#Keep in mind this is still a big ''Maybe''

[scrumdidiliyumyum]

Something special |||

Yan!Batfam x Neglected!Reader

Prologue - > Part 1 - > Part 2 - > Part 3

How could he have known that you were with your friends?

You sat there for a while, in the cold car with the sudden realization that that man you had quite literally just met knew something he shouldn't have. Were you overthinking it? Were you just to tired to really comprehend the actual situation, your mind instantly going to something more darker and blaming an innocent man?

Maybe you were paranoid, just maybe. He was a vigilante for goodness sakes. He helps people, saves them. He most likely just assumed that you were out and about, hanging out with buds. There wasn't any need to jump to such big conclusions- to make an innocent man the target of your paranoia.

As you sat there, you tried your best to control your breathing, feeling it go out of control every time the thought of him knowing more than he should've creeped back into your mind. Maybe you really were just going crazy for all you knew.

Your hand shakily reached up to the ignition with the key to start the far, you couldn't think about this right now. Not in the middle of who knows where, alone, in a car. You tried, keyword tried, to push it away, to shoo away the bad thoughts until you were in a safer environment to be allowed to do so.

You drove back to the manor, trying to keep your mind in a happy place. Thinking of things to distract yourself, not noticing the skillfully hidden figure watching your vehicle make its way onto the street.

You slowly made your way towards the manor doors, not wanting to go in. God, why didn't you ask to stay over at a friend's house? If anytime was good, now would be, when your head was working against you and you could've used a friend to help you with it all.

Ah.

Your mind went back to a few certain people as you thought that. As much as you would've loved to, staying at a friend's house when some people were, "keeping an eye out on you," Suddenly disappearing probably wouldn't be the smartest move on your part.

You let out a sigh as you slowly opened the doors, looking around for a minute before making the hike up the stairs and back to your room. You kept looking around, at all the little places you memorized from walking through these halls for years. Something you were hoping would change very soon.

You jumped out of your trance as you felt a hand tap on your shoulder, whipping around and coming face to face with Duke who still had a worried look on his face. You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it as he beat you to it.

"Are you alright? I was worried when you disappeared all of a sudden." You held back to urge to roll your eyes, "yeah I'm fine don't worry. Really, there's no reason to be worried." You stood there awkwardly for a second before slowly turning to make your way back to your room.

Duke suddenly put that to a halt as he said, "hey, you shouldn't stress yourself out so much. I know you wanna work hard, but maybe try to relax, yeah?" You looked back at him, trying to think of what to say.

You would've been mad if it was anyone else, should've been mad nonetheless, but you never really knew Duke. He was always nice, and you both were older, teens when you both had first met. Despite everything, he still treated you the kindest.

So you sighed, before fully turning to face him. You softly smiled at him before saying, "thanks Duke, I'll keep that in mind." You patted his arm before walking back to your room trying to ignore the face he made, just wanting to sleep and prepare yourself for whatever tomorrow intailed.

Man you wished that you were old enough to drink.

You adjusted your uniform, tidying up as best as you could. You were a tad bit nervous, more than usual as today was the day you decided to quit a club. You had to step out of your comfort zone, and maybe it wasn't a big deal to some, but for you it was a really big deal.

All the times you had walked through those halls, hoping for something more from the very people that lived there, it hurt more than everything. And it still didnt hurt any less, but you were gonna make it okay, because you did have people to rely on, people who would be there, who would gladly hang up your photos and take time out of their day to be with you.

You wanted more then everything to start doing stuff you liked, be with people you liked, so that's exactly what you were going to do.

You gathered up the rest of your stray items and set them into your bag. Nervous yes, but overall thrilled to be doing this, patting your self before making your way towards your door to get to school.

You looked at a picture from one of the many photo booths you had run into the night before, hung up on your wall of you, Aryan and Ethan, all smiling, happy and making weird faces.

For the first time in awhile going to school didn't seem to hard.

"I'm sorry, I'm what?"

Your debate teachers face scrunched up slightly as he started to explain, "well, you're out, that's it." He paused before continuing, "technically, isn't that what you wanted? So I don't see the problem." You felt nothing but absolute confusion as he said that, slowly processing his words.

You did amazing, was, were, one of the best debaters, you were always helpful, willing to offer a helping hand to those that needed one, inside and outside the class. So what was the problem? Why were you suddenly cut off the team?

Him sighing and gesturing for you to lean in brought back your attention, "look, kid, to be honest, your amazing. But, this other kid, don't really know his name, started with a D? I don't know, but he waltzed in here, saying how he wanted you off the team, and started going on about you and stuff, something like that."

He scratched his head, "usually, I would just shoo people like that off, but he had a signed paper and everything!" He waved his arms around to emphasize the paper, "look, I'm sorry kid, I figured you knew about it since... well, y'know."

You could feel a huge headache coming on, desperately needing a pill. You paused your thoughts as you took what he said to mind. You stumbled on your words, "I- I'm sorry, Damien?" He nodded his head, getting a grim look on his face, "don't get me wrong, I've dealt with some freaky kids, but that one was definitely pretty freakish."

You were about to make your way into another rant, when you decided to leave it as it is. As much as you wanted to fight him on it, you know it wasn't his fault. You took a breath and forced yourself to calm down and smiled at him politely before taking your stuff and storming off, making turns through the halls towards your car.

You were going to talk to him, yell, whatever. Yes, you were going to quit the club, or a club, but just because didn't mean he had the right to butt in. It was your choice to make, one that seemed to be a good one, one that make you excited until you got there only to find out Damien had gotten you kicked out in the first place.

You and Damien never had a close relationship, always having some sort of rift between the two of you no matter what you did to try and repair it. And for once, for once, you decided you were gonna move on, live your own life, and he decides he doesn't want that?

No.

You weren't gonna just let him decide this. This was for you to decide, and you weren't gonna let him make something that should've been a new chapter into something else as he had done one too many times. You really didn't want that to happen right now, especially when this particular thing was supposed to be a turning point for you.

Maybe you were being dramatic, but in all honesty you couldn't care less. Sure, maybe at the base of it all, what you were really mad at was not just this, but all the other times he was ruined things for you, turning stuff that made you happy into stuff that made you cry and sick everytime it entered your sight, the fact that you were always to weak to put a stop to it.

You just hoped that you would be strong enough to tell him this time.

You slowly made your way towards Damien, having searched for him for a good while. You were filled with anger earlier, but it slowly faded away and out of your body once you noticed Dick standing by him.

You didn't know how to confront him with Dick by your side, at most he wouldn't care, right? You hoped with every fiber in your body that they would push whatever you decided on saying to the deep depths of their minds. As you neared them, the moment they took notice of you, you almost had to double back and go throw up from how nervous you were.

But, you held your ground and continued walking until you were infront of them, trying to hide how harshly you were breathing and the mini panic attack you were having on the inside. "Damien, can I talk to you, somewhere private?" You said with as much confidence you could muster. He stared for a moment before responding, "why? We can talk right here."

The small bite in his tone reminded you exactly why you were in this situation in the first place. Taking a deep breath, "fine. Damien, why did you get me kicked out of my club? It's my club, and you shouldn't have to go behind my back to talk to my teacher." You waited, trying your best to ignore Dick just staring at you.

He rubbed his eyes, sighing, before giving you a fierce look, "look, whether you like it or not, you're my sister. What you do directly effects me and father. And I'd rather not have to deal with you passing out in public, with everyone as a witness."

You scoffed at what he said, " your sister? Well whether you like it or not, it's not for you to decide! What I decide to do with my life outside- actually, inside this manor as well, had absolutely nothing to do with you, or anyone else that lives here."

You breathed harshly out of your nose, trying to keep a cool head but failing miserably. You took in a deep breath before starting another rant, " and y'know what Damien? I passed out once why does everyone think I'm suddenly this super fragile person?" -You barely noticed the way he winced from the pure venom of which you spat his name- "I honestly hate-"

Suddenly Dick covered your mouth, pausing after doing so as if not even meaning to. His eyes jolted around for a bit before settling on whispering, "please don't say stuff like that, okay?" You stared at him, pushing his hand off your mouth. "Say what? That I hate your guts? Is that what the problem is?"

He almost looked surprised at the hatred in your voice, before letting out a sigh, "look, I'm sorry okay? You're probably tired, and just need to go lay down-"

You laughed incredulously, absolutely shocked at his words. Had he even been listening? You decided that you had had enough of his- no, enough of their bullshit. It wasn't your job to cater to their every whim.

You decided then and there to just leave. You rubbed hard at your face, as if to try and rid of the tension and unadulterated anger coursing through your body. Was this whole family crazy? You honestly couldn't care less, you were tired, hungry, and just wanted to be somewhere safe.

You suddenly looked at the two annoyed, "I'm gonna stay at a friend's house tonight. Bye!" Quickly turning around, you started to make your way back down where you had come from. You pushed anything they had said out of your head as you tried to mentally retrace your footsteps back.

Because you had already spaced out, you hadn't noticed Dick speading towards you, completely blocking your path. You jumped at him suddenly invading your view, giving him a questioning look. He looked back at Damien a few times before muttering a quick, 'I'm sorry' and snatching your phone out of your hand.

You looked at him incredulously, at this point really wondering if it was all a dream. Dick stood there, trying to convince you to go to your room. "Look, I'm sorry, can you please go back for now? I promise I'll give it back later I just-" He paused as he looked back at Damien, the both of them having a silent conversation.

Suddenly Damien sighed and spoke up, "go away, I need to talk to Dick." You could feel his stare bore into the back of your head. You scoffed and just left, figuring it wasn't worth the fight. Although you wanted to try and grab it, you tried to soothe yourself with the fact that you still had your computer to contact someone- anyone.

Running Walking away, you could faintly hear Damien start to talk to Dick, 'I thought we told you already-' but you quickly pushed it out of your head. All you could think of at the moment was how pissed you were with those two, what was their problem??

Frankly, any other day you wouldn't have left. It was your phone, and they couldn't just suddenly decide to team up and take it away. But, you didn't care anymore, you were done with having nothing to deal with, then now having to deal with everything.

You tried to soothe yourself with the fact that this time tomorrow you would be out of here.

You walked into your room and slammed the door, sliding down against it trying your best to calm down. For all you knew they could've broken it. You mentally beat yourself up for not just snatching the phone back. The thought of that made you remember something as you sprung up, making your way towards your desk.

Pulling multiple draws open before your eyes finally landed on what you were looking for, you quickly grabbed it out, pushing along the few trinkets that resided on top.

Your laptop.

You needed to message someone, maybe Aryan? Would she even answer? Or maybe Ethan, he might-

.

You paused before quickly turning back towards the desk, once again looking through the drawer that held your laptop. You looked through it multiple times, taking everything out before moving towards other drawers.

After moving everything out, looking once again through the mountain of items that sat om your floor, even going as far as any other desks, drawers, hell, your backpack. Yet no matter where you looked, you couldn't find it. Did someone steal it? Did Aryan- or no, even Miss Honey take it?

Where the hell was your camera?

The dim room was faintly lit up by the big computer screen, shining onto nearby objects and the young man who sat at the desk it resided on. He watched the video, taking in every detail of it. The small giggles that got let out every now and then, the way you threw flour at the other girl in the video, laughing and smiling brightly.

Tim looked over the video, and the many others that were on the sim card over and over again. It was so weird- he never really cared about you, still didn't really. Then what was that aching tug in his heart? but nonetheless, seeing you there, no longer the small kid that he could always sense trailing somewhere behind him, it was weird.

He remembers the first time he met you, you coming up to him with a smile, bandages on your knee, hair wild. It was amusing seeing someone so full of life and color in such a desolate and dark manor. With how sleep deprived he was, he genuinely thought for a second that he went to the wrong manor.

But you weren't little, you weren't the same joy filled kid that he ran into so few times. You were older, and because he didn't know you it was easier to just place you as a faceless nobody.

Well, until you were brought to his attention.

It was like a parasite, the way he slowly heard more and more people talking about you, worrying about you. It honestly didn't make sense. You really weren't special, you had a few quirks here and there, but that was about it. What was so different?

After he ransacked your room, looking through drawers and settling on stealing a camera, he connected it to his computer and looked through the contents. There was a mountain of pictures, ranging from sunsets, to photos with friends, to even the beautiful shimmering ocean.(when did you visit the ocean?)

As much as he hated to admit it, he understood where the rest were coming from. The fact that you hadn't ever touched the dark vigilante life- never having the get your hands dirty from another person's blood, it made you so much different than them.

You were human, something to be treasured, to be kept safe and sound. He couldn't help but think of how different you seemed as of late. In the few times he saw you, he saw a quiet wallflower. But now? Seeing you so of life almost made him... admire you in a way.

The humanity you had, having the ability to be happy and share your love with those around you so freely. He could tell from each picture and video he looked at, the way you talked, looked, it made it so clear that you were someone overflowing with love.

And he longed for you to share it with him as well.

Hey guys...long time no see....

(*´Д`)

I wanted to drop this chapter for christmasss!!! Sorry it isn't Christmas themed though (-。-;) Can you guys tell how readers slowly starting to get more pissed off?? I'm VERY excited to not write a breakdown wink wink Anywaysss I've said this a million times but MERRY CHRISTMAS Or HAPPY HOLIDAYS if you dont celebrate SENDING HUGS AND KISSES TAGLIST : @wizzerreblogs, @darktrashpoetry, @daddyissuesehe, @chericia, @iluvcatzz, @fightmebissh, @fionnalopez-blog, @otterluver05, @kitkatkitmeow, @caged-birdies-blog, @ocean-mochi, @tatsuri-zomushiki, @nickey-diano, @nickey-diano, @cloudserenity, @seleneprince, @degenerates-posts, @definitely-not-sammie, @pix-stuff, @nervousalpacalady, @mys0cksrwet, @kore-of-the-underworld, @lilyalone, @alliwantisadonut, @shadowytravlerlover, @dreamsarenicer, @dhanyasri, @blackbirdsblackberries Thank you for the support 💓 I'm going to bed now (´Д` )

[crwbannwen]

I was writing this in the tags but I have too much to say.

So this absolutely. Don’t unwelsh my Mari Lwyd please and thank you

BUT I’d like to add some more:

As someone completely guilty of using the phrase ‘Welsh rap battle’ over pwnco. It’s because it’s one, a joke phrase I used to use even before it became more widely recognised, and two a more understandable concept I can explain to people without boring them with rhyme and meter.

I love my rhyme and meters, so trust me I knew how the pwnco worked when I use this phrase. I like saying ‘Welsh Rap Battle’ because I think it’s funny and emphasises how cool and charming I find my own cultural tradition to an English speaking person who wouldn’t know the tradition. It’s good to alter your language for people’s ease of understanding, it’s unfortunate that the joke caught on to people who don’t understand the pwnco. (And there is a limit to changing your language: it eventually does become altering something important too much for someone’s benefit).

I will also note here, while I use the phrase ‘Welsh rap battle’ to reinforce that I like the tradition, I also know people who were ashamed of the culture and tradition and used that phrase to make fun of the dead singing horse (same issue with Scots being called a dialect: cultural shame is a big issue in Wales even if we don’t think it is). Now the tradition is being reclaimed I doubt those people still see it as something to be ashamed of. But it’s something to keep in mind when using that phrase. Intentions do vary.

But my main point I wanted to adress:

Dysgais i Cymraeg fel iaith yn ail felly dw i ddim yn siarad cymraeg yn digon rhugl i fyrfyfyrio pwnco. Dw i’n gallu creu cerdd gydag amser ond beth am y bobl (cymreig) sydd ddim yn gallu siarad cymraeg o gwbl?

So while we don’t want to remove the Welsh from our tradition, we definitely don’t want to make the tradition inaccessible to our own people.

