#Yes even Jack Fireplace

[cannibalindsm]

There is a Vocaloid song that fits every Kazeki character, and if there is not one, then I will make one

[hischierswhore]

oh, christmas tree (j. hughes)

a note from nat: im gonna be living thru these fics vicariously bc my love life is actually nonexistent.

content warnings: none! its just some cute christmas themed fluff :)

The plan was simple: decorate the tree, sip some hot cocoa, and enjoy a cozy evening. That was the plan.

But plans change, especially when Christmas is involved.

"Okay wait, I thought this was just a tree thing," Jack said, standing in the middle of the living room that was now filled with at least 3 bins of glittering Christmas decor. His arms were crossed, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "When did it turn into a whole-apartment thing?"

You paused mid-step, holding a wreath in one hand and a string of tiny jingle bells in the other. "It was just the tree, but then I remembered that I had all this stuff in storage. I found this wreath, and I bought us some stockings because the fireplace looked empty… but look how festive it is now!"

Jack sighed, though the corners of his lips quirked up. "Festive is one word for it. Overboard might be another."

"Overboard?" You gasped, placing a hand over your chest in mock offense. "There’s no such thing as overboard when it comes to Christmas!"

"Right," he said, watching as you enthusiastically tacked the wreath onto the front door of your shared apartment. "And what’s the deal with the tiny Christmas village on the coffee table? Are we supposed to live around it now?"

"It’s charming, Jack," You said, stepping back to admire your handiwork. "And you can’t tell me it doesn’t look adorable."

He walked over, crouching to inspect the little ceramic houses. "Adorable, yes. Practical? No. Where am I supposed to put my coffee?"

You waved a hand dismissively. "Who needs coffee when you have holiday spirit? Plus coffee’s out; hot cocoa & eggnog are sooooo in."

Jack burst out laughing and straightened, shaking his head. "You’re unbelievable."

"And you love me for it," You shot back, grabbing a roll of ribbon and heading toward the kitchen.

"Wait—what are you doing now?" He called after you, following close behind.

You spun around, brandishing the ribbon like a knight unsheathing a sword. "Adding bows to the cabinet handles, obviously."

"You’re unstoppable," He said, a mix of exasperation and admiration in his tone.

You grinned up at him. "It’s Christmas magic, Jack. Just let it happen."

For the next hour, Jack watched in amusement (and occasionally helped, when you gave him the puppy-dog eyes) as you transformed the apartment into a winter wonderland. The windows were framed with twinkling lights, the dining table centerpiece was swapped for a cluster of glittery pinecones, and even the bathroom didn’t escape unscathed—a tiny Santa figurine now perched on the counter.

By the time you hung the final sprig of mistletoe in the hallway, you turned to find Jack leaning against the wall, arms folded, a soft smile on his face.

"What?" You asked, placing my hands on my hips.

"Nothing," He said, pushing off the wall and walking over. "Just... you’re kind of ridiculous, you know that?"

"Ridiculously festive," You corrected.

"Yeah, that too," He said, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. "But I like it."

You tilted your head, grinning up at him. "Just like?"

"Okay, fine," He said with a chuckle, leaning down so your foreheads touched. "I love it. And I love you, even if you’ve turned this place into the North Pole."

You laughed, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. "Merry Christmas, Jack."

"Merry Christmas," He said, glancing up at the mistletoe above you. "Now, I’m pretty sure there are rules about what we’re supposed to do under this thing."

And as he kissed you, with the apartment glowing like a Christmas card come to life, you couldn’t help but think that maybe going a little Christmas crazy wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

if you want to be added to the ficmas taglist, please let me know!

[hotchshands]

for my cocktober request is that Hotch has a breeding kink with fem/afab!reader please 🥺🥺

Thanks for the request! Since it's cocktober, I decided to make this vamp!hotch simply because I can. Enjoy!

Note: This is extremely NSFW! You have been warned! Oh, and you can find all kinktober/cocktober requests here.

The cracking of the fireplace and the rain outside the castle are the only things you hear as you curl up next to Aaron on the sofa. You were reading a book as he stroked your hair, lost in thought.

"We should have a baby," Aaron says, breaking the silence.

You close your book and look up at him, "A baby?" You're not sure where he got the idea from and why now. After losing Jack all those years ago, you figured he would never want another child. Could we even have a child? Aaron had Jack back when he was a human, but he had been a vampire for the last hundred years.

He meets your gaze and continues stroking your hair, "Yes, my love. A baby."

"Is that even possible?" I ask, pointing out that he was a vampire and I a human.

Aaron seemed unfazed by the question, slightly chuckling, "You think I'm going to let that stop me? Stop us?" His eyes darkened as he stared into yours, looking for the green light. You didn't give it to him, and you were too concerned with the mechanics of the matter. Would our baby be a vampire? Would I survive giving birth to one?

Aaron noticed your concern and kissed your head. "Y/N, I would never let anything hurt you, much less suggest hurting you. I love you, and I want us to have a family. I'm ready now."

You curl further into his body, knowing that you are loved by him. If you were being honest with yourself, a baby sounded nice. You always wanted a family with Aaron, but you never thought it was possible. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to try? You drew circles on his chest as you spoke, "Okay."

"Okay?" he asks, hoping he heard you correctly.

"Okay," you say, looking up at him. With that, Aaron pulls you into a kiss, washing away all your worries. He always had the power to put you at ease with just a kiss.

He moved so that he was above your small frame, never breaking the kiss. The rain continued to pour outside, putting you further at ease as you let Aaron worship you. He was quick to remove your nightgown, leaving you bare underneath him. "You are breathtaking, my love," he whispers against your lips. You smile into his mouth as you run your hands down his back before pulling at the fabric of his shirt. He pulled away to remove it upon your request. His now bare chest glistened in the light of the fireplace.

You trace every inch of exposed skin as if it were your first time seeing him like this. He looked heavenly despite being a monster—To you, it didn't matter that he was a vampire because you loved him, and he loved you. The two of you continued to kiss on the sofa, the fireplace warming your bare bodies.

It didn't take long til Aaron moved his lips down every inch of exposed skin. Starting with your neck, leaving a few marks in all your favorite places. Then, down your chest, kissing each breast while holding your hips in place, ensuring you don't squirm away from his mouth.

Your back arched the further he went. When he reached your center, you were already wet. He lapped at you with his tongue, causing you to moan out his name, "Aaron." In response, he smiled into your core, inserting his tongue inside you. Your body felt like it was burning up from his touch, but he had no intentions of letting you cool down.

He continued to eat you out, tightening his grip on your hips as he did. Your back arched further into his touch, and your hands moved to grab onto his hair, which felt soft and gentle compared to the rough movements of Aaron's tongue.

Aaron pulled away from your aching vagina for a minute to admire how hot and bothered you were by his touch, "You're practically begging for me already, love. You're that desperate for a baby?"

You looked into his dark brown eyes. They were almost black in the glow of the dark castle. "Yes," you said. All your previous doubts now washed away thanks to his tongue.

"You'll get what you wish for shortly, my love. Be patient for me, darling," Aaron said before returning his mouth to your wetness. He circled his tongue around all of you, soaking up your juices and pushing them back inside. His left-hand moves down your thigh, spreading your legs apart so he has a clear view of your pussy.

That exact hand inches closer to meet Aaron's mouth at your core. His fingers trace the inside of your thigh before tracing your labia. Those dark eyes never leave yours as he inserts a finger inside, testing the waters. His finger goes in with ease.

Aaron gives your hole a kiss before leaving it to kiss your clit. His finger remains inside you, moving about in ways that almost make you cum from just the single digit. Aaron notices this, of course, and attempts to insert a second finger inside. You wince at the stretch.

"Just relax, Y/N. That's it, good girl," Aaron said, as his fingers filled you up. His lips never leave your clit as he thrusts his fingers into your tight hole. You moan loudly, drowning out the silence of the vampire's castle. Your hands hold Aaron's hair like a vice as he continues his work on your throbbing core.

As soon as you are about to orgasm, Aaron pulls away, removing his fingers and mouth from you. You whine at the emptiness, causing Aaron to tsk. "What did I say about patience, my love? I was just starting, but I guess we can stop here," Aaron said.

You panic at his words, using his pants to pull him closer to your body. "No, please don't stop. I wanna have your baby. Please! Give me a baby," you beg.

Aaron crashed his lips onto yours, making quick work of his pants as he devoured your mouth. Once he was nude, he pulled away from your lips, taking a moment to catch his breath. You opened your eyes once he moved away and observed the lower half of his body. His cock stood proudly on display, ready to give you what you both desperately craved.

You reached out your hands to touch him, resting them on his hips before getting the courage to feel his cock. Aaron was too busy trying to catch his breath, not noticing your hands until he felt them on his hard length. His eyes widened, and a smirk appeared on his face, "You're that desperate for it, huh? Couldn't just wait like a nice girl."

You shake your head innocently despite how not innocently you were toying with him. Aaron moaned when you cupped his balls. You leaned in forward to kiss the tip of his cock before opening your mouth around it, coating him in your salvia. He grabbed a fist full of hair and yanked you away from his length, "You continue that, and I'm gonna empty myself on your face. We wouldn't want that now, do we? No, not when we're trying to make a baby."

Aaron didn't wait for a response. He pushed you down on the sofa and forcefully spread his legs before deciding the couch was not nearly big enough for what he wanted to do to you. "Get up," he demanded.

You exited the couch and stood next to it, fully exposed.

Aaron grabbed the blanket hanging on the back of the sofa and laid it in front of the fireplace. "Lay down and spread your legs for me," he said, waiting for you to follow his instructions. You did just that, eager to make his wish of a child come true. He looked you over before placing himself in between your legs.

Aaron grabbed his cock and lined it up to your hole, not bothering to look at you as he did. He was entirely forced on the task at hand. Once it was lined up, he began to insert it inside you. His hand left his length to hold your legs apart, making the insertion easier. Inch by inch, you felt like you were gonna explode. The girth made it hurt a little, but you were too horny to care, allowing his entire length inside.

Once he was fully in, Aaron began thrusting into you hard. You screamed in pleasure as he did. His cock was the perfect length for you, reaching all the right places to get you off.

"That's it, my love. I'm gonna make to beg for my cum," Aaron teased, moving his hand to pin yours down on the floor.

The fireplace and the rain roared violently as Aaron fucked you.

You started to close your eyes, but Aaron wouldn't let you. "Uh uh uh, I don't think so, darling. Look at me," he growled, forcing your head forward with his hand.

With a particular rough trust, he bites down on your neck. "God, I can't wait to see what you'll look like carrying my baby. Gonna look so beautiful, love," he spoke through his teeth against your neck.

You and Aaron moaned out over the lewd sounds of your parts coming together. He continued to bite down on your neck, leaving bruises and tiny trails of blood.

"Are you ready to become a mother, my love?" Aaron asked, looking into your eyes. The two of you were close.

You nod aggressively, "Yes. Please, Aaron, fill me up with your cum."

He growled at that, sinking his teeth into your neck as he finished inside you. He digs his nails into your hips, locking you flush against his body as he does. You finish with him, letting out a terrifyingly loud scream as you do. Blood rushes down your neck from his bite and throughout your body as you orgasm.

Aaron removes his teeth from your neck, licking up the blood before admiring his handy work. "God, you have never looked better, my love," he said, smoothing your hair.

His eyes move down to when you two are connected. He notices some of his cum has escaped your hole, "We don't want this to go to waste, do we?" he smiles.

Aaron slides his cock out and collects whatever cum escaped your hole before pushing it back inside with his cock. "There. Much better," he said, holding your body dangerously close to his. You let out a sigh of relief at the reentrance of his cock, wanting to stay linked together forever, or at least until one of you gets sore.

Your head spins as you come down from your high. Aaron is aware of the effect a vampire bite has on humans, so he holds you close in hopes of calming you down. It wasn't the first time he had bitten you, and it won't be the last, but it was the first time it felt that intense. The two of you stayed on the floor before the fireplace, eventually falling asleep in each other's arms.

Taglist: @princessjax @chicken-fifi @zaddyhotch @lovelyy-moonlight @uselessnewt @snapessecretdiary @spencerreidsshoelaces @targaryenswhxre

[galaxymacbeth]

Stables

cw: background ghoap, mentions of animal abuse & death.

The library could hardly categorize itself as one. It was more of a war room with books lining the walls. A large table sat in the middle, covered in various papers and maps she had no care for. She had found old texts on the shelves, written almost a century or more ago. John’s, she assumed. There was a large chair set beside the fireplace and that was where she sat herself.

The room had supplied her with a warm cup of tea halfway through the third page; hearing her smack her lips together. Pet had barely registered that she’d thanked the fortress for it.

It was there that Kyle found her.

His knuckles rapped against the open door. She jumped, but set the book aside with a small smile. His regular jack was present, but hammers were nowhere to be found. His eyes were soft, yet glittered with something she couldn’t parse out.

“Sir—Kyle?”

Kyle physically swooned. A hand pressed to his heart, the other swiping at his brow. She bit back a giggle.

“Did Captain tell you that?” He moved a chair from the table and sat in front of her.

