#I think it's more about him standing up again. Like it happens a lot

[always-just-red]

Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌

The Night Before Christmas

L&DS Boys X Reader

(Recommended to read this fic first, if you haven't already!)

Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀

| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Right! Let’s try this again.”

You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.

Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.

Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.

Try not to think about it.

You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.

The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.

New season, new start.

“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”

Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”

“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.

“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh. 

“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”

“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.

The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”

There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”

Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”

He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”

None of your guests look perturbed by this.

“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”

“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.

“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”

The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”

“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”

“Second rule!” you chime.  

“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”

Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.

You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”

Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.

This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.

Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.

What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?

That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”

You’re excited about the last rule.

Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”

Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.

You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:

No smirking, sass, or general smugness.

A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”

You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.

“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.

“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.

You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”

There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”

“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.

“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”

You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.

Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.

So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.

You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.

…

“What are you doing?”

Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.

“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”

“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.

“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.

“No.”

“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.

Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.

To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.

“Absolutely not!”

Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.

You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.

“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”

Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.

“Give me the rest of it,” you command.

“Hmm?”

“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”

Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.

“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.

Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.

Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.

It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.

Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.

…

Rafayel isn’t looking too good.

Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.

You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.

“Would you like to go next?”

Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.

Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.

“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.

It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.

“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.

“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”

Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”

He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?

“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”

“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.

Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”

“As did I,” Zayne adds.

Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”

“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”

He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”

For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.

“That’s…” Zayne begins.

“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”

Sylus shrugs again.

“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”

“He lost it.”

“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”  

He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”

“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.

Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.

“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”

Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

“Show me!” you insist.

The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.

You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.

The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.

Everyone is silent.

“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.

You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.

But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”

“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”

“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.

“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”

“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.

“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.

Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.

That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.

…

“I can’t believe you made you.”

It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.

“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.

“Is this really how you see yourself?”

Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”

“Except the other guys saw it—”

“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.

You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”

“Make me.”

You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”

He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.

“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”

Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”

His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.

“Inappropriate.”

The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.

“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”

“Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.

Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”

He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.

“What did I miss?”

It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.

“Nothing,” Sylus answers.

“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.  

You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.  

Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”

…

“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms. 

What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.

“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.

Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?

He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation. 

“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…” 

Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.

Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.

His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper. 

You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers. 

What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you. 

Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.

Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins. 

“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him. 

Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.

They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy. 

Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer. 

“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?

Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish. 

You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes. 

“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours. 

Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.

“No,” he confers softly, distractedly. 

“No?”

“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.” 

On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up. 

“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs. 

And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.

Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.

Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance. 

“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you. 

Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight. 

Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)

Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too. 

“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm. 

It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s… 

Perfect. 

Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers. 

You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there. 

“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”

[inmyheaddd]

coffee sweetener — grayson hawthorne x reader

a/n: the way i have like 6 other fics i'm working on, this was so cute though I had to write it asap!! thank u sm for the req! wc: 1.8k summary: one of your regulars at your café, grayson— who happens to be insanely handsome, comes in today like usual. but strangely enough, things go a tad further than the surface level small talk you usually have.

a familiar suit clad blonde walked in the near empty cafe you worked in. there was a soft hum of some chatter, but not much, as the early morning sun filtered through the large windows.

some people glanced up from their tables for a second, and some people glanced up at him for a lot more than a small second. could you blame them? no, not really. 

his eyes immediately found yours as he walked up to the cash register which you stood behind, and you found yourself averting your gaze involuntarily. 7:14 AM the time read. there was only one thing that made the early morning shift worth it, and it seemed to be standing right infront of you now. 

today his suit was gray, you noticed. it made his eyes stand out so much more, you nearly stumbled over your words. “you again,” you said, narrowing your eyes jokingly and biting back a smile.

he smiled the tiniest smile, shrugging as if to say ‘what can i say’ before pretending to look up at the menu to order.

“what would you recommend today?” he spoke smoothly, a stark contrast to some of the other people that would come in and simply shout at you.

“why does that matter?” you teased, tilting your head to the side before you looked down at the cash register for a moment and realised you’d already started putting in his usual order. “you get the same thing every time.” 

“'there seem to be no specials, but I'm in the mood for a change.'' he said, his grey eyes doing a once over on you. god, how you wish you weren’t wearing that horrible work apron right now. ''I can be a man full of surprises.”

you let out a small chuckle, “i find that hard to believe.”

everything about him screamed precise and orderly. that was partly what intrigued you so much when you first met him. the fact that he was incredibly gorgeous wasn’t so bad either. 

you expected him to get a black coffee, maybe a croissant if he was feeling extra adventurous that day, but no a large americano and a muffin. he would also get a blueberry scone or two some days, but always get it to go, and never eat it himself.

you almost wondered if he was ordering for someone else, maybe a girlfriend. but again, no. he sat alone with just his work laptop, having his americano and muffin. 

“is that so?” he countered, a slight raise of one of his brows and an amused smile playing on his lips. 

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t smiling yourself. “very much so.” 

you were thankful there weren’t any customers in line behind him that would yell at you for taking too long. but even if there was a rude customer, you doubted they yell.

grayson had one of those sort of intimidating presences that made you think he was born to be a ceo or something. now that he’d been a regular for a couple months, that intimidation mostly wore off on you. you just thought he was a pretty cute guy with an obsession for suits. 

“i suppose i’ll have to prove you wrong then,” he said that in a way that made you think he proves people wrong very often. he adjusted one of his suits lapels, inadvertently drawing your eyes to his arms. “so i ask again, what do you recommend?” 

tearing your eyes away from his arms and back to his face, you asked, “you’re really going with this? okay, fine.” you raised your eyebrows like he had challenged you, but you still couldn’t wipe that stupid smile off your face. 

you rested your hands on the counter, “uhm,” you thought, humming slightly, “well, i usually get a refresher— like the strawberry or dragon fruit ones, or i get a hot chocolate.” you said, then a thought sparked in your mind. “oh! and a chocolate chip cookie. and a cake pop.” 

you bit back a grin— you did not get cake pops or chocolate chip cookies regularly, but the image of grayson with a cake pop or cookie made you want to laugh for some reason. 

“alright then,” he said, ''may i get a medium strawberry refresher, and a,'' he paused, saying the words like they almost pained him, ''two... two chocolate chip cookies, please.''

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

grayson left with his drink and cookie, sitting down at a table a bit further in the back, but he was still conveniently in your eyeline. he opened his briefcase, which you hadn't even realised he was holding. it seemed so natural for him to hold, you hadn't looked twice. you caught yourself looking at him frequently, and sometimes he would glance up from his laptop and lock eyes with you for a moment.

he came up to the counter a few minutes later, his drink finished and thrown away, and a cookie and a half left, adjusting his suit jacket with one hand, briefcase in the other. you fake sighed in annoyance as if his very presence was pestering you-- quite the contrary, really.

he only smiled in response.

''well?'' you said, wiping imaginary dust off of your apron, ''how was it? you sticking to the muffins?''

''I have to say, the refresher wasn't horrible. it was quite nice, actually.'' he said, and you gave him a teasing look that was like, 'told you so!' before he continued. ''however, the cookies were far too sweet. i’m sorry, you seem to have terrible culinary taste.''

you fake scoffed, painting the picture of being truly offended. ''okay, can i tell you a secret?'' you leaned forward, and he entertained you by doing the same, motioning for you to continue. ''yes, you're right. these cookies are absolutely horrible, i agree. but i make much better ones.''

amusement flashed across his eyes, like he guessed you had picked out the not-so-good snacks for him on purpose. “really?” he prompted, a dimple flashing in one of his cheeks as he smiled.

“yes,” you swore seriously with a smile that contrasted that no-nonsense tone, “really.” 

“i’d like to be the judge of that.” he said, his voice low and teasing and- god, you could listen to it forever.

“trust me, i’m not lying. i’ll bring some to work tomorrow, just remind me to actually bake them. i have such bad memory.” 

“and how exactly would i be able to remind you?” he tilted his head to one side slightly, a teasing glint in his eye like he could see where you were getting at, and was entertaining it. 

your heart was beating crazy fast, but it was time to finally make a move on this guy. the cash register flirting was simply not enough anymore. you hoped he felt whatever chemistry you were feeling too-- and that you weren't misreading things. then again, you almost failed the subject, so it wouldn't be surprising if you were still getting it wrong.

“why don’t i give you my number," you started, feeling your hands get clammy, ''and you could text me after my shift?” 

his dimples flashed a second time, his eyes doing another once over on you. okay, surely you couldn't misread that one.

you felt your cheeks get hot as he spoke once again, his voice so smooth and low that it fit perfectly with the serenity of the morning and café. “i think i’d like that very much, and that i'll be looking forward to tomorrow.” 

biting back a smile and ignoring the way your stomach erupted with seemingly a million butterflies , you somehow managed to say, “alright, then. i think i'd like it too.''

you wrote down your number on his receipt, ignoring the way your hands trembled with excitement and nervousness, drawing a little smiley face next to it.

holy shit, you were never like this. your heart raced as you watched his eyes find the bottom of the receipt and give you a tiny smile. you watched him sit down an his work laptop, then pull out his phone, type something in, and put it back in his suit's pocket.

ugh, you would break every rule and look at your phone right now, except you were on your last strike for using your phone in the middle of shifts, and you did not want to get fired from this little coffee shop for the sole reason of seeing that one blonde man every morning and having your usual banter. 

''wait,'' you called out, ''what are you going to do with the rest of the cookies? you said, ''don't tell me you'll throw those absolute delicacies away.'' you added jokingly, and grayson simply shook his head, looking down with a slight laugh with a single blonde strand of hair falling into his face.

''I'm keeping them for my younger brother,'' he replied, a fondness in his voice, ''he's quite something, with his extreme love for baked goods.''

you hummed in thought, suddenly realising this was the first time you'd heard about him having brothers. this was really the first conversation about anything that didn't involve small talk and café related things, and you found yourself wondering what it would be like to continue learning more about him. getting to know eachother.

''I think those atrocious cookies will change that love he has,'' you mumbled under your breath without thinking as you shook your head.

you heard grayson chuckle, ''what was that?'' he teased.

''god, i'm gonna get myself fired. forget i said anything.'' you groaned as you covered your face with your hands, already feeling your cheeks heat up again.

''that would prove very difficult,'' he replied smoothly as you put your hands back down. ''I find it near impossible to forget anything you say to me.''

if you thought your cheeks were heated a few seconds ago, they were blazing now. you averted your gaze for a quick second, but his gaze didn't leave yours.

chuckling slightly, you managed to speak without stumbling. "should i start worrying about all my bad jokes being permanently filed away?"

"bad jokes?" he quipped, "i've yet to hear one from you.'' he did not let up on his charm for a single moment, a laugh escaping your lips before he resumed. ''but if you insist, i’ll let you know when you make your first."

'''I'll see you tomorrow, then?''

you nodded, muttering a small 'bye' as you watched grayson step out of the café, the sound of the door chiming behind him.

the anticipation was unbearable, and despite knowing you were on thin ice with your manager, your hand inched toward your phone on the counter.

a quick glance over your shoulder confirmed no one was watching. you unlocked your phone, heart racing as you checked your notifications.

there it was—a new text, well, one from about 10 minutes ago.

Unknown Number:

Already counting down to tomorrow. 🙃 Don’t forget those cookies you talk of, I'm holding you to it.

you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you quickly saved the number, your hands trembling slightly. you almost let out a snort as his emoji choice before typing, glancing again to make sure the coast was clear.

you

i definitely won’t be forgetting now that you've texted I just may be looking forward to tomorrow too 🫣

you were thankful the place was practically empty, because surely you looked like a crazy person, smiling to yourself. you set the phone back down, trying to suppress the giddy warmth spreading through you. the day suddenly didn’t feel quite so long anymore.

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee @hijabi-desi-bookworm @goldi-1-graysons-version @saigonharrington @peppapigsposts @thoughtdaughter3 

[vengefultakeover]

In Need of a Master

The rock hit my head with thunk and it sent me to the ground, cluthing the side of my skull while everyone rushed around me. I was in the parking lot when the round pebble nearly creacked my skull open. I could see it under my car, a circular opject, smooth, grey and speckled. I shook it off, thinking it was just some accidental debris.

"Are you alright?" I was asked by an elderly woman. There was someone behind them on the phone, calling the cops or maybe an ambulance?

"I'm fine!" I laughed it off, dusting my pants off from the asphalt sticking to the fibers. I scurried over to my car after picking up my groceries and tossed them into the back. The onlookers were shaking their head and their worried faces started to disappear as they went back to their normal lives thining nothing of it. I unlocked my car and then reached under, feeling around for the pebble until I felt it against my finger tips.