Learning a language is difficult. The education system sucks. Welsh second language a level is torture (I’d know, I did it. Average AS result in my class was a U, it was that awful). And not everyone has the means or the opportunity to learn Welsh so we should take care never to ostracise our own people. It’s more than unfortunate that we don’t all have a good grasp on the language. So having a set Cân-y-Fari that non-speakers or dysgwyr can learn and recite helps to both immerse them in Welsh and includes them in their own culture. Same with having art or an aesthetic. Maybe you can’t speak Welsh: but you can draw. That gives you a way to celebrate your culture still and I think that’s awesome. Even in English I couldn’t improvise a poem with a strict meter. The actual tradition of the Mari Lwyd is a seemingly unattainable level of fluency to most dysgwyr.

Obviously this still needs to coexist with the original Welsh tradition (not necessarily art though, if it’s a drawing of a Mari Lwyd then it’s a drawing of a Mari Lwyd. In my opinion art doesn’t need words unless the artist wants to add words). Traditions do change and that isn’t always a bad thing. In this case it’s not something we want to do, but it’s something we need to consider doing in order to help the non-Welsh speakers and dysgwyr be included in their culture.

There is an even larger issue here to be addressed with how we treat our own people as not ‘Welsh’ enough. Especially people who have mixed heritage. There’s a big racism issue that I could unpack here as well where non-white welsh students are made not to feel Welsh enough to deserve to be involved in welsh culture. Which should not happen. Similarly with half English Welshies. We need to stop treating ourselves like we aren’t Welsh enough; it only hurts us to be denied by our own people.

And as for Krampus comparisons, I bonded with a German friend over our different but similarly unique cultural Christmas traditions so I think that’s good too. I guess it’s the simplification of it that’s the problem

So I hate how the Mari Lwyd has been ‘de-welshed’. But personally, the ability for all of Welsh people to have access to it also needs to be considered in this discourse.

Still if the tradition completely shifted to English I would be so livid.

Edit: forgot to say, while I know the Mari Lwyd isn’t a cryptid, it is a cultural creature and I see no issue with people using that aspect of the tradition as a way to connect to it. The tradition isn’t only changing, it’s expanding. We just have to make sure it doesn’t drown out the original tradition

The thing with the Mari Lwyd, though, is that it's being... I don't know, 'appropriated' is the wrong word, but certainly turned into something it isn't.

Thing is, this is a folk tradition in the Welsh language, and that's the most important aspect of it. I feel partly responsible for this, because I accidentally became a bit of an expert on the topic of the Mari Lwyd in a post that escaped Tumblr containment, and I clearly didn't stress it strongly enough there (in my defence, I wrote that post for ten likes and some attention); but this is a Welsh language tradition, conducted in Welsh, using Welsh language poetic forms that are older than the entire English language, and also a very specific sung melody (with a very specific first verse; that's Cân y Fari). It is not actually a 'rap battle'. It's not a recited poem. It is not any old rhyme scheme however you want.

It is not in English.

Given the extensive and frankly ongoing attempts by England to wipe out Welsh, and its attendant cultural traditions, the Mari is being revived across Wales as an act of linguistic-cultural defiance. She's a symbol of Welsh language culture, specifically; an icon to remind that we are a distinct people, with our own culture and traditions, and in spite of everyone and everything, we're still here. Separating her from that by removing the Welsh is, to put it mildly, wildly disrespectful.

...but it IS what I'm increasingly seeing, both online and in real world Mari Lwyd festivals. She's gained enormous pop-culture popularity in recent years, which is fantastic; but she's also been reduced from the tradition to just an aesthetic now.

So many people are talking/drawing about her as though she's a cryptid or a mythological figure, rather than the folk practice of shoving a skull on a stick and pretending to be a naughty horse for cheese and drunken larks. And I get it! It's an intriguing visual! Some of the artwork is great! But this is not what she is. She's not a Krampus equivalent for your Dark Christmas aesthetic.

I see people writing their own version of the pwnco (though never called the pwnco; almost always called some variant on 'Mari Lwyd rap battle'), and as fun as these are, they are never even written in the meter and poetic rules of Cân y Fari, much less in Welsh, and they never conclude with the promise to behave before letting the Mari into the house. The pwnco is the central part to the tradition; this is the Welsh language part, the bit that's important and matters.

Mari Lwyd festivals are increasingly just English wassail festivals with a Mari or two present. The Swansea one last weekend didn't even include a Mari trying to break into a building (insert Shrek meme); there was no pwnco at all. Even in the Chepstow ones, they didn't do actual Cân y Fari; just a couple of recited verses. Instead, the Maris are just an aesthetic, a way to make it look a bit more Welsh, without having to commit to the unfashionable inconvenience of actually including Welsh.

And I don't really know what the answers are to these. I can tell you what I'd like - I'd like art to include the Welsh somewhere, maybe incorporating the first line of Cân y Fari like this one did, to keep it connected to the actual Welsh tradition (or other Welsh, if other phrases are preferred). I'd like people who want to write their version of the pwnco to respect the actual tradition of it by using Cân y Fari's meter and rhyme scheme, finishing with the promise to behave, and actually calling it the pwnco rather than a rap battle (and preferably in Welsh, though I do understand that's not always possible lol). I'd like to see the festivals actually observe the tradition, and include a link on the booking website to an audio clip of Cân y Fari and the words to the first verse, so attendees who want to can learn it ahead of time. I don't know how feasible any of that is, of course! But that's what I'd like to see.

I don't know. This is rambly. But it's something I've been thinking about - and increasingly nettled by - for a while. There's was something so affirming and wonderful at first about seeing the Mari's climb into international recognition, but it's very much turned to dismay by now, because she's important to my endangered culture and yet that's the part that everyone apparently wants to drop for being too awkward and ruining the aesthetic. It's very frustrating.

[fushiguruuzzzz]

ALL I WANT 4 CHRISTMAS .ᐟ

What are the jjk & aot boys doing this Christmas season?

Somehow, mistletoe is left in his wake like a trail of breadcrumbs. Nobody knows exactly how he acquired all of this, but as he continues to swerve the advances of anyone else he meets under the green and red decoration, his intent grows more clear. There's also a mysterious bundle of it in his pocket, which he explains as his "just in case" backup. Before you knew it he was taking you by the hand and leading you through the house, much less subtle at scanning the doorways above than he thinks. At first you're oblivious, wondering if someone had spiked his eggnog or something of the sort, but no. When he halts abruptly and you follow his gaze upwards, every oddity of his behaviour makes much more sense.

"Would you look at that? Mistletoe. Wonder how that got there."

You can still feel his proud grin against your lips, even after he kisses you.

⤷ Satoru, Jean

He’s lounging on the sidelines, eyeing you over the rim of his mug as you enjoy the winter day, unaware of his lingering eyes. The hot chocolate sears his tongue, but he can't find it in himself to react. How could he care, when you're laughing across the room? What was so funny? What was so special about those people that prevented you from talking to him? He's got plenty of other people gabbing in his ear, they always end up flocking to him, as odd as it seems. He only feigns interest in their words, but if it were you, he'd hold on to every syllable like they were life's greatest treasure. he'd take note of every shift, of every breath you took. But for now you were across the room and all he could do was stare, frozen in place.

⤷ Suguru, Eren, Toji

Ah, yes. The personification of Christmas, your very own worker elf at your side. Clad in a ridiculously festive sweater and some reindeer antlers, Santa Claus might as well have thrown up on him. You're sure that if it weren't for you, he'd be wrapped in Christmas lights and singing carols on doorsteps. "It's holiday spirit! Don't you like Christmas?" he'd say. He makes you out to be some sort of grump, but you know deep down that he's just a total dork.

⤷ Toge, Yuji, Connie

Your boy isn't one for grand gestures, he never has been. Even around the holiday season, his love is quiet; soft. His chunky sweater wrapped around your shoulders, a steaming mug in your hands because he noticed you were chilly. A batch of sugar cookies made just for you, icing of your favourite colour decorating the tops. A pretty little box with a ribbon tied into a bow (or at least it was supposed to be) atop it, even though you made him promise not to go out of his way more than he already has. He just can't help himself. A photo snapped of you when you're looking particularly docile, just for safe keeping. He looks at his little album of you when you're apart, but he doesn't tell you that part. His affection is a collection of small sweetness, like a box of trinkets filled with the little things you hold dearest to your heart.

⤷ Yuta, Armin

He’s doing all of the sappiest things without even realizing it. Who would expect this big, beefy oaf of a man to be so whipped? “Yeah, those decorations are really pretty. I’d rather look at you, though.” “Sorry for staring, baby. You just look so pretty. If you were the only present under the tree I wouldn’t mind.” He’s buying you reindeer plushies just because they’re cute, and when he gives them to you his eyes shine with something so sweet it’s hard to believe it’s him. So you take them, you accept all of it, every little thing teetering on the fence of cute and corny, because maybe that’s what love does to you.

⤷ Reiner, Choso

You know how I said Toge, Connie, and Yuji are the personification of Christmas? Yeah, he’s the grinch. No, he doesn’t need another candy cane. No, please don’t turn up the radio, if he hears another Mariah Carey song he might implode. It would be easier to hide his disdain if you weren’t so adamant, so pushy for him to “get in the spirits.” Get that damn hat away from him, he tells you he won’t allow himself to be subjected to your childish antics. But when the festive shine in your eyes dulls ever so slightly, when you retreat with a defeated huff, he doesn’t know what changes. He doesn’t understand why, but he knows he doesn’t like it. So he tugs you back with an annoyed huff, grumbling under his breath as he falls victim to your will. He always ends up doing that, somehow. Always ends up at your mercy, even though if it were anyone else he’d have blocked them out long ago.

⤷ Megumi, Levi, Sukuna

He seems like something straight out of a hallmark movie. Okay, maybe he isn’t as cheerful as your picture perfect husband, waltzing around like Buddy the Elf. Maybe he’s got that passive expression on his face, the one that’s just barely grown easier to read over the years you’ve grown to know him. But he’s cooking you meals and massaging your back, he’s sliding you his card over the kitchen counter before he leaves for work and telling you to do something nice for yourself. He doesn’t care, as long as he gets to see the results; see how happy they make you. He trusts you, he trusts that you’re just as his as he is yours, and that means all of his work benefits him just as much as you. Because he gets to see your face light up, see the subtle curl of your lips with every act of service, and knowing he’s the only one is well enough for him.

⤷ Kento, Erwin

a/n — I wrote this randomly at 4am because one of my mutuals asked if I was doing a Christmas special. Yes apparently I am. Also Gojo fit a few of these but I decided on that one :3 I was thinking about doing more fandoms but I’m not 100% confident in my characterizations for hq, hxh (been a HOT minute since I’ve watched), etc. so aot and jjk it is <3 most people are only here for jjk anyway so

[unriding]

MOZE X F!READER! comfort. sfw. reader is overstimulated & wants to go home T T not proofread! ++ possible anxiety cw for caution.

A deep, shaky breath through your nose usually relieves it, even if only a bit. And perhaps, if luck allows for it — then you could sneak another glance at the clock too, practiced enough to never risk the chance of anyone noticing. Then, a smile afterwards. A big one, always, along with a “Hm? What was that?”

It’s a learned skill that has taken you far too long to master. If you look people straight in the eye, maybe the way their eyes light up as they speak makes you momentarily forget about the dreadful churn of your stomach. And, if you greet yet another guest with a tight hug, the brief second of silence gives you one more chance to get it together and collect yourself.

By now, you’ve learned that the inhale always hurts slightly more than the exhale. It’s shaky — and heavy, as if your lungs weren’t made to be filled with this kind of suffocating air and simply wish for a break from the pressure of keeping you from shattering like glass.

Today, breathing in hurts more than you remember. And today, it’s not helping either. Not one bit.

Instead, each forced breath only feels like a million little thorns pushing deeper into your chest, forcing hot tears to blur your vision further as everything around you seems to blend together. It gets louder too.

It’s too much.

Too much.

All of it is too much. The lights are too bright. These colors are too vibrant, and it hurts. The heartbeat thumping in your skull hurts too. Laughter that echoes throughout the room only sounds taunting now — makes your chest squeeze and your heart pound ten times faster.

Everyone talks over each other. One interruption after another, then another louder than the previous— and they’re talking too fast for you to keep up.

It’s not somewhere you think you’re suited to be in the first place. Not when you don’t have the courage to suddenly force your way back into the conversation (you’re unsure what they’re talking about after being so deep into your thoughts anyway), let alone raise your voice enough to be heard or even force out any kind of sound at all — so you smile instead.

Nod, and smile too.

Even then, your heart beats faster. Much too fast for you to ignore, this time — your world spinning and the cup you’re clutching onto seems to be blurring too. Disappearing through your own fingers, until all the colors blend together into a blinding white. For only a moment, your smile falters — eyes flashing with something resembling panic.

A small crack in your composure, and then the entire thing crumbles like ruined pottery.

One sniffle slips. A crack straight down the middle.

Your chest closes in on itself, and then your fists follow — shakily clinging onto the cup you think should still be there until your knuckles turn white. In… then out…. you desperately remind yourself in your head over and over, repeat the phrase in your head faster and faster to fight the tears so rudely threatening to spill. In… then out… in… then—

“There you are.”

Everything falls silent at once. The talking, the mean taunting of your mind, the deafening tick-tock of the clock, your heartbeat — everything. Everything aside from your own breathing, at least. Loud and labored, but still there nevertheless. You blink a couple times, slowly, taking in the calming color of purple that fills your vision.

“How rude,” you hear someone say (though slightly muffled, and slow… as if from far away), “you shouldn’t toss your hood over her head like that, Moze. How’s she gonna breathe?”

“Hmph. This one here forgot a jacket. It’s my job to keep her warm.”

“Like that?!”

Your chest starts to loosen its grip on your heart, finally allowing you to move, at least enough to lightly drag your fingers over the familiar fabric before you take in a soft inhale, and this time — the smell of comfort and home fills your lungs instead.

“She’s cold,” he says, blunt as ever.

There’s more sentences exchanged after that. Not ones that you can hear. Not ones that you care to hear, anyway. Not when such agonizing noises in your head start to die off one by one, wide eyes finally able to relax enough to flutter shut for a brief moment to properly cherish this silence.

“So,” you hear his voice soften ever so slightly, the way it always does whenever he talks to you. “I’ll be taking her home now.”

[revelboo]

Oh damn!! Mind if I just explode into particles about the latest Circuits and Wires??

BOOM!! 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💕💕💕💕💕

I love it so much

Wheeljack’s always been a favorite, just that optimism that’s undiminished no matter how many times his projects literally blow up in his face.

Also: Let’s see how many of these I can update in a day

Circuits and Wires Pt 10

Wheeljack x Reader

• Shifting to sit curled up in his lap, you’re aware of him shifting his arm as if wanting to touch and not sure where is okay. Biting into the inside of your cheek as he struggles, you reach back and pull his arm around you, pressing his big hand against your hip and feeling him shiver under you. Because one of you is going to have to be assertive and you’re almost positive it’s not going to be him. Reaching for his other hand, you pull it to you and play with his servos, fingertips tracing over the softer metal mesh at the inside of his wrist as you lay your head against him.

• You’re so soft and warm against him, he wants to tip your head up. Explore your soft mouth and let his hands wander. Would you let him? Optics dim, he doesn’t dare try to find out. Too afraid of being rejected or ruining this. Glossa sliding against his bottom lip remembering the feel of your mouth on his, he flexes his servos when you run your fingertips against the inside of them. And you look up at him, head against his shoulder. Slowly, he presses his palm to yours, intertwining his servos with your fingers, the difference in how much smaller your little hands is, shocking. Even mass displaced, you’re so delicate compared to him. And a part of him thrills at that difference.