“Y-yes, is that okay?,” her head bobbed at him, though he couldn’t discern between a nod or fear, “I—I can call you Gaz if—”

Kyle laughed, “it’s perfect, dove.”

Her smile widened and she nodded.

“Anything good? I think...” Gaz picked up the book she’d been reading, “these are all John’s.”

“Well, I have...I’m not well read, so not much makes sense.” She wrapped a hand around her teacup.

“Matters that y’trying.” Kyle shrugged. “Not like any of us use the room. Think John keeps ‘em cause he likes being the smartest.”

“I can’t imagine you aren’t also smart,” she mumbled, “isn’t Soap well versed in alchemy?”

Kyle huffed, a floppy grin on his face, “what do you know about me?”

Dove’s mouth opened a fraction, “you’re a riot god. But,” she lifted her head, “I think you’re rather gentle to me.”

“Course, dove, would hurt too much to be anything but kind to you.”

She felt her cheeks warm with Kyle’s grin. Sipping at her tea, he chuckled.

“Have you seen the horses, yet?”

That drew her attention. Dove sat up straight and shook her head vigorously.

“There’re horses?”

“’Course, dove. C’mon, I’ll show you.” Kyle took her hand, pulling her out of the chair and out of the library.

“Kyle, slow down!” Her voice flitted through the air, bouncing against the stone. Dove considered to herself if inhuman speed was Kyle’s gift of godhood. The image of his face flashing in front of her, dripping in blood clouded her mind until he spoke.

“Sorry, love. I should be take the time to get to know you,” he chuckled to himself, “since John already got to you.”

“Was he…not supposed to,” she asked while falling into step with him.

“Not that so much. We’re a jealous bunch. Don’t like the idea that he gets more of your time,” Kyle slipped his hand in hers.

It was warm, even in a way he’d never felt before. Sure, Johnny, Simon, and even John kept him warm some nights but she radiated heat. He could almost mistake it for love if he was naive enough.

Their Dove didn’t know them yet. Didn’t understand who they were. She would come to—one day—and love them for it. But for now, Kyle would show her horses.

Kyle Garrick was many things. Skilled with hammers and mauls. Aggressive when necessary, gentle in peace. He was a warrior who had found himself on the wrong side of John Price’s dagger a few too many times for his liking. But he wasn’t unassailable. His Dove had somehow managed to surprise him, throw him off kilter with a simple, inane question.

“Do you have a favourite sweet?”

“Sweet?” She nodded. “You want to know…”

“I-it’s fine if you don’t have one. I just wondered, is all,” Dove floundered, holding a hand up at him. Surrendering. No. Kyle couldn’t have that.

“Partial to a good fruit tart myself,” he said, “what’s yours?”

Her face warmed again and she turned to continue walking, “sweetrolls. My mother would make them on the God’s—your—birthdays.”

“We do look forward to them,” he hummed they walked. They had almost made it down the stairs when she froze, tugging on his hand.

“Dove?”

“You…look forward to them?”

Her eyes watered, stung, and her shoulders slumped. Kyle dropped down a step to look into her eyes.

“We receive all the offerings. And if what you say is true, your mother is the only one who ever gives us sweets. Even on our birthdays.” He spoke softly, taking both her hands in his. A tear slipped down her cheek. Kyle’s thumb swept it away. Dove could faintly remember the feeling of Elder Asmo doing the same but Kyle’s was gentle, sweet. Meant to soothe—not provoke.

“Dove, come back to me.”

“You are nothing like the God I thought you to be,” she choked out.

“We must be warriors but we are men. I had three sisters. I loved them dearly before I left. War is bloody but those left in its wake do not deserve it. I will never, ever, be cruel to you. Do you understand, Dove?”

She nodded, smothering her tears in Kyle’s palm.

“Good. Doves don’t need anger, they need love. Now, let’s go meet the herd.”

Soft nickers met her ears, urging her feet on. Kyle smiled as he let go of her hand. The stables were no more opulent than the rest of the fortress, but the horses did live in relative luxury. It was sizeable, and sat in a U around the central yard. Behind the building was the horses pasture, where they could wander to whenever they felt like it.

Some horses came in from the pasture, while the rest merely neighed from outside. Intelligent creatures they were, they knew she would make her way out eventually.

“Do they have names?” Dove smoothed her hand down a dapple grey courser’s face. His mane was almost too long and Kyle made a note to trim it later.

“On the doors.”

She leaned back before cooing at the horse, “Mr. Pepper, hm? So handsome.” He pushed his nose into her chest and she laughed. “I had no idea there were horses here.”

“’Course, love. What else would we ride into battle?” Kyle laughed. But Dove whipped around, her eyebrows pinched together. “No. No, I’m joking. We—they’re victims of war. Killed in battles.” He pressed a hand to her shoulders. “We had almost two hundred once, but Rudy helped us release them. There’s only about fifteen now.”

He rubbed up her back, smoothing wrinkles from her sitting still for so long in the library. She sighed, leaning into his touch.

“We each have one that we had from before,” Kyle let out a shrill whistle and a huff came from the pasture. He moved his hands to her shoulders, squeezing, and pulled her into his chest.

Finally, a heavy horse stepped into a stall on the back wall. Kyle walked her towards the destrier. It was stocky, with a pale yellow coat. A white mane shook as it surveyed the new person in front of Kyle.

“This is Roach. I liberated him from the royal stables.” Kyle reached over her to pet his nose.

“A horse thief?”

Kyle laughed, shaking her frame with it, “Dove, I’m more than a simple horse thief.”

She bit back a smile as Roach pushed his nose into her hand.

“John’s is over here,” Kyle slipped a hand to her neck, pulling her to a white mare. The mare stood tall, regal. An matching white mane was braided back. “Her name is Lili. We never could get it out of him why.”

Dove stepped towards her, but Lili stepped back. Both huffed at each other.

“Not a very friendly one, Lili. But oh, here’s Blue and Strider. Johnny and Simon’s.”

A blue roan destrier stepped in beside Lili, with a black and white piebald in the stall down.

“Do they always come so quickly when you’re here?”

“Gods no,” Kyle snorted, “but they do all have a connection to the others. They can probably feel you.”

Blue stretched his head over the stall door towards Dove. Kyle let go and she wandered towards the pair.

“Do they…how often do you take them into battle,” she murmured as she twisted her fingers into Strider’s mane. He huffed and lowered his head to give her more access to it.

“Never. They’ve seen enough war. We are Gods of it. They are innocent animals. They never harmed anyone.” Gaz held a treat out to Blue. “We took them because it was fair. And Makarov only wants souls he can torture.”

Dove glanced at him but turned to face Strider fully. His face was mostly black, though two circles surrounded his eyes. She couldn’t help but think it was too similar to the mask Simon wore.

“Please feel free to visit them whenever you’d like. I’m sure they would all love it.”

Blue nudged Dove and bit at her hand, earning a laugh.

Kyle leaned against an empty stall. She had yet to touch his dress since her first night. But he was content simply existing around her. His eyes raked over her form. He had some shame for staring at her on the first day he’d ever met her. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. All for him them.

“Kyle?”

He swallowed hard, dragging his eyes away from her curves to look into her eyes.

“Dove?”

She huffed, “you all call me something different.”

“Johnny’s Northern — nothing can be done about him callin’ you bonnie,” he mocked his accent, “I call you Dove because you’re like a pretty bird. Can’t say why John or Simon call you what they do.”

“Lamb,” she sighed. Strider looked up at her and she could swear Simon stared back. “That’s what Simon calls me.”

“Was a butcher,” Kyle shrugged. Dove doesn’t reply.

The next morning, Dove slipped out of her room before the sun had risen in the sky. The stables were quiet, despite almost all of the horses standing in their stalls. She’d stopped for a moment to consider if the fortress would feed them or if one of the Gods was in charge of it. Then again, Johnny had told her there were no chores to do and Simon told her the fortress was magic and didn’t need upkeep.

She took a bucket and flipped it to sit on in front of Lili’s stall. The mare huffed, blowing air down at her head.

“You’re so pretty,” she whispered, holding an apple out to the horse. Lili studied her for a moment before taking the fruit. “We had horses in our village, too.”

Blue peaked around the stalls and nickered at her.

“They weren’t treated well. Elder Asmo and Elder Torsten said they didn’t earn it,” she continued while leaning towards Blue with another apple. He crunched it and cocked his head for another. Dove sighed, but smiled as she handed him another.

“Mother and Father tried to keep me from them,” she bit into her own apple, “they told me it would just make me sad if—when one of them didn’t come back.”

Lili leaned down, nudging her shoulder for another. Farther down, both Roach and Strider huffed at their lack of treats. Dove stood, shoving her apple between her teeth to give Roach one. When she bit down, he snatched the half eaten fruit from her. She gasped, hands slamming into her hips.

“That was very impolite,” she scolded. Roach turned his head away. Turning, she shooed Blue’s nose away to offer Strider an apple. He huffed again, glancing to Blue before looking back at the apple. But didn’t take it.

“I did cry once. A pretty mare was lost. I’d called her Harpy.” Blue snatched the apple and Dove dug a hand into her skirt pocket to offer Strider a carrot. He took it and tapped the side of her head with his wet nose. She gasped, trying to shove him away but he only blew air at her hair and got his slobber all over her shoulder.

Kyle tilted his head, watching from the rafters as she pulled two more carrots from her pockets and reached into Strider’s stall to set them in his trough.

Sure, it was rude to listen, to sneak around just to watch her and be in her presence. But he found it so hard not to. She’d snuck out of her room like a thief in the night just to sit with her horses.

Her laughter drew his eyes back to her. She was offering an indignant Lili a carrot.

“Harpy was so lovely. She was black and strong. Of course,” Dove tossed an apple at Roach, “she was thin. Elder Torsten said that they needed to come back from three battles before their grain could be increased.” Her voice cracked as Lili leaned down, resting her snout on Dove’s head. “H-Harpy didn’t come back after her second battle.”

Kyle’s heart clenched. She sniffled, then began to cry into Lili’s neck. Blue reached toward her pockets, but Strider snapped his teeth at him.

“I—oh, Lili,” her voice shook as she cooed at the horse. Some of the other horses woke at her crying and began nickering for her to treat them too. Lili pushed at her shoulder, demanded that Dove treat the others to the same feast she had received.

Dove turned, pulling apples and carrots from her neverending pocket for the rest of the herd.

“So,” she began again, “I stole.” Kyle’s brows rose and a grin plastered on his face. “I took from the altar.” Dove whispered it into the mane of Pepper. He couldn’t care less what she said, accepting his second carrot with joy. “I took from John and Simon and Johnny and Kyle. And I gave their offerings to the horses.”

Kyle pressed a hand to his heart. It had been racing the second she’d walked into the stables, but now it pounded. Thundered behind his ribs like the very steeds she spoke to. John had whispered into Kyle’s neck the third night that she slept in their fortress that he loved their prize. Kyle thought the knight was mad, falling in love with a girl they didn’t know and who didn’t know them.

He understood now. Listening to her whisper her secrets to horses. Tell them that she stole from the very gods that would keep her safe and sound until the end of time just to give horses something kind.

By the time the sun sat high in the sky, the herd was satiated—though Blue kept pushing for more—and Dove had left. Kyle sat in the rafters, still, twisting pieces of straw between his fingers. The sound of her tears playing through his brain.

Then an idea hit him.

He raced through the fortress, slipping to a halt outside Johnny’s door. He knocked once before throwing the doors open. Simon glanced up at him, a heavy sigh, before he thumped Johnny on the back.

Johnny groaned, lifting his head just enough to turn to face the door.

“Ye better ‘ave a feckin’ guid reason f’wakin’ me up,” Johnny growled.

“Nearly midday, lazy fuck,” Kyle strode into the room. Simon rolled his eyes and moved to get out of Johnny’s bed. A hand grabbed at his thigh, but Simon slapped it away to stand.

Kyle couldn’t help but stare. Simon liked to hide under cloaks and animal pelts, but he was fit. Scars cut down each arm. Some were hidden under black ink swirling over the muscles of his left arm. Others cut themselves into intricate designs. He was shaped and cut into a warrior. One that Kyle had no qualms with dragging into his bed should he find John was too gentle.

“M’eyes ‘r up here,” Simon grabbed Kyle’s chin and yanked him to look in his eyes. Kyle smirked but Johnny let out a gasp of annoyance.

“Yer in mah room!”

“Just missin’ John,” Kyle mused, never looking away from Simon.

“Wha’d ya want?” Simon released him and strode towards Johnny’s wardrobe to pull clothes out.

“Dove.”

“Aye, but we already ‘ave her,” Soap snapped, throwing his pelts off him and stretching like a cat. Kyle glanced at him but for a moment before dropping into a chair across the room. “Oi, ahm no’ good enough t’stare at?”

“’M jus’ that pretty, Johnny.” Simon chuckled. He sat across from Kyle, now wearing pants and pulling a undershirt over his head. “Wha’ about her?”

“Showed her the horses yesterday,” Kyle shrugged, “she went to see ‘em this morning.”

“Stalking, Gaz?” Johnny sauntered towards him, ignoring the clothes Simon had tossed his way.

