#I need to SCREAM about this don't mind me!!!

[everythingspokenfor]

Casually thinking about older!Bakugou . As usual, all characters are aged up 18+. MDNI.

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Older!Bakugou who is still in his early 30s, being pestered by his mother to at least get a girlfriend (and eventually settle down). She is afraid she'll never be able to meet her grandkids if this continues.

Older!Bakugou who has attended weddings of his friends, co-workers and even few of the people he had rescued. Although, had no intention of settling down anytime soon, wanting to focus on hero work because it gave him a drive, something to look forward too.

Older!Bakugou who was never really interested in any women that threw themselves at him, always keeping to himself, mellowed out with age. His friends no longer setting him up on blind dates because it was all in vain.

Older!Bakugou who hires a new support tech, because he was impressed by the work. Who meets the newbie in the hallway of the building, screaming at a rookie prohero.

"this is my resume", you shoved an open file into the rookie's face,"on page 12 it list all the things I was hired for", you pause pulling the folder, skimming through the pages to open page 12, he assumes. "Here, now read carefully, does it say 'write reports for rookies because they are apparently incapable of writing it' huh?", you slam the folder shut on the table. " Don't ever expect to do your work, rookie."

You turned around and left the hallway, not really noticing that you almost ran into Pro-hero: Dynamight.

Older!Bakugou who observes you working around the lab, fierce support tech that minds her business and prefers talking to her projects over actual people. Diligent with her work, getting her job done.

Older!Bakugou who enters the lab one day because his gauntlet need to repaired.

"they are too chunky." You don't really have a filter, already working on dismantling the whole thing, not sparing Bakugou a glance.

"You should focus on your work, kid." He was already staring at you.

"What do you think I am doing, Dynamight? This chunk isn't going to fix itself."

He is glad that your words remains same, irrespective of who you are talking to. Always stating the obvious.

"watch it, kid." He walked out of the lab.

Older!Bakugou who is surprised when the new tech remodels his gauntlets but also repairs the old ones, showing him the perks of new ones while still repairing the old ones just in case he doesn't like the new ones.

Older!Bakugou who, at 32, finds himself horrified by the idea that he might be interested, in someone, someone who is younger than him. You are 24, barely am adult in his eyes. You are smart, snarky and considerate.

You explain things to people, help around the lab, yet you are still sharp can take a joke, can make a joke.

Older!Bakugou that is nervous, prospect of asking out a girl making him sweat. He stands at the entrance of your lab, clear door doing nothing to hide his hulking frame, you are still working on something, hunched over a table with a chunky metal in hand.

"you know, I can see you, right?"

He lets out a breath, a small smile breaking onto his face, he moves into the lab. You notice he is wearing casual clothes, sweatpants and a t-shirt, carrying take-out boxes in his hand.

"I was getting dinner, thought I'd get you some too." He is already setting up on the 'not work table' in the room, already aware of what would happen if he put food on your 'work table'.

"What did you do, boss?" You voiced suspiciously, already moving to wash your hands.

"Can't even get people dinner in this economy"

"People", faux disbelief evident in your voice,"I wouldn't call me people, boss" you pulled the chair out and sat in front of him.

"Why not, tech?" He teased, handing you pair of chopsticks.

You look at him with mischief in your eyes, you lean over and play your hand around you mouth, almost as if sharing a secret,"Because you don't practice asking 'people' out, Suki."

His eyes widened,"You heard that? I thought the glass door was fucking sound proof." He let out a sigh, hours of practising and he doesn't even get a chance to say it.

"They are soundproof. From the inside tho." You looked over to him, before placing your hand over his," And I'll go on that date, also we should totally check the sound proofing of the lab tonight."

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

[damnibreathealot]

hi hiiii I love your writing, can't believe you just started🥹

I'm feeling a bit in a rut, was wondering if maybe you can write simon sucking tits in an attempt to cheer us up?

simon 'ghost' riley sucking on your tits in an attempt to cheer you up after an argument!

✎ | nipple play and cunnilingus! shitty proofread.

✎ | ooo, yall are freaky!! mhm, i like it, and also, i hope you don't mind me adding the argument + cunnilingus bit! ALSO YAPPED SO HARD, AND THIS IS KINDA SHITTTTT!!!

merry christmas/happy christmas eve!!

you and simon had an argument about an hour ago. it was some petty argument about simon not taking out the rubbish like you told him to before you went to work. just coming home and seeing him not doing the shit he was told to after a stressful day at work just ticked you off.

now, he was stuck with the silent treatment. he always manages a way to cheer you up after an argument, and depending on how serious the argument is, it would end with him getting you a gift and showering you with kisses or sex.

today, he decided to go with sex. he walked into your room, the way you were laying on your shared bed with a pissed look on your face, just scrolling through your phone, told him everything he needed to know.

you didn't even acknowledge that he came into the room, nothing but a slight squint of your eye and the neutral expression on your face dropping to a slight frown.

he plopped down next to you on the bed and wraps his arms around you waist. you didn't even pay attention to him, even after that. just still scrolling through your phone, texting your friends here and there, still not taking notice to him. like he's a ghost.

(hehe! get it? because his nickname is ghost and he... no? ok...)

that's when he decides to take action, pressing kisses against your neck and leave hickeys in his wake. his gaze follows back up to your face. you still haven't budged? that's alright. he'll break you soon.

he pushes up your shirt and notices how your hard expression falters a bit. he grins and stares at your tits. he presses firm kisses against your breasts, paying close attention to how your your eyes flutter slightly when his tongue rolls over your nipple.

he quite literally worships your tits. just enough to see you break. hickeys all over them, his lips wrapping around you nipple while using his finger to tease the other one with his finger. he sucks your tits sore. this is watch breaks you. he finally makes you break when he hears you softly mutter out his name.

he decides to tease you, his hand trailing doing to the waistband of your pyjama shorts. just tracing his fingers teasingly around your pelvis. he chuckles at your frustrated sigh,

"don't be a fucking bastard simon. you know what i want."

"no, quite frankly, i dont. have to tell me first."

"make your wife beg when she's pissed off at you??

"ya make good point." he shrugs. he can't deny that. he slips his hand underneath your shorts. he groaned when his hand came in contact with your soaked pussy. his finger thumbs at your clit, rubbing the poor nub. his other fingers slip down and sink into your tight hole. a shakey breath leaves his lips when your pussy deliciously claps around his fingers.

he knows you want this. been so stressed out lately. you don't even want it. you fucking need it.

he takes his hand out of shorts just when you're about to cum. you give him a sharp glare, and you were about to give him snarky comment, but you quickly close your mouth once you notice him shifting his position. he tugs down your shorts and knickers.

he doesn't hesitate to press his tongue flat against your swollen nub before swirling all around. the way it throbs against his tongue has him fucking hooked. his fingers return back into your pussy, nice and slow. he finger-fucks you. his fingers curl just into the right spot in your gummy walls. the place to make your toes curl and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

he keeps going until you're screaming his name, and your juices flood against his fingers and on his tongue. he fucks you through your orgasm and then pulls his fingers out of you – looking you in the eye as he licks his fingers clean.

"forgive me now?"

you glare at him – once again, "fuck off."

[ripdragonbeans]

Winter Activities // modern!Aegon x Reader

Summary: You and Aegon try to come up with ideas to do that are Winter themed but then something else comes to your mind instead.

Warnings: little head injury, smut

“Aegon, you asshole!” You screamed. 

A snowball hit you square in the face and Aegon was by himself with laughter. The snow was high enough that it covered your ankles. Walking and running in the snow proved to be a challenge in itself. Awkwardly moving in the snow, you did your best to get away from Aegon, only to face plant in the snow.

Aegon resumed his laughter. “You okay?” He asked when he caught his breath.

Instead of saying anything you held a thumbs up. You were still face first in the snow and mumbled something about being comfortable in the freezing weather.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Aegon said as he made his way to you.

Finally, you rolled over so you were on your back, still refusing to get up. As you sank into the snow you said, “Excuse you, I’m perfectly fine laying in the freezing snow after being hit in the face with a snowball, thank you very much.”

“If I join you will that make everything better?”

You pouted as you nodded your head. Aegon fell back unceremoniously onto the snowy ground and stared up at the sky.

“This better?” He asked.

You rolled over to envelop him in a hug on the ground. “Better.”

It was a sweet moment, the two of you holding each other in the snow. That is until Aegon snuck his hand around you with the excuse of wanting to hold you closer. He gathered a fist full of snow in his hand and smacked the back of your head before getting up and running away. 

“Aegon, you asshole!” You called after him. You struggled to get up, slipping on the snow and not finding very good footing. Once you gained your balance you sprinted after your chaotic boyfriend.

“Not my fault you're not good at snowball fights, bunny,” Aegon said as he made you two hot chocolate.

You were nursing a bump on your head. It appeared a bit after you came inside. You figured it was from the snowball fight and immediately accused Aegon. 

“That doesn't mean I should get a fucking concussion,” you countered.

“It's not a concussion, it's just a little bump.” Aegon plopped himself next to you on the couch. “Now, drink your hot chocolate before I drink it up.”

“Heathen.”

“Yes, but I'm your heathen.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Taking a sip of your hot drink, you relaxed a bit. You weren't mad at Aegon, you were just giving him a hard time because you knew he'd push back. It was your thing. You'd push each other's buttons and then make up. It was part of the fun of your relationship.

“What should we do next?” You asked as you put down your mug.

Aegon shrugged. “I don't know? There's a cookie set in the cabinet that we haven't used yet.”

That got you excited. Your eyes lit up as you smiled. “I forgot about those! Yes, let's decorate cookies!” You rushed to get up and almost knocked your hot chocolate over but Aegon was there to save it.

“Careful, bunny,” he laughed. He pulled you into his lap by your waist once he moved the mug out of the way. “You're very adorable when you get excited, you know that?” He nuzzled into your neck.

You giggled. “Maybe.” Pressing a soft kiss against his forehead you slowly started moving your hips.

Aegon groaned. “What happened to the cookies?”

“Well, since you put me on your lap I thought of a different idea.” 

You could feel him getting hard through his pants. Aegon’s hands went from your waist to your ass. After giving you a quick squeeze, he captured your lips in a heated kiss.

It wasn't a soft kiss, it was a kiss full of passion and impatience. You began to grind against him even more as you ran a hand up under his shirt. You needed the skin to skin feeling. 