• Breath catching as you stare at your hand trapped in his much bigger one and feel the servos of the hand on your hip flex against you. Making you wonder what those big hands would feel like on you. “I keep thinking I’m going to break you,” he says, vocal indicators flickering mauve. Embarrassed? About breaking you? Why would he even-oh. Heat spilling through you, his awkwardness twists, takes on a new meaning. Not even sure how that would work between you two. Though, those big fingers could be put to use. And now the thought is there as your face heats.

• Head ducking against him as he catches a glimpse of how red your face just got, he frowns. “I promise you won’t break me,” you mutter, avoiding looking at him as your fingers squeeze his. Venting, he absently rubs against your hip and rests his chin on top of your head. Loving the feel of you against him and not quite believing that he’s allowed this much.

• “I hope not. I like having you around,” he says as you cringe. Because nope. It’s going right over his handsome, dense head unless you spell it out for him. Maybe he’d hadn’t meant it that way after all. And asking about it? Bluntly telling him that you’re interested in him that way? You’d rather curl up and die of embarrassment right now. So you’re right back to square one, you too shy and him too damn oblivious.

Previous

I am all motors and gadgets

Organically designed to last a finite length of time

Locked in this rotary motion, the wheel spins round and round

I comprehend it all but still can't make a sound

I know there's something wrong within my faulty brain

I lack the proper behavior

My temper-addled tongue can't seem to force it out

The words that linger inside me

Can't speak, can't speak, can't speak at all

Don't even think you know the reason

Can't speak, can't speak, can't speak at all

Don't even try to understand

I am all circuits and wires

Conducting symphonies of heat exchange energies

My temper-addled tongue can't seem to force it out

The words that linger inside me

[cece693]

Let Me Draw You (Ken x Male Reader)

Just saw the Barbie movie and tell me why I felt so bad for Ken. Like all he wanted was to feel appreciated and seen by Barbie :( So, I plan to change the movie slightly to include Ken finding happiness for himself.

Summary: While Barbie was off exploring the real world, Ken was left to his own devices. Roaming the streets, he stumbles upon a coffee shop where you decide he is your next muse.

tags: Barbie movie, reader is a man from the real world, Ken is a confused puppy, he finds someone who thinks he's enough

Ken wandered through the streets of the real world, his wide eyes brimming with curiosity. Everything around him seemed larger, louder, and busier than anything in Barbie Land. People hustled past him, some throwing strange glances his way, probably because he was still dressed head to toe in his *new* favorite cowboy outfit. But Ken didn’t mind.

As he continued walking, his blue eyes caught sight of something—or rather, someone—staring directly at him from inside a small café. A man sat by the window, his gaze locked onto Ken with an intensity that made Ken freeze in his tracks. For a second, Ken thought he might’ve done something wrong. Did he accidentally break some unspoken real-world rule? Did he have something on his face?

Before Ken could decide whether to bolt or keep walking, the café door flew open, and the man came rushing toward him. His expression was filled with excitement, and he seemed so eager that he nearly tripped over himself. “Hey! You!” the man called out, breathless, as he came to a halt in front of Ken.

Ken blinked, pointing to himself in confusion. “Me?”

"Yeah, you!" The man was practically bouncing on his feet, his eyes scanning Ken up and down as though he couldn’t believe his luck. “I’m sorry to stop you, but I just have to draw you.”

Ken tilted his head, his confusion deepening. “Draw me?” he repeated slowly, trying to make sense of what the man was asking. “Why?”

The man smiled, clearly amused by Ken’s innocent bewilderment. “Because you’re perfect, just stunning. Your features, they’re unreal. You look like a sculpture or like a doll.” His eyes twinkled as he took in Ken’s sharp cheekbones and the way his hair perfectly framed his face.

Ken’s mind was spinning. He’d been called many things in his life—cool, fashionable, maybe even handsome once or twice—but no one had ever stopped him on the street just to draw him. He stood there, helpless and unsure, like a puppy who didn’t quite know what it was supposed to do. His big blue eyes darted from the man to the café, then back to the man again. No Barbie in sight to guide him.

“I…I guess?” Ken finally stammered, still sounding more confused than anything. Before he could say anything else, the man gently grabbed his arm, his touch soft but insistent, and began guiding him toward the café.

Ken allowed himself to be pulled along, stumbling slightly as he tried to keep up with the man’s eager pace. His mind was still trying to catch up to the situation, his heart fluttering in his chest with a strange mix of nerves and excitement. The man’s enthusiasm was contagious, and though Ken didn’t fully understand why he was being dragged into this café, he found himself smiling a little.

Once inside, the man ushered Ken to a small table by the window. “Here, sit down,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. Ken sat down awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of his vest as he looked around.

“So, um…what do I do?” Ken asked, his voice soft and unsure, as he shifted in his seat. His feet fidgeted under the table, and his hands hovered in the air like he didn’t know what to do with them.

The man smiled, already pulling out a sketchpad and pencil from his bag. “Just be yourself,” he said simply, glancing up at Ken with a soft chuckle. “You don’t have to do anything. Just sit.”

“O-okay,” Ken mumbled, still unsure but trying his best to relax. He watched the man as he began sketching, his pencil moving quickly over the paper. Ken was used to being looked at, but this felt different. The way the man’s eyes flickered back and forth between him and the page made Ken feel…special, like he was worth paying attention to, not just because he was with Barbie, but because he was him.

As the man sketched, Ken found himself staring at him with quiet admiration. There was something calming about the way he worked, how his whole focus seemed to be on capturing Ken on the page. It made Ken’s heart flutter in a way that was new, unfamiliar, and a little overwhelming. Time seemed to slow down, and for once, Ken didn’t feel lost or unsure of himself. He didn’t feel like he needed to be anything other than who he was, and that was kind of nice.

When the man finally finished, he turned the sketchpad around, revealing the drawing to Ken with a proud smile. Ken’s eyes went wide as he stared at it. The drawing wasn’t just accurate—it captured something more. There was a softness in his expression, a vulnerability that Ken hadn’t even realized was there.

“Wow…” Ken whispered, his voice barely audible. He didn’t know what else to say. The sketch was beautiful, and it was him, but somehow, it made him feel more real than he ever had before.

The man smiled at Ken’s reaction, seeming pleased with his work. Then, almost as an afterthought, he tore the page from his sketchpad and handed it to Ken. “Here. You should keep this.”

Ken blinked, staring down at the sketch in his hands as if it were the most precious thing in the world. “Really? I can keep it?”

“Of course,” the man said with a soft chuckle. “I made it for you.”

Ken’s heart swelled with a warm, unfamiliar feeling, something that made his chest feel light and tingly. “Thank you…” he mumbled, still staring at the drawing in awe.

The man stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’ve got to run, but…maybe I’ll see you around?” He gave Ken one last smile before turning and walking out of the café.

Ken watched the man go, his gaze lingering on his retreating figure with a quiet sense of longing. There was something about him that made Ken feel safe, like he didn’t have to be anything other than himself. He stared after him, feeling that same flutter in his chest, something warm and hopeful.

As Ken sat there, clutching the sketch, he noticed something scribbled on the back of the paper. He flipped it over, and his eyes widened. There, written in small, messy handwriting, was a phone number. Ken’s heart skipped a beat, his cheeks flushing as he stared at the numbers. He glanced up again, watching the man disappear into the busy street. A soft, shy smile crept onto his face as the realization slowly sank in.

Maybe the real world wasn’t so bad after all.

[dexteri0us]

no, i don't want nothing crazy; just wanna get you alone; and all of this snow is falling; i can make you fall too

pairing: best friend's dad!dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: fluff, domesticity, harrison (listen, i'm not a fan of his, but he serves a purpose), age gap (both reader and harrison are in college), best friend's dad!dexter, smut - shower sex, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, dom!dexter

summary: requested: "shower sex with dexter? please and thank you 🙏🏻"

w/c: 6.9k

a/n: i honestly love new blood and i will always consider it a christmas tv. merry christmas!🎄

Spending Christmas in Iron Lake wasn’t your initial plan, but now that you thought about it, it was for the better. You were supposed to spend Christmas with your dad this year. It also included him picking you up in Iron Lake and driving you to New York, but he backed out at the last minute. You weren’t even surprised at this point; he always went out of his way to let you down. Or maybe it was just your perception. After all, he said the same thing about you.

Going to your mom’s wasn’t an option either, not with her boyfriend in the picture. He was a carbon copy of your dad, not just in appearance in attitude too. Arrogant, dismissive, and always acting like spending time with you was beneath him, especially when you were a teenager. He’d never really made an effort to connect. So, you were pretty happy to get into college and move into the dorms. But that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted to spend Christmas alone.

You couldn’t ask Harrison to take you either because he had plans with Audrey.  

“Fuck.” You muttered, reading the text from your dad.  

“What’s wrong?” Harrison asked, glancing up from across the table. A smudge of clung to the corner of his mouth as he took another bite of his cheeseburger, his eyes briefly scanning the diner for a waitress that would bring him another cup of coffee.

“Dad bailed on me. I’ll probably have to hitchhike to get to New York.”

“What? No way! I’ll drive you,” he said immediately.

“Harrison.” You gave him a look. “You promised Audrey to help her and Angela with the charity drive.”

“Out of all people, I think Angela and Audrey would understand.” 

You raised a brow at him, knowing full well he’d argue until he was blue in the face, but you weren’t about to let him ruin his plans because of you. You were big on keeping promises, and you sure as hell weren’t going to be the reason someone broke theirs.

“Well, you can always spend Christmas with us. My dad won’t mind.”

And that’s how you ended up swapping the couch for the bed with Harrison every night, spending the first of many Christmas breaks with the Morgans. Well, technically the Morgan-Lindsays, but to you, Harrison’s dad would always be Mr. Morgan.

When you first called him that, he just stared at you, almost startled, but Harrison had quickly jumped in to explain. Not to you, to his dad, that you just couldn’t get used to the difference in their last names. He seemed to relax a little after that, though he still looked kind of stiff most of the time.

Sometimes, you wondered if he didn’t like you, or if your presence made him uneasy. But Harrison had reassured you that he was always like that. He’s just weird like that. Don’t take it personally.

So, you didn’t. And truth be told, over the next Christmases you spent with the father-son duo, you became more comfortable around Mr. Morgan – or Jim, as he insisted on calling him. “Jim” just felt unnatural to you, so usually, you just settled for “hey” to get his attention. But every now and then, “Mr. Morgan” would slip out of your mouth. And truth be told, you thought he liked it.

Eventually, it would become like a running joke between you two.

One night, during your second Christmas in Iron Lake, you caught him with that amused smile on his face when you said it again.

“What?” You asked, passing him a plate to dry as the two of you cleaned up after dinner. Harrison was in the other room, button-mashing his way through a video game.

“What?” Mr. Morgan asked, glancing at you with mock confusion.

“Every time I call you Mr. Morgan, you look like you’re holding back some big inside joke.”

“Do I?” he said lightly, his brows furrowed, but the smirk formed by his lips didn’t falter.

“Yeah.” You snorted, as if it was the most obvious thing. “It’s weird.”

“Weird? I’ll have to talk to Harrison, he’s bad influence.”

You just rolled your eyes. You weren’t going to kid yourself. You had developed almost a feet-kicking crush on him and his teasing wasn’t helping. You felt like a little girl with a silly crush on her classmate.

You remember how reserved he had been, intense, when you met him for the first time. It had made you a little bit uncomfortable, but paradoxically, you preferred that to some pretense-interest in your life. He already knew about your situation with your dad and your mother – or more specifically, with her boyfriend.

You loved Harrison, but he kind of had a big mouth on him, and he had told his dad. You could tell from the way Mr. Morgan avoided the subject altogether. Honestly, it was refreshing. Audrey’s mom asked about your parents every year – polite but a bit probing, sometimes you felt like she was judging you and or maybe thought there was more to the story. You didn’t blame her, though. First, she was a cop, and second, they were your family, after all. At least, by blood.

Still, you felt more welcome here than you ever did with your parents. Mr. Morgan made it so easy too, even if things had been a little awkward at first.

The first Christmas you spent in Iron Lake, you ended up in the woods with Mr. Morgan, collecting firewood. Harrison made sure you felt comfortable being alone with him, and you did, it was just a little awkward.

You didn’t know what was weirder – spending Christmas in Iron Lake, or trudging into the woods along with your best friend’s dad. He didn’t exactly scream “festive cheer” with his quiet, no-nonsense demeanor.

Harrison had once told you that he wasn’t always like that. Apparently, there had been some kind of hunting accident, back when Harrison was learning how to shoot. He’d hit his dad, barely missing the heart, but he'd survived. Harrison described it as a Christmas miracle, but from that moment on, Mr. Morgan just hadn’t felt the need to celebrate Christmas like he had the years prior.

You watched him move through the snowy woods with certainty, like he already knew exactly which trees to check for fallen branches.

“So, uh… you do this every year?”

Nice. Real charming. You were a master in manipulating professors into extending deadlines. How are you so bad at making casual conversation?

“Pretty much,” he replied without looking up, crouching to grab a branch half-buried in the snow. “Wood-burning stove keeps the place warm. It’s more reliable than the heater.”

“Oh.” You nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at you. The cool air bit into your cheeks, your boots crunching in the snow as you followed a few steps behind. Then you tried again. “I mean, I guess it makes sense. You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d be big on central heating.”

You tried to joke, but he stopped for a moment, straightening up and glancing at you with a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “What kind of guy do I strike you as?”

“Well, you know.” You shrugged, trying to not get distracted by the joke going over his head. “The ‘off-the-grid cabin’ type. Knows his way around a woodchipper. Probably has a couple of tarps in the trunk, just in case.”

He watched you, probably waiting for a smile to crack, but your expression remained serious. You started to think maybe you’d gone too far. But then he finally snorted softly, pointing the branch in your direction.

“Tarps are versatile.”

His delivery was deadpan too, so dry it caught you off guard. Was that… a joke? You couldn’t tell, but you let out a laugh anyway. You decided to just role with it.

“Right. For winter emergencies.”

He didn’t respond, just gave a faint nod as he tossed another branch onto the sled you’d brought along.

“You’re doing fine,” he said after a moment, his tone surprisingly reassuring.

It made you scoff, your breath puffing in the cold air.

“Thanks Mr. Morgan, I was really worried about failing Firewood 101.”

You really enjoyed spending time with him like that, even though he didn’t talk much. But the way he adjusted his pace so you wouldn’t fall behind, stepped on a stick that was stubbornly stuck to the sole of your boot, or helped you with a stubborn log trapped under the snow made you feel like you didn’t have to try so hard.

When that Christmas break ended, you felt kind of bittersweet, because you knew you’d now see him only occasionally when he’d visit Harrison in New York. That is, if you were lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. But the year went by like nothing, and lo and behold, Harrison had invited you to spend another Christmas with them, saying that his dad brought it up first. To Harrison, it meant nothing, to you? Every-fucking-thing.

So now, during the second Christmas with the Morgans, you were doing domestic shit with him, like washing dishes while he was teasing you. It made your body all jittery with every passing moment. Hell, you didn’t even mind that he didn’t have a dishwasher, because you liked doing dishes with him. And Harrison was grateful for that too. See, everyone was getting something out of it.

“Maybe I just think it’s funny. You’re so committed to it. But I guess it’s better than calling me hey.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Okay, you brought that on yourself. No offense, but Jim just doesn’t suit you. It’s too basic.”

He had that faint smile on his face again, his eyelids dropped as if he was having a whole inner monologue again, but you didn’t call him out this time.