“Strong words, Soap,” Kyle bit back, turning to face him. The tattoos on his chest only highlighted his pecs and, while they trailed desperately close to his cock, Kyle kept his eyes from wandering that far.

There was only so much one God could handle before he let his control slip.

“Johnny,” Simon warned, “what about the horses?”

Kyle cleared his throat and Johnny rolled his eyes before snatching his kilt from the bed.

“Dove was telling them about the horses in her village, how they were mistreated,” Kyle said, tilting his head at Simon. Johnny sat himself in an empty chair between them, hands folding together on the table.

“John’s already said we cannae go back,” he grumbled.

“Let me finish,” Kyle rolled his eyes, “she was tellin’ them that she used to steal from the altar for them.” Johnny and Simon glanced at each other and Johnny broke into a grin. “From us. To feed their war horses.”

“Aye, tha’s our girl,” Johnny rumbled.

Simon hummed an agreeance, “doesn’ explain wha’ ya here for.”

“I want to give her one of the horses.”

Simon finally broke out a lopsided smile, “which one?”

“You three look cozy,” John’s voice echoed into the room. Kyle turned to him with a grin. “What’ve you done?”

“Nothin’. Just showed Dove the horses,” he said, “and figured she might like one of her own.”

John hummed, stepping into the room, “I heard that part.”

“Been listening?” Simon scoffed.

“You did call me,” John raked a hand through Kyle’s hair, “what did we say about stealing her time?”

“I do wonder where she learned my name,” Kyle chuckled, taking John’s hand, “couldn’t have been me, huh?”

John huffed, running his tongue over his teeth, and shrugged, “might have told her. What else did she tell the horses about her village?”

John pulled the fourth chair out from the table and sat down, sweeping his eyes over Simon and Johnny. A fresh bruise was blooming over Simon’s shoulder and he cocked an eyebrow only to receive a smirk from him.

“There was a horse she loved. A black mare. Named it Harpy.” Kyle’s voice dropped, “said it didn’t make it home from its second battle.”

“We can talk to Rodolfo,” John mumbled, “see if he knows where the horse went. Might even have her, still.”

“We ‘ave a black stallion,” Johnny said, “might no’ be Harpy, but she’d love ‘im.” Simon nodded beside him, hands intertwined under the table. Johnny’s thumb rubbed circles into Simon’s hand.

“Then he’s hers,” John nodded. He leaned forward, but nothing else came out of his open mouth. He nodded again before standing and leaving.

“Haud,” Johnny slapped a hand on the table, “ye saw her? John saw her?”

Simon huffed out a laugh at him and leaned back in his chair. Kyle glanced towards him, eyes incredulous and an eyebrow cocked.

“You just now figure that out? Dove thought you were smarter than that,” he cooed.

Johnny’s lips pressed into a tight line, “ah though’ we werenae tae see her alone.”

“The res’ a us can handle ourselves, Johnny,” Simon chuckled, “can go a few minutes wit’out humpin’ ‘er leg.”

Johnny scoffed and stumbled over his words. Nothing quite came out right and he let out a shout before giving up on defending himself. “Isnae fair.”

“Seemed interested in your alchemy,” Kyle offered with a shrug, “’ll leave you two to you.” He tapped the table with his fist and stood.

He made his way to the banquet hall. He hadn’t gotten a good look at his own stained glass before Johnny had gone up in a hoot about all four of them changing.

Kyle’s was the second in the row, having been the second to be given godhood. When he arrived at the fortress for the first time, only John’s was stained glass. The other three were clear. By his second week, Kyle’s had formed. Before Dove, three blades made up his. At the top, John’s starmetal dagger shimmered, amber gem at the hilt. Beside it was Johnny’s broadsword. The caged hilt sparkled gold against the silver blade. Beneath them both was Simon’s. His shield, featuring his skull motif, sat behind his greatsword with his ruby hilt.

Yet now, a tiara sits at the very top. Kyle could have mistaken it for a vine had it not twisted in a circle with gems dripping from it. One amber, one red, one blue, one purple.

Yes. Their Prize was making herself at home in their world.

previous | next

masterlist

hi there. long time no update. life is lifeing. anyway. take some gaz and a sprinkle of ghoap. and as always, if you find an error, no you didn't.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[nthspecialll]

Something that rips me apart while being in camp is seeing Abigail and how little she interacts with the others. Most of the characters have interactions or encounters with other characters where they tell their story, fool around or just socialize. It is every day chit chatter, but not Abigail. Abigail's few only encounters are shouting at the campfire that being a mother sucks, talking to John about their child, Susan telling her to take up sex work or Micah trynna hit on her.

She has events, but none of them are as light hearted as Mary-Beth and Karen discussing a romantic curse, Bill praising Javier to the heavens to Sean because of a Job, a bigger group singing songs or Hosea giving advice.

Even in the two events she has with other girls that are nice, she is being a provider, she is being a mother, not to Jack but to the girls as she comforts them.

A lot of the times she will also sit on her own by the tent next to Jack, whereas a lot of the others will be sitting by the fireplace, even if they aren't talking, they are socializing.

She is similar to the gang, yet so different because she is a mother. Yes she is a theif like Mary-Beth, but she is also a mom. Yes, she is an attractive catch like Karen, but she is also a mom. There is a rift there that none of the other characters can relate to and because of that she gets isolated even if it isn't intentionally.

It really breaks my heart to see, often times she also sounds so damn tired when you speak to her or when you hear her muttering "what would I do without you?" to Jack.

Another thing that makes it worse is the fact she has zero support, there is no one there for her. There is a chance of her coming up to ask Arthur for five dollars because she needs to clothe her child yet John won't help. She carries a completely different burden and worry from the others, that they would not relate to. The only one who can is Arthur, because he too has had a child.

Arthur does help whereever he can, taking the role of John the best he can because he is a provider, but it is still quite clear there is a line that the two of them don't cross. Both of them know that John is meant to care for Abigail because he got her pregnant and it is his responsibility, and especially in this time period there really is this idea of "he is meant to help, so he will," the problem is though that John doesn't help, so Abigail is left on her own. Arthur only steps in in the worst times when she truely is at rock bottom.

[temiizpalace]

☆┆ITS BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS..

SUMMARY: it was time to set up for the holidays! what’s some of his favorite traditions to do with you?

CHARACTERS: all dorms (+ grim)

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: none

ROMANTIC HEADCANONS┆(GRIM & ORTHO ARE PLATONIC.)

reader gender is not mentioned, reader is yuu

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

decorating the tree

he likes decorating the tree with you. hanging up the shiny ornaments, covering the tree in the colorful lights, and hanging up the star at the end. at first, he thought decorating some pine tree was silly and unnecessary. but now, he sees the appeal. and he loves it. he asked you if you wanted to decorate another. which is why you both were outside in the snow, decorating the dead trees in front of ramshackle. you’re freezing your ass off, and he’s having the time of his life. hooray.

cater, jack, jade, vil, silver

gingerbread men + houses

the two of you stood in the kitchen, baking enough gingerbread men to make an army. while you two decorated the gingerbread men, he took some frosting and put it on your cheek. he laughs while you get him back, putting frosting on his nose. this puts a temporary pause in the decorating, and becomes an all out frosting war. nobody comes out unscathed. after awhile, you two began to make gingerbread houses. there wasn’t much frosting left, so both of your houses were falling apart. great job guys.

ace, trey, ruggie, floyd, jamil, lilia

wrapping presents

you two sat in the middle of ramshackle, wrapping presents side by side. wrapping paper, tape dispensers, and ribbons were everywhere. scattered across the already messy floor. even if your gift wrapping is really bad, he’s still going to compliment you. telling you he’s not the best even if it’s absolutely perfect. at first he wanted to bring the gift he got for you and wrap it right in front of you, just to show off how well he knows you. i know, i know, he’s impatient. but he made sure it looked FLAWLESS just for you 🫶🫶

riddle, deuce, azul, jade, jamil, sebek

all. all of the above

he’s ready. he’s going to make sure this christmas is is the holliest jolliest one you’ve ever had. oh, it’s not? then he’s pulling out the big guns. christmas inflatables!!1!1!!1!1

grim, rook, epel, ortho, malleus

chilling by the fireplace

christmas traditions are great and all, but he’d rather relax. and you both do just that. laying on the couch in ramshackle, surprised that the fireplace hasn’t burnt down your dorm yet. despite the shock, it really was quite relaxing. of course he wasn’t going to be a grinch and NOT do christmas traditions with you, but just stay here with him for a second. you can decorate your tree and cookies and stuff later. it’ll be you, him, and the fire for the next 30 minutes.

leona

christmas event

christmas traditions??? in a minute, he’s on the grind. he NEEDS this christmas skin and now. listen, he loves you. he truly does. but your normie activities can wait, right? this is a limited skin. these things can’t earn themselves. as soon as december 26th hits, it’s bye bye for that event. til he gets his event items, he’s not moving from his room.

idia

BONUS : MISTLETOE

you were just finished cleaning up after the activity you both did together, when he suddenly calls you over. he’s standing by the doorway, looking right at you. just by that, you could tell why he wants you over. with a smile, you walk over to him, trying to act oblivious to his intentions.

“remember when you said when two people meet under the mistletoe, they kiss?” he asks, a playful smirk on his face. you pretend to think about it before looking back at him. “hmm.. yes. why?”

he points up to the mistletoe hanging above both of your figures. without a second to spare, he crashes his lips onto yours.

the lighting in the room created a warm and light glow, capturing the both of you in an ambient setting. the temperature was still incredibly low inside of ramshackle, but allow his body warmth to keep you from freezing.

riddle, ace, deuce, trey, cater, leona, ruggie, jack, azul, jade, floyd, kalim, jamil, vil, epel, rook, idia, malleus, silver, sebek, lilia

A/N: ngl I think this is my worst work yet

but anyways, merry christmas to those who celebrate! wishing you lots of luck for the new year as well.

date written: 12/25/23

© temiizpalce — don’t steal or copy my work!

[venomvalley]

Request for smut week: Leon and reader spending a cold cold night in a cabin and yk warming up because there's no means of heat and they're freezing which causes them to pleasure each other multipleeee times in an attempt to not "freeze to death"

i do not care about the logistics of this we are here for the smut that is it!! also this is WAY over 1k words (2.3k actually) but this request gave me a brainworm that took over my body. 

this time we got: afab!reader, mutual pining, smut with feelings, a lil creampie thrown in there bc why not !! there’s also a happy ending

18+ only

DAY 3.

What began as a two day excursion to find an Umbrella mountainside base turns into a below-freezing blizzard, an abandoned cabin devoid of insulation, and a blanketing cold that freezes your hands and face and lungs to numbness. The comms are down from the storm. Nobody can reach you for evac. The visibility outside proves nonexistent. Drastic times and drastic measures, you suppose.

The only relief you find from the chill is the wrought-iron tub that you fill with fire-boiled snow. You curl close together, seek comfort in skinship, brainstorm ideas to prolong survival.

The topic is breached just as the water turns cold. 

“So. What’s the plan?” He looks to you as if you possess all the answers. And you usually do.

This time, however—

“There isn’t one.”

It’s a hopeless situation. The water stayed warm all of ten minutes, your two layers of thick clothing shield nothing, and when the weather turns severe like this, it’s sure to last weeks. You stocked up on rations for the trip, always pack extra for worst-case-scenarios such as this. The snow provides water, but the wood inside the cabin is scarce, half-rotten in places. 

The immediate issue is the cold. A problem you have no solution to thus far. 

“So, what? We just give up?” He looks small, knees-to-chest as he huddles, a slight shake to his bones as he fights full-blown shivers. 

Water drains heat. You need out of this tub. 

No towels to dry off with, so you re-dress in record time while he grumbles out a comment about the cold causing a lack of blood to certain areas, and you’ve seen the man naked enough times that it’s a non-issue, but he makes you laugh and nothing else fucking matters. 

But there is still an issue. 

“Okay.” You settle in beside him before fireplace embers, hold gloved hands just above the dying warmth. “We have… very few options here.”

“Which are?”

“Well, we die, for one.”

“Not happening.”

“Then we have to keep our body heat up somehow. Ideally, through exercise. Any kind of movement that increases heart rate.”

“That seems counterproductive.”

“Then we die.”

He hums. “You weren’t kidding about our options.”

“Push-ups and jumping jacks it is, then.”

“Our lungs will freeze.”

“That is a fair possibility.”

You rack your brain for other ideas. Some kind of movement that quickens heart rate. Need something reliable. Tried and true. 

Well. Sex always leaves you sweaty, and it’s known to burn calories which means it’s technically a workout, right?

You glance over at him and he meets your eye, and you heave out a cloudy sigh. “Okay. Another idea. A lot more far-fetched.”

He sniffs, and you note the thick red blush spanning over his cheeks and nose. “Let’s hear it.”

“It’s really fucking cliché.”

“The suspense is killing me.”

You wince. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

That gives him pause—as it should. How do you even approach the subject? Yeah, I think we should try fucking each other right out of the gate. It’s weird, and you feel weird for even thinking it up. He’ll assume you’ve been waiting for the opportunity, for any little reason to get in his pants. Everyone else wants to. 