"Gotcha!" I said, pulling it out and turning it over in my hand. I felt it prick my finger, a spot of blood appearing on the outside. It disappeared as it quickly absorbed into the stone.

I am in need of a master. Are you the one? I heard behind. I spun around thinking it was right behind me and finding nothing but more rows of cars. I looked down at the pebble and shook my head thinking it may have just been the result of the thing hitting my head. I slid it into my pocket and forgot all about it on the drive home.

My roommate was chugging a glass of water in front of the sink when I dropped all my groceries on the counter. He was shirtless, as usual, and I watched him acknowledge me before going into his room. I was putting things away, the assigned spots around the kitchen, in the cupboard, and the refridgerator. Devin was playing video games in his room and I took this moment of solitude to read a book on the balcony. I looked across the way at the building and remembered the stone in my pocket just as it slid out and bounced along the ground. I picked it up, and slid my fingers over it. I set it down on the table, returning to my book when it vibrated.

"You are my new master." It had a voice and it sounded like my own.

"What the fuck?" I backed away from it, standing there in shock before getting closer again.

"You are my master. I am here to do what you will." It said, vibrating again.

"What are you?" I asked.

"I am a species from another world, subservient to one. My previous master is dead." It vibrated. I picked it up. Turning it over to see if I could find where a speaker may have been hidden.

"What do I do?" I asked.

"I am in need of a host. In order to serve you better I must take on your species' form. I do not normally look like this. This pebble is a camoflauge tactic. I was picked up by someone and thrown in your direction. I apologize, master, for any pain I may have inflicted before making myself known." It vibrated in my hands. I thought of my roommate when it finally clicked he needed a host. He was kind of an asshole, worked out a lot, and barely paid rent on time.

"Maybe Devin?" I said.

"Yes, Master." It said and then remained quiet. I thought it might do something, tell me what to do, but I returned to my book. I would occasionally peer over the top of my book. I took it inside with me when it finally got dark, and placed it on my beside table before doing my nightly routine. I thought maybe it would do something, especially since I could hear Devin's snore through the walls, but it was just there. I even said goodnight to it before clicking off the light and going to sleep.

The following morning it was gone. I thought maybe I had dreamt it. A concussion dream I was experiencing throughout the evening, but I noticed a slimy substance on the floor. I followed it out of my room, careful not to step on it just in case it was something dangerous. The trail led out into the hal and then into Devin's room. The door was wide open and I could hear something happening inside. Devin was asleep when I peered around the corner, but I could see something much larger next to the bed. It was curled up, looking over Devin.

The creature suddenly grew arms, long tentacles that curled and wiggled until they latched on to Devin's body. He was still asleepm his arm above his head and the blanket barely covering him. The thing slithered on top of him, leaving a slimy trail in its wake before the tentacles became taught. The head of the creature pushed against his stomach, now startling Devin awake as he tried to push the thing off in panic. His stomach seemed to open up for the creature, slurping its ways inside of his belly button and with every amount of bulbous form slipped inside the less Devin was struggling. His hands started to slip, suddenly losing control and then slamming against it. Devin's eyes rolled into the back of his head as the creature was almost in, the last of it wriggling and shaking as it forced itself into him. his abs tightened and his belly button slurped as the creature popped inside. Devin's body bounced on the bed and then his back arched before collapsing back into his sleeping pose.

"Devin?" I asked, making myself known and standing at the foot of his bed.

"If that's what you wish to call me, Master." He opened his eyes and looked down at himself.

"Are you okay?" I tilted my head.

"I am perfect. This form will hold me as you wished." He looked over at me, lifting his arm above his head with a smile as I walked around.

"That's awesome." I said.

"I am glad you think so master." He responded. I wanted to touch him so bad. Reach out and worship that body I had been jerking off to night after night.

"What now?" I asked.

"I am yours to control, Master." He said. I won't lie, I loved that he called me Master. I loved it so much that when it came out of Devin's mouth it made my cock bounce. I reached out, touching his chest as he looked at me with those obedient eyes.

"I see you like this body." He flexed it, his pecs tensing under my palms. When I rand my hand down his chest to his abs he tesned them and I jumped on top of him. His cock was pulsing under the blanket.

"I do. You will do anything I say?" I pushed my hands into the blanket and felt his cock. My fingers squeezed it which made his eyes flutter.

"Yes, Master. That feels good." He groaned as I pulled on his balls.

"Okay. As much as I like you calling me Master, don't do it in public." I squeezed his cock and it made him moan.

"Yes, Master." He said as he writhed underneath me.

I leaned in close and whispered, "I want you to beg me to fuck you. Pretend to be Devin." I leaned back, but he didn't let. He gripped my arms and pulled me in close, kissing me.

"Please fuck, bro. I have wanted you inside me since we moved in together." He said, sliding his hand down his body. He pulled himself out from underneath me and perked his ass up.

"Since we moved in, huh?" I said, throbbing.

"Yes. I need that cock inside me." He reached back, pulling his cheeks apart. His hole puckered as I leaned in and gave it a lick. He moaned out, his whole body tensing as I teased him with my tongue. I made him turn around, his mouth drooling as my cock bobbed in front of his face.

"Suck it." I said. His mouth enveloped it and I leaned my head back as I let out a moan and as he sucked I could already feel my balls churning from the pleasure. I pushed him away from me, my cock wet from his saliva.

"Beg." I said. He turned around, his ass up in the air and he pulled his cheeks part for me one last time.

"Please. I need it. This fucking hole needs it, bro. I'm all yours." He was almost whining and it was enough to entice me. I pushed my cock inside, feeling his tight ass against me as it slid into him. He gasped and gripped onto the edged of the bed, the springs creaking as I fucked him hard. His hole felt amazing on my cock, especially when he clenched it and my cock throbbed against it while sliding in and out of him.

"Tell me you want me." I pulled him up, my cock pulsing as I slid my hands around him and along his body. I squeezed his muscles, enjoying them in my hands.

"I want you to fill me up with your fucking load, bro. This ass is yours. This body is yours." He flexed for me as I felt him up, pushing him back down and holding onto his waist as I felt my cock nearing the explosive end. I was fucking him hard when I felt my whole body trembling and I blew my load inside his hole. The image of the creature squeezing into his body flashed in my mind. I was shaking from the adrenaline, from having this power over his body and we collapsed onto the bed. I was on top of him, kissing his back as he smiled.

"I'm happy to please you, Master." He said, my cock still lodged inside his hole. He playfully tightened himself around it and I whimpered, enjoying him. I pushed myself over and looked over at him as he laid there, eyes staring at me.

"Okay, so, I think you're going to be my boyfriend. At least pretend or I don't know." I said, my hand resting on his back as he rest his head on his crossed arms.

"Of course, Master. That will be easy. You're much nicer than any other Master I have had." He said.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Well, from here on out I want you to have a little freedom. Enjoy this body and also blend in as him. He still has to pay rent." I chuckled. The creature didn't understand the joke and laughed too.

Years later and he's still inside. Enjoying the pleasured of his human form and every chance we get, no matter where we are, he reminds me he's inside. Plus, I love having him around even if I am his Master.

[pauli-writes]

ever since 2.7 the sunday short(s) you made live rent free in my head.... how would reader react to him joining the ae after all of that 😣😣

warning: idk what to write here, themes of trauma and healing?

pairing: sunday x reader

author‘s note: thank u anon for waking me up from my hiatus with this. i was so creatively drained, but this request gave me new life. im probably gonna do all of the event stuff in the new year, so you can still request on that if you want. also happy belated holidays to all of you!

part i ☆ part ii

“no.”

“but reader-“

“i said no. i don’t want him here.”

march 7th and the trailblazer were looking at you with wide eyes, while welt, himeko and dan heng were a little more understanding to your seemingly drastic reaction to the newcomer of the astral express, who at the moment was standing awkwardly a little further away from the group.

“maybe we should talk about this in private?” dan heng suggested, but you only brushed him off.

“there is nothing to talk about. you asked me a question and i gave you an answer, i’m sorry if it doesn’t satisfy you.” with that you left the parlour car, the door closing shut behind you with a heavy thud. there was a tense silence that followed as the remaining members of the astral express exchanged worried glances.

himeko was the first to speak. “they’ll come around. this is just a lot for them.”

“himeko is right,” welt added calmly, “they’ll talk when they’re ready.”

later that day you were ghosting around the party car, unable to fall asleep. you supposed a snack and something to drink would do the trick. the earlier encounter was still heavy in your mind, replaying over and over again like a broken cassette tape. you know you were being mean and unreasonable, but you were just too overwhelmed with emotion to think reasonably.

as you got your drink and snack from shush, you turned to walk back to your room only to find sunday, staring out the window. the sight stirred something in you, a strange feeling of nostalgia, melancholy and hurt all mixed into one. you wanted to walk away, return to your room and never speak of this again, but just in that split second he turned his head and the two of you locked eyes for a split second, before he turned back toward the window. a moment of silence passed between the two of you, before he spoke up.

“the view is beautiful…” his voice was subdued, almost sad as he spoke, a stark contrast to the assured way he talked previously.

“i suppose it is…” you replied awkwardly, “i haven’t payed attention in a while.”

another stretch of silence passed between the two of you. you pondered if you should just leave, avoid the awkwardness, but before you could walk away he spoke up again.

“i apologise for any distress i caused you with my request to join the express. that was never my intention.” he turned away from the window and looked at you properly. you could see his expression, it was different that before, he looked sadder, remorseful even. this was a different sunday, that much was clear to you now.

you sighed and avoided his gaze uncomfortably, “you never mean to, but you still do it…”

sunday’s face fell at your words as a slight realisation fell upon him, he let out a small humourless laugh. “of course, i owe you an apology for that too…” he said mostly to himself, before clearing his throat and properly addressing you. “i see now that my actions were selfish. keeping you inside, wasn’t for you, it was for me… i know this apology doesn’t make up for what did, but i hope it makes traveling with me… easier.”

you looked to the ground silently. your emotions were all over the place at the moment. his apology didn’t help. there was a time were you hated him, but as you distanced yourself from what happened and looked back, you knew that sunday wasn’t solely responsible for what happened, his environment, the people around him, shaped him into that person. so, couldn’t blame him entirely anymore.

you took a deep breath and looked up at him. “i don’t what to feel anymore… the astral express was the first place where I was free to do as i please, it’s my home… somehow it feels wrong having you here.” you paused for a moment, looking for the right words, “but my reaction earlier was harsh, i can see you’re making an attempt to redeem yourself and that’s… comforting. i just need time and space to… to process everything.”

sunday looked at you, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “of course, i understand. thing like that take time.”

for the first time that day you smiled, only a little, but a smile all the same. sunday couldn’t remember the last time he saw you smile, but he was glad to see that again. “thank you… well, i’m off to bed then. good night.”

he straightened himself and nodded, returning the small smile. “good night, reader.”

[firegirl888101]

Insatiable Madness

Diverted-Dimension (Christmas 2024)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

Why am I back here again!? Take me back to the canon!

Reader is Gender Neutral!

"Finally!" You cheered, stepping back to admire the Christmas tree in the corner of your living room.

"It looks good." Pantalone commented, looking at all the trinkets placed on the tree. "Although, I believe this gadget would look better placed there... And this bauble, yes, hmm, perhaps on the branch above rather than--"

Y'know, it always takes one person to ruin everyone else's happiness doesn't it? Especially when their name is Pantalone. You rolled your eyes, ignoring his fiddling with what you considered a complete and beautiful tree.

Let's just hope Columbina doesn't see him fiddling with her decorations. For Pantalone's sake, you pray she takes five extra minutes in the bathroom so he can have a safe getaway when he's finished with something he sees as necessary.

Anyway, you've been preparing for Christmas day tomorrow. You wanted to put up the tree earlier, not wanting to leave it this late, however being busy babysitting and making sure all the Harbingers go to work with a happy mood sure takes up a lot of time. Not only does it feel like you're playing a very dangerous version of the Sims, but more importantly, it sucks that when all of them leave you have to entertain the others that don't go to work in the first place.

"It feels like the tree is missing something." Dottore chimed in, standing back with a finger on his bottom lip.

"Please don't say that, The Regrator is already driving himself mad with his own activities." Arlecchino stated 

Ignoring those two... They're right, something seems wrong with the tree. But you used everything in the box, what could be missing --

Oh, of course! How could you forget!?

"It's missing an angel on top!" You pointed out, walking over to the Christmas box and rummaging around.

