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wadewnstonwilson · 1 month ago

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die hard with a xmas vengeance;

summary: Logan and Wade embark on a chaotic Christmas themed "date night" involving a high-stakes break-in to retrieve a seemingly worthless VHS tape of Die Hard dubbed in Esperanto, which Wade insists is a "priceless collectible."

word count: 6.3k

author's note: this was SO much fun to write, and I hope everyone enjoys it! happy holidays!

It began like any other "date night" in Wade Wilson's twisted little world, only this time with a festive twist: breaking into a high-security facility, dodging a hailstorm of bullets, and retrieving some absurdly specific item he insisted was a "priceless collectible." Tonight’s objective? A Die Hard VHS tape dubbed in Esperanto, because according to Wade, it was the Christmas movie to end all Christmas movies. Why Esperanto? Only Wade knew, and Logan had long since given up trying to decipher his chaotic logic.

The pair stood outside an imposing industrial building, its sleek walls and fortified security system practically screaming do not enter. Floodlights swept the surrounding area in slow arcs, glinting off patches of frost and snow that crunched beneath their boots. The night air was sharp and bitter, stinging any exposed skin, but Wade seemed unfazed, practically vibrating with energy like a sugar-high elf on Christmas Eve. He adjusted the straps of his katanas, which he’d gleefully wrapped in a gaudy string of blinking red and green lights, and fiddled with a small device in his hands.

“Alright, Claws,” Wade said, spinning on his heel to face Logan, his grin so wide it looked physically painful. His voice carried that manic edge, like a kid hopped up on Pixy Stix and pure adrenaline. “Tonight’s the night! The heist of the fucking century. The coup de fucking grâce! We’re talking legendary shit. Oceans Eleven? Amateurs. The Italian Job? Snooze-fest. This is art, my friend. This is history in the goddamn making.”

Logan crossed his arms and leaned against a nearby lamppost, his silhouette bathed in flickering light. His expression was the textbook definition of unimpressed, his dark brows pulling together in a scowl that could have withered lesser men. But not Wade. Wade thrived on Logan’s disapproval.

“You’re stealing a VHS tape, Wade,” Logan said flatly, his deep, gravelly voice cutting through the cold night air like the bite of winter wind. Somewhere in the distance, the faint jingle of a Salvation Army bell echoed, as if the universe itself disapproved of Wade’s antics.

Wade gasped, his hands flying to his chest like Logan had just accused him of murdering a litter of kittens under a Christmas tree. His masked face tilted dramatically toward the sky, illuminated faintly by the string of festive red and green lights adorning a nearby lamppost. He staggered back a step, clutching at his heart like a tragic hero in a Hallmark holiday special. “Stealing?” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with exaggerated offense, almost drowned out by the faint hum of Silent Night playing in the background. “Stealing? How fucking dare you, Logan? I’m not some petty criminal swiping candy canes from a kid’s stocking! I am an artist, a goddamn patriot! What I’m doing is rescuing! No, liberating! I’m liberating this priceless cultural artifact from the greedy clutches of corporate indifference!”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his breath visible in the frosty air as he watched Wade fumble dramatically with his pockets. “Do you even know what this is?” Wade continued, yanking out a crumpled, folded piece of paper like it was some sacred holiday scroll. “This isn’t just some run-of-the-mill VHS, oh no, my furry little Canadian. This—” he paused for effect, “—this is Die Hard, in fucking Esperanto."

Logan didn’t flinch. Not even an eye twitch. The man was a goddamn statue of apathy. His arms crossed tighter over his broad chest, his lips tugged into a scowl that could frighten most humans. “Pretty sure you don’t even speak Esperanto.”

Wade froze mid-wave, his masked head snapping toward Logan like he’d just been called out for farting in church. “Not the goddamn point!” he yelled, waving a finger in Logan’s direction as if accusing him of high treason. “This is about the principle. The fucking principle! Do you think Bruce Willis crawled through sweaty-ass ventilation shafts with glass in his feet just so some corporate dickheads could bury this cinematic masterpiece in some lame-ass vault? Fuck no! That man bled for us, Logan. Bled! For the art of explosions and one-liners and Alan Rickman’s silky, villainous voice!”

Logan’s eyebrow arched a fraction higher, the barest glimmer of amusement breaking through his otherwise immovable frown.

“I don’t even think you understand what kind of legacy we’re talking about here!” Wade continued, undeterred by Logan’s lack of enthusiasm. He began pacing back and forth like a deranged motivational speaker, his hands flailing wildly as his rant gained momentum. “This isn’t just a fucking movie, Logan. This is a fucking movement! Bruce Willis crawled so Vin Diesel could drive cars through skyscrapers. He suffered so Keanu Reeves could shoot guns in slow motion while dodging Matrix-y bullshit! And you—” Wade stopped dead in his tracks, pointing a dramatic finger directly at Logan. “You dare to stand there with your judgmental, grumpy-ass lumberjack vibes and call this stealing?”

Logan let out a long, low sigh, his expression unmoving. “Still don’t speak Esperanto, Wade.”

“Jesus Christ, Logan, for fuck’s sake!” Wade clapped his hands together, his excitement bubbling over as he all but vibrated in place. “I don’t need to speak Esperanto. Esperanto speaks to me. It’s the fucking universal language, okay? It’s practically written into my DNA. And even if it wasn’t, it’s fucking Die Hard in a language so obscure, it might as well be hieroglyphics. That’s gotta count for something.”

Logan ran a hand down his face, the kind of exasperated gesture that only Wade Wilson could inspire after years of relentless antics. His voice was a low growl, laced with irritation. “You done yet?”

“Not even close,” Wade shot back, his grin as bright and unapologetic as a string of mismatched Christmas lights. “But we’ll circle back to my holiday sermon on why you’re the Grinch incarnate. For now—” He spun dramatically, arms wide as if presenting a snow-dusted wonderland instead of a high-security facility, “—we’ve got a yuletide miracle to save, Claws. So, if you’d kindly unwrap that stick from your ass and join me, we can go down in holiday history!”

With that, Wade practically skipped toward the building, humming an off-key and very deliberate rendition of Ode to Joy. Logan groaned, the sound carrying the weight of a man who’d just been forced into a poorly wrapped gift exchange. He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Merry fucking Christmas,” and trudged after him, boots crunching against the frosty ground.

Wade crouched in front of the security panel, tools scattered haphazardly on the ground beside him. His hands worked with alarming speed, twisting wires and jabbing at the delicate mechanisms like a hyperactive raccoon rummaging through a trash bin. All the while, now he hummed the Macarena—loudly and off-key—occasionally breaking into bursts of mumbled lyrics. “Dale a tu cuerpo alegría, Macarena… Fuck, why can’t I get this stupid thing to—oh wait, there it is!” He let out a triumphant cackle, pausing only to wiggle his fingers like a magician about to pull a rabbit out of a hat.

Behind him, Logan stood with his arms crossed, his patience wearing as thin as the soles of his boots. He scanned their surroundings, the dimly lit alley eerily quiet except for Wade's incessant noise. The low hum of nearby streetlights and the occasional distant bark of a dog only added to the oppressive stillness.

“You could just walk in the front door,” Logan muttered, his gravelly voice dripping with irritation as he leaned casually against the wall, one leg bent. “Probably easier."

Wade turned toward Logan, his body language broadcasting an almost theatrical level of offense. He threw up his arms, his red-and-black suit creaking slightly as he gestured wildly, and his mask twitched with disbelieving amusement. His voice, when it came, was pitched in that mock-incredulous tone he favored whenever Logan said something that rubbed him the wrong way. And damn, Logan had excelled at that tonight.

“The front fucking door? Seriously?” Wade demanded, as though Logan had just proposed they stroll into a nunnery wearing clown suits and juggling live grenades. His eyes were practically bugging out behind the mask. “What’s next, we knock? Hand out some goddamn gift baskets to the guards before we waltz in? Where the hell’s the foreplay in that, big guy?” He leaned closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Listen, babe, this isn’t just a mission—it’s a goddamn date night.” He put lascivious emphasis on those last two words, like he was savoring them. “A little B&E, a bit of illegal entry”—he paused, wiggling his eyebrows beneath the fabric—“that’s like the fucking aphrodisiac of our relationship, right there. Without it, we’re just two dudes loitering around a fortress. Lame as shit, if you ask me.”

Logan, rolling his eyes so hard he might have pulled a muscle, released a gruff, weary groan that spoke volumes. He’d seen this routine a hundred times over—Wade’s incessant, high-octane energy, peppered with enough F-bombs to level a small city. And yet here he was, still somehow tethered to the merc’s side. “You’re exhausting,” he said, each syllable dragged through sandpaper, his patience stretched thin.

A twisted, mocking grin split Wade’s face, warping into something both delighted and diabolical. “And you’re fucking old,” he retorted without missing a beat, like he’d been waiting weeks to drop that line. The door’s security panel flickered green and emitted a crisp beep, the deadbolts sliding back with a metallic thud. “Boom!” Wade cried, throwing his arms in the air triumphantly. “Who’s the badass now? That’s right—moi, motherfucker!”

As he pushed the door inward, Wade strutted through like he owned the place, the high-tech hallway stretching out under harsh fluorescent lights. The corridor had that sterile smell—disinfectant, burnt wiring, and the faint tang of metal. Logan followed him in, every sense on edge, nostrils flaring as he tested the air. His eyes swept over the bland, featureless walls, the distant hum of HVAC units, the crisp echoes of their footsteps. Danger lurked somewhere ahead, he could feel it.

“Still me,” Logan muttered, low and grim, reaffirming his own steady competence in the face of Wade’s theatrics.

Wade ignored him, pulling a crumpled, grease-stained piece of paper from his pocket, squinting at the barely legible scribbles he called a plan. “Alright, vault’s down this hall. We’ve got a laser grid—fuck yeah, a real laser grid, by the way—then a couple of rent-a-cops who probably can’t shoot for shit, and then this lock so complicated it makes your little Swiss Army claws look like a kid’s craft project.”

Logan raised a single eyebrow, unimpressed. “Laser grid?”