But it’s not like that. You care about him, yes, because he’s your partner. You’ve saved each others’ lives. You rely on one another. You fight and train and hurt and survive together. 

“I’m sure I’ve heard a lot worse,” he says, eyes dark beneath the shadows of midnight, shoulders wracked by shiver. Nothing but an oil lamp to light the room and his huddled form. 

“We can have sex. It gets the blood pumping, makes people sweat.”

“Okay,” he says, like it’s the easiest answer in the world, and your brain shuts off for a good long moment. 

“Wait, seriously?”

“We’ve been through a lot worse together. Remember when—“

“If you bring up the red wine story, I will let you freeze.”

Through the chatter of his teeth, he grins at you. 

And then it’s decided. Sex to ward off the chill. No big deal. Just an adaptation to circumstances, doing what partners are supposed to do. Keeping each other safe.

No big deal. 

DAY 4.

Huddled inside a thin sleeping bag, he spoons you from behind. Holds you with shivering arms, blanketed by your thick coats. Still, the insulation isn’t enough. The cold permeates and he fits his face against your neck and his nose likens to a cube of ice. 

The situation would be humiliating if the thick of his cock wasn’t so warm and slick and lovely as it fills you up. You press a balled-up shirt to your face, a filter for the frigid air that lessens the pain of breathing. Helps muffle the noises that you fail to bite back. 

You pretend that this doesn’t affect you. That you don’t enjoy the way he holds you, the weight of his arms, the warmth of his breath over your nape. He’s been your other half for years, trustworthy and safe. A relationship built upon end goals and symbiosis. 

This, though. You never could have expected this. 

You fight against the pleasure that wells and waves, that he fills you with each time he bottoms out. It rises and rises and you can’t—it’s all just—

You release the shirt pressed to your mouth and brace a hand against the floor, rise onto an elbow. Pant out low and shaky. Rock your hips to meet his own. Fuck hard back onto him.

“Goddamn.” He hisses the word under his breath, adds a roughness to his thrusts, and you clench tight around him. Can’t help it at this point, and you know you’re making a sticky mess on the both of you. 

You just try to fill up the day. Just need to be warm. That’s all this is about. All that matters. Desperate times.

Still, his response gives you permission to moan. This affects him, too, and those two simple syllables cease your embarrassment. It’s okay. It feels good—fucking amazing, if you’re being honest. It’s supposed to.

The arm he wraps around you raises higher, and the press of his chest against your back throws off your balance, leaves you half-rolled onto your stomach, the sleeping bag stretched taut from your position. 

“Not fair,” you choke out, welcome the curl of his fingers around yours despite the thickness of your gloves.

He seeks to fuck you into the cold floor, hips rough against the swell of your ass, and you arch your back to swallow him deeper, and if he moans into your ear one more time you’ll go fucking insane.

“Shut up. You love it.”

That shatters something within you. Whatever qualms you have about the situation. Whatever professionalism you’ve been latching onto. Because he’s right. It’s so fucking good, and he’s ticking all your boxes, and you wonder for a too-long moment why you never thought to do this before. 

“And if I do?”

He ignores your question. Instead, releases your hand to tug off his glove with the bite of his teeth. Slips frigid fingers over the swell of your clit, slick and hot and impossibly sensitive. He circles over the flesh, one two three four times before you’re gone. Moaning into your glove, fluttering around him, and when he whines at the sensation you think you might die anyway. 

He finishes inside you—another pre-discussed topic, agreed to on the knowledge of your birth control and the inconvenience of any other method—and the jerk of his cock, the flood of warmth feels more intimate than it should. 

Everything is warm now. Sweat beads at the curve of your lower back. He takes his time pulling out, until his cock softens enough that he’s forced to. So warm and nice and relaxed, your chest fuzzy and tender, ruined by the sticky trail of cum that leaks out of you. 

“To answer your question,” he begins, voice sandpaper rough at the edges. Swipes his thumb through the mess, spreads it over the hood of your clit and exhales a laugh when you jolt in surprise. “There’s no if. I know you too well.”

DAY 6.

You don’t talk about it—whatever that little moment was a few days ago. Flirting, maybe. Definitely something more than your usual banter, your long-lasting dynamic. You felt like… fuck, like lovers. He touched you like he meant to mark his place on your skin.

It’s not what partners do, and neither of you want to address it.

He looks unbelievably pretty beneath you: flushed deep red at the cheeks, eyes lidded and glossy, groaning deep in his throat each time the slick of your cunt swallows him down to the root. 

You like him best like this. He massages his palms down your back, over the bare stretch of your waist and hips and ass and thighs, greedy with his touch.

This isn’t normal. This isn’t how partners act. They don’t fuck each other, and they don’t share loving gazes, and they don’t confuse touch with idolatry.

There’s something else here, something more. Something devastating in its severity. 

DAY 10.

Your jackets are unzipped, shirts bunched beneath your arms. So are his. The sleeping bag traps in the heat like always, and your bare chest sticks to his own from all the sweat. 

The sex is weirder this time around. Not a bad weird, no. Freeing, fully indulgent. You’ve accepted that fucking each other feels good, and it’s become less about staying warm and more about staving off the boredom. You realized early on that curling up naked inside the sleeping bag together, using your clothes as extra insulation, worked well enough. But it’s fun, and he touches you like he wants you, and it helps you pretend that you’re somewhere else but here: low on rations, frozen down to the marrow in your bones, stranded indefinitely. But at least you have him, and that’s a confusing headspace to be in. 

“God, right there.” The tilt of his hips forces the breath from your lungs, cock sliding perfect against sensitive nerves. All squishy silk and squelching heat that brews intensity in the pit of your belly. 

“So fucking—“ he cuts himself off with a groan, and the relax of his jaw teases teeth over the flesh of your throat. You wish he would bite down. Mark you. Give you something to remember when you leave this place and have to pretend that nothing happened. Like he hasn’t been balls-deep inside you for the last week.

You aren’t sure who initiates, but he bottoms out inside you and all of a sudden you’re kissing. He heavies his weight atop you, clutches hard to your shoulder to keep you in place, fucks into you so hard you jolt against the floor. You slide a hand over his back, sweatslick and warm beneath your bare palm. Trace the welts of his spine, dig blunt nails into the skin of his shoulder blade. 

Your other hand circles quick over your clit, and he pulls back to look at you, all starshine and hunger and ferality. Furrow-browed and panting. 

Something clicks. A chest-bursting revelation, horribly inconvenient. 

This is way more than being good partners. Than fighting for survival. It’s time to accept that. 

He slows his thrusts, eyes darting over the features of your face. Asks, “What’s wrong?” and all you can do is shake your head. 

Don’t you dare. Don’t ruin this. Ignore it. Swallow it down no matter how deep the glass slices.

“I’m okay. Just had a weird thought.”

His hips still. “You need to stop?”

“No.” You answer much too quick, and his lips twitch at the edges. His eyes begin to glitter in mirthy amusement. “I’m still cold.”

You’re not, though, and he knows it. Sweat beads on your forehead, the curve of your nose. The heat is borderline uncomfortable inside the sleeping bag, but you can feel your hands again and you can use them to feel his skin and—

Fuck.

You love him.

DAY 14.

When the storm subsides and the comms continue working and they send out a bird for evac, both of you decide to keep the last two weeks secret. When you leave this cabin, you’ll remain partners. You’ll pretend that you don’t miss his touch, how nice he fills you up, the weight of his body.

You’re taken to the hospital, lose the tip of a finger, receive a round of fluids and a steroid shot. Both of you are sent home and ordered to rest.

Life goes on.

—AFTER

It takes a month before the both of you cave. An empty meeting room at HQ, with the lights off and the curtains pulled and you sat on the table. 

He says what you’re thinking. An, “I missed this,” fanned warm over the curve of your shoulder. 

The sex is tender this time. Slow and sweet and fuck, you aren’t used to this. 

“I missed you.” A confession that starts from a thought that forms into syllables that you speak before your brain catches up, and you don’t have the heart to take it back. “I’m allowed to admit that, right?”

He breathes out a laugh. Presses his lips to yours. “I can admit a lot more than that.”

“Then do it.”

“Tell me something first.”

The head of his cock slicks over your clit, leaves your thighs tensing, and the edges of your vision begin to blur. “Anything.”

“The weird thought you had. What was it?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Say it anyway.”

You won’t look away from him. Couldn’t if you tried. Not when his eyes gleam the way they do, even in the darkness, impossibly bright and beautiful. You can’t swallow glass anymore.

“I love you.”

There it is. Spoken aloud, weightless, heart-draining. You expect him to laugh, to mock you, to pull away.

He does none of those things. Slides back into you, spreads his fingers along your spine. Says, “Wow. What a coincidence,” and you don’t think you’ll ever feel the chill again.

[estapa-edwards]

SCARED - J. HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x fem! reader

word count: 1.8k

requested? yes - jack being in love with quinn’s long time best friend like everyone knows but her. and he’s never tried to confess because he doesn’t think she likes him and didn’t want to mess up the friendship with quinn.

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Jack sat across the room, stealing glances at Y/N as she laughed at something Quinn said. He couldn't help but admire the way her eyes sparkled with joy, the way her smile illuminated the room. She had been Quinn's best friend for years, and Jack had been drawn to her from the moment they met.

But he kept his feelings buried deep, hidden beneath the guise of friendship. He didn't dare confess his love for Y/N, fearing it would complicate things between him and Quinn. Their friendship was precious to him, and he couldn't bear the thought of jeopardizing it.

During the weekend getaway at the Michigan house, Jack found himself captivated by every moment spent in Y/N's presence. From the first evening when she arrived, her laughter echoed through the halls, drawing everyone closer like moths to a flame.

The first meal together was a casual affair, filled with chatter and laughter. Jack found himself sitting across from Y/N, stealing glances whenever he thought she wasn't looking. Her smile was infectious, lighting up the room and warming Jack's heart in a way he hadn't experienced before.

As the weekend unfolded, Jack and Y/N found themselves naturally gravitating towards each other. They took leisurely walks by the lake, the gentle lapping of the water providing a soothing backdrop to their conversations. With each step, Jack felt himself falling deeper under Y/N's spell, her easygoing nature putting him at ease.

Late-night conversations became the highlight of Jack's day. Whether they were huddled around the fireplace or sitting out on the porch under a blanket of stars, Jack found himself opening up to Y/N in ways he never had before. They shared stories, dreams, and secrets, forming a bond that felt as natural as breathing.

"So, tell me about your favorite childhood memory," Y/N prompted, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Jack chuckled, memories flooding back. "Well, there was this one time when I was seven, and I decided to build a fort in the backyard. I spent the whole day gathering sticks and blankets, and when I was finally done, it was the best fort in the whole neighborhood."

Y/N's laughter filled the room, music to Jack's ears. "That sounds amazing! I wish I could have seen it."

They talked long into the night, sharing childhood anecdotes, dreams for the future, and everything in between. With each passing moment, Jack felt himself opening up to Y/N in ways he never had before, a sense of ease settling over him like a warm embrace.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

On another night, they sat out on the porch under a blanket of stars, the gentle rustle of the wind the only sound breaking the stillness of the night. The sky above was a canvas painted with a thousand twinkling lights, a sight that never failed to awe Jack.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Y/N whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Jack nodded, his gaze fixed on the heavens above. "It's breathtaking. Makes you realize how small we are in the grand scheme of things."

Y/N leaned closer, her presence comforting in the quiet of the night. "But it also reminds us of the beauty in simplicity, the moments that take our breath away."

As the weeks passed by, Jack and Y/N found themselves constantly staying in touch, their messages and calls becoming a regular part of their daily routine. They laughed at each other's jokes, shared the mundane details of their days, and offered support and encouragement whenever it was needed.

Despite the undeniable connection between them, neither Jack nor Y/N dared to confess their feelings, not even to themselves. They danced around the truth, tiptoeing on the edge of something more, but always stopping short of taking the leap.

Yet, everyone around them seemed to sense the unspoken tension between Jack and Y/N. Quinn raised an eyebrow whenever Jack mentioned Y/N’s name, a knowing smile playing on her lips. Friends exchanged knowing glances whenever Jack and Y/N were in the same room, as if silently urging them to acknowledge the obvious.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Jack sat on his bed, phone pressed to his ear, a smile playing on his lips as he listened to Y/N’s voice drift through the line.

Y/N: “…And then, can you believe it? I tripped over my own shoelaces in the middle of the street!”

Jack chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Only you, Y/N. Only you could manage to turn something as simple as tying your shoelaces into a comedy routine.”

Y/N laughed, the sound like music to Jack’s ears. “Hey, you’ve gotta find humor in the little things, right?”

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on everything from their favorite movies to their most embarrassing childhood memories. Jack found himself opening up to Y/N in ways he never had before, a sense of ease settling over him like a warm blanket.

Y/N: “So, what about you, Jack? Any exciting plans for the weekend?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, the truth lingering on the tip of his tongue. But instead, he opted for a nonchalant response. “Oh, you know, just the usual. Probably catch up on some reading and maybe hit the gym.”

Y/N: “Sounds like a blast,” she teased, her tone playful.