After a while of digging and loud crashing noises consisting of you throwing out whatever you thought could also be added, you found a dusty china angel missing a hand.

"Agh, this won't do." You scolded yourself. "We'll have to go with a star instead. I'll have to cut one out later."

"Cut one out? How are you going to cut a star out of the sky?" Childe asked with a bewildered expression.

"They mean they'll cut one out of paper you damn idiot." Scaramouche glared out of the corner of his eye.

"I often see the Children of the Hearth doing something similar when I pass by..." Signora thought to herself out loud, leaning on one of the arms of the sofa.

"Yes, the children love cutting out different shapes and animals. It just so happens stars are one of the easiest things to make." Arlecchino nodded in agreement.

If it's so damn easy, why don't you do it for me?? You grumbled with an angry grin. It took you a few days to learn how to cut a good looking star out of paper due to your clutzy fingers, how dare they call it 'easy' in front of you!

"Hm? Why do you look angry at me?"

"No reason." You answered her, sharply turning your head away from her tilted one. "Do I even have any paper left? Ugh, I might have to use lined paper and paint it using gold nail varnish if push comes to shove."

"Absolutely not." Sandrone interrupted you. "That sounds messy and unnecessarily more difficult than if you just bought yellow card."

"And where do you propose I get this yellow card? Out of my arse?"

"No." She looked repulsed. "The shop? I saw some in an isle."

"When and why did you go into the corner shop?" You caressed your head, sighing when hearing her solution.

"That's unimportant."

"Sure it is. Anyway, I need to start thinking about how I'm going to cook Christmas dinner--"

"Oh no you don't." Scaramouche interrupted you with a cold voice. "The last time you cooked a genuine meal that didn't include those 'instant noodles', you poisoned everyone who has an organic stomach."

"No way, the Balladeer cares enough about me to not want to see me bedridden again?" Childe gushed with a chuffed smile.

"That's not important!" You raised your voice with flushed cheeks. "How did you know that what I cooked was 'instant' noodles? I never told you that!"

"I asked a staff member in the shop down the street when I saw the exact same package for sale in one of the pasta isles."

"Oh my god, how many of you have been in that damn shop without me!?"

The room stayed silent, some looking away with a cringe whilst others looked at you with unbothered faces.

“Do I count? I’ve never left the house.” Capitano raised his hand innocently.

"Unbelievable." You cried to yourself dramatically.

"I can't believe he's still fiddling." Pulcinella sighed with judging eyes, watching the banker radically move around the tree mumbling to himself like a robot given an impossible task.

"So this is what happens when you don't give him something to do after a long period of time. Lesson learnt." Pierro sweated, coughing into a clenched fist with shut eyes.

"It's not my fault." He turned to the group with hysterical eyes, every so often one twitching. Considering his eyes are always closed, you’re impressed that his mania has managed to do the impossible. "The Decider won't let me do one of the things I'm best at, manipulating an economy. Denying me access to undermining this country's government is making me go mad!"

"What a lunatic." You ignored him, eyeing his antics as nothing more than a regular occurrence at this point.

"So, we're up for cutting a star for the tree then?" You turned back to the group.

"It's your decision and your tree, so of course." Signora shrugged.

"I'm baaaack!~" Columbina burst through the door like a canary, singing with a pep in her step.

She stopped when she saw Pantalone running around the tree, her energy from earlier vanishing as fast as a bird when hearing a gunshot.

"Erm... It's not what it looks like." He turned around slowly, feeling her menacing and dangerous energy piercing his back.

He put his hands in the air, his smile shaking in fear.

"It better not be what it looks like." Her smile contrasted his own. "Because it seems you've been touching something I specifically warned all not to touch.~"

"He's dead, he's actually dead." Childe commented on the sidelines.

"Amen."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Sandrone left to go get yellow card whilst Columbina forced you to tear down the Christmas tree and start decorating it from scratch. She said it was a punishment for you also, due to letting him rearrange it despite hearing her warning. What bullshit, she just couldn't be bothered to do it again. Anyway, Capitano helped you hold the christmas tree up so you could wrap the tinsel around it without trouble. What a nice guy… even though he technically isn’t helping you with what counts most.

"I don't understand why we're cutting out stars. Can't we just use me as the angel?" Columbina giggled to herself.

"No, that would be weird." You frowned at her. "What I don't understand is why everyone is cutting stars with me. Didn't the majority of you say this is going to be boring? Do something else!"

"The 'something else' you're talking about was also boring." Scaramouche picked up his pair of scissors, tracing his finger on the sharp side.

“I’d much rather cut something up than count how many particles are in a cloud.”

“What does that even mean!?”

“Anyway,” Dottore coughed with an irritated stretching smile. “I propose we make this a competition.”

“Of all the childish suggestions–” Arlecchino was cut off.

“I agree, I agree!” Columbina nodded with a happy smile. “It can’t be too hard, maybe we should have a reward for who wins the competition?”

“Although I find the idea of a competition to be senseless, a reward does sound quite… boosting.” Pantalone thought out loud, a greedy smile on his lips.

“This is not happening.” You sighed to yourself, head planted onto the table with exasperation radiating off of your slumped form.

“But what reward could we put on offer? I’m not against competition, heck, I encourage it! But what could we all fight for which would allow us to fight at our strongest the whole time?” Childe leaned against his chair.

The Harbingers thought to themselves, the room erupting in silence with the occasional cough or sniff. All of a sudden, their heads turned and looked at you. Feeling their gazes burning into you, you looked up from the table to see them expectantly eyeing you.

“Ohhh no. No way in whatever thoughts you’re all sharing am I getting involved in this. I’m not becoming some trophy you can flaunt for the rest of the evening.” You denied them.

“But you’re the perfect solution!” Childe playfully pouted.

“Quit torturing them, Childe.” Signora scolded the young ginger. “I propose this; let whoever wins ask The Decider one question. That question can be related to anything, the future or the past.”

“Hmm, but how would we know whether The Decider wouldn’t lie to us?” Dottore suggested.

“I’m staying out of this one.” Pulcinella put his hands in the air, leaving the room. “You youngsters go have fun, I’ll sit this one out.”

“Rooster, I would suggest staying to supervi–”

“So you can go back to that dirty office you keep closing yourself in to work? No thank you, I shall handle your paperwork today. You supervise this time.” He gave the director a harsh glare, making sure to purposefully hit him with his walking stick before walking away.

“Sometimes I can’t tell whether the Rooster is secretly a teenage girl or is just simply strange…” Pierro muttered to himself. Sighing.

“How about both, mixed in with the fact that he’s a psycho with more control issues than you think.”

“Hm? You think even more than the Regrator?”

“Deffo.” You clicked your tongue. “He just hides it because he’s a champ like that.”

“Don’t change focus!” Scaramouche raised his voice. “I order you to answer me. You will tell the truth to the victor of the contest, no?”

“Hold on, didn’t we agree to ask our own questions once we deliver them to the Tsaritsa?” Childe questioned.

“That was just to get you to not hound The Decider back when we first found them.” 

“Fine.” You agreed with an eye roll, secretly crossing your fingers behind your back like a five year old. You’ll probably just make something up that sounds accurate when the winner asks their question. You’re betting that Sandrone will win this though, this kind of has something to do with her job after all.

“It’s decided then!” Columbina clapped in delight. “The Decider and The Director will be our judges. We’ll work for 10 minutes to create a star suitable to be put on the tree, then will be judged to see who has the best!”

“This is not gonna go well…” You said, trying your best to cover the shaky smile on your face. This is the best! You’ll just pick someone who won’t ask a question you don’t mind answering! Thank you Columbina for giving you this chance.

“You’re telling me!” Pulcinella shouted from the other room, sarcasm oozing like tar glooping down a slope.

“Count us down, count us down!” Columbina couldn’t contain her excitement, her body practically vibrating.

“Alright, alright… Ugh, I regret this… On your marks, get set, cut!”

“Seriously? ‘Cut’?” Pierro turned to you.

“What was I supposed to say!?”

The Harbingers sat at the table immediately started cutting, the sound of card shredding and small pieces emitting everywhere. Guess who’s going to have to clean that up? You thought with a frown, watching card pile up in the small crevasses in your carpet.

Looking around at the Harbinger’s cutting paper, you realise one was just sitting there watching the others work.

“Uhh, Capitano? Aren’t you going to begin?” You asked him.

“No.” His deep voice answered in return. “I am not going to join this display, no matter how entertaining it will be for you. Firstly, my fingers won’t fit in the holes of the scissors. And secondly, I have no question to ask you so entering just for victory would be pointless.”

“Brother, your fingers can’t be that big.” You deadpanned, letting your mind wander a bit too far with the thought.

He simply crossed his arms and continued to watch the others, ignoring you from then on. Oh well, he’s not interfering or arguing back like a child so you’ll let it happen. Besides, it looks like he quite likes watching so it’s the least you could do.

Pierro put an arm on your shoulder, getting your attention. You turned to make eye-contact and saw him hesitating in what to say to you.

“Do you need a defibrillator? You look like you’re having a seizure.”

“Who do you think is going to make the best star?” He said after, not registering your insult you said a few seconds prior.

“Wow. Did it really take you that long to think of what to say to me?”

“Quiet.” He warned you.

“Hmm… Who do I think is going to win?” You mumbled out loud, pretending to give it some thought. “Screw it, I’m not going to pretend. Sandrone’s going to make the best one because she does this kind of thing as a job.”

“Hah!” She guffawed after hearing your predictions, continuing her cutting with a content smile.

“Buuuut, that’s not what makes a star special. It isn’t just perfection, but passion and hope. I want to see how unique some people will make it… within reason of course.”

“I wasn’t expecting such an intelligent reply.” Pierro sweated. “Here I was, ready to scold you.”

“It’s like that’s all you can ever bloody think about when it comes to me.” You deadpanned.

“You give me no choice half of the time.” He sighed with a shaking head. “Your choices are often questionable and must be corrected. Would you rather have a physical punishment instead?”

Is this guy nuts?

“No… No, I would not.”

“That's what I thought.” He turned to look at the competition.

“Decider, help me out here.” Scaramouche clicked his fingers, beckoning you like an old woman would to her juvenile cat.

“Do I look like your pet?” You recoiled in disgust.

“I’ll let you leave the house to go to that dumb park you like if you help me right now.”

“I’m on my way!” You ran over to his side, peering down to see the mess of a star he’s created. It’s not bad at all, it’s actually your style - you like it a lot! What on earth could he need help for?

When you peered down to his design, you felt a cold unnatural hand grasp the side of your head and pull it closer to his face.

“Tell me how you like them.” He whispered. “Would you rather me add more detail or remove it? And don’t lie to me or I’ll kill you.”

“Pierro, The Balladeer is cheating! He’s bribing The Decider!” Sandrone pushed her chair back and stood up dramatically, pointing her scissors at the offender.

“Hey, no fair!” Childe whined. “If he gets to bribe them, let me bribe them too!”

“If anyone is to bribe the Decider, it should be me. I am the richest man in Teyvat after all.” Pantalone shrugged whilst lazily cutting.

“Correction: Ningguang is the richest in terms of all. You only count as the richest when it comes to being a man.” You pointed out. “And besides, I would never take your dirty money.”

Piero coughed loudly to quieten everyone down, all in the room turning to him like a deer in headlights. He waited until everyone stopped complaining and then spoke.

“Do continue with your cutting, you have less than a minute left.” He gestured to the timer. “And no bribery. The first to test my patience and even attempt to do so will be put under experimentation during the rest of our stay here and our return.”

“Oh, by all means, bribe away!” Dottore laughed at the Harbinger’s around him, silently cutting.

Huh? Less than a minute left? But when you last looked at the time they had at least 8 minutes left. You checked the timer once more, and found fat greasy fingerprints on buttons that weren’t there prior. You turned to the old man with an incredulous face, mouth wide open. He caught your staring, and put a finger on his lips with a small almost unnoticeable smile.

Pierro, you cheeky bastard. I love you for this.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The stars were laid out on the dining table, each Harbinger stood behind their own creations. Sadly but also un-sadly, some Harbingers were too slow and couldn’t finish their star in time. By some, you mean Pantalone and surprisingly Sandrone.

“I’m not going to hear the end of this.” Sandrone had her face buried in her hands, looking at her creation with malice. “In defence, I value time to craft perfection. Announcing a set time dampens my methods and results in mechanics such as this one. Ugh, what a waste!” She threw the craft off of the table, the star unravelling itself immediately.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course.” You sarcastically waved at her embarrassment. “And you, Pantalone? What’s your excuse?”

