows seemed to stretch a little longer behind them.

~#~

As they walked through the dim, winding streets, the dying light of the autumn sun fading behind jagged rooftops, Adam couldn’t help but feel at ease. Talking with Lucifer, despite his unsettling name and the sharp, enigmatic aura he seemed to carry, was unexpectedly comforting. The crisp Halloween air swirled around them, carrying the faint scent of smoke and pumpkin spice, but the chill wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, Adam found the warmth in Lucifer’s presence more soothing than he'd anticipated. He had definitely misjudged him.

Their hour-and-a-half-long walk felt like a strange, enchanted passage, where time stretched in peculiar ways. It was as though the shadows grew deeper, the streets quieter, but within that eerie silence, Lucifer’s soft humming provided an odd sense of peace. Up ahead, Charlie and Vaggie had broken off, giggling to each other like a pair of mischievous ghosts, leaving Adam and Lucifer trailing behind in a more intimate solitude.

Adam glanced at Lucifer, who was kicking a small stone out of his path with casual indifference. His voice, when he spoke, was gentle, almost too quiet for the cool evening air.

“Charlie’s mother didn’t want her.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and dark, like a cloud of mist creeping through the barren trees. Adam winced as they hit him, feeling a sudden surge of regret for even asking. He stammered out an apology, his mind racing as he realized he had wandered too far into sensitive territory.

“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—"

Lucifer’s smile was soft, warm despite the cold sting of his revelation.

“It’s fine, Adam,” he assured him, his blue eyes meeting Adam’s with surprising tenderness. “It’s been a long time... and I’ve never really had anyone to talk to about Lilith.”

Adam blinked, taken aback by Lucifer’s openness, and the mention of that name made his stomach twist. He tried to shake off the unease, but Lucifer seemed to notice. With a playful chuckle, he leaned in slightly, nudging Adam with his shoulder, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“I can tell what you're thinking,” Lucifer mused, grinning slyly.

Adam flushed, his face heating up despite the cold that lingered in the air. “I-I’m not thinking anything!” he insisted, flustered, trying to look anywhere but at Lucifer.

“You’re wondering if everyone I know is named after a demon,” Lucifer said, his voice rich with amusement.

“I wasn’t!” he lied, but the way Lucifer’s sharp grin widened told Adam he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Well,” Lucifer's eyes twinkled with mischief, his voice dipping to a playful purr, “You’ll just have to stick around and find out.”

Adam swallowed hard, feeling his heart skip a beat. His throat tightened, and before he could stop himself, he muttered shyly, “I... might.”

Lucifer didn’t miss a beat. He reached out again, curling his fingers around Adam’s hand, and squeezed gently. The contact sent a jolt through Adam, not unpleasant but unexpected, like a spark of static in the crisp October air.

“I was with Lilith for a short time,” Lucifer began, his tone softer now, almost reflective. “I was lonely... and she was looking for something—or someone—to entertain her. But when she became pregnant, everything changed.”

Adam’s breath hitched, and his gaze flicked toward Charlie, who was still walking ahead, blissfully unaware of the conversation behind her. He couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting Charlie in their life. Her joy was infectious, her kindness so bright that it almost hurt to think about her being unwanted.

“Lilith didn’t want the child,” Lucifer continued, his voice growing heavier. “I had to beg her not to...”

Adam gulped, feeling the weight of what Lucifer was about to say. His heart raced as he thought of Charlie, her sunny demeanour masking what must have been deep hurt.

“Not to abort her,” Lucifer finished, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though the words themselves were a curse.

Adam’s eyes widened in shock, the cold autumn air suddenly feeling a little more biting. He could only imagine the desperation Lucifer must have felt, pleading for the life of his daughter. And then, to his horror, he learned the price.

“Lilith only agreed to carry Charlie to term on one condition,” Lucifer continued, his voice tightening slightly.

“I had to give up half my King—” He stopped, catching himself before he revealed too much, then quickly added, “Half my estate.”

“She sounds like a... gold digger,” Adam muttered, trying to process the cruelty of it all. He blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“That’s exactly what she was,” he replied with a sharp edge in his voice. Lucifer snorted, a dark, bitter chuckle slipping through his lips. “She got what she wanted, and once Charlie was born, she slammed the door. Never looked back.”

Even though Lucifer spoke with a casual tone, there was something broken in his words. Adam could feel the weight of those memories pressing down on him. And then, the final blow—Lucifer spoke of how Charlie, years later, had gone searching for her mother, yearning for a connection that Lilith would never give.

“When Charlie finally went looking for her... Lilith didn’t want to know her. Didn’t even want to look at her.” Lucifer sighed, a deep, weary sound. “Charlie was heartbroken. But Vaggie helped, more than I could ever thank her for.”

Adam exhaled slowly, the knot in his chest loosening slightly. Relief washed over him knowing that Charlie had Vaggie by her side during that painful time. He couldn’t bear the thought of Charlie—bright, joyful Charlie—being so hurt.

Without thinking, Adam squeezed Lucifer’s hand, offering him silent comfort.

“Charlie’s lucky to have you,” Adam said softly. “You’re... a wonderful father.”

Lucifer stopped walking for a moment, blinking in surprise. His usual mischievous grin faded, replaced by something far more genuine—something vulnerable. He looked at Adam, a blush creeping up his cheeks, as though the compliment had caught him off guard.

“I...” Lucifer started, his voice almost shy, a rare crack in his confident exterior. His lips curled into a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Adam.”

As they continued walking together, the shadows seemed to close in around them, the eerie glow of jack-o’-lanterns flickering from porches and windows, casting long, twisted silhouettes that danced along the ground. Despite the creeping darkness, there was something warm between them—something real and tender beneath the surface.

And for the first time in a while, Adam felt... not so alone.

Lucifer’s fingers remained firmly intertwined with Adam’s all the way to his house, and no matter how much Adam tried to rationalize it, he couldn’t ignore the fluttering warmth in his chest. It was absurd. Maybe Lucifer was just naturally touchy-feely, and Adam was overthinking it. The man was clearly lonely. After all, Adam had learned that Lucifer’s past was a tangled mess of betrayal and heartbreak. No family to speak of beyond his daughter, and, apparently, no friends. So perhaps this was just… friendly.

But then, why did his heart keep racing every time Lucifer smiled at him?

By the time they turned the corner and reached their destination, Adam’s train of thought came screeching to a halt. His breath caught in his throat as he gazed up at the house—a towering, three-story Victorian marvel painted a rich, velvety red. It was framed by a glossy black roof, the eaves lined with elegant filigree and ivy that curled like skeletal fingers around the trim. Massive, arched windows with intricate latticework peeked out like watchful eyes from every floor, glowing faintly in the dusky light.

But it was the front yard that stole his breath completely.

Dozens of jack-o’-lanterns grinned wickedly up at him, filling the garden in rows and clusters, each one meticulously carved with its own unique expression. Some were twisted and monstrous, with gaping maws and crooked, wicked smiles; others were hauntingly beautiful, delicate patterns of swirling vines and spiderwebs etched into their skins. The flickering candlelight inside them seemed to dance and sway, casting eerie, shifting shadows across the yard and up the house’s red facade, making the entire place look as if it were caught in a ghostly, enchanting dream.

Adam could only gape, utterly stunned. He’d carved pumpkins every year with his mom, and she was the best pumpkin carver he knew. But this—this was something otherworldly.

“You… you live here?” Adam finally managed to choke out, his voice filled with awe.

Lucifer’s grin was smug, sharp as the crescent moon rising behind them. “Impressed, are you?”

Adam nodded; his eyes wide. “Of course I am! This is—this is amazing!”

Charlie, who had skipped ahead, spun around to face him, her blonde curls bouncing. She beamed at Adam; her smile as bright as the jack-o’-lanterns surrounding them.

“We love trying new things! We’re so happy you like them!” she chirped, practically glowing with excitement.

Adam blinked, shaking his head in disbelief. “Wait—you’re saying… you’ve never carved pumpkins before this?”

Charlie and Vaggie exchanged a knowing glance, sharing a secret smile.

“Yeah,” Vaggie replied with a nonchalant shrug, brushing a stray lock of silvery hair behind her ear. “This is the first time we’ve ever really touched a pumpkin. We only started after moving to Hallow-Eve Town.”

“You’re amazing,” Adam’s jaw dropped, the words slipping out before he could think.

Lucifer squeezed his hand, and Adam jolted, looking over at him. The blonde’s eyes glinted with a dark, playful light, and his grin widened.

“Oh, we have many skills, Adam,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, velvety purr. He leaned in slightly, his gaze locking onto Adam’s, teasing and intimate. “I’m sure you’ll come to learn them all—if you’re brave enough, that is.”

Adam felt his face flush hot. The sudden tension between them crackled like the air before a thunderstorm, sending shivers down his spine. Was he reading too much into this? Or was Lucifer actually…?

Lucifer just smirked, guiding him through the wrought-iron gates and up the cobblestone path. The gate creaked shut behind them with a soft, ominous groan. As they stepped onto the wide, shadowed porch, Adam’s attention was drawn to two dark figures sitting in front of the grand, lacquered doors.

Two black cats, their eyes gleaming like twin emeralds in the gloom, were perched on the stoop, staring up at them. Their sleek fur blended seamlessly into the creeping shadows, but the flick of their tails and the faint glow of their watchful eyes betrayed them.

“Black cats?” Adam murmured, surprised. Black cats were bad omens, a symbol of curses and ill fortune—especially on Halloween night.

But Charlie and Vaggie scooped the cats up without hesitation, cuddling them to their chests.

“This is Razzle and Dazzle!” Charlie introduced them proudly, cooing to the cats as they purred in her arms. “Aren’t they sweet?”

Adam couldn’t help but smile a little. “Razzle and Dazzle? Those are… unusual names for cats.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Charlie named them when she was little,” he explained, shaking his head as if recalling some fond, exasperating memory. “She insisted they needed ‘sparkly’ names.”

“That makes sense,” Adam said softly, watching as the two girls disappeared into the house, the cats nuzzling into their arms. “They’re cute.”

Charlie glanced over her shoulder, grinning. “We’re going to finish up some homework before dinner!” she called, her voice echoing through the foyer.

“Okay! I’ll call you when dinners ready!” Lucifer called after her.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Vaggie paused at the base of the staircase, turning back to Adam and offering him a small, genuine smile. “We’ve been looking forward to it.”

Adam blinked, caught off guard. “Oh—um, thanks. I’m happy to be here, too.”

Charlie’s grin widened, and she gave him a quick wave before the two disappeared up the winding staircase, Razzle and Dazzle perched in their arms like living shadows.

Lucifer’s hand slipped from Adam’s, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Come,” he murmured, his voice soft but insistent. “Let me show you around.”

Adam nodded dumbly, following Lucifer deeper into the house. The grand corridor stretched before them, lined with high, arched doorways and rich, dark wood panelling. And on the walls… Adam’s breath caught.

Paintings. Dozens of them. But not the eerie portraits of long-dead ancestors or the grim landscapes he would have expected. These were… different. Angels, bathed in ethereal light, their wings spread wide and luminous. Scenes of heaven, of divine glory and celestial battles. The artistry was breathtaking, almost blinding in its beauty, yet there was something unsettling beneath the perfection. The eyes of the angels seemed too sharp, too knowing. Their smiles were serene, yet their gazes held a strange, predatory hunger.

“You—” Adam swallowed hard, glancing at Lucifer, who was watching him with a dark, secret smile. “I… didn’t think you were into religion.”

Lucifer’s grin turned wicked, his eyes flashing with something wild and dangerous.

“Oh, Adam,” he purred, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “I’m not.”

“But sometimes,” he whispered, his lips curving into a sharp, predatory smile. He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving Adam’s, “I like to pretend the stories are true.”

A shiver ran down Adam’s spine, a mix of fear and something darker, something thrilling. And as Lucifer’s blue eyes bore into his, Adam couldn’t help but wonder what other stories the man liked to pretend were real.

Lucifer led Adam into the kitchen, and the moment Adam stepped inside, his breath caught in his throat. The room was enormous, gleaming under the soft glow of pendant lights that hung like eerie moons over the countertops. Every surface sparkled, polished to a mirror-like finish. The stainless-steel appliances reflected the light in cold, sharp glints, giving the whole space an almost sterile perfection. It was ten times the size of Adam’s own kitchen back home—no, more. It was the kind of kitchen you'd expect in a mansion, a place fit for a king. Adam couldn’t help but wonder just how rich Lucifer really was.

Noticing the awe-struck look on Adam’s face, Lucifer smiled smugly and stepped closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. His fingers trailed up Adam’s arm in a slow, deliberate motion, the lightest touch that sent a shiver of sensation rippling across Adam’s skin. When Lucifer’s hand reached Adam’s chest, his fingers began to toy with the buttons of Adam’s coat. Adam gasped softly, startled by the intimacy of the gesture.

Lucifer's eyes twinkled with feigned innocence as he tilted his head, his voice a teasing whisper. "You don’t have to wear your coat indoors, Adam. Why don’t you take it off?"

Adam flushed, his face turning a shade of pink that matched the warmth now flooding the kitchen. He glanced down at himself, realizing the heat had seeped into his bones the moment they’d entered the house. He nodded shyly, fingers fumbling for the buttons of his coat, but before he could begin to unbutton it, Lucifer took his hands.

“Let me,” Lucifer whispered, his voice low, almost a purr.

Adam’s heart leaped into his throat, his mouth opening to respond, but nothing came out. He stood frozen, rooted to the spot, as Lucifer slowly undid each button of his coat, the sound of fabric brushing against fingers the only thing breaking the silence. With an almost reverent touch, Lucifer tugged the coat from Adam’s shoulders, the fabric sliding down his arms like a heavy, inevitable weight being lifted.

Lucifer hummed softly, his eyes sweeping across Adam’s form in a way that made Adam feel exposed, vulnerable. His fingers grazed the oversized shirt Adam wore beneath the coat, tugging at the hem with a playful flick.

“There,” Lucifer murmured approvingly. “Isn’t that better?”

Adam, flustered, could only nod, folding his arms awkwardly as he stood there, unsure what to do. Lucifer took the coat from him, moving with graceful ease to hang it up in a nearby cupboard. Adam watched him, his gaze following the sleek lines of Lucifer’s form until the man shrugged off his own coat, revealing something that made Adam blink in surprise.

Lucifer was wearing a Halloween-themed sweater—bright orange with a little cartoon duck in a witch’s hat plastered on the front. The sight of it, so unexpected and oddly adorable, made Adam quickly avert his gaze, but not before Lucifer caught him staring. A smug smirk curled across Lucifer’s cherry-red lips, his eyes glinting with mischievous amusement.

Adam fidgeted nervously, trying to find something—anything—to distract himself from the intensity of Lucifer’s gaze.

“Why did you choose to move to Hallow-Eve Town?” he asked softly, almost to himself. “Surely it wasn’t because of the pumpkins, right?”

Lucifer, now whistling a light, haunting tune, stepped up to one of the many pristine counters. He reached for an apron—one that, to Adam’s surprise, matched his sweater with more little ducks—and slipped it over his head, tying it neatly at his waist. The apron was frilly, white and red, with a cute little bow that sat snugly at Lucifer’s lower back. Adam blinked, wondering how someone could switch from eerie to adorable so seamlessly.

Rolling up the sleeves of his sweater to reveal pale arms with strange, dark patches that dusted his skin like shadows, Lucifer glanced at Adam. The markings caught Adam’s eye, but he quickly looked away, not wanting to be rude.

"No reason, really," he said in that same playful, lilting tone. Lucifer hummed as he tied the final knot. "We won’t be here for long."

Adam furrowed his brow, the cryptic answer making him uneasy. "Are you… planning to move again soon?"

Lucifer smiled, a slow, wicked curl of his lips. "Something like that. We came here to retrieve something." His voice dropped to a low, almost sinister murmur.

A chill crept down Adam’s spine at the way Lucifer said that—"retrieve something." It sounded ominous, like something out of a dark, forgotten legend. Adam shivered, resisting the urge to ask more, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

Before Adam could dwell on it further, Lucifer snapped his sharp teeth playfully in the air, his blue eyes gleaming with a predatory light.

"Come closer," he teased, his grin widening. "I don’t bite."

“You said you liked to bite.” Adam pointed out.

Lucifer purred. “In the bedroom, I meant~”

Adam swallowed hard but managed to breathe in deeply, steadying himself. He stepped up beside Lucifer, his heart still racing.

"Can I help with anything?" he asked, eager to do something—anything—to distract himself from the tension hanging in the air. He didn’t want to just stand there while Lucifer did all the work.

Lucifer cooed softly in admiration, his hip pressing lightly against Adam’s in a casual, almost intimate gesture.

"That’s very sweet of you, Adam," Lucifer purred. His hand grazed Adam’s side as he handed him a bowl filled with fresh ingredients. "I appreciate the offer."

Adam smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. Despite everything—the cryptic comments, the playful snapping of teeth, and the tension that seemed to swirl like shadows around Lucifer—he was happy to help. He liked being useful. Besides, the kitchen felt warm and welcoming now, despite the eerie undercurrents of the house.

As they began working side by side, the tension in the air seemed to settle into something more comfortable, more familiar. Adam couldn’t help but glance at Lucifer every now and then, catching the faintest smile or the sly glint in those sharp blue eyes. There was something about the man—something both unsettling and irresistibly alluring.

And Adam wasn’t sure if he should be afraid of that or if he liked it.

As the two continued their playful banter, the air between them grew thick with an undeniable tension, charged like the crackle before a storm. Lucifer, ever the tease, slid closer to Adam’s side, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savouring every second of their proximity. Adam felt the subtle heat of Lucifer’s body as he leaned in, the smell of cinnamon and cloves clinging to the air between them—a scent that seemed almost too sweet, too tempting for someone so dangerous.

Lucifer’s fingers curled over Adam’s hand, guiding it towards the cutting board. His grip was firm, yet strangely gentle, his skin cool to the touch but leaving a trail of warmth where their hands connected. Adam's breath hitched as Lucifer pressed closer, his body lightly brushing against Adam’s side. The contact sent an involuntary shiver racing down Adam’s spine, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson. The heat crept all the way up to his ears as he felt Lucifer’s chest pressing into his back, close enough that every breath Lucifer took seemed to sync with his own.

"Careful now," Lucifer murmured, his voice a low, sultry whisper that sent a ripple of sensation through Adam.

His breath ghosted over Adam’s cheek, cool and soft like a breeze that carried whispers of something darker, something dangerous.

 "Hold the knife like this…" His fingers wrapped around Adam’s hand, tightening just enough to guide the blade as it hovered over the vegetables.