When that Christmas ended, you didn’t have to wait long to see him again. Harrison started inviting you to every holiday – Easter, Halloween and Thanksgiving. Of course, you couldn’t make it to all of them, but you did appreciate the extra time you got to spend with Mr. Morgan. He’d even helped you, Harrison and Audrey move them into their new apartment in New York. And you were too naïve and paranoid, so you thought he was doing it all for you.

So, next Christmas, you decided to come prepared.

“You can’t give her another necklace. Try to be original,” you said, sipping on your coffee, watching Harrison rub his temples as he tried to think of a Christmas present for Audrey.

“Okay… okay.” He sighed, letting his hands fall to the table, grinding his teeth as if he was contemplating his thoughts. “I have an idea. But it’s big and you’re gonna laugh.”

“Okay. All the more reason why you should tell me.”  

He took a deep breath, and then, he spit it out.

“I bought her a ring. An engagement ring.”

Your eyes widened and your lips broke into a huge smile. “No fucking way. Are you fucking kidding?”

“See? I knew you were gonna laugh at me.” He rolled his eyes and fell back into his seat, crossing his arms like a child.

“I’m not laughing at you. That’s amazing, Harrison. Oh, my God.”

“But?”

You stayed silent for a moment, figuring out a way to put it gently. “But… Audrey hates clichés.”

He closed his eyes in exasperation.

“Fuck.”

“No, hey. You can propose to her, but maybe don’t make it the main thing, you know.”

He sighed, rising to his feet with a small scowl on his face.

“Hey,” you said softly, “I’m so happy for you two. And she will be too.”

You exchanged smiles before he made his exit. You leaned against the back of the seat and looked out of the window to your right side, still smiling. You wondered if Mr. Morgan and Angela knew.

You got back to the crossword puzzle you put under your plate, munching on the bagel to fill your stomach and enjoying the faint Christmas music playing from the speakers. The waitress had just refilled your cup when someone slid into the booth across from you.

At first, you didn’t look up, assuming it was Harrison again, maybe realizing he’d forgotten something. But when you finally glanced up, you were met with a face you hadn’t expected.

“Morning,” the man said, his voice smooth and polite. It made you sit up just a little bit straighter.

“Uh, morning.” You smiled back.

“I couldn’t help but notice you sitting here alone,” he continued, leaning forward just slightly. “I’m Kurt. Kurt Caldwell.” He extended a hand across the table, his palm up.

You introduced yourself, putting your hand into his. You’d heard about Mr. Caldwell. They’d said he was a very kind and fair employer, someone who took care of his own. But after his son's death, he'd vanished from the public eye for a while.

For such a small town, there was sure a lot of accidents. Tragedies. On the brighter side, the number of of missing women cases dropped in the past few years, so that's that.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, just visiting,” you said with a smile but remained cautious. After all, he was a stranger. And you’re not one to underestimate the stranger danger rule. Not even in a small community like this.

“Really? We don’t have many visitors this time of year, Christmas tends to keep people close to home. You staying with family?”

“Friends,” you corrected.

“That’s nice. It’s always good to have people you can rely on during the holidays.”

You offered him another polite smile, unsure of what to say. He seemed harmless, but people randomly coming up to you were instantly weird to you. Welcome to a small town.

“You know, if you’re looking for something to do while you’re in town, I run a little truck stop just outside the main strip. Got a great diner there, too, and we’re always looking for friendly faces to stop by. First meal’s on me.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it,” you replied, laughing with him.

You pretended to get back to your puzzle, hoping he’d leave you alone, but before he could say anything else, the bell above the diner’s door jingled, and you heard your name.

You turned to see Mr. Morgan standing in the doorway, his presence commanding. He scanned the booth, his eyes landing on Kurt before flicking to you.

“Oh, hi.” You waved awkwardly at him as you watched him stride towards your table.

“Harrison forgot his gloves,” he told you, even though his gaze was locked on Kurt.

“Oh, right. I’ll text him.” You grabbed your phone, completely oblivious to the silent standoff happening between Mr. Morgan and Mr. Caldwell.

Mr. Caldwell stood, his smile losing some of its warmth. “Well, I should get going. It was nice to meet you, YN. Hope I’ll see you around.”

You gave him a polite nod and with that, he turned and walked out of the diner.

Mr. Morgan waited until the door closed behind him before he finally spoke.

“You okay?”

You hit send and looked up.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You asked, brows furrowed.

“Just checking.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, grabbing the empty sugar packet on the table and crumpling it in his hand. “But next time, maybe stick to sitting with people you actually know.”

This time, his tone was firm, almost scolding. You blinked at him, taken aback by this side of him. Now that you thought about it, you had never seen him pissed. And you didn’t know how to react. Your muscle memory took over for you, feeling the need to get defensive.

“Okay… I wasn’t – he just sat down. I didn’t –”

“Finish your breakfast. I’ll drive you back.” He interrupted, glancing out the window one more time as he watched Kurt’s truck disappear down the road.

You weren’t sure if it was the way he was ordering you around, or the way his hand hovered over the small of your back as he led you out of the diner, or the darkness that spread across his face, but something was sending shivers down your spine.

That evening, it was the first time you touched yourself to the thought of Mr. Morgan. You started wearing more revealing clothes, nothing fancy, just simple shorts and tank tops that would just show your skin, even though it was literally freezing outside. Overtime, you got bolder, getting close to him when Harrison wasn’t looking, unnecessarily leaning over him or brushing against him with your ass. When it was your turn on the couch, you’d purposefully stay uncovered, hoping that the tight shorts would ride up your ass while you were sleeping, to bring a little diversity to his early-morning routines.

He was a smart man. He knew what you were doing. And unfortunately for you, he was resilient.

“You sure you aren’t cold?” he’d asked once as you mixed the batter for gingerbread cookies, leaning casually against the counter behind you. And when you turned around, you saw his eyes flick from your exposed legs to your face. He did exactly nothing to hide it.

“I’m sure.”

You gave him an innocent smile and returned your focus to the batter, smirking to yourself.

“It’s below freezing outside.”

Yeah, tell me about it.

“Exactly. Outside. That’s why we collect firewood, right?”

“Hmm.”

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he studied you. Or tried to intimidate you? Honestly, you had no idea. “Doesn’t really explain why you’ve been walking around dressed like it’s summer for the past week.”

You paused, holding the bowl against your ribcage as you turned to face him.

“Maybe I’m just trying to liven up this place. Bring some Miami energy to Iron Lake.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “Miami energy?” He repeated the words like they amused him, though his tone was dry. “Interesting choice.”

Your cheeks flushed and a shiver ran down your arms – and not from the cold. Maybe, just maybe, you should have kept your mouth shut. Harrison had told you that they’d moved from Florida. But you didn’t need to mention that part.

You were waiting for him to say something else, but he didn’t. He just stared at you, with that expression on his face that said that you were crossing a line. He made you too aware of your whole being – your skin, your lips, your eyes, everything was twitching or at least it felt like it was.

Gulping down the lump in your throat, trying as much as you could to make it unnoticeable, you turned your back to him again. He didn’t say anything more, and when you heard him walk away, you finally felt like you had space to breathe again. You hoped he at least checked you out one more time before leaving. Your cheeks still burned with a mix of embarrassment and frustration, and your body ached with an unfulfilled desire that he seemed intent on ignoring.

But still. He wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted you to believe. You just needed to figure out how to crack him.

Sometimes, less was more. So, the next evening, you decided to try something else. You’d packed a pair of thigh-high, cable-knit burgundy socks that you almost never wore – you found out quickly it was too impractical for everyday use. You thanked yourself for not selling them on Vinted, because now, they had a perfect use.

They clung perfectly to your legs, and you paired them with an over-sized sweater that was barely covering your thighs, leaving a teasing strip of skin visible when you moved. And that was the only thing you were relying on. Well, that and your sweater riding up when you’d stretch yourself up to hang the Christmas decorations.

You slid into your Birkenstocks and took a deep breath. Showtime.

You had been at the cabin alone, but you knew exactly when he was coming home. You’d timed it all perfectly, waiting until you knew he’d walk in and see you in the middle of something. Harrison wouldn’t have noticed the outfit, but Mr. Morgan noticed everything, even when he pretended he didn’t.

It was quiet as you set up for decorating, untangling the mess of Christmas lights while waiting. Any minute now. And then, you felt a gust of icy wind as Mr. Morgan made his entrance. You glanced over your shoulder, greeting him with a fleeting smile, pretending not to pay him too much attention.

“How was work?” you asked as you started to wrap the lights around the mantle, focusing on draping the string evenly.

“Average.” He said as he threw his car keys into the bowl by the door. “Did the cold finally get to you?”

You smirked to yourself, proud that you made unable to resist commenting on your clothes. First thing that came to his mind. Meaning the image of you in your usual shorts must've been lingering somewhere in his had. It had to be.

“Yeah, you were right. I wouldn’t want to spend Christmas in bed, on the cusp of dying,” you said, feigning defeat. “Where’s Harrison? He was supposed to help me.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t know.”

Well, you did. He was still at the tavern, because you told him you’d start at around nine. It was around six o’clock.

“Never mind." you said with a small shrug, turning to adjust a strand of lights. "At least I don’t have to listen to how everything's at the wrong angle.”

That earned a fait snort from him. His boots thudded against the floor as he crossed the room.  “You need a hand?”

“No, thanks. But you’re welcome to supervise. You’re good at that.”

“Funny.”  

“Is it?”

You reached for the next decoration – a thin garland of cranberries – and stretched up on your tiptoes to hook it around the nail, feeling the hem of your sweater ride up, baring the tops of your thighs. You could almost feel the moment he noticed by the way the silence in the room sharpened.

“I should’ve bought you some proper clothes for Christmas.”

Oh, my God. You couldn’t believe it worked.

“Really? And what would you consider proper, Mr. Morgan?”

You turned to face him, watching his eyes darken, his pupils dilate as his eyes flicked to your legs and then back to your face, his jaw tightening slightly. “Something warmer.”

“Warmer?” you echoed, glancing down at your cozy outfit. “I thought this was perfectly appropriate for decorating.”

“Appropriate for what, exactly?”

You tilted your head, the corners of your lips quirking upward as you shrugged playfully. “For making the place feel festive.”

“Festive.” He repeated with a strong voice. “If you say so.”

You stepped closer, your fingers fiddling with a stray cranberry that had fallen into your hand. “You don’t approve?”

Oof. Well, go big or go home.  

His posture shifted, straightening just enough to make him seem even taller, making you crane your neck to hold the eye contact. “I didn’t say that.”

A tiny victory. You nearly let your grin slip, but you had to hold it back. You still didn’t get what you wanted.

“Well, if you have any decorating tips, I’m all ears," you said casually, turning your attention back to the box of ornaments. You pulled out another string of lights and moved around the room.

You repeated the same tactics again and again. Sometimes, you bent down deliberately to give him a different angle as he ate his dinner, before retreating to the couch and doing something on his computer. Other times, you stretched a little too far to reach something, the edge of your sweater lifting again, revealing more skin.

The room was finally coming together, warm light casting shadows across the walls, the faint scent of pine and cinnamon filling the air. You collected the empty boxes and stray bits of ribbon scattered on the floor and stepped back to admire your work.

With everything in place, you decided to retreat to the bathroom for a well-earned shower. Stripping out of your sweater and socks, you paused with your hand on the faucet knob, another idea sparking in your mind.

If he wanted to keep his composure, he was going to have to work harder. You hadn't done all of this for nothing.

You grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly around yourself before heading into the living room, where he was still locked in whatever he was doing on his laptop.

“Mr. Morgan?” you called, your voice intentionally soft.

“Yes?”

He glanced over his shoulder, and his brow immediately fell, his eyes roaming your body yet again.

“The shower isn’t working. You think you could take a look at it?”

For a moment, he didn’t move, his eyes narrowing, trying to decipher your intentions. Shit, he was already onto you and you were scared you’d really scare him away. But then he rose to his feet and made his way to the bathroom. He eyed you suspiciously as he walked by you, but you just gave him an innocent smile. He disappeared into the bathroom, the faint creak of the old wooden door echoing through the cabin. You followed close behind, feeling the chill of the room raise goosebumps on your skin. The sound of him inspecting the faucet, twisting the knobs, testing the showerhead and eventually the sound of water filled the silence.

“It’s working fine. You probably didn’t turn the knob far enough.”

“Oh. My mistake.”

You stepped further into the cramped space, closing the door behind you quietly and leaning against it, nibbling on your lip.

He turned around, sighing as he was already aware of you caging him.

“YN,” he said, giving you a chance to back out. “What are you doing?”

He stepped closer to you, his sturdy figure towering over you. You shifted your weight from one foot to another, trying to not let your composure slip.

“Well, I thought maybe you could teach me how to fix it,” you shrugged your shoulders, the words stumbling out before you could really think them through.

“You don’t need to know how to fix it if it’s not broken.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the towel tighter, the only thing keeping you grounded, really. You could be here forever with this back and forth, words felt useless. So instead of saying anything, you rose to your tiptoes and kissed him. It wasn’t bold, not entirely; you lingered just long enough to make your intention clear, then pulled back.

You couldn’t read him, his eyes were closed and his lips still parted from the kiss before he finally spoke.

“This isn’t supposed to happen,” he said, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“Why? Because it doesn’t fit into your routine?” You meant it as a joke, but this was really not the time.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might walk away. But then he stepped just a little bit closer, his hands bracing on either side of the door behind you, caging you in.

“You can’t even imagine what I’m capable of.”

You probably couldn’t, but it didn’t even matter. You found him attractive, and you wanted him. It was as simple as that.

“You sure you want to take that risk? All because you can’t help but act on your impulses? Last chance. Walk away.”

But you didn’t and you let him know with a subtle shake of your head. And that was it. Whatever restraint he’d been holding onto snapped like a thread pulled too tight. His mouth was on yours in an instant, the kiss rough and urgent. His hand slid from your neck to your jaw, tilting your face just enough to deepen the kiss.

You’d never been with an older man, but man, was this something else. He wasn’t careful about it. Even though he didn’t strike you as the most confident guy at first sight, the kiss convinced you otherwise. It was a stark contrast to your previous boyfriends. They’d been clumsy and eager, but Mr. Morgan – Jim knew exactly what he wanted and how to take it.

You barely had time to catch your breath as his lips left yours, trailing along your jaw, his stubble scraping your skin in a way that made your knees weak. He didn’t waste any more time as his other hand slid up your inner thigh and beneath the towel, going straight to your pussy. You gasped as his finger found your wetness, fighting the urge to shy away.

In no time, his clothes were gone and the towel pooled on the floor. He gripped your hips firmly, turning your bodies around and guiding you under the steady stream of water pouring from the showerhead. The sensation of cool water against your skin was overshadowed by the way his hands roamed your body and pulled you against him, making you dig your nails into his biceps.

“Jim,” you gasped as his cock brushed against your cunt, but his hand shot up to your face, covering your mouth.

“No.” He growled. “You picked the wrong time to use that name.”

Your brows knit together in confusion. That name? What was that supposed to mean? 

“Get on your knees.”

Without hesitation, you obeyed, sinking to your knees in front of him, your kneecaps digging into the wet tiles. He shifted his body so his broad frame was shielding you from the stream of water, making you aware of the cool air prickling your damp skin.

The droplets were cascading down his chest and over the taut lines of his stomach. Your eyes lifted from the scar on his left side to meet his, and for a moment, he just simply looked at you. Admired you. Then, with one hand cradling the back of your head and the other stroking his cock, he guided you closer.

You opened your mouth automatically, your lips almost wrapping around his head, but before you made a contact, he gripped your soaked hair and pulled you away, making you shriek.

“Did I tell you you could put your mouth on me?”   

“No,” you said with a small voice.