“The scissors you gave me were tampered with! I call for–”

“So I’m the problem? Okay, whatever…”

You walked down the table, looking at each star neutrally then nodding and moving onto the next. Now, you’re not an expert, but did they really think you wouldn’t notice? They all look the exact same! They all look like copied versions of Scaramouche’s design! When watching him try to bribe you, they must have thought you liked his design the best and copied him to have a fair chance. Well, they’re wrong! You’re just going to pick the person who will give you the least trouble when answering their question, jokes on them!

…That was your original plan. After looking at all the stars, you felt a new motivation when noticing one person didn’t copy and stuck to their own principles. Also they may or may not be the only person to not take this seriously and you want to mess with the others a little bit. Pierro will agree with you, he’s the type to disregard any copycats so he won’t have trouble with your choice at all.

“Okay, I’ve decided on my winner.” You announced, stepping back to view the expectant Harbingers.

“Arlecchino, you win.”

“WHAT!?”

“But why?” She asked, not looking surprised or pleased. “I could care less about an answer to a question, nor do I care about winning this childish competition.”

“That’s actually why I picked you. And because your star is an original design - sorry Scara, but uhh, you might have won if the others didn’t copy.”

“Of course.” He grumbled, glaring at the Harbingers staring at him. “One day, I’m going to murder all of you fools and sell your parts to people far worse than Dottore! I’ll get back at all of you for ruining my chances!”

“Anyway,” You tuned his violent voice out. “Yeah, you’re the winner. Pierro, what do you think?”

“...I agree.” He said in a quieter tone. “Now, I will be returning to my office to continue what’s left of my work… and review what The Rooster has already completed.”

As he was walking away, you turned back to notice the majority of Harbingers had walked away to go back to what they were doing prior, bored after realising they wouldn't be able to profit with staying around for longer.

“Do I get to ask my question now?” Arlecchino tapped her elbow impatiently with folded arms.

“So you do want the reward?”

“Despite it not being my intention when joining, I would indeed like something that was promised. Whether it be an accident or a purposeful decision.”

“Okay, fine. Ask away then.” You shrugged.

“As you must already be aware, the majority of my Children from the Hearth hail from Fontaine, the nation of justice. I won’t lie to you, I’m beginning to grow increasingly concerned with the prophecy where–”

“--where the whole nation will be flooded and all the people will be killed except the archon? Yeah, I know of it. Your point?” You finished her explanation, already having an idea of where the conversation was heading.

“Then you will understand I care deeply about the future of my children. Tell me, will I succeed in convincing the Tsaritsa to visit Fontaine to retrieve the Gnosis in place of Rosalyne?”

“Of course you’d use the question to ask about your ‘precious children’.” Scaramouche mocked. “Just how idiotic can you be?? This is your chance to ask about the future!”

You gave a harsh glare with icy eyes in his direction before sighing, a smile on your face. “Yeah.”

“Hm? You have to give a higher detailed response to that.”

“You go to Fontaine, Childe coincidentally also there for his own personal motivations which may or may not be important. The whole time you’re there, you’re investigating Furina and the prophecy. Long story short, that I WILL NOT be elaborating, the prophecy is sorted and the people are saved. This includes the children in the House of the Hearth.” You explained, pleased with the question she asked you and your own personal answer. Wow, you can even impress yourself sometimes!

“Excellent.” She sighed in relief, her face unchanging. “Thank you. But I do have to ask, is the Hydro Archon really working to prevent the flood?”

“That’s two questions. But fine,” You shrugged. “You can trust her. Everything is proceeding to the plan, although interrogation and suspicion do indeed accelerate it to completion.” You thought out loud, noticing her questioning gaze and smiling deeper.

“That’s enough serious stuff. When are we going to discuss presents? Now that the tree is up we need to put the presents under it!” 

“Uh… We’re flat-out poor. We can’t afford presents.” Childe shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to accept my love as a present instead!”

“Ew, what are you, five? Wait… Don’t come over here! Not after saying something like that!” You panicked, watching him run over to you at full speed and choosing to run away.

“Scaramouche you know how you said you’d take me to the park? I’m cashing in that favour right now!”

[aaaddyyh]

Character analysis - Homicipher (pt. 1)

These are theories, don’t take my word for it. I welcome any other point of views, but there’s a big reason I’m posting: the lack of horror.

I’m not really here to complain about the fluff/nsfw headcanons and fics all around the Homicipher fandom

because everyone can enjoy content the way they want best!

But one of the many reasons I love the game so much is because of the horror element.

I noticed that people joined the fandom because of Mr. Crawling, or after romanticizing Mr. Scarletella and his motives. But I think, beyond all of that, every character has so much horror potential, which people don’t exploit enough.

I want some inclination towards dead dove, but there’s very few writers that post that kind of stuff. I love the thrill, I love the dread, the chase and the fight. That suspanse and stress that makes the horror actually crawl up my spine in a chilly shiver.

Time to ramble, please just hear me out 😞

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.

.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*

　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　

　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　.　　　　.　　　⠀

　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　　　

　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.

　.⠀　　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,

　　　*　　⠀.

　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　⠀✦

　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　*

.⠀ 　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　    　　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⋆｡°✩ Mr Crawling

- and traits I think people overlook

★ He’s an entity who claims can’t stand up, but does so up regardless in order to “intimidate”. There was no one to actually be intimidated (besides Mr. Stitch), because we all kicked our feet and giggled. But I don’t think some understand how truly terrifying that is.

The seemingly innocent character that poses no threat, who doesn’t intimidate anybody, suddenly stands up. He is so tall that he has to slump over to not hit his head. It’s already creepy seeing someone stand like that in a dark corridor, but how he overall seems to walk slow, threatening, makes you realize that maybe he’s capable of much more than what he claims.

To top it off, he is not slow at all. He catches up with Mr. Stitch in no time, despite Mr Stitch running for his life. Mr. Crawling grabs him with ease and kills him in one blow. He could be a very big threat to us too, had we not given him what he lacked: attention.

★ Imagine if we don’t give him the attention he wants. Yes, I understand he will get upset, but I doubt he’d just go hiding, unless we straight up attempt to hurt him. I’d much rather picture him fight for out attention and affection.

Here’s a hypothetical: what if that sadness eats him up until it turns into frustration? What if he would force us to give him attention, because he liked the taste of it, so he wants all of it, all of you. Not in a healthy way. Because we all know that Mr. Crawling is capable to inflict harm, so he’s not that clueless puppy we love to picture him as.

^ again, a lot of potential for dead dove

★ He’s puppy coded and all, but his obsession with us is not sane at all. Maybe he doesn’t exhibit it in a crazed and insistent manner like Mr. Scarletella, so we don’t get the creepy vibes across like we’re supposed to, but that doesn’t mean we have to glaze by it and turn a blind eye to this well written trait.

★ He seems to protect us, despising the moments we’re away from him.

An entity that doesn’t explicitly express discomfort when you’re interacting with other being, but will try anything to keep you for himself, to get your attention back on him, albeit in a tame and quite respectful way.

But the moment something unexpected happens, especially if it involves you being away from him, he is ready to use violence.

^ I can’t help but wonder if that respect would slowly fade away with time and, the more comfortable he gets, the more insistent he could become for your affection.

★ He has the tendency to get jealous too, but only on the inside: let me remind you about how he found an equivalent to the cat ears we put on Mr. Chopped, calling him cute. Mr. Crawling, somehow, got a grasp of human ears (which could imply he got them through violence - or not necessarily, who knows) and posed for us, wanting to also be called cute. I wonder just to what lenghs he would go for us and not only, for our attention.

★ He eats humans! Isn’t that reason enough to be scared? Had he not liked us, would we be a meal too?

★ He stood up to Mr. Scarletella, because he seems aware Mr. Scarletella wants us for himself. If we give him our name, our soul, that means Mr. Crawling would lose us. Isn’t Mr. Scarletella stronger than Mr. Crawling? Wasn’t Mr. Crawling risking a lot by protecting the woman the scarlet umbrella man stalked so feverishly?

A side note: it seems that, by covering our eyes, Mr. Scarletella’s effects on us dissipated. I started believing all his illusions, all his tricks, they all start from eye contact. Mr. Crawling, who lacks eyes (?), covered ours too, then told Mr. Scarletella to leave, and he did. Is it because Mr. Scarletella couldn’t do anything anymore (having no physical body)? Does Mr. Crawling know more than he lets on? I get that Mr Scarletella is “unsafe”, but I don’t see Mr. Crawling protecting us from any other entity as hard as he does from Mr. Scarletella.

Maybe Mr. Crawling avoids at any cost for Mr. Scarletella to take us away. Therefore, when we were forcefully snatched away, he freaked out and decided to use violence (Mr. Stitch scene). Being away from him eats him up from the inside, so he’ll do anything to make sure we never leave him.

★ Overall, I think Mr. Crawling is a pretty neat character, well balanced between respectful of boundaries, yet obsessive. There’s a lot of mystery engulfing his origins, his seemingly clueless nature and his mere existence.

And I would like to conclude with another hypothetical: if you would be watching a horror movie with all these amazingly written characters, wouldn’t “Mr. Crawling unexpected horror scenes” be the biggest plot twist? The one character you expected to be innocent, is evil? But not by any means to harm you, but a character that incites dread to others and is so violent with anyone else (entity or human), because he only wants you and to know you’re happy? That’s just bittersweet.

── .✦. ── ── .✦. ── ── .✦. ──

Please please write off of these if you want, it would be so amazing to see a darker side of Mr. Crawling, not just fluff or NSFW, because there’s so much more to him than the tip of the iceberg!

And sorry for being repetitive, it’s the first time I rant on here, giving more insights to prove a singular point is in my argumentative nature. And I am waiting for other theories, I really need people to talk with about the game ☹️

── .✦. ── ── .✦. ── ── .✦. ──

[hawkinsbnbg]

all i want for christmas is you

prompt: christmas | word count: 1000 | rated: T | tags: ex-hookups to lovers, fast burn, getting together, future fic. | @steddieholidaydrabbles | ao3

steddie bingo prompts: cuddle, sing, guitar | @steddiebingo

It was finally Christmas and Eddie was gonna meet Wayne's mysterious partner, who had been a famous topic in their conversations lately.

Not that Wayne had mentioned seeing someone, yet. But he knew his uncle well, or he'd like to think so, and Wayne wasn't the type to just talk about some random people during their weekly phone calls.

And since he'd been hearing about Stevie this and Stevie that for months, he'd braced himself for the family dinner™ when he visited Wayne this year.

That was why he didn't expect to see Steve Harrington when opening the door.

It'd been what? Ten years and the other man still looked as beautiful as ever. Even without his signature polo and khakis, Steve still managed to look unfairly cute in his winter outfit, big doe eyes and rosy cheeks, sweet and fluffy like a cute muffin.

Eddie wanted to eat him.

Before he could say anything, however, Wayne appeared from behind and pushed him out of the doorway.

"Come in, son. You're gonna freeze your ass off if you stay out there any longer."

Steve ducked his head to hide that endearing shy smile of his and stepped inside the house as prompted, sighing in appreciation when the warmth embraced him.

Standing awkwardly next to Wayne, Eddie held the cookies Tupperware Steve had brought over, watching him take off his maroon knit scarf, mittens, and earmuffs then change his shoes and hang his jacket.

As Wayne pulled him into a fatherly hug that Eddie had been given hours ago, a lightbulb moment finally happened to Eddie.

"Holy shit, you're the Stevie! What're you doing here?" Eddie didn't mean to sound so blunt, wincing internally at the hurt flashing in those hazel eyes.

Thankfully, before he could ruin everything with his loud mouth, Wayne interrupted gently.

"I invited him here to have dinner with us. You got a problem with that, son?"

"Nope," Eddie wisely shook his head, then gave Steve a (hopefully) charming smile. "Don't mind me, sweetheart. I was just worried that I haven't bought a gift for you since I didn't– You know what? I’m gonna go set up the table. You two continue catching up, okay?”

His retreating tactic only worked for about two minutes before Steve joined him in the kitchen. Without Wayne as their buffer, he didn't know what to say and neither did Steve by the look of it. But the silence was stifling and his self-control had been shot to zero anyway.

“So, you're friends with Wayne, huh?”

“You could say that,” Steve glanced at him briefly before looking away again. “He talks about you a lot, you know. Said he’s really proud of you. For living your dream and making a life out of it.”

Unable to help it, Eddie swayed closer, breathing in the familiar floral and fruity notes from Steve's cologne and body wash, smiling when he caught the sweet scent of baked cookies.