Aegon pulled at your lip gently. “Do you want something?” He teased.

“I want your clothes off,” you murmured against him.

“And I want yours off, too.” Aegon slipped his hand underneath your shirt and cupped your breasts.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

“What?” Aegon ran a thumb over your nipple. He reached around and unclasped your bra and let it fall. “Oops.”

Pulling Aegon back into a searing kiss, you tore his shirt over his head and soon did the same to yours. You pressed your bodies against each other, basking in the warmth.

Aegon slipped his hands beneath the waistband of your pants and tugged them down. Smiling, you got off his lap and finished the job. Clad in only your panties, you turned around to give him a whole view of yourself. Aegon quickly followed and discarded his pants and underwear, leaving him completely bare. You couldn't help but stare at his hard member.

“See something you like?” He taunted.

You gently pushed him back into the couch and kneeled before him. “You know what I like.”

Aegon gripped your chin in his hands. “Then take it.”

So you did.

Spitting in your hand, you gripped Aegon's cock and began to work it up and down. His eyes never left you but you could tell he was getting worked up. Leaning forward, you darted your tongue out to lick just the tip. Aegon couldn't help the groan that came out of his mouth or the pump of his hips into the air.

Smiling deviously, you slowly took as much of him in your mouth as you could. You still had to use a hand to work all of him. You looked up and gave him a wink before bobbing your head up and down. With each thrust you'd take more and more of him until he was hitting the back of your throat. Aegon’s hands went to your hair and he held you down. You bobbed your head just a little more and then hummed around his cock.

“Fuck!” Aegon released your head but soon began meeting you with his thrusts.

You were sure he was going to finish in your mouth but he pulled you off of him and into another searing kiss.

“When I come, it's going to be in that tight pussy, bunny, not in your mouth,” he said against you. “But first.”

Aegon kissed his way down your body, making sure to stop at your tits and to suck on a nipple before switching to the other one. He knew you loved nipple play and it never failed to make you wet. You could feel yourself getting more and more wet the longer he played with you. While his mouth would work on, his hand would go to the other to pinch and play.

You tried sitting in his lap again but Aegon pushed you out to the couch and spread your legs. You were bare for him. 

“Fuck, you're wet,” he said as he stared at you. 

Tentatively, he prodded one finger at your folds. You mewled and lifted your hips up for more. You thought he would push you down but he did just the opposite. He pulled you closer to him and descended on your pussy. 

His mouth was magic. He ate you out like a man starved. You couldn't help your moans of pleasure as he devoured you. When he focused on your clit he stuck two fingers in, making you scream in surprise and pleasure. He made sure his pumping matched his licks and it had you seeing stars. He latched into your clit and hummed, sending vibrations all throughout your body.

“Fuck, fuck fuck!” You called out as you began nearing your peak.

“That's right, bunny,” Aegon praised you. “Come for me.”

Those words sent you into straight bliss. Pleasure darkened your vision until you could focus on nothing but the feeling Aegon was causing you.

Slowly, Aegon came to a stop and pulled his fingers out of your entrance but carefully placed them in your mouth. 

“Suck.” He ordered.

Looking at him with big eyes, you did as he commanded and tasted yourself on his fingers.

“What a good girl,” he cooed as he removed his fingers and replaced them with his own lips. 

Again, you tasted yourself on him and you loved it.

“We're going to do something special, bunny. Trust me and get on all fours.”

You nodded your head and did as he said, still in bliss from your orgasm. Aegon slapped your ass as soon as it was in the air but quickly soothed it with a kiss. He spread your cheeks open and groaned. 

“Gods, you're gorgeous like this,” he said before he licked your puckered hole.

You whimpered as his tongue ran over it.

“I won't use this hole. At least not yet, bunny,” he told you. “What I will use, though, is this wet pussy.”

Aegon took the base of his cock to guide it over your folds. You shivered at the feeling. He was teasing you. He would circle your entrance and almost enter you but would let his cock slide up and over.

It wasn't until you complained and shook your ass that he grabbed his cock and thrust into you.

It wasn't sweet, it wasn't gentle, it was hard and fast; just how you like it.

Being fucked from behind had him going deeper than ever before and you loved it. Aegon was hitting all these spots you never knew existed and you were obsessed. 

His hand came around your chest to play with your tits, which wound you up even more. Pleasure built within you as you met each thrust.

“Aegon, please,” you whined.

“Please, what, bunny?”

“Please let me come.”

Aegon thrust harder and harder, making you scream out. Your legs were going weak, the pleasure was becoming too much. Aegon grabbed your hair and pulled you up so your back was flush against him.

“Come for me.”

With a cry of pleasure you let yourself go. Aegon continued to fuck you through your orgasm, chasing his own. He pushed you back down on all fours as he grabbed your hips and rutted into you.

“Fuck, bunny, I'm gonna -”

Aegon spilled his seed inside you, filling you up. Even as he finished up, he slowly kept thrusting into you, making you mewl.

After a while, he finally stilled and collapsed on top of you. Breathing hard, you moved your hand so you could run it through his hair, even at an awkward angle.

“Gods, that was -”

“- Holy fuck, bunny.”

You laughed. “Yeah.”

“Ugh, I don't want to move.”

“As much as I love having you on top of me, you're beginning to crush my lungs.”

Aegon groaned as he rolled over next to you. He pulled you in and held you tight. “Okay, time to sleep, bunny,” he yawned.

“You're not… you're not going to clean me up? Or move us to the bedroom?”

“Fuck, we're still on the couch.”

“And we have chocolate that's probably cold.”

“FUCK!”

And with that, Aegon jumped off of you to grab the hot chocolate mugs and rush them to the microwave, naked and all.

[youngirlfrom]

MY ONLY DAUGHTER

| The true heir to the Iron Throne looked at the newborn baby in her arms with pure love in her eyes, "My only daughter, my sweet little girl. I will not let anyone touch even a hair of your hair. No one will dare to hurt you. I will ensure that their laughter spreads throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Your mother will be with you until her last breath, my beautiful Daena." said.

Although the laughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen's only daughter, Daena, spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms, no one heard them as much as her cries of pain.

| the first chapters will be about the childhood of Daena and the others. |

chapter 1 | Queen's Delight

"I hope it's a girl," little Daena said as she gently caressed her mother's belly. There was a childish innocence in her eyes and a confident smile on her lips. "I don't want any more brothers. Boys are too loud and rude."

Rhaenyra laughed loudly at her daughter's words, her voice filling the warm atmosphere of the room. She reached out and caressed Daena's soft cheek. "If it's a girl, would you like to name her?" she asked.

Daena's eyes suddenly sparkled with excitement. She was practically jumping on the spot, and with her little hands clenched into fists, she let out a little scream of victory. "Yes, yes! I'd love to!" she shouted. "I want her name to be Daenys. It's almost the same as mine! That means she'll be different from me, but she'll also be mine."

Rhaenyra admired her daughter's logical yet childish way of thinking. "You'll be a wonderful big sister, Daena," she said tenderly, her hands running through her daughter's hair. Daena's hair was another subject of admiration for her. While her brothers Lucerys and Jacaerys had completely black hair, Daena's was a masterpiece with silver strands dancing in the black. And that single, bright wisp of Targaryen yellow… to Rhaenyra, it was a symbol of her daughter's unique heritage.

“But,” Daena said, suddenly serious, her brows turning into a thoughtful expression. "If it's a boy, I still want to name him."

"Really?" There was a secret curiosity in Rhaenyra's voice. "So, what do you have in mind, my beautiful girl?"

"Aemon," Daena said confidently. "It's not compatible with my name, but it's still a beautiful name. It seems like a strong and noble name to me. Besides, we'd be honoring my grand-grandfather's name, wouldn't we?"

Rhaenyra was surprised that her daughter made such a mature suggestion beyond her age. A caring smile spread across her lips. "Aemon is truly a beautiful name. Your choice is noble," she said, shaking her head slightly.

Meanwhile, the door slowly opened and one of the maids entered, embarrassed to have to interrupt this special moment between the princess and her daughter. "Princess, your lesson will start soon. We need to go," she said, bowing her head slightly.

Daena's facial expression changed suddenly. Her previous joy had given way to distress. “Mom,” she began, pursing her lips and putting a playful pleading tone into her voice. "I don't want to go. Can I skip classes for today, please?"

Rhaenyra was used to her daughter's dramatic behavior. But she still spoke gently and firmly. "You promised me that you would never neglect your studies, Daena. Do you remember?"

Daena thought for a moment and then frowned, "But if I leave, that stupid Aegon and Jace will make fun of me again!" she burst out. In addition to anger, a tear appeared in her eyes. "Only because I don't have a dragon! I don't have a dragon and they're throwing it in my face!"

Rhaenyra's heart sank. She knew how deeply her daughter felt the burden of not having dragons, which was the Targaryen inheritance. But she still spoke in a soft and supportive tone in response to her anger. "The next time Syrax lays an egg, you will be able to choose your own egg. It is your right and no one can interfere with that. I promise you."

However, these words did not satisfy Daena. "I don't want any eggs," she grumbled peevishly. "I want a dragon. Just like Dreamfyre! A big and powerful dragon!"

The little girl jumped up from the chair she was sitting next to her mother and headed towards the door with angry steps. Her small shoulders rose and fell angrily.

Rhaenyra let out a long sigh after her daughter. She knew that Daena's anger wasn't just about not having a dragon. Her siblings' mockery hurt the young girl's pride and damaged her self-confidence. But this stubbornness… this tough personality… Rhaenyra paused for a moment and muttered to herself with a genuine smile, "I don't know whom she got this stubbornness from.."

Then, as she ran her hands over her growing belly, her thoughts turned back to her unborn baby. "I hope you won't be as stubborn as your sister, little thing," she said fondly.

Her fourth pregnancy was more difficult than her previous three. Fatigue took over her body, but despite this, she couldn't wait to hold her little baby in her arms. There was hope in her heart. Just like Daena said, a cute baby girl never hurts. But it didn't matter if he was a boy. The important thing was that they would bring new light to her family.

Rhaenyra fell into daydreaming while caressing her belly. Maybe this could be an opportunity for the baby family to come together. Maybe their children would finally be proud of each other instead of competing with humans. Time would tell.