“That’s right. So, let’s try this again. Who’s in control?”

“You are, Mr. Morgan.”  

You felt your pussy throb from the way he was ordering you around. And for a split second, you were doubting yourself that you could handle it. What if he thought you were pathetic? What if he waited for you to fight back? What if he wanted you to be bratty?

“Hey, look at me,” he said, his voice softer than before, but it was still demanding. His thumb brushed along your shiny lips before continuing. “You’re beautiful. Don’t overthink this.”

Yeah, probably easy for him to say, but you nodded anyway.

“Stick your tongue out. Keep it out.”

You obeyed, opening your mouth wide and letting your tongue rest on your chin. He gripped your jaw again, holding you in place. His cock brushed lightly against your tongue, before letting go of your jaw and bringing his hand to the back of your neck, squeezing, as he guided you down his cock. Automatically, your hands shot up to grab onto his thighs.

“Now, if it gets too much, you tap my leg three times, okay?”

You nodded, the movement of your head with his cock in your mouth making him hiss.

“Show me.”

You tapped his thigh.

“Good girl.”

Your chest swelled with pride as he praised you. This was a whole another level of making you feel good, and you’d never guess it would be coming from your best friend’s father. And not only was he making you feel good, but he also gave you confidence, making you slide your mouth around his cock in a more steady rhythm with him still controlling the movements.

It was slow at first, but you felt that he was holding back, so when he went to pull your head back, you overpowered his strength and instead let his cock slide deep into your throat, making you gag while he simultaneously moaned at the unexpected feeling. He pulled out of your mouth, a string of saliva and precum connecting your lips to the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he whispered, as his palm wiped your chin. Well, more like spread the fluids over your lower jaw, before he returned his cock into your mouth and fucked it. He finally let go, hitting your throat over and over again, making you gag and cough around him, up until the point tears started sliding down your cheeks.

You were so close to tapping out, but before you could signal to him, he pulled out and leaned down, grabbing your jaw as he kissed your open mouth, tasting himself on you.

“Get up.”

You stumbled slightly as you got to your feet, your knees weak and sore from being in that position for so long. He didn’t give you a chance to steady yourself, grabbing your hips and spinning you around. Your back hit his chest as he guided you toward the tiled wall.

“Hands on the wall.”

As you did so, his hand trailed down your back, lingering over the curve of your ass before landing a sharp smack that made you gasp, and wow. You’d never have guessed that he’d be such a kinky motherfucker.

It’s not like you hadn’t had a guy slap your ass before, but this was just different. You remember being unable to get turned on when your sexual partner would spank you. You remember thinking maybe there was something wrong with you. It’s not like you didn’t like it or like it made you uncomfortable. You just hadn’t felt anything. It hadn’t hurt. It hadn’t sting. It had been like eating plain, salted chips. They taste good, but they don’t really get you excited.

But from Mr. Morgan, it burned, and it was the best feeling in the world. He skimmed his nails against the flesh of your butt, as if tracing the hand-print that was surely forming there. He placed kisses down your back until he was kissing your stinging skin. You shied away as you realized he was now kneeling behind you, but he quickly caught you by the creases where your thigh meets your abdomen, pulling you back to him.

“Spread your legs,” he instructed yet again.

Your heart pounded, the position feeling unnatural, but despite that, you moved your feet apart, feeling the stickiness between your thighs. You flinched as his cold fingers made contact with your pussy, but quickly recovered. He buried his thumb between your pussy lips, parting them as he slid it from your hole to your clit, pressing down harder as he circled the sensitive bud.

Your whole body vibrated, the blood rushing through your body and into your throbbing clit. He kept flicking it with his finger, occasionally slowing down to pull the hood of your clit back to focus on the most innervated part of you. You arched your back, as he brushed over that spot, making your stomach tighten. Then he finally brought his fingers to your cunt, pushing in one, then two fingers. It made you mewl, the way he was carefully sliding them in and out, enjoying every ridge of your walls. You heard him sigh, feeling his hot breath bouncing off your ass. It made you realize how bad you wanted his mouth on your pussy.

And as if he read your thoughts, his fingers slid out of you and to your clit, as he replaced them with his tongue, flexing it and fucking you with it straight away. He was licking up your walls, the wet muscle prodding against them, making you moan. The finger still worked your clit, but when you felt him open his mouth wide and bury his face even further into your ass to get his tongue as far as he possibly could. It made you see galaxies.

When he felt you twitching against him, already trying to get away, albeit unintentionally, he circled both your thighs with his arm, trapping you against him. You were basically sitting on his face and now that his fingers left your clit, he slid his chin lower, his stubble scratching your skin as the tip of his tongue massaged your clit. His nose was buried in your wet hole now, his cheeks squished by your thighs, and you were scared you were going to suffocate him. Unfortunately, it was his fault and his fault only that you stopped caring as soon as you heard the squelching sounds of your pussy as his tongue kept delving into you. That’s what he did, he made you selfish. He was bringing you closer to the edge and the only thing you cared about was falling.

And with his tongue flicking against your clit, you soon felt the knot in your stomach tightening, until you let go. Your release poured out of you and he was catching it all on his tongue, licking everything up.

Once he got every drop, he stood to his full height, his arms encircling you. I made you feel safe, secured. One of his hands landed on your breast, squeezing and pinching your nipple as he kissed along your neck and then your shoulder, waiting for you to fully come down. You let your head fall backwards against his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck.

He smelled so good. Or maybe it was just the undetectable pheromones spreading through the air that sharpened every sense to its peak. You felt like a mess. Your hands itched to adjust your hair, to wipe at the moisture beading on your flushed skin, but you were too scared to move.

“Are you sure?” He asked as he pressed closer, his cock prodding at your cunt.

“Yes.”

And then he finally fucked you. Your back arched instinctively into him as he started thrusting, finding a steady rhythm. His hand slipped lower, tracing the line of your hip before dipping between your thighs again, spreading your pussy and grazing the nail of his finger over your clit. His hips moved harder and harder, the sounds of wet skin slapping against each other, his moans and your whimpers filled the room, the stream of water coming from the shower making a bad job at obscuring it. He was hitting that spot inside of you over and over again and combined with the sensation of his fingers on your clit and his teeth pressing against your shoulder as he licked the water from your skin made your knees buckle. He was going to leave a faint imprint, that’s for sure.

He was getting close too, or at least you thought so from the way he got louder and more high-pitched, fucking you faster. He wasn’t gentle about it. He wanted you to come hard around him, and it was working. You were getting closer and closer, and when he sank his teeth a little harder into your shoulder, not sure if it was intentional or in the heat of the moment, that name escaped your mouth on its own again.

“Jim–”

And in a snap of a finger, his hand shot up to your mouth, covering it and leaning your head back against his shoulder, his lips ghosting your ear.

“Dexter,” he said, his hand sliding down to your neck and lightly pressing against your throat. Your brain was mush, you didn’t know what he meant, your brows knitting in confusion as you tried to focus on what he just said. “Fucking say it.” He growled when you didn’t react, pinching your clit and giving you a particularly hard and deep thrust as he stopped him movements. 

“Dexter,” you moaned immediately. You just wanted to be good for him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he praised as he started fucking you again until you were coming around him. It made your whole body convulse. You hinged your hips to press against him and at the same time, to escape his wicked fingers. You brought your hand down to cover his on your pussy, thinking maybe it would bring you relieve from the overstimulation, but it did exactly nothing at all. You kept coming, coating his cock in your cum, making it easier for him to slide along your pussy walls, but harder for him to keep his cock from sliding all the way out. You were so slippery, your cunt clenching around him which brought him to his own edge, finally spilling himself inside of you.

Gradually, he slowed down until he eventually removed his cock from your pussy and freed your sensitive clit from his fingers. He did manage to slide them to your hole one last time, scooping up your mixed cum as he brought his hand in front your faces and admired it, his breath hot against the nape of your neck as he rubbed the juices between his fingers. You watched it slowly disappear under the running water before he let his arm fall to your hip, turning you around. He pressed his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, breathing heavily, before opening them again, his eyelashes catching the drops of water from the shower.

“Next time, I’m fucking you in those socks.”

[sillyuin]

Worth the wait

Genre: fluff, friends to lovers ??

Pairing: non idol Vernon x reader.

Yuin's note: Part (2/2). This is my carat secret santa gift for @hearts4hansol. Hope you like it, happy holidays sweetie! 🦭❤️

Vernon could hardly believe his ears when you agreed to go out with him. The image of your smiling face stayed in his mind throughout the night before the long-awaited date, with the hours feeling endless until the moment he arrived at the building where you lived to take you for a stroll.

The place was a café you'd wanted to visit for a long time; he'd thought about taking you there many times but preferred to wait for the right moment. And he waited patiently for this very specific moment.

“Are you sure?” you asked hesitantly just outside the entrance. “This place is… very expensive.”

“I already told you not to worry,” Vernon gave you a warm smile and stepped ahead to hold the door open for you. “Leave it to me.”

You walked in as he followed a step behind and you took sit at a table by a large window. Shortly after, a kind waiter approached with the menu, and the two of you looked through it together.

“Would it be okay if I pick this one?” you asked, pointing to an item on the menu which had a rather high price listed beside it.

Vernon noticed how you still seemed a bit nervous, so he placed his hand over yours and gave it a gentle pat. “Of course, don’t worry about it.”

You both placed the order with the waiter and a few minutes later he brought what you asked for.

The afternoon was filled with conversation and the delicious aroma of the desserts you both had chosen. You were very talkative, taking the lead in nearly every conversation and laughing non-stop at Vernon’s expressions in response to your stories.

He was quieter, simply keeping up with your rhythm. He seemed a little lost in thought, probably just way too stunned by you, your beauty and your precious voice he was pleased to hear; or maybe, just maybe, there was something going on in his mind…

“Are you even listening?” you suddenly asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re like… Vernoning too much.”

Vernon chuckled quietly, narrowing his eyes. “You were telling me about the time you went to buy that purple sweater you wanted so badly.”

You laughed and continued the story. “And that girl almost took it, but it was way too big for her.”

“If I remember correctly, it’s too big for you too,” Vernon teased while taking a sip of his coffee.

“What are you talking about? It fits me perfectly,” you raised an eyebrow and he did the same as a way to mock you, making both of you burst in laughter with the inside joke.

“Everything looks great on you,” he finished, looking at you until a shy smile crept onto your face.

“Well, as I was saying, I fought for that sweater to the very end…”

After a while, you glanced into the distance and noticed how night was almost there. Winter was approaching, and the sun was setting earlier. Vernon could see a hint of sadness in your eyes, so he quickly intervened.

“Would you like to order something to go?” he asked.

“I…” your gaze wandered a little, and you pointed very subtly towards a nearby table. “Can I order some gingerbread cookies, like the ones they ordered?”

Vernon nodded, and as he helped you gather the things on the table to make it easier for the waiter, the two of you headed to the counter to place your order. Finally, you left the café with a bag full of cookies and warm hearts.

On the way back to your apartment, you asked to take the longer route, and he happily agreed; the city during winter was too beautiful to just passing by, and you both wanted to walk and see the Christmas decoration while spending a little more quality time together.

As you strolled through the busy avenues of the city, you couldn’t stop commenting on how much you loved living there and how beautiful it was in every season. Vernon listened attentively to every word, though he barely said anything during the walk.

“What are you thinking about, Vernon?” you asked out of the blue, tilting your head slightly.

“Well, I…” he paused briefly, just to let out a soft sigh. “Okay, I’ll be honest. I’m just a little overwhelmed” His words were clumsy yet sincere. “I mean… I can't believe we're seriously dating. It's strange, but it feels nice.”

 “I feel a little weird too,” you replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a hint of shyness. “But it’s okay, we can make this work...”

At that moment, Vernon felt your hand touching his, and he swallowed hard. It was as if you had read his mind. As he intertwined his fingers with yours, the two of you finished the rest of the walk in near silence, exchanging occasional glances.

After a while, you finally arrived at the apartment complex where you lived, and he walked you to the entrance of the building. However, neither of you wanted to say goodbye, standing there in front of each other, unable to look away.

“Today was a beautiful day,” you sighed, a touch of nostalgia in your voice. “Next time, you pick the place, okay?”

“As long as it’s with you, anywhere is fine,” Vernon stepped closer, just a few inches away from you. Taking your hand nervously, he added, “I don’t know much about these things, but I want to figure them out with you.”

At that moment, a small snowflake landed on your forehead, followed by a second and a third. Both of you looked up in awe, watching the first snow of winter fall gently. You shook Vernon’s hand excitedly.

“It’s finally here…” you murmured, caught up in the moment. “When I moved to this city in the spring, I felt a little sad because I didn’t get to see it… But the wait was worth it, don’t you think?”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I once heard that… if you’re with someone special during the first snowfall, you have to give them a gift or you’ll be cursed.”

“Wait, who said that?” you asked, turning to look at him with a curious expression.

“Me, now,” Vernon replied almost instantly, making you laugh softly.

“So, do you have something for me?”

Vernon turned to look at you, your eyes and all your attention focused on him. He felt the heat rising to his face, and with great hesitation, he leaned in slightly, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling away nervously.

“Y/n,” he murmured, covering his eyes with one hand. “Please don’t tell our friends I said that.”

“It’ll be our little secret,” you said, and standing on your tiptoes, you gave him a small kiss on the temple. He slowly uncovered his face and gave you a shy smile. “Now, would you like to come inside and order something for dinner?”

“Sure, but only if you let me try one of your gingerbread cookies”

And stepping into the comfort and warmth of your apartment, the two of you spent the rest of the night enjoying junk food, pleasant music, and the promise of many more nights together.

[xmads-omensx]

Word Count: 1,356

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: smut, body worship, detailed description of physical appearance, very brief mentions of insecurities surrounding appearance, oral f. receiving

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @chey-h

The room was dark.

The curtains had been drawn quite some time ago since it was late into the evening.

Noah had his strong arms wrapped around my waist as he snored softly into the back of my neck.

It was nice.

The darkness was too.

I thought about Noah sleeping soundly behind me, a sense of jealousy consuming my veins.

How dare he be sleeping too well whilst I lie here and toss and turn.

It wasn’t his fault that my mind wouldn’t shut off.

Maybe it was.

I didn’t know.

My issues often kept me awake. I worried if people could see me. If someone were to break in and see me, and think I was too big. I wasn’t too big. I never was. But my brain didn’t agree.

It was hard to navigate. Especially at night when Noah wasn’t there to fight off the voices.

I didn’t want to wake him.

Not tonight.

He had just come back from the biggest show of his career thus far and needed his rest.

But so did I.

I was utterly exhausted.

My brain would not shut off, making it hard to do much else.

I lay in the darkness, enveloped in my boyfriends large frame, and thought.

I always thought.

I hated it.

Thinking took up too much of my time and I wanted to stop.

My brain needed to stop.

Everything needed to stop.

It wasn’t like my brain was telling my horrible, nasty things. It just wouldn’t stop thinking of possible perceptions of me.

Not all negative.

But all too much.

Most of the time, Noah would help me shut it off, but I doubted he would do that tonight.

My tossing had awoken him.

He rubbed his eyes and kissed my cheek.

“Why are you still up, babe?”

I shrugged.

I didn’t know what to tell him. Or how to tell him.

I just shrugged and snuggled my back further into him, my ass brushing his semi-hard cock.

He groaned quietly.

I giggled slightly at his reaction.

He gripped my hips with his large hands, stilling me in place.

“Baby, you gotta stop.” Noah groaned into my neck, making all the hairs stand up. I felt myself grow wetter as his chest vibrated behind me.

Fuck.

“Is it the thoughts again? Are they keeping you up?” He asked, sounding a little more concerned.