“For the record, he also talks about you a lot, Stevie.”

He felt a little drunk when Steve's ears and cheeks colored in a lovely shade of pink that matched his sweater vest, and realized how much he’d missed this. The easy flirting. The natural way they moved around each other. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, or maybe it was the domestic air of the occasion, but he could see them like this one day—happy, in love, together.

Eddie shook his head. All those years, and here he was, still just as hopeless.

Dinner was a delightful affair. Wayne made it his duty to regale them both with their embarrassing tales, more of Eddie's than Steve's. Turned out, Wayne had helped him get acquainted with the neighborhood when he first came to live here. Once they found out about their mutual love for sports and gardening, they’d become fast friends and the rest was history.

(“Wait. You walked here?? In this weather???”

“There are only a few flurries and I don't even live that far away from here. I’ll be fine.”

“Uh-huh, says the man who has pneumonia and still took a stroll when it's brass monkeys outside.”

“Like you're one to talk. Remember when you sprained his wrist and ankle because you refused to use the front door like normal people?”

“Listen–”

“Boys.”

“Sorry, Uncle Wayne.”)

At some point, Steve revealed that he was teaching at Hawkins Middle, and proceeded to gush about a bunch of kids Eddie had no idea about but still grew fond of anyway if only because they were the reason for the smiles on Steve's face.

After doing the dishes, they joined Wayne in the living room, drinking hot cocoas by the fireplace and bickering over their tastes in movies and music. Eddie got to show off his guitar skills, playing every request from Steve and Wayne.

They all sang along to Queens and ABBA, laughing when he missed some chords. Eventually, Wayne called it a night and retired upstairs, leaving him and Steve on the couch, cuddling and sharing body heat beneath the soft quilt.

Amidst their mindless bantering, he raised a hand to cradle Steve’s face, and asked softly. “May I?”

Like a dream, Steve leaned into his touch with a soft smile.

“Yes, please.”

Oh, sweet Santa. This man was gonna be the death of him.

Once they eventually parted, Eddie suggested that they should kiss under a mistletoe next time, and Steve quickly pointed out they’d just done it considering their quilt was patterned with mistletoes—something they’d failed to notice until they were done kissing. Somehow, that made them break into a fit of giggles, having to cover each other’s mouths to muffle their noises like a couple of giddy children.

“What do you want for Christmas?” Steve asked after a while.

“You,” Eddie pecked his lips tenderly. “It's always been you, baby.”

“You have me,” Steve smiled into the kiss.

And Eddie knew he was gonna do anything to make them work this time.

[noihavenosanitythanksforasking]

okay so heres my ideal byler confession:

so mileven breaks up in either episode one or two either is fine by me pacing wise

throughout episodes 1-4 imma need the flirting and gay longing to hit a fever pitch. not too much but enough for me to be holding my breath before jonathan fucking interrupts again. i need moments where im on the edge of my seat thinking "this is it" just for something to interrupt. i need the tension to BUILD.

episode 4 imma need micheal wheeler to be vecna'd. and i need suffering. i need that electrocuted mf to DESTORY my boy. i need a vision of will byers taunting my boy relentlessly. i need all the internalized homophobia from the past 4 seasons to be visualized in a hellscape of trauma. i need my boy to give the fuck up. and i need will to be the one to pull him back from the brink. i want mike to be ready to jump off the cliff again and wills voice to be his Running up that hill that pulls him back.

and when mike survives this vecna excursion. im going to need a parallel to the lumax scene ofc.

the next episode best be pure angst and pure plot. i want avoidance galore. i want mike terrified and quaking in his fucking boots that his visions of will will be a reality.

escape from camazotz. i think this will be it. i have two guesses

number one- some sort of big battle or event or something. possibly churchgate? or something of the like. dramatic kiss confession. aka were about to die so fuck it lets kiss.

OR

number two- some sort of fight. rain fight parallel. will is pissed that mikes been avoiding him and how mike said theyd be a team now. and hes also super worried bc bro just got vecnad. fighting ensures, lots of deflection but in the end we have the classic "because im in love with you moment" from mike. or something of the like. i feel like hed shout something along the lines of "i think i might be in love with you" first and then after a second of silence hed say quieter "im in love with you" cue dramatic kiss. will tells him he loves him back. however smth is happening and they dont have time to really discuss anything further and thats that. for now

im not sure which i want more

after this we defeat vecna and throughout all of this we have some tender byler moments. possibly a few more kisses but nothing major.

a few weeks after vecna is defeated will is outside on the swings of one of the schools which have been turned into a shelter during reconstruction. mike sees him and walks out. he stands there while will swings and have a some small talk. soon they lapse into silence and mike blurts out "will you go out with me" or "will you be my boyfriend" OR "can we be boyfriends" (again not sure which i prefer). Will will smile at him and say yes. making a parallel to how they met in kindergarten.

time skip to 89 we have established byler and i fully expect a drunk byler "crazy together" reference and i will die on this hill

[sissylittlefeather]

If I Can Dream: The End

A/N: Well, friends, here it is! The end of this beautiful saga has come. I have loved this series so much. I hope you all have too! Let me know your thoughts in the comments! Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

Summary: It's 1975 and Jo Bellamy has been in love with Elvis for 20 years. She doesn't even care that they haven't met yet. All she needs is a chance and she's determined to get one.

But Elvis doesn't feel much like Elvis anymore. What happened to the man he used to be? He's pretty sure he's long gone.

Can a chance encounter with Jo change the ill-fated trajectory of his life?

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), getting caught, p in v sex, hot tub sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word count: ~4.4k

She's never been one to worry about the future, but the thought of losing him makes her stomach turn over. Still, right now he has his arms around her and she's perfectly content to stay there forever, looking out over the untouched snow with the moonlight sparkling like diamonds.

******

Elvis wakes up unusually early on Christmas morning and kisses Jo awake. She groans and tries to roll away from him to get more sleep– they were up until after 2am getting things ready for Lisa Marie and it's only 9 now.

“Tink… wake up honey… it's Christmas…”

“Mmm babe it'll still be Christmas in an hour…” She grumbles.

“Yeah, but I wanna give you this before Lisa comes.” She rolls over and he's sitting there with a little box wrapped in red paper with a gold bow. Her heart stops and panic sets in when she realizes she doesn't have a gift for him.

“Oh, Elvis, I didn't know we were doing gifts… I haven't… I didn't…”

“Hush. Just open this.” He sets the small box on her stomach, so she sits up, yawning. She undoes the bow and starts to unwrap it.

“You already gave me a necklace. I don't know what else–” she holds them up. “A set of keys?”

“Yes!” He's about to burst with excitement and she suppresses a giggle at how childlike he is when he's overcome with joy.

“Keys to what?”

“Well, this one–” He takes the key ring and pulls out one. “This one's for Graceland. Your own key, since this is your home now too. And this one… well, c’mere.”

He gets out of the bed and walks to the window and she begrudgingly follows him, shivering. She's always freezing, so he wraps his arms around her from behind as she looks out the window. There, in the driveway, is a shiny new Mercedes-Benz in candy apple red.

“I just took a guess on the color. If you don't like it, we can trade it for something–” She turns and kisses him with her arms tight around his neck.

“It's perfect. Why did you pick red?” He shrugs.

“You wear a lot of red and your toenails are red. It just made me think of you. But seriously, if you don't like it, we can get something else.”

“Red is my favorite color.” She raises an eyebrow quizzically. “You noticed my toenails?”

“Yes. Don't make it weird.” She giggles and kisses him softly again, mumbling against his lips.

“It really is perfect.” She starts to walk him backwards towards the bed until he sits on the edge and she crawls into his lap, straddling him. His hands roam over her sides and back and then up the front of her pajama shirt to cup her breasts.

“Honey, we only have–” He whispers between kisses– “about an hour before Lisa Marie gets here.”

“You're the one with your hands all over me.” She whimpers as he leans forward and presses his lips to her neck. Then he murmurs against her skin.

“Can't help it. You crawled in my lap.”

“Then I guess we better hurry.” She squeals as he picks her up and flips her over so that she's laying on the bed and he's standing next to it.

“Guess so.” But he's not quite hard yet, so he drops to his knees and pulls her pajama bottoms and panties off.

“Elvis, what are you–? Oh… oh!” She moans. He's got her legs open and his tongue pretty far in her pussy when there's a knock on the door. Neither of them notices.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” Jerry starts to open the door. “It's time for– oh God.”

“Ahhh!” Jo screams a little and Elvis looks up confused. He quickly stands up and throws the blanket over her whole body, face and all.

“Jerry. You knock, wait for a response, and then open the door. How old are you?” Jerry is still just standing there with his mouth open in shock. It's been a while since he's walked in on Elvis with a girl. His eyes drift down a bit to little Elvis standing at full attention and he looks away quickly, clearing his throat. Elvis realizes what happened and turns away. “Goddamnit. Now you're hard?!”

Jo is in a fit of laughter where she's laying underneath the blanket.

“Cool it, Giggles.” Elvis hollers at her playfully.

“I'll just… go…” Jerry turns and walks out, shutting the door behind himself. Elvis uncovers Jo and she cackles out loud.

“Oh my God!” She can barely breathe, she's laughing so hard. Elvis just stands there with his hands on his hips for a second before he gets tickled too and his laugh fills the room. She finally slows down enough to talk. “Think we scarred him for life?”

“Nah, Jerry's seen way worse. At least this time it wasn't my naked ass.” That sets Jo off again and she sits up with tears sliding down her cheeks as she giggles. Elvis sits down next to her on the bed and throws his arm around her, kissing her forehead. “Guess that kinda ruined the mood a little, huh?”

She tries to even her breathing and slips her hand between his legs where his cock is now soft.

“Yeah, I guess it did. I could try to get him back?”

“Nah, honey, we gotta get ready anyway. We will finish this tonight when it's just us again.”

“You promise?” He holds his hand up and nods.

“On my honor as a gentleman. I will make you cum tonight. Probably twice.” She laughs and pushes his shoulder.

“You're no gentleman, Mr. Presley.”

“And you're no lady. Now let's get that sweet little ass of yours in the shower before anything else happens.” She giggles and kisses the end of his nose.

“I love you, Elvis.”

“Nah, Tink. I love you more.” She pushes his hair back off of his forehead and there's a brief moment where they look into each other’s eyes and wonder how they got so lucky. Then, they peel themselves off the bed and get into the shower together.

Somehow, they manage to get ready with about three minutes to spare, so they're headed downstairs when the doorbell rings. At the bottom of the staircase, Jo sighs nervously. Elvis turns and takes her face in his hands.

“It'll be fine, Tink. She's gonna love you.”

“I hope you're right.” He kisses both of her cheeks and whispers.

“I'm Elvis Presley. I'm always right.” He winks and then turns to open the door. Jo smiles. It's nice to see his natural confidence back.

As soon as the door is open, Lisa Marie bounds in the room and launches herself into her daddy’s arms. He catches her easily and the two of them share a moment that is totally and completely theirs. Priscilla notices Jo standing there awkwardly and reaches her hand out.

“I'm Priscilla.” Jo nods and tries to smile affably.

“I'm Jo. Jo Bellamy. It's nice to meet you.”

“Mhmm. How long have you all been… whatever you are…?” Jo blinks, not sure how to answer. Priscilla's tone is friendly, but the question feels loaded.

“Long enough, Cil.” Elvis cuts in and saves Jo from having to explain that they've only been together a week. They exchange the rest of the necessary pleasantries without Priscilla asking anymore questions. Eventually, she leaves and it's just Elvis, Jo, and Lisa Marie, who turns to Jo and gives her a skeptical look. She doesn't trust any woman who takes her daddy’s attention. Elvis notices the interaction and interjects.

“Yisa, this is Jo. She's daddy’s new… friend.”

“She's your girlfriend, daddy, you can just say it.” Lisa is sassy for a 7-year-old, but Jo is not thrown off. She fakes a gasp.

“Am I your girlfriend?! No one told me!” She turns to Lisa. “He's a mess.”

Elvis watches the interaction anxiously. Most of his girlfriends haven't really interacted too much with Lisa, especially not at first. To his surprise, Lisa giggles.

“He is a mess. But he's your mess now!” Jo laughs and looks over at him.

“I'll accept that challenge.” Elvis smiles softly at Jo. Lisa Marie looks back and forth between them and grins. She hasn't seen her daddy happy in a long time and if this woman makes him this happy, she's ready to play nice.