First of all, this fiction was created with components from both the book and the series. I am neither green nor black. I prefer to love the characters individually instead of keeping a team. I hope you like my fiction. English is not my first language, so feel free to point out my mistakes and ask anything you want.

Daena Velaryon is the second child and first daughter of Rhaenyra and Leanor. So she's only a year younger than Jace. Of course, just like her siblings, she grew up with questions about her 'true blood' for years. And like Aemond, she had no dragon, so she also became an object of ridicule.

That's it for now and I can assure you that Daena will not be riding Cannibal. You're welcome 😽

I also publish my fiction on Wattpad! You can also reach me there with the same name!

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 78: Oliver's Awakening

Previous > Masterlist

tw: aftermath of mind control, discussion of abuse

October 1925

Oliver writhed on the ground, his chest as tight as a drum and tears squeezing from his eyes, as all the fear and pain and shame that had been suppressed the past few months flooded him.

He'd been content, so content to give up his own life to become the servant of a vampire, hardly even struggling as he was taken and confined and ensorcelled. He'd enjoyed the vile feedings, looking forward to the vampire drinking away his blood, pleased to slump over in the vampire's arms as his life was drained, satisfied with the twin scars on his neck. He'd cheerfully allowed the vampire to pass him around like a party favor to his lover, to curl up around him as he slept, to dress him up in ball gowns and take him to vampire dens to show off…

But truly, it wasn't the shame that hurt the most -- that was just the easiest of his emotions to understand. No, the worst of it was the profound sense of emptiness. It was if Alexander's music had filled something within him he hadn't known was empty. It had given him a purpose, even if it was to follow the selfish whims of a monster, and now he was devoid. Knowing intellectually that it had never been a real purpose, just enslavement, didn't ease the sting of his heart.

Vivian crouched down and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Oliver, I know it's a lot to process. It might take days or weeks --"

"You don't know!" Oliver wrenched backwards to get away from her, furious. "You don't know what you just took. You can't!"

"I know it must hurt --"

"If you knew it would hurt like this, then why did you do it against my wishes?" Oliver demanded.

"Oliver!" Emily was standing nearby. "She was just trying to help. It's not fair to yell at her like that."

"It's not fair that I feel like this!"

"Leave him alone," said Vivian. "Let him scream at me if he wants. He's coming out of a much deeper enthrallment than you were in, Emily. It won't be easy."

"That's not true," she said indignantly. "I could barely talk, couldn't remember my past, wasn't even literate any more."

"Yes, and that's relatively easy for a vampire to do. What's been done to Oliver is far more precise and insidious, to keep him so intact on the surface while bending his desires and loyalties completely."

"Do you mind talking about me as though I'm not even here?" Oliver hated how angry he was, how he couldn't control the harshness of his voice. He was never angry, never so much as raised his voice at a difficult customer, not before he was captured. Even then, his anger had been weak, easily plucked out of his head by that damned Miss Lily. He felt sick to think of himself drowsing in her company, letting her rummage through his very mind, throw out anything she didn't like, and replacing his truth with a pretty painted facade.

"I'm sorry," said Vivian. "I know you're upset with me, but this is important. Can you still feel the connection with your former master?"

"No. It's been severed. I can't hear him anymore."

"That's good. With a vampire that powerful, it's likely that your connection is actually only weakened, not entirely destroyed. He may try to enter your head again, draw you under his sway."

Oliver nodded, ashamed that a part of him hoped he would, that Alexander's music would dull the pain. No, he would have to resist somehow. He couldn't go through all of this heartache for no reason, to go merrily skipping back into the arms of a vampire. Vivian's magic had stripped away the illusion, revealed the monster behind the handsome face.

"I'll try to resist," said Oliver shakily.

"Good, that's good. If you hear his voice, you need to tell me immediately, all right? I can help protect you, or wash out his influence again if we need to," she said. "It's my fault for not killing him when I had the chance. I was a coward. And now I'll have to plan to go after him again, before he hunts me down."

"Don't kill him!" Oliver's fervor surprised even him.

"Oliver, you'll never be safe until I do."

"I know that, but -- I don't want him to die. Maybe I should want him to die, maybe I'm still under his spell, but I can't bring myself to want him to die," he said, not understanding why he felt so strongly about this when he knew Alexander's true nature.

"He took you from your bookshop, remember?" said Emily. "The whole time we were in those cages -- at least, before Lily warped our minds -- that's all you could talk about, was your bookshop and how you had to return there. Don't you want to?"

His bookshop, and the tiny apartment above. His little safe haven, where he'd spent his entire life. The antique books locked behind the counter, the sagging shelves of the history section, the ratty armchair with the throw blankets that might still be waiting for him.

"I can't go back there," he said. "Alexander was one of my customers. He'd find me easily."

"That's why I have to kill him," said Vivian.

Mounting horror dawned on Oliver. "But even if you did kill him, it wouldn't do any good, because his sire would find out and hunt us both down. I'm sure of it."

"His sire? A vampire that powerful, and he's still beholden to his sire?"

"He's a terrifying vampire." The fear, which had been acute before, was now so much more sharp without Alexander's soothing influence. He could remember the feel of harsh fangs in his neck all too well, the panic of being unable to open his eyes. "Far more terrifying than Alexander could ever be. Alexander once told me that if we ever tried to escape him, he'd hunt us both down and make sport of it, and I believe him."

"It can't be…" Vivian muttered. "Tell me more about him, your former master's sire."

As much as Oliver didn't care to recall those memories, Vivian might actually be able to help. "I'll tell you whatever information I have. I'd be happy to see him die, and Alexander would, too. I don't know his real name, but they all call him the Maestro --"

"You've met him?" She gripped his shoulders like a madwoman. "You've actually met the Maestro?"

"Unfortunately, yes. You've heard of him?"

"He took my mother. He's the vampire I need to kill more than any other. You must tell me everything you know about him."

"I'm sorry about your mother," he said. "I can tell you everything I've learned about him, if you agree that you won't kill Alexander."

"Even if I were convinced you truly meant that and it wasn't just residual conditioning, I couldn't agree to that. Alexander is likely to come after me for taking you, and if he does, I need to be able to defend myself."

"I suppose that's true," said Oliver reluctantly. He didn't want to admit to himself that it would be ideal if Vivian were to kill the Maestro but spare Alexander, so that he would have the option of returning to the vampire without the threat of his sire hanging over their heads.

No, he must still be under the spell. He shouldn't return to Alexander under any circumstances, not if he wanted to keep a free thought in his head.

"You need to tell me," Vivian insisted. "Revenge on the Maestro is one of the main reasons I became a hunter in the first place. It wasn't just my mother who suffered. He's killed at least twenty hunters, and he's believed to have kidnapped a number of musicians and stage performers. He needs to be stopped."

"He does." Oliver sighed, feeling that tiny bit of leverage slip. "All right. I'll tell you what I know."

He tried to recall everything he could for Vivian's sake -- everything Lex had told him, and especially recounting his own experiences with the cruel vampire. Emily sat nearby, her eyes going wide with horror as Oliver described his blinding and the painful feeding. Vivian, on the other hand, was absorbing all of Oliver's words carefully.

"So when he controlled you -- was there any sort of induction he had to perform? Any conditions he had to meet?"

"I don't think so, or at least I don't remember any. Alexander didn't mention any either. He was able to puppet my body as easily as if I were a toy, and there didn't seem to be any way to resist it."

"Hm. That's going to be trouble," said Vivian, deep in thought. "And when he stopped you from opening your eyes again -- how long did it take for that enthrallment to wear off?"

"It didn't. The next day, Alexander took me to Miss -- to another vampire's home, one that specializes in hypnotizing humans, and she reversed the Maestro's command."

"A specialist in hypnotizing humans? Lily?"

"You know her too?"

"Yes, I'm aware of her."

"Are you going to kill her, too?"

"I really should, considering how many people's minds she's destroyed -- or are you going to defend her as well?"

"…No." Truthfully, he felt more conflicted about it than he should, given that Vivian was objectively correct. How many human minds had she stolen? How many lives had she cut short, selling innocent people off to vampires with nothing more than glee about her profits? She was the one who had twisted his mind, and all those feelings of comfort and warmth as he slept in her chair were nothing more than lies to keep him docile.

"So do have any idea where the Maestro lives?"

"No, I'm sorry. Those are the only two times I encountered him, and Alexander never mentioned where he lives, from what I can recall."

Vivian sighed. "It's a pity. But even so, you've given me far more information than I had yesterday, and I'm grateful for it."

"You know… both you and Alexander want the Maestro dead. Could you ever consider working together?" asked Oliver.

"Working with a vampire?"

"Only this one specific time, only to kill an even worse vampire!"

"I can't do that," said Vivian. "Even if we do have the same goal. Fighting a vampire as formidable as the Maestro would leave me vulnerable, and I can't trust that this Alexander wouldn't simply enthrall me afterwards. In fact, he'd be stupid not to, lest I kill him."

Oliver wanted to protest that Alexander wouldn't do that… except that Alexander might actually do that. After all, he had no qualms at all about buying a human at auction, even a human he previously knew as an equal. Why would he hesitate to enthrall a hunter?

"Come on," said Vivian, helping him off the floor. "We can talk more about this later. You've been through a lot tonight, and need more time to shake off the spell you've been under. We have a room that you can use, but I'm going to have to lock you in, and keep you under surveillance for now, at least until we're sure that your vampire isn't going to try and push himself into your head again."

"Fine," he said, accepting that Vivian didn't trust him. He didn't even trust himself. "Why can he still do that, if you've undone the enthrallment?"

"There's a psychic connection established when a vampire drinks your blood. It's not quite the same thing as enthrallment, and it can be very strong. It fades in days or weeks, but until then, you'll still be vulnerable to the vampire's influence."

"I see." He wondered if that applied to any vampire which had fed from him. If it did, that meant -- "But the Maestro, he…"

"Yes," she said grimly. "Has he ever entered your mind before, when he's not there in person?"

"I don't think so. I hope not."

"I hope not either. I'm not prepared to fight him just yet. If you sense anything, you need to tell me right away."

"Yes, of course."

Vivian led Oliver out of the attic and into a room little bigger than a closet, with a cot and a small chest of drawers. "You should get some rest," she said, herding Oliver inside. "You'll feel better once you have. Is there anything you need?"