Just then, the sound of the door opening interrupted their conversation, and Jack’s heart skipped a beat.

Quinn: “Hey, Y/N, hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Y/N’s voice brightened. “Not at all, Quinn. Just catching up with Jack.”

Jack’s mind raced as he tried to mask the sudden nervousness that washed over him. He knew Quinn had a knack for picking up on things, and the last thing he wanted was for her to suspect anything between him and Y/N.

Jack: “Hey, Quinn. How’s it going?”

Quinn: “Can’t complain. Just thought I’d drop by and say hi. Didn’t mean to interrupt your phone call.”

Y/N: “No worries, Quinn. It’s always good to hear from you.”

As Quinn joined them in the conversation, Jack couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over him. He knew that his feelings for Y/N were still safely tucked away, hidden beneath the guise of friendship. But as he glanced at Y/N’s name flashing on his phone screen, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there was something more waiting to be discovered between them.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

The arena buzzed with excitement as the Devils faced off against the Canucks in a highly anticipated match-up. Jack, clad in his Devils jersey, skated onto the ice with determination, his eyes focused on the puck as he prepared for the game ahead. Beside him, Quinn, sporting the Canucks colors, exchanged a competitive grin, ready to give it their all.

As the game progressed, the tension on the ice was palpable. Jack and Quinn clashed repeatedly, each vying for control of the puck and striving to outmaneuver the other. The crowd roared with every shot, every save, caught up in the intensity of the match.

But amidst the flurry of action, Jack's attention was drawn to the stands, where a familiar figure caught his eye. There, in the sea of cheering fans, stood Y/N, her face illuminated by a bright smile as she waved enthusiastically.

Jack's heart skipped a beat as he watched Y/N, his gaze lingering on her figure. She wore a unique jersey, half Devils red and half Canucks blue, a playful nod to the rivalry between the two teams. Jack couldn't help but grin at the sight, feeling a surge of affection for Y/N wash over him.

Quinn noticed Jack's distraction and followed his gaze, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as she caught sight of Y/N in the stands. He nudged Jack playfully, a knowing glint in his eye.

Quinn: "Looks like someone's got a fan in the stands."

Jack's cheeks flushed slightly as he tore his gaze away from Y/N, focusing back on the game at hand.

Jack: "Yeah, she's... supportive."

Quinn chuckled, his competitive spirit undiminished as he refocused his attention on the game. But Jack couldn't shake the image of Y/N from his mind, her presence in the stands serving as a reminder of the deeper feelings he harbored for her.

As the game wore on, Jack's determination only grew stronger. With Y/N's unwavering support fueling him, he pushed himself harder, skating faster, and shooting with precision. And when the final buzzer sounded, signaling the Devils' victory, Jack couldn't help but feel a swell of pride, knowing that Y/N had been there to witness his triumph.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

After weeks of dancing around their feelings, Jack and Y/N found themselves at a crossroads. The tension between them had reached a breaking point, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air whenever they were together. And one fateful evening, as they sat on the porch under a blanket of stars, the weight of their emotions became too much to bear.

The silence between them was deafening, the only sound the soft rustle of the wind as it swept through the trees. Jack's heart raced in his chest as he stole a glance at Y/N, her profile illuminated by the moonlight.

Jack: "Y/N, there's something I need to tell you."

Y/N turned to him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of what was to come. "What is it, Jack?"

Jack took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he prepared to lay bare his heart and soul. "I... I've been holding back for so long, afraid of ruining our friendship, but I can't keep it in any longer. I'm in love with you, Y/N. I have been for as long as I can remember."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest as she processed Jack's words. She had suspected, had felt the same longing in her own heart, but hearing Jack confess his feelings aloud sent a shiver down her spine.

Y/N: "Jack, I... I don't know what to say."

Jack's heart sank at the uncertainty in Y/N's voice, fearing he had made a mistake in laying his feelings bare. But before he could utter another word, Y/N reached out and took his hand in hers, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through him.

Y/N: "I've been holding back too, Jack. Afraid of losing our friendship, of what might happen if I admitted how I feel. But the truth is, I'm in love with you too."

Jack's eyes widened in disbelief, his heart soaring with a joy he had never known. In that moment, everything else faded away—their fears, their doubts, their uncertainties—leaving only the two of them, bathed in the glow of the moonlight and the warmth of their newfound love.

And as they leaned in to share their first kiss, Jack knew that some risks were worth taking, especially when it came to matters of the heart. For in Y/N's arms, he had found everything he had ever been searching for, and more.

[the-offside-rule]

Jack Doohan (Alpine) - Timezone

Day 15 of Christmas

Prompt: Christmas in Different time zones

25 Days of Christmas

Christmas morning was quiet in Switzerland, soft snow covering the ground outside as Y/n woke up, stretching beneath the warm blankets. Her phone buzzed beside her, lighting up with a notification. She reached for it, her heart fluttering as she saw the familiar name.

Jack: Happy Christmas, love! Couldn’t wait to open the present you got me, but I held strong. Hope you’re having the best morning!

She could picture him back home on the Gold Coast, the sunshine spilling through the windows, a world away from the frosty air outside her window. A smile spread across her face as she typed out a response.

Y/n: Happy Christmas, Jack! Just woke up to your message. I’m about to head downstairs to the family for presents. Talk soon!

Putting her phone down, she threw on a cozy jumper and headed downstairs, where her family was gathered around the tree, mugs of hot chocolate and coffee in hand. The house was filled with warmth radiating off the fireplace, laughter, and anticipation. They began opening presents, passing gifts around the room one by one. Amid the cheerful chaos, Y/n noticed the neatly wrapped gift with her name on it, resting at the foot of the tree where she left it when she got to Switzerland. Before the couple parted ways for Christmas, they switched gifts, both promising not to open them until they were both awake on Christmas Day, which for Jack was tortue considering he was ahead in time. She picked it up, her eyes catching a small note on top in Jack's familiar handwriting: Call me first.

Excited, she slipped away from the bustle, stepping onto the balcony for a little privacy, and dialed Jack’s number. He picked up almost immediately, grinning wide with a Santa hat perched on his head, the bright Australian sun glowing behind him. "Good morning, gorgeous!" He beamed. "I’m calling you live from sunny Australia, where we’re getting the Christmas barbecue ready. Mum insisted on the Santa hat." He said, leaning the phone onto a glass. "Good evening to you then!" She laughed, savoring the warm familiarity of his voice. "Alright, I’ve got your gift here. Opening it now?"

"Yes, ma’am! Go on, I’m dying to see if you like it." She unwrapped the package carefully, her heart racing as the paper fell away to reveal a stunning collection of delicate jewelry; dainty earrings, a silver bracelet with tiny charms, and her favorite chocolates nestled between each piece. She gasped, speechless. Jack’s face softened as he watched her reaction. "I wanted my girl to feel like a princess, especially when you’re back in the paddock next season. You deserve it all." Her eyes sparkled as she looked back at him. "Jack, this is perfect. Thank you. Now, you better open yours!"

Jack chuckled, carefully unwrapping the gift he had stashed under the tree for the last two weeks. Inside, he found the watch he’d been eyeing for months, now engraved with his initials. This particular watch caught his fancy as it had two clocks on it that you could adjust to whatever time you wanted, so he figured if he were to ever get it, he would put Gold Coast's tome and Y/n's Timezone, just so he knew when to check in eith everyone when he was away. Beside it lay his favourite cologne, a scent she’d always loved on him. He shook his head in disbelief, letting out a low whistle. "Y/n, this is unreal!" His voice was filled with surprise. "You didn’t have to do this; this is way too much."

"Just a little something to keep you on time for once." He smiled warmly. "Well, I think I’ll be wearing this every single day now." He held the watch up to his wrist, grinning before looking back at her. "Alright, Santa, are you coming with me to start breakfast?"

"For you? Always." He laughed, switching the camera as she brought him into the kitchen, setting up her phone so they could chat while she made breakfast alongside him. They laughed and swapped stories of past Christmas mornings, his voice a soothing presence as she cracked eggs and flipped pancakes, the sound of sizzling meat drifting over from his side of the world. He talked about the barbecue his family was setting up and promised to save her a spot for next year.

Eventually, with plates ready and family members starting to call him over, Jack sighed. "Guess it’s time I head back to them, huh?" She nodded, the pang of missing him catching up to her again. "Alright, I’ll let you get to your barbecue." She said, blowing him one last kiss. His face softened, eyes warm. "Merry Christmas, Y/n. I love you."

"Merry Christmas, Jack. Love you, too." They ended the call, both hearts full despite the miles between them. Throughout the day, their phones buzzed with updates and photos, each small moment bridging the distance and bringing them closer as they shared their Christmases across time.

[lovecla]

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, nico hischier x you.

FAKE IT 'TILL YOU MAKE IT, phase five:

<last chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: none!

➴ word count: 1.8k

💌 from me to you: it’s still weird to me how this fic barely has any warnings… like what! no fights? no drugs? no misunderstandings? only love and fluff? weird. this one’s a little bit on the shorter side, hope u guys can forgive me :,) i love all of you

𖧷

𖧷

IT WAS December 25th, and you had just finished eating lunch with your family. Mia stopped by to visit you and your parents, and you took the opportunity to chat with her and ask what she thinks about the outfit you chose to visit Nico and his family.

“Do you think this is too much?”

Mia smiles at you while she plays with Tod, your family’s dog.

“No, baby. You look amazing. I’m sure Nico will want you as his present.”

You feel your cheeks getting warm and you try to hide them with your hands. “Don’t say that…”

“You’re so cute, Em,” she says, staring at you with fond eyes. “Is this your first time meeting his parents as his girlfriend?”

You sigh before nodding. Lying to your best friend feels terrible.

“Yes,” you sit on the couch, putting on your warmest boots. “That’s why I’m like this. I love his family a lot and I really want them to think I’m the right… person. For Nico.”

Stop talking, Emma, what the hell.

Mia smiles.

“You’re so cute,” she also gets up. “I’m sure they’ll see it right away.”

You really hoped so.

You and Mia told your parents goodbye and you promised them you’d be back by next week— since you’d go back to your house after visiting the Hischiers. They made Mia take two containers full of leftover food and promise she’d tell her mom to come visit them.

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” Mia gives you a kiss on your forehead, squeezing your arms afterwards. “You’re amazing. And they already like you, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. “I hope you’re right.”

You drove to Nico’s house with shaky hands. You still remember the first time you met his parents, Katja and Rino; you were in one of the Devils games, and since you were sitting close to them, you started chit chatting with them, not knowing who they were.

You were young and very eager to see one of your favorite teams playing, and it was the first time you were going alone, with no one else, so the cute couple beside you seemed like the best company.

By the end of the second period you already knew a lot about them— they had three children, they were from Switzerland and they were visiting New Jersey for a week.

It was almost impossible not to freak out when they took you with them to the VIP room— a place you’d never been before, because despite being friends with Jack and Luke, they weren’t playing for the Devils at that time— and introduced you to their son, no one other than Nico Hischier himself.

You would’ve never imagined that years later you’d be going to his house, on Christmas, to meet his parents as his girlfriend.

Fake girlfriend.

Right.

You parked in front of his house and took a deep breath, reminding yourself that your lie would help Nico anyway.

Even if you could completely lose their trust if they found out.

You rang the doorbell and smiled when Rino opened the door for you, wearing a cute, adorable Christmas themed sweater.

“Hey, there, schätzli,” he greets you, his strong accent making you laugh. “You’re finally here.”

“Hi, Mr. Hischier,” you hug him, standing on the tip of your toes since Nico’s entire family consists of tall, gorgeous people. “So nice to see you again.”

“Come in, come in,” he opens the door wider and guides you in, as you stare at the room you’re— now— so used to. It’s heavily decorated with Christmas decorations and a huge tree sits on the corner of Nico’s living room. The fireplace is on, and the vibes are extremely cozy.

Nico is standing by the fireplace with his hands in his pockets, talking to his brother, Luca, while Nina is sitting on the couch with her mom.

“Lueg, wär da isch!” Rino says, and even if you don’t understand it, you know he must’ve said something to announce that you had just arrived, because the second he’s done talking, all eyes are on you— Nico’s included.

“Oh my God, finally!” Nina says, jumping out of the couch and running to hug you. You hug her back just as fast, happy to see her after so long. “I’ve missed you, Roberts!”

You laugh, because Nina Hischier is the only person in the entire world who calls you by your last name instead of your first.

“I’ve missed you too, Nina.”

“You’re gorgeous!” She takes your hands and holds them together. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine,” you shrug, blushing with the attention. “What about you?”

“I’m super,” she says with a french accent, which makes you laugh. “Now I’m even more super because you’re my sister in law!”

Her excitement makes you sad. Because, technically, you’re not. What you and Nico have isn’t real, and will never be.

Nora Ellis is your real sister in law. Not me.

“Leave the poor girl alone, sweet baby Jesus,” Ratja takes your hands out of Nina’s hold and hugs you, kissing your cheek. “But you do look gorgeous, honey. Did you do something with your hair?”

“You stopped wearing those ugly, blue shoes. That’s what’s different.” Luca jokes and everyone laughs, as you roll your eyes.