“I'm hungry. What's for breakfast?” Lisa asks loudly. Elvis bites his lip. He was in such a good mood yesterday, he gave the staff the day off– with rather large bonus checks– but he's not sure how they'll eat.

“W-well, baby– I-I-I–” He stutters, trying to come up with something.

“I'll cook. Let's go see what we have to work with.” Jo holds her hand out to Lisa Marie, who takes it easily, and they head into the kitchen. Elvis follows them, intrigued. He remembers that while they were making candy, Jo told him about how she had spent weekends with her aunt when she was a kid. Her aunt had learned to cook from her mother, Jo's grandmother, before she passed away, and she didn't have any kids of her own, so she taught Jo everything she knew. He hopes this includes breakfast.

In the kitchen, Jo moves around looking for what she needs. She manages to find eggs, bacon, and stuff to make biscuits and she puts Lisa Marie to work helping her. Lisa makes a huge mess with the flour, but Elvis is impressed with how little it bothers Jo to clean up as she's cooking.

“I like my eggs fried hard, honey.” He hollers at Jo as she cracks eggs over a pan.

“Hard? Why?!” He laughs.

“That's just how I like ‘em.”

“Alright, you're allowed to be wrong about that. I still love you.” Lisa giggles as Jo makes a disgusted face.

“Tell me you don't eat runny eggs, Tink.”

“I definitely eat runny eggs, Elvis.” He groans in disgust and pretends to fall off his chair. Lisa is beside herself laughing at the two of them. She decides at that moment that Jo can stick around. “Lisa Marie, how do you want your eggs?”

“Hard like daddy’s.” She gets a bashful look on her face. “But can I try yours?”

“Oh no! No ma'am. I'm not letting Tink corrupt you.” Elvis grabs her and puts her on his lap. Lisa laughs and puts her little hands on his cheeks.

“Oh, silly daddy. Why do you call her Tink if her name is Jo?”

“Doesn't she look like Tinkerbell?” Lisa turns to look at Jo, who is taking the biscuits out of the oven. She nods and then looks back at Elvis.

“Does that make you Peter Pan?”

“I guess it does, Yisa.”

“Good. It means you'll never grow up.” He smiles and kisses her forehead. Jo walks over with their breakfast plates and they settle in the dining room to eat.

After breakfast, they make their way to the living room for Lisa to open the mountain of presents surrounding the tree. Elvis fetches a camera and Jo snaps a couple of photos as they sit in the living room like a family. Once all the presents are open, Lisa sits on the couch between them with a doll on her lap. She turns and looks at Jo.

“How old are you? You look old enough to be my mom. Most of daddy’s girlfriends don't.”

“Oh, Yisa–” But Jo interrupts him.

“I'm 36. I am definitely old enough to be your mom.” Lisa sits up and looks at her, shocked.

“You're older than my mom!” Jo nods.

“I am. Is that okay?” Lisa settles back between them.

“It's fine with me.” Elvis chuckles.

“Good, I'm glad we have your approval, babygirl.” They sit there for a little while longer. Eventually Lisa sighs.

“Now what are we gonna do?” Jo clicks her tongue.

“Snowball fight?” Lisa scoffs.

“Daddy won't–” He jumps off the couch.

“Let's go. Me against you two girls. Unless you're scared?” Lisa’s face breaks out in the widest smile and she hops off the couch too. The three of them get bundled for the snow and head outside. The rest of the afternoon is spent in the yard. The girls win the snowball fight when they tackle Elvis and bury him in snow. Eventually, the sun starts to set and they go back inside to warm up with cocoa that Jo makes on the stove with milk. They're sitting in the TV room watching A Charlie Brown Christmas when the doorbell rings and Lisa Marie groans.

“Your mom’s here, babygirl.”

“Can't I stay with you guys?” Jo can see the pain on Elvis's face as he shakes his head and starts up the stairs with Lisa and Jo not far behind. In the foyer, Priscilla gathers Lisa Marie and the presents she can carry. Lisa grabs Jo and hugs her tight.

“Bye Jo.” Priscilla purses her lips.

“I'll send the rest of it soon.” Elvis says sadly. Just before she leaves, Lisa Marie gestures for him to come close to her. He squats down and she wraps him in a hug.

“Don't lose this one, daddy. She's special.” She says it in his ear, but both Priscilla and Jo can hear her. He pulls back a little and kisses her cheek and then looks her in the eye.

“I won't, babygirl.”

“She’s your Tinkerbell. She's magic.” Elvis stands up and puts his arm around Jo.

“She is magic. Don't worry, Yisa. She's not going anywhere.” Priscilla watches the scene with her mouth open a little.

“Come on, Lisa. Let's go home.” She tries to hustle her out the door, but they hear her little voice just as the door closes.

“I am home.”

Elvis breaks down as soon as the latch clicks and Jo grabs him and holds him on her shoulder as he sobs.

“I miss her so much when she's gone. And her mother…” He chokes a little. “I need her with me all the time.”

“I know, babe. I know.” They stand there for a while, with Elvis crying on her shoulder. Finally, he stands up and wipes his face.

“I'm sorry; I just–”

“Elvis, you don't have to apologize. I understand.” He smiles weakly and holds her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“I love you, Jo Bellamy.”

“I love you too, Elvis Presley.” He kisses her softly and notices she's shivering again, his eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“Are you cold, honey?”

“I'm freezing.” His weak smile turns to a grin.

“I know what we need.” He leads her through the house out to the carport.

“Elvis, where are we going?!”

“Just trust me.” She follows him across the yard to the brand new racquetball building.

“I'm not playing racquetball–” He turns and gives her a look.

“Will ya just hush and follow me?” She nods and follows him inside and up the stairs. He uncovers the surprise and exclaims. “Ta-da!”

“Woah…” Jo is almost speechless. He has a whirlpool spa full of already-hot water.

“Let's warm up. What do ya say, Tink?”

“Fuck yes.” He frowns.

“Language, honey, or I'll put something in that dirty mouth.”

“Oh, I'm counting on it.” She laughs. “I don't have a bathing suit, though.”

“Do you need one?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Sure don't.” She smiles and starts to undress. Elvis turns to go back down the stairs. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Figured you might like a drink. There's a bar downstairs. Wine?” She nods and then stops him.

“I thought you didn't drink? I don't really want to drink alone.” He clicks his tongue and strokes her cheek.

“It's Christmas, honey. I'll have a drink or two with you.”

Elvis fetches the drinks while Jo strips down and settles into the hot tub naked. When he returns, he hands her the glass of red wine and then starts to take his clothes off too.

“Mmm, honey you look so good like this. Almost hate to ruin the picture by getting in there with you.” She stands up out of the water and moves over to him, grabbing his face.

“Stop it. You do this all the time. I love the way you look.”

“I just don't feel good about it. And it hurts. I'd like to be healthy for you. I want to stick around.”

“Okay, well that's different. That we can work on. But no more of this talking bad about yourself nonsense. I love you just the way you are. You hear me?” He nods and she kisses his forehead.

“Yes ma'am. You'll help me get healthy again?”

“Of course I will.” He looks down sheepishly.

“Already cut down on my pills a lot. Been only takin’ what's necessary.” She smiles.

“I noticed. I'm proud of you, babe. Whatever you wanna do, I'm here. Look at me.” He moves his eyes back up to meet hers. “I'm in this with you for the long haul, no matter what that means, okay?”

“Okay.” He finishes undressing and slides into the water with her. She sips her wine as he lights a cigar and takes a sip of whiskey. They sit in silence for a bit, just enjoying the warm water and each other's company.

“I'm sorry I didn't get you a gift.” She whispers. He sets down his drink and the cigar and lifts her into his lap facing him.

“Tink, honey, you are a gift. You've given me my life back. That's enough.” He leans forward and presses his lips to her neck. “Besides, I can think of something else I want from you that doesn't require you to buy anything at all.”

She moans softly as he kisses down to her collarbone.

“Yeah, what is that?” His fingers find their way between her legs under the water and start to make circles on her sensitive bud. She leans her head back and moans.

“This little pussy. Little Elvis has been missing her all day.” He kisses up to her ear and nibbles on the lobe.

“Oh is that right?” She whimpers as he works her clit with his fingertips. He uses his other hand to grab hers and put it on his erection. “Mmm, I guess so.”

He groans, slipping two fingers inside her to pump them in and out with his thumb on her clit as she begins to stroke him. Something about being in the hot water makes the whole scene even more erotic.

“Love how you touch me, honey.” His breath starts to come a little faster as she moves her hand on him. He grits his teeth and leans his head back, his hands drifting to her hips. “Fuck.”

“You wanna feel this little pussy, babe?” All he can do is nod.

“Mmhmm…” She moves over him to tease her clit with the tip of his cock and then starts to sink down onto him. His mouth falls open in pleasure. “Fuck yes, honey…”

She braces herself with her hands on his shoulders and starts to bounce on him. He looks up at her with her lower lip pulled between her teeth. She's so beautiful like this, lost in the ecstasy of loving him. His heart swells and he reaches up to pull her forehead down against his. She moans as he guides her movements with one hand on her hip and the other on her neck.

“God, I love you Tink. I love you so goddamn much.” She smiles and feels the lump form in her throat as she rubs her forehead on his.

“This is everything I've ever wanted. You are everything I've ever wanted. I love you too, Elvis.” His hands move to her back and he lifts his hips a little to thrust into her from underneath. The subtle shift in angle makes the tip of his dick rub against the sensitive spot inside her and she moans loudly. He pulls one of her nipples into his mouth and runs his tongue around it as he slides in and out of her, the water rushing against her clit with his movements. “Oh, God, Elvis. It feels so… fuck.”

“Come on, Tink. Cum for me, honey.” The sweat drips down his forehead as he works to push her over the edge, his own release gathering in his balls. The water splashes over the edge of the tub as they fuck, but neither of them cares. They’re too caught up in the pleasure of being together. He moves his thumb back to her clit as he slams into her as fast as the water will allow. Finally, her orgasm snaps wide open inside her and she moans, her body shuddering around him as she cums hard on his dick.

“Yes, honey, that's it. Yes, Tink, fuck!” He gets louder with each word and holds her still as he empties himself deep inside her, his cock twitching with the release. After a few seconds, they both relax against each other, sweating and panting.

But Elvis isn't finished. He kisses her shoulder and neck and lifts her off of him, turning and setting her on the corner of the spa.

“Elvis, what're you doing?” Jo asks, exhausted. He looks up at her and smiles, pushing her thighs apart.

“I promised you two.”

“Oh!” She moans and damn-near falls off the side of the tub when he dives into her pussy tongue-first. “Oh. My. God.”

Her clit is so sensitive, the rest of her so puffy with use, that his mouth is making her wild. She tries to stay still as he licks her, but she writhes and grinds against his face. He holds her ass cheeks with both hands in an attempt to keep her from moving, but he kind of loves that she's so turned on she has to move. Her hands are in his hair, pulling as she pushes against his mouth and he grunts. If he was twenty years younger, he'd be hard again already. It's so hot to listen to the little sounds that drip from her mouth as she loses control. He feels her tighten around his tongue and knows she must be getting close, so he slips two fingers up inside her to pump in and out while he licks her clit.

“Elvis! Oh, oh, oh!!” She exclaims as she cums again, her release splashing out of her onto his hand as he fingerfucks and licks her through her orgasm. Her whole body trembles as the wave of ecstasy rushes over her, knocking out the hearing in her left ear. When she relaxes, he pulls away and she slides back into the hot tub. He catches her and turns with her sitting sideways in his lap, resting her head against his chest.

“You okay, honey?” She sits up and shakes her head.

“No. No I’m not.” His eyes fill with concern and he holds her face in his hands as a single tear slides down her cheek.

“What is it?” He moves her hair off her forehead and strokes the side of her face. “Honey…?”

“I lied to you.” He blinks, a gnawing fear setting in. She tries to breathe and continues. “I said I didn't care how long we were together. I said all I wanted was right now and that would be enough, but it isn't. I don't want to live without you, Elvis. Not ever. And I'm terrified that you're going to go on tour or back to Vegas and that'll be it and I can't… I can't…”

She's overcome with emotion, sobbing into his chest. He relaxes significantly and smiles, kissing the top of her head.

“Honey, listen.” He rearranges to hold her face in his hands again, wiping the tears away with his thumbs and looking her in the eye seriously. “I meant it when I told Lisa Marie I wasn't going to let you get away. When I go to Vegas or on tour, you'll come with me. It's as simple as that. You think I'd forget my magic girl? My Tink? I'm not living this adventure without you. You got it?”

She sniffles and nods and he leans in and kisses her softly.