“Oh, hell yes,” Wade said, his grin spreading so wide it looked borderline painful, like a kid seeing presents under the tree on Christmas morning. “Some real Mission Impossible shit, my man. I’m talking acrobatics, sweat glistening like tinsel on the ol’ bod, maybe a slow-motion flip or two if I’m feeling spicy. You know, the kind of holiday magic that gets the ladies—or in my case, the fellas—hot and bothered.”

Logan rolled his eyes, his patience thinner than holiday wrapping paper. “You’re full of shit.”

“Excuse me?” Wade shot back, clutching his chest like Logan had just insulted his dead mother. “I am full of charm, wit, and possibly that expired Taco Bell from yesterday. But shit? No, sir. I’ll have you know, this laser grid is my time to shine, grumpy pants. Now, try to keep up—or don’t. I’m not your babysitter.”

Without waiting for a response, Wade darted ahead, moving with an energy that could only be described as caffeine-fueled chaos. Logan followed at a slower, measured pace, dragging his boots along the cold, sterile floor.

When they reached the entrance to the laser grid, Wade spun on his heel, his entire body practically humming with excitement. He slapped his palms together, a gleam in his eye that screamed this is going to be so goddamn stupid.

“Alright, honey badger,” Wade began, his voice dripping with theatrical flair, “prepare to witness the greatest fucking show on Earth. Wade Wilson, a.k.a. the Merc with the Abs, a.k.a. your favorite pain in the ass, is about to bend, twist, and contort his ridiculously flexible body through a high-tech field of death lasers. For free! I mean, who the fuck needs Vegas when you’ve got me?”

Logan crossed his arms, leaning casually against the wall, the faint glow of red and green security lights casting a soft hue across the dim hallway. “Are you gonna talk all night, or are you actually gonna do something?”

“Patience, Daddy,” Wade shot back with a wink, the faint jingling of bells on his utility belt—because of course he’d added bells—echoing faintly. “You don’t rush perfection. Now, sit back, relax, and watch as I make these lasers my bitch. Call it my holiday miracle.”

Without another word, Wade launched himself into the grid, his body moving with an absurd combination of grace and insanity. He twisted and flipped through the crisscrossing beams, his commentary sprinkled with festive flair.

“Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, eat your hearts out!" Wade muttered, barely dodging a laser with an exaggerated spin. "I’m the real MVP of this Christmas caper!”

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re gonna end up a charred ornament if you keep this up.”

“Charred but festive,” Wade shot back mid-flip, a grin plastered on his face as he continued to maneuver through the glowing red maze.

“Oh, fuck me sideways—this one’s tighter than my ex’s leather pants. Whoa! Almost lost a nut there. You see that, Logan? You watching? You better be fucking watching, because this—oh shit, that was close—this is some artistic genius right here!”

By the time Wade reached the other side, he struck a dramatic pose, arms spread wide as if he’d just won an Olympic medal. “Ta-da! Who’s your daddy now, huh? Say it, Logan. Say, ‘Wade, you magnificent bastard, I bow to your superior laser-dodging skills.’ Go on. I’ll wait.”

Logan didn’t even flinch. Instead, he stared at Wade with a deadpan expression, his arms still crossed. “Deactivate the damn grid.”

Wade grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief like the lights on a freshly decorated tree. “Your wish is my command, Mr. Fuzzy Pants.” With a dramatic flourish, he tapped a button on the nearby control panel, the lasers powering down with a faint hum that reminded him of holiday lights flickering off after a long night. He gestured grandly toward the now-clear hallway, his grin as smug as a kid who just peeked at his presents.

“After you, grandpa.”

Logan grunted, waiting until Wade deactivated the grid completely before stepping forward. His movements were calm and deliberate, like someone unwrapping a gift they weren’t entirely sure they wanted. The intricate maze of lasers that had Wade practically bouncing with adrenaline didn’t faze him in the slightest.

“Impressive,” Logan deadpanned as he stepped through unscathed, his tone as flat as a holiday card from someone you barely know. “You’ve got a future in circus work.”

“Goddamn right, I do,” Wade said, spinning on his heel to face him, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. He extended his hand dramatically, palm up, as if waiting for applause. “Step right up, folks! Feast your eyes on the world’s most flexible, most charming, most devastatingly handsome sword-swinging motherfucker this side of the apocalypse.”

Logan sighed heavily, rubbing a hand down his face. “Just get on with it.”

“Fine, Dad. Merry Christmas to you too,” Wade quipped, rolling his eyes with exaggerated flair before grabbing Logan’s hand in both of his own and yanking him down the hall. “Now, let’s go kick some ass and maybe commit a light sprinkling of felonies. You know, festive bonding shit.”

As they moved deeper into the facility, the sterile, fluorescent-lit corridor stretched ahead of them, the silence broken only by the soft hum of the overhead lights.

Then came the sound of footsteps—heavy, deliberate, and closing in fast. Wade grinned, tightening his grip on his katanas. “Looks like Santa brought us some company, claws. Let’s deck some halls, huh?”

Logan didn’t need any encouragement. With a low growl, he unsheathed his claws, the sharp snikt echoing through the corridor as he stepped forward, his body coiled like a predator ready to strike. He moved like a force of nature, silent and precise, as he closed the distance to the first guard. A single slash of his claws sent the man’s weapon clattering to the floor, disarmed and incapacitated in one swift motion.

“Efficient,” Wade muttered, watching Logan’s attack with mock approval as he spun to face the second guard. “But boring as fuck. Allow me to demonstrate a little pizzazz.”

With that, Wade sprang into action, his body a blur of chaotic, almost balletic movement. He twirled his katanas with an unnecessary flourish, the blades catching the harsh light as he closed the gap between himself and the second guard.

“Hi there, asshole!” Wade greeted brightly, dodging the guard’s swing with an exaggerated lean that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else. “Just here to fuck up your night and, oh, probably your face too.”

He spun around the guard, his katanas slicing through the air with precision as he disarmed the man in a series of movements so unnecessarily theatrical they resembled a choreographed dance. “What’s the matter? Not a fan of my interpretive violence routine? It’s called ‘Death by Sexy,’ and you’re the star of tonight’s performance!”

Logan glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Wade land a sharp kick to the guard’s chest, sending him sprawling to the floor. Wade stood over the fallen man, tapping the flat of one blade against his shoulder as if considering his next move.

“You know,” Wade mused aloud, his tone conversational as though they were discussing the weather, “I could totally just knock you out and call it a day, but where’s the fun in that? So, here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna—”

“Wade,” Logan growled, cutting him off with an impatient glare. “We don’t have time for your goddamn monologues.”

“Fucking killjoy,” Wade muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as he turned and tossed the second guard’s weapon down the hallway with the flourish of someone tossing an ornament onto a tree. “Fine, fine. Ass officially kicked. Happy now, Mr. Buzzkill?”

Logan grunted in response, already moving toward the next objective with the determination of someone trying to beat the holiday rush. Wade twirled his katanas one last time before sheathing them with a flair so dramatic it could have been mistaken for a festive ribbon flourish. He glanced back at the groaning guards behind him, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Don’t worry, boys. You’ll have plenty of time to recover while reminiscing about how badly I whooped your asses. Consider it my early Christmas gift to you. You’re welcome!”

Wade crouched over the unconscious guard sprawled on the cold concrete floor, his hands moving with the speed and precision of someone who had done this far too many times. His fingers rifled through the guard’s jacket pockets, then dipped into his pants pockets without an ounce of hesitation. “Jesus Christ, what are these uniforms made of? Kevlar and shame? Fuck, does he not have a goddamn keycard? Come on, pal, don’t make me dig in your underwear. Although, knowing me, I’d make it work.”

With a triumphant shout, Wade yanked a thin, rectangular card out of an inner pocket. He leapt to his feet, holding it aloft like he’d just won the fucking lottery. “Ha! Found it! God, I’m amazing. I mean, really, Logan, sometimes I even impress myself. And I do not impress easily.” He spun around to face Logan, tossing the keycard at him with an exaggerated flick of his wrist. Logan caught it mid-air, his stoic expression unchanging.

“Here, Mr. Responsible,” Wade continued, a wide, shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “Open the damn vault so we can bask in the glory of my brilliance. And maybe get you a personality transplant while we’re at it. You’re welcome.”

Logan rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he approached the reader. He swiped the keycard through with practiced ease, and the door let out a sharp hiss before sliding open to reveal a room that looked straight out of a billionaire’s wet dream.

The walls were lined with shelves overflowing with priceless artifacts—ancient sculptures, glittering jewels, stacks of cash neatly bundled in plastic. But Wade didn’t even glance at any of it. His eyes zeroed in on the back of the room, where a single pedestal sat under a spotlight, cradling what had to be the most unremarkable object in the entire building: a dusty VHS tape.

“There it is,” Wade whispered, his voice dropping an octave into something almost reverent. The snark vanished from his tone as he took a cautious step forward, like approaching a rare, endangered animal. His boots scuffed against the floor as he crossed the room, his fingers twitching with anticipation.

He reached the pedestal and gingerly picked up the tape, holding it with the kind of care usually reserved for newborns or rare, fragile artifacts. “Die Hard,” he breathed, his eyes wide and glittering with awe. “In fucking Esperanto. I’ve done it. My life is complete. I can die happy now."

Logan crossed his arms, watching Wade with a mixture of disbelief and faint amusement, his gruff voice laced with dry sarcasm. "This is what we risked our lives for?"

“Hell. Fucking. Yeah,” Wade shot back, his tone dripping with giddy defiance as he clutched the VHS tape to his chest like it was the Ark of the Covenant. He pressed it to his cheek, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “You see this, boo? This isn’t just a VHS tape—it’s a goddamn piece of history. Bruce Willis should canonize me for this shit. I’m a fucking hero.”

Logan exhaled deeply, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot, that’s what you are.”

“Idiocy,” Wade began, holding up a finger like a smug professor about to deliver a lecture, “is just another word for courage… said no one, ever, but fuck it. Let’s roll with it. Now, let’s blow this popsicle stand before one of those drones grows a pair and tries to roast my jingle bells.”