You feel a pair of hands in your waist, and you shiver under Nico’s touch. You hadn’t even realized he had moved to your side, and was now standing behind you.

He kisses the top of your head before he says: “Leave my girlfriend alone. D ihr sind so nöig,” he clicks his tongue. “Sorry about this.”

“‘s fine,” you say, shaking your head. “And for the record, my blue boots weren’t ugly. You just don’t understand what fashion is.”

“Sure we don’t.” Luca says back, and you need to hold the want of flipping him off back.

“We were just about to watch a movie,” Rino says, sitting back on the couch, stretching his legs. “Can you join us? Or do you have somewhere else to be?”

“I’m free all afternoon.” You smile, and they start discussing which Christmas movie is the best.

While their loud voices fill the entire house, Nico’s whisper in your ear is the only thing you focus on.

“Thank you for coming. I owe you.”

You turn around, facing him and his chocolate eye, realizing how he looks so cute, with his face a little flushed due to the warmth provided by the fire.

“You don’t need to thank me,” you smile. “It’s part of the deal.”

“The deal was to help me trick Nora, not my family,” he says, and you roll your eyes, playfully.

“It’s the same thing. We’ll be fine. We survived worse things, right?”

“Mhm,” he puts a strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes scanning your entire face. “Like that one dinner last month.”

You grin. “Yeah. Like that one dinner last month.”

“Will you guys stop being disgusting and come here?” Nina asks, and you blush while Nico says something to her in Swiss-German— probably a curse word since his dad told him to stay quiet.

“Uh…” you start, looking at the couch. Nina and Luca were both sitting in the remaining chairs beside the couch, and Nico’s parents were sitting side to side on it.

“Come sit with me.” Nico whispers, walking to the free space on the couch and taking you with him.

You can feel yourself start to panic when you realize he doesn't want you to sit beside him, but on him.

Yet, if you’d started bickering about it, it would look suspicious. All of his family were just waiting for you both to get comfortable so they could start the movie, so you couldn’t take too long deciding whether you’d sit on or beside him.

Nodding, you sit sideways on Nico’s lap, holding in a sigh of satisfaction. He’s warm and his clothes are smelling like him, and when you rest your head against his chest, with his arms holding you close and his chin resting on top of yours, you know you’re absolutely done.

“Are we all ready?” Katja asks but doesn’t wait for an answer, signaling to Nina so she could press play and start the movie.

You can feel Nico’s chest going up and down, his breathing steady and calm. His heart is beating and the sound soothes you, guiding you into a deep state of calm, while you try to keep yourself calm.

You shouldn’t feel like this. Not with him. Not with the man you’re supposed to be helping, the man you’re supposed to be supporting.

He’s in love with someone else, and has been for years now. Yet, you keep replying to the past two months in your head, wishing you could go back in time just to make the most out of those moments again.

When he took you ice skating. When you kissed him at that party. When he bought you lunch and dinner for three days straight until you begged him to stop. When you forced him to dance with you at one of the Devils’ parties.

Now you’re on his lap, watching a silly movie with his family. To them, you’re his girlfriend. To them, you’re the only person he loves and cherishes.

And you are not even one of those things.

𖧷

“Let her sleep, oh my God, you guys are monsters.”

“Nico, take her to your room. Poor thing looks tired.”

“I can’t do that with all of you standing here and looking at her like she’s some kind of experiment. If she wakes up she’ll feel weirded out.”

“Well, if she isn’t weirded out by your face, then she won’t be weirded out by anything else.”

“Halt d'schnurre.”

“Nico!”

YOU WAKE up with the soft feeling of fabric beneath you, and you open only one eye, staring at Nico in front of you. Or at least you expect it’s him, since the room’s dark you can’t really see anything besides a silhouette.

“Sorry,” someone whispers. It’s definitely Nico. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“‘s okay,” you mumble, closing your eyes again and getting comfortable between his sheets. They all smell like him and this time you don’t hold in your content sigh. “You’re not coming to bed?”

He takes a few seconds to answer. When he does, you’re almost back in Dreamland, almost not even acknowledging the words he’s saying.

“Yeah,” you feel the other side of the bed sinking beside you. His arms wrap around you and now you’re laying on top of something way more comfortable than a pillow, his chest. “Good night, schätzi.”

You give him a lazy, tired smile. “Good night Nico.”

𖧷

ninahischier

Newark, New Jersey

liked by elladavis and 176 others

ninahischier Schöni Wiehnachte ❤️ Thought this picture was too cute to stay in my camera roll nicohischier emmaroberts

View all 20 comments

user1 Is that Nico with a girl? A Christmas miracle indeed! 😂

ninahischier user1 I know right

miaturner praying circle against loving couples in my house today at 11:99 🙏🏻

ninahischier miaturner I’m in

elladavis oh they’re so adorable :( God bless them

nataliebrooks Sooo cute! Merry Christmas!! 🎄❤️

emmaroberts oh my god

user2 was für es schöis paar!!!!

jackhughes I thought i was your favorite cap :/

<next chapter>

[deuce-t-agere]

How would baby Logan celebrate Halloween? Do you have any HC's for what little Logan would do in Halloween?

Ooh! I gots head canons alright

(And some doodles)

Baby Logan wouldn't really get trick r treating. Free candy? Yes please! But having to talk to strangers to get it? No thank you, he will just beg someone to buy him some.

Since most people probably wouldn't take too kindly to him (a physical adult) or some of the others in the mansion (also adults and/or visible mutants) trick r treating they do their own around the mansion and he likes that much better.

He was very ready to just wear his suit when he was told he needed to wear a costume bc so many Halloween costumes are soooo itchy, and he doesn't like em, not one bit.

Ororo helped him make a deer costume that was really just him wearing a brown sweater with felt spots on the back and little ears (which he took off in the first five minutes bc he didn't like wearing the headband) He was vry excited to tell everyone that he was a deer, he's not Logan or a wolverine, he's a baby deer.

The X-Men all carved pumpkins together and that was his favorite! He just used his claws to stab it a bunch, his jack-o-lantern was a big mess but he was very proud of it.

He also greatly enjoyed eating all the pumpkin guts and seeds, but Remy and Rogue (who were also regressed at the time) kept getting mad at him because apparently they needed those to make pie and roasted pumpkin seeds, so Logan couldn’t eat everyone’s pumpkin innards.

Logan then tried to take a bite out of each of their pumpkins bc he was mad that they made him stop eating his little treat, Scott and Jean stopped him, but he tried.

Jean definitely planned a bunch of crafts for all the little ones, and Logan isn't into crafts much but he'll gladly follow along with just about anything Jean comes up with.

Big Logan enjoys watching all the scary movies everyone wants to watch, baby Logan would rather not, he doesn't like movies much, other than cuddling with Roro, and scary movies are even worse cause they're scary, he'll be taking a nap by the fireplace, thank you.

[linkemon]

Raining chocolates (Jack Frost x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

[ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ] ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴀᴄᴋ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴠɪᴇᴡꜱ ᴏɴ ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ'ꜱ ᴅᴀʏ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʀᴀɪɴ ᴄʜᴏᴄᴏʟᴀᴛᴇꜱ!

ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: 1. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ'ꜱ ᴅᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴜᴀʀᴅɪᴀɴ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

— Are they arguing again? — Tooth looked uncertainly towards the hall.

— Yes but at least the chocolate boxes are flying! — North caught the package mid-flight.

Satisfied, he tore the dark red, shiny paper. Inside he found a mixture of pralines. He was trying to decide which flavour he should choose when a snowball flew above his head. Unfazed, he decided to eat the entire package at once.

— Maybe we should separate them? — The fairy was nervously flying next to the fireplace.

— That's what I'm talking about! — The Bunny wiped the snow from his face.

Judging by the dirt on his paws, he had just jumped out of the tunnel. He didn't like the welcome snowball straight to the forehead.

— I do not see a problem. — Santa continued to eat the best nut chocolates.

He was interrupted by a loud bang.

He rushed towards the argument. The corridor looked like a battlefield. The entire batch of robots was lying on the floor. Dolls and blocks followed suit. The production machine turned off. There were screws and wires sticking out of it. The paint poured straight onto the carpet, dyeing it rainbow colors. Yeti, in charge of production, was sitting in the corner. He covered his head with one paw and stuffed chocolate hearts with the other. Two Guardians stood in the colourful chaos.

— Valentine's Day should be joyful! — Jack Frost was making a new snowball in his hands.

— Get on with your job! — [Reader] deftly dodged the throw.

— North, good to have you here! Tell her. Love is a beautiful, joyful feeling, isn't it? So the holiday should be like that too! — he said as if it were the most obvious truth.

— You know nothing! Who is the Spirit of Valentine's Day here? You or me?

The girl took out her bow. In a second, she reached for an arrow from the pink quiver. She was already drawing the string when a loud voice interrupted her:

— Enough of this! I don't care who started it — North added as the two prepared to explain. — You'll clean it all up. Every single toy, got it?

***

— You know what she once told me? — North put his arm around Jack. — That love is ten percent joy and ninety percent suffering. Do not interrupt me. — He glared as he saw the guard open his mouth. — She has good reason to think so. I don't agree with her but I don't question her work and neither should you.

They had already passed the main hall and three floors and the boy was beginning to wonder where they were going. It took him a while to understand the purpose of the strangely long trip.

North grabbed him by the hood and then unceremoniously pushed him over the threshold of the room. When the boy heard the lock click, he knew something was up.

— But it's a bit inhumane. — He heard Toothiana's voice from behind the door.

— They didn't act like humans when they demolished the quarters! And now they will sit there until they make up!

The winter spirit yanked on the doorknob. Unsuccessfully.

He turned around and saw what he feared most. [Reader] was sitting on the couch. She was slowly realizing the situation they were in. A closed room without windows made escape impossible. If they want to leave, they have to come to an agreement.

He walked over to the sofa and sat down on the opposite end from his companion. He stared stubbornly at the fireplace. Orange flames licked the pieces of wood. They produced unbearable heat. The winter spirit didn't like it. He would much rather have the fire extinguished but he had no intention of moving. [Reader] was getting cold quickly. Why did he even care? He convinced himself that it would escalate the argument and left it at that. Because there's no way he would care about her...

Out of boredom, he started counting the seconds. He wanted to estimate the time he would spend in the room. However, he quickly gave up. Instead, he pulled the nearest pillow, placed it under his head, and decided to take a nap.

— Did he bring you here too, saying he wanted to talk? — The spirit of Valentine's Day couldn't stand the silence.

— Yeah — he muttered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl shift uncomfortably.

— So maybe we can pretend we've made up and just leave here, huh?

The boy turned his head towards her. He hadn't expected it but the idea was tempting.

— I'm in. — He smiled mischievously.

He was already getting up from the couch when the plan backfired.

— I heard everything, you cheaters. You two should really get along! — Santa shouted from behind the door. — I'll know if you lied to me!

There was a slight threat in his tone.

— North, you weren't supposed to eavesdrop! — Toothiana's loud voice joined the conversation. — Don't disturb mind him, little ones! — she added sweetly.

For a moment, a scuffle could be heard. Then the sounds gradually faded away. Apparently they're gone.

Resigned, the boy sat back down between the soft pillows. Now the idea of using tricks stopped running through his mind. First of all, it would be suspicious. Secondly, although he didn't want to admit it, he was a little afraid of the Guardian of Christmas. His pleasant exterior concealed a weird man.

He decided to look at the room. Unfortunetely, it was empty. The brown boards were starting to get old. The wallpaper with a motif of red and green baubles was eye-catching. The thick, heavy curtains showed traces of dust. Frost preferred not to know the last time someone decided to swipe it out. Seeing the gray layer on the mantelpiece, he felt the urge to clean the room. Unfortunately, even if he wanted to kill time this way, he had no way to do it. The yeti probably took out the rest of the furniture. As always. Why were they doing this? Nobody knew that. When asked about this, the creatures grunted in their own language and continued doing their thing. For this reason, rearrangements in the quarters were frequent. Sometimes even the owner of the bed woke up in a different place than where he fell asleep.

Unfortunately, the tour did not kill the boredom. It was too short.

Jack sat behind the couch and started playing with his staff. He conjured two snow hares. He bet on who would reach the finish line first. He set his end point at the other end of the room. Later he started changing animal species. He wasn't having the best time but he couldn't think of anything else.

— Can you make buildings too? — [Reader]'s voice came from above.

She leaned out from the couch, looking at the frosty creations jumping, running, crawling, and swimming across the floor.

— Yes, of course. Any special requests? — He turned around.

It was a reflex. The Guardian of Fun did not refuse to give joy to others. Especially when it was within his capabilities. Only after a while did it occur to him that they were still quarreling, so maybe he shouldn't break away so eagerly.

— Could you make a hut?

Frost's first instinct was to create his family home but he suspected that wasn't the point.

— A little more sloping roof — added the girl — and an orchard on the left.”

The boy listened attentively, following the instructions. Soon, a snow model was created. The house was surrounded by a fence. Little cows and pigs were grazing nearby. They were also accompanied by a troop of hens led by a rooster. The Spirit of Winter had a slight problem with the flowers. He didn't know much and suspected that the garden turned out hopelessly. But he had trees in his little finger. Probably because he often jumped on them, playing with the wind.