“I know this has been your dream for 20 years, but it's not just yours anymore. It's ours. And I'll be damned if I let it end any time soon.”

“Our dream?”

“Ours, honey. You and me. Forever.”

“Forever…”

******

New Year's Eve 1975 - Pontiac, Michigan

Elvis is on stage, doing his normal routine with as much enthusiasm as he's ever done it before. He moves around, jokes with the audience, and kisses fans– with his mouth closed– as much as he ever has. People in the crowd will talk about this show as a comeback of sorts. A reporter will write “1970 Elvis has returned.” He looks better, he feels better, he is better. Just before he sings Can't Help Falling In Love and ends the concert, he stops the music and starts talking.

“I wanna introduce y’all to someone. Tink, honey, stand up.” The spotlight falls on her and she stands up, blushing and giggling. “Isn't she beautiful, folks? This is my fiancee, Jo Bellamy.”

Jo’s mouth pops open and she stands there in shock. Elvis continues.

“She looks like that because I haven't asked her yet. You wanna marry me, honey?” The crowd goes wild as Charlie hands him a ring box that he opens and holds out to her. She laughs and nods, waiting for them to settle before hollering up at him.

“Of course I do!” There’s more raucous applause from the audience, but Jo and Elvis might as well be in a room alone. Eventually, the cheers subside.

“See folks? Fiancee. C’mere, honey.” Jo is beside herself with joy as she makes her way to the stage. He bends down and slips the giant diamond on her finger before kissing her. He holds the mic to the side and whispers. “I love you, Tink.”

“I love you more, babe.” He winks and then stands up. Jo makes her way back to her seat and sits down. She's already pregnant with their boys, Elvis Jr. and Jessie Garon, but neither of them know it. The music starts up and Elvis says one last thing before he breaks into song.

“To live would be an awfully big adventure, right honey? That's exactly what we plan to do. Come on guys, let's sing the song…”

And they lived happily ever after.

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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[elaichichais-blog]

I’m trying to spread the liucheng agenda. I’m gonna drop him and Jiang Cheng into a life-or-death situation and watch the sparks fly—literally.

Picture this: they’re forced to team up against a massive demonic beast because, of course, fate thinks it’s hilarious. Jiang Cheng takes one look at the mess and immediately steps up, Zidian flashing to life as he yells, “Stay out of my way!” Liu Qingge, naturally, bristles at being bossed around but doesn’t even get a chance to argue because Jiang Cheng’s already in the thick of it, purple lightning cutting through enemies like a blade.

At first, Liu Qingge is just annoyed. Who does this guy think he is? But then, mid-fight, Jiang Cheng calls out a perfect strategy (and fine, it’s actually a good one), and Liu Qingge realizes this guy isn’t just strong—he’s terrifyingly competent. Then it happens. Jiang Cheng turns, robes torn and blood on his face, Zidian lighting up the battlefield like a storm, and Liu Qingge freezes.

His brain again: Oh no, he’s hot.

It only gets worse when Jiang Cheng saves him from a sneak attack, Zidian snapping just in time to fry the enemy to ash. Liu Qingge, still on the ground, looks up at Jiang Cheng like he’s just seen a god. Jiang Cheng, glaring, snaps, “Stop staring and get up! We’re not done yet!” Liu Qingge grunts out a quick, “Thanks,” but inside he’s spiraling.

After the fight, Jiang Cheng is all business, cleaning Sandu and muttering about incompetent partners. Meanwhile, Liu Qingge is standing nearby, awkward and covered in blood, trying to figure out how to ask, “Do you want to fight monsters together forever? Maybe get married?”

Qi Qingqi hears the story later and absolutely loses it. “You fell in love during a battle? Classic Liu Qingge. Should I start planning the wedding, or are you going to challenge him to a sparring match first?”

Liu Qingge just growls at her, but deep down, he’s already imagining their wedding robes.

(Do not question why they are fighting a demonic beast together or why they are in the same universe—shushhhh)

After the fight, things get… awkward.

Jiang Cheng goes right back to being his prickly, grumpy self, brushing off any praise with his usual “I didn’t do it for you” energy. Liu Qingge, on the other hand, has entered full internal crisis mode. He keeps replaying the fight in his head, specifically the part where Jiang Cheng yelled at him while literally glowing with Zidian’s light.

The problem? Liu Qingge doesn’t know how to act normal around him anymore. He starts inventing excuses to visit the Jiang Sect—something about “coordinating strategies” or “the lotus seed are incredibly tasty in specific sect.” (it’s off season) Jiang Cheng just narrows his eyes every time, wondering why this supposed war God suddenly cares so much about Yunmeng.

Everyone around them, of course, notice immediately. Qqq and his Sic are both having the time of their lives.

Qi Qingqi: “You’re staring again.”

Liu Qingge: “I’m observing his technique.”

Sic: “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng is oblivious—until Liu Qingge asks him to spar. At first, Jiang Cheng just thinks it’s a competitive thing, but then Liu Qingge keeps showing up, offering to train with him more and more. During one sparring match, Jiang Cheng manages to disarm Liu Qingge with Zidian, and Liu Qingge’s brain short-circuits because damn, that was hot.

Eventually, it gets to the point where even Lan Xichen is like, “Aren’t you two spending a lot of time together?” and Jiang Cheng immediately denies it, “It’s not like that!” while Liu Qingge looks like he’s been caught red-handed.

The real turning point comes when Jiang Cheng gets injured during another battle. Liu Qingge absolutely loses it, tearing through enemies to get to him and standing protectively over Jiang Cheng like a one-man army. Afterward, Jiang Cheng is yelling at him: “I could’ve handled it!” and Liu Qingge snaps back, “What, do you think I’d just let you die?”

Cue awkward silence. Jiang Cheng glares, Liu Qingge glares back, and then, Jiang Cheng mutters, “Idiot.”

But the next time Liu Qingge asks him to spar, Jiang Cheng doesn’t roll his eyes. Instead, he just nods, Zidian glowing faintly in his hand. Maybe this idiot isn’t so bad after all.

[im4rmy]

your first time together - jaemin (idol AU)

IMAGINE: he rents a room in a hotel to have a really nice dinner but your mind is somewhere else.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

• you sighed deeply to gain the strenght that seems to have left your body: you worked your ass off for 12 hours at the hospital where you were doing your specialization. but holy shit were you tired.

• you were used to long shifts, you loved your job and usually even 20 hours of work were easily manageable but today- even getting ready for your date with the most attractive man you ever met in your life was HARD.

• getting all dolled-up and choosing an outfit was one of your favourite activities and the idea of having a fancy dinner in an expensive hotel was great but your body was really struggling rn, in front of the location where jaemin was waiting for you.

• you took the elevator to reach the room jaemin texted you about and sighed again, getting ready to be charming and sexy for him. you liked him a lot tbh but of course you only had a few dates together and you were basically still strangers.

• jaemin opened the door of the room to welcome you in and the bright smile he gave you made your shoulders relax instantly. his presence was really comforting.

• "hi pretty" "hi jaemin, you look very handsome, as always"

• he laughed letting you in (to hide the butterflies that threatened to climb up through his throat) and taking your coat for you. "you're stunning, as always. i'm sorry, i know it looks very suspicious to have dinner in this room rather than the restaurant but-" "oh you don't need to explain, i saw the amount of people that are hanging in the hall. i like it here, it's more quiet"

• he smiled again and guided you to take a seat at the table. you looked around and- that wasn't just a room, it was a suite, with a living room and a kitchen and probably two or more bedrooms.

• the dinner was going on smoothly as always, he was funny and charming. you could listen to him talking all day long without getting tired, but tonight your body was failing you and your legs hurt so much it was distracting.

• "are you okay?"

• you looked up at him and smiled. "of course! um... what were you saying?"

• he didn't answer and looked at you unconvinced, but resumed his discourse nevertheless.

• "omg i'm sorry, hold on a second. i really need to-" you got up abruptly startling him and you shamelessly took off your black heels and exhaled loudly, letting your feet enjoy the freedom.

• jaemin looked at you with wide eyes, shocked by your sudden and weird change of character. you sighed and came back to your seat, giving another bite at your perfectly cooked steak. "you were talking about the shooting. what happened then?"

• he just stared at you for a while, starstrucked. then he tilted his head. "how many hours did you work today?"

• you blinked. "i told you" "i feel like you lied to me tho"

• you held his gaze for a bit, but then you collapsed on the chair and sighed in defeat. "twelve"

• jaemin's eyes widened. "WHAT?" he got on his feet immediately and walked around to stand behind you. when you feel his hands on your bare shoulders you flinch, but relax immediately after.

• "w-what are you doing?" "you need to rest, what the hell were you thinking? i would've never invited you here knowing how tired you are!"

• you know what he means but you decide to tease him, trying to focus while his hands massage your skin and above all... trying not to moan, for god sake. "are you saying that i'm not pretty enough when i'm tired?"

• he laughs loudly and you can't see him but you feel his gorgeous smile shining behind you. and when he leans forward to whisper directly in your ear, you swear your heart flips in excitement.

• "you're truly a menace... i should watch my mouth, don't i?"

• you want to answer but his said mouth finds its spot around your earlobe and every possible word dies in your throat. he continues his journey down your neck until his lips reach your shoulder. and you finally moan.

• "ah, here it is. i'm waiting to hear you like this since we met, baby" "you really need to watch your mouth, pretty boy"

• you grab his head and smash your lips together, he sighs in your mouth and caress your arms, savouring your soft skin with his fingertips. "you're exquisite"

• "you didn't even taste me yet" "omg can i?"

• you see him TREMBLE and the excitement dancing in his eyes makes your mouth and your core water. "help yourself, sweetie"

• he moans just thinking about it and gets on his knees instantly, settling between your legs. he caresses your thighs trying not to drool and he reaches immediately for your panties, taking them off and leaving you in only your short dress.

• he lifts up the hem of it and attacks your core like a starved man, starting to kiss and lick and suck right away. you moan and grab his perfectly styled hair in your fingers, pulling at it.

• "shit" "relax, let me hear your pretty voice"

• jaemin finds himself craving your moans and whimpers: you're very vocal and he happens to love it. but you'll soon find out that he... purrs. every time you touch him properly he purrs. he lets out such low and shameless growls that your thighs clench involuntarily.

• after a few minutes, you're sprawled on the first bed you found with his erection in your hand, his mouth sucking one of your breast and your bodies completely naked on each other.

• between a whimper and a moan, he speaks "you remember that night, when we first met?". you nod.

• "i said that i fell in love with you then. i wasn't lying. i'm in love with you, y/n. i fell on my knees like a dumb kid. you have me wrapped around your finger and i love everything about that"

• you smile and look at the way he's caressing your breasts while he's saying all of these things directly in your face and you're stroking his damn member. you're very sure that this man is one to keep close.

• "then make love to me"

• the look you both exchange is sweet and the kiss after that is the most awesome kiss you'll ever experience in your life. you're sure of that.

• and when your bodies fully interlock you feel your mind melting in the bliss of the moment: jaemin's skin is all over yours and his hands cherish your every curve and line.

• his movements are sharp and rhythmic but slow, he takes care in every gesture, every stroke, every thrust.

• you had sex with different men before (and you can tell he had women in his hands before too) and you enjoyed a lot of good sex, but this hits different: you never felt this intimate with someone, especially because this is your first time together! wtf? but your bodies feel so comfortable interwined together.

• him in you... his eyes looking at you adoringly and lost in all the sensations you're enjoying right now... his hands holding you tight... does it feel amazing? yes. does it feel exciting? yes. but above all... it feels right.

• you reach the climax when he presses your clit with his thumb without stopping his melliflous thrusts. and when your walls clench around him he curses under his breath and cums right away, riding your shared orgasm till the end.

• he sighs and throws himself next to you, pulling you towards him and letting you rest on his broad chest. when you hear his heart beating at an alarming pace you smile and caress his abs.

• "what if i call you every time i have a 12 hours shift?" "how often does that happen?" "every two days" "that's too little, i need to see you at least once a day"

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

masterlist

Taglist: @carelessshootanonymous

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

[mama-qwerty]

That's it. I'm rewriting the Wade scene.

Sonic 3 spoilers

“The Master Emerald is being guarded by a fierce warrior, trained by my own hand!”

~~Meanwhile, in Green Hills~~

Wade Whipple, deputy sheriff of Green Hills, warrior-in-training to Knuckles, the last of the Echidna, and current bowling champion of the Green Hills bowling league, ages 35-50, stood at one end of a kitchen island, arms crossed over his chest.