With the tape tucked securely under one arm, Wade led the charge out of the building, his red suit catching the faint glow of a string of twinkling holiday lights strung haphazardly along a guard’s desk. He darted through the hallways with the kind of reckless confidence that only he could pull off, humming Jingle Bell Rock under his breath. Logan followed behind, grumbling like a grizzled Scrooge, his claws at the ready in case anyone dared interrupt their escape.

“You know,” Wade called over his shoulder, “this would be way more festive if the guards were wearing little Santa hats or, like, had candy cane batons. Missed opportunity, really. Corporate America, I tell ya, no imagination these days.”

Logan groaned. “Can you shut up for five seconds?”

“Not a chance, Frosty. Someone’s gotta keep the holiday spirit alive while you brood your way through the halls of Ho-Ho-Horrors.” Wade threw a glance back, smirking. “And let me just say, your claws would make excellent stocking stuffers. Bet you never thought of that.”

The duo narrowly avoided a hovering drone, Wade hurling an impressive string of profanities at it as they ducked around a corner. “Nice try, motherfucker! You can’t touch this. I’m like MC Hammer but with better abs and a hotter ass.” He flipped the bird at the camera mounted on the drone, holding it in place just a second too long as Logan physically dragged him toward the exit.

Once they burst onto the street, Wade threw his arms up like he’d just won the goddamn Super Bowl. “Freedom! Sweet, glorious freedom! And tacos!” He turned to Logan with a grin that was almost manic. “We’re celebrating. Right now. No ifs, ands, or grumpy fucking buts.”

Logan scowled, already regretting the inevitable. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am. Serious as your stupidly furrowed brow. We just survived death drones, laser grids, and at least three guards who probably hate their lives as much as you do. We earned this.” Wade was already halfway down the snowy street, his boots crunching against the frost-dusted pavement as he gestured wildly for Logan to follow. “Come on, big guy. Tacos wait for no man—or holiday!”

The faint glimmer of string lights from a nearby shop window cast a warm glow on the icy sidewalk, and Logan muttered a string of curses under his breath as he trudged after Wade. They arrived at a rickety taco stand nestled into the corner of a dimly lit block, its small garland of blinking red and green lights blinking unevenly around the menu board. The smell of sizzling meat, freshly chopped cilantro, and a hint of cinnamon from a nearby street vendor selling roasted nuts filled the air. Wade practically threw himself at the counter, his breath fogging in the cold night as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

“Look at this!” Wade exclaimed, pointing at the menu board decorated with a crooked paper snowflake. “Festive and delicious. It's a Christmas miracle, Claws! Alright, listen up, my tortilla-wielding saviors,” Wade began, addressing the taco stand workers with a dramatic flourish. “I need three carne asadas, four pollo, two of whatever the fuck is on special, extra guac on everything, and enough hot sauce to set my intestines on fire. Oh, and throw in a churro. Daddy’s feeling fancy tonight.”

The man behind the counter gave him a long, skeptical look, then glanced at Logan, who stood a few feet away with his arms crossed and a look of weary resignation on his face. “Is he for real?” the worker asked.

“Unfortunately,” Logan replied, his voice as flat as the griddle behind the counter, the faint hum of Christmas music in the background doing little to soften his tone.

“Damn right I’m for real,” Wade interjected, slapping a hand against the counter with enough force to rattle the nearby pepper shaker adorned with a festive Santa hat. “Do I look like a man who messes around when it comes to tacos? No. I am the fucking Michelangelo of taco consumption. Watch and learn, Logan.”

“You’re addicted to this crap,” Logan muttered, shaking his head as Wade’s excitement only seemed to grow, his eyes darting to a tacky string of blinking red and green lights strung along the edge of the counter.

“And you’re addicted to me,” Wade shot back, flashing him a wink so exaggerated it looked like his entire face might cramp.

Logan responded with a low grunt, the kind that could mean anything—annoyance, reluctant agreement, or just sheer disbelief at the bullshit he willingly put up with. Wade, however, chose to interpret it as an admission of undying love, and his grin widened.

The pair sat at a rickety, graffiti-covered outdoor table, the kind that screamed health code violation waiting to happen. A string of mismatched lights dangled above them, flickering sporadically like they couldn’t decide whether to commit to functioning or give up entirely. The air smelled of grease, stale beer, and a faint hint of desperation—all of which Wade found utterly intoxicating.

While Logan sat nursing his beer, Wade dove headfirst into a towering plate of tacos with the finesse of a rabid animal. Salsa dripped down his chin, a stray piece of lettuce clung to his mask, and his suit bore the brunt of a guacamole explosion. He didn’t seem to care—or notice.

“This,” Wade said around a mouthful of food, gesturing wildly with a half-eaten taco, “is what fucking happiness looks like, Logan. You see this shit? Pure, unadulterated joy. You wouldn’t get it, though, Mr. Brood-and-Scowl. You’re probably allergic to happiness. Or maybe tacos. Or both. Wouldn’t fucking surprise me.”

Logan shook his head, his lips twitching as if he were holding back a smile. “You’re a goddamn tornado,” he muttered, watching Wade tear through another taco like it had personally insulted him. His voice carried that familiar mix of exasperation and the barest hint of amusement, like he couldn’t decide whether to punch Wade or laugh at him.

Wade froze mid-chew, one hand dramatically clutching his chest. He swallowed hard, then smacked the table with his free hand, making the plates rattle. “A tornado? A fucking tornado? You wound me, Logan. I prefer to think of myself as a hurricane of brilliance. Or maybe a fucking earthquake of charm. But a tornado? That’s just low. Low, even for you, you hairy fuck.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You done?”

“Not even close,” Wade shot back, waving a taco in Logan’s direction for emphasis. “You think you’re so goddamn cool with your grumpy-ass lumberjack aesthetic and your gravelly ‘I don’t give a shit’ attitude. But deep down, you fucking love this. Admit it. You love the chaos. You love me.” He punctuated the last word with a wink so lewd it should’ve been illegal, his eyes twinkling like festive holiday lights.

Logan leaned back in his chair, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his beer. “You’re exhausting.”

“And you’re predictable,” Wade quipped, pointing at him with a greasy finger. “But here we are. You. Me. Tacos. The fucking dream team. So shut up and enjoy the goddamn night, Logan."

Logan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as Wade grinned triumphantly, bits of cilantro still clinging to his teeth like tiny festive ornaments.

When they finally stumbled back to the apartment, the building's flickering hallway light cast ominous shadows on the chipped walls, reminiscent of a run-down advent calendar with doors you weren’t quite sure you wanted to open. Wade fished out his keys with a dramatic flourish, jingling them like sleigh bells before unlocking the door. "Welcome to Casa de Fuckery," he proclaimed, throwing the door open as if unveiling a surprise Christmas morning gift—one you’d definitely want to return.

He waltzed inside, immediately kicking his boots off with enough force to send one sailing into the corner and the other smacking into the wall with a dull thud, narrowly missing a string of fairy lights haphazardly draped over a coat rack. "Make yourself at home—just don’t touch anything sharp, sticky, or suspiciously festive. Actually, fuck it. Touch whatever you want. Mi casa, su casa, claws. Consider it my gift to you, ya grinch."

Logan followed him in, the scent of old takeout and something vaguely metallic hitting his nose like a brick wall. He scowled at the sight of the familiar chaos: half-empty soda cans, mismatched furniture that looked like it had been salvaged from a dumpster fire, and what appeared to be a katana propped up in an empty cereal box. "You live like this?" Logan grumbled, his gravelly voice dripping with disapproval as he scanned the disaster zone.

"Live? No, no, no, I thrive like this," Wade shot back, flopping onto the couch with a loud groan, as if he’d just completed the hardest mission of his life. He held up the VHS tape with both hands like it was the Holy Grail, his eyes wide with faux reverence. "And tonight, my hairy, judgmental friend, we transcend. You ready for some top-tier, grade-A, primo-ass Die Hard magic? The Esperanto dub. Fucking cultural enlightenment, baby."

Logan didn’t answer right away, choosing instead to step over a pile of suspiciously crusty laundry and head toward the fridge. He yanked the door open with a grunt, scanning the sparse contents: three beers, an unmarked Tupperware container he refused to investigate, and what appeared to be an expired jar of pickles. He grabbed two beers, cracking one open as he turned back to Wade.

"Beer me, claws!" Wade called from the couch, patting the cushion beside him. "Come on, don’t be shy. There’s room in this magical shit show for the both of us."

Logan trudged over, handing one of the bottles to Wade. Their fingers brushed briefly, and Wade raised an eyebrow, shooting Logan a smirk that was half-amused, half-suggestive. "Ooh, hand-touching. Scandalous. Next thing you know, we’re picking out curtains together. Fucking domestic bliss, am I right?"

Logan ignored the jab, muttering something unintelligible under his breath as he sat down beside him, keeping a small but deliberate amount of space between them. Wade cracked open his beer with a flourish, spilling a bit of foam onto his already stained shirt. He didn’t care, taking a long swig before setting the bottle on the cluttered coffee table, right next to a half-eaten chimichanga.

"So," Wade began, holding the VHS tape up again and turning it over like he was examining a priceless artifact. "You think Bruce Willis knew, in his balding, action-hero glory, that one day his masterpiece would be immortalized in the motherfucking universal language of love? Because I’m telling you, claws, this is fate. This is destiny. This is what we were put on this Earth to do tonight."

Logan shrugged, his expression a perfect mix of boredom and mild irritation. "Just put the damn tape in."

"Patience, Grandpa!" Wade said, wagging a finger at him before hopping up from the couch with more energy than anyone should have after the night they’d had. "This isn’t just a movie. It’s an experience, like sipping hot cocoa by the fire or listening to Mariah Carey on repeat—festive as hell, and experiences take fucking time. Now sit tight while I find the VCR… which is probably under one of these pizza boxes. Or tangled up in those Christmas lights I was totally going to hang. Shit, I don’t even know anymore."

Wade eventually came bounding back into the room, triumphantly holding the dust-covered VCR aloft like it was the Holy Grail. “Behold, motherfuckin’ technology!” he declared, his voice practically vibrating with excitement. “This baby right here? State-of-the-art. Cutting edge. Straight outta the dark ages when people had to rewind shit by hand. By hand, Logan. Do you even comprehend the barbarity?”