"A glass of water, please?" asked Oliver, sitting on the edge of the cot. "And if you have any interesting books…"

"Certainly. I'll see what I can do."

Oliver waited patiently for Vivian to return with the water and a couple of old magazines. As soon as she left the room and he heard the lock click shut, he fell back onto the bed, knowing that he wouldn't even be able to concentrate on reading, not with all the thoughts crowding his head.

He was free.

Wasn't he?

It was terribly hard to feel free when he was locked into a small room, the threat of his vampiric master and his sire still hanging over his head like an executioner's axe. The confinement was for his own safety, and he understood the reasons, but he wouldn't actually be free until both Alexander and the Maestro had ceased to walk the earth.

He was frustrated with himself. He shouldn't care so much about the well-being of a vampire who had literally purchased him at auction. And yet…

Now that the initial shock and fear had worn off, he was finding himself gripped by a deep and profound sadness. The cot he lay on was hard and cold, and he couldn't suppress his longing for his bed at home -- no, Alexander's bed. It wasn't ever his. He'd been hypnotized to share it, to cuddle up with a monster.

He'd been hypnotized into affection.

And it was really the only affection he'd had since he was a child, wasn't it? He'd lived such a solitary and quiet life, spending almost every night alone in his small apartment with books for company. Even the simple pleasure of curling up to read next to someone else had been foreign to him until he came into Alexander's possession.

And it had all been a fabrication meant to keep him compliant, hadn't it? He shouldn't miss it. He should be glad to be rid of it.

But the thought of returning to his solitary life, of never experiencing actual tenderness, was crushing him inside. He'd been starving for so many years, but it had been bearable when he didn't know what he was missing. Now that he knew that his choice was between actual loneliness and false companionship, he could only be ashamed at the parts of himself which preferred the lie.

No, he had to press on somehow. He couldn't return himself to a monster, no matter how charming. He should be happy to be freed. He could have his own life back. He could sleep during the night and wake during the day, and walk in the sunshine, and choose to go wherever he pleased.

He could take what little money he had stashed in his bookshop and take a train out of town, or a boat overseas, see the new places that he dreamed about but never got around to visiting. He could start his life over, do something else with it. Live a fuller life in the here and now rather than wait in his lonely little bookshop, wait for something to happen to him. Something had happened to him, and it should have taught him a lesson about choosing what he wants before it's chosen for him.

It was exhilarating. But…

For all his newly gained freedom, he still had no idea what he actually wanted. The desire for fangs in his neck was fake, but at least it was a clear desire. What did he want before, apart from books and safety? And who was he now, now that he knew the dangerous world of the supernatural lurked just behind every streetlamp, just waiting to pull him into it?

Previous > Masterlist

Next week: Oliver is not as free as he might have hoped.

I'll also have a Christmas-adjacent self-indulgent vampire story up tomorrow, so please keep an eye out! And vote in the holiday edition of Sedation Vending Machine!

Thanks for reading this story another year, and happy holidays!

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @und3ad-mutt

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

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@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

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@whump-me-harder @whump-till-ya-jump @the-monarch-whumperfly @ium1naryy @wumpbean

[ang3lmoans]

Angel’s mind went blank. He laid back in the bed listening to Garam be rather vulnerable. Listening intensely his eyes shifted from his best friend's eyes and down to his lips. The exaggerated pout and his apology. How could everything Garam did be this cute? The other man’s ability to apologize properly was something he envied about his friend. He smiled trying to find the right words to make his apology when his best friend's fingertips moved over his torso. His breathing hitched as his gaze finally left his face. Angel bit into his bottom lip attempting to prevent his excitement from showing elsewhere. His eyebrows pressed together and his hands clenched. His nerves lasted seconds seeing how red Garam became. A smirk spread across his face. “Now you are all shy? “ he teased. Then Garam was gone. Hiding under the covers probably embarrassed. Angel now sat up shifting to hover over his best friend. For a moment he hovered giving the man a chance to reveal himself on his own. Their eyes scanned over the fabric wanting to see more of his best friend's cute faces. Within minutes Angel grew impatient carefully pulling the blanket down, “Baby don't hide from me” Angel cooed smiling as he could see Garam once more. He couldn't hide his joy. Listening to his longest crush saying he wanted a relationship with him. More importantly when they were both ready. Even going as far as to tell him he could do whatever he wanted. Angel, shook his head knowing Garam didn't have any idea what he just set himself up for. “Let’s revisit all of this when you are sober.” He wanted to say so much. Wear his heart on his sleeve the way Garam makes it seem so easy to do. Nonetheless, he looked over Garam’s side profile pressing a kiss to his cheek, “can you look at me?” he whispered into his ear. Angel waited patiently smiling as he could see his face. It didn't take long until he found himself leaning down inches from the other's lips. Angel hesitated for a moment unsure if this was the right choice. Still, he connected their lips. Garam’s lips felt warm and soft, just as he pictured in his head. He tasted of beer which Angel didn't mind as long as it was him. His Garam. He pulled back just enough to look over the smaller man’s face as he immediately apologized, “I’m sorry I couldn't resist. Why are you being so cute?” His eyes were glued to the other. Taking in every detail of his face. How red and glowing it was. “Rest. We both need rest” Angel said softly but the words were empty. He didn't move from his hovering position wanting Garam to push him away. The raven-haired man could still feel the fingertips on his torso. Everything inside him was screaming out for Garam. However Angel knew he was only ready for a kiss.

even though the two of them fought, garam still trusted himself in the man's hands. he was positive the other wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt him, at least physically. "you wouldn't drop me," he replied confidently. when angel retorted on his towel dropping, garam getting to see that something he'd like, his body stiffened, his grip on angel's hand tightening for a moment, but he hadn't let it stop him from pulling the other to his room. "maybe i'd like that," he mumbled even though he knew he shouldn't have said something. garam watched as angel pulled the blankets back for him, his posture relaxing as his head tilted to the side. he knew angel was only being so nice right now because garam was drunk, he was sure there was at least an inkling inside of him that wanted to yell at him or something akin to, but the fact that he could be holding anything negative he felt back made garam feel warm inside. he pushed aside how he was feeling to take care of garam, how was he supposed to still be angry with angel when he took care of him so well. he crawled into the man's bed, only going as far as to tuck his legs under the blanket until angel had left to get dressed, himself. while angel was in the bathroom, garam ended up climbing out of the man's bed so he could take his jeans off. he would have taken his shirt off as well and just slept in his underwear but he was afraid of seeing angel's expression upon seeing the fading bruises on his abdomen. once the other man reappeared, garam pushed himself up onto his elbows, his eyes not leaving angel as he approached. garam sat up and turned so he could look down to angel, his brows pulling together as he let out a soft sigh. even though angel wanted to talk later on, when they were both sober, garam just couldn't stop himself from speaking anyways. he needed to apologize, he couldn't have angel going to bed thinking garam was mad or upset with him. the smaller man pouted a bit exaggeratedly, grumbling in distress as he shook his head. "i'm sorry i yelled at you... and for the things i said. i'm not mad at you, i really don't blame you for anything. you've always had the best of intentions and-and you always look out for me, you take care of me, and i know it's not just because you're into me but because you are a good person and you care about my wellbeing. you saw what i chose to ignore, i probably would have died by his hands if you hadn't made the sacrifice you had." he looked so pathetic, like he was on the verge of crying while he apologized. if he was going to be completely honest, fighting, not being on good terms with angel was tearing him up inside. that's why he drank as much as he did, so he wouldn't have to feel how horrible he did for yelling and saying things he shouldn't have said. "when i'm ready for another relationship, i want it to be you. and when you're ready," his expression had shifted when he paused, showing more of a devious smile now as he moved his hand to angel's stomach, letting his fingers take small steps upward, "i'm going to let you do whatever you want to me." garam spoke slowly as if he were trying to ensure his words were clear, letting his expression now reflect his lack of sobriety; his smile stretching ear to ear, his eyes narrowing and his nose scrunching up as he giggled softly. his intention was to fluster angel just as much as seeing the man's bare and damp body flustered him. it seemed, though, that his effort had the exact opposite effect as he found himself getting flustered at the mere idea of hooking up with angel. his grin disappeared in an instant, the red of his already flushed cheeks deepening. garam let himself fall back down to the bed, though he was quick to pull the blanket up over his head to hide himself from the embarrassment he caused himself, groaning quietly. he wasn't sure if he would come to regret his words when he sobered up, all he knew was that he was too embarrassed to show his face to angel right in that moment.

[amortxt]

⠀ㅤ⠀ ⠀𖥻⠀ㅤ⠀﹫⠀choso⠀kamo.

ㅤㅤⓘㅤㅤfluff, reader and choso are in an established relationship, yuji is a child and choso's little brother, silliness ensues

the tv speakers blasted out a laugh track from a now forgotten TV show. you and yuji sat down on the living room carpet giggling, as you uncapped the black washable markers. a playful smile on your face.

"okay yuji, i need you to sit super still for me so i don't mess this up, okay sweetie?" he nodded excitedly. his eyes shining with mischief that you chose to ignore for the better health of your mind.

the boy was practically quaking with eagerness, but he tried his very best to stay as still as possible. you dragged the marker across the bridge of his nose and onto both sides of his face, making a long rectangle against his soft skin.

you hold up a small mirror for him and his smile gets impossibly wider. "do i look good? do i look like him!?" he pokes at the marker that decorates his skin.

you pick him up and hold him into your lap, ruffling his hair as he laughs. "you look adorable! you look just like your big brother, yuji!" you hold him tight and pick up your phone and snap a photo of you and yuji together.

the door unlocks, your heads both turn and you pause the tv. yuji gets up off your lap and practically sprints to go and greet his big brother.

you could hear yuji giggling and screaming in excitement as you walked to go and greet your beloved. he had the most awestruck expression, it pulled a small chuckle out of you too.

yuji continued running around in circles, yapping on about how happy he was to have looked like his big brother. you pulled choso into a hug and gave him a kiss.

he prolonged it just a bit more and you smiled on his lips. he finally let you pull away, you two both out of breath. "this is what you two do while i'm not home?"

"i have to entertain myself somehow! maybe when yuji is away we can dye your hair pink." you made a sly grin.

his face twists and his eyebrows scrunch. he was supposed to walk into work with bright pink hair? but looking at your face, and looking at his little brother who was running around in glee from matching just the smallest detail.. how could he ever deny the two most important people in his life?