Adam’s heart pounded against his ribcage, the thrum of his pulse quickening under Lucifer’s touch. He swallowed hard, focusing on the feel of the blade rather than the man pressing against him. But it was impossible to ignore the way Lucifer’s breath tickled his skin, how close his lips were to the side of Adam’s neck—so close it felt like a dare, a tantalizing threat lingering just out of reach.

Lucifer’s voice dipped lower, a playful growl behind his words. "If you’re not careful, you might just nip your fingers. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?"

His lips hovered near Adam’s ear, as if sharing a secret. His tone was rich with amusement, the sharpness of it cutting through the air like the very blade Adam was gripping.

Adam blushed even harder, his entire body reacting to Lucifer’s presence, every nerve alight.

"I-I’ll be careful," Adam stammered, his voice unsteadies, betraying the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him.

His hands felt clumsy under Lucifer’s guidance, but with every movement, Lucifer’s touch steadied him, controlling the knife with such ease it felt like second nature.

"Good," Lucifer purred, his lips brushing ever so slightly against Adam’s ear, sending another electric shiver down Adam’s spine. "We wouldn’t want to ruin those pretty hands of yours."

The compliment, whispered so close, made Adam’s breath catch in his throat. He could feel Lucifer’s smile, could sense the way he was enjoying every second of this, pushing the boundaries, seeing how far he could go before Adam would pull away. But Adam didn’t pull away. Instead, he let himself be drawn in, feeling both trapped and comforted by Lucifer’s presence.

For a fleeting moment, everything else fell away—the eerie atmosphere of the house, the distant rustling sounds of the wind against the windows, even the faint creaks of the old floorboards beneath their feet. It was just the two of them in that moment, Lucifer's cool, almost predatory presence coiled around Adam like smoke. It was intoxicating, dangerous—but it was also undeniably thrilling.

Lucifer’s fingers finally released their hold on Adam’s hand, but he didn’t move away. His presence lingered, almost as if he was waiting for something. Adam exhaled shakily, his heart still pounding, trying to steady himself. He focused on the knife in front of him, his fingers shaking slightly as he continued to chop the vegetables, all the while acutely aware of Lucifer’s gaze, of the way those sharp blue eyes traced every movement.

"You’re a fast learner," Lucifer praised, his voice a velvet purr. He moved ever so slightly, his chest brushing Adam’s shoulder as he leaned in again. His breath was back, close to Adam’s ear, closer this time.

"But you know…" Lucifer's voice dropped, becoming an intimate whisper, "I’m even better at other things."

Adam’s blush deepened, and his hand faltered for a moment. He quickly caught himself, hoping Lucifer didn’t notice the sudden hitch in his movements. But of course, Lucifer noticed everything. Adam could feel the man’s smirk without even looking at him. It hung in the air like a well-placed trap, ready to ensnare him.

"Are you trying to make me nervous?" Adam muttered, glancing sideways at Lucifer, trying to muster some semblance of control over his own embarrassment.

Lucifer chuckled softly, the sound a low, dangerous rumble in his chest.

"Maybe." He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "Is it working?"

Adam opened his mouth to reply but found the words tangled on his tongue. He couldn’t deny the effect Lucifer was having on him—the heat, the tension, the way every touch seemed to set his skin alight.

He swallowed thickly, forcing a small laugh. "Maybe a little."

Lucifer grinned, satisfied with the answer, and finally stepped back, giving Adam a little space to breathe. But the absence of his presence was almost worse—it left the air cold, hollow, as if something vital had been pulled away.

"Don’t worry," Lucifer said, his tone light and playful once more. "I’ll let you finish without distraction. For now."

He winked, turning his attention to another counter, where various ingredients were laid out for the meal they were about to prepare.

Adam, now free from Lucifer’s proximity but still feeling the lingering weight of the moment, exhaled a shaky breath. He smiled to himself as he continued chopping, the ghost of Lucifer’s touch still tingling on his skin. This wasn’t just an ordinary evening—it was something far more unsettling, far more electrifying. And Adam wasn’t sure if he wanted it to stop.

Dinner unfolded with a strange mix of warmth and tension that Adam couldn’t quite shake. Charlie and Vaggie bounded down the stairs, clearly eager to eat, their playful energy filling the dimly lit room. The table was set with an array of food that looked and smelled so much better than anything Adam had been used to growing up. His fingers fidgeted with the fork as he tried to summon an appetite, despite the gnawing uncertainty in his chest.

As they all settled around the table, Charlie’s curious gaze fell on Adam, noticing his hesitation to eat. She cocked her head, her big eyes filled with concern.

"Do you have trouble with food, Adam?" she asked softly, her voice full of innocent curiosity.

Vaggie nudged her with a sharp elbow, whispering something about personal boundaries, and Charlie quickly flushed with embarrassment.

"I mean, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to," Charlie quickly added, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink as she ducked her head.

Adam glanced around the table, suddenly feeling like all eyes were on him. Lucifer, who had chosen the seat beside him, was particularly attentive, his piercing blue eyes locking onto Adam with a soft, almost curious expression. Under the weight of those gazes, Adam swallowed nervously, his fingers playing with the cold metal of his fork.

"It’s fine," Adam muttered after a moment, forcing a small smile to ease the tension. "It’s not a big deal or anything. Growing up, there wasn’t a lot of food around. Not because we were poor, but… my parents didn’t like the idea of me eating too much. They didn’t want a fat kid."

Charlie’s frown was immediate, her brow creased in obvious disdain. She shook her head, muttering something too low for Adam to catch, but her expression said everything. Vaggie, ever her grounding presence, gently took Charlie’s hand in hers, squeezing it as if to remind her to stay calm.

Lucifer, on the other hand, gazed at Adam with a kind of quiet, knowing sympathy. His gaze softened, and he reached out, resting a hand lightly on Adam’s shoulder.

"You should never be ashamed to eat," Lucifer said, his voice low and smooth like silk sliding over velvet. His eyes glinted with something sincere as they met Adam’s. "It would make me very happy if you enjoyed this meal. Eat more than just enough to fill yourself—take pleasure in it."

Adam’s face flushed, heat creeping up his neck as Lucifer’s words hung in the air. Before Adam could respond, Lucifer, with a mischievous gleam in his eye, speared a slice of ham with his fork and held it up to Adam’s lips. The action was playful but intimate, far more than Adam had expected.

"Open your mouth, darling," Lucifer cooed, his voice a teasing lilt that made Adam’s heart skip.

Adam recoiled slightly, a flustered smile tugging at his lips. "I’m not a baby," he protested, trying to sound firm, but his voice betrayed him with its softness.

Lucifer’s grin widened, sharp and wolfish. "Then don’t act like one. Open your mouth and eat the tasty ham."

His voice took on an almost sing-song quality, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Or should I make airplane noises? Hmm?"

Charlie and Vaggie exchanged amused glances, their giggles filling the room as Adam’s blush deepened. Feeling like he was in some ridiculous situation he couldn’t escape, Adam dared Lucifer with a soft, "Go ahead, try it."

Lucifer’s grin only grew wider as he accepted the challenge. He leaned in closer, making exaggerated airplane noises, moving the fork toward Adam’s lips in slow, playful circles. The entire moment felt ridiculous, like something straight out of a cheesy movie, but the playful glint in Lucifer’s eyes made it impossible for Adam not to smile.

Finally, with a sigh of defeat and cheeks burning, Adam parted his lips and allowed Lucifer to feed him. The ham was savoury and delicious, but Adam barely registered the taste. His mind was too focused on the sensation of Lucifer being so close, of their playful connection weaving an odd but undeniable bond between them.

Lucifer, ever the tease, didn’t stop there. After Adam had swallowed, Lucifer leaned in and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. Adam froze, startled by the sudden affection. His heart raced in his chest, and his body tingled with the warmth of the unexpected gesture.

"Good boy," Lucifer whispered sweetly, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he hummed, pulling away as if nothing had happened.

 His movements were casual, but Adam could feel the heat radiating off his own skin, his mind still reeling from the subtle intimacy of it all.

As if to add fuel to the fire, Lucifer continued eating, but not before deliberately using the same fork that had just been in Adam’s mouth. There was something devilishly innocent about the way he did it, as though he were unaware of the unspoken implications. Adam’s eyes widened, his mind immediately jumping to the realization that it was an indirect kiss. He swallowed hard, trying to calm the fluttering in his chest, unsure of how to respond to Lucifer’s deliberate antics.

Dinner concluded soon after, Charlie and Vaggie disappearing upstairs to finish their homework, leaving Adam alone with Lucifer in the dimly lit kitchen. Adam felt a slight pang of nervousness but also an odd comfort—Lucifer’s presence, while mischievous and teasing, had grown familiar.

As Adam began to gather the dishes to clean up, Lucifer waved him off with a soft laugh.

"You don’t have to do that," he said, leaning against the counter with a grin. "I invited you here for dinner, not to work."

Adam shook his head, smiling despite the lingering warmth in his cheeks. "It’s the least I can do. You cooked dinner, after all. I want to help."

Lucifer’s eyes softened at Adam’s insistence, and he tilted his head slightly, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You really are sweet," he murmured, his voice low and affectionate. He stepped closer, just enough to brush against Adam’s side, his presence once again invading Adam’s space with an almost magnetic pull.

Adam couldn’t help but smile, his heart fluttering in his chest as he began to rinse the dishes. This house, this moment—it all felt surreal. A little eerie, a little romantic, and something else entirely, something that made his pulse quicken and his mind race with thoughts he wasn’t quite ready to confront.

The air between them thickened with a kind of intensity that left Adam breathless. The kitchen, once filled with playful teasing, now hummed with a palpable tension, something darker and more electric. Adam could feel Lucifer’s gaze on him, a warm weight that made his skin prickle and his face flush. Every glance, every lingering second stretched out, charged with an unspoken emotion that hovered between them.

Lucifer, with his golden hair catching the dim light and his sharp eyes smouldering, stepped closer to Adam, closing the space between them with graceful ease. His movements were slow, deliberate, almost predatory. Adam felt his breath hitch in his throat as Lucifer’s fingers, cool and soft, brushed against his hand. The touch was gentle but insistent, and before Adam could think to resist, Lucifer was tugging him away from the sink, the warm water and dishes forgotten.

"Leave them," Lucifer whispered, his voice low and velvety, curling around Adam like smoke.

Adam opened his mouth to protest, but before the words could form, Lucifer silenced him in the most unexpected way. His lips pressed against Adam’s in a kiss so soft, so fleeting, that it barely registered at first. The world seemed to still in that moment, time itself pausing as Adam’s wide, startled green eyes locked onto Lucifer’s.

Lucifer pulled back slightly, his eyes searching Adam’s face for something, some sign of acceptance or maybe hesitation. His fingers traced a slow, feather-light path up Adam’s arms, leaving a trail of shivers in their wake. Adam, still frozen in shock, felt his heart hammering wildly in his chest, his pulse loud in his ears.

Then, as if finding what he was looking for, Lucifer leaned in again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more deliberate. Their lips moved together, a slow and sensual dance, and Adam found himself instinctively leaning into it. The taste of Lucifer was intoxicating—dark, rich, with a sweetness that caught Adam off guard. His mind spun, and without realizing it, he was kissing back, his lips parting slightly as their tongues began to explore one another.

The sensation of it, the heat, the closeness—it was overwhelming. Adam’s entire body trembled, a mixture of desire and nervousness flooding his senses. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t even imagined it, but now that it was happening, he couldn’t pull away. The feeling of Lucifer’s hands on him, his lips so confident and teasing, left Adam breathless and wanting more.

Lucifer broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against Adam’s lips, his breath warm and full of temptation.

"It’s late," he murmured, his voice low and persuasive, each word sending a shiver down Adam’s spine. "You should stay the night."

Adam’s heart raced; his chest tight with the weight of his pounding pulse. He tried to speak, tried to form some coherent response, but all that came out was a soft, breathless murmur. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, his body betraying him with its eager trembling.

"Please," Lucifer added softly.

His voice laced with something almost vulnerable, as if the devil himself was asking for something more than just a kiss. His hand tightened gently around Adam’s, his thumb brushing across his knuckles in a tender, reassuring motion.

Adam’s resolve crumbled. His lips parted, but the only sound that escaped was a soft exhale, and with a shy nod, he surrendered to the moment. Lucifer’s lips curled into a satisfied smile, one that was as wicked as it was tender, before he leaned in again, claiming Adam’s lips once more with a kiss that promised much more than just a night.

The following morning would be first of many mornings where Adam was served fresh pancakes.

[andy-15-07]

Easter Joy

masterlist ! pairing Drew Starkey x reader

SUMMARY: Rafe and his wife, Y/n with their daughter celebrate Easter.

Outer Banks Masterlist

The warm spring sun bathed the Cameron household in a golden glow as Rafe and Y/n prepared for their Easter celebration. Their daughter, Lily, bounced around the living room, her excitement palpable as she eagerly awaited the festivities to come.

"Mommy, Daddy, when are we gonna hunt for Easter eggs?" Lily asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation as she tugged on Y/n's hand.

"Soon, sweetie," Y/n replied with a smile, ruffling Lily's hair affectionately. "We just need to finish getting everything ready first."

Rafe chuckled as he watched the exchange, his heart swelling with love for his wife and daughter. "Looks like someone's eager to get her hands on some chocolate," he remarked, his voice filled with amusement.

Lily grinned mischievously, her eyes lighting up at the mention of sweets. "You know it, Daddy," she said, flashing him a toothy grin.

As they finished their preparations, Rafe and Y/n ushered Lily outside to begin the Easter egg hunt. The backyard was adorned with colorful decorations, the air filled with the sweet scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers.

"Alright, Lily, are you ready to find some eggs?" Y/n asked, kneeling down to her daughter's level as they surveyed the garden.

Lily nodded enthusiastically, her eyes wide with excitement as she scanned the yard for hidden treasures. "I'm ready, Mommy!" she exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

With a laugh, Rafe and Y/n watched as Lily darted off into the garden, her laughter echoing in the crisp spring air. They followed close behind, their hearts filled with joy as they watched their daughter's excitement.

As Lily searched high and low for Easter eggs, Rafe and Y/n took a moment to soak in the beauty of the day. The sun cast long shadows across the garden, the sound of birdsong filling the air as they basked in the warmth of each other's company.

"This is perfect," Y/n said, her voice soft with emotion as she leaned into Rafe's side. "I couldn't ask for a better way to celebrate Easter."

Rafe nodded in agreement, his heart swelling with love for his wife and daughter. "I couldn't agree more," he replied, pressing a kiss to Y/n's forehead.

As they watched Lily race around the garden, her laughter ringing out like music, Rafe and Y/n felt a sense of gratitude wash over them. In that moment, surrounded by love and laughter, they knew that they were truly blessed.

As the afternoon wore on, Rafe and Y/n gathered with Lily to enjoy a festive Easter brunch. The table was adorned with an array of delicious treats, from fluffy pancakes to savory quiches and, of course, plenty of chocolate eggs.

As they feasted on the delicious spread, Rafe and Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the joy and laughter that filled the room. They shared stories and laughter, their hearts full of gratitude for the love and happiness that surrounded them.

After brunch, Rafe and Y/n led Lily in an Easter egg decorating activity, their hands covered in colorful paint as they laughed and joked with each other. Lily's face lit up with excitement as she carefully decorated each egg, her creativity on full display as she proudly showed off her handiwork.

As the day drew to a close, Rafe and Y/n gathered with Lily to reflect on the true meaning of Easter. They shared stories of faith and hope, their hearts filled with gratitude for the blessings they had received.

As they basked in the warmth of each other's company, Rafe and Y/n knew that they were surrounded by love and joy. And as they watched the sun set on another beautiful Easter day, they felt a sense of peace wash over them, knowing that their bond was unbreakable and their love was everlasting.

[urrockstar-xe]

Steven's first v-day - s.g x gn!reader

posted feb 2nd, 2024 11:38 pm (barely made it!!)

day 2 of counting down to valentines day! I'll also be doing marc and jake versions :D hope u enjoy xo

summary: it's Steven's first valentine's day!! reader has to make it special! oh but so does Steven, of course. Not proofread, possible use of Y/n.

this is my first moonboys fic! although it's steven focused there is mentions of jake and marc also being romantically involved with reader!! if anything i wrote pertaining to DID is offensive or not cool please let me know!!

masterlist

wordcount: 0.9k

For years Steven had essentially been locked up inside Marc’s mind unknowingly, of course he caught blips, little pieces of Marc’s life, and short memories that Marc purposely shoved down to the deepest depths of their brain, yet even now with Steven fronting on his own much more often he still was missing so much. 

Steven had yet to experience any holidays, though knowing Marc wasn’t exactly a fan of any of them, he still wanted to see them for himself, feel them for himself. Even though Marc and Layla hadn’t really celebrated Valentine's Day during their marriage, Steven still felt he was missing out.

Which of course is when you come in, Steven’s first real partner, he didn’t get you all to himself, but despite sharing you with Marc and Jake, Steven knew he was your very best friend, taking out romance completely you had always been close with him. Making him feel special and loved when he needed it most, and now he has the privilege to replace “love” with “my love” when speaking to you. 

Steven just had to make this day special for you. Marc had his day earlier in the month, Jake planned for next weekend but Steven, Steven insisted he get the 14th. He needed the full experience even if it meant fighting with Donna to get off work early on a Wednesday afternoon.

Steven spent all of Tuesday night at the shops, getting chocolate and your favorite snacks, options just in case you didn’t like the snacks or candy you did previously. 

He loaded everything up into a pink basket, half believing it was actually an easter basket. Steven ignored the suspicious feeling about the basket though, dismissing it as unimportant before moving on to buy two of the books on your TBR, ignoring every mirror in the place and snarky remarks from Marc and sarcastic jokes from Jake about Steven outdoing both of them. 

It’s only Valentine’s Day, Steven.

But it was so much more than that.

But he did ditch the easter basket.

What Steven had yet to realize was that you thought so too.

Today was just as special for you as it was for Steven, because of Steven, actually.

Yes, you had loved the sweet night in with just you and Marc, but with Steven and Jake, you had planned for just a little more, it was practically Steven’s first Valentine’s Day, it had to be special, just like your Steven was.

You had hung heart-shaped decorations up on the few lights in Steven’s apartment, a vinyl you had just bought him on the record player playing softly in the background as you threw a few rose petals across the kitchen counter opting that it would be an easier cleanup then anywhere else in Steven’s cluttered (but of course, comfy) apartment. 

Looking around you were pretty stumped on what to add for decor, before deciding to rummage through some of Steven's cabinets in hopes you'd find a vase, if so, you could buy him flowers, you couldn't think of anyone who would love them more. 

“Yes!” you shouted happily as you found a vase hidden behind the bowls, now why would he have them with the bowls? You ignored the questions in your head and seemingly missed the sound of the front door opening and closing due to all of your excitement. 