Logan, who had been nursing a beer and silently questioning all his life choices under the soft glow of a string of mismatched Christmas lights Wade had half-assedly strung around the living room, grunted noncommittally. “Just plug it in, Wade.”

“Plug it in, Wade,” Wade mimicked in a high-pitched voice, sticking out his tongue as he crouched in front of the TV, his red-and-green socks peeking out from under his pants. “Bossy-ass lumberjack, can’t even appreciate the holiday miracle that is vintage porn—err, I mean, cinema. You’re lucky I love you, you grumpy Christmas tree of a man.”

“Love’s a strong word,” Logan muttered, watching Wade wrestle with the VCR like it was a rabid reindeer.

“Yeah, well, so is fuck you, but I haven’t said that to you yet tonight, so maybe write that in your letter to Santa,” Wade shot back, finally jamming the VCR into place with a loud clunk. “There. Merry fucking Christmas, Panasonic.”

The merc-with-a-mouth grabbed the remote and flopped onto the couch beside Logan with zero grace, sprawling out like he owned the place. His boots hung off the armrest, one sock was mysteriously missing, and there was already a suspicious smudge of salsa on his shirt from earlier. “Alright, Logie Bear, let’s get this cinematic fuckfest rolling,” Wade said, jabbing at the remote. “Prepare to have your hairy little mind blown.”

Logan leaned back, resting his arm along the top of the couch as the screen flickered to life with a low hum. Wade shifted closer, shoving Logan’s thigh with his elbow until Logan sighed and adjusted his arm, letting it settle over Wade’s shoulders.

“See? That’s more like it,” Wade muttered, leaning into him with a satisfied grunt. “Big ol’ grump finally giving in to my snuggly charms. You’re a goddamn marshmallow, admit it.”

“Shut up, Wade,” Logan said, but his tone lacked any real bite. His fingers tightened slightly on Wade’s shoulder, pulling him closer as the opening credits of Die Hard began to roll.

Wade exhaled, his body sinking into Logan’s side like he belonged there. His head rested against Logan’s chest, and for once, his mouth stopped moving. Almost.

“You know,” Wade whispered after a moment, absently running his fingers over Logan’s knee in slow, deliberate patterns, “Bruce Willis should’ve won, like, a thousand Oscars for this shit. Fuckin’ masterpiece. I mean, Die Hard in Esperanto? This is the goddamn pinnacle of human achievement. Screw the moon landing.”

Logan smirked, his gaze fixed on the screen, the faint twinkle of Christmas lights from the corner of the room casting a soft glow. “Thought you were gonna shut up.”

“And miss the opportunity to enlighten you with my superior holiday-themed film commentary? Ho, ho, hell no.” Wade raised his beer in a dramatic toast, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as snowflakes danced silently outside the window. “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker.”

Logan couldn’t suppress the low chuckle that rumbled in his chest as he clinked his bottle gently against Wade’s. “Yippee-ki-yay, Wade.”

The warm glow of the TV flickered over them, mingling with the soft hum of the movie and the faint scent of pine from the slightly crooked tree in the corner. Wade leaned just a little closer, his head brushing against Logan’s shoulder, and Logan didn’t pull away. Instead, his arm shifted ever so slightly, settling around Wade’s back in a gesture of quiet affection.

In that moment, the chaos of their lives seemed to melt into the background, like the last traces of snow on a fire-lit street. The room was filled with nothing but the soft murmur of dialogue, the glow of twinkling lights, and the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. For Logan, as he held Wade just a little closer, that was more than enough.

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htpssgavi · 6 months ago

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A Catalonian Love Story

It was an unusually warm evening in Barcelona, the kind of evening that hinted at the summer's promise. The sun had just begun to set, casting a golden hue over the city's iconic architecture. Gavi, fresh from a victorious match at Camp Nou, decided to unwind by taking a walk through the narrow streets of El Born, his favorite part of the city.Y/n, a young woman from a small town, had moved to Barcelona to pursue her dream of becoming an artist. The city's vibrant culture and stunning landscapes had always inspired her, and tonight, she was capturing the sunset with her camera in the very same neighborhood.As she focused on the perfect shot, she heard a group of young men approaching, their laughter and banter filling the street. She looked up just as Gavi's eyes met hers. There was an instant connection, an unspoken understanding between them."Excuse me," Gavi said, stepping away from his friends, "Do you mind if I take a look at your photos? The sunset looks beautiful from here."Y/n, slightly taken aback but intrigued, handed him her camera. Gavi flipped through the pictures, genuinely impressed by her talent. "These are incredible. You have a real gift.""Thank you," she replied, blushing slightly. "I love capturing moments that tell a story."Gavi smiled. "I feel the same way about football. It's all about those moments that can change everything."They continued to talk, walking together through the labyrinthine streets of El Born. They discovered they had more in common than they initially thought. Both of them had left behind their small-town roots to chase their dreams in Barcelona. They shared stories of their struggles, their triumphs, and the sacrifices they had made.Over the following weeks, Gavi and y/n spent more time together. He would often find her sketching or taking photographs around the city, and she would attend his matches, cheering him on from the stands. Their bond grew stronger with each passing day, a blend of friendship and budding romance.

One evening, Gavi took y/n to a secluded spot overlooking the city. The view was breathtaking, with the Sagrada Familia illuminated in the distance and the Mediterranean Sea shimmering under the moonlight. They sat down on a bench, the city sprawled out below them."I wanted to share this view with you," Gavi said, his voice soft. "It's one of my favorite places in the city.""It's beautiful," y/n replied, gazing at the twinkling lights below. "Thank you for bringing me here."Gavi turned to her, his eyes filled with emotion. "Y/n, you've changed my life in ways I never thought possible. You see the world with such beauty and grace, and you've taught me to do the same. I don't want to imagine my life without you."Y/n looked into his eyes, feeling a surge of emotion. "I feel the same way, Gavi. You've shown me that dreams can come true, and that love can be found in the most unexpected places."Under the starry sky, they shared their first kiss, a kiss that sealed their love and commitment to one another. It was a kiss that spoke of a future filled with shared dreams and endless possibilities.

As time went on, their love story continued to blossom. Gavi became a star on the football field, with y/n by his side, capturing every moment with her camera and her heart. They traveled the world together, exploring new places and creating memories that would last a lifetime.Their weekends were filled with adventures. They hiked the trails of Montjuïc, kayaked along the Costa Brava, and danced the night away during the festivals that lit up the city. They visited art galleries, where y/n would lose herself in the masterpieces, explaining their significance to Gavi, who listened with rapt attention.

@spidybaby

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shiro-00s · 2 years ago

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heaven on earth

41. one step closer .. !

[ genshin impact smau / idol!xiao x fem!reader ]

The sky was pretty, especially today. There were a few lanterns that were already up in the sky, illuminating the sky with spots of yellow here and there. The festival had a ton of small festive shops, selling traditional masks, and a few fun games. All leading up to the main attraction. The stage.

Among all the attractive stores, nothing could take away the glory that the stage presents, the kind that catches everyone’s eyes. It stood tall among the festival, a view you could see from any angle, and was included in every selfie taken.

The outdoor concert had a whole area to itself, a space waiting to be filled with loads and loads of people, and you had no doubt that it would be filled to the brim. The stage lights illuminate the large stage in the center of the space, giving the platform a much-needed spotlight. A few speakers that looked like they could destroy an eardrum were placed on the stage along with fog machines.

You nervously handed the staff the ticket gifted by your dear friend, Hutao, who you really wanted to strangle because of the dilemma she put you in, an all-or-nothing. You’d have given them a heads up, telling them to meet up with you but you hadn’t contacted a single soul about you coming to this concert.

Why? You had a huge ego. And you really, really didn’t want anyone to know that you were going to Xiao’s concert.

After the whole fiasco with Xiao-Yujin, the internet was skeptical, rightfully, due to it coming from PAIMON, who was the master at making things up. You were skeptical as well, but you were petty and you didn’t really want to go out of your way to ask him. Well, you’re doing it now.

So, after making up your mind about coming to Xiao’s concert - which took a long time - you reluctantly came to the concert with the words Hutao told you lingering in the back of your mind.

It’s about honoring his lost companions.

When the staff had verified your ticket, you looked around for something to do before the concert started. In an attempt to distract yourself, you found a small store that sold and taught the art of crocheting. Well, it does look cute. Why not?

A lady in her early 40s greeted you kindly, a gentle smile on her face as she showed you around the neat stall. When you seemed a little too puzzled, she asked, “Are there any crocheted flowers you’re looking for, dear?”

You blinked. Oh, that startled you.

You didn’t think the lady was one to talk but it seemed you were wrong. Shaking your head, you replied with a small ‘I’m afraid not.’ and a sheepish grin. The lady hummed at your response, looking around at her flowers before finally asking, “Who are you planning to give it to?”

You inhale, “Do you think I’m going to give it to someone?” Chuckling, your eyes scanned around for a simple flower, or anything pretty really, you didn’t mind. Since the lady was nice, you’d give it a shot, for her sake. You’ll give it to Hutao or Xiangling. Whatever.

The nice lady smiled, looking as if she was feeling some nostalgia before saying, “I’m well aware of the look in your eyes. I had the same one when I was your age, you know? Those longing eyes as if you’re waiting for someone.”

Suddenly you wish you didn’t enter this store or come to this festival.

Relaxing your shoulders and neck, you hunched down a little to stare at the flower that caught your eyes at the bottom of the stall.

“I don’t know. Really.”

The lady beside you crouched down to the same level as you, resting her face on her hand as she smiled a little before pointing at the flowers your eyes laid upon.

“Those are hyacinthus. If we’re talking about Greek mythology, Hyacinth is a divine hero who falls in love with Apollo and chooses him over 3 other beings.” She paused, picking up the hyacinthus and grabbing your wrist gently with her free hand.

“But eventually, he was killed accidentally by Apollo. Then he was resurrected again, by his lover and was gifted with immortality as well.” She let the flowers fall into your hands softly, the three crochet hyacinth flowers laying atop each other.

“That’s why its symbolism is devotion beyond the depths of life and death.”