"…maybe." your face practically lights up. you energetically laugh just the same as the small child that was prancing around behind you, jumping with excitement in choso's hold. he can't help but laugh with you. yuji, overhearing your conversation came running back again to hug choso, making an "uppie" gesture, to which choso picked him up. he felt so loved, so at home.

⠀ㅤ⠀⠀©⠀all work written by ﹫amortxt. do not repost.

[starogeorgina]

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of child death, blood, oral sex, mentions of cancer, age gap

1.01

Thank you @justinalovee for the pretty header

Exhausted, you snuggle up on the faded green couch, your freezing feet covered by worn-out socks and a wooly blanket. The sound of gunfire and screams in the distance is muffled by the heavy rainfall battering against the windows. Settled down, you open the romance book you found a few days prior while savaging and opening it. The pages were ripped and stained, but it would be an escape from reality, one that you desperately needed. A few hours later, you're so engrossed in the story that the sound of the door of your apartment creaking open catches you off guard.

You glance up, your heart racing, as you see a shadowy figure enter. You reach for the handgun sitting on the side table and aim it at the person. “Take one more step, and I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

“Shit, it’s y/n, right?”

You almost shoot the intruder, but don't when you sense a familiarity about them, it was Tess’s partner in crime. “Texas, ain’t it?”

“You can call me whatever you want once you've lowered the gun.” Relief washes over you, but it's quickly replaced by irritation when he dangles a key on the edge of his finger. “Tess gave it to me. She told me to let myself in.”

You lower the gun and place it into the holster on your belt, then get up and snatch the key from him. “Mind telling me why she gave you the key to our home?”

He rolls up his sleeve, showing you the deep cut on his arm. “Tess said you could help patch me up... I can go—”

Of course Tess sent him to you; she had a tendency to volunteer you as a first aider for her criminal buddies. Scoffing, you grip his arm to get a better look at the wound. “It’s deep; you’ll need stitches. I don’t have any numbing cream left, so it’s going to hurt like hell.”

“I can survive a little bit of pain.”

—

As you carefully clean the wound on Joel's arm with a damp cloth, you can't help but feel the weight of responsibility on your shoulder. Your medical supplies were starting to run low, and with more bombings happening than before, you’d definitely need to get some more soon.

And Tess sending strays to your door wasn’t helping.

Joe winces as you gently probe the wound, his muscles tensing under your touch. He looks at you with eyes filled with gratitude and a touch of pain. He holds a torch with his free hand so you can see what you are doing without drawing attention to your apartment with a brighter light on.

“I don't know how to thank you,” he says hoarsely.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Tess is always looking for supplies to bring back to you. I’m guessing you worked in medicine before.”

“This is going to hurt,” you say, before punctuating the first bit of flesh on his arm with the tiny needle. “You smuggle guns and drugs with my sister, right?”

Joel grits his teeth and nods. “I usually just smuggle guns or other weapons.”

“Me and Tess have both picked up extra work over the next couple of weeks. If I write a list of things I need, would you be able to get them for me?”

When he doesn’t respond, you look up and see how tightly his hand is squeezing around your torch. Sighing, you take the torch from his free hand and pop it between your lips. The last thing you needed was him breaking it. A few moments later, you’re finished, and you tie off the ends of the stitches.

“Fuck!” Joel lets out a noise of relief. “That hurt more than I thought it would.”

“Meaty part of the body,” you shrug.

Joel studies the stitches in his arm for a few seconds, then carefully rolls his sleeve back down, then stands. “I'm burning infected in the morning, but you can slide the list underneath my door, Tess can give you my address. I’ll try and get what you need on my next supply run.”

“Cool. You can let me know how many ration packs I owe you once you’ve got them.”

—

Soon as you walk into your apartment, you peel your top that’s sticking to your body with sweat over your head. You sniff it before tossing it onto the heap of dirty clothing on the floor. You glance over at Tess, who is watching with an amused expression on her face.

“What?”

“Expecting it to smell like roses, huh?”

“I smell of sweat, smoke, and death.” You walk by her and into the small kitchen to start boiling a pot of water. “Anything else you want washed?”

Tess shakes her head. Washing was a luxury you didn’t always have, but since the generator was working in your building, you’d take advantage of the opportunity while it was there. Once the water was boiled, you’d pour it into the bathtub, wait for it to cool down, then clean your hair and body, then wash the pile of dirty clothes. The color the bath water would turn afterwards would no doubt turn your stomach.

“Joel stopped by earlier,” she says, holding the cup of shitty coffee close to her lips and breathing in its smell. “He dropped off a couple of first aid kits.”

“Thank god, I had hardly anything left.” You open the door to the cupboard you keep your ration packs hidden behind a slab of wood. “What did he want for it?”

“Nothing.”

You snap your head up to face her. Nobody does anything for free these days. “Come again?”

“He says your square for stitching him up.”

“Oh, that’s good,” you say.

A small smile pulls on your lips; at least you got to hold onto your ration packs for a little longer.

“What’s with the blood?”

You look down at your stomach and see the dried-in red patches. “It’s not mine. A couple of FEDRA soldiers got into a scuffle, so instead of getting a real medic, they asked me to clean them up. Nothing major, just a broken nose and burst lip.”

She chuckles. “I did try to warn you that this would happen. You made your own bed the moment you spilled on working in a hospital in your past life.”

—

As you carefully clean the wound on Joel's knee, you can't help but notice the tension between him and Tess. When you arrived home, the two of them were arguing, but all you overheard was Joel saying your sister was getting greedy, and she thought he needed to toughen up.

Tess was already a teenager when you were born, so growing up, you idolized her and have never seen her as anything other than fearless, so hearing her say Joel needs to be tougher made you question what the hell they were up against.

The threats within the quarantine zones have been getting worse lately; the firefly attacks have increased, and with the sounds of screams echoing through the walls of your apartment building, you assume one of the men who died in the bombing a few hours before was important to someone in your building. Tess was now pacing the room, her face drawn with worry. She keeps glancing at the window, as if she can see beyond the grimy glass to the dangers lurking outside. You can tell she's afraid, but she won't admit it.

Not yet anyway.

Sitting cross-legged on the ground to get a better look at Joel’s wound, you casually ask, “So what did you cut yourself on this time, Texas?”

“Cut it on barbed wire.”

“Trying to jump a fence or—“

“Don’t,” Tess hisses. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

She was right to an extent; you didn’t really want to know what lawbreaking your sister was doing; it would only keep you awake at night worrying about her. But a part of you wanted to know how Joel was involved. You wanted to know more about their relationship and if it was platonic or something more.

—

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

Although you lived with Tess, you hadn’t seen much of her over the past few weeks. One of you had either been working or sleeping while the other was home. The two of you moving the bodies of the dead from the back of a truck into the fire pit was the most time you’ve spent together in a while.

“Ask away.”

“What’s going on between you and Texas? Are you guys sleeping together?”

She scoffs, her nose scrunches up with disgust. “Of course not. I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

“Fair enough.”

The air reeks of smoke and ash as you heave another corpse onto the pile. Its limp form hits the ground with a heavy thud, sending up a cloud of gray dust into the air. The acrid smell of burning flesh fills your nostrils, making your stomach turn. You readjust the bandana covering your nose to try and keep the smell out, but it has little effect. You’d definitely need to scrub hard later to try and remove the smell of death from your skin.

Tess stares at you intensely. “Y/n...”

“I was just asking because he’s always at our place. I didn’t know if you two were fucking or planning different ways to dig yourselves deeper graves.”

In the blink of an eye, Tess is standing in front of you. She pulls her own bandana down so there’s nothing muffling her voice. “Let me be clear: I value Joel; he’s a good friend. He’s the guy you want around when shit goes down, but he’s not a good person. Me, and him have both done unthinkable things to stay alive.”

“He’s the muscle; you're the brain.”

She nods slowly, “something like that. I don’t know Joel’s full story; he’s reserved. And he can stick his dick wherever he likes as long as it doesn’t interfere with our business.”

Before you can say anything else, another truck loaded with bodies pulls up. “Oh shit, it looks like it’s going to be a double shift.”

—

Joel appears at your apartment a few nights later, with an unopened bottle of whisky in his hand. “I heard you had a shitty day.”

Without saying anything, you open the door, letting him in. Tiredly, you rub at your eyes before getting two glasses from the cupboard. Joel opens the bottle and then pours the whisky into the glasses. You assumed the news of what happened earlier in the day affected him as well.

Licking at your lips, you mumble, “It doesn’t matter how tough you are; the death of kids is always hard.”

He takes a massive gulp before slamming his glass onto the table and pouring himself another. “Fuck, yeah.”

You go over to the couch, zip open one of the cushion covers, and pull out a packet of cigarettes. “Want one?”

“I don’t smoke.”

“Neither do I, usually.”

You pull out one cigarette, then tuck the packet away again. You only ever smoked while stressed. “Five kids, five fucking kids lives gone within seconds.”

A bomb was supposed to be planted underneath the death square where they hang criminals, but something had gone wrong, and the firefly transporting the weapon set it off early, killing himself and anyone in close proximity, including five innocent children.

Sometime passes before you finally speak again. “Tess told you about Michael, didn’t she?”

Joel nods as he comes and sits beside you. “She mentioned you had a son who died.”

“Michael was diagnosed with leukemia when he was two; he died just before his sixth birthday.”

“I’m sorry.”

You take another shot of your drink and say, “He’s the reason I became a pediatric nurse.“

“What about his dad?”

“Probably dead,” you snort. “Paddy, my high school sweetheart, didn't like the idea of being a teen dad to a sick kid so bailed.”

“That’s shit.”

You sink further into the couch. “What about you Texas? What’s your story?”

“I’m going to need a whole lot more liquor for that.”

—

You and Joe huddle close together in the dimly lit room, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows on the walls. The whisky was going down far too nicely, as Joel told you how he married his ex when he found out she was pregnant, but after his daughter was born, his wife left one day, and he didn’t hear from her again until she sent him divorce papers. Joel’s daughter, Sarah, died at the start of the outbreak after being shot by a soldier.

“Who knew we had so much in common?” you whisper, your voice hoarse from the cheap whiskey. “But at least we don’t ever need to see our assholes ex’s again.”

A dark chuckle passes his lips. “You’re just always looking for that silver lining.”