“Oh my days” that you heard, the sound of Steven’s voice filled with surprise and adoration filled your ears as you turned around, not even attempting to hide your disappointment in not being able to get Steven any flowers but the moment you laid eyes on his wide eyes, and agape mouth all of it melted away, quickly replaced by a smile. 

“Surprise!” You lifted your arms as if to gesture to your surroundings as Steven finally turned to look at you. “Oh, my love, this is” He paused as he looked around again before continuing. “This is incredible.” 

You gasped at the flowers in his hands, rushing over to him and pecking his cheek before taking them from him and quickly rushing back to your vase. Well, Steven’s vase really but finders keepers and all that.

Steven looked back at you, almost in a daze as he followed your movements into the kitchen. “You got off early, I wanted to get you flowers but-” Steven cut you off as you set the pretty bouquet in the glass, “We can share” he abandoned the bag of miscellaneous snacks on petal covered counter and instead used his hands to pull you away from the fresh flowers by your waist. 

“Happy V-day, Stevie” You smiled at him, earning one back in return. “All this for me?” Steven’s voice was quieter now that you were closer, soft eyes gazing at you most lovingly. 

“It’s your first Valentine’s Day, had to make it special for you.” 

Steven responded with a hug this time, shoving his face in the crook of your neck as your hands moved to hold onto his old grandpa sweater. 

“Hey, are there any sour strips in that bag?” You asked, words muffled by his shoulder as he chuckled, leaning back just enough to see that look in your eyes that matched his perfectly. 

“Of course, there is, love.” “Oh, he loves me!” Your excited words earned an actual laugh this time and a nod of agreement. “I grabbed as many of your favorites as I could remember, only the best for my first Valentine,” Steven said, releasing his hold on you to begin emptying the bag of goodies. You didn’t take too long to join his side, quiet ohs and ahs as he set everything in front of you. 

“I was planning on cooking tonight, surprise you with dinner when you got off, but now maybe we could do it together, yeah?” Your soft tone only added to his smile.

“What’s for dinner, my love?”

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

Cloudy Christmastime

damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent

(A/N): Before anyone protests, I headcanon the Wayne family as celebrating both Jewish holidays like Yom Kippur and Hanukkah as well as Christmas and Easter because yes, Bruce is ethnically Jewish (though may have done Christmas as well) but Dick/Jason/Tim/Steph would have likely celebrated Christmas. So they do both.

Anyway, this is a christmas gift for @glorified-red and literally the 5th take on this fic bc they first said Hallmark movie, then damijon hallmark movie, then whump. And then it took me three tries to get something I was close to happy with so I hope you enjoy. This ended up being a mix of domestic fluff and h/c.

warnings: sensory overload

wc: ~2600

~~

“Tell me again why Santa doesn’t bring us gifts if he’s real. Like our dads have met him. And he still doesn’t bring us presents,” Jon lamented from the couch, bundled up in four blankets. 

From your spot on the floor by the tree, you looked up, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Because we’re not kids anymore? And how do you know Santa ever brought us gifts?” 

“Perhaps,” Damian added, passing Jon a cup of hot chocolate. He placed a second cup on the coffee table and lifted one to his lips. “He only brought gifts to people to make a point. I never received any from him as a child but father has gotten many over the years.” 

Jon listed to the side, head landing on Damian’s shoulder. “I think that’s worse.”

For the first time in a while, Jon felt Damian’s huff of laughter more than he heard it. Your small chuckle was similarly inaudible. Jon hated solar flaring. Not only was it a pain to deal with for the day and change—one could argue he got either lucky or really unlucky by solar flaring the morning of Christmas Eve—but it always threw his senses out of whack as they trickled back in. And, with the gray skies of Gotham’s winter, Jon was expecting it to be even weirder than usual. It was worth it though, to him, in order to spend the day itself with his partners. It was enough that the Kent family Christmas Eve was ruined by Lex Luthor. He wasn’t going to let his Christmas day be ruined too. 

“I’m sorry, mi sol,” you offered with a shrug and a smile. Jon met your grin with his own. A full-body shiver wracked his frame. Your gaze turned concerned. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Jon agreed, “Just chilly.” Damian’s arm wrapped further around Jon, pulling their sides flush against each other. Jon maneuvered the blankets away to soak in his warmth. 

“Ameli, we can turn the heat up,” Damian offered. 

“Nope,” Jon argued, nuzzling into Damian’s neck. “This is good.” Damian’s resulting huff of air teased at the hair on the top of Jon’s head. 

“Mi luna?” You asked from the floor. Damian turned to look at you. Jon followed, eyes traveling over the mound of presents arranged under the tree. There was a pile around the back of the tree against the wall for Damian’s family (Jon still needed to give Dick his gift from the Hanukkah celebration a couple weeks ago. The blue dreidel paper was obvious against the sea of brown, red, and green wrapping paper.), and a smaller one for yours. The empty gap left behind after the Kent Christmas was already filled in with a large box Jon was like ninety percent sure was a new easel for Damian. You ordered it, not him, but Jon couldn’t think of anything else on any of your lists that was even close to that size. “Can you hand me that please?” You gestured to a precarious stack on the coffee table. 

Damian acquiesced, passing over a teetering pile of vaguely book-shaped items. Who those were for was anyone’s guess. Jon was grateful Alfred had helped you and him pay for some of the gifts for Damian. Looking at the gift tags, it otherwise would have been horribly uneven. And Damian himself wouldn’t have minded, Jon knew, but you and him would have been upset about it anyway. He deserves the world, your rohi. Damian pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you, still arranging presents under the tree. He showed it quickly to Jon before texting it to him immediately. 

“This look okay?” You asked, peeking out from behind the tree. Jon looked it over. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for exactly, but he also wasn’t exactly the reigning opinion on artistic presentation. 

“It looks fine, hayati” Damian said, eyes still trained on his phone. You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“You didn't even look.” 

Damian turned to look at you. “Because I knew it looked fine, beloved.” His eyes scanned the presents. “And it does.” 

You shook your head at him, exasperated, before conceding and sitting heavily on the couch. Scooching in, you nearly pressed up against Jon’s other side. 

“Come closer,” He whined, untangling a hand from the blankets to grab yours. “You’re warm.” 

Jon could feel the look exchanged over his head. 

“I’m not that warm,” you argued even as you grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table and arranged the blankets so that you could fit underneath. “You’re just cold.” 

Jon shrugged. The hand that wasn’t holding yours reached underneath Damian’s shirt and he swore, grabbing Jon’s wrist to keep its chill away. Another look passed over Jon’s head. He wondered sometimes if the two of you were aware he knew what you were doing and just didn’t care. Probably. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, amorcito?” You asked. Jon shrugged. 

“It’s cold outside and I’m human but otherwise yeah. I have you two,” he added smugly. Damian’s playful shoulder hit came at the same time as your muttered “sap.” Jon grinned. “So because I’m sick—sort of—I get to pick the movie. And we’re watching Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” Despite the protests on both sides, the movie was playing before Damian could even get up to turn the lights off. To the side of the couch, the lights on the Christmas tree bathed the room in a soft white glow. 

~

Jon awoke to a cold bed. On a good day, he’d wake with the sun—or whenever it wormed its way through the bedroom’s black out curtains—or to an international emergency. Okay, not that the emergency was good, just that he was feeling good enough to know it was happening. On a bad day, all bets were off. Jon stuck his hand out of the covers, searching blindly for his phone. After a moment of finding nothing but the wood of the end table, the scratchiness of the sheets was unignorable and he gave up, flinging back the covers to get out of bed. Hanging over the side of the dresser was a dark red sweatshirt. Jon grabbed it and tugged it on, rubbing his arms to get the lingering echo of the sheets off his skin. His off kilter super hearing zeroed in on the crooning of Michael Bublé before zooming back out into the general background noise coming from the kitchen. Jon winced, squaring his shoulders. That was a bad sign. But it was Christmas; he’d be fine. 

A quick squint at his phone told Jon that it was just after noon. No wonder the bed was cold. Jon shivered, then grabbed a pair of your fuzzy socks before opening the bedroom door. 

The smell of cinnamon and chocolate coming from the kitchen was pleasant rather than unbearable. Jon let himself breathe it in as he approached quietly. He didn’t even notice you behind him—though that was often true of an average day—before there were arms around his waist and a head on his shoulder. He let himself lean back into the warmth of you. 

“Merry Christmas, mi amor. How are you feeling?” you inquired. Hot breath ghosted across his neck. Jon shrugged. 

“Fine. Excited for today.” He spun around to face you, eyes taking in your christmas pj pants and sweater with a Robin logo. Over your shoulder, Jon could see flashes of blue, likely Damian’s nightwing sweatshirt. “Merry Christmas,” he added, tucking his nose into the spot just underneath your ear for just a moment. No matter what his super senses were like, he took comfort in the smell of the two of you. A hand weaved through his hair, a kiss pressed to the top of his head. Jon pulled back just enough to give you a peck on the lips before being spun around into a kiss from Damian. 

“Merry Christmas, my heart,” Jon muttered, pressing a second lingering kiss to Damian’s jawline. A steady heartbeat pulsed under his fingers, wrapped around Damian’s wrist. 

“Good morning,” Damian said, wrapping an arm around Jon to keep him close. Jon blindly reached out and a second calloused hand found his. A second warm body curled around him. He missed your heartbeats’ song in his ears, but Damian’s pounding steadily under his ear and yours fluttering underneath his fingertips was good enough for right then. “Are you alright?” Damian continued. “It’s late.” His voice was echoey underneath Jon’s ear and Jon flinched instinctively. The two of you reacted immediately, pulling back. 

“Jon?” you asked, voice laced with concern. 

“Yeah,” he managed. “I’m mostly good. About as expected, you know?” Jon offered up a smile. By the looks on your faces, it didn’t do as much reassurance as he’d hoped. “I’m sorry I slept so late.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Damian argued. “There is no reason to.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Jon sighed. 

“How are you feeling about breakfast, mi sol?” You asked, tangling your fingers with his. 

“Sounds good,” Jon agreed. 

~

“Oh yeah I should definitely send Dick a text to thank him. And also say Merry Christmas,” Jon said, flopping down on the couch after breakfast. With his partners looking happy, Christmas music in the background, and a breakfast of vegan pancakes in his stomach, Jon could almost forget about the buzzing under his skin. 

“Tt,” Damian scoffed. “He would have swapped with me anyway. Gordon and Father are both working tonight so it was pointless for him to have the evening off.”

Jon shrugged. “Still, doesn’t hurt to say thanks.” 

“Say hi from me too,” you yelled over the running kitchen sink. After a moment more, the water shut off and Jon released a silent sigh at the absence of an irritating bit of noise. He was lucky the x-ray vision hadn’t started acting up. Not only was that like the antithesis of Christmas presents (his mom kept presents out of the house or in a lead box until morning for that very reason), but it was also a huge pain and the hardest to hide. Screwy touch and hearing was more than enough. Dishware clanked around in the kitchen as Damian sat beside Jon on the couch. 

“No change?” He asked, reaching for a Nightwing mug of cider on the coffee table. 

Jon shrugged. “Nope, nothing yet.” Damian narrowed his eyes and Jon attempted to start coming up with excuses. At the very least, he could probably get Damian to leave it alone until after gifts. Less so if you noticed too and started teaming up on him. 

“Ready for presents?” You asked, sitting down on the other side of Damian. You raised the untouched Superman mug to your lips, eyes scanning over Jon. 

“Yes!” Jon butt in before you could say anything. “Let’s do it.” 

You and Damian exchanged a look. On the floor below, the elevator dinged, releasing a family with a horde of kids. “Okay,” you conceded, standing to grab the first load of presents.

In the apartment directly underneath, the front door squealed open. A load of presents was slammed down on the floor beside him. Three kids squealed “gramma!” in unison. Jon’s hoodie was all of the sudden suffocating him. 

Jon jumped up and yanked the sweatshirt over his head, pawing the sleeves off before yanking his socks off too. He didn’t care where they ended up. His hands went up to press against his ears. Stumbling over his own feet, Jon meandered backwards until his back slammed into a wall and then slid down, knees up and head with ears still covered in between them. Sounds zoomed in and out. All of the sudden, he could hear Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer playing eight floors down, then A Christmas Carol on someone’s TV across the street. Focus! Jon yelled at himself through all the noise. One steady beat came into focus, then another. 

Until there was a soft item brushing his feet, Jon didn’t realize he had company. A steady beat pulsed in his ears, too loud even for its familiarity. He pulled the blanket close. Something plastic nudged his shoulder and Jon grabbed it instinctively, slamming special-made headphones over his ears. The sounds faded down into something manageable. Jon took a deep breath. And then another. He didn’t need to hear to know that the two of you were there. When he reached out tentatively with his sense of smell, the usual wave of cinnamon-vanilla-brown sugar-clove and somethings just the two of you tempered by pine and peppermint was comforting rather than overwhelming. Jon let it wash over him, clutching the soft weighted blanket to his chest. 

When he cracked his eyes open, two blurs blinked into focus as his partners, leaning against the back of the couch and hands linked. Damian’s head rested on your shoulder, one of your hands tangled in his hair. Jon noticed as soon as Damian saw he was up. He almost slammed his head into your chin as he shot up and Jon huffed a laugh.  

“Ameli?” Damian asked. Your eyes locked onto Jon’s. 

“You guys shouldn’t sit on the floor,” Jon responded. “It’s bad for your backs.”

You offered Jon a hand, ignoring his remark completely. Jon’s chest ached. If you weren’t willing to banter, he’d scared you. “How are you feeling?”   

Jon took the hand and stood, adjusting the headphones so they stayed on his head. He tossed the blanket over his shoulder and reached his other hand out towards Damian before tugging the both of you up and towards the couch. 

“I’m okay,” Jon reassured you, sitting down on the couch. “I promise.” When neither of you moved, he tugged you both down on top of him, interrupting the bat-assessment written all over Damian’s face.  

“Promise like this morning?” Damian argued. Jon winced. 

“Okay, yeah maybe I shouldn’t have—”

“Been a self-sacrificial dumbass as if we don’t a) know you and b) want you to talk to us?” You cut in. Jon could read the hurt underneath the anger clear as day. His fingers brushed over two sets of knuckles, one scarred from years of fighting without protective gear, the other dry from the winter air. 

“I know. I just wanted today to be a good day, you know? We never get uninterrupted holidays.” Jon resisted the urge to pull his hands away from yours and curl into himself. The two burning gazes on him were ones of love and concern, though, not judgment. 

“And for some reason you think accommodating you makes the day worse, why?” Damian asked. Jon didn’t have an answer. 

“We love you, Jon. Eres nuestro pareja. We picked ‘partners’ for a reason, yeah?”  You squeezed his hand in yours. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, head dropping to your shoulder. Silence was heavy in the room for a moment. 

“You choose what we do next,” Damian stated, tugging the blacket from its bundled blob to instead cover you and Jon. 

Jon moved from your shoulder to halfway on top of Damian, tugging you on top of him. “You guys are going to squish me in between you while we watch a movie and then we can do presents?” 

You shot him a wicked smile. Jon shrieked as Damian pulled him bodily half on top of him along the couch, cut off when you landed nearly on top of Jon. 

“Good?” You asked. Jon let himself sink into Damian, arms coming up to wrap around your waist. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Good.”

Damian grabbed the remote. “We’re not watching Elf.”

Jon stuck his tongue out at him.  

[nowritingonthewall]

Let me take your hand

Fandom: Star Wars

Character(s): modern!AU Poe, Shara Bey and Kes Dameron

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Summary: Sometimes all you need to make the pain a little more bearable is someone to take your hand, hold you gently, kiss you softly and tell you that they love you.

Words: 6900

Warnings: Hurt/comfort with a lot of hurt (!) in the beginning, aftermath of losing a parent (please please please don’t read if you fear that you might not be able to bear reading this!), reader celebrates Christmas, kind of spoilery if you haven’t read “Free Fall”

A/N: This was supposed to be a cute little spin-off of another Christmas story that spiralled completely out of control. 2023 was the third Christmas with this story living rent free in my mind and I was really determined to finally write and finish it this time before becoming really sick for two months. Even though it’s nearly Easter I hope that maybe one or two of you might still like it <3

As always, I apologize for not being a native speaker.

Christmas used to be Poe’s favourite time of the year.

There were presents, bright sparkling lights all over the city, the smell of freshly baked cookies, joyful songs on the radio, people being so much kinder than usual, chocolate glazed koyo berries and most importantly: both of his parents would be at home. Because Christmas was sacred.

Sure, presents were nice and everything, but sneaking into his parents’ bedroom before dawn on Christmas Morning, cuddling up to them under their warm blankets, lying safe and snug between them in a huge loving hug sandwich, knowing that for once there was no rush to get up and nothing to worry about because the day belonged to no one but their family?

There was nothing in Poe’s whole world that would ever be able to beat that.

Christmas was his favourite thing in the entire universe.

Even his very first memory was created on Christmas Eve. Shara and Kes would dance together at every possible (and impossible) opportunity they got, but that very first dance in the light of their Christmas tree on Christmas Eve was special.

It was as special to them as the song that had to accompany their dance: 'Let Me Take Your Hand' by Hera and the Rebels.

It was the song that had played on an old record player when they had met in an airplane hangar for the very first time. It had played when they had shared their first kiss, when Kes had proposed to his beloved Shara, when they had their first dance at their wedding, and when Shara had told Kes with happy tears in her eyes that they were going to be parents.

Music like a tender hug wrapping its loving arms around you, caressing your soul and soothing your heart, leaving you feeling like nothing in the world could ever hurt you.

Would you let me take your hand

And hold you gently

And kiss you softly

If I said I loved you

That Christmas Eve, as his parents began to sway in tune with the first few bars of the old forty-five crackling over the loud speakers, little Poe had no idea that he had just become part of a very long and love-filled Dameron Christmas tradition.

He was simply the happiest little boy, cuddled against his Dad’s chest, who held him gently yet safely close to his heart. With his Mom taking his hands in hers and making funny faces at him while singing along to the music, his eyes sparkled even brighter than the lights of the Christmas decorations around him.

As soon as the song was over, he wiggled his tiny feet and clapped his little hands in excitement, squealing giddily, “‘gain pwease!”

And his parents didn’t mind at all. With the record playing over and over again, they took turns kissing each other and placing the softest of kisses on their son’s forehead, cooing how much they loved him.

Poe couldn’t get enough of it.

On his eighth Christmas Eve, as Poe clung to Shara’s leg during their dance, he decided that part of him couldn’t wait to grow up and find his special someone to dance to their song. He vividly imagined how he would look at them the same way as Kes was looking at Shara.