Over the next thirty minutes, more people arrived at the festival along with the concert. The empty space from before had transformed into a mob of people. If you lose something here, you’re never getting it back. That’s why you held onto the flowers with a tight grip even if you didn’t have plans to give them to anyone. Totally.

Your hands were clammy from having to glance around you every 5 seconds in case one of your friends saw you. To say that you were dreading meeting them was an understatement. You’d dig the floor and bury yourself alive if they saw even a glimpse of you.

Reaching for your phone to look at the clock, the sound of a loud screeching noise reached your ears. The noise of microphone feedback alerted everyone to the beginning of a thrilling performance. The anticipation in the air was visible, and the atmosphere filled with excitement and eagerness of the crowd.

The beam lights lit up one after another from the left to the right, the floodlights following right after. The stage, the one piece of art that held the attention of everyone, was then adorned with shining bright lights. The soft glow highlighted the display of the new presence.

Along the stage stood four well-known individuals, the spotlights captured each artist in their glory, possessing an aura demanding attention. The crowd erupted into applause and gasps, the wildness they’ve been since the start. The presence of each spoke volume, all of which were hard to ignore. Each of them had a headset engraved to the side of their face around the ear and the mic extending to their lips. Their outfits are all unique and well-planned, matching the theme of the festival by adding a little bit of gold and black, which complemented their bodies greatly. Especially, Xiao, you think. You’re caught off-guard when the familiar dark-haired man’s head twisted and turned, almost as if he was looking for something - someone. You felt a little satisfied at the sight, the gears turning in your head even if you’re not too sure.

The soft sound of the instruments started to play in the background almost immediately, catching the audience by surprise. The first voice to speak is a feminine voice. Confusion erupted in the audience as none of the mouths on the stage looked as though they were moving.

That was until a certain figure walked onto the stage. Yunjin was dressed with a black corset above her black crop top that seemed to hug her curves well. Her skirt was adorned with golden trinkets and intricate patterns. On top of her clothing, she wore multiple accessories that matched the outfit significantly with her pastel-colored headband of flowers and a short warm white scarf around her neck.

Other voices joined in soon yet your attention laid still on one specific person, one you’re unable to tear your eyes away from. Even as people around you started to bump lightly into you from swaying to the music, your eyes refused to move from the spot they had settled on. Xiao and his pretty, pretty eyes.

His body moved along with the beats of the song, lips softly opening and closing as he sang with his members. Wearing a dark-colored jacket, his clothing is layered with another white button-up shirt underneath and if you looked very closely, you might just be able to see his abs - okay, enough. The point is, you’ve never appreciated someone as much as you did with the person who arranged Xiao’s outfit because the conclusion is that you had never seen anyone as majestic as Xiao and you didn’t believe you ever will for the rest of your life.

Even his navy slacks looked perfect while he danced to the choreography which you believed was carefully planned, anyone could tell even if they didn’t know anything about dancing. You’re not sure how he moved with those slightly heeled boots or shoes, you don’t know and you don’t care. The question is how he moved so smoothly even with those heavy shoes that you knew you would fall and trip on if you wore them?

When your eyes returned to his golden ones, you noticed the pupils shooting in all directions, searching the VIPS, the front, the reserved, the platinum, the platinum plus - you get the point.

You doubted he would be able to spot you in this… what? Fifty thousand hoards of people? That’s an estimate but it was way too crowded and even though your spot wasn’t too far from the stage, he wouldn’t be able to possibly find you like this, right?

Yea, wrong. Because as soon as your thought process ended, the flash of golden eyes seemed to glance across your own and stopped for more than a second - before seemingly relaxing and tearing his gaze away. Though it was just a moment, everything had started to drown out in the background, going quiet before all you can think about is - Xiao, Xiao, Xiao.

After snapping out of your thoughts, one thing you can confirm after listening to the lyrics and melody was that it was indeed a rather solemn story that had been turned into a song. It matched the description that Hutao told you about. The need to comfort Xiao clawed at the back of your throat. You’d have to hold it back until the concert ended. Wait, what?

No, the plan was to watch and leave. But… ahaha.

The concert seemed to pass like a blur in your memories, your lack of focus only helped in not being aware of your surroundings because - oops, you just bumped into some crazily tall dude with hair longer than half of your body? Those odd professional clothing made him look wild but weirdly cool, but to be real, why did he choose them out of everything to wear to a concert? Multiple layers of different shades of brown and a mix of white or gray in this humid and stifling atmosphere.

He seemed more shocked than you it seems, but you’re sure it’s not your clothes because he was looking straight at your face, not your outfit. The brown-haired ponytailed man opened his mouth to speak to you, which is odd because you didn’t know this man, did you?

“Is your name, [name], by any chance? Which, of course, if it’s not, you’re free to say so.”

Okay. Definitely a stalker or something, run.

In contrast to your light-speed thoughts, your body stood still in its spot, not making any attempt to move. Then, against your better judgment, you muttered, “Yea, who are you?”, accompanied by a raise of your brow and a step back.

At your response, his lips seemed to quirk up, a ghost of a heartwarming smile on his face as he reached a hand out to you.

“I go by Zhongli, may I have a moment with you, [name]?”

On the other hand, the concert had just ended. The fatigue and a thirst for water washed over Xiao quickly as he rushed to grab a bottle before trying to slip away to find… someone.

However, a deep voice reached his ears, “Xiao! Don’t go yet, wait for a while!”

God he wished he could just turn around and punch the smiling ginger head waving at him from across the backstage, he had had enough of Childe and him intervening. A sign came from Xiao before he turned back to Childe, mind racing for an excuse so that he can leave him behind and slip away to find you. Just as Xiao’s lips parted, Childe had taken the initiative.

“Before you say anything, I know where you’re going, who you’re planning to find, what you’re going to do.”

That shut Xiao up even if it wasn’t like Xiao was a particularly talkative person. His brow twitched at the knowledge the older male had, annoyance dripping from his tone as he spoke.

“Okay? Bye then.”

Xiao turned away to walk towards the decreasing crowd, grieving the time that he lost spent with Childe. At his actions, the ginger sighed, long and exasperated. Not having the energy to physically deal with Xiao, he decided to use his words, “Zhongli said he told her to go to the place, that place. You know what I’m talking about.”

Pause.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

Xiao believed wholeheartedly he had never felt emotions on this level. Hell, he never really felt any more than annoyance like this. Xiao thinks you’ve been changing him. Little by little, piece by piece, he’ll become an ordinary person going about with his day. Just like how they would’ve wanted.

Shaking away his thoughts, he took small steps towards the area informed by Childe just a moment ago and a while ago through dms when he asked Childe for vacant places with a magnificent view. He didn’t know whether he wanted to run there, reach out for you and just stare at you for a good while or walk slow, slow steps, so that his hopes didn’t get crushed by the possibility that you didn’t listen to Zhongli.

The grass tickled the black shoes that he changed to after the concert due to the initial pair of boots literally being impossible to walk with. The wind is gentle, the view is just as he had described to Childe, ethereal. But, maybe not more than you.

Liyue as a whole could be seen from this spot in the mountains, the warm yellow lights from lanterns illuminating the dark sky and the city, the city he never thought could look this breathtaking. Shivers went down his spine as he continued to look around. The night looked especially pretty tonight.

Just as he thought he wouldn’t be able to find anything prettier on this extraordinary night, an almost silent sound of rustling nearby. When he looked up, sweet amber eyes met your wide ones. An expression of relief fell on his face as his eyes scanned you. Then, he concluded that maybe, he had a special view specifically meant for him. You looked divine.

Wait. What? You guys were friends, he shouldn’t have such thoughts. Do friends think of each other this way? Ugh, his head is spinning.

After a moment, you reached your hand out to gesture at him to take a seat beside you on the green grass. He hesitantly took his spot beside yours, shuffling to make himself comfortable as he admired the view.

Silence took over soon after, both too hesitant and unknowing of what to say, and what not to say. But then again, with this view, on this night, on the top of this little hill, it felt right. It felt right that he knew he couldn’t mess up, this could be an ultimate moment for the two of you. A memory to make.

“[Name], you listened to the song I sang earlier.”

Confusion was etched on your face as you turned your head to face the dark-haired man, blinking rapidly at him before responding with a small nod.

“I wrote it. About the people who were- are special to me.” It’s hard opening up to people. He cringed at the mistake he made with that sentence. Although, he couldn’t really call it a mistake, could he?

“I lived in an orphanage once, along with four other kids who were older than me. That time I was like how I am now, quiet, but they got me to open up in a short time.” Xiao’s slender fingers curled up against the grass, looking solemn as he continued. “Especially the oldest one there, Bosacius.”

Your heart warmed up at his words, brushing your knuckles against his curled-up hand in an attempt to bring comfort to him. You had not heard about his life before, and it hurt to know that he went through hard times. You tilted your head to the side a little, an invitation for him to continue.

He cleared his throat before gazing back at the lanterns slowly rising to reach out to the sky, “They were everything to me, my family. Along with Zhongli, who was the one that helped fund us and visited us a lot. Madame Ping, too. She was our caretaker. Apparently, Zhongli was friends with her, I learned that later on.”

Xiao breathed a long breath before continuing with his talking. You were happy to get to know his found family, but he looked sorrowful as he talked. Maybe something bad happened between them?

“It was the best of times, but good things never last.” This time, his words were muttered, and quieter, as if he was trying to stop himself from speaking.

“Our house. It got caught on fire.” Xiao took a big breath before concluding, “They, uhm, didn’t make it out. Was it some electrical fault? I didn’t bother to remember. I was too shocked to think.” Your eyes widened, you didn’t expect him to drop a bomb on you like that. You couldn’t muster up a reply to something like that. So instead of a verbal response, you hesitantly uncurled his fisted fingers and laced yours through them, stroking his skin with your palm.

Xiao took your physical touch as a sign of showing your condolences without pitying him. His heart warmed at the thought, heart beating a little faster. “Bosacius carried me from our bedroom to the hallway with the entrance. He was trying to do the same for others, too. But it didn’t work out quite well.” The last words were whispered, his head hunched down to his knees.

You tightened your grip on your laced fingers, bumping his shoulder with yours as you finally mustered up something to say to Xiao - for the first time today. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry that happened to you.” Tone softening to accommodate the solemn atmosphere and an attempt to say something meaningful to him after he opened up to you. That explains the song, too.