As you both finish your drinks, you lean in closer to Joel, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. You close your eyes and imagine a different world, one where the outbreak never happened.

—

As the months went on, Joel would visit you more frequently; sometimes he had alcohol, other times he brought dinner. You tried not to look too much into the fact that he mainly came at night when Tess was on shift. Although he still spent time with her smuggling various items, he also liked spending alone time with you.

Tonight was different though, it was the first time you gave into temptation. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss as you straddle Joel’s waist, tongues tangling as you both lose yourself in the moment. The tension between you has been building for far too long, and tonight you both have just enough adrenaline and whisky pumping through your bodies to give into your desire for one another. Your hands roam over his body, exploring every inch of skin you have access to. Your thighs are left bare as the long t-shirt you wear to bed rides up, Joel’s fingers dig into your soft flesh as he grinds up against you. The sound of your heavy breathing fills the room, mingling with the soft sound of the wind howling outside.

You pull back for a moment to catch your breath, locking eyes with each other.

You lean in to kiss him again, but Joel gently pushes you off his lap and sits you back onto the couch. At first, you take this as a rejection until he starts kissing down your neck. He slowly gets onto the ground and kneels between your legs, his eyes fixed on yours, as he slowly pulls down your pants. You gasp as his hot breath teases your sensitive flesh, and then puts his mouth on your cunt. His tongue circles your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You arch your back, unable to contain the moans escaping your lips.

Joel lightly slaps at your thigh and smirks. “You gotta be quiet; I can’t have you waking the neighbors now.”

The cocky smile on his face turns you on even more. You throw your head back, letting out a long, low moan as Joel's tongue teases your sensitive flesh. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he devours you. The world outside your rundown apartment fades away, replaced by the intense pleasure coursing through your body as Joel gives you the first of many orgasms that night.

[purpledemonlilyposting]

I'm gonna lose my mind with these anons.

Do Lily stans realise that screaming transphobia and transmisogyny at valid criticism is actually not good for the LGBTQ+ community and instead implies that minorities should get special treatment? There's fighting for equal rights, and then there's this.

Also if you were going after transwomen, you would've also attacked NikkieTutorials or Samantha Lux, but you don't because (to my knowledge) they are good people. And before any of Lily stans start saying you don't go after them, because they have a large following: firstly, they have a large following because they don't constantly bitch about everything and are sweethearts, secondly, you would absolutely go after someone shitty no matter the channel size.

It feels like listening to Dream stans but even worse, because you'd think their brain has developed enough to understand writing CP and incest is weird as shit and it should automatically get you a mental health evaluation.

Sorry for the long rant, I just needed to get his off my chest. Also, I think you're cool, and the fact that I disagree with you on a few things gives me the option to grow as a person. Keep being awesome :)

Guys look the internet thinks I'm cool!

That's the thing anon: I don't expect everybody to agree with me on every little thing, nor do I expect to agree with others on every little thing. That's part of being a functioning adult in society.

I just wanted to go after Lily's dogshit media takes in the beginning, now I'm mired in all of her bullshit. Patricia Taxxon's goupies came for my friend @crimsonender and I'm not going to just NOT point out that every single account is some gooner shit.

Maybe people should more be asking why they'll look the other way when someone is openly talking about being turned on by child rape just because they identify as transgender.

[yuyusgirlie]

[12:29 am]

"What do you think you were doing out there?" He looked at you with an unmistakable fire in his eye.

"At the party? I was enjoying myself? All I did was chat with people and grab a few snacks."

"For hours."

"Jeonghan you were literally there with me, you know exactly what I did. I don't understand what this arguement is abou-" your tone was starting to get more stressed as this conversation continued, but that wasn't Jeonghan's goal.

You were resting against the kitchen counter, your arms crossed as you were watching Jeonghan stand in the middle of the living room. He was watching you as your hands started to fidget with the hem of your sweater. 

“Darling, it’s never about that. I trust you blindly. It’s about the others.” At this point Jeonghan’s eyes are locked on to yours. His gaze feels almost threatening as he approaches you, a beast stalking its prey. “It’s the way those people look at you. How they talk to you. How they think they have a chance.” 

Jeonghan takes your hand in his gently, his eyes never leaving yours and bring the back of your hand to his lips for a soft kiss. His hand then begins to run up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Travelling past your shoulder, up your neck his hand reaches your face as he holds you by your chin, tilting your gaze slightly higher as he comes closer, pressing himself against you. 

“Its the way they don’t know you’re mine.” 

You are left speechless as even your breathing fails you. Your look of awe tells Jeonghan everything he needs to know as he smirks. 

“You were enjoying all the attention they were giving you darling. I can’t blame them you are an absolute delight. But I can’t help to get a little jealous my love.” He almost whispers against your lips before pulling away. 

As he takes a step back it felt like the charm he put you under for the moment snapped out of existence. You take notice of where you are and your reaction to Jeonghan. You are still pressed up against the kitchen counter, both hands now gripping the edge as you held on to every word Jeonghan spoke to you. 

You watched him continue to move towards your shared bedroom as you remain frozen in your spot for a few more moments, your soul taking its time connecting your emotions to your brain. 

As Jeonghan crossed through the doorway to your bedroom, you quickly turned the lights off in the kitchen and followed him into the bedroom, closing the door behind you. 

You set your phone down on your nightstand, keeping a close eye on the movements happening across the room. Jeonghan mirrors your actions and eventually sits on the edge of the bed, beginning to undo the top few buttons of his shirt. 

You slowly move to sit next to him on the bed, facing him. One of your hands moves to cover his hand with yours, wordlessly offering him help to get ready for bed. 

“You know you are the one who is always on my mind, right?” 

He smirks again, “of course.” 

“And you know no one else matters to me except for you.” 

“Always.” 

“And that I am yours.” 

“The same way I am yours.” 

You smile softly as you watch each button reveal more of your life partner, before looking up at him and giving him a soft kiss. As you pull away his hands move down to your waist, pulling you back in even closer this time, manuvering you into his lap. 

“I don’t mean to be overbearing, I really don’t. Trust me when I say I trust you blindly. But sometimes I just want the world to know you’re mine. I want them to remember who your heart belongs to.” His words continue to slowly spill as his mouth ghosts along your neck. 

“I want them to know whose name you scream,” was the last thing he spoke before he began to softly kiss your neck. Your hands moved to his shoulders, moving under the open shirt to feel his warm skin under your touch. 

His lips move up your neck to your jaw, eventually finding your lips once more. “Maybe I just need to remind everyone that you’re mine. And that I’m never letting go.” 

[superkooku]

My reactions on the Ithaca saga

Ok since the livestream was cancelled, here are my reactions after listening to the Ithaca saga a second time. These are my first impressions, without reading anyone else's opinion that could have good points. I may change my mind.

The good

That's just repeating myself at this point but the music !!! I'm in love with Epic's musical style. There's not a single song that I don't like musically. This last saga definitely delivered

Using 'Just a man' motif is always gonna get me

Spoilers from here

The end of Hold them down... I expected Antinous to die first since he does in the Odyssey, but not that fast 😂. That genuinely surprised me.

Penelope immediately accepting Odysseus' actions is spot on. I love that. All the OdyPen stuff was sweet, honestly.

The olive tree bed reference (also, I miss the song 'Olive tree' btw)

The meeting with Telemachus was sweet. No, the Ithaca family reunions were all well-done.

Small stuff, but I love the door opening effect in the last song. Epic would benefit from having a bit more sound effects and this is definitely the proof why. We imagine ourselves with Odysseus, as he discovers Penelope again.

The Warrior of the mind callback was really sweet !!

Odysseus (the song) gave me goosebumps. Especially the end, where it's just the suitors screaming until dead silence. I also really like the various singers.

Though when Telemachus sang "Throw down your weapons and I'll ensure you'll be spared", I couldn't stop thinking about that "The king doesn't like those with their hands in the air" thing 😂😂. And I had to pause the song and laugh.

The suitors asking Odysseus to spare them ? That was funny too. They're absolutely pathetic but somewhat threatening.

I like that Telemachus has the courage to fight. Edit : he DID fight, according to the animatics. I had the feeling he needed to contribute to the action and him standing there would be weak, but he did so that's a new positive !!

The less good

While I really liked this saga and don't have that much to point out (no bad surprises like other times), I do have smaller issues with it.

The first doesn't have anything to do with the saga itself but rather me... I regret listening to so much snippets 😅. I knew the Challenge by heart, Hold them down too (until the end), some parts of Odysseus as well. The only song that was totally new for me is "Would you fall in love with me again". Next time Jorge does a musical, I won't touch the snippets. At least not most of them.

I can't help but think that Odysseus' reunion with Athena was a bit rushed. They didn't address the fact that she helped him get out from Calypso's island, how she feels after God Games, or all those years of separation after the argument. I do like that it shows both of their evolutions and the differences them but a bit more in-depth closure (a few seconds longer) would've been even better

Penelope is a bit underdeveloped. Odysseus has his arc, Telemachus too, but she doesn't. She's beautiful in this saga and at least we see some cunning in 'The challenge', I just would've wished she appeared in Wisdom !! That would've solved the problem. Edit 2 : ok we have some god games aftermath thanks to the animatic. I still would've like them to address that a bit.

I'll separate this from the negative segment because it's just something funny, but Odysseus saying "rape" alone will definitely alter Epic's rating 😂. At least it doesn't gloss over saying it this time (I would've wished the Calypso incident was addressed in that case).

Ok ! I'm gonna listen to the Ithaca saga now. I'll watch the livestream after sleeping and THEN I'll come back to this post and add stuff.

[outoftheirdifferences]

THAT MOMENT WHEN YOU LEARN THAT YOUR FAVOURITE 90S TV SERIES IS GETTING NEW CONTENT FOR THE FIRST TIME IN DECADES!!!!

I DIDN'T KNOW THIS WAS HAPPENING, AND I'M JUST!!!

[link]

E X C I T E D ! ! ! ! !

[insurged]

just an fyi, i'm sorry i'm slow. at everything. replies, dm's, asks, etc. this is a hobby and i'm a tired 580 year old in spirit who works full time in the medical field and will be going to do more schooling for it. i follow people for a multitude of reasons but my vibe is always that i just enjoy seeing your content. i'm not going to put a time limit on when we have to interact/chat and soft block you when you can't meet that deadline. i try to interact or like posts when i can as a silent hello from afar. if you are following my blog and expect me to follow deadlines in terms of writing or even chatting, my blog is not for you. i am also not someone who has puppy dog energy to constantly be on the dash and chat and love everyone.

i am a cryptid old cat. i love from a distance. (◕‿◕) just a gentle reminder that i do this for fun, it's not a job.