Of course, his parents would still be there and enjoy dancing right next to him. He would do a show of being embarrassed when his Mom would try to ruffle his hair, because for some weird reason, grown-ups were supposed to hate it, even though he wouldn’t actually mind at all. And his Mom and Dad would love you nearly as much as he would and his parents would be so happy for their son to carry on their Christmas tradition.

If only he had known. If only he had known that this would be the very last Christmas with his Mom. Maybe he would have clung to her a little tighter, maybe he wouldn’t have nicked quite so many Christmas cookies, maybe he would have told her how much he loved her just one more time.

But then again, if he had known, it probably wouldn’t have been the most wonderful Christmas ever or the last time that he could remember his Dad looking truly happy before everything changed forever.

Only a year later it was hard to believe that any of those beautiful memories had been real at all.

Despite his insurmountable grief, Kes had tried his best to make this Christmas as magical for his son as it used to be. It was just that he had never quite gotten the hang of how Shara had always managed to make the Christmas tree and their apartment look so beautiful and festive and welcoming. And no matter how many Christmas lights he would string or how many candles he would light, it seemed like all their warmth and brightness had left when Shara did.

It was the night before their first Christmas without his Mom when Poe woke up to the most desperate stifled sobs coming from the living room. Full of worry, he stumbled out of bed and through the flat, the sinking feeling in his tummy growing heavier with each step of his bare feet on the ice cold floor tiles.

When he reached the door to the living room, the picture unfolding in front of him nearly tore is heart apart: The hunched over figure of his Dad lying under the Christmas tree, face hidden behind his hands, crying so violently his whole body was shaking.

Before even being able to form a single coherent thought, Poe had already crouched down on the floor right next to his Dad, trying to pull him into a hug – just like he knew his Mom would have done to comfort him.

His arms didn’t quite reach all the way around the package that his Dad had folded himself into but Poe tried to make up for it by pouring all the softness and warmth and tenderness from his big little heart into his words when he said, “I love you, Daddy! It’s gonna be okay!”

His Dad didn’t react. So Poe tried again, squeezing him even tighter this time but all it drew from Kes was another heart-wrenching sob.

But Poe wasn’t going to give up that easily. After all, just because his Mom wasn’t here with them in person, it didn’t mean that she didn’t celebrate Christmas with them. And if she was looking down at them from her cloud in Heaven among all the most beautiful angels in the universe (because there was no doubt for Poe, that’s exactly where his Mom would be), it would surely break her heart to see her two boys crying on Christmas Eve. And he couldn’t let his Mom down, could he? Not at Christmas.

And there was one thing left to try.

Hurrying over to the record player, he found what he was looking for exactly where his Mom had stored it away neatly last year. Ever so carefully, as if handling the most precious item in the world, he let the record slide out of its sleeve and placed it on the turntable. Slowly and gently, just like his Mom had taught him, he lowered the tone arm before turning back to his Dad.   

With the first few soft sounds floating across the room, Kes finally raised his head, looking up to where his son stood, holding out his hand for his Dad. As he slowly got on his feet, Poe took a step towards him and tried his best to put on a brave smile, his eyes encouraging and full of hope.

Kes looked at his son. And he looked at the record player. Then he walked straight past his son and with a cry of agony that made Poe stumble backwards with a start, Kes tore the record off the turntable and threw it to the ground with enough force to break it into a thousand pieces. Yet they were nothing compared to the millions of pieces that little Poe’s heart shattered into at this very moment.

As his father stormed out of the room, Poe kept staring at the broken remnants of the last happy memory of his family. Trying to understand what on earth had just happened. What had he done wrong?

Maybe it was the shock, maybe it was the confusion, but he didn’t even notice how he began to shiver as the cold crawled up from the floor over his bare feet and under his thin pyjamas. Until he could no longer tell whether the numbness creeping into his heart and soul came from the cold or the growing ache in his chest. He had never felt more lost or lonely in his entire life.

For the briefest of moments, he wondered whether it would be possible to glue the pieces back together again. But as he knelt down and began to pick them up slowly, one by one, that last flicker of hope was extinguished quickly.

As he pondered over what to do, he spotted the stack of Christmas napkins that his Mom had bought last year, after Poe had insisted that the teddy bear pictured on them looked just like his beloved plushie Mr. Beebs. He had spent hours sitting right next to her, learning how to fold them into the most intricate shapes, just like his Mom had done, until he had declared excitedly that his Mom would never have to worry about folding a set of napkins for their guests ever again because now she had Poe to take care of that. Taking one of the napkins from the stack now, he could vividly remember the fondness in her eyes as her smile had outshone his proud little grin.

After spreading the napkin out on the floor, he piled the pieces of the record up onto it, carefully and gently, until even the tiniest of pieces had been accounted for. Looking around the room for something to tie the napkin bundle up with, his gaze fell upon Mr. Beebs sitting on the couch with his tiny bow tie around his neck. It didn’t seem right to take it, but Poe apologized to his teddy and promised that he would only borrow it for a little while.

Having the napkin tied neatly together, he got up off the floor, taking one last look at the Christmas tree. A source of warmth and comfort for as long as he could remember, its lights and decorations almost seemed like they were mocking him now. As his eyes began to wander along its branches, his gaze came to rest on the star at the top of the tree.

“I am sorry, Mommy,” he whispered.  

As Poe held the napkin bundle gently against his heart, the tears began to fall. Unseen and in silence, yet hot and burning.

He was still clutching the little bundle to his chest when he found himself crying quietly in his bed a little later. He held it even tighter when he could hear the soft footsteps of his father approaching.

“Poe?” Kes’ voice was so gentle, it was barely audible to his son.

“Poey, sweetheart… I am sorry! I am… I am so so so sorry!”

Staring at the wall in front of him, Poe couldn’t see how his father’s tears over losing the love of his life had turned into tears over the fear of losing his son. He couldn’t see how his father reached out his hand towards him, only to hesitate at the very last moment, too afraid that he would just make things worse.

He couldn’t see how Kes longed for nothing more than to hug Poe close to his heart and never let him go again, desperate to find a way to comfort his son without subjecting him to his own soul crushing pain.

All he could see, over and over again, was that moment when his father walked right past him to smash their record to pieces.

His father didn’t want to take his hand.

Determined that he didn’t want Kes to see him cry, Poe pulled the covers over his head. And just like he had wrapped the napkin around the broken pieces of the record, Poe could feel something else wrapping itself around his heart. Not nearly as gentle and careful, but way harder and tighter and indefinitely more painful.

His father didn’t want to take his hand.

It was the last time that either of them acknowledged the song. It was the last time that music was played in the Dameron household.

And Poe never danced again.

Sometimes he would dream of it, though. Holding someone in his arms and swaying to the soft rhythm of a melody while waiting for Christmas cookies to bake in the oven or the first coffee of the day to finish brewing. But it never felt quite right. As soon as that longing ache would make itself known, he would shove it back to where it came from. Burying it a little deeper every time. After all, life was not a flipping Disney Christmas movie.

Yet there was a part of him that never stopped trying to find the song again. Even more so during that time of the year. Whether it was at the Christmas markets or at the shops, as soon as the softest sound of music could be heard anywhere, Poe would strain his ears hoping against hope to hear that comforting familiar tune just one more time.

Now and then he would hum the melody to himself, especially in those moments when he missed his Mom even worse than usual.

More than once he found himself sliding into a panic when he seemed to stumble over parts of the melody or he needed a little longer to remember some of the words. Every time that happened, he feared another piece of the memory of his Mom might slip away.

One night, after waking up in cold sweat again, he frantically scribbled down the lyrics onto the next best sheet of paper he could find as if they might be lost forever if he didn’t write them down this instant. After taking a few moments to catch his breath, he carefully folded the sheet and placed it into the little wooden box in his nightstand, which held the napkin bundle and the record sleeve.

Over the years, there were a few people that he tried to confide in but his attempts always ended up with him being made fun of. So he gave up those attempts too, burying his feelings deep under the growing pile of pain and ache and longing. They were obviously too silly to share them with anyone.

Not to you, though.

When Poe and you were about to spend your first Christmas together, it had been several years since he had bothered to put up any proper Christmas decorations at all. So when you asked him excitedly whether you could put them up together, he really did it more for you than for him.

Though he couldn’t deny that your enthusiasm was more than a little contagious. You turned the whole thing into a proper little event with Christmassy snacks and hot cocoa and festive music. After a while he found your joy so infectious that it made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Feelings that he hadn’t associated with Christmas for a long, long time.

He even sent both of you into a fit of giggles and laughter after somehow managing to completely wrap himself in tinsel rather than the Christmas tree.

And then you threw him completely off balance with one seemingly innocent little question: “So what’s your favourite Christmas tradition?”

Before he could tumble off the chair he was standing on, however, his instincts kicked in, making him fall back onto his standard go to answer: Chocolate glazed koyo berries. “My father had this really amazing way of turning them into the most delicious…” he began.

But it just felt wrong. Of course he loved his father’s chocolate koyo berries, he actually used to love them a lot. But there was something else. As he looked into your warm and loving eyes, something long forgotten tried to force its way up from the deepest pits of his heart. And try as he might, it refused to be pushed back down again this time.

Determined to keep it together, he turned away from you, biting his lips until they hurt. He was not going to cry. He was not going to ruin everything again.

“Poe? Hey… sweetie, your hands are shaking…”

Squeezing his eyes shut with enough force to give him a headache, he could hear the confusion in your voice turning into worry.

“Oh Poe, I am sorry, I should have known that this might bring back painful memories, I really shouldn’t have asked, I am so sorry…”

Trying to stifle the wave of sobs demanding to be let out, he shook his head vigorously, still refusing to look at you.

“No no no, you didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just… it’s silly!” he choked up.

You paused for a moment before saying gently, “It doesn’t look like it’s silly to you?”

He didn’t resist when you took his trembling hands in yours and helped him to climb down from the chair. Not letting go, you carefully held them steady in your hands, drawing soothing circles on them with your thumbs, as Poe kept staring at the floor.

“You don’t have to tell me now, if it’s too much,” you tried to reassure him.

“No, I want to, I just…” Grunting in frustration, he broke away and began to rub at his eyes with the palms of his hands with increasing force as if the motion would somehow be able to rub those pesky and unwelcome feelings away.

Carefully taking his hands into yours once more, you slowly led them away from his eyes. As you cupped his face with your hands, tenderly caressing over his temples with your thumbs, he finally looked at you, revealing his sore eyes glistening with tears and all the pain and grief that lay beneath.

It broke your heart.

You hesitated, as you had to fight your own tears welling up inside of you now before asking softly, “Is this about your Mom?”

Poe nodded ever so slightly.

Your voice turned even softer. “Does it have anything to do with the little box you keep in your night stand?”

Of course you had seen the way that he looked at that box. You had seen how he would rest his hand on that box, how his expression would turn from soft to pained and to soft again. Now and then he had even seemed to be humming a soft little melody while gently caressing over the lid of the box. Yet despite all of your questions, it had never felt right to ask him about it before he was ready to open up to you.

Closing his eyes again, Poe took a few shaky breaths. Letting his fingers wander up your arms, until they came to rest on your hands still holding his face, he tried to ground himself, focussing his attention on you. Your kindness, your gentleness, your warmth.

“Do you really want to know?” he finally managed to ask before his voice broke again.

“I do,” you said gingerly. “Of course I do. But… I wouldn’t want you to feel like you’d have to tell me anything that you aren’t ready to share yet.”

Nodding slowly, he furrowed his brow, deepening the pained expression on his face. An even more overwhelming wave of sadness radiated from his eyes, spreading over his already grief-stricken features. He tried to open and shut his mouth a few times before giving up and taking you by the hand to lead you into the bedroom.

You knelt down on the floor right next to him while he opened the drawer of his nightstand to remove the little wooden box and carefully opened the lid, revealing its contents to you. You saw the record sleeve and the lyric sheet and the napkin bundle tied together with the bowtie borrowed from Poe’s old childhood teddy Mr. Beebs.

Taking a deep breath, Poe took the bundle out of the box and placed it on the floor in front of you, unwrapping it ever so carefully.

He hadn’t opened it in decades. The moment that the napkin came undone around the broken pieces of the record, the tight layer of repressed feelings and ignored pain and buried grief wrapped around his heart fell away with it. Until there was nothing left to hold back the swelling flood of tears.

As soon as the first desperate sob ripped through his body so violently that it threatened to take his breath away, you were there. Catching him, holding him, comforting him, sheltering him.

And Poe cried like he had never cried before.

“It’s not fair! It’s not flipping fair, it’s not… she should be here… she should still be here… here with us…”

Everything seemed to bubble up to the surface at once. Pain and anger and confusion and helplessness.

“I wanted to hug him, I… I just really needed to hug him and… and I wanted to, but… but… but I was too small and… and… how could he just smash it?”

You were barely able to make any sense of all his memory fragments and turbulent emotions that were demanding attention all at once, but that wasn’t important right now.

“He came to apologize that night but I couldn’t… I couldn’t… I didn’t want him to see me cry and I… I… I should have…”

As you held him gently in your arms, he clung desperately to you, sobbing helplessly against your shoulder.

“I just… I… I failed them. Both…”

“Oh, Poe,” you whispered as you buried your face in his curls. And even though you knew that he wouldn’t be ready to believe you yet, you added gently but firmly, “You didn’t fail anybody!”

Smoothing some damp curls from his forehead, you pressed a tender kiss to the top of his head, when a new wave of tears began to stream down his face. Hot and desperate tears that had never been given a chance to dry, burning in his heart during all those years.

And now you were kissing them away. Softly. Every single one of them, even tough they were replaced by fresh ones immediately. Until sheer exhaustion made him collapse into your embrace.

As you cradled the back of his head, steadying him against your chest, rocking him gently back and forth, you knew that it wasn’t just your boyfriend crying in your arms. You held the wounded little boy, who couldn’t understand. Who blamed himself without even knowing what he had done wrong. Who hurt so deeply and yet would rather take care of everybody else around him before tending to his own wounds.

“I am here for you, Poe,” you cooed gently, hugging him tight. “I love you!”

And for the first time in decades, it felt like a few of the million shattered pieces of his heart were beginning to heal.

Unbeknownst to Poe, you made it your year’s goal to find the song for him.

The fact that Poe hadn’t been able to find it in all those years despite all his efforts, not even in the endless vastness of the internet, didn’t deter you in the slightest. Or so you thought. At least for the first eleven months of the year.

By the time December came around again, you were so close to admitting defeat that Poe began to worry about what brought you so low, even fearing that he might have been the one dampening your mood with his lack of Christmas spirit.

So, in an attempt to make up for that, he suggested taking you to the annual charity Christmas bazaar at your local school, hoping that a little Christmassy shopping spree for charity and the sparkly atmosphere of the Christmas lights might cheer you up again.

You tried not to get your hopes up, you really did. But the moment that Poe popped off to the restrooms and you found yourself stranded in front of a stall with several boxes of old forty-fives, you had to start browsing, of course.

Sorting swiftly through the records, you had gone through at least fifty of them, when your brain gave you a little jolt. You stopped. Going backwards very slowly, you looked at each of them again until you got back to the forty-second one. You carefully removed the record from the box. You read the title on the sleeve. You stared at it in disbelief. And you read it again. You shook your head. You read the title a third time. And despite your best attempts to stay calm, you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a little scream that made the elderly gentleman behind the display ask in concern whether you were all right. It took every ounce of self restraint you could muster to keep yourself from throwing your arms around him and hug him until he turned blue. In the end, you hugged him anyway.

After handing the stall owner enough money to prompt him to ask you again whether you were all right, you hid the record in your bag and quickly hurried past the next few stalls, hoping not to give anything away.

You still weren’t able to keep the shine out of your eyes, though. Which Poe noticed immediately the minute that he caught up with you.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked raising a confused eyebrow.

Letting out a happy sigh that you weren’t able to contain, you smiled, “I’m just really looking forward to Christmas!”

His gaze softened as he pulled you towards you, placing a tender kiss on top of your head. Gently rubbing your noses together, his smile grew wider until it painted crinkles around his eyes.

As he rested his forehead against yours, he whispered, “Me too!” And for the first time since what felt like forever, he actually meant it.

You spent the better part of the remainder of the run-up to Christmas trying to come up with the best possible plan to present the record to him. Should you simply hide it in a pile of other gifts in his stocking, should you make him close his eyes while you put the record on, should you wake him up with the music on Christmas Morning or maybe something completely different? In the end you decided that you would leave it up to Poe because the last thing you wanted was to overwhelm him in any way or even cause him more hurt.

When you found yourself cuddling with him on the couch on Christmas Eve, however, it became increasingly harder for you to remain patient until Christmas Morning.

Lying half atop on you, Poe had completely melted into your embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck, while you played with his hair. The ease and trust with which he relaxed in your arms melted your heart. You were just about to turn your head and place a gentle kiss to his temple, when he lifted his head.

“Are you okay, bups?” He asked, raising a worried eyebrow at you.

“Hmmm?” you mumbled a little absentmindedly. “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re as tense as a loaded spring about to go off. And I mean that in a very non-euphemistic, sfw way. Although…” he wriggled his eyebrows, looking way too cute with his tousled hair curling itself into every possible direction, “I wouldn’t mind adding some ‘n’ into the mix a little later…”

You couldn’t help breaking into giggles, which made Poe grin in return. “That’s better,” he smiled, placing a sweet little kiss to your forehead before furrowing his brow again. “Wanna tell me why you are so nervous?”

You really hadn’t intended to spoil this peaceful moment but you also knew that Poe wouldn’t stop worrying until he knew what was up. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly tried to wriggle yourself free from underneath Poe to sit up, drawing some grunts of protest and a pout from him.

“I have a little surprise for you.”

Humming in a slightly more relaxed tone, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards him again.

“And can we stay on the couch for that or do we have to transfer to the bedroom?”

You snorted, “I’ve clearly given you the wrong idea now.”

With another smile, you brushed a few stray curls from his forehead and left a soft kiss in their place.

“You can stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Getting up to fetch your little present from the hiding place in the bedroom, you swiftly returned and set down next to Poe before giving it to him.

It took a few moments for Poe to realize what he was holding in his hands. As they began to tremble, he couldn’t help but keep staring at the record.

“How… where did you…” he whispered.

You gently laid your hands on his before explaining softly, “Actually… you kind of led me to it yourself when you took me to the Christmas bazaar three weeks ago.”

He let out a small shaky laugh that turned into a soft sob.

You immediately began to rub his back in soothing circles, leaving tender kisses all over the side of his face until he began to lean into you.

“Would you like me to play it?” you asked him gently.

He slowly peeled his gaze away from the record to look at you. As his big brown puppy dog eyes began to sparkle, he slowly nodded as if in a daze. He had gotten so used to hearing the song only in his memory, had both dreaded and hoped for this moment over and over again. As you put the record on and the song began to float across the room, it felt too surreal for him to grasp.