Unexpectedly, Xiao turned to you with a refreshed look on his face, as he - out of nowhere - asked, “Did you enjoy the concert?” Like a lost puppy, his eyes stared into your shocked ones. After a few moments of silence, you decided on the best answer you can come up with.

“Yeah, you were awesome.” From bumping your shoulders to leaning your head slightly on his shoulder, sure it's a big leap. But, you didn’t receive any sort of rejection from the male beside you. On the other hand, his heart rate told you a different story. His usually steady heart rate had turned more erratic, you couldn't blame him either when your own matched his unsteady beats.

"That PAIMON tweet is an exaggeration." Xiao muttered into the silence of the air. At those unexpected words, you laughed wholly, as if you couldn't guess that already. But oh well, his reassurance did sound nice. Xiao was in his own little world, his thoughts consisted of how nice and soothing the sound of your sweet laughter was. A small smile bloomed onto his pretty face, watching you smile back at him with a grin.

A night has never felt more meaningful than it did now, with your head on his shoulder and a cute smile on your face directed at him, Xiao wouldn't have it any other way. And if there's one thing Xiao concluded from today, it was that he was in love with a certain gremlin.

"Oh! Here, I almost forgot." Golden eyes blinked at the crocheted hyacinthus between your fingers, glancing between the flowers and you. Exasperated at his obliviousness, you gestured for him to take them, quirking up a brow.

He suddenly seemed flustered as he shyly took the flowers from your hand, mumbling a "Thank you…?"

A sudden urge to make him more flustered crossed your mind.

"You should search up the meaning of hyacinthus later, by the way."

Xiao gulped before nodding his head slightly, looking back up at the now empty sky. He seemed to only realize now how much time has actually passed.

"Oh, shall we leave?" You mumbled, bringing up your phone from your pocket before looking at the time and collecting your things laying around on the grass. Xiao stood up before you, standing in front of you as he sheepishly reached out his hand to you - for what? The third time today?

You shook your head lightly, laughing slightly before placing your hand on his open ones as he lifted you up.

"What a gentleman."

heaven on earth - 41. one step closer

previous | masterlist | next

synopsis ; 🗝️ — in which you befriend your next door neighbour who, unbeknownst to you, was apart of a soon-to-be one of the most popular bands throughout liyue. you're unable to tell if cupid was helping you or not when things with xiao kept going up and down. will he continue to keep his secret from yours truly?

NOTE — new chapter will be out soon bcs no more written portion for a while (ive said this like 4 times and they never go as planned 🤗🤗) !!@!@! yipee. anyways since he realized his shit its easy here on out 😝😝 rikkyu is not [name] btw her user is just that bcs i got too lazy to give her a proper one mb

TAGLIST#1 [OPEN] — @mikctp @ghostlysyntaxed @kazemiya @nnasv @gojoandelsalovechilde @candy-purple-cyanide @kissingkzuha @zyilas @lunaavity @luminescent-light @mave-in @rizakari @riikyu @kokoscutie @starsxnight @sketcheeee @softlie @izakyun @xiaxilia @the-sweet-madame @rifran @milkwithspiceyicecubes @coffeethoughtsandanxiety @rxkan7 @goodthingimsam @pomeiu @fogturtle @farelady-fate @tzu-scara143 @wonderful-worlds @cianalikesbeans @h3xi2g0n3 @jasxiao2317 @rosaryia

(ask to be added)

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chilling-seavey · 1 month ago

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Winter Warmers: Day 30 — Bondage & Christmas Lights

↳ A/N: This is for entertainment and fiction purposes only. Bondage with Christmas lights involves electrical wires and these cables are far more dangerous than standard ropes/BDSM tools and thus they are more difficult to cut in the chance of an emergency. I do not condone the use Christmas lights as bondage.

↳ Summary: George has a festive idea he wants to try.

↳ Word Count: 1123

Warnings: 18+, bondage and restraints, dirty talk, sex (unspecified if protected or unprotected)

↳ Winter Warmers Prompt List | The Way It Goes Masterlist

George wasn’t much of the type of guy to want to try crazy things in the bedroom; in all honesty, that was fine with you. The two of you found your niche and what worked in your relationship (and what didn’t) and you kept to that. There was nothing wrong with that.

So it was quite the surprise when one night, while falling into a session of heavy petting and tongue-led kissing on your bed, George broke away to declare that he wanted to try something new. It was doubly the surprise when he left the room and came back moments later with an orange extension cord.

“What the fuck is that for?” you questioned without hesitation.

“You know we like our handcuffs,” George explained with a shit-eating grin as he bent down beside the bed to plug in the extension cord, “but, what if we put a festive spin on it?”

From behind his back he pulled a brand new box of LED Christmas string lights.

Your eyebrows raised, “You’re going to do what exactly with those?”

George shrugged modestly and looked down at the box, replying passively, like it was nothing that out of the ordinary, “Tie you up.”

“Oh my God—”

“Well, just your wrists. I’m no shibari master…is that what it’s called?” George rambled as he flipped the box of lights over in his hand to skim the back. As he rambled half-nervously about all that he did not know about Japanese bondage art, you couldn’t help but admire him with a fond smile.

From your spot on the bed, you had a front row view of him standing there in only his boxers, semi-hard beneath the snug fabric, and his eyebrows furrowed deeply. It was easy to tell he was treating in unfamiliar territory — he always got a little rambly when he was nervous, talked a little too much and often got himself in deeper trouble by doing just that — but the immense trust you had in him thudded through your veins. You shifted on the bed up onto your knees and offered your wrists out to him.

Your simple action had him halting mid-sentence as he glanced over at you, his wide-eyed gaze dropping between your face and your wrists held out towards him side by side, palms up. He swallowed, “You’re sure?”

You shrugged, “Nothing we haven’t done before, really. I trust you.”

Like an electrical surge, he was throwing himself at you for a fierce kiss. You giggled into his mouth and framed his face with your hands, sharing in his eager kisses before he was pulling away, breathless and grinning.

“Okay, lay back.” he instructed, already sliding his pinky under the thin tape on the box to open it with a rip. He flipped open the flimsy cardboard lid and lifted out the perfect coil of lights.

You situated yourself back on the bed, in only your bra and panties, already smiling with anticipation. Knowing the routine well, you draped your arms above your head and overlapped your wrists.

George unraveled the string lights and bent down to plug them into the extension cord. In a flash, the entire string lit up in brilliant warm white dots of light, illuminating the room and both of your awe-struck expressions. The rawness of human wonder.

And then, George was straddling your body, a knee on each side, intensely focused as he carefully tied your wrists together in the string lights, being careful not to rip off any of the tiny bulbs or hurt you in the process. He explained that they were LEDs so they shouldn’t get hot against your skin and that he would leave them somewhat loose so if you had to break free for any reason, it wouldn’t be too difficult. He always wanted to make sure you were more than safe, no matter what.

Lastly, he looped the end of the lights through one of the posts of the bed so when he pulled on it, your tied wrists would be pulled tight towards the bed frame. With a testing tug, he smiled proudly at his handiwork.

“Good?” he asked you simply, importantly.

You nodded, “Good. Great.”

You curled your knees towards your chest in an invitation for him to take your panties off.

George got you both out of your underwear and then turned off the bedside lamps, sending the room into darkness apart from the star-like light from the string that bound you. Even in the limited lighting, you could still see the way he was smiling ear to ear as he got you both situated.

He spoke wonders to you, filthy words of lust and adoration, prepping you to take him with a generous tongue and nimble fingers, always keeping one hand on the end of the string of lights. Always in control.

He took you like that in a way that balanced on the line between fucking and making love; a precipice on which your sexual relationship thrived. Just the right amount of sweetness, just the right amount of rough, a perfect inbetween that always had you thanking your damn stars you found each other.

George tugged on the string of lights a little more, tightening the pull around your wrists, speaking down to you between breaths, “Look at my most beautiful little decoration. Prettiest little thing; so dazzling and sparkling and festive.”

You pulled your legs up towards your chest, angling them up and outwards to give him more room, to invite him deeper, panting out a pleading chant of, “Yes, yes, yes—”

“Mhm?” he twirled his hand once to wrap the string lights around his palm for a more secure grip, his eyebrows raising as he looked down at you dotted in little lights, the shadows playing off your pretty face and shuddering with every hard thrust he gave you. But almost more than this, his eyes were captivated by the way the light caught the diamond of your engagement ring, sending glints of light across the wall above the bed.

And then he set the end of the string between his teeth to give himself his hands free to yank your hips up a little more to meet his. His fingers pressed into your thighs and your hips like dough, holding you in place just where he needed you to fuck you deeply over and over and over. You wanted to stare at him, the way he looked with the lights that bound you between his teeth, casting shadows over his handsome face, but it was growing increasingly difficult as he so easily started to make stars appear in your vision.

In the tangle of Christmas lights, your hands bunched into fists of pure pleasure.

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dmitriene · 1 year ago

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— sweet surprise.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ «i just wanna be the best i can» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌«but i'm not sure if i'm the man you sold»

summary: despite the absence and exhaustion that have characterized your past anniversaries with leon, this year you are taking matters into your own hands. content: husband di leon kennedy x gn reader tags: fluff, emotional hurt x comfort, domestic leon, established relationships, kisses. author's note: heyy!!! i came to please you with a rather cute, albeit a little sad short writing with rather cute idea, so hope you're doing good and will like this one!!! enjoy your reading) 🍰

The living room held warm traces of love that deepened over time, the sunlight seeping through the curtains casting a soft glow that illuminated the space, decorated with subtle hints of the life you and Leon had built together.

Framed photographs adorned the walls, snapshots of your travels together, and the sofa was a testament to countless shared moments, worn but still incredibly comfortable.

As you walked around the room, your gaze would occasionally fall on the ring on your finger, a symbol of your enduring devotion to each other, the sight of it bringing a soft smile to your face, a silent acknowledgment of the depth of your bond.

For many couples, anniversaries were a cause for joy and celebration, but for you and Leon they often went unnoticed, consumed by the relentless demands of his missions, it wasn't that you didn't want to celebrate these special days — rather, it was Leon's concern for your well being that kept them subdued.