— I guess that's all.

He didn't even notice when the Guardian of Love took a seat next to him on the hard boards. She stared as if enchanted at the image stretching before her. The smile that graced her face let him know that he had done a good job after all. There was a lot of melancholy in her look.

— It this your home? — he asked.

— Yeah... — She touched a small sheep in the middle of the pasture. — It was until... until I became... you know.

Dead. This word came to mind. Their friends would probably think about their jobs. They'd put it more like: Before I became a Guardian... They stopped being alive a long time ago. However, like him, she was relatively young. As young as you can be after several hundred years. She still remembered.

— I drowned. — He felt like his own voice sounded foreign.

Why exactly did he tell her that? After all, she didn't ask him anything.

However, he continued the story when he saw her break away from the model.

Jack still remembered the brown, worn-out skates. He rode them across the frozen lake. He was fourteen then. He was doing quite well. No one in the village could ride so nimbly. His younger sister was just studying. She took uncertain steps. She was getting better and better. After all, she was doing it under his supervision. And yet, that afternoon, it would all end. The crunch of ice that heralded disaster was still ringing in his ears. He tried to get Mary to jump aside. Just like in Hopscotch — a game he once invented. He failed and instinctively used the staff. It was enough to push her to safety. However, he landed underwater himself. The feeling of momentary relief was replaced by shock. He tried desperately to breathe. Jack couldn't find any support for his hands. The cold seeped into his bones. He was unable to get out of the icy water. The longer he fought, the faster he lost strength. Later, in a hazy memory, he still remembered going to the bottom. Jack was surrounded by darkness and piercing cold. He closed his eyes from exhaustion. The next time he opened his eyes, the Moon was above him. Then he was spared a second life. So much time had passed, and yet the memory was still fresh. Especially after he lost them to the Black and fought to get them back.

[Reader] wordlessly placed her hand on his own. She didn't say anything but he knew she understood. It wasn't easy to forget about your death. Nor come to terms with a lost life but watching the people he loved grow old and pass away seemed the cruelest thing to him.

— They sentenced me to beheading — she said in a quiet voice.

He didn't push. He had no right to do this. He was surprised when she continued.

The story began with an ordinary day in the countryside with her boyfriend. He was a serious candidate for a fiancé. He worked as a castle assistant. Frost began to wonder exactly how many years ago the Spirit of Valentine's Day had died. If she remembered such times, she must have been older than he had previously thought. Due to these thoughts, Jack lost the thread of the story until she started talking about the theft.

Thanks to his work, the boy easily stole a jewel from a rich lord's box. As luck would have it, the family brooch would attract the attention of every neighbour in the area. Lack of sufficient caution resulted in a denunciation. The devastated [Reader] didn't know what to do. Until he said he wanted to spend the money on a wedding. Something broke inside her. Ultimately, what tipped the scales was the fact that he had a family to support. She was just an orphan working on a farm. She decided to sacrifice herself. With a heavy heart, she went to the castle, where she confessed her guilt. No one asked how on earth she could do it, since no one would even let her into the salons. Yet the court seemed satisfied. No attention was even paid to the lies and ambiguities. They omitted the absurdities contained in them. Another head-to-head trial meant a quicker break.

From the whole story, one sentence stuck in Frost's mind: I will never love anyone like I love you. This is what the thief promised to the Spirit of Valentine's Day before she sacrificed herself for him. He sensed this would be important from the way she quoted it. As if she had engraved it in her memory, somewhere deep in her mind.

— Do you know what happened when I got a second life? — she sighed. — That I died just so he could marry another woman. He waited a week. Week. Apparently he was counting on my naivety and he succeeded. — She went back to playing with the snow model.

— I'm sorry. — He wasn't sure if a cliché could do any good.

Such sentences rarely brought relief. They were repeated out of habit. Probably because people had no words for certain situations.

— You don't have to be sorry. — She smiled slightly. — You gave me a lot of joy, as befits the Guardian of Fun. I was able to see the farm where I grew up once again.

— Have you been there?

— A few times. Today there are lots of apartment blocks there. It has changed over the years. —  She shrugged and looked at him. — Do you know why I told you all this?

He thought she was trying to repay history for history. And yet this wasn't the answer she was counting on. So he fell silent.

— Because I see love differently than you. Over the course of four hundred and fifty-two years, I have encountered so many different shades of this feeling that you can't even imagine. I consoled those crying after the loss of loved ones. I have seen mothers sacrifice themselves for the sake of their children. How people die from diseases, away from their loved ones. And also how they spend their old age together and overcome problems together. That's why I think I'm a better Guardian of Love than the Spirit of Valentine's Day. I help people celebrate what is important every day. This one day of the year is not that special. So please don't interfere with my work anymore, she concluded. — I'll stay in my quarters on the 14th. This holiday will be fine without me, just like before.

— Let's say I agree, although I still think you should go out and see people having fun... — He noticed how much she wanted to interrupt him —...but I won't question the way you work anymore. Okay? — He held out his hand.

— Okay. Now let's go shout some more. Maybe they'll hear that it's time to let us go. There is absolutely nothing to do here.

***

— If this is some stupid joke, I swear you'll get an arrow up your ass… — [Reader] muttered.

Jack didn't blame her for complaining. She was blindfolded, so he led her by the hand. He didn't think this through. He should have handed it over only at the bottom of the stairs. So he had to deal with an uncomfortable situation for three floors. He even offered to let them fly with a staff but the Guardian of Love wouldn't hear of it.

— Almost there! — He removed the cloth, revealing the headquarters.

He was glad that the yetis had managed to repaint the decorations. The blue color would spoil the whole effect. Now they could admire the rows of red and pink hearts. They decorated every corner. Soft pillows in the same color were placed on the sofa and in front of it. They also managed to repair the TV. Although there was never any reception here, the player worked flawlessly. Tooth was sorting through a pile of old films. Bunny kept complaining that she only chose romantic comedies. He preferred to see a bloody horror movie. Sandy was almost asleep standing up, sending sand hearts up from time to time. Behind him, on the table, there were mixed chocolates. North was stuffing himself with them, so Frost kept the rest of his food supplies in his room. Otherwise, they might run out quickly and the fun was only just beginning.

— Why doesn't this surprise me? — The girl rubbed her temple.

— Just so we're clear, I'm not interfering with your work. —  He rested his head on his staff. — I do my duty. I jumped at the chance and we're going to have a fun evening.

He gave her his trademark smile. He was surprised to see that she didn't yell at him after all. He was secretly pleased with it, although he hadn't counted on it. She also seemed to be having a good time with her friends.

Valentine's Day night passed quickly. Hardly anyone made it to the morning. After three movies, most Guardians were teary-eyed. Jack sat between the snoring Bunny and [Reader], who was sprawled on his shoulder. He was uncomfortable but he didn't move. He didn't want to wake anyone up. The movie was still playing. Frost didn't focus on the plot. Everything that was happening started to escape him a few scenes ago. He pulled a small heart out of his sweatshirt pocket. They handed out shiny pieces of paper to each other. Everyone had to write something nice about the other person. They promised not to read them until the next day but purely theoretically the new day had already lasted for several hours. So he smiled to himself, satisfied with this justification and opened all the Valentines one by one.

Thank you.

That one word let him know he had done a good job. Maybe next year he'll be able to take her out to celebrate with others.

PS Will you be my Valentine?

This sentence, in turn, sent a rush of heat through him. He was used to embarrassing others, not being  embarassed. And certainly not like this. The matter was explained by the other side of the heart. Marked with marker:

YOU'VE BEEN FOOLED!

He promised himself that he would never admit that she was right. In the morning he will pretend that he saw it after all. This was the plan. However, somewhere in the corner of his mind there was the thought of what he would do if it wasn't a joke...

[rainbow-beanie]

ok so i had a thought..how do the doughboys deal with winter (because doey is known to not handle freezing cold very well ).... i mean i figured that dough boys would reform doey to try to keep warm...only for it to not work and doey ends up being grumpy tired and his body is covered in small cracks from the cold weather and such is body is very sore (think like a chapped lip..only all over your body and that how doey feels during winter) and because of this he is very grumpy and tired all the time and rather stay in his house (if he has one) or his room (if he is staying with someone) and stay under a mountain of blankets he has found and or kevin has "borrowed" and tries to stay warm during this miserable winter.. and only coming out because of someone dragging him out or to get some food...but its obvious to everyone that doey is freaking MISERABLE by his looks and his grumpy attitude (he trys not to snap at people...but its hard when your sore and achy all over.)...also i like the idea of alphys trying to find a solution to help poor doey...and the other monster who would also hate winter...alphys including (she lived in a area with lava...you cant convince me she wouldn't hate the cold either)

This is a good question. I’m assuming for the first weeks doey lives with the monsters everyone is quick to notice whenever doey happens to react negatively to the cold. Be it a chilly breeze that causes him to wrap his arms around himself instinctively, or even his first time eating ice cream. Which had caused him to get a stomach ache for the next few hours till the cold subtense leaves his body.

When winter inevitably comes to new new home, doey is quick to stay with toriel and frisk when she asks, since toriel would have a fireplace installed to better fit the place she lived in during her self imposed exile. She would have plenty of pillows and blankets for both frisk and him, and later Matthew Kevin and Jack once the two split up more often. As for if Doey would ever go outside during winter, initially the answer would be a firm no, but cause toriel has fire magic and most likely knows how to knit, she ends up surprising doey with a full winter outfit for him, and later smaller outfits for the dough boys. equipped with infused fire magic to help him/them to stay warm in the cold while not being hot enough to melt him.

But yes, Doey would be very sore and grumpy once the colder months start to creep up on him, but politely declines any offers of help causw he insists he can take care of himself. That is until he is forcefully dragged into the house by the motherly boss monster, who does not have the patience to deal with his reckless behavior.

[twola]

27 please oh my gosh

“Let’s for a moment -” your breathless voice rasps in-between kisses planted on your lips, “pretend ‘bout settlin’ down.”

“Hm, whereabouts?” Arthur rumbles in your ear as his lips start tracing your jawline. His skin is warm on yours, he’s spread out beside you on the rickety old bed.

Rain pounds on the dirty glass window further down the wall. Having been caught out in an autumn storm, the two of you were utterly soaked when you stumbled across this abandoned cabin. Stowing the horses under an old overhang, the two of you made your way inside, where Arthur began a fire in the old fireplace with wood from a broken chair. Wringing the water from your hair, you frown as droplets run down your elbow from your shirt.

“We should lay these clothes out and let ‘em dry.” Arthur states matter of factly as he steps away from the fireplace, unbuttoning his denim work shirt.

Your eyebrow cocks as you notice a sly grin start to peak out from under the rim of that old hat of his.

Yes, yes, that’s how you ended up here, with Arthur’s bedroll spread out beneath you, wrapped up in each other’s naked bodies.

“Dunno, somewhere quiet.” Your hand presses against his chest, the pad of your thumb finding his nipple and rubbing at it as it pebbles.

He groans against your neck, and against your belly, you feel the length of him, hard and hot and ready for you.

“Jus think,” you sigh breathily, your other hand finding the nape of his neck and letting your fingers intertwine with his hair, “A little cabin, a couple of horses, maybe a dog.”

“I’d finally make an honest woman outta you.” Arthur presses up onto his elbow and presses his lips to yours again.

“Even with a ring on my finger, you know you could never call me an honest woman.” You laugh against his smile, and his hand trails down your side to your hip, taking a greedy handful of your rear that makes you yelp playfully.

“Wouldn’t expect anythin’ less.” Arthur pulls you underneath him, desperate to continue down the lustful path the two of you were on.

Your hand lands softly upon his cheek, giving him pause. His eyes find yours, and he stops, laying his forearms on either side of your head, keeping most of his weight off of you.

“I want a baby.”

It's if lightning struck him. His eyes widen and his heart thumps loud as thunder in his chest.

“Sweetheart…” he trails off, laying his forehead down on the bedroll next to your head, and your arms encircle his shoulders, warm and gentle.

“I know it wouldn't replace your boy, but…”

He pushes himself up again, not making eye contact with you as he sits up, extracting himself from your embrace and sitting on the side of the bed, gaze trained on the fire across the room.

You rocket up to sit next to him, your hand finding his and pulling it to your lips. He lets out a long breath.

“Y’know how shitty a father I’ve been.”

“You’ve grown since then, Arthur. I've seen you with Jack. I know it would be different.”

He gives a mirthless laugh. “Ain’t any different from my own daddy. Jus’ a criminal lowlife.”

Your hand squeezes his, “Look at me.”

He turns his head slowly and your hand finds his cheek again.

“You’re kind and care about people. You try not to hurt people that don’t deserve it. We live a hard life - so do plenty of folks.”

His eyes dart downward and you tug gently at his chin to make him look back at you again.

“I…-” your voice is small as you trail off, swallowing, “All I wanna do is give you a boy with them eyes of yours to chase around. Or a girl with your smile that has you wrapped ‘round her little finger. I just… I want to give you that.”

It’s your turn to look away, suddenly regretful of even bringing your secret wish up. You retract your hand from his cheek and it slowly floats down toward your lap.