[theonlyqualitytrash]

No need to thank me, Berry—honestly, you should be thanking yourself! (Really, everyone should thank you for requesting more fics like this!) When I saw your post asking for more Fyodor winter fics, I just knew I had to do something about it. I couldn’t resist! :>

I’ll try not to ramble too much:

Honestly, I haven't seen many Fyodor x Reader stories set in cozy winter settings either, and I wanted to make sure this one felt original. ;-; I was a bit uncertain about the flour battle scene at first, because I know not everyone has read the manga, and they might find it a little out of character for Fyodor. But this is the same guy who threw eggs at a wall while in prison. If he can be a bit silly in those moments, why can’t he be that way here? (I can't even remember the chapter—it’s been so long)

And yes—yes, I am totally stealing that idea for next Christmas. I am already planning a mountain retreat, cozy vacation-type fic with Fyodor and the reader. You’ve made me so excited that I’m already impatient for next year! I’m like, “Wait, I have to wait 365 days for this?!” You need to stop giving me ideas. >:( (please don't stop giving me ideas)

But really, really, don't mind me while I sob over how sweet your message was. It honestly fills my heart to know that it made you feel so warm and happy. Because that's exactly what I wanted—to give you a bit of cozy, heartwarming joy. If a fluff fic doesn’t have you rolling around on your bed, screaming and crying happy tears, then I haven’t done my job properly. :> I’m so hopeful that our friendship will bloom into the next year. Here’s a huge, comforting virtual hug from me to you ^^ hug

---

Gosh, what a deeply hurtful thing for them to say about you. I really hope they realize the impact of their words and properly apologize because that kind of comment isn’t something anyone should have to endure. I’ve been in a similar position before, where people that were close to me said things that just didn’t sit right, and it can really take a toll on your spirit.

I completely understand the fear of letting someone in, especially when you’ve never had experience with dating and love. It’s terrifying to open up and risk being hurt. But I want you to know that people like us—those who crave love in a very specific way, who want something deep and true—are not naive or foolish. If anything, it makes us stronger, more aware of what we deserve. We’re not settling for less, and that’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of.

I believe in love coming to us in all sorts of forms and at different times. So, as much as it can feel daunting, don’t ever doubt that love can find you, and it will come in a way that honors your heart. You deserve a love that meets you where you are, that sees you fully and unconditionally.

I’m so glad to hear that you’re not letting their words shake you. Your spirit, your kindness, your willingness to believe in something better—those are beautiful qualities. Keep holding onto that hope and trust that the right people will see and appreciate that in you.

🤍🌻

P.S. Yes, the title does translate to Blessed Winter, and I’m so glad you caught that! ^^ Every Fyodor fic I will ever write will have a Latin title, mostly because they’re just cool, but also because I headcanon him as someone who knows Latin. Plus, it’s a little homage to his timeless nature. He’s been around so long that Latin feels fitting.

Beata hiems - Fyodor x Reader

Synopsys: Holiday special—On a chilly winter morning, you and Fyodor set out together for a festive task, finding warmth in each other's company as you navigate the day.

No warnings, just fluff

A/N: Happy holidays, everyone! The most important thing during times like these is spending quality moments with the people you love. I realized I’ve written a lot of angst lately (and not ideal situations) that I almost forgot I can write pleasant things too :> Also, I ate way too much zacusca while writing this...

Word count: 3,300

Both you and Fyodor woke early, a habit born of necessity, yet today carried a rare air of anticipation. The quiet of the morning felt different—not the product of lingering work or duty, but a purposeful calm you both had sought together. The shared goal ahead of you—choosing the perfect yolka for the season—lent an unspoken warmth to the air, even as winter’s chill lingered outside. 

The sun had barely risen, painting the sky with strokes of pink and orange as you and Fyodor prepared to set out. You wrapped your scarf hastily against the cold, eager to step outside but not prepared for the bite of the crisp winter air. The moment you crossed the threshold, the frost nipped at your cheeks, and you tugged the scarf higher, but it was no match for Fyodor’s keen eye. 

“Come here,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the soft crunch of snow underfoot. His gloved hand reached for the scarf you had wrapped hurriedly around yourself. He adjusted it, deftly tucking the fabric snugly against your neck. His touch lingered—more delicate than necessary—and his sharp violet eyes softened in the golden light of the sunrise. 

“You’re always so particular,” you said softly, your voice carrying more fondness than teasing. 

A faint smile ghosted across his lips, one only you were privileged to see. “It’s merely practical. Keeping you warm spares me the concern.” Though his tone remained calm, the undercurrent of care made your chest tighten pleasantly. 

“Practical, yes,” you said with a smile, a playful impulse to tease him flickering in your mind but quickly fading as you gently brushed your fingers against his hand. “But thank you.”

His raised eyebrow and the slight curve of his lips suggested he’d noticed your reaction, but he said nothing, instead gesturing toward the road ahead. “Let’s go. The trees won’t choose themselves.” 

--- 

The tree market was alive with the bustling energy of the season. Vendors called out their wares, offering everything from firs and pines to handmade garlands and wooden ornaments. The scent of mulled wine and roasted nuts mixed with the sharp, earthy tang of pine, creating an atmosphere that was as festive as it was chaotic. 

You walked alongside Fyodor, arm in arm, his quiet presence shielding you from the full bite of the winter cold. His long coat and composed demeanor made him seem almost impervious to the freezing air, while you found yourself fiddling with your gloves and scarf for warmth. Yet his close proximity—so steady and reassuring—seemed to cast a blanket of warmth around you. 

“Look at this one,” you said, pointing to a tall, lush pine with branches that stretched wide like welcoming arms. You tilted your head, imagining it standing proudly in the corner of your living room, adorned with sparkling lights and delicate ornaments. 

Fyodor’s gaze swept over the tree with a critical eye, his gloved hands tucked neatly behind his back as he stepped closer. “It’s sturdy enough,” he remarked, reaching out briefly to test the firmness of the trunk. “But do we truly need something so ostentatious?” 

You chuckled, the sound warm despite the chill. “It’s not ostentatious; it’s festive. And it’ll look perfect with the handmade ornaments we’re about to pick out.” 

His lips quirked into a subtle smirk, the faintest flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Handmade ornaments? Are you assembling an art gallery in our living room?” 

“No,” you replied with a laugh, nudging his arm gently. “Just something unique for our tree. Help me find the perfect one.” 

The two of you wandered through the aisles, debating over height, fullness, and symmetry. Fyodor’s meticulous approach—inspecting every detail, pointing out subtle flaws in the trees you favored—somehow complemented your more intuitive choices. Where he saw imperfections, you saw character; where he sought balance, you admired the charm. 

Eventually, his resolve softened, and he let out a soft sigh, gesturing toward the very tree you’d first pointed out. “This one, then,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of indulgence. “If only to avoid spending the entire morning debating in the snow.” 

You grinned, stepping forward to examine the tree one last time, your fingers brushing against the soft needles. “I knew you’d come around.” 

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and though he said nothing, the faint upward tilt of his lips betrayed a rare contentment. Together, you flagged down a worker to help carry the tree, already envisioning the warmth it would bring to your home. 

--- 

The shelves at the decoration stall were a flood of color: glass baubles, painted wooden ornaments, strings of beads, and garlands in every shade imaginable. The scent of pine mingled with that of beeswax candles, adding a rustic charm to the lively atmosphere. Your fingers lingered on a set of painted ornaments shaped like matryoshka dolls, their intricate floral patterns catching the light as you turned them over. 

“These are beautiful,” you said, holding one up for Fyodor to inspect, the delicate ornament resting gently in your palm. 

He took it from your hand with care, his long fingers brushing yours as he did so. He examined the ornament thoughtfully, tilting it slightly to catch the light. “I do like them,” he admitted. “But do we plan for the tree to carry only traditional designs?” 

“Not at all,” you replied, already picturing a mix of old-world charm and contemporary elegance. “I thought we’d pair them with something simpler, like gold and white baubles, to balance it out. What do you think?” 

Fyodor’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his violet eyes reflecting a softness that contrasted with his usual guarded expression. “Elegant, yet practical. A perfect mix, really.” 

Pleased, you placed the ornaments into your basket and continued to wander through the stalls together, occasionally pausing to admire other unique finds. Your eyes lit up at a garland of shimmering beads hanging high above, just out of your reach. Before you could even try, Fyodor stepped forward, his movements fluid and precise, and plucked it effortlessly. He draped it lightly over his arm before turning to you, his expression unreadable but somehow fond. 

“Teamwork,” he commented dryly, earning a quiet laugh from you. 

As you browsed further, a bright red ornament shaped like a cheerful bear caught your attention. Without hesitation, you slipped it into the basket with a mischievous grin. When Fyodor noticed it moments later, he plucked it out and held it up between two fingers, his expression hovering between disapproval and amusement. 

“This one will disrupt your balance,” he remarked, the faintest trace of dry humor in his voice. 

“But it sparks joy,” you countered with a soft laugh, tilting your head as if daring him to disagree. 

He regarded the ornament for a moment longer before sighing, his faint smirk returning. “Unnecessary distractions,” he muttered, though he placed it back in the basket without further comment. “Still, it’s not without charm.” 

His quiet concession made your smile widen as you linked your arm with his again. “Thank you, Fyodor.” 

He glanced at you briefly, his eyes softening before he turned his attention back to the rows of decorations. “I simply indulge your whims,” he said, though the subtle warmth in his tone betrayed him. 

--- 

Back home, the tree stood proudly in the corner of the living room, its presence filling the space with the earthy scent of pine. You began unpacking the decorations while Fyodor set up the stand with the quiet precision you had come to expect from him. Even the simple act of adjusting the tree seemed graceful in his hands. 

“Before we start decorating, why don’t we drink some eggnog?” you suggested, stepping back to admire the tree’s placement. 

Fyodor glanced up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It will keep you warm after being in the cold. I’ll prepare it.” 