After all, Leon was a man of action, fiercely protective and dedicated to his duty.

He would often return home tired and burdened with the burden of what he had witnessed or experienced, on those days he would hold you close and mutter an apology, saying that he had had enough of seeing you alone and worried, his concern for your happiness touched your heart and you never insisted on celebrating anniversaries.

But today everything was different.

Today you decided to follow your wishes and show him how much he means to you, you knew exactly when he would return, since you had memorized the schedule of his missions over the years, and as the expected hour approached you were busy preparing a small celebration that would envelop him in yours love.

The room turned into a charming festive haven, ribbons of delicate flowers hung from the ceiling, gently swaying in the breeze, and heart shaped balloons floated in the air, a symbol of your enduring affection, soft, ambient lighting created an atmosphere of comfort and intimacy, an oasis of love in the midst of his turbulent world.

Your festive outfit, carefully chosen for the occasion, sparkled with subtle charm, you wanted to look your best for him, to convey how much you cherish these moments together, your heart was pounding with excitement and some nervousness as you watched your preparations.

But the star of the show was the cake, baked with love by your own hands, it sat on the dining table and was a work of art in itself, the frosting was flawless, decorated with elegant decorations reflecting pennants and balloons, and the aroma of the freshly baked cake wafted through the room, enticing and comforting.

Standing there and taking in the scene you had created you couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation, today you were determined to show Leon that even with his demanding life and frequent absences, your love for him burned brightly, you hoped that this celebration would not only will surprise him, but will also convince him that your love is unshakable, that you were together, despite the upcoming trials.

Today was the day to celebrate your love, to cherish every moment and to remind Leon that no matter how tired or tired he was, he was never truly alone — you were there to stand by his side, to love him unconditionally, and create wonderful memories together.

Minutes passed as you stood in your charmingly decorated living room, your heart pounding with anticipation, the sound of car tires crunching on the gravel road sent a wave of excitement coursing through your veins, it was time for Leon's return.

The front door creaked open and you barely had time to raise your head before the familiar figure of Leon walked inside, his rugged yet handsome appearance highlighted by the dim light of the room and his eyes widening in surprise as he was immediately overcome by a whirlwind of joy.

Without hesitation, you happily fell on top of him, hugging him tightly around the neck, a delighted laugh escaping your lips as Leon's strong arms wrapped around your waist and easily lifted you into the air, you squealed in delight as he spun you around, his lips finding your neck and face, showering you with soft, tender kisses.

His laugh mixed with yours and the world outside seemed to fade away as you both enjoyed the pure happiness of this moment, as if time stood still and nothing else mattered except the love and warmth you shared.

But when the whirlwind of emotions subsided, Leon’s sharp gaze took in the decorations and your festive outfit, it was then that he remembered the significance of this day and froze for a moment, the expression on his face changed from surprise to guilt.

— «Anniversary» he muttered, and there was regret in his voice — «I can't believe i almost forgot»

You smiled warmly, trying to ease his sudden discomfort — «It's okay Leon, i wanted to surprise you and make this day special»

He sighed, his gaze filled with a mixture of gratitude and apology — «You always do so much for me, and i continue to pursue my missions»

Before you could respond, he gently sat you down and kissed your forehead tenderly — «I need to wash my face, i'll be back now» he said in a soft and apologetic voice.

As Leon headed to the bathroom, you watched him with a mixture of confusion and concern, his sudden departure making you wonder if there was more to his reaction than met the eye.

The bathroom door closed and you couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety, especially since it seemed to linger longer than expected.

As Leon stood alone in the dimly lit bathroom, the atmosphere weighed on him.

The soft candlelight in the living room filled the hallway with a warm, muted light, creating an almost unearthly atmosphere, the decorations outside whispered the secrets of the festive that you had prepared with such care.

His hands lay on the bathroom sink as his reflection stared back at him from the mirror, unshed tears welling up in his tired eyes as he let them flow, a silent testament to the emotions he'd been holding back for far too long.

The only sound that filled the room was the soft hum of the air conditioner, punctuated from time to time by his deep, shuddering breathing, the weight of his own insecurities weighing down on him, making him feel vulnerable and unprotected.

In the midst of his thoughts, he heard the bathroom door creak open, startled, he quickly wiped away his tears, but it was too late.

You walked in, your steps soft and hesitant as you approached him, worry etched on your face, your heart pounding with worry.

— «Leon, what's wrong?» you asked quietly and your hands reached out to his cheeks with tenderness that brought tears to his eyes again, you looked into his eyes, urging him to open up.

He tried to hide the traces of his tears, but your caring gaze broke his defense.

With a heavy sigh he finally relented, his voice trembling as he spoke — «I… I was just really touched by your concern about our anniversary, i was struck by the realization that no one had ever loved me so much in my life, and it stunned me»

A bittersweet smile touched your lips as you leaned in and kissed his lips tenderly, feeling the saltiness of his lingering tears — «You are no longer alone in this, Leon, i love you with all my heart and i will always love you»

His piercing eyes met yours, distrust and gratitude shining in their depths — «I don't deserve you..» he whispered, his voice filled with vulnerability.

His confession revealed a vulnerability you rarely saw and it only deepened your affection for him, a gentle smile tugging at your lips and you couldn’t help but tease him, brushing a tear from his cheek with your thumb.

— «You're a big dummy» you whispered softly, leaning down to kiss his lips softly.

The kiss was a silent promise of your unwavering love and support for no one other than his — «You won't have to doubt for a second how much i love you»

— «Now let's go back to the living room, i've got a cake waiting for us, and you deserve every bit of this celebration»

Taking his hand, you led him out of the bathroom, leaving all thoughts of introspection and the weight of self doubt behind, the living room welcoming you both with its festive decor, still carrying the warmth of your previous surprise.

As you sat together and enjoyed a piece of homemade cake, the atmosphere changed, everything around was filled with the sweetness of your love, his quiet recognition and gratitude for being there as he squeezed your hand in his.

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sigalrm · 4 months ago

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20. FoL 2024 - 32. Haus Huth – Tunnel by Pascal Volk Via Flickr: Schwarzlichttunnel „Wonderland“

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aveartz · 4 months ago

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Mysore Palace / Dasara festivities

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slytherizz · 2 years ago

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Secret Melodies - Sebastian Sallow x Female!MC/Reader

Summary: Below the Hogwarts music room Sebastian discovers his friend has been keeping a dirty little secret

Prompt for @twitchydownfall kinkmas: Melolagnia (music kink) + Smug

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, Melolagnia (music kink), dubious consent (if you squint)

Sebastian noticed the inclination first at the Christmas feast. He was squeezed beside her on the long benches along with the rest of the students with nowhere else to go over the festive season. Professor Ronan had wrangled what was left of the choir to perform carols for the straggling student body. Just as they’d begun their first song she’d burst into a fit of nervous giggling and quickly excused herself to go to the loo only returning fifteen minutes later when they’d finished. For a moment Sebastian thought someone had spiked her pumpkin juice but when he sniffed her cup when she wasn’t looking, he found nothing was amiss.

His suspicion only grew every day at twelve o’clock. When the bells would chime out their merry tune her cheeks would blush and an inviting shade of crimson. It didn’t matter that she was bundled up in her heavy woollen scarf and thick tights under her skirt, a shiver would spread down her spine as if fresh snow had fallen down the back of her cloak and ice was sliding down her spine the chill electrified her nerves down to the tips of her fingers. Each time it happened she'd look rather flustered and quickly start prattling on about lunch, charms homework or any number of inconsequential things, desperately trying to hide the pink of her ears behind her hair.

Then came her disappearing act. Five to Six. Tuesdays and Thursdays. Like clockwork.

Sebastian was beginning to doubt his hypothesis, perhaps it was all just a coincidence, and he was beginning to feel rather foolish. If she didn't come, he'd have to wait until the entire orchestra had left to save himself the embarrassment. He'd be stuck, hunched over in the dusty eaves of the bell tower for another hour. He'd already been here for one not wanting to risk scaring her off or running into her outside and have to explain what he was doing so far from his usual haunts.

The orchestra were due to arrive in less than ten minutes and his back muscles were already beginning to ache from his stoop position, the low ceilings not nearly high enough to accommodate his full height. Sebastian was just about to give up and admit defeat when he heard the scuffling of a singular pair of feet on the floor above his head.

She came.

Sebastian slunk back further into the dark hiding himself from her view as she quickly clicked the small door behind her. She leased a shaky breath, carding her fingers through her hair she looked almost alight with anticipation. She walked unsteadily over to a crate folding her cloak neatly and placing it on the floor to her left. She ran her hand over her backside, smoothing out her skirt as she perched on the edge of the crate her back to him.

Sebastian could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, his pulse quickening in anticipation, devouring her greedily with his eyes like how a fox watches a chicken coop.

For a while, she just sat there silently her ankles crossed the low light cracks from the floorboards illuminated her in a streaky spotlight. A hidden star in a show ready to perform for a solitary audience.

The floorboards began to creak overhead, dust shaking loose from the rafters as the muttering crowds above their heads took their positions, strings whined as they were tuned. She looked so serene and for a moment Sebastian thought he'd been entirely wrong and perhaps she did just come here to listen merely as a patron of the arts.

Any doubt in Sebastian’s mind dissipated as soon as he heard the first pluck of a harp string. Unaware of two keen eyes watching her from the darkness she didn't suppress the violent shiver that rolled down her spine.

Much to Sebastian's delight his theory had been correct, but then again, he was rarely wrong.

As the string section purred into life that familiar shiver rattled through her but unaware of his presence she didn't hide its effect on her. A rosy stain painted her cheeks, her fingers ghosted across the heat in her face and Sebastian had to stifle the guttural groan from his own lips as he watched her follow that flush down as it as it spread lower. Her hands traced down the flush along her throat to loosen her tie and the top buttons of her blouse. The flush spreading along her clavicle, she left goosebumps in her wake.

He knew if he could see himself, Sebastian would see a similar effect staining his own skin. She was drunk on the sounds that poured in from above but he was drunk on triumph and the sight of her increasingly dishevelled appearance.