The music sounded even softer than you had imagined it. And so much more comforting than Poe remembered.

It sounded like the warmth of his Mom’s hand caressing his face and his parents’ laughter and tickle fights and the smell of his Mom’s baking and Kes scooping him up to carry him on his shoulders and morning cuddles and running towards his parents’ embrace. Both of them holding out their hands for him.

Just like you did now.

“Dance with me?” you asked him softly. Warm and open and welcoming while still giving him all the room that he might need.

Poe’s tears fell more slowly this time. As you laid your arms around him, pulling him towards you, swaying both of you to the soft rhythm of the music, he didn’t fight the soft and shaky sobs that turned another layer of destructive pain and grief into hopeful feelings of comfort and familiarity and home.

His head found his place leaning on your shoulder as your cheek came to rest against his. You held him gently and at the same time so close that there seemed to be no room left for anything that might hurt him. And yet your embrace was so soft that he knew he could trust you with his wounded bare heart in your hands.

As he wept in your arms, you kept caressing over his curls, leaving a trail of soft kisses along his hairline until his tears began to mix with your own. The moment Poe noticed the wet streaks running down your face, his eyes widened in alarm and he quickly reached up to wipe your tears away. But you gently laid your hands on his and shook your head with a sparkly-eyed smile.

“Don’t worry about those, Poe. Not all tears are bad.”

And Poe’s eyes that had been sparkling with tears of pain and sorrow slowly began to sparkle with something else.

It might not have been quite what he had imagined the first time to be like. Dancing to his parents’ song in the light of the Christmas tree with his own special someone.

Yet as his sobs subsided to the gentle rhythm of your soft kisses to his face and your hands tenderly smoothing over his hair, right now in this moment, he felt like the luckiest person in the universe.

Except for one thing.

When he let out an involuntary sigh, you pressed one more kiss to the top of his head before asking, “Why don’t you call him? Ask him to come over for Christmas?”

“Who?” Poe raised his head in mild confusion.

“Your father?” you smiled.

“How did…” Trailing off and letting out another sigh, Poe began to shake his head. “Me and my father stopped doing Christmas years ago. I don’t even have his number.”

“Well, funny thing…”

As Poe began to raise his eyebrows, you allowed yourself to break into a mischievous little grin, making him smile through his tears.

“I spoke to Auntie Leia the other day, and…” you began.

“…she had his number and gave it to you?” Poe finished your sentence in only mild disbelief.

“Of course she did,” you nodded and smiled again. “I don’t know how but it’s like she knew.”

Poe shook his head, unable to suppress a soft giggle. “She always does.”

You hesitated a little before you asked him, “Did you know that your father keeps asking after you whenever he meets her?”

Sobering up immediately, Poe lowered his gaze to the ground, furrowing his brow. “No, I… I didn’t…”

“Hey…” Cupping his face and gently guiding him to look at you again, you asked, “I can call him for you if you don’t feel up to it?” Your eyes softened before you added, “And no, Poe… I don’t think that would be ‘silly’.”

Poe let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Could you do that for me…?”

So you did. And less than an hour later, Kes was standing at your door. His knock was so soft and cautious that you would have missed it, had you not been on your way to the kitchen at exactly that moment.

He was shivering from the cold as it looked like he hadn’t even bothered to take the time and find appropriate clothes for the freezing temperatures outside. Yet when you had introduced yourself and motioned quickly for him to come in and step into the warmth, he hesitated.

“Are you really sure that Poe wants to see me?” he asked full of doubt.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “Yes he does. Of course he does! We just didn’t expect you to be here so early.”

“Oh… if you want me to come back later…”

“No, no, please… come in! You must be freezing.”

As Kes stepped into the light of your flat, you could see the clear remnants of tears on his face that had been hastily wiped away. And your heart broke for him just as it had for his son.

Poe had spent the last half hour bent over your record player, carefully removing remnants of dust from the needle and the grooves of the record. Deeply focused on his work, he gave a little start when you entered the living room, announcing brightly, “Look who is here, sweetie.”

“Hello, Poe!”

Turning around, Poe let out a soft, “Hey…” before clearing his throat and saying more firmly, “I am glad that you came.”

“Really?!”

His father’s reaction threw him off for a few moments. Was he really so utterly convinced that Poe wouldn’t want to see him?

Kes had to swallow a few times as he began to fumble nervously with the handle of the bag he had brought with him.

“Oh… these are for you!” he finally said, producing a huge bag of chocolate koyo berries.

Poe gasped in surprise. “But… these take days to make, how did you…?”

The smile that spread across Kes’ face somehow made him look even sadder. “I still make them every year, just in case you might... Never mind, you probably don’t even like them anymore, I just thought…”

Taking a step towards Kes, Poe reassured him, “No, no, of course I still love them, that’s really thoughtful of you… Dad!”

For a brief moment, Poe’s gaze flickered over to you and you started the record player. It took only a few notes for Kes to recognize the melody and his eyes widened, displaying a myriad of emotions.

“I… I’ve been searching everywhere,” he whispered. “I thought that maybe if I could find it, if I could just… you might…” Kes’ voice broke and he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gain his composure.

When he opened them again, his son was standing right in front of him, offering his hand to his Dad. The look in his eyes was neither angry nor reproachful, but open and warm and encouraging with maybe a slightly pleading undertone. And it hit him full force just how much Poe reminded him of Shara in that moment.

Clasping a hand over his mouth, Kes let out a half-stifled shaky sob as his eyes began to glisten with tears. Taking a careful step towards his son, he took Poe’s hand into both of his. Placing the softest of kisses on his son’s hand, he gently held it against his chest right above his heart.

“Oh, Poey,” he whispered. “I am so... I am so…”

The moment his voice faltered again, Poe pulled his Dad into a hug. This drew a surprised little gasp from Kes before he threw his arms around his son, holding him closer than he had ever held him before. Like he was never going to let him go again. He knew that he might not be able to make up for lost time. But he could show Poe how much he meant to him right here and right now. Between violent sobs and desperate kisses to his temple and his cheek, Kes pulled his son close over and over again.

“Me, too!” Poe whispered through his own tears. “It’s okay, Dad… I love you!”

Maybe okay wasn’t exactly the right word. Maybe it was never really gonna be okay again. But as they both clung to each other, it certainly felt more okay than it had in a very long time. Maybe this could be the beginning of creating their new okay.

As his Dad’s desperate kisses slowly turned softer, he pulled back just enough to be able to gently cup his son’s face in his hands. “I love you, too, Poe. So so so damn much!”

You were just about to sneak out of the door to give them some room when Poe softly called out to you, “Hey… c’mere!”

They both invited you to join them with open arms. There may have been some feet casualties before the three of you found your rhythm but those were easily laughed away.

Christmas Eve turned into Christmas Day and Poe was still dancing. Safe and snug in a hug sandwich between the two people that he loved more than anything else in this world and who loved him just as much in return.

As Poe’s face once again found his familiar place in the crook of your neck, he mumbled, “I wish my Mom could have met you. I really wish that she could have been here with us just one more time.”

“I think she is, Poe!”

Instead of an answer, he let out a little sob against your shoulder, hugging both you and his Dad a little tighter, as Kes gently ruffled his hair.

And when Poe looked up again and his gaze came to rest on the star at the top of the Christmas tree, he could have sworn that it shone brighter than he could ever remember.

Sometimes life may cause you wounds that seem to hurt so deeply that all the time in the universe wouldn’t be able to heal them.

And sometimes… sometimes all you need to make the pain a little more bearable is someone to take your hand, hold you gently, kiss you softly and tell you that they love you.

Thank you for reading 💜

[wildestdreamsblog]

I reaaaally love your blog and writing. You deserve all the followers and attention!! Yandere is so difficult to make accessible because it has so much potential to be negatively triggering instead of….like….arousing…ly? The whole fear to….haappy chemicals…I don’t know the science 🥹 but you do it perfectly.I am always amazed and in love with what you write❤️❤️❤️

For your follower event, if you arent too full alreadddy. Thinking “You were only supposed to be a temporary psychologist where a member was confined “ with Hoseok or Seokjin?

I had a dream like that recently and I can’t get it out. I would love to see your rendition 🙏

Happy Easter, I hope you enjoy the chocolates and bunnies ❤️

My Sunshine

Pairing: Patient!Jung Hoseok x Psychologist!Reader

Warnings: Soft Yandere, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Slight sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: ahhhhh yes, our love for twisted love! Tysm for loving my works! Belated Happy Easter hehe this was late but tysm for celebrating with me.

3000 celebration

He kept on smiling.

Had you met him under differences circumstances, you were certain that the thought of him being a danger to the society wouldn’t cross your mind. You were sure that under different circumstances, you and him would be friends. He had that specific aura in him, as though he was the sun that brought light to the world. He looked as though anyone could mess up and he wouldn’t have it in him to be angry. Not only did he look kind, but he was one of the most good looking men you had ever laid eyes on. His prominent jaw and his heart-shaped lips were only some of the attributes that stood out. His eyes were crinkling as he continued smiling at you.

Jung Hoseok looked like the kindest person you would ever meet.

Except that he did send twelve people to the hospital. The worst part of it all was that he was seen to be laughing as he beat up the men. He was said to be having the time of his life as he bathe on their blood.

He was happy.

Just like now.

You cleared your throat and crossed your legs, your notepad resting on your thighs as you tried to calm your nerves. Hoesok looked like he was not affected by any of this, as though he was not mandated by court to be evaluated psychologically. He was too calm as though he wasn’t currently confined in a mental institution because, and he quoted, he was a menace to the society.

Yet there he was, sitting on the couch in front of you with his hands resting on his lap- an image of a good, patient student.

“You look nervous, Doctor. Please, don’t be,” he broke the silence with his comforting voice, his eyes shining with genuine worry over your state. “I don’t bite.”

Oh, but he did bite that one guy. But not you, though. He decided you looked like a good person. The psychologist that came before you was on mental health leave. He stated that Hoseok’s case was stressing him out, that he was beyond saving and so they temporarily sent the new doctor in. For the life of him, he didn’t know why he was the cause of that doctor’s stress when all he did was smile at him.

Maybe he should stop smiling? Ahh, but he was just so happy, he thought.

“How are you, Hoseok?” You finally asked, looking up from his files to the man himself who was still…smiling so unnervingly.

He tilted his head in what someone could described as adorable. “The food is bland, doc. I think I’m losing weight since they sent me here two months ago,” he replied with a shudder, remembering the tasteless meals they made him eat. He even volunteered to replace the cook and they only looked at him with fear in their eyes. He was being serious, though.

You stood up without a second thought, going straight to your bag to grab your packed lunch. You were walking to him when you paused, suddenly thinking of the warnings they told you.

Don’t get too close, they said.

Don’t get fooled by his innocent face, they said.

He’s dangerous, they said.

He’s obsessive, they said.

In hindsight though, you should have listened to them. But then you kept on walking and placed your food container on the coffee table in front of him. He was watching you curiously, that smile was still ever so present on his face. He watched you hesitate before looking at him, your hand holding your own utensils.

“I won’t hurt you,” Hoseok claimed with a nod. He knew you what you were thinking. He wasn’t a bad man, he would never hurt you.

You blinked owlishly when he caught on what you were thinking before slowly placing the utensils in his large hand. “I’m choosing to trust you, Hoseok.”

A bad decision, really.

That day, he finished the food for the first time since he was institutionalized. You were good at cooking, and he found himself looking forward to his visits. He found himself hating when the clock strikes one hour. He hated when he had to leave.

The first few visits, he would only smile at you and would evade your questions with his silence. And so, you started talking about your day, your family, your work- anything to fill the silence for an hour. Jung Hoseok merely listened. You did it for another two visits until he started chiming in, asking you follow-up questions with such genuine curiosity. It was during the fifth visit when he started sharing about his childhood, about how he had a loving mom and a younger sister…about how they both perished because of some stupid break-in that happened when he wasn’t there to protect them.

He was sixteen.

You told him it wasn’t his fault, that he had no control over what happened before. You told him that he shouldn’t blame himself.

He grinned at you and told you that yes, he didn’t have control before. But now, he had all the control and power. “I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to my family again.”

You frowned at his words before looking down at the file you had already gone through several times. Did you miss the information about his family? You were certain he had none. He was said to be merely existing with no known ties. Or had all of you been fooled?

“You’re cute when you’re confused,” he observed as he leaned in, his chin resting delicately on his hand. “Your face is so expressive. You’re like a…sunshine.”

Your eyes widened from his unexpected compliment, and you couldn’t help but feel you cheeks warming up. “And I like how sunshine makes me feel,” he trailed off before smiling even brighter at you.

Brushing off the confusing feelings he evoked from you, you looked at the peculiar man, in front of you before straightening your back. “It says on the file that you no longer have living relatives.”

“I’m referring to the future family I’ll surely have, sunshine,” he divulged dreamily as though having a family of his own was promised to him.

That day was the first time you saw the swirling darkness and insanity in his eyes.

You didn’t look up when he entered the room for his visit this time, your eyes focused on your laptop to keep your emotion in check. You heard the nurse removing his straight jacket before leaving the room.

Hoseok observed you from the distance he hated, your head bowed on the device when he heard it. You sniffed, your eyes looked swollen.

Were you crying?

Hoseok felt his hand turned into a fist, his smile faltering slightly. He badly wanted to come to you if not for the device enclasping his ankle. He detested that thing- how it could control him, how it could stop him from going to you.

Additionally, he wondered why he cared…or why he didn’t care that he was falling for you.

“Who do I have to hurt, sunshine?” He inquired with a reassuring smile that did anything but reassured you. You haltered your movement before slowly sitting down in front or him.

“I didn’t bring you food today. I’m sorry-“

He waved his hand at you, his focus not on the delicious meals you always brought him. His main focus was on who he had to hurt for hurting you. “Why are you crying, sunshine?”

You swallowed the rising tightness in your throat, tears desperately wanting to fall. “I’m not-“

“Tsk. We don’t lie here, sunshine. You made me promise not to lie to you. Shouldn’t you, too?”

“I just-“ you took a deep breath to calm yourself before looking at anywhere but him. “I just had an awful week, Hoseok. It’s just a lot. My other clients aren’t exactly as…kind as you are. I have a lot of responsibilities on top of my grandmother’s hospital bills-“ you cut yourself off before you could even rant longer. You dared to raise your eyes to his, only to find him listening intently. The twisted gears in his mind turning as he processed what you were saying. “I-I’m sorry. You’re my patient. I shouldn’t have-“ you trailed off before clearing your throat. “That was unprofessional of me. You have your own problems and you didn’t need to hear mine.”

He regarded you for a moment with silence that wasn’t welcomed, a tad bit too long before he beamed at you once again. “Would you like to hear about my past, sunshine?”

“Of course,” you answered, hiding your excitement. You barely scratched the surface with him, only letting you know what he wanted you to know. And besides, his old psychiatrist would come back soon. After all, his court hearing was fast approaching.

He smiled eagerly at you before tapping the space next to him. He saw you hesitated. Hoseok hated that. Oh what he would give to see you come willingly to him, he thought. Ah, it would come. He was sure.

“It’s a secret, sunshine,” he added as though it would convinced you. “You need to come near me so I can whisper it to you,” he reasoned out with a pout, his eyes twinkling with mischief. You were safe with him. He promised himself never to hurt you when he accepted that he was falling for you. He watched you with enthusiasm and when you finally sat next to him, he felt the happiest. He turned to you before thoughtlessly holding your soft hand in his larger one. Your heart beat faster. You never expected his hand to be warm and strong. He was confusing you. Jung Hoseok was messing with your emotions. They did warn you, but you had always been a stubborn girl since you were young. You were about to pull it away from him when he spoke.

“My father was the leader of an…organization,” he began, his eyes focused on the way your hand was smaller than his. He loved how the size difference made him feel. He loved… “It was his enemies who murdered my family.”

You stopped pulling your hand away from him. He was finally sharing. He was finally letting you in his dark and bloody past. “Where is your father, Hoseok?”

He chuckled as if you asked him a funny question. He was now nuzzling your hand, rubbing it so gently against his cheek.

You didn’t have to know who was his first kill.

You didn’t have to know it was his own flesh and blood.

“He’s dead, sunshine. Not that I care,” he mused before planting small kisses on the back your hand, his hold tightening when he felt you about to pull away. “He was an abusive person who hurt my mother. That’s not love, right?” He asked you before turning his head to you. He was close…so close that you could clearly see the color of his eyes, could clearly count the little freckles on his face. He was so close that you could feel the heat coming from him.

Hoseok smiled at you before lifting his hand and caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. He was watching his hand touched your skin as though he was enchanted by it. He smiled, still smiling when the conversation was as heavy as this way. “You don’t hurt the people you love. Because if you did, that’s simply not love.”

You went home that day with your thoughts scrambled by what he revealed. You weren’t aware that he was that powerful, that his family was one of the richest and most powerful family in the country. You weren’t aware of how dangerous he really was.

But you were now as you looked at the email from the hospital stating that your bill and any succeeding treatments were all taken care of by none other than the Jung Group of Companies.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said for the fifth time today, your patience running thin from how stubborn he was. You were sitting in front of him despite his insistence that you sat next to him. He missed you. Thrice a week visitation was starting to not be enough for him. He worried for you constantly.

Did you eat?

Did you come home safe?

Did any other fuckers looked at you?

Did they?

Did they try to get your attention?

Did someone try to touch you?

Did they?

See, he worried. And it was for that reason that he had someone following you for your protection, and well…his sanity.

“Come sit with me, my sunshine,” he smiled at you as he patted not the sit beside him, but his lap this time. Your eyes widened at what he wanted. You weren’t a fool, you noticed him becoming touchy with you. You noticed him starting to be possessive of you. You were shaking your head before walking further away from him.

He hated seeing you walked away from him. He tilted his head to the side before giving you what he knew you couldn’t resist. “My sunshine,” he called you in a sing-song voice, smiling so sweetly at you it made you sick. “If you come to me now, I’ll tell you about why I beat those boys. And wouldn’t that make your job easier?”

He could see the fight in your eyes, could see you wondering whether you should trust him. In his opinion, you should trust him. He only wanted what was best for you, and well…he was the best for you. He watched you make your decision, and at the end, your sense of self-preservation lost the fight. He was triumphant as he held you in his arms, his hand caressing your waist.

God, he loved you.

“You see…those men,” he whispered from behind you, his lips touching your neck as he spoke and you couldn’t help but feel goosebumps from the way he touched you. “They were the one who murdered my family.