Wow, way to kill the mood, Noah.

I nodded.

“It’s nothing bad, just a lot of them at once.” I replied in a timid whisper. I didn’t want to divulge what my brain was saying just yet as I was hoping that the steamy atmosphere that had been created was still lingering.

“Can I show you something?” Noah whispered.

I nodded once again.

He pushed himself up slightly and wiggled his large body down the bed until he was hovering over my stomach.

His larger hands crept up my torso, pulling the baggy t-shirt that I was wearing up until my breasts were exposed. The chill in the air making my nipples perk up.

He motioned for me to lift up so that he could remove the shirt entirely. I complied, curious… and horny.

Noah’s beautiful brown eyes were alight with something other than lust and love. It was more intense. I couldn’t quite place it.

“Look at you.” He said, running his fingers up and down my sides, making me shiver under his delicate touch.

I could feel his hot breath against me as he leaned closer, as if he were marvelling at the very texture of my skin.

He seemed mesmerised by my body as he began to pull the black cotton panties I was wearing down my thighs until he had removed them completely.

His hands still wandered the expanse of my body, not yet touching me where I wanted him to so desperately.

“You’re the most beautiful creature I have ever had the privilege of seeing with my own eyes.” He whispered as his eyes remained transfixed on my skin.

He marvelled at every scar, every stretch mark, every freckle as if they were individual works of art.

“I could look at you forever.” He whispered, still not looking at my face.

Noah was so close to me, his body barely millimetres away from my own.

So close, in fact, that I could feel every hair on his body brushing against my own.

I felt his hard cock that remained restrained in his black boxers brush against my leg as he moved up higher, closer to my face.

“You amaze me in every way.” He whispered in my ear before capturing my lips in a tender, yet intense, kiss.

I moaned loudly and reached up to cup his cheeks, pulling him closer into me.

Taking the opportunity, with his body in such close proximity to my own, I raised my lower half up to grind against his own, hungry for some kind of friction, be it tiny.

He began to grind against me in return.

We remained like that for a short while, just enjoying each other’s presence, until it was all too much to bear and Noah pulled away.

“I gotta taste you, honey.” He murmured, transfixed in some sort of trance as he lowered himself down towards my pussy that ached with anticipation of what was to come.

First, I felt the tip of his nose brush against my clit.

Then, I felt his tongue expertly navigate through my folds as he began to eat my pussy.

He started slowly, as if he was making love to my sex with his mouth.

It was euphoric.

If there was some kind of award for eating pussy, Noah would win every damn category.

His hands traced delicate artworks on my thighs as he licked and kissed away out of my view. It grounded me, his fingertips dancing across my skin.

My body began to tingle, letting me know I was close. I was sure that Noah knew this too as he didn’t move his position in order to make me cum.

Despite me knowing that I was close, my orgasm always took me by surprise. A white hot light erupted in my brain as it painted bright fireworks across my eyelids, filling my body with overwhelming pleasure as I came on Noah’s stunningly handsome face.

He slowed his movement before pulling away from me, still wearing that tranced expression on his face.

The wetness on his chin reflected the slit of moonlight that shone through the gap in the curtains, making him look completely ethereal.

His large hands still sat on my thighs, caressing the skin gently.

Noah leant forward and brought his body up closer to my face, capturing my lips in a tender kiss. The kiss told me everything that I needed to know in that moment.

He loved me.

It warmed my heart, the fact that he didn’t need to say anything to tell me this.

He smiled down at me warmly, before lying back on his side and pulling me into his warm chest.

I could hear his heart beating quickly in his chest as my face was pushed up against it. This was where I felt safest.

“Baby, you are a work of art.” Noah whispered.

Unsure of what to reply with, I simply smiled up at my boyfriend.

“Seriously. You are. I don’t really know how else to show you.” He began, a pussy-drunk smile across his face. “So, I’m going to make love to you tonight, and worship you and your body like you deserve.”

My heart leapt in my chest.

“Let me worship you baby.” Noah whispered as he placed two fingers under my chin, raising it up enough to place a chaste kiss onto my lips before rolling back on top of me.

“I’m so lucky to get to see all of you.” He said before sliding his cock into me.

The rest of the night, and well into the morning, Noah made love to me.

Maybe he was right after all?

Maybe I do deserve to be worshipped?

[un-petit-sanctuaire]

Hollow

Pairing: Sylus x f!MC

Genre: Angst

Rating: General

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: You deal with your grief after his death.

Author’s Note: The idea for this story came to me right after I finished reading Sylus’s myth. I wanted to explore the grief we feel after losing him, as seen through our MC’s eyes. It also reminded me of Wings by Birdy, a song that beautifully captures the numbness and emptiness of mourning a loved one’s passing, which I think serves as the perfect companion to this piece. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I poured my heart (and tears) into writing it. ♡

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡

How long had it been?

Days? Weeks? Months?

Ever since that day, I had lost track of time.

The climb felt steep, though I couldn’t decide if it was the hill or the weight in my chest. Each step was a struggle, as if invisible chains were bound to my feet, dragging me back, telling me to stop.

It had been easier when he was here, hadn’t it? He would simply scoop me up in his arms, his wings slicing through the air as they carried us effortlessly to the top. Back then, the ground was alive; vivid red datura swayed under the breeze, their petals dancing around us in the wind. Now, the earth was cracked and barren, and the only thing that moved was the dust stirring under my feet.

I paused at the top, breath catching—not from the climb, but from the weight of his absence. In my head, I could almost see us sitting there, arms wrapped around each other. His soft chuckles seemed to ring in my ears as he brushed a stray strand of hair from my face.

The hill felt like a stranger now, unfamiliar and hollow, much like my world itself had become without him.

I made my way toward the stack of flower crowns on the ground, some of them decayed and withered, their petals brittle and curling at the edges. Kneeling down, I placed a new one on top—delicate blooms I’d gathered with painstaking effort from the forest. My fingers lingered on the flowers, brushing against the soft petals, as if holding onto something tangible—something real. Something to remind me of him, to keep my memory of him alive.

There was no grave, no mound of earth. Only these crowns marked the spot where his body had been when I held him in my arms in his final moments.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. For a split second, I thought I could still smell the flowers as they had been when the fragments of his soul dissolved, enveloping me for the last time.

Holding back the lump rising in my throat, I whispered,

“Hi, Sylus.”

Each time I came here, I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. Closure, perhaps? Or maybe it was the ache of missing him—the longing to at least talk to him, to feel his presence again. My mind was probably playing tricks on me now since he was gone. There was no body to speak to, no corpse. Just the hollow space in my chest screaming in silence.

Maybe that’s what I was searching for—to fill the hollow, even if just for a little while.

“I brought you fresh flowers,” I said, forcing a faint smile to tug at the corner of my lips. “Remember when you told me Tarus City could have flowers bloom everywhere for me? Well, you need to take accountability for your words now. I can only forage flowers from the forest—and with great effort too, so you’d better be grateful.”

I scoffed lightly, pausing for a moment.

“Climbing here was never easy. I wish I had wings like you—then I could just fly up.”

But what he said once was right. I was a young dragon who had just grown horns. And I had no wings.

“A bit useless, don’t you think?” I murmured. “A dragon without wings?”

I wrapped my tail around myself. At least I had a tail, though it wasn’t as big as his. I curled myself up, hugging my knees as my tail coiled around my waist and legs.

He used to do the same whenever he embraced me to sleep.

“Anyway… I’m getting used to my horns.” My fingers instinctively brushed against the sharp, rough surface sprouting from my head. “The first time they appeared, I kept knocking them against the wall.” I could imagine his amused expression if he had seen me like that.

If he saw me, that is.

Sylus, did you see me grow my horns?

The thought tightened something in my chest, and I hugged my knees closer.

“It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. You did tell me it hurt a bit when you grew yours.”

But it didn’t hurt because they grew, did it, Sylus?

It hurt because you wished they hadn’t.

You wished you never had those horns and tail. You wished you were never a dragon so you could fit in. You wished to live like a human. To be human.

My thoughts spiraled with memories etched deep into the back of my mind. A young boy standing before his reflection, a dagger in one hand and a broken horn in the other—both slick with blood. He was trembling. He looked terrified.

He looked like he’d seen a monster.

Like he was the monster.

I wished I had been there to hug the boy.

“If we had known each other when you were little, would you have loved your horns more?” I whispered, my lips trembling. If only someone had told him how beautiful they were, he probably wouldn’t have endured the pain of trying to remove them. If anything, those horns only made him even more beautiful. If only he could have seen it.

If only he could have seen his reflection through my eyes.

Even after he was gone, the nightmares still came. Nightmares where I was in his body, where I was him. Alone. His kind wiped out, leaving him as the last dragon in a world where he tried so hard to be accepted as a human.

Yet he couldn’t be human.

And that was okay.

I would tell him it was okay.

But the Legion didn’t see it that way. Not when they drove their weapon into his chest.

“I’m… sorry.”

The words trembled out as I choked on my tears. I wasn’t even sure what I was apologizing for. Was it for not being there for him? For knowing his life hung by a thread because of sins he never committed? For what others had done to him?

Or for being the one who would one day grant him his true death?

Before I knew it, my cheeks were wet. Tears fell silently, landing on the petals of the black datura at the bottom of the stack—those already withered and decaying.

It really hasn’t been the same without you, Sylus.

I wish we had more time.

If we did, maybe I could have made up for the years he spent alone. Maybe he would have known what it felt like to be truly loved—to have someone care for him so deeply it hurt when he was gone. When my dragon was gone.

Maybe then, he wouldn’t have felt so much like a monster.

“You told me…” the words stumbled from my lips, shaky, “…that our lives were bound together now. That you… wanted me to stay by your side. Until the end of time.”

And that’s what I’m doing now, Sylus. I’ve been constantly looking for you, searching for you. Begging, even, on some nights for you to come back. You promised we’d never betray each other. That we’d be tied to one another. I’m sure you wouldn’t break that bond.

You’ll come back, won’t you?

I wiped my tears with trembling fingers, forcing myself to calm my breath.

“You know, I managed to finish the requiem on the organ,” I finally uttered after what felt like an eternity. “I hope you heard it last time. Would you like me to sing it for you again?”

The requiem—a song for the departed, meant to soothe the dead.

Once again, my fingers brushed the petals of the flower crown I’d placed earlier as I began to sing. The melody spilled from my lips, soft and broken at first, then steadying as the notes filled the empty air. With each verse, my heart grew heavier, the weight of grief pressing down until it felt unbearable. Tears streamed freely now, but I kept singing. I needed to finish it—Sylus would want me to finish it. He loved it.

I just never thought I’d be singing it for him after he departed.

Each note I sang carried the weight of all the words I didn’t get to say, the moments we’d never have, the love I probably didn’t give him in full. It was as if the song itself wept, wrapping the barren hill in its sorrow, mourning him with me.

As I sang the final note, the sound lingered in the air before fading into silence.

“We’ll be together again… in this life or the next.”

The wind stirred the flowers, sending a few petals drifting into the air. They danced briefly, catching the light, before disappearing into the horizon. I took a deep breath and slowly rose to my feet, brushing the dust from my knees. My tail uncurled, swaying lightly behind me as I stood tall.

I’ll come find you again, Sylus.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

You'll Poke Your Eye Out

Prompt Day 25: Christmas | Word Count: 541 | Rating: T | CW: Lingering Upside Down Trauma, Language | Tags: Future Fic, Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Established Relationship, Christmas at Wayne's, Eating Nuts (Not Like That), Hurt/Comfort

Steve sits on the couch at Wayne's, a large stainless steel bowl in his lap, the nut cracker tool in one hand and metal pick in the other.

Eddie walks by behind the couch, brand new Polaroid camera hanging around his neck. It's been a full morning of Eddie taking pictures of anything and everything, laying the instant pictures out across every flat surface.

"You'll poke your eye out," Eddie says flippantly as he keeps moving. 

Well, that's not the plan, but if he does, maybe it'll have been worth it.

Because nothing, nothing, says it is Christmas like the big bowl of partially cracked open pecans on Wayne's coffee table. Steve had never had anything like it in his house while growing up. A big bowl of in-shell nuts, just sitting in the living room? His mother would have never allowed such a thing. The mess that could have even potentially been created would have given her hives.

Steve doesn't know where Wayne gets the nuts, or why they are such an integral part of the Munson family tradition, but he's grown to anticipate them every year.

The first time he'd seen the metal tools, they seemed kind of like medieval torture devices. Eddie had to show him how to use them: Putting the pecan between the metal claws, squeezing until the shell breaks. Then using the pick to dig out the meat. Eat. Rinse, repeat.

Sometimes it's walnuts, but it's usually pecans.

It gives him something to do with his hands, and he prefers that most of the time. He can't just sit still. Idle hands, and all that. Keeping his mind busy, even in this mundane way, is the best thing he's found to keep everything running smoothly. Steve knows Eddie bounced back from his tangle with the Upside Down almost totally unscathed. 

Steve didn't. 

That's not true. Not totally. 

He thought he was fine. The first year, even the second, he'd had no problems at all. But in time it snuck up on him, and knocked him to his knees. Eddie picked him back up, and he's been picking him up ever since. 

The physical scars he can deal with just fine, but the mental scars that were hidden away where he couldn't even tend to them fucking suck, and he prefers to keep busy.

So, today, he cracks nuts. 

When Eddie finally sits down next to him, Steve starts cracking them for him. One after another, handing over the small slivers of nuts, and occasionally entire halves in perfect condition. He'll be better at it by New Year's. The rust will be shaken off, and he'll be able to crack more without breaking them into small pieces. It just takes time to acclimate, he knows that and accepts it. 

It is what it is. Nothing is perfect, definitely not him, and he doesn't expect to be. Not anymore.

At the end of the night, he picks his empty shells out of the bowl, and tosses them in the trash. Eddie runs the Dustbuster around the couch, and it's like Steve never made a mess at all.

Tomorrow, Wayne will have refilled the bowl and Steve will start the process all over again, Eddie at his side.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

Notes: I feel like I often explore Eddie struggling after the events of S4, but what if Steve felt it more? What if Eddie bounced back like a cat using one of his nine lives?

[howlingmod]

under the mistletoe

summary - every phighter (seperately) x reader, as it sounds

misc - HAPPY HOLIDAYS ..... smiles

sword

"What?"

-doesn't plan it ; i don't think he knows it's a thing. no reasoning i just don't think he would be aware. he's not totally in the dark about all the little romanticisms of the holidays but this one's a little lost on hi.

-he doesn't really get it is all ......... it's cute sure, but he kisses you all the time, what's so special about this?

-he'll still get a little shy though, he's kissing you! in front of people! and you're fine with that! what! he's confident enough in your relationship, but he's still a little awestruck everytime you guys do something so intimate in public

-he likes knowing you're fine with people knowing you're together about as much as he likes to show you how much he loves you.

skate

"C'mon baby! It's the rules!"

-doesn't actively try to set it up too much. he's moreso just nudging you in the right riection every now and then and staring at it for most of the night. it's very obvious to everyone else.

-he just thinks its a staple! the mistletoe kiss is right up there with the new years kiss, it's one of the most romantic gestures out there (in his book)!

-honestly very sweet about it, will probably put his arms around our waist or grab and hold your hands to pull you closer.

-also he just likes showing you off and this is the easiest way of doing that other than all the verbal bragging he's doing that night. whoops.

katana

"..."

-not going to set it up or care much. it's a cute tradition, but nothing super important to him. plus, it's really gonna depend on your surroundings. if you're around other people, he'll keep it in mind for when you're alone (consider it a delayed one). if it's just you two, then he's a lot more likely to oblige.