She made clean work of her buttons, and as the tempo increased from the orchestra above, she seemed emboldened with need as the wind section called out to the strings. Her shallow breathing called out to their song in an intoxicating whimper.

Her nimble fingers slid down to her ankles, and she hitched up her skirt. Lifting her hips she peeled her winter tights down her legs, exposing the soft skin of her thighs. Sebastian loosened his own tie around his neck the only thing to distract his fingers from reaching for her too soon and creating valleys in her flesh with his hands, imagining what it might feel like to sink his teeth into them.

Patience was truly a virtue, and his mouth went dry as her fingers dip tentatively between her thighs. She shuddered in time to the swelling of the brass. The noise that escaped her lips, a delicious little whine as her fingers teased her secret place was enough to break his composure. Sebastian had proved his theory right, and he felt he’d earnt a reward for his troubles.

He stepped out of the dark, on silent feet drowned out by the hum of music above he snuck up behind her. Her eyes were shut tight, too wrapped up in the song and her ministrations between her legs to be alerted to his presence towering above her. Leaning in close he could smell the fresh mallowsweet on her skin, muddled now with the heat radiating off her skin. The tempting swell of her breasts underneath her stays rose and fell with her shuddered breaths.

"You know if you wanted some help all you had to do was ask?" he purred into the shell of her ear.

Her eyes snapped open. She hurried to pull down her skirt back down her legs, but Sebastian caught her smaller hands in his. Wrapping his hand around her wrists as she stammered searching for words that wouldn’t come. Stradling the back of the crate to take the position behind her, his groin pressed against her back securing his legs astride her hips. She wriggled against his hips, jostling to get away now not only flushed with arousal but embarrassment. Sebastian couldn’t suppress the slight moan that escaped his own lips as her incessant movements brushed up against his own hardening arousal. She stilled a sound escaping her lips halfway between a horrified gasp and a needy moan. Sebastian knew she must have realised how the sight of her touching herself had affected him, feeling the stiffness twitching against the small of her back.

"Seb- I don't know what you think is going on but your wrong-" she flustered but she cut herself off with a groan as the twittering sound of flutes joined the chorus of string and brass. Her eyelashes fluttered and her thighs jerked to rub together instinctively. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on who you ask, Sebastian was quicker. He wrapped his free hand around her thigh, forcing them apart in his iron grip suppressing her ability to allow her any relief.

“Don’t be coy with me, pet. Or I’ll make you beg for it. I know I’ll find you dripping under here,” he cooed teasing the hem of her knickers. She whimpered. A godly sound perfectly tuned to his own primal needs that sent the blood rushing to his cock and it twitched approvingly against the small of her back.

He knew she'd beg for it.

"You know, if you’d asked, I would have been more than happy to help with your little problem," he smirked running his hand along the inside of her thigh.

“It’s really not what you think-” she began, the quiver in her voice betraying any confidence she tried to muster. She was still twitching in his firm hold, knees pressing inwards against his hands as she tried to seek relief and he admired the dips and valleys her motions created as they pressed against his long fingers.

“We can sit like this all night if you want,” he mused “Or if you’re a good girl and ask nicely and I will help.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to control her breathing, desperate to get her racing pulse that he could feel fluttering in her wrists under control. He rolled his hips against the small of her back and she sank back against him her teeth biting hard into her bottom lip as she suppressed another whimper.

“Seb…” she began just as the swell of the music broke the last shred of her resolve to resist him. “Please-” she bit out. He chuckled against the shell of her ear, nuzzling his nose through her mussed hair. She impatiently shifted her hips as he trailed his finger along the inside of her thigh. Her breath came out in hot little pants as she practically vibrated with anticipation at his torturously slow pursuit towards the apex of her thighs.

"You're soaking," he hissed, as his fingers traced her folds through the damp fabric of her bloomers "Dirty little witch, aren’t you? Coming up here to touch yourself in secret thinking no one would notice."

A small whine escaped her bitten lips and her hands had at last ceased resisting in their pursuit to break free from his grip around her wrists. Her head had lolled back against his shoulder her eyes tightly shut. Rewarding her submission Sebastian gently pressed his thumb against her clit through the soft material.

“Oh Gods,” she murmured as he began tracing soft circles. He pressed soft kisses in time to the beat of the drum behind her ear, her collarbone following the slope of her neck to her shoulder lulling her into softening her still stiff limbs in his hold. He wanted her boneless, pliant, but mostly he wanted her keening and begging for more. The deep and vibrant sounds of cellos elicited soft panting, she ground her hips against his fingers in search of more.

Satisfied she was to overcome to break free he released her wrists to loosen the ribbons of her stays. Wrapping his arm around to bring her flush against his body, pressed firmly into his chest now her arse creating a divine friction against his own throbbing need for her to rut shamelessly against her. Before she could register he’d released her hands he grasped her breast in his left hand. Kneading the soft flesh through her chamise her nipple pebbled. She moaned her now free hands wrapping around his neck to knot painfully in the back of his hair.

"Tsk, tsk. If you want more you have to ask nicely,"

"Sebastian-"

"That’s it, good girl. If you want to come, you have to say my name,” he growled his voice a deep baritone “Now tell me is this how you touch yourself when you're up here by yourself?”

"No. More-" she whined. Gone was the earlier apprehension replaced with a primal need for music and Sebastian to fill her.

"More what,” he hummed, increasing the speed of his teasing against her clit in time with the allegro.

"Touch me…”

"But I am touching you?" He chuckled fastening his mouth against her fluttering pulse to mark her skin like a composer signing his greatest work. "I wonder do you put your fingers in that pretty little cunt of yours? Hmm?"

She buried her face in his neck, the rosy stain across her cheeks deepening her gasping breaths tickling the sensitive skin below his ear. He felt her nod her head reluctantly that white-hot desire the music instilled in her body winning out over any shame she felt for her dearest friend to be the one eliciting such confessions.

"Your fingers are much too small,” he mused, releasing her breast to stretch his free hand over hers. He ran his nails across her knuckles dwarfing her smaller digits “If you say please I'll let mine stretch you out."

"Please Seb-" She practically sobbed only muffled by the deep hum of the cellos above sending her further into a frenzy. She squirmed against him desperately in search of more pressure practically aching for release. His hot breath chuckle disturbing the hair now wild framing her face.

How long had he yearned to see her like this? No longer his cocky friend but needy and desperate. She groaned slightly at the loss of his fingers on her clit but Sebastian swiftly dipped his fingers below the waistband of her bloomers and past the sparse hairs between her thighs to tease her soaking folds.

"You're soaking. Are you always this wet or is some of this for me?" If it was possible, her cheeks went an even darker shade of crimson. Before she could bury her head away in embarrassment, he caught her chin in this hand no longer clutching her breast her eyes snapped open to meet his and he grinned wide at her victoriously before plunging one finger inside her. She released a strangled cry at the intrusion into her warmth so much larger than her own slender digits. He began to slowly pump his finger in and out of her.

"You'll spoil the song if you're too loud pet. Do you think you can keep quiet? We wouldn't want anyone else to find out your little secret now, would we?"

She nodded, biting down hard on her bottom lip to stifle her needy moans. Incredibly aware of his own aching need pressed firmly into the small of her back twitching as her body wriggled against him, he released a grunt of his own against her hair. Her hips rutted forward desperately against his finger, craving more relief only he could give her.

"So needy,” he chided, sliding his middle finger to join his index in her tight heat. Her slick walls fluttered against his fingers unfamiliar to the intrusion as they stretched to accommodate him. Her keening mewls became throaty groans. He relished in the knowledge that only a few feet above their heads students played on unaware of the fact he was turning their ‘Hero of Hogwarts’ into a boneless mess beneath their feet.

"Admit you wanted me to find you up here?” he purred against her ear.

“No- but…” she trailed off. Not wanting to lose this opportunity to draw confessions from her lips in regular circumstances she would keep bottled up. But with his hand between her legs, and the ebb and flow of music fogging her mind it wasn’t just her body that was pliant under him but her tongue.

“If you tell me, I’ll make you feel so good,” he promised curling his fingers inside of her to tease that sweet spot inside of her that would make her legs tremble. Her tight little body clenched around his fingers before relaxing further into his touch, receiving him deeper.

“I think about you,” her breathless confession plucked out of her like a string of a violin.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

“Ah- yes,” she panted. Her eyes at last opened to look at him fully, her pupils blown so wide he could barely distinguish the colour of her irises as she stared lustily at his freckled face.

“Naughty girl, keeping secrets,” he hummed. Despite his mocking scolding, he rewarded her confession by adding his thumb to press circles over her clit. She bit down hard on her lip trying to maintain her composure despite how every pump of his fingers and swirl of his thumb was reducing her to a moaning mess. Her arm gave her stability still wrapped around his neck as her spine rounded, as she at last released her bruised lip from between her teeth a rasping moan escaping her lips. He knew they were running out of time and his own need would have to wait but that didn’t stop his hips rocking against the small of her back, desperately seeking out friction on his cock. Her fingernails dug in harshly into his neck creating half-moons in his flesh as she desperately clung to him craving the rutting of his hips against her.

The music swelled around them to an almost deafening degree and her cunt began to flutter and clench.- Her slick coating his fingers allowing him to push his fingers in deeper, increasing his tempo she rutted shamelessly down onto his fingers, in time with his own motions to keep pressure on her sweet spot. She was rising to her own crescendo and with one final crook of his fingers inside of her, she climaxed. Her scream of ecstasy created a mesmerising symphony solely for him drowned out by the ear-splitting crescendo above their heads. Her orgasm racked through her as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her prolonging her bliss. The music coursed through her and his fingers stretched her cunt in perfect harmony. Sebastian didn’t think the finest musicians in the world could create a sweeter sound than she released when her earth shattered.

She slumped bonelessly against his chest breathing heavily as he removed his fingers from her tight heat, keeping his thumb pressed against her clit to slowly coax her down from her high. She chuckled at the satiated hum she released that sent vibrations through his body.

“Next time you think about keeping a secret. Remember we make the sweetest music together.”

#hl kink fest #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x f!mc #Sebastian sallow x female reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #kinkmas HL

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