You stiffened from what he said…and from his lips that were peppering open-mouthed kisses on your neck. His hold on you was tight, his other hand caressing your smooth thigh. “And if you do a bad thing, shouldn’t there be consequences? You know…I waited too long for justice to come. I was patient, until I wasn’t. They weren’t atoning for their sins, sunshine. They keep on hurting innocent people. And I stopped them,” he whispered hotly in your ear, his finger so close to your core. Fuck, were you just as twisted as he was? How could you be attracted to him? To this?

Your core clenched when he traced your slit on top of your underwear. He chuckled when he felt how wet you were. He couldn’t wait to marry you. He couldn’t wait for the beautiful family that the two of you would create.

“That way, they could no longer hurt anyone. Am I not the good guy here?”

You could see it clearly now. Jung Hoseok had a distorted concept on what was right and wrong. He saw everything as black and white, his foundation was that he was good to those who were kind, yet he was even worse to those who were bad.

He enjoyed delivering his twisted justice.

“And if I’m the good guy, don’t I deserve the happily, ever after?” He whispered. You turned to look at him, his pupils blown wide evidencing his lust. He smiled at you before leaning in and kissing you so softly you thought it was your imagination. “I think I do, my sunshine. I think I deserve you.”

A knock woke you up from the twisted and hypnotic words from Hoseok. Your hour was done. You stood up hastily, fixing your skirt and blouse before facing him. Fuck, what had you done?

“I-I think…I think you need another doctor. This is our last meeting,” you stammered at the calm Jung Hoseok. He was sitting on the couch with his legs spread apart, his eyes focused on you. For the first time since you met him, he lost his smile. He looked dangerous. He was dangerous.

You should have listened to them.

Next week was his final hearing, and he already knew what would happen. He wasn’t a Jung for nothing. If you thought you would leave him that easy, you were in for a treat. He would be with you after his hearing. It would all be done. You would finally be in his arms each night. And it was that thought that calmed him down.

He only smirked, “See you next week…my sunshine.”

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now - Easter Outtake

Fic masterlist

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY TO LAUN!!

SURPRISE!! I’m late to my own party, and I 100% apologize for that

But!

I can’t believe LAUN is a year old already 🥹🥹 they grow up so fast!! I don’t think an Easter celebration is canon compliant at all, but I couldn’t let the opportunity slip away when LAUN’s 1st anniversary came right on Easter 🥹🥹🥹 I’m so emotional 🥹

I’m also aware that not everyone here celebrates Easter, but honestly this was just an excuse to write fluff and chocolate gift-giving. I hope everyone finds a way to enjoy it!

And I feel like we all deserve a post-epilogue glimpse after an entire year of these two idiots heheheh

Warnings: cranky teenager Maisie, sibling fights (lots)

Words: 3k

Every time Aelin mocked Rowan for spoiling their kids too much, it completely lacked the awareness that she was the one he spoiled the most.

Or at least that was on Maisie’s mind as she strolled down the supermarket’s aisles with her little brother, because Mom wrote in the family group chat that she wanted pasta for dinner, so Dad asked Maisie to buy the ingredients after school.

“Finn,” she called her unrequited companion, “do you remember which olive oil Dad likes?”

“Uh…” The boy hesitated without taking his eyes off his Nintendo Switch. “I dunno, that green one?”

Maisie slapped her brother’s forearm with the back of her hand. “Are you being for real right now?”

Startled, the boy raised his head to see row after row of different green bottles of olive oil. They all looked exactly the same, but she knew better than to grab the first one they saw, knowing how fussy her dad could be sometimes.

“Gods! Just call him—that’s why you have a fucking phone,” Finn said while rubbing off the sting on his forearm.

Maisie rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell him you dropped a F-bomb.”

“And I’ll tell him you slapped me.”

“He’d be on your side,” she said while texting Rowan about the olive oil. “You’re so much shorter than me—he’d say it’s not a fair fight.”

“Take it back!” He ran towards Maisie for a second, since she was on her way to get tomatoes now. “When I get taller than Uncle Lorcan, you’ll wish you were less mean to me.”

Well, that would be a problem for future Maisie. At ten years old, Finn was so short, taunting him about it was almost too easy.

“Yeah, whatever.” She tapped her brother’s shoulder and pointed at another direction. “Go get the parmesan cheese.”

Finn turned to leave, but swung back to her. “Can we have ice cream later?”

Ice cream that she would have to pay, because she couldn’t report to the parental unit about illicit ice cream before dinner, let alone request a refund.

“Fine, just—“

“Alright! I’m there!”

Ever since Maisie got her first job, her brother started acting as if she was a millionaire. Sometimes, she wondered if he believed that her salary was the same as their parents’, which would be highly inaccurate. Despite the age gap, her parents never asked Maisie to act in any way that resembled a parental role—still, she liked to treat her siblings once in a while, give their jobless selves a taste of freedom, let them see what it’s like to have ice cream before dinner just because you can.

Before she knew it, he was back with the cheese.

“Can you buy me that Kinder Easter egg?” He pointed at a cardboard display filled with them. “The one with the dinosaur.”

Maisie narrowed her eyes on Finn. “You told Mom you wanted another one.”

“Yeah, because she only let me pick one.”

Her eyebrows shot when she came closer and saw the price tag. “Hell, no. I’d rather pay for a new haircut.”

“Hey!” Finn protested, running a hand through his newly cut hair. “Mom said she likes it!”

“You look ridiculous.”

“I’m so gonna tell her you said that.”

“Do it. Deep down, she agrees with me.”

˜˜

When she arrived, the house was calmer than usual.

“You aren’t magic!” Eamon shouted to his smirking, completely unfazed sister. “You’re not!”

Maisie walked past them towards the kitchen, where her dad prepped dinner as if the twins weren’t about to rip each other’s heads off in the living room.

“Hey, Maisy Daisy,” he called without looking away from the onion he was chopping. “Did you get everything?”

She put the bags on the counter as an answer, then her dad kissed the crown of her head in thanks and promised to repay her later.

Things didn’t seem to progress at all in the living room—actually, they did, if one could count Eamon getting angrier as progress.

“You don’t fly! You don’t control fire! You don’t teleport!”

Enid giggled. “I know how, I just don’t want to.”

“NO! YOU CAN’T!”

Maisie cut in, “I mean, she could.”

That made the boy stop and narrow his eyes on her, begrudgingly hanging on to whatever she was about to say. Since she was more than twice the twins’ age and the wisest of them all, sometimes her siblings actually listened to something Maisie said.

“I mean…” she shrugged. “We don’t know where you two came from, so maybe she really does have magic.”

Enid crossed her arms. “What do you mean?”

“FINN!” Maisie shouted and waited a moment for her brother to come out of his room. “Do you remember when we found Enid and Eamon in the trash?”

“That’s a lie!” Her ever-so-cool little sister yelled, her green eyes welling up.

“Oh, yeah.” Finn said after taking a moment to process the information, acting nonchalant—if he laughed, it was game over. “That day was wild.”

Eamon stood frozen in shock, while Enid bellowed an ear-shattering cry.

“Maisie! Finn!” Rowan yelled from the kitchen. “Stop telling your siblings we found them in the trash!”

“But they need to know the truth!” Maisie shouted back, wondering if her dad heard her over Enid’s cries.

“What on Earth is going on here?” Her Mom showed up, wrapped in a towel with her hair wet.

Eamon ran to hug Aelin’s middle, his eyes teary. “Are you not my mommy?”

Maisie rolled her eyes. Mama’s boy.

“Of course I am, honey.” She frowned. “What’s going on?”

With a sigh, Dad was finally able to join the rest in the living room. “Finn and Maisie told the twins they’re adopted.”

Aelin sent them her classic Are you kidding me? mom look, as if Maisie was to blame, then proceeded to soothe the seven-year-olds.

If they fell for it, it was their fault for being stupid. There’s a picture of Dad as a kid on Grandma Rory’s hallway from when he was Eamon’s age, and they look like the same person in there.

“The only one adopted here was Fleetfoot,” Dad said.

“No, she’s not. I gave birth to her.” Mom sent him a mischievous look. “I went into labor for her.”

“Um—“ Maisie cleared her throat. “Fleetfoot’s mine.”

Dad sent Mom an apologetic smile. “She really is Maisie’s.”

“I want a dog too!” Enid cut in.

“Yeah, me too!” Finn joined.

Maisie hummed. “We could give them a country name…”

“Like Eyllwe,” Eamon said.

Rowan’s eyes widened. “No! Fleetfoot’s everyone’s,” he said, completely contradicting himself after the threat of more poop for him to clean.

˜˜

From the looks of it, dinner would be ready on time for breakfast.

To be fair, her dad was never late to finish dinner, but his desire to make this a special one and the boiling tomatoes in order to make the sauce from scratch led to this.

It was kinda cute, how Dad conjured something special out of thin air just because his wife hinted that she was feeling like it over text while they were at work.

Maisie saw a glimpse of her parents canoodling in the kitchen on her way to her bedroom, but almost ran to the toilet instead. They were so adorably disgusting, all that love made her want to throw up.

Her parents were no better than any PDA-addicted straight couple she saw at school, except that while the average high schooler couple lasted about three months, her parents have been at it for a little over a decade.

At least, a light peck was the furthest they got in front of their kids—or ever. For all Maisie knew, she and her three siblings came from artificial insemination.

A savior from her thoughts, Finn knocked on the door.

“We need to talk,” he said, looking crestfallen.

“C’mere.”

Maisie sat on the side of her bed, and tapped the free space beside her for him to sit. Instead, he sat on her lap. Weird.

She was about to ask him what was going on when a low, rumbling sound coming from him filled the air.

The little bitch had just farted on her.

Finn ran away, giggling, while Maisie screamed the most irate shriek ever known to man.

He locked himself in his bedroom, but her quickened pulse only energized her, aiding tense upper arms to pound against his door.

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU,” Maisie shouted at her hiding brother.

He’d get out sometime, and when he did, she’d be there.

On the kitchen’s threshold, Aelin peeked her head into the hallway. “What’s going on here?”

The teenager slowly turned to her mom, jaw tight, and seethed, “Why. Was. He. Born?”

With a sigh that came deep from her soul, Aelin fully stepped into the hallway. “What did your brother do now?”

Maisie pointed at her closed bedroom door. “Smell it!”

Her mom stepped in and out of the bedroom, coughing. “Gods, Finn!”

In a feeble attempt to fix the situation, Aelin opened Maisie’s bedroom’s window and sprayed some air freshener inside—one hand on the bottle, another clamping her nose. Still, the girl didn’t trust to go back into her room for the next hour or so.

Aelin knocked on Finn’s door twice to get his attention. “That was way too stinky, honey, I’m cutting off some of your junk food!”

“Come on!” he complained from the other side of the door.

Too bad Finn couldn’t see her triumphant smirk. It’d rile him up beautifully.

Two taps to her shoulder. “Dinner’s almost ready. Come help me set the table.”

“What was that?” Dad asked when Mom got back to the kitchen, focused on the stove.

“Finn farted in Maisie's room and she threatened his life.”

“Oh,” was all he said, mixing something on the tomato sauce.

She desperately needed to meet whoever taught her parents how to live this peacefully amidst chaos.

“On my room? He farted on me.” She flailed her arms, trying to explain her brother’s audacity. “He sat on my lap, his butt to my thigh, and farted.”

Aelin snorted. “I told you the kids shouldn’t spend that much time with Aedion.”

Rowan’s eyes lit up. “You did tell me some awfully similar stories from when you were younger.”

After the table was set, Mom was back to her occasional glass of wine, and all was left to do was her dad’s finishing touches to dinner.

Maisie cleared her throat. “I was thinking…”

Her dad immediately turned around and pointed a spoon at her. “If it’s about that party, don’t bother.”

“Not a party!”

“Money, then.” Aelin smirked behind her glass of wine.

The girl crossed her arms. Her mom’s grin turned smug.

Maisie groaned. “Fine! But it’s good, I promise.”

“Go on,” Rowan said.

“I want to buy Easter eggs for Finn and the twins, but I can’t afford the cool ones.”

“Aw, honey, that’s so sweet.” Her mom melted right on spot. “I’m sorry we can’t help you with that.”

Maisie’s face fell. “What.”

Even her dad seemed a little confused, though he tried to hide it.

Aelin sat straighter to explain, “You see, if we help you with this, your siblings will ask to do the same, and it wouldn’t be fair to say no to them after…”

Maisie rolled her eyes. Her parents and their “equal treatment”—

“Do not roll your eyes at your mother,” Rowan warned.

Aelin continued, “Next thing we know, we spent our entire paychecks on chocolate, Finn is farting on our faces all day, the twins will never fall asleep again from the sugar rush, and your dad will be shoving food down your throat because of some crazy diet you saw online to get rid of the Easter weight.” She raised her brow in that infuriating mom way of hers. “Did I miss something?”

“Fine!” Maisie held both arms up in surrender. “You want me to buy your kids lame chocolate, is that it?”

“If they can’t appreciate whatever you can afford, I’m not raising them right.”

“Ugh!” Maisie groaned, and sat facing away from her mother.

A moment later, Dad sent her off to tell her siblings dinner was ready, and soon everyone was at the table, ready to attack the food that took ages to be ready.

Except that, when she asked for the parmesan cheese, Enid took it and kept waving it in front of her instead of just passing it over.

After seven years of Enid, Maisie was unimpressed. “Are you trying to tease me?”

The little girl giggled. “No, you can have it, but I want to see your eyes light up first!”

With a sigh, Rowan took it from Enid’s hand and passed it over to Maisie. “Can we just try to be rational for once?”

“I was rational once,” Eamon said, frowning.

With his mouth full, Finn said, “I want the next special dinner to be at one of those fancy pasta places with two forks.”

“Manners,” Aelin warned the wild beast she called a son.

“Mom and Dad never take us to fancy restaurants for a reason,” Maisie said while giving a pointed look to Finn, who was by her side.

The boy rolled his eyes and mimicked in a high-pitched voice, “MoM aND dAD nEVer tAkE uS tO fANcY rEStAuRaNts FoR a rEasOn.”

Maisie slapped her brother’s forearm, and that’s when her parents lost patience.

Rowan lifted his pointed finger, “Do not—“

“Maisie, Finn, for Mala’s sake…” Aelin started, pinching the bridge of her nose.

˜˜

Later that night, Maisie was scrolling on TikTok before sleep, but two knocks on her bedroom door stopped her short.

It was Finn, holding his blanket. More often than not, he slept in Maisie’s room—she wasn’t sure why, but it’d been this way since he was little. Already knowing what was about to happen, Fleetfoot moved to the foot of the bed to give him space. Her bed might look big, but it didn’t have nearly enough space for two people and a person-sized dog.

When she was taking off her many pillows to find some space for her brother, a bulky-looking folded paper caught her eye.

Maisie hid it back with the pillow and said, “Go get me some water.”

Finn complained, but complied.

Quickly unfolding the paper in the little time she had, Maisie recognized her dad’s writing and a fuckton of cash—not too much for an Air Force major, but enough to make a teenager who had a minimum-wage part-time job feel like a billionaire.

Groceries refund + your delivery fee

Don’t mention it—ever

Maisie’s grin grew wicked. She fucking loved her dad.

˜˜

Finding a reason to get out of the house on Easter was tough, but she managed it.

Maisie had already picked her dad’s sushi-filled Easter egg at the restaurant, since he hated chocolate, and the other ones had been retrieved from its hiding place at Uncle Aedion’s.

Inside her house, Finn was the first one to greet her.

He eyed her bags suspiciously. “What’s all that?”

Without a word, she took one Kinder egg that fit in her palm, and handed it to him. Finn took it in his hand, contemplated it for a second with a silly half-smile, then hugged Maisie tight, squeezing her waist.

“Gods!” She lightly slapped his head. “You’re so dumb.”

Before he processed what happened, Maisie got his actual Easter egg, the Kinder with the dinosaur he wanted.

His eyes lit up and his mouth hung open, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, her brother crushed her into a hug that knocked her breath out of her lungs.

“Thanks, Mais.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She took a second to take it in, than wiggled out of his hug to hand the twins’ ones.

They looked so happy, it didn’t even look like Mom and Dad gave each of them giant Easter eggs three hours ago.

Her parents were watching them from afar, wearing one of those weird, sentimental parent smiles.

When she took out her dad’s from the bag, Rowan finally looked surprised—which was easily detected by his wife.

The “shell” part of his Easter egg was just nori and rice, but it was filled with seafood. Dad twirled his sushi egg in his hands, mouth ajar. “Honey, I didn’t think you’d get me something too. You didn’t have to.”

“Too?” Mom asked, lips quirked up. Her eyes sparkled, darted between Maisie and Rowan, then landed on her daughter. “Good to know you found a way to afford it.”

“I’m my father’s daughter.” Maisie shrugged. “Of course I know how to save money.”

She also knew how to spend it like her mother, but it wouldn’t be smart to mention right now.

At that point, Maisie knew Aelin figured out that Rowan gave her the money, and Mom knew Maisie knew she knew. Neither of them would say a word, though, and it was best this way.

She handed her mom’s next, a chocolate hazelnut Easter egg the size of Aelin’s head.

“I didn’t know Dad bought you the same one,” Maisie said with a sheepish smile.

“You won’t hear me complaining, honey.” Her mom kept intense eye contact with her Easter egg, likely unwrapping it in her mind as if she didn’t have a half-eaten identical one in her bedroom.

Aelin put her gift on the coffee table near them and hugged Maisie. “I love you, honey,” she said before kissing her daughter’s head. “Thank you for the gift. You’re such a great big sister.”

“I know, right?”

However, their hug was abruptly broken by shouting coming from the other side of the living room.

“Stop. Being. An idiot!” Enid shouted at Eamon for whatever reason they decided to bicker over this afternoon.

“We’re both idiots, but you’re the bigger idiot!” he fought back.

Maisie tapped her mom’s shoulders. “Go tame your evil twins.”

“Don’t call your siblings that!”

She sighed, not surprised by how quickly their moment of peace—a rarity in her home—was broken.

Weirdly enough, her parents seemed to enjoy it.

A/N: In the plans of this outtake I have deep into my notes app, Aelin mentions that since her husband doesn’t like chocolate, her Easter gift to him would be given “later tonight”. I thought you’d like to know *wink*

2nd A/N: Yes I left Maisie’s exact age in the dark on purpose heheheh this one spoiler I’m not handing out like this.

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[promptthebear]

Hi sorry, I don’t rlly know how to request but I hope this makes a bit sense > _ < 👍

🧺Arthur Fleck Joker - Something about Easter, what they would do and would they do hide and seek? Idk surprise us! :3 🙌

Happy Easter too! ✨ 🪺

💐Celebrating Easter with Arthur Fleck 💐

CW: Child abuse, parental neglect, food insecurity.

First off, I can’t imagine that Arthur really celebrated a lot of holidays growing up.