-it's really up to you. if you seem nervous or uninterested, he's not going to push it at all. he'd much rather go at your pace and make sure you're ready and comfortable than pry for a silly tradition.

-he's a very sentimental kisser, so expect to be there for a few seconds. he likes taking his time so he can put as much of his heart into it as he can.

-while the tradition itself isn't anything to him, the gesture is very important to him. he's got some pretty gnarly scars, so knowing you're still willing to do something so intimate when you can see and feel them makes him happier than he knows how to say.

banhammer

"Funny seeing you here!"

-doesn't plan it really. he thinks about it, he thinks it'd be cute, but he doesn't really push you over there. he might whine about it a little afterwards if he doesn't end up doing it (it's so tropey, he has to man), but that's about it

-he takes it a liiitle seriously. he's all for traditions like this man you don't get it, he just thinks they've got such a charm to them. they're so simple and yet have so much payoff ...

-he's dropping a shitty one-liner sorry. he thinks its fun to flirt with you like you two aren't dating. he's gotta prove to you he's a good boyfriend, alright?

-sweet kisser though. if you're especially shorter thn him, he might lift you up into his arms a bit to make it easier on the both of you. if not, you're still getting pulled right up to him. it's cold outtt .... ::]

-

rocket

"Well, you know what they say!"

-nudges you in the right direction. he wants at least one, it's a classic! he's pretty similar to skate in this regard.

-it's a big show of affection in his eyes just because it encompasses so many feelings for him- he gets to show you off, he gets to kiss you, AND he gets to do something stupidly cheesy, what more could he want?

-he's a little messy with it- more so because he's excited. he ends up going in a little too fast and maybe bumping eachother if you're not careful.

-he'll have an arm around your waist for the rest of the night. he's pretty proud of himself.

slingshot

"What? Oh- OH!"

-doesn't plan it at all. in all honesty, it probably happens at the cafe rather than a party. it just got thrown in with all the other holiday decorations, so he hung it up without really thinking about it.

-if it happens during the workday, he's a little iffy on it, he'd like to mantain as much professionalism as he can ... buuut he might still give you a little peck before rushing off to work on the orders. if you're alone, then he's more than happy to linger a little longer.

-the type to hold the side of your face or your shoulder while kissing. he likes the stability of it and just thinks it's cute ...

scythe

"Well well- lookey here."

-she planned this. she's the reason the mistletoe is there. this was not fate this was a grand plot and you don't even know the start of it.

-oh come on- of course scythe of all people would be all over this! it's an easy way to show off your relationship (she's possessive, sue her) and to get a free kiss. there's no way she's gonna pass up an opportunity like this.

-she makes a big show of it, sorry. she loves to get under your skin and fluster you, so she's gonna spend her time getting closer and teasing you about you looking a little embarassed.

-the kiss itself is surprisingly chaste and sweet, she likes showing you off but she's got class, alright?

shuriken

"Well, I'm waaaiting ..."

-plans it. he spends a good part of the night herding you over there at least once but most likely twice. sue him for wanting to kiss his partner...

-he's not super used to the tradition, so it's still got that allure of something new to him. he's got a hyped up view of it, so he's pretty excited and it shows in how he's grinning like an idiot the moment he gets the chance.

-this isn't to say its gonna wear off to him though- it'll get normalized, sure, but he still looks forward to it every time. it's romantic! it's cute! let him live!

-annoyingly sneaky about it too- please don't act too surprised, you're only going to feed his ego

hyperlaser

"Negative."

-it's a hard no in public. no explanation needed he's not doing it. If you really wanna you can kiss his helmet, and honestly ......... he would think it's cute. it's a stupid tradition but you pull it off.

-if you do, he'll return the favor later (once you have less eyes on you) by leaning his head against yours. it's not a huge deal but it's a little way of him sort-of doing it back .. in spirit at least.

-in private ... ehhhh. he's still iffy on it. if you ask really nicely he might lift his helmet up just enough, but that's about it. it's just not super comfortable for him.

-not a pda guy but he'll hold your hand and keep you at his side. it's nothing special toan on looker but to him it's a show of love and care- if he didn't love you, he wouldn't bother holding you so close to him. he values his space and privacy, so know that him including you in it is a way of him showing your importance to him.

-

medkit

"Really?"

-doesn't plan it ; he thinks its silly. around people, it's gonna be a no, he's not super into PDA. if it's just the two of you ... you could convince him.

-he still thinks it's stupid, but he's willing to do stupid things if it means you're happy. a very chaste kisser but that doesn't take any of the sentiment out of it, he really does mean every little gesture of affection.

-he's going to hold your hand most likely, it's a little comfort to him- he's prone to squeezing your hand in a nonverbal 'i love you.'

-he'll be thinking about it everytime he sees mistletoe again for the next few days. it's driving him a little crazy he's coming home and staring at your lips a little bit while you guys tell eachother about your day. expect a few more kisses than normal

boombox

"(You wanna?)"

-the truest of neutrals. he thinks it's cute and he doesn't mind pda, but it's not something he sees as super important. he's very confident in your relationship and he's pretty affectionate already, so it's your call really

-it'll probably be just a quick peck, but that's only because he's probably kissed you a few times already and has haf an arm around you the whole night anyway

-really, it's just not necessary. you're already pissing everyone off with how sweet the two of you are you don't need the extra gesture.

subspace

"Ugh- Don't be ridiculous!"

-he's only going to realize if someone else walks him through it. he's not super familiar with all the traditions that go with the season, so a lot of them come off as pretty strange to him.

-if it's around other people, it's not happening, sorry. at most, he'll take you kissing the mask, but even then he might grumble a bit (he likes showing off, being vulnerable and recieving affection is a little different). nothing personal, he's just not taking it off around others.

-if it's just you two though ... then he can be swayed. he'll still think it's stupid and you're being strange but he signed up for that. he'll do it if only to see what all the fuss is about.

-'that's it?' and then he's doing it again the next time you ask. he is not immune.

vine staff

"Oh! Well, only if you'd like to..."

-she will not notice unless someone points it out to her. she's spent a lot of holiday seasons with shuriken and slingshot, so she just forgot this was apart of the holiday honestly. she's a lot more accustomed to the chaos than the sweeter little things (help her).

-while everyone would ask first, she's the most 'whatever' about it. It's a cute thing, don't get her wrong! she just doesn't feel the need to perform, for lack of a better term. she loves you and knows you love her, she doesn't really feel the need to show that off too much.

-if it was a smaller gathering, she'd be a little more into it, but if it's a bigger party she's happy to just talk to you about anything and everything under the mistletoe instead.

-very short and chaste but sweet all the same. she might grab and hold onto one of your hands, she usually won't let go afterwords either. smile

coil

"Aww- Did you plan this?"

-he doesn't set it up at first. the first time, he kinda forgot it was a thing- he's been busy! but once he realizes he's got a free 'kiss s/o' AND 'show s/o off' card, it's over. he's so smooth with it it's annoying. whether he meets you there so you have to stop below it or he casually leads you over while you're both talking, it might as well say gullible on the ceiling.

-like skate, he likes pulling you real close. he's a fan of physical affection, so you bet he's taking the chance to throw his arms around you. even afterwards, he'll keep an arm slung around you.

-he can't go to big parties, so he's usually just around skates gang, but he'll still take the opportunity to brag. he knows you're a catch, he knows you're sweet on him, how could he not be a little smug?

-if you pull a fast one on him and pull HIM under the mistletoe though, you can bet he's impressed. he'll be teasing you about it for a bit, but only because he thinks it's adorable.

[kathlare]

through the screen

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: As Lando relaxes with Max after a ski trip, a simple gaming stream turns into a heartfelt moment when he tunes in to watch Amelie on the premiere carpet for Wicked.

Wordcount: 1.0 k

Warnings: just fluff

December 21st, 2024 - London, United Kingdom

Lando plopped himself down on Max Fewtrell’s worn-in leather couch, a steaming mug of tea balanced precariously in his hand. His legs stretched out, brushing against Max’s coffee table, which was littered with empty soda cans, a half-eaten pizza, and one of Max’s hoodies.

—You could at least pretend to clean up when you’ve got company,—Lando teased, giving Max a pointed look.

—Mate, you’re not company, you practically live here,— Max shot back, settling down beside him with a bowl of crisps. —Besides, you’re just here to freeload my Wi-Fi and stream. Don’t act high and mighty.—

Lando rolled his eyes but grinned, sipping his tea. They’d just gotten back from his ski trip, and while it had been a blast, he was exhausted. Still, nothing sounded better than unwinding with Max and streaming a bit for the fans.

—Alright, let’s get this started,— Max said, booting up his PC and launching the streaming software. —You’re lucky I’m letting you hijack my setup.—

—Don’t pretend you don’t love it,— Lando replied, leaning over to adjust his camera. Within minutes, the stream was live, and the chat began exploding with messages.

—Alright, alright, calm down, chat. Yes, I’m back. Yes, I survived the ski trip,— Lando said, settling into his usual streaming energy. —Barely, though. Max here almost took me out with his shit skiing.—

—Oi! I was great,— Max interjected, shoving a handful of crisps into his mouth.

—Sure, mate. You were great at falling on your arse every five minutes,— Lando shot back, smirking.

The chat lit up with laughter emojis and comments, and Max pretended to glare at the screen.

—Right, let’s see what we’ve got lined up for today. Bit of gaming, maybe some Q&A. Keep it chill,— Max said, clicking through a few settings.

But as they got started, a notification popped up on Lando’s phone. He glanced at it, then froze, his eyes widening.

—Oh, shit,— he muttered.

—What?— Max asked, leaning over.

—The Wicked New York premiere is starting. Ames is probably on the carpet right now,— Lando said, his voice softening as he pulled up the livestream on his phone.

Max gave him a knowing look. —You want me to put it up on the big screen?—

—You read my mind,— Lando said, his grin spreading as Max switched the stream to the TV.

The chat exploded again.

“He’s so whipped.” “Lando’s about to start simping.” “Can’t blame him. Amelie is stunning.”

As the stream began showing the yellow carpet, Lando leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze glued to the screen. When Amelie appeared, her glittering gown catching the lights, he let out an audible breath.

—That’s my girl,— he said softly, almost to himself.

—Here we go,— Max teased, nudging him. —Full simp mode activated.—

—Shut up, mate. Look at her. She’s…— Lando trailed off, shaking his head with a smile that practically lit up the room. —She’s unreal. How is she real?—

The chat was going crazy, with fans spamming heart emojis and comments like:

“LAN IS WHIPPED.” “Couple goals, honestly.” “Protect this man at all costs.”

Max laughed, tossing a crisp at Lando. —You’re acting like you’ve never seen her before.—

—I haven’t seen her in person for a week, alright?— Lando said dramatically, leaning back against the couch. —And she’s been busy with this press tour and all these premieres. She looks amazing. She always does, but this… bloody hell.—

Max shook his head, laughing. —You’re unbelievable, mate. Absolutely gone for her.—

—Damn right I am,— Lando said proudly. He pointed at the screen as Amelie waved at the fans and posed for photos. —That’s my girlfriend. Mine. I still can’t believe it sometimes.—

—We know, mate. Trust me, we know,— Max said, grinning.

The chat, meanwhile, was eating it up.

“He’s literally glowing just talking about her.” “The way he’s staring at the screen tho 😭.” “Amelie better watch this later. He’s so proud.”

Lando leaned back, letting out a content sigh. —You know what’s funny? I don’t even care if the chat thinks I’m being dramatic. I miss her like crazy. I mean, it’s only been a week, but it feels like months.—

—You two were glued at the hip for a month straight before this, mate. What did you expect?— Max teased.

—Yeah, but it’s different now. We’ve got this rhythm, you know? We’re both busy, but we make it work. And when we’re together… it’s just easy. Feels like we’ve been doing this forever,— Lando said, his tone softening.

Max gave him a genuine smile. —You’ve got it bad, Lan. But it suits you.—

—Thanks, I think?— Lando replied, chuckling. He glanced at the chat and grinned. —Alright, chat. Say what you want, but I’ll never shut up about her. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.—

The chat lit up again, with messages like:

“He’s so in love, it’s insane.” “Amelie is one lucky woman, but honestly, so is Lando.” “We love a supportive boyfriend.”

As the stream continued, Lando and Max kept the premiere playing in the background. Every time Amelie appeared on screen, Lando would light up, pointing out little things like how she adjusted her dress or how she smiled at a fan.

—You’re going to see her tomorrow, aren’t you?— Max asked, trying to suppress a grin.

—Yeah, but not soon enough,— Lando said, running a hand through his hair. —And then we’re spending Christmas in Mexico with her family. Can’t bloody wait.—

—Better get ready for her brothers to give you shit,— Max said, laughing.

—I’ve survived worse. Besides, they like me now. Mostly,— Lando replied, smirking.

Max laughed, shaking his head. —You’re so whipped, mate. But honestly? Good for you.—

Lando just grinned, his eyes flicking back to the screen. —Yeah. Good for me.—

[leoisstillalive]

kiss me, hardy - valentino rossi/marc marquez, 608 words merry christmas to all who celebrate!!! here is a little fic i wrote while delirious from sleep deprivation, staying up until 2 am to prepare christmas lunch.

Valentino presses a kiss to Marc’s bandaged pinky finger, eyelids drawn shut like curtains- not avoiding eye contact but focusing his attention, trying to be tender. Maybe trying to help it heal, as if love is in league with the arcane.

Rather childishly, the warmth of the man’s lips brings great comfort and ease to the throbbing of Marc’s joints there- so perhaps there is something in it. The finger has been sprained a few too many times. How ridiculous to be a twenty-one year old with a pinky that will never quite close into a fist ever again.

He can live with it, though, if it means Valentino kisses it better every time he sees it. In fact, he can live with any wound if that’s the case. Perhaps he should try to break something larger next time- an ankle, a collarbone— a femur would be too far, especially when Valentino already kisses him there.

In the small of his hips, the soft flesh of his inner thighs, wiry stubble scuffing, tickling closer to his groin. He does it until Marc pleas for something substantial, something filling.

But today he is only kissing his fingers. He travels along the tips of them, pressing the pads to the groove of his lips, moving down to the palm knuckles, to the crest of Marc’s palm, to the base of his wrist- his pulse point. He leaves his mouth there for a long while, eyes still peacefully shut.

He echoes that Botticelli beauty he embodied in his youth, cheeks dusted pink to his ears, brows furrowed in thought, curls falling about his head- perhaps thinner, but no less persistent, still fighting their way out of every hat and helmet. Marc sometimes wants to tug those little hairs that tuft at the back of Vale’s neck, out the bottom of his racing hat, but he figures people would ask questions.

He can do it in the dark though- he can do anything in the dark. And he does.

With Vale breathing hot and sleepy on his hand, face buried in the groove of it, Marc lets his other rest on that hair, knits his digits through. 

Valentino kisses him until he whines, until he starts to scratch at the man’s scalp impatiently. 

“Does it still hurt?” Valentino coos, parting his eyelids at long, long last, voice mumbling into Marc’s palm.

Marc peers down at where Vale is splayed on his bare chest, body hidden under the blanket but so clear in Marc’s mind, every naked inch committed to memory.

He nods with big, brown eyes. It never crosses his mind to lie, “Aches. Feels better when you kiss it.”

He wiggles it for emphasis against the groove beside Vale’s nose. It earns him a laugh- a slow, easy, rolling laugh that sounds honest and knowing and like he could live here forever with Marc, and it knots Marc’s stomach together with deft hands. He is so good at that- at keeping Marc entranced. Always waiting, hanging on for another breath, another laugh, another kiss.

“You think?” Valentino lifts his head from Marc’s chest, hangs four long, slender fingers and a thumb from the man’s wrist to hold it still while he recommences his pecks.