At the other end of the island stood Callie MacPherson, head librarian of the Green Hills Public Library, personal tutor to Team Sonic, and current record holder for ‘most letters written to the editor of the town newspaper’, most in response to the minority of townspeople voicing a very loud outcry against the local alien children. (She just can’t help herself.) She also stood with her arms crossed.

They both stared down at the large green gemstone sitting on the middle of her island counter. Wade had brought it over, almost in a panic, as he asked for Callie’s help with it.

“Okay, so . . .” she began, her brows furrowed. “Walk me through it. One more time.”

Wade uncrossed his arms to rub the back of his neck. “Okay, so Knuckles left me in charge of the Master Emerald while they were off on their camping trip.”

“The same Master Emerald that can turn thought into reality, and what let Robotnik build that giant robot out of all those other vehicles that nearly destroyed the town, and the boys,” she said, keeping her eyes on the gem as though it would leap off the counter and attack.

“Yeah.”

“The same Master Emerald that let Sonic turn into . . . I dunno, some kinda glowy superhero.”

“Actually, I think that was something different? Like, there were other little gems inside and those changed him?”

She flicked her eyes up to him. “So what happened to those?”

He shrugged. “Knux said Sonic sent them away, but I’m a little fuzzy on the details.”

Her gaze fell back to the gem on her counter. “Uh huh.”

“Anyway, I was being a good guardian, like he wants me to be, never letting the thing outta my sight,” Wade said, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “I kept it with me the whole time.”

“Right,” she said, before pointing to it. “So it’s in a bowl of rice because . . .”

“I dropped it in the shower.”

Her eyes flicked back to him. He held his hands up. “Hey, I wasn’t doing anything weird with it! It was just a little greasy after I took it to the movies. They really put a lot of butter on their popcorn.”

Callie rubbed her temples. “Wade, I really think Knux just wanted you to keep an eye on it, not date it.”

“He said never let it out of my sight, and that’s what I was doing,” Wade said, standing a little taller. “I wanna make him proud. And when it got wet, I remembered what I had to do with my phone when I dropped it in the punch bowl at the last Christmas party. So I put it in rice.”

She shook her head. “I really don’t think the principle’s the same, here.”

He shrugged. “He said it’s the key to ultimate power. And if something with power gets wet, that’s bad.”

Callie opened her mouth to say something else, but ultimately closed it again. She had no idea how magic gemstones from space worked, and letting it sit in rice seemed harmless enough. “Okay, so what do you need my help with? You seem to have it covered.”

He rubbed the back of his neck again. “I dunno . . . I guess I just wanted some company? Being a guardian to something so powerful and special is kind of a lonely job.”

She gave him a look. “Wade, they’ve been gone for like two days.”

Another shrug. “Two guardians are better than one, right?” She cocked an eyebrow, and he sighed. “Oh, c’mon, Cal. All we gotta do is make sure no bad guys show up to take the Emerald and used it in ways it was never intended. How hard is that?”

She was about to answer when a blast of wind hit them, and Sonic appeared in the kitchen. The two humans jumped in surprise, giving almost identical little yelps at the sudden appearance.

“Hey, Sonic!” Wade called, giving him a little wave. “Didn’t expect to see you here! How’s the camping trip? Were you surprised by your little b-earth-day thing?”

Sonic didn’t smile or wave back. He stared at the gemstone, brows pulled into a deep furrow. “I need the Master Emerald.”

Callie blinked, and exchanged a look with Wade. They’d never heard, or seen, Sonic look so serious. So angry.

“What’s going on?” Callie asked, moving closer to the boy. “What’s happened?”

He turned to look at her, and she stopped dead by the look on his face. “Tom’s hurt, the world’s in danger. I need the Emerald. Now.”

Alarm bells sounded in Callie’s head, and a quick glance at Wade showed he thought something was up, too. They both moved to block the Emerald from his view.

“Slow down,” Wade said, holding a hand out in a placating gesture. “What happened to Tom? Is Maddie okay? Where are Tails and Knuckles?”

Sonic turned to Wade, his lip curling in a snarl. “I don’t have time for this. Give me the Emerald.”

The deputy flinched at the hedgehog’s look and tone, which only further solidified the idea to Callie that something was very, very wrong.

“Sonic,” she said, trying to keep her voice gentle and even. “We want to help. But you have to tell us what’s going on.”

His snarl became more pronounced, and in a blast of wind, he’d zipped behind them and snatched the Emerald from its rice bed. He stopped at the kitchen door, looking back at them.

“No time.” Sonic lifted the Emerald above him and in a whirl of wind and flash of light, he transformed, his fur turning golden and eyes red. “I have to end this.”

And with that, he was gone, a strong burst of wind making Callie’s kitchen rattle and shake with its strength.

As her things began to settle, Callie looked over at Wade, who looked equally shaken.

“Think Knux’ll be mad at me?”

She stared at him for a moment, before looking back out where Sonic had gone.

[tricksterringmaster]

Reblogging, since I mostly have the same feelings about the ships, although I'm personally not interested in Mulciber one, because people mostly make him into some kind of a Perfect Boyfriend for Severus, and I just don't think it what would actually happen. It can be interesting, though, but I guess it needs more time for fandom to come up with more interesting personality for the character.

Sn*gulus, I think, has many options of exploration, from Regulus being too deep into pureblood mania to see Severus with his origins as something actually worthy to them actually finding common ground because they both can't stand Sirius, with Severus admiring Regulus' status and seeing him as something he desires to become and be close too and Regulus admiring Severus' skills. To be honest, from all of these ships this one seems the most normal and realistic, lol.

As a Sn*rius shipper, absolutely agree on Severus' trauma being quite often extremely underexplored and forgotten in Sn*rius fanfiction. For my taste, people focus too much on passions of their arguments and sometimes downplay Severus' trauma or even use it as a point of sexual awakening for the ship. Sometimes it all boils down to "Hey, I fucked up, I'm kinda sorry-ish, but I want you, and I know you want me, let's go!" and Severus says "no" a couple of times best and then it all nice and well. And I understand a lot of it comes from "old man toxic yaoi" trend and "we are actually both awful people, so let's have our awful relationship", but for me it's just tiresome and unispiring. I genuinely want to see more of Severus saying "no" not because he suppresses his desires to fuck Sirius, but because he is actually disgusted by the idea, and Sirius for him isn't a pretty face, but the face of the person who made his life hell. And I want to see Sirius having to actually question his own motives and to have troubles with it, then to change and do things accordingly to these changes. Like, for me the most interesting thing in this ship that can be done is this enourmous work to build the bridges between them, and if there is no work - for me it doesn't feel real and like them. What is interesting also is that actually most of the authors perfectly understand Severus' trauma and what comes with it, but it rarely translates into work, so I just don't know if it's the problem of depicting it or just desire to focus on/rush into romance and sex more than to focus on realistic character development (sometimes it all takes dozens of chapters, but still turns out unsatisfying; these two are frustrating, and, I guess, sometimes authors just get tired; making this ship go in the healthy direction isn't for the weak, ngl).

Also about Sn*pin, yeah, I think I don't have this idea of Lupin being particularly heterosexual, but what I see is that he is not the most reliable person who is ready to do the work in relationships. People have to do the work themselves to build relationships with him, and he, with all his trauma, easily jumps into the idea that it's easier to remove himself from the situation. It was like this with Harry, it was like this with Tonks. Harry didn't do the work, so Lupin didn't even write to him. Tonks did the work, and she just had to do it again and again, sometimes not without the help of others, because you need to have a whole choir of people backing your opinion for Remus to hear you sometimes. And I just don't see Severus running after him with these loud speeches about how he is actually a good person who deserves love and attention like Tonks did, especially if he is rejected again and again.

And J*verus is just Sn*rius Light for me too. The same trope, but with seriously less depth.

P.S. Sorry for the long comment, these frustrations have been boiling in me for a while. And for whoever reads it: ship whatever you ship, it's all personal feelings and views.

Sev's fandom is so vast that it’s incredibly rewarding to feed my obsessive hyperfocus on him. I discovered that he has many ships, which was surprising but not unpleasant. Snulciber, Snegulus, and Snetunia were the ones that caught my attention the most as a newcomer, especially Snegulus and Snulciber. I love the idea of chaotic Slytherins starting a relationship based on mutual misunderstandings and actually gaining something meaningful from it, but unfortunately, I’ve never found anything along those lines.

What do you think about Severus and Regulus or Severus and Mulciber? Do you think there’s good potential there or not?

I also came across Severus ships with the Marauders, and although I don’t personally like them, I still find them unsatisfying. I hate how, in long fanfics, Severus’s trauma is never properly explored. It feels like he always has to swallow everything that happened to him in favor of the couple’s development. I wish there were more angst, self-hatred, and revulsion, both from Severus and his chosen partner. It feels unrealistic when they don’t allow his character to carry his trauma and deal with it at his own pace. Not to mention the half-hearted apologies I’ve seen from the Marauders in some stories. What do you think about that?

I also came across fem!Severus tags, and I must admit I’m hooked. It’s a shame I haven’t found any good fanfics about it. What’s your opinion on that?

As I said, the fandom and the ideas people have surrounding him are so fascinating to me. There’s so much potential to explore.

The Severus/Mulciber ship is as old as the creation of the continents hahaha. Look, I’ve always been fine with bisexual Severus, especially with that line Rowling mentioned about Severus wanting Lily but also wanting Mulciber. It has potential, and canonically, they got along, and Severus saw something in Mulciber that he desired — however you choose to interpret that. So, honestly, I don’t think it’s a crack ship at all!

I find it curious that people in the new Marauders fandom assume Regulus would have gotten along badly with Severus, when it’s far more likely they had a cordial relationship. Maybe Regulus was even nice to him just to spite his brother. Honestly, I can totally see a scenario where, after Sirius ran away from home, Regulus confronted him at some point when he was bothering Severus — just for the sheer pleasure of annoying him. I’m pretty sure nobody could handle Sirius Black, but if his brother stepped in, Sirius might think twice, simply because Regulus would know all his weaknesses.

It’s not a pairing I’ve thought much about, but hey, why not? It makes a hundred times more sense than Jegulus, and in the end, they were only a year apart, shared the same house, and probably had mutual friends. And Sirius would have had an aneurysm if he ever found out they were or had been involved — which is a bonus for shipping them, hahahahaha.

Severus pairings with any of the Marauders seem problematic to me for obvious reasons, since shipping a victim with their bully isn’t something I’m particularly fond of. That said, I understand Snirius because they have a lot in common while having diametrically opposed personalities. They love in very similar ways, and both have explosive tempers in their own ways, so the dynamic could be really interesting if handled well. My issue with Snirius is that the fics I’ve read don’t really explore Severus’s trauma or the consequences it would have on a relationship. If I were to write about that pairing, it would be a long fic where 60% of the plot is pure drama about how Sirius’s past as Severus’s bully is the main problem in the relationship — because it should be. The few fics I’ve read have left me pretty unsatisfied in that regard because Sirius repents way too quickly, and everything is resolved as if nothing happened, or the issue isn’t even properly addressed. Sorry, but that’s just not realistic.

I can’t see Snupin, though — I have something personal against Lupin, ironically, because he’s the one people have been headcanoning as queer since the dawn of time. But to me, he’s the most straightforwardly, absolutely, and completely heterosexual character because there’s nothing more straight for a man than leaving a pregnant woman and running off. For that reason alone, I can’t see him with anyone but a woman. Sorry, he’s the Ted Mosby of the wizarding world.

And with James, it’s just a no. Like, absolutely not. If you want an enemies-to-lovers dynamic, you already have Sirius, who’s at least mentally unwell and deeply depressed. James and Severus have nothing in common personality-wise — they’re completely incompatible.

[imminent-danger-came]

(1x00 A Hero is Born)

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(1x09 Macaque)

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(1x10 The End is Here!)

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(2x05 Minor Scale)

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(2x10 This is the End!)

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(3x09 The King, the Prince, and the Shadow)

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(3x11 Embrace Your Destiny)

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(4x07 Pitiful Creatures)

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(4x08 The Brotherhood)

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(4x10 The Jade Emperor)

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(4x11 A Lifetime of Mistakes)

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(4x13 Rip and Tear) (He's little but he's kneeling in both)

-

MK Kneeling Motif

[roots-symphony]

do you think the reason agatha’s trial felt weird is because she was the only one who did not actually buy into the mythos of the road since she knew the truth? like that was why no perspective change and all the other reasons why people thought it was a fake trial

[pilonciillo]

lol didn’t think someone giving money would give me anxiety