He probably had the typical crafts and class parties at school, which he enjoyed very much, but what would happen at home was kind of a toss up.

If Penny was lucid, and they had the money, I can see her being the type to go all out. Most food bank programs offer special meals or food related to those meals around the holidays. Penny would absolutely take full advantage of that, and do either a turkey or ham dinner with all the fixings.

Arthur remembers these moments fondly, sitting on the couch with a full belly and maybe watching a church service or something on TV while he and his Mom decorate eggs. Having food for days after between the dinner leftovers and the eggs, which for Arthur meant eating like a king at least for awhile.

However, if Penny was having an episode or worse if they were staying with one of her so called “boyfriends?”

Well, in those cases Arthur was lucky if the day passed without ceremony like any other.

Depending on the conditions of their place, Easter could mean he got one less beating on account of the holiday and the closest thing he’d get to dinner was dry crackers and a juice box that he managed to scrounge up from the cupboards, if that.

Arthur doesn’t like thinking about those times too much. It’s just another reminder of all the happiness he missed out on and is desperately trying to bring back into his life.

After meeting and having a relationship with you, he’d probably mention all of this at one point or another when the holidays start coming around.

Even if he’s still living with Penny, or if you have your own place, you’d probably go all out to compensate for his childhood.

You’d probably go as far as to plan an itinerary and a menu, which both confuses and delights Arthur.

Him??? You’re really doing all this for him??? But it’s too much trouble, too much work, at least let him help with the-

Shush baby boy, just relax and let your partner spoil you.

First on the agenda? Special Easter breakfast.

Whether you stay over from Saturday or come early Sunday morning, Arthur is woken up by the smell of pancakes and bacon.

As far as I’m concerned, Easter breakfast is almost as important as Christmas. Especially if you come from a Catholic family and were fasting for lent like mine did sometimes.

Arthur isn’t even off of his sofa bed before you’re putting a heaping plate in his lap.

For a moment, he’d be too stunned to speak. You’d really outdone yourself.

First off, there’s a whole pile of bacon, still steaming hot and cooked to a crisp just how he likes.

“You eat every bite of that, or else.”

It’s not a real threat because you give him a gentle poke in the ribs when you say it. Arthur knows you’re doing it because you care and want him to have a decent meal for once.

Next are the pancakes. Oh my god, the pancakes.

These aren’t your garden variety, maple syrup and butter kind of pancakes.

Like yes, you’ve included those things, but also you’ve gone the extra mile and added in fresh fruit and chocolate chips and even tried to make some into fun shapes.

There’s an “A” shaped one, as well as a bunny with a blueberry eyes and a strawberry nose, and best of all, a clown with banana slice and chocolate chip eyes, a raspberry nose, jam mouth and whipped cream hair.

They’re so pretty Arthur almost doesn’t want to eat them, but does in the end because he doesn’t want you to feel like he doesn’t appreciate it.

Of course, know you’re getting a kiss between each and every bite.

It’s while he’s eating that Arthur also notices the colourful eggs that are stashed around the apartment. He’d look over at you, eyes sparkling with delight and give you a big grin.

“Are we gonna do an egg hunt???”

He can’t remember the last time he’s done an egg hunt, if ever. Even on the good Easters, usually all they did was dye some eggs to eat later since Penny was usually too sick or didn’t have the extra money to commit to an egg hunt.

You’d smile back, and lean down to give Arthur a kiss on the forehead. “Mmm-hmmm, though don’t get too excited. There’s no chocolate in these ones but they’ll lead you to your next surprise”

It’s all Arthur can to do wolf down the last off his food before he’s off like a shot, tearing around the apartment like he’s setting an Olympic record for egg finding.

You love seeing him like this and the way the childlike wonder takes years off his expression and posture. This is Arthur at his most authentic and you want to cherish every second.

You tried to be as creative as possible when hiding the eggs, even in such a small place. There’s six of them in total and Arthur finds them all in about twenty minutes.

Like you said, the eggs don’t contain chocolate but instead are plastic shells that pop open with something inside.

Arthur would spread the contents out on the coffee table and discover that it’s basically a picture puzzle with the pieces cut into horizontal strips.

Immediately, he’s all business. He’d hunch over the coffee table and light a cigarette, his expression one of intense focus.

When you try to help or give him hints, he waves you off, determined to solve this by himself and make the most of your hard work.

So of course, you oblige him. If you’re in the apartment he shares with Penny you’d probably check in on her and make sure she has something to eat, explaining that you and Arthur will be going out for the day.

If it’s a place you and Arthur share by yourselves, then you’d start cleaning up the dishes and the kitchen while he works at the puzzle.

For once the two of you have the chance to bask in peaceful, domestic silence. While you’re excited to do all the activities you planned with Arthur, you know this is what the holidays are really about. Having these quiet moments together where you can just take it slow and not worry about what’s coming next or where you need to be.

You’d just be putting the last of the dishes away when there’s an excited cry from the living room.

You’d poke your head in through the kitchen door to find Arthur, grinning triumphantly around his cigarette with the completed puzzle on the coffee table.

The picture it makes is of Gotham Central Park, specifically the front entrance.

You’d come over to Arthur and lean down to give him another kiss on the forehead.

“Good job babe, you did that so fast! How’d I get lucky enough to get someone who’s handsome and smart?”

Arthur would sit on the couch for a moment, eyes closed and basking in the praise like a cat in a sunbeam.

When he opens his eyes a few seconds later, he’d stub out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray and ask “Are we going right now?”

The way he says it is like a kid asking about Disney world, a little breathless and like he can’t quite bring himself to believe it.

That breaks your heart a little, in spite of the glow in the pit of your stomach.

It’s just a trip to the park. You’ve done it a million times or more with your family over the years, but once again this gives you a glimpse of the kind of life Arthur has had until you came along. Things haven’t been easy for him, and so he takes nothing good for granted, no matter how small.

You’d smile at Arthur and reach down to caress the side of his face with your hand

“Yeah, if you get ready in the next fifteen minutes we could probably make the 9:30 train”

Arthur would all but leap off the couch, grinning wide and with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Before you can react, he’s scooped you up into a massive bear hug that lifts your feet clean off the floor.

He’s squeezing you so tight it hurts a little, but you don’t mind. You squeeze back just as hard.

“Thank you so much for doing this” he’d murmur in your ear “I love you so much”

He’d punctuate that statement with a long, deep kiss where he almost leans you into a dip. He’d taste like smoke with a hint of maple syrup, which makes the warmth in your gut blossom and spread in a pleasant tingle across your body.

When the kiss breaks off you’re flushed, panting and unable to say anything more than a half mumbled “you’re welcome”

[cbsxreader]

Easter with Christian Brutal Sniper!

CBS x Reader

(I tried to write the most common traditions so sorry if things you do in Easter aren't here)

Like with most holidays, he'll celebrate Easter if you celebrate it. He's not a big fan of Easter, but you can convince him to get into the spirit.

If you are religious and go to church, Christian will come along, even if he knows he doesn't belong there.

He helps you decorate the house, though his decorations won't be as delicate as yours, he still agrees to do them. Just hide the chocolate eggs and rabbits from him, otherwise they'll be gone before Easter comes.

He's overall very competitive and if you decide to challenge yourselves in some sort of Easter themed race, he'll do anything to win and both boost his ego and impress you.

When you go swinging, Christian is the one pushing you, but you better hope you're not afraid of heights. If he's in a mischievious mood, he will push you harder and harder until you're the highest you can go.

"Christian, you're pushing too high!"

"Oh, come on, don't be a wuss!"

"AHH! CHRISTIAN, STOP!!"

"What's that, love? Can't hear you, you're so high up!"

Feel free to slap him afterwards, he'll still be smug though, he knows what he's done.

Christian says no to costumes, even if they're matching. But when you catch him taking a nap, you can sneak a picture of him with bunny ears on. Just make sure none of the other freaks or his friends see it, then he might lose it out of embarrassment.

He paints the eggs with either blood or his theme colours black and red like the edgelord he is. And he teases you if you paint them intricately or in cute, pastel colours.

As for the egg beating, Christian, again, wants to win, even if it's against you. He'll laugh when you lose, but will get offended when you win and "ruin his masterpieces".

Even if you don't want them, he will eat the eggs afterwards, no wasted food in your house. Not with Christian under the roof.

Sorry I died for 4 months, needed some time off of tumblr

[fleckcmscott]

Frills and Thrills

Summary: A typical night becomes anything but typical.

Words: 1,398

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: This piece was inspired by the below behind-the-scenes photo; the cinematography of One From the Heart (thanks, Lawrence Sher!); and this very 80s song. No, I am still not looking forward to the sequel - but I will take a hot Arthur Fleck anytime. 😎 Please enjoy! Special thanks to @sweet-nothings04 for her help and support! A very tardy Christmas piece is on the way!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

"That'll be $43.67."

Arthur counted out the bills in his wallet. Before transferring his three prescriptions to Groves Pharmacy - a brisk nine-minute walk from his Burnley address - he'd called for the beige and blue tablets' prices. With his lack of Gothamcare, he'd hoped they'd be cheaper than at Helms. "Disappointed but not surprised" was that night's journal entry.

He'd try the new insomnia pills first, get a fourteen-day supply of the other two whenever he could. See if a good night's sleep in the bed he was almost used to would encourage positive thoughts, lighten black moods to grey. After all, they'd improved since Y/N. Still there, still a teeter on the edge of an abyss. But with a guide rope in the shape of a woman's hand.

Leaving $2.41 in his pocket, he surrendered exact change. Took the white paper bag with blue lettering. Offered a quiet thanks and sidestepped from the pharmacist's counter.

Y/N waited in the cosmetics section, purse on her shoulder, a passive expression on her face. He recognized the creams on the top shelf, a flicker from when he'd shopped for Penny. The silhouette logo, the black label, the rounded corners of the jar. Anti-wrinkle Oil of Olay, then, when money was too tight, the knock-off poured into her Oil of Olay jar. His subtle subterfuge had gone undetected. Wrinkles continued to form in the usual fashion. He'd continued to save a quarter and make the swap.

As Y/N picked up a pink compact, Arthur slinked behind her to speak in her ear. "You're already pretty."

Giggling, she hung the rouge in its spot between concealer and cream foundation. "You make me blush enough already. Did you get what you needed?"

A crooked half-smile. "I think so." He entwined their fingers and started towards the exit, an attempt to halt any further questions that might lead to med and money talk.

Aisle three's endcap had an Easter display, a thousand plastic wrappers crying out for attention. Jolly Jack chocolate bunnies and Cadbury mini-eggs, pastel baskets and cellophane grass. The plush baby chicks were awfully cute, perfect the kids at the children's clinic. He'd jot a reminder to come back after the holiday, grab some plastic eggs and props at half price.

"My parents used to dress us up and take us to our grandparents for a picnic and Easter egg hunt," Y/N said, crouching to browse a set of die cut decorations. "Do you want to do anything for Easter?"

In spite of his mother watching a televised mass and sharing a bag of jellybeans, the day hadn't ever been personal. The Fleck household was anathema to miracles. Even with the miracle he was currently living, he had no desire to celebrate a victory he didn't believe in. "No. Why?"

"You've got a heavy eye on the Peeps - my little sister likes to put them in cocoa. And I thought you were Catholic. Or at least raised Catholic, with all the prayer candles and icons in your apartment."

The answer came firmer than intended. "Those were Penny's."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. You wouldn't have hung a Madonna over the bed. I bet you weren't responsible for that ugly cat candle, either."

Snorting, he rolled his eyes, recalling all he times he'd dusted his mother's knickknacks. The sculpted candles were the worst. They'd developed a weird film sticker than nicotine stains, and grime stuck in every crevice. On bad days he'd been tempted to throw them out. On good days he'd care for them, because Penny loved them so. Inklings of whimsy in a life of indifference.

The never indifferent woman at his side rose to walk with him. Grove's automatic doors opened and they spilled onto the busy sidewalk.

Two blocks up, a light sprinkling began, lent the pavement a velveteen sheen. With each step that sprinkling grew heavier. From a drizzle to a patter to an outright shower. Puddles formed beneath their feet, threatening shoe seams with leaks. Arthur crumpled his paper bag, shoved it in his tan jacket's pocket, and jerked his hood over his head.

The toe of Y/N's kitten heel skidded past a pool as she hopped to the right. "The weather report didn't mention rain!" she cried, ambles escalating to a jog.

A fierce gust sent sheets of water sideways, whipped the hem of her pleated skirt to flash her thighs. Arthur looped his arm through hers, pulled her into an alley to take refuge under the canary, corner awning of Mott's Spirits. Cigarette smoke drifted from the crowd gathered along the storefront. Her wrinkled nose kept him from lighting up himself.

She gathered the collar of her wool coat. "Well, I'd like us to do something small, if that's all right. It's been years since I've celebrated anything, really. I want to put all that behind me again, like last Christmas. Easter Parade's playing at the Majestic this week. I haven't seen it but the summary sounded like you. A song-and-dance romantic classic."

How could he argue with the sweetness of her reasoning? That he was the reason she wanted to celebrate? He gave a little nod. "I think Tuesdays are half price."

Just then, a bell rang out, crisp and clear despite the downpour. A bicycle messenger sped their way, a dozen plastic bags hanging from the ten-speed's handles. Arthur darted in front of Y/N, sought to protect her from the incoming splash. She yanked him tighter, out of the menace's path.

But it was no use. Muddled water pelted the back of his trousers, liquid ice soaked through white socks. He jolted to his tiptoes, teeth clenched against the stinging cold.

Y/N bent to survey the damage. A groan left her, which quickly became a laugh. "What an asshole," she said, then laughed all the harder. The warmth of it loosened his stance, and he found he had no choice but to join in. She settled back against the shop's window, stuck out her lower lip to blow a damp lock of hair from her forehead. The lock remained in place. "If only I'd had my umbrella."

Neon light from a Gotham Lottery sign spilled across her face. "Winners aren't born. They're made!" was the lotto's slogan, and Arthur had finally found a winning ticket. Orange accentuated the tawny flecks of her irises, rounded the curves of her cheeks. A perfect frame even an imagination as vivid as his couldn't improve.

A drop trickled down his scalp, skimmed the side of his neck, sneaked beneath his collar. He'd caught Easter Parade on television years ago. Studied Astaire's steps, how he'd slipped a diamond ring on the leading lady's finger. What would Y/N look like, Arthur wondered, in a lace bonnet, its ribbons tied under her chin? A hat he could loosen while they kissed, hold as a shield against prying eyes?

A couple of swells like them would make a beautiful pair, better than any Vanderbilt or Wayne.

When his thumb traced her jaw, her full lips parted, as if about to ask for a dance. Dark brows raised, her pupils dilated, full of unquenchable life. The affection in them, the openness. The caring curiosity and eager readiness to accept all of him made him tremble. Her love felt like rain on his skin, and for once he understood why someone might sing in it.

He leaned closer, until her breath brushed his lips. "Kiss me."

Her arms wound about him in an instant, a sudden, welcome pressure on his ribs. He cupped her face. Guiding, following, bracing. Their mouths a messy collision of desire and devotion and dreams. Her frame vibrated against his, the pulse under his fingertips beating to the rhythm of his heart.

At last, a wave of giggles broke them apart. Arthur pushed himself to stretch beyond his shy nature towards the forward, confident instinct he was learning to polish. His eyes flitted between hers, a demure smile adorning his cheeks. "I'd like to make love, if you wouldn't mind."

The blush he caused so easily crept across her face anew. "Last one home is on top," she said, and pressed the tip of her nose to his. "Give me a head start."

With that, Y/N held her purse horizontally above her head and sprinted into the deluge.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​​​​​ @ithinkimaperson​​​​​ @sweet-nothings04​​​​​ @stephieraptorr​​​​ @rommies​​​​​ @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​​​​​ @jokerownsmysoul​​​​​ @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics​​​​​ @iartsometimes​​​​​ @fleckficgirl

[sweetheartturtle2007]

Hi! I stumbled across your head cannons page and was wondering if you would be willing to write ☠️ and 💧 for Bunnymund from Rise of the Guardians?

For sure my dear 🤍 also I wrote female reader since you didn't said what gender you wanted 😅 so I hope it's ok

The sun was shining in the ceiling, giving the warren a beautiful lighting, making the flowers look all gorgeous in all their glory, the golems walking slowly, securing the warren, everything was quiet, the only sounds that could be heard were some birds who passed by, the lil chocolate eggs remain untouched and uncolored in a lil pile.

Suddenly one of them got out of the pile, and started running around, even do it didn't have eyes, it could still see everything around him. He searched for him, the one takes care of them, the one who paints them,the one...who's supposed to deliver them every spring...but he was nowhere to be found. The golems tried to make the lil guy go back to his slumber, at least until the one in charge came back but the tiny eggs didn't listen, he moved between the big rock golems and run into the hole that lead to the place where the "one in charge" sleeps. The deeper he went, the more he could hear some...cries...cries that weren't supposed to be there...in such a colorful and calming place as the warren. The lil guys stopped his running and slowly aproched the room.

There he was, the fuzzy and fluffy Easter bunny, he was the "one in charge", the one who was supposed to paint them and prepare them for every spring. But..he wasn't moving, he wasn't jumping around like he always did every single day, he was...still..not moving an inch, he was just sitting in his bed with his head down, looking into something in his hands.

The little eggs walked into the room, made a jump with the enough strength to make him fall onto the bunny's bed. He slowly aproched him, going by one of his sides, he passed by the bunny's arm and rested itself onto the bunny's lap. He was finally able to see the bunny's expression.

Tears. Tears submerged his red puffy eyes,the fur on his face was soaked in tears, there was no life in his face, no expressions no anything. The lil eggs turned his gaze into the bunny's hands, in them, there was a photo.

An elegant looking lady was in it, her beautiful features were perfectly illuminated by the sun in the photo, her smile was the most attractive thing in the photo. She was holding a basket full of his colored egg partners, behind her was a sing hanging by the trees that read "Easter's egg hunting".

Meanwhile, bunny was lost in his own thoughts, horrific thoughts, memories from that tragic event that happens just a week ago.

A week ago his life seemed like the happiest one, greatest news were thrown into him, those news make him feel alive, happy, lucky, with his partner by his side, everything was perfect. He loved his other half with all his heart, he promised her that he'll never let her go. He wanted to keep that promise at all cost.

Everything was going so well, they were throwing a party to celebrate the big news, all his friends were there, everyone was having fun, but then... everything went down.

In one moment he was holding his wife, looking into hey beautiful eyes, her bright beautiful smile and then at the next one, he was looking for her through the smoke maze that was covering his view, pitch attacked the party along with his shadows, everything was chaos, the decorations were torn apart, the tables were destroyed or upside down, the food was all over the floor. His friends were fighting against pitch. He didn't care about him, he wanted to find his wife, put her in safety and then he'll fight, but his family was first.