Marc hums, “For sure,” smiles small and in-love. So, very in-love.

And to be in love is to be devastated. Love could be a war zone, could be an active volcano, could be the furthest point North, and you’re in it. And sometimes you’re alone, facing the lashing winds on your own- doomed to solitude- though Marc had never been.

His first love was Honda, and they have always returned this, been through it all with him- right in the thick of love. Hacking at hedgerows and sharing in victory. 

And Valentino loves him, he does. This, Marc knows.

[gachagon]

@ Your analysis about how the P:EG cast is full of hypocrites:

Another huge contrast I thought of between them and the casts of the Danganronpa games is that with the DR casts I could see certain scenarios where all of them make it out alive. But with the Eden's Garden gang it feels like a murder was bound to happen.

And a big part of that in my mind is because the majority of murders in Danganronpa are due to the characters being manipulated by Monokuma & the Masterminds. Even Korekiyo who didn't even kill for the Necronomicon motive was still manipulated by Team Danganronpa into being a serial killer.

With the first case of Eden's Garden though that isn't the case. The motive didn't even factor into the case other than Eva stealing the taser gun from Desmond's room. Yeah Eva was on a time crunch because of the Traitor Perk but she was already planning to commit murder beforehand due to being worried that someone will kill her. The perk just made her quicker to put her plan into motion.

Honestly if one of the students had tried to say that "the one to blame for Wolfgang and Eva's deaths is Tozu" like what's usually done after executions in Danganronpa I feel like Tozu would have an actual leg to stand on unlike Monokuma.

He didn't start anything, he was merely fanning the flames that the students started.

I agree with this too because even though the rest of the class didn't take Eva seriously, when she was ranting about how "Any of you would've done what I did!" I kind of believed her. They're already so distrusting of one another, and them pretending that everything's okay while holding onto this serious distrust amongst each other is just fueling the Killing Game. If Tozu had left the puzzle for Desmond and it was a bullseye or something, would Desmond had shown anyone as well? If it was some special law puzzle that only Wolfgang could decipher, would he have shared it with the rest of the class?

I truly don't think so. I also noticed they blamed Eva for a lot of Tozu's actions, like when Tozu introduced the motive, Grace said "So we're in this mess because of the math girl? Typical..." because Tozu said he became inspired by Eva's outburst in the pharmacy over the watches.

But it's NOT Eva's fault, she's not the mastermind after all, she's in the same boat as them. But they still put the blame on her instead of being mad at Tozu for spying on all of them. I think the motive itself not factoring into the murder is a good plot point in the story, because you at first think that someone will kill to keep their secret hidden. Or maybe someone has a terrible secret that they don't even want another person knowing about.

I remember hearing that this is the type of Danganronpa where only 2 survivors will make it out, and usually that's not the case but I can definitely see it happening with this group. They're not killing each other or hating each other over the motives the Headmaster gives, it's because of how they treat one another instead T_T

[kotegiris]

[Card Story - Boschi] Way of Resistance

thanks to a friend of mine for sharing this card story with me!

Chapters 1 & 2

Chapter 1

※ Warning: This butler story contains spoilers for the event story “The Herald of Dawn”.

It is recommended to read up to chapter 9 of the event story before reading this.

For lords who are avoiding spoilers, please hit the button in the upper left corner to return.

………

At the request of the Grovaner family, we came to Slick.

The request was to find a man named Leo Force and dismantle the mafia.

A variety of circumstances led to us taking down a different mafia group… And now we are waiting for contact from Leo and his group.

But in the midst of that… Boschi and I were facing a crisis.

Mafia Men: Hehe, to think that we’d find you so soon.

Mafia Men: A new mafia group that crushed that large group… We have to strike before it’s too late, don’t we?

Mafia Men: That’s right. I’ll be taking the head of your boss right here and now.

Boschi stood protectively in front of me and confronted the men face-to-face.

Boschi: (Damn it… So they’re after Aruji-sama.)

Boschi: (I won’t lose even if I’m outnumbered, but…)

Boschi: (I don’t want to take any risks when it comes to Aruji-sama’s safety.)

Boschi: (I’ll have to watch their movements and be careful when attacking…)

Mafia Men: Hey now, don’t tell me… Are you getting scared?

Mafia Men: Then, don’t mind if we make the first move!

Boschi: Tch…!

Weapons in hand, the men sprung at Boschi.

Using his sword, Boschi knocked out countless of them.

Boschi: Come at me!

Thud

Mafia Men: Urgg…! This guy’s ridiculously strong…!

Mafia Men: Don’t let your guard down! We’ll beat him through numbers!

Boschi: (Tch… They’re weak, but there’s a lot of them…)

Boschi: (Since we’re fighting in an open space, it’s a big area I have to keep an eye on… One misstep will be dangerous…!)

Mafia Men: Bastard… Just drop dead!

Boschi: That’s my line!

Thud

Mafia Men: Ugaah…!

Boschi: (Damn it, they just keep on coming like cockroaches… How many of them are there…!?)

While being protected and hiding behind Boschi’s back… Someone suddenly pulled my arm.

> Wha…?

Mafia Men: Hahaha! Your boss’s head is mine!

Boschi: …!? Aruji-sama!!

In the next moment, the man that pulled my arm… Was struck in the wrist with a scabbard by Boschi.

Then, just as the man released my arm… Boschi kicked the man, and his body hit the ground.

Boschi: Hah… hah…

Boschi: Looks like he was the last of them…

Boschi: My bad… I wasn’t paying attention.

> Boschi, are you okay?

Boschi: Huh? That’s my line.

Boschi: Are you okay, Boss? Did he leave any marks where he grabbed you?

> I’m alright.

Boschi: Good… But it must have been scary, right?

Boschi: Let’s head back for the day. They’re knocked out, but who knows when they’ll wake up.

> G-Got it.

And so we safely got through the crisis and returned to the hotel.

【Slick - Hotel】

Afterwards we arrived at the hotel with no issues.

But rather than looking relieved… Boschi had a slightly serious expression.

Boschi: ……

> Boschi, what’s wrong?

Boschi: Oh… I was just thinking about the attack from earlier.

Boschi: I turned my attention away from you even if it was just for a moment… I’m reflecting on that.

> But you still protected me.

Boschi: …Yeah.

Boschi: But… It doesn’t change the fact that your arm was grabbed.

Boschi: I’m thinking about how careless I was.

Boschi: The fact that something like that happened today… Maybe it’s time to take a different approach.

Boschi: Fighting isn’t the only thing I can do to protect you.

Boschi: For your sake… I’ll do everything I can…

Boschi mumbled as if he was speaking to himself.

Boschi: Anyways… Today must have been rough for you, Aruji-sama.

Boschi: I’ll take you to your room, so get some rest.

Boschi: I’ll let the other butlers know about today's attack.

> Okay.

【Hotel - Bedroom】

-That night-

Knock, knock…

Boschi: Aruji-sama. Can I come in?

> Come in. > It’s open.

Opens

Boschi: Evening, Aruji-sama.

Boschi: It’s been a few hours since the attack earlier today, but… How’s your arm?

> It’s alright.

Boschi: I see… I’m glad.

Boschi: But just to be on the safe side, could you show it to me?

> Yeah.

I rolled up my sleeve and showed it to him.

There weren’t really any marks from where the man grabbed me.

Boschi: …At least it doesn’t seem injured. For now, I can relax.

Boschi: If he left marks on your arm… I’d probably get revenge on them.

> D-Don’t do that.

Boschi: Yeah, I know. I wouldn’t go out of my way to make contact with the guys who attacked us.

While saying that, Boschi rolled my sleeve back down… And gently massaged my arm over the fabric of my sleeve.

Then… He casted his eyes slightly downwards and mumbled something as if he made up his mind.

Boschi: I want to say that there’s no need for you to have a weapon, but…

Boschi: This too… Is to protect the kind you.

> Huh?

Boschi gently put my arm down and… Taking something out from his breast pocket, he set it on the table.

It had a dull shine to it, but it was unmistakably a knife.

Boschi: Aruji-sama, you might still be feeling shaken from the attack earlier, but…

Boschi: I’m gonna teach you some self-defense now.

Boschi: I’ll do anything to keep you safe.

Boschi: …That’s what I’ve decided.

Boschi’s eyes were sharp as he said this to me.

On the desk, the sharp knife’s blade glinted.

Chapter 2

The knife on the table dully glinted.

Boschi said he’d teach me self-defense.

I wondered if he planned on having me attack our enemies with a blade.

As I nervously stared at the knife… With a serious expression, Boschi opened his mouth.

Boschi: …Don’t worry, it’s not a real knife.

Boschi: Of course, maybe in the future… I’ll have you carry around a real knife.

I made no moves to pick up the knife, but Boschi continued speaking.

Boschi: …The other butlers might never tell you something like this, but… I’m not like them.

Boschi: I… I want you to have the strength to protect yourself.

Boschi: Of course, like we’ve always done… We’ll keep protecting you even at the cost of our lives.

Boschi: But just in case… There’s no harm in you learning how to fight.

Boschi: Being on the offense isn’t the best way to defend yourself, but… Maybe one day it’ll help save you.

Boschi: That’s why I prepared this fake knife.

Boschi: Teaching you how to use a knife… This is all to protect you.

> Boschi…

I knew that Boschi was being serious, but… I still couldn’t bring myself to reach for the knife.

I’m sure he intended on teaching me hands on how to use a blade.

If he teaches me how… Maybe the day when I’ll hurt someone will eventually come…

That frightened me.

Boschi: …… I know you're hesitant.

Boschi: But let me say this.

Boschi: Learning how to use a blade… Is also a way of protecting all the butlers.

> Protecting everyone…?

Boschi: Yeah.

Boschi: If we were being attacked by enemies…

Boschi: The butlers would definitely focus on you.

Boschi: Which means that… Our attention is turned away from the enemy in front of us.

Boschi: The chances of them taking advantage of that split second isn’t zero.

Boschi: Even if there’s only a one in a million chance of us losing to a human… I can’t say that it’ll never happen.

Boschi: So if you learn how to fight… You could end up saving our lives one day.

> Saving everyone…

I looked at the knife lying on the table once more.

The dull glint still scared me a little, but… If I picked it up, could I protect the butlers?

While I cautiously stared at the knife, Boschi quietly called out to me.

Boschi: Aruji-sama, I hope you’re not misunderstanding, but…

Boschi: When I said, “You could end up saving our lives”... I wasn’t trying to scare you into taking the knife.

Boschi: By taking the knife, you can protect us. I just wanted to give you that option.

Boschi: But if… If you’re really scared of taking it, it’s okay to say no.

Boschi: If it becomes a burden to you, then… It’s better not to take it.

Boschi: You’re gentle, so teaching you how to use a weapon is… Even I know that’s asking for a lot.

Boschi: If it becomes a burden, then… I’ll find a different way that suits you more.

To the me who was hesitating to take the knife, he gave me a way to back out.

It was unmistakably because of his kind consideration for me.

For the kind him and the other butlers… I want to protect them.

With those thoughts, I picked up the knife.

> Teach me how to use it, Boschi

Boschi: Aruji-sama… Are you really okay with this?

> Everyone’s important to me. I want to protect everyone.

Boschi: I see… Thanks for being brave.

Boschi: I’m guessing your motivation comes from… This being a way to protect us, huh?

Boschi: You really do care about us.

> Of course I do.

Boschi: Ha, that was a quick response.

You seem eager enough.

Boschi: Then, Aruji-sama… Let’s start your self-defense training.

Boschi: Today I’ll teach you the important basics. Make sure your head and body remember them.

> G-Got it!

And so, my self-defense training by Boschi began.

-A little later-

After that, Boschi earnestly taught me.

Boschi: So… That’s what you should do if your wrist is grabbed.

Boschi: Alright, Aruji-sama… Let’s try practicing now.

> Yeah!

Boschi quickly grabbed my hand, and I shook him off with minimal effort.

Thanks to him being a good teacher… I became able to do it reflexively.

> How’s that?

Boschi: You’re doing well. You’ve been able to do everything I’ve said.

Boschi: Next… Let’s try putting it to practical use.

> Practical use?

Boschi: Yeah. I’m gonna teach you a judo technique for restraining someone.

Boschi: It’s a bit difficult, but… If you do it right, it’ll stop your opponent from moving.

Boschi: First, I’ll show you how effective it is… I’ll do it on you.

Boschi: And using the knife you have… Try your best to break free.

Boschi: By doing this, you’ll also learn how your opponent will react to this technique.

> I’ll do my best.

Boschi: Nice response. Alright, let’s get started.

Boschi: Hold their left arm like this and tighten your hold…

Boschi: …Here!

The moment he said that… My body was completely stopped by Boschi.

I immediately tried to shake him off… But I was no match for his strength.

Realizing that I couldn’t do anything… He finally released his hold.

> (I-It’s finally over…)

But then… Before I knew it, I was lying on my back.

> Huh…?

I could see the ceiling behind Boschi… Who was hovering over me.

I finally realized that… He had pushed me onto the bed.

Boschi: Geez… You were distracted, Aruji-sama.

Boschi: If you don’t pay attention, you’ll be cornered like this.

> U-Uhm…

While still pinning me down, his sharp eyes looked at me.

Boschi: So, what will you do now? Do your best to resist.

Although I was overwhelmed by this situation… I managed to pull my knife out from my breast pocket.

But I was hesitant to point the blade at him and couldn’t move fast enough.

I only hesitated for a moment, but Boschi didn’t miss it. He snatched my knife away and threw it on the floor.

> Ah…

Boschi: Now even your weapon is useless, but… You won’t just give up like this, will you?

Boschi: Come on… Let me see you struggle ‘til the end.

Saying this, he tightened his hold on me.

I knew that everything, his actions and words, was all for the sake of protecting me, but…

Being conscious of how we were closer than usual filled me with a different kind of nervousness.

> (H-He’s so close…!?)

Boschi: ……!

He must have noticed that I was acting strange…

He helped me sit up on the bed.

My face was still red, and I said nothing. Boschi stared at me with an apologetic look.

Boschi: …My bad, Aruji-sama.

Boschi: Even if it was training to protect you… I was too aggressive.

Boschi: And more importantly… I scared you.

Boschi: …I’m sorry.

> Boschi…

He looked somewhat frustrated apologizing to me.

Could it be that… He was angry with himself for scaring me?

When he was pinning me down… I felt shy, but not scared.

Boschi’s actions and words… I knew that he was doing it all to protect me.

I wanted to tell him that. I softly called out to him.

> I wasn’t scared.

Boschi: Aruji-sama…?

I wanted to tell him everything that I was feeling.

That I wasn’t scared, just shy…

I needed to muster the courage to say it out loud, but… No matter what, I wanted to tell him since he’s always so earnest when it comes to me.

> I wasn’t scared.

Boschi: Aruji-sama…

> And…

I didn’t want to point a knife at him… Even if I knew it was a fake one.

I didn’t want to direct a weapon at someone dear to me… When I told him this, his eyes became wide as if he was surprised.

Then… He gently smiled while gazing at me.

Boschi: Phew… So that’s what you were thinking.

> I’m not lying.

Boschi: Yeah, I know.

Boschi: I also know how much you care for me…

Boschi: …Thank you, Aruji-sama.

While saying that, Boschi began to gently stroke my head.

> B-Boschi…?

Seeing me confused… Boschi happily smiled as if to clear up the serious atmosphere.

Boschi: What is it, Aruji-sama? You can resist if you don’t like it, you know?

Boschi: I just taught you a technique to do so after all.

Boschi’s smile as he said this was mischievous, but… His hands felt gentle.

It was a bit embarrassing letting him stroke my head, but it felt very nice… I didn’t want to shake off his hand.

END