In the kitchen, the two of you worked in quiet harmony. Fyodor took charge of whisking egg yolks and sugar until they turned pale and creamy, his movements deliberate and exact. Meanwhile, you heated milk and spices on the stove, the warm aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg filling the air. The rhythmic sounds of his whisking and the occasional soft crackle from the stove added to the serene atmosphere. 

Unable to resist the tranquility of the moment, you stepped behind him and wrapped your arms lightly around his waist, leaning your head against his back. His steady movements didn’t falter, but his voice softened as he acknowledged your presence. 

“Comfortable?” he asked, a hint of amusement lacing his tone. 

“Very,” you murmured, letting the warmth of the scene seep into you. You lingered there, feeling the quiet strength in his posture, before he turned slightly, nudging you gently to take the mug he had prepared. Reluctantly, you let go, accepting the drink with a soft smile. 

As he handed you the mug with a faint smirk, his violet eyes glinted with quiet satisfaction. You sipped the warm drink, savoring the rich, spiced flavor. 

“It’s truly perfect,” you said, meeting his gaze over the rim of your mug. “You have a talent for making even simple things feel special.” 

His expression softened, and he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Perhaps it’s the company that elevates the experience, my dear.” 

Your smile widened as you set your mug down and began gathering ingredients for cookies. “Ready for the next round of teamwork?” 

Fyodor raised an eyebrow as you tossed an apron in his direction. “You expect me to assist with this?” 

“Yes,” you said, tying your own apron and flashing him a playful grin. “You’re a fast learner.” 

The two of you began mixing ingredients, your approaches naturally complementing each other, creating a rhythm that felt both efficient and effortless. As you sifted flour into a bowl, another mischievous idea struck. Without warning, you flicked a pinch of flour at him, leaving a pale dusting on his sleeve. 

He paused, slowly turning his head to regard you with an expression of calm menace. “You’re playing a dangerous game, lyubov’...” 

Laughing, you grabbed another pinch. “Am I?” 

With a swift motion, Fyodor dipped his fingers into the flour and smudged a streak across your cheek. You gasped, your eyes wide with mock indignation. As you reached for a small handful in retaliation, his hand closed lightly over yours, stopping you mid-motion. His violet eyes gleamed with a quiet gaiety. 

“Dear...” He spoke slowly, as if daring you to continue. “Do you really wish to escalate this?”  his voice calm, though the faintest trace of a smirk betrayed him. 

Of course, mischief took the better of you, and in the blink of an eye, the kitchen erupted into chaos. Flour flew through the air in soft, white clouds, settling like snow on the countertops, the floor, and both of you. Laughter spilled from your lips, a sweet, carefree sound that danced in the space between you.

The aprons did little to catch the fallout, now more a futile shield than anything useful. It didn’t matter. The room was filled with the rhythm of playful war—dashes of flour as ammunition, mischievous glances exchanged between you both, and the occasional breathless chuckle escaping your lips as one of you narrowly avoided a flour bomb.  

When you finally waved the white flag, Fyodor stepped closer, his voice calm but laced with quiet authority. “Do not start a war you cannot win,” he murmured, brushing a bit of flour from your hair. Despite his stern words, the glimmer of mirth in his eyes betrayed his amusement. 

“Then let's declare a truce,” you said, smiling up at him. His gaze softened as he nodded, and together, you returned to baking with a newfound warmth between you. 

--- 

After dinner and tidying up, the two of you finally began decorating the tree. The room was bathed in the warm, flickering glow of the fire in the hearth, casting a soft, golden light over everything. The air smelled faintly of pine and the lingering scent of the meal, creating an intimate, peaceful atmosphere as you carefully unpacked the ornaments and strings of lights. 

“The gold garland should go first,” Fyodor suggested, his fingers brushing over the shimmering strands before he draped them with precision along the branches. 

“Quite the expert on this decorating business,” you teased with a smile, stepping closer to adjust a section he’d already placed, your fingers brushing his as you did.

“I simply prefer a bit of order over chaos,” he replied with his usual calm, though a hint of amusement flickered at the corner of his lips, betraying his composed demeanor.

As you both worked together, the sounds of soft laughter and the faint rustle of ornaments filled the air. You held up a small ornament shaped like a bell, turning it in your hand with a questioning look. “Where should this go?” 

Fyodor stepped closer, his presence quiet but commanding. His hand brushed yours as he gently took the bell from you, his fingers warm against your skin. “Here,” he said, his voice softer than usual, placing it with deliberate care near the center of the tree. 

You hummed in satisfaction, stepping back to admire the spot he had chosen, feeling a small, unexpected warmth at how he treated each ornament with such attention. Reaching into the box again, you pulled out a bear ornament—one you’d picked up earlier that day. The little bear was a reminder of your shared experiences, and it felt like a quiet piece of your heart woven into the holiday. 

Without a word, Fyodor took it from you with a reverence that spoke volumes. His gaze lingered on the ornament for a moment, his fingers caressing it gently before he placed it with quiet care on the tree, the gesture speaking more than any words could. 

You reached into the box again, this time pulling out a sprig of mistletoe. Holding it playfully above your head, you couldn’t resist the chance to tease him once more. “And where does this go?” 

Fyodor’s eyes flicked to the mistletoe, and then back to you. The air between you shifted subtly, the playful tension between you both thickening. “A kiss?” he murmured, his voice laced with something deeper, something unspoken. 

“It’s bad luck if we don’t,” you replied, your voice teasing yet holding a hint of sincerity, knowing he wouldn’t let something so trivial go unacknowledged. 

Fyodor’s lips curled into a rare, genuine smile. He leaned in slowly, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours as his lips brushed against yours in a kiss that was both tender and featherlight. His kiss—how can one explain it? It felt like he had nothing to lose. Like his heartbeat was yours. Like someone who has just learned a foreign language and can only speak in the present tense, with you as the subject. Only now, only you.

The moment seemed to stretch, the world outside of the two of you fading away as he pulled back just enough to murmur softly against your lips, his voice low and warm. 

“We wouldn’t want that kind of luck,” he whispered, his smile lingering as his eyes met yours, holding you in a quiet moment of shared connection. 

--- 

The tree stood proudly in the corner of the living room, its soft, twinkling lights casting a warm glow throughout the space. The fire crackled in the hearth, its flames flickering and stretching across the walls, filling the room with a comforting, intimate atmosphere. You and Fyodor were curled up on the couch, a soft blanket draped over your legs, the heat from the fire adding a quiet coziness to the evening. 

Mugs of warm eggnog rested in your hands, the rich, spiced aroma filling the air as you took a slow sip, savoring the creamy warmth. Fyodor sat beside you, his hand wrapped around his own mug, a soft, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. There was a sense of peacefulness between you, the quiet sound of the fire and your soft laughter making everything feel still and right. 

You shifted a little, the anticipation bubbling in your chest as you leaned toward him, holding out a small gift. “I got you something,” you said quietly, your voice carrying a hint of excitement despite the calm of the evening. 

Fyodor’s violet eyes glinted as he glanced at you, eyebrow raised slightly in that characteristic way of his. “For me?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and glee. 

You nodded and passed him the neatly wrapped box. He took it with that ever-so-gentle touch of his, unwrapping the gift with careful precision, his eyes flicking between the paper and your face. When the box was open, he held up the fountain pen you had chosen for him—sleek, elegant, with intricate golden details that caught the firelight just right. 

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the pen’s smooth surface. “I’ll put it to good use,” he added, his usual stoicism softening further. 

“I know you enjoy writing,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips. “I thought it might be something you’d appreciate.” 

Fyodor looked at the pen for a long moment, his eyes dark with thought, before meeting your gaze. “It is perfect,” he said, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he added, “Thank you.” 

You grinned, feeling a warm rush of happiness at his words. “I’m glad you like it.” 

He cradled your cheek, his fingers tracing the soft skin with a tenderness born of awe. Then, his expression shifting to one of quiet amusement. He reached for a box of his own, setting his mug down beside him. You watched with curiosity as he gave you your gift.

When you opened it, you froze, your heart skipping a beat at the sight. Inside was a small, simple folder containing a series of documents. You blinked in confusion, slowly reaching for them as Fyodor’s eyes held your gaze with a steady, almost amused calm. 

“It’s a bit unconventional,” Fyodor said, his voice low and steady, “but you mentioned once that you would like to escape the city.” 

You unfolded the papers slowly, eyes widening as you realized what they were—legal documents, papers that transferred ownership of an entire mountain to you. A piece of land. A whole mountain. He had given you a literal escape from the city, just as you had hinted at so long ago. 

“A mountain?” you whispered, your voice almost incredulous. 

Fyodor’s lips curved into a faint smile. “You said you wanted to get away. I thought this might be a... fitting solution. Perhaps you’ll find it more peaceful.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity and thoughtfulness of the gift almost too much to comprehend. “A whole mountain…” you echoed, still in shock. “Well, I’ll have to plan my next vacation carefully now.” 

Fyodor’s smile deepened, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “I suspect you will.” 

You leaned into him, shaking your head in disbelief but also deeply touched by the enormity of his gift. “It’s… incredible,” you said, your voice soft and full of wonder. “I never imagined you’d actually go so far.” 

“I’ve always been one for unconventional gestures,” Fyodor remarked smoothly, his tone laced with that familiar calm but with a subtle warmth. He leaned in slightly, his lips grazing your temple as he placed a gentle kiss there. 

As you sat together, the warmth of the fire and the quiet serenity of the evening enveloping you, you realized that no material gift could compare to this moment. The mountain—while impressive—was just a symbol of the depth of his consideration, of how well he knew you, how carefully he listened to the quietest of your desires. 

You pulled the blanket around you both, sipping your eggnog as you let the peaceful atmosphere settle around you. Fyodor rested his arm around you, pulling you a little closer, and for a while, you just sat in contented silence, letting the fire and the quiet of the room fill the space between you. 

It was, without question, the kind of day dreams are made out of.

[lunarharp]

Very important conferences.

[bi-disastersoup]

Shifters - Part 2

I realize it has been almost a whole year since I posted part 1. I did some experimenting to see if I could get it all into one post this time instead of having to do two separate posts. Hopefully the formatting goes through okay...

Also, this probably goes without saying, but this was all done pre-DT.

Part 1

God I hope that posted in the right order lol

Anyway, I'm trying to work on crossposting stuff again. Wish me luck.

(Part 3)