Then he spotted her, she was dragging herself through the floor behind pitch, he started running towards her, he saw her get up with difficulty and took one of her arrows and prepared herself to release the shot towards pitch. What she didn't know was that pitch already know about her presence behind him.

"Nice try lil birdie, but I'm the only one winning here today!"

suddenly a shadow stuck in her back making her scream in pain, bunny tried to reach her breaking past the other shadows.

Once he was able to get closer, he dropped to the floor and took her in his arms, the nightmare sand was covering her body, bunny was panicking, he didn't know what to do.

"Darling! Hang in there, I'm gonna help you I promise!" His vision was getting blocked by the tears in his eyes.

"¡bunny!, ¡Take her and go with north! We'll take care of these shadows!" Jack said.

Bunny run to North's sled, he was in it in seconds, north took the rails and started flying away from the scene.

"You're gonna be okay darling! Just hang in there"

He was holding her hand as HIS own life was in danger, the black sand keep covering her body, bunny wanted to stop it but he wasn't able to.

In that moment his wife took his face in her hands and kissed his tears away.

"I'm so sorry....I wasn't able to protect you... " He said between hiccups....his hearts was breaking into million pieces, ¡This wasn't supposed to happen!

"it's okay bunny, don't worry...you'll always be my hero..."

And just like that, those were the last words his wife said before the black sand cover her full...making disappear.

...

In the present, the lil eggs felt something feel upon him, he turned his gaze to bunny, who's tears were already coming back to submerge his eyes in full sadness.

He held the picture of his wife tightly against his face, crying disconsolately.

The egg wasn't able to do anything more for him...he just turned his gaze to the front.

There was a beautifully decorated baby crib, with plushies and beautiful paintings. Those were the big news they were celebrating that tragic day,those were the plans that he had with her...his wife was pregnant.

He just didn't loose the most important person in his life...he also loose the new one that was coming.

OOOOO HELLO WORLD, SORRY I'VE BEEN GONE FOR SO LONG, I MISSED YOU ALL, FEEL FREE TO SEND REQUEST IF YOU WANT (please read rules.)

[jo-harrington]

Rise of the Guardians

I can only imagine this is a request for Hymns and not just…asking what I think of the movie? (Because I love it. Jack Frost and Periwinkle from Secret of the Wings was a fluffy ship I had for a short bit.) I hope you enjoy this little blurb. It's a little...angsty.

(Literally poor timing as today is Halloween and this is set in December but idgaf.)

TW: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Eddie and Reader/OC have a little fight and then reconcile, but with a supernatural element involved.

Find Hymns of Heaven here.

And find the Master List for As Above, So Below here.

December 1984

Your night-in wasn’t supposed to be like this.

But that's what he always thought when the two of you fought. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not with you.

And inevitably...it wasn't.

A little verbal tousle never led to anything disastrous or relationship-ending. It was just...him. His abandonment issues. His need to be...needed.

The night started pretty normally. December, talks of Christmas, a last-minute visit to K-Mart before it closed to get hot cocoa (and fuck around in the toy aisle because you both were still kids inside after all), and then you regaling Eddie with the origins of Santa Claus as he flipped through your shoebox full of cassettes for something decent to listen to.

"...the story of Saint Nicholas of Myra is cool, but I always liked the legend of the Guardians better."

"Guardians?" Eddie asked, only semi-present as he stared at the faded track listing on one tape to see just what it was.

"I read it in a book once," you explained. "The Guardians of Childhood. They're meant to protect children."

You went on and on and explained each of the Guardians, who they were and what they did. Wonder and memories and special surprises made with magic and happiness. Your hands gestured wildly as you spoke and it was easy to see the sparkle in your eyes as the street lights illuminated your face every so often.

But the longer you went and the more Eddie heard, the worse he felt.

The Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus.

He'd been hearing about them for most of his childhood. All of it. Heard about them, though. Never experienced.

He'd always felt...slighted.

Now, as an adult...hell...even back in his childhood he knew. Knew that those things weren't real.

When he lost a tooth growing up, his mom would pull together a handful of change from the tip jar at Benny's for the Tooth Fairy to leave him. He could hear her count the coins as he laid awake in bed, hoping to catch the elusive sprite that first night. He always said he lost the teeth from that point on, not wanting to be burdensome.

His family didn't celebrate Easter. He'd heard all of the "he is risen" crap from church-going classmates growing up. He always questioned how it tied in with rabbits and eggs and chocolate, with no definitive response. At best, he and Wayne indulged in Cadbury Eggs as a special treat every year, with a few stashed away at the back of the freezer whenever the mood struck. But the meaning of the holiday was lost on him.

And his dad had pretty much dashed all illusion of Santa Claus immediately when he was younger. He couldn't remember a time when there had been any extra gifts under their mediocre tree.

"Isn't it amazing?" you asked by the time you were climbing the steps and entering the trailer. “Like…ok…admittedly I kind of think kids are the worst but…Guardians protecting the innocence of children. It deserves to be protected.”

“Does it?” He asked flippantly as you went on about how fun it would be to go to the North Pole one day and see if Santa’s workshop was real. “Do they?”

“And he—w-what?” You furrowed your brow as you dropped the bag of cocoa and marshmallows on the counter in the kitchen.

“I don’t know about you,” he laughed dryly as he fell onto the couch. “But there was no one magical and fantastical protecting me. There was my mom, then Wayne and Rick, and now…now I look out for myself.”

“Eddie…I…” you looked like a deer in the headlights. At a loss for words.

He knew you didn’t mean any harm with your story, but he couldn’t help but bicker and bitch and yell. And when he finally turned his frustration onto you instead of his situation, your expression got darker. Because you weren’t going to stand there and take this misplaced anger.

And that’s all it was right? Bickering and picking and mourning the loss of a childhood and a loss of innocence in both of you. You had more in common than you had differences—

Shitty, absent parents whose only priorities were themselves.

A guardian who sacrificed everything for you, to their own detriment.

The obvious fact that you were different from everyone else and there was nothing you could do to change that.

The idea that you were the only ones in the world who could understand each others plight.

—it’s just when you got to feel bad for yourselves that it all turned to shit. Unable to see what the other saw because you couldn’t see past yourselves.

So, back and forth you both went. Deeper and deeper. You didn’t understand. No he didn’t understand.

“I would think,” you scoffed, tears streaming down your cheeks. “That you, out of everyone, would feel some kind of…kinship with this. I didn’t say it to make you feel bad Eddie. You protect all of those kids. Your friends. Me. Instead—”

“You’ve made it very clear, the only person you need to protect is yourself. You only care about yourself. Otherwise why…why would you keep all of these secrets from me?”

You choked a sob. It shook your entire body.

And suddenly he didn’t see red anymore.

He saw…you, his girlfriend, who knew how much he enjoyed magic and fantasy and whimsy as an escape. You, who enjoyed all manner of monsters and cryptids and tall tales as a way to connect with the world around you that, most times, didn’t want to connect back.

You, who didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his bullshit.

After Eddie’s dad got sent away, his mom had a better head on her shoulders when it came to arguments. To protect herself, protect him. She always chose to walk away from a fight with Rick when one of them got mean. And taught Eddie to do the same.

“You’re gonna hear people say, don’t go to bed angry,” she told him once, as she tucked him into bed after a verbal tousle. He’d asked if they were ever gonna see Rick again. “But that just encourages people to fight more until it’s over. You want to go to bed. Because the Sandman will bring good dreams and help you realize how silly it all was in the first place.”

And that was the philosophy you both had agreed to after your first fight, over Mountain Dew of all things.

So he knew, now, once you controlled your tears, controlled your breathing, that was what you were planning to do. And he couldn’t object. Keys in hand, coat shrugged back on so you could trek out to your car. No goodbye. Because sleep would make it all better.

It had to.

He’d just sat down with his head, full of regrets, in his hands when you knocked on the door, needing to get back in.

“Car won’t start,” you whispered, unable to look him in the eye.

“I can take a look in the morning,” he offered weakly. “You can have my room. I’ll sleep on Wayne’s bed, not like he’s here to mind.”

The two of you went through the motions, calming yourselves down but still not ready for a kiss goodnight.

Eddie fell asleep with the sound of your soft sobs echoing in his ears, whether they were real or imagined.

It was Pitch Black and his thoughts swirled around him.

Literally.

They took the form of spectral creatures, smoky and abyss-like phantasms that grabbed and pinched at his skin.

He was tied down on the ground, held by each of his limbs, by his throat. He choked on his apologies.

“Please please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you the way I did.”

They bit and pulled and tore at pieces of him. Filled his mind with dark thoughts. Images of you crying, screaming, burning in fire.

“Please no. Forgive me. I fucked up. I fucked up.”

And then…

They stopped.

He was released in a puff of smoke, the inky, insidious tendrils evaporated and he was left to lay…on a glowing golden cloud.

Eddie looked around and saw…in the distant darkness…another cloud lazily approached. And on it there was a rotund little man with glowing skin and a beatific smile. His eyes crinkled as he got close enough to Eddie where their two clouds merged to become one.

“Who…are you?” Eddie asked dumbly. “Is…”

The man grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

“Is she ok?” He felt relieved when the man nodded sympathetically. “Where are we?”

The man’s eyes closed and the void they were in brightened to reveal…

Unicorns and sword-wielding elves and a palace spire that reached the sky. A stage with a crowd of roaring fans, a large gaming table with a group of eager participants, a comfy sofa and a coffee table with a bowl of popcorn and two steaming mugs of cocoa resting atop it.

All made of golden dust.

“Dreams,” he muttered. “My dreams.”

One of the man’s hands landed on Eddie’s shoulder and the other over his heart. He pressed down carefully and raised a brow in question.

“I do love her,” he whispered to the man, easily able to understand despite the silence. The man patted his hand twice. “And I know. She loves me too.”

The man’s brow became stern and his fist clenched then knocked on Eddie’s chest again. Eddie frowned, and then the man huffed a sigh. Above his head gold dust swirled and suddenly…there you were. A tiny version of you with a sword in one hand and shield in the other. You slashed and hacked as the gold dust turned black and attacked you.

“She’s…” He nodded. “She’s protecting me.”

The man smiled and nodded, the little dust mirage disappeared.

His hands then went and cupped Eddie’s face. He leaned in close and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s forehead.

For the briefest second, Eddie felt the most serene than he had felt in his entire life.

And then it all disappeared.

He woke with a start, tears dripping down his face.

It was dawn, the living room glowed with the rising sun, and you were there. Puffy-eyed and somber, with your hands on his cheeks.

“Hey it’s ok,” you told him. “It was just a nightmare.”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “It’s…it was…it was a dream.”

“Yeah?” You quirked a smile at him. Before you could make a joke, he was upright, engulfing you in a tight hug. “You, uh…sure it wasn’t a nightmare?”

“I’m sure,” he spoke, words muffled in your neck as he willed himself to become one with you. To no avail, of course. Your hand ran over his back, through his hair and you let him have the time he needed.

“Did you know…” he finally spoke. “Did you know that the Sandman is a Guardian?”

You got stiff for a moment, body immediately on the defensive, but as he pulled away to look at you with—he hoped—an apologetic gaze, you relaxed.

“Oh yeah?”

It wasn’t an apology. He could get to that later. But it was enough of one for now, one that you were willing to accept.

“He is the Guardian of Dreams. And he…he doesn’t talk. Did you know that?”

“Well obviously he doesn’t want to wake anyone up,” you gave him a small nod and a smile.

Eddie thought about it for a moment.

“…that actually makes sense.” He pressed his lips to yours for briefly. “I was so…occupied with what I didn’t have that I forgot what it was that I did.”

“Your dreams?”

“Yeah.”

He’d always been a dreamer. Always thought of fantastical far away lands and the most epic future. Filled with adventure and laughter. Friends and fans.

But there was one dream that was his reality, and he would never forget it again.

“And you.”

[delopsia]

Thinking about Rhett and his Easter shenanigans...

It all started with Amy.

Easter celebrations ended the year Rhett turned ten, suddenly deemed to be too old to be enjoying the holiday as children do. Beloved Easter egg hunts and egg dying faded away into nothing but days of sitting in uncomfortable wooden pews and listening to the dronings of a preacher he forgot the name of. He forgets what it's like to wake up and run down to the kitchen in hopes that the Easter Bunny has paid him a visit.

Instead, he only associates Easter with one thing. Sneaking out with his father and Perry to buy Easter candy from the local Dollar General. His momma is a firm believer that such treats need to be earned; how are you meant to raise hard-working sons when you spoil them with sweet treats that they didn’t earn? But Royal’s got a wicked sweet tooth, and both of his sons have inherited it. While Cecelia is busy with her bible studies, her husband and two sons are buying candy and stashing it beneath their beds. Rhett always gets the bright pink Peeps, Perry yellow, and Royal blue. Jellybeans are too hard to hide, but cartons of chocolate-covered marshmallow eggs fit just fine.

Rhett's fifteen when Amy is born. Too little to really partake in Easter for the first two years, but on the third, the festivities come back in full force. Everyone has to sit down and paint at least six eggs each, then hide them around the house for Amy to find. It ends in tears, not because of anything necessarily going wrong, but because Amy’s upset that they couldn’t do it outside. The next year ends the same way because this time, it was outside, but the hunt was too easy for her.

The next year, Rhett’s hatched himself a plan. Armed with all the eggs Cecelia could find, both plastic and real, Rhett stays home from church and stashes those brightly colored eggs everywhere he can find. In the stable, behind saddle bags, and beneath shelves, in corners of the fences, and up in trees that Perry will inevitably have to climb up and get. A true hunt that puts Amy and her adventurous little heart down to work. He’s hidden fifty eggs, and Amy finds forty-nine.

When Perry’s head hits his pillow that night, he finds the fiftieth.

What problem they don’t predict is how out of hand Easter is about to get. Only becomes obvious when little Amy chatters her momma’s ear off about the hunt Uncle Rhett made for her and how she hopes it's harder this year. Royal’s not happy about his youngest being taken out of work just to hide a bunch of eggs, but Cecelia will let nothing come between giving her grandbaby the Easter she deserves. While Perry sweats up a storm and Royal curses the Spring heat, Rhett’s giggling to himself as he hides eggs in the most inconvenient of places.

It's a tradition that only grows in intensity because as the years pass, Rhett gets better at hiding them, and Amy gets better at finding them. But it doesn't stop there; no, she gets bored of the plainly colored eggs she's been dying with Grandma. She wants carefully painted eggs with patterns that take hours to complete.

You meet Rhett for the first time on Easter Sunday. Only there to visit a friend and attend the Easter brunch the local church is hosting, but instead, you find yourself fondly watching the sight in front of you. A messy-haired cowboy sitting in the back of his pickup, covered in splotches of vividly colored paint, as he and his niece paint her Easter eggs. Sweat beads at his pale forehead, exposed to the elements because he offered his beloved hat to Amy, more concerned about her than himself.

"I uh...hi?" He stammers around the paintbrush held in his mouth; the sun is blistering, but you don't think the red in his ears is from the sun.

Amy pokes her head up, a too-big cowboy hat falling into her face as she offers you a plain-white egg, "do you want to paint one?"

You think that watching Amy hunt for her Easter eggs is a one-time deal. That this is the only time you'll watch this stuttering mess of a man offer you one of the jellybeans that Amy's just stuffed into his shirt pocket.

Until the next year rolls around, and you're finding a bent Easter basket on your kitchen table, stuffed full of overly-sweet treats and topped off with a plushie of a cow wearing bunny ears. You haven't the slightest clue when or how Rhett snuck this in without you hearing it.

There's a plastic easter egg shoved in your toothbrush holder, a little note, and a candy hidden inside of it. 'Good morning, I love you! :)'

It's not the only one. There are four in your car and one in your purse; they're outside, hidden in your plants and in the crevices of the windows, beneath the sink, and balanced on top of door frames. Your living room is covered. No matter where you look, there are eggs filled with pieces of candy and shakily written notes.

"You must think you're real cute, huh?" Shaking the bag of collected eggs as you walk down the dusty Abbott driveway.

And Rhett just smiles, looking down at his feet as he shoves his thumbs into his pockets, "jus' a lil' bit."

After dinner, you find an entire bag of jelly beans shoved into your purse. The same bag Cecelia buys Amy every year because she thinks it's her favorite because it's the first thing that's gone every time. The same bag that Amy shuffles off to Rhett because she doesn't like them. Rhett doesn't even care for them, but he eats them anyway.

Like it did with Amy, the festivities only grow worse. You try to catch him in the act every year, but without fail, you wake up every Easter Sunday to a bunch of eggs sprawled about in the strangest of places. A lot of them are found, but when you're packing up to move into a place together, you find two dozen. Candy suspiciously dated but coupled with notes whose meanings never waver.

He gets an egg stuck behind the dresser one year; it's still there because you can't reach it, and the dresser is too hard to move. Living under the same roof as him is even worse because now he's even more familiar with the layout and all of the hiding spots that come with it. His carefully painted eggs all revolve around you; your favorite flower, your initials, your favorite color, and pattern. So intricately painted that it hurts you when it comes time to crack and put them to use before they go bad.

Amy's hunts never cease, going beyond the age of ten, because those Abbott rules never apply to Cecelia's beloved grandchildren. Every year it's the same, and every year you find yourself rolling your eyes as Amy finds the eggs in the most ridiculous of places. So far, your favorite has been the eggs found in the gutter, placed there exclusively to piss off Royal.

You know all of his hiding places now; after spending so much time with Rhett, it's become easy to figure him out. He goes for the crevices, his favorite being the places up-high and out of reach, and the eggs tend to match the place they're in. Never out in the open. Never visible at first glance.

That's why you're so confused when you get in bed and find an egg sitting there. Innocent, bright, and definitely wasn't there when you made the bed this morning. No, you would have noticed it.

When you pop it open, you find that the usual note is wrapped around the band of a dainty little ring. And in the shakiest handwriting, you've ever seen, it reads four little words that you could never have expected.

'Will you marry me? :)'

From the doorway, Rhett just giggles, as bashful as the day you met him, red ears, paint on his face and all.

You marry him that next Easter, not an egg in sight when you say your vows or when you lock lips for the first time as a newly wedded couple. Throughout the entire ceremony, you only find one egg. It's on top of the cake, and it's only there at your request. Suspicious.

"No eggs at all?" You find yourself chirping on your slow walk to the car. A cautious hand braces around your waist, ready to catch you if your tired, achy legs go out from beneath you. These shoes were pretty, but a hell of a mistake.

Rhett clears his throat, eyes darting toward the car. "No eggs yet."

It takes you three days to find the unholy stash of plastic eggs in the backseat.