But then…

A calloused finger brushes against your collarbone. You look back up at him and drown in the depth of his blue eyes.

“No… I hope they get their momma’s looks.” Arthur whispers before leaning into to capture your lips.

The overwhelming joy in your heart rushes out like a wave crashing on the shoreline. You climb back into Arthur’s embrace and kiss him back until the both of you are breathless.

Breathless, breathless, as he tips you backward in that bed. Breathless, breathless as he presses himself inside you.

Breathless, breathless as he pours his love into you. It is not until later, with the rain still pounding against the windows as night falls, that the two of you are able to catch your breath, intertwined in the rickety old bed, drifting off into dreams of the future.

[multiverse--wanderer]

Unshaken Outlaws | Arthur Morgan x John Marston [ENG]

[ Fan-Fiction based on the OTP between Arthur Morgan and John Marston from Red Dead Redemption ] In a world where the last cowboys are ruthlessly hunted, survival is the only rule. Loyalty, fragile yet vital, is the thread that binds the outlaws together, their sole hope in a landscape marked by betrayal and constant danger. Amidst war and a passion that defies the rules, Arthur and John will find an unexpected path to redemption as their world crumbles around them. For Dutch's gang, the fight for survival has never been easy, but it becomes even more complicated when a forbidden love blossoms amid fallen bullets, lies, and deep wounds. Can this love become the sanctuary they need to withstand the coming chaos, or will it be the end of everything they know?

...

REMINDER:

This story has been written in Spanish, which is my native language. This story has been translated to the best of my ability, although it is possible that it may have mistakes.

This is just a way to transport my writing to a common language for the rest of fans like me. For a better immersion, I recommend reading the story in its original version.

You can find this story on Wattpad and Archive of Our Own.

Thank you so much for reading me and see you in the stars.

...

Chapter 1: When the Deer Saved the Wolf

Present

The storm showed no signs of letting up. The bare, rigid trees groaned under the weight of frost, and the entire landscape seemed determined to bury the men who dared challenge it beneath its white mantle. The outlaws, hidden among those same mountains, knew they were safer than ever under that icy hell, but they also understood that their safety was temporary. Nature protected no one for long; they had to move before the storm eased and the world began hunting them again.

Arthur trudged forward with difficulty through snow that reached his knees. Every step was a titanic effort, and the cabin sheltering Jack, Abigail, Hosea, and the women seemed miles away, though in reality, only a few meters separated him from it. Finally, he arrived, his face battered by the icy wind and his muscles numb. He shook off his coat, sending a dusting of snow scattering onto the wooden floor by the fireplace, where it hissed upon contact. Without waiting for an invitation, he moved toward the fire, extending his gloved hands toward the flickering flames that greeted him with an almost painful warmth.

—He's been gone for days, and it doesn't look like this storm's letting up. —Abigail's voice broke the tense silence, though her tone couldn't hide her worry—. He's strong, and he's smart. I'm sure he'll...

—Strong, yes —Arthur interrupted, arching an eyebrow with sarcasm—, but smart...

The comment made Abigail frown, but before she could respond, she glanced at Arthur, and her expression softened. The fury on her face gave way, though the restless glint in her eyes remained.

—Hi, Arthur.

—Abigail.

His response was curt, tinged with the indifference Arthur always reserved for her. By now, Abigail knew how to read him. That mask of coldness didn't fool anyone who truly knew him. Determined to break through the wall, she took a step closer, her voice dropping a notch, becoming almost sweet.

—Arthur... how are you?

He glanced at her sideways, his sharp eyes evaluating her with the resigned weariness he used when he knew someone was about to ask him for something. He'd seen that tone in her too many times. With John, it was practically a weapon, a surefire way to get what she wanted. And with him... she only used it when she needed something no one else could give her.

—Fine, Abigail. You?

—I need... —She hesitated for a moment, but Arthur didn't need to hear more. He sighed, tired of always anticipating others' needs—. Sorry to ask, but...

—It's about little John, isn't it? —His tone was bitter, almost biting—. He's gotten himself into trouble again.

Abigail's face hardened instantly. She didn't like the way he spoke about John, but she forced herself to stay composed. Her frown sought Arthur's gaze, as if daring to confront his sarcasm head-on.

—We haven't seen him in two days, Arthur.

—Your dear John will be fine —He replied with an ironic smirk—. I mean... even if he's dumber than rocks and duller than watching grass grow, a snowstorm isn't going to kill him.

The comment echoed in the room, leaving an uncomfortable silence. Hosea, seated by the fire, lifted his gaze, his expression calm but laden with authority. Arthur seemed agitated—more out of worry than anything else—but his pride wouldn't let him admit it. No matter how much he wanted to hate John, he couldn't help feeling that blend of anger and fear. Because, in the end, he cared more than he wanted to admit.

—Go check on him, at least. —Hosea intervened, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument.

Arthur grunted, frustrated. He couldn't refuse Hosea, because Hosea wasn't just a leader. He was his mentor, his father in all but blood, and the only one who truly understood the complicated relationship between him and John, even when they themselves couldn't figure it out.

—Javier, go with him —Hosea added, directing a look at the young Mexican, who immediately stood.

Javier smiled with that ever-casual air of his, but his gesture was kind as he gave Arthur a pat on the chest.

—You know, if the roles were reversed, John would do the same for us. Let's go, Arthur.

Arthur pressed his lips together, hiding his expression beneath the high collar of his coat. His gaze met Hosea's, searching for support or maybe permission to cling to his pride. But Hosea didn't relent. His silence was a tacit order: "Set your anger aside and do the right thing."

Without another word, Arthur gave a brusque nod and headed out, Javier following close behind. As they shut the door behind them, the icy wind roared with renewed fury, as if the mountain itself were challenging them to find John before it was too late.

...

CONTINUE READING THE FULL CHAPTER HERE:

[sequinsmile-x]

Mysterious and Spooky

Emily loves the holidays, and Aaron loves his wife. Which is how he finds himself standing in front of a mirror on Halloween dressed as Gomez Addams.

-x-

Hi besties,

Here is your second Halloween fic as promised <3

This is pretty much just 2.3k words of Aaron simping after his wife...which is quite fitting seeing as he's dressed as Gomez Addams for most of it.

I hope this makes you smile <3

As always, let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 2.3k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

One thing Aaron had always known about Emily was that she loved the holidays. All of them. She was enthusiastic about them in a way that initially surprised him, her enjoyment of them slightly out of line with everything else he knew about her. 

The first Christmas on the team she got everyone a stocking with their names hand-stitched onto them. Each one filled with trinkets and small gifts they would personally enjoy, her understanding of them already deep even though she’d only been on the team a handful of weeks. He still remembered the shy look on her face when she handed him his, the name Hotch embroidered on it, her smile vaguely mischievous as she explained it didn’t feel right to have Aaron put on it. 

The year after that, she had one made for Jack, and he hung it on the fireplace in his apartment next to his, a grim reminder on the days his son was with Haley that he’d allowed his family to fall apart. 

He’d always known she loved the holidays, but it was only once they were in a relationship that he realised how deep that love ran. She had fall decorations, something he wasn’t even aware was a thing until they lived together, and they were quickly replaced by Christmas decorations on November 1st. He didn’t even try and argue it, no matter how strange it felt to sit on the couch staring at a Christmas tree on his birthday, because it made her happy. And seeing Emily happy made him happier than he’d ever been.  

Jack loved her enthusiasm for them. He’d help her pick out decorations and talk excitedly with her about costumes for Halloween. Emily brought the magic to the holidays back for the little boy, his mother’s absence still notable and honoured, but no longer the centerpiece of any celebration they had. Emily’s love for Jack, her joy at bringing him joy, was another reason Aaron never argued with anything. Her love for it all was infectious, the Christmas lights on their tree each year as beautiful as he’d ever seen them when he saw them reflected in her eyes. 

It was part of the reason he proposed on Christmas Day. Dave had laughed at him when he told him his plan, calling it predictable and cliche, but it didn’t deter him. He wanted to give something back to her after everything she had given him. He bought an ornament and hid the ring in it, let it sit right in front of her for weeks as she admired the tree every day, a cup of hot chocolate in hand as she relaxed in the soft, warm light. 

She cried when he proposed, the lights once again reflecting in her eyes as she answered before he’d even asked the question. Her enthusiastic yes swallowed up by the kiss they shared, Jack excitedly bouncing up and down on the spot just a few paces away, the secret he’d kept for weeks finally out. 

It was only after their daughter Violet was born, only a few hours old and curled up on her mother’s chest, that Emily finally told him why the holidays were so important to her.  She turned her head to look at him, barely able to bring herself to tear her gaze away from their newborn, and told him that she was looking forward to her first Halloween. Her first Thanksgiving. Christmas. Easter. She smiled, tears shining in her eyes as she said she was going to make sure Violet always saw the magic in the holidays, that she had the fun she hadn’t been able to have when she was a kid. Always forced to attend her mother’s parties as if she were an ornament herself, dressed up in pretty dresses and told to be polite. He told himself then and there that he’d always do whatever she wanted during the holidays. Which is how he finds himself dressed as Gomez Addams on Halloween. 

He blows out a breath as he looks at himself in the mirror, the stripped suit he’d rented for the evening and the fake moustache making him screw up his nose ever so slightly. He runs his fingers through his gelled-down hair and grimaces at the feeling and he sighs. 

“I love my wife, I love my wife,” he whispers to himself and he steps out of the closet and into the bedroom, “Are you almost ready sweetheart…” He trails off when he sees her, losing his ability to think and speak as he takes in her outfit. Her dress is black and floor-length, tight until her hips where it flares out, strips of lace hanging from the sleeves. She’s straightened her hair for the first time in a long time, the length of it surprising him a little, and she’s wearing dark red lipstick. He clears his throat, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, somehow still surprised after all this time of the effect his wife can have on him, “You look…amazing.”  

She presses her lips together, her cheeks burning at the compliment as she steps towards him, “Thanks, honey,” she says, unnecessarily straightening his tie, “You don’t look bad yourself,” she leans in and kisses his cheek, smiling when she leaves an imprint of her lips there, the dark red lipstick standing out against his skin, “Very Gomez.” 

“Remind me again why we have to dress up for trick or treating,” he asks, his hands on her hips, the velvet material of the dress almost as soft as her skin, “We’re only going around the neighbourhood.” 

She rolls her eyes at him, “Because otherwise, the kid's outfits won’t make any sense,” she says, her smile getting wider before she steps away, “Speaking of the kids…wait here.” She walks out of the bedroom, and he hears the nursery door open, followed by Emily’s excited exclamation as she talks to their son. She’s back in the room within seconds, their eight-month-old on her hip, matching smiles on their faces as he can’t help but smile back, “Look, Sammy,” she says to Samuel, pointing at Aaron, “You and Dada have matching moustaches.” 

Samuel’s moustache was drawn on, with what Aaron assumes is one of Emily’s eyeliners, and he’s wearing a onesie with a spider emblazoned on it. Aaron can’t deny how cute he looks and he closes the gap between them, stamping a kiss on his wife’s cheek and then his son’s forehead. 

“He looks adorable,” he says, raising his eyebrow, “You’ve been busy.”

“It’s his first Halloween, Aaron,” she says enthusiastically, “And the first one where Vi really understands what’s going on. It has to be special.” 

“I know, Em,” he says, his hand on her hip as he squeezes it, directing her out of the bedroom, “Let's go see how Wednesday and Pugsley are doing.” 

She smiles at him over her shoulder as they head downstairs, “It’s very attractive to me that you did your homework and watched a few episodes.”

He grins, leaning in so only she can hear him, aware the kids could potentially overhear them, “And this outfit is very attractive to me.” 

She bites her lower lip, drawing attention to the dark red lipstick that is driving him crazy, and she tilts her head at him, “Well, let's do what all responsible parents should do on Halloween,” she leans in to kiss him, catching the corner of his lips, “Let our kids get hopped up on candy, and use the following sugar crash to our advance.”  

He squeezes her hip again, “Have I ever told you how much I love how smart you are?” 

She hums, “You can always tell me again-”

Their flirting is cut off as Jack and Violet step into the hallway from the living room, grins on their faces as they look at their parents. 

“Mom, Dad, you look so cool,” Jack says, his excitement clear as he all but bounces on the spot in his striped t-shirt and short pants, his hair slicked back just like Aaron’s. Dressing as the Addams family had been his idea in the first place, his love of the show and the movies something he’d picked up from Emily. Watching the movies together was a tradition of theirs that they’d started the first Halloween Aaron and Emily had been together. It was something just for her and Jack, and she’d made sure it stayed that way after Violet and Samuel were born. She did something with each of her children separately, building traditions she hoped they’d one day fondly look back on or continue with their own children in the future. 

“You look great too, kiddo,” Emily says, adjusting her hold on Samuel. She looks at Violet, smiling at her black dress and inspecting the braids she’d done earlier, and she’s pleased they are still in place. The 3-year-old was prone to adventure, climbing over things and chasing her older brother around, so Emily had half expected to have to redo the braids, “You look amazing too, Vi,” she says, her heart doubling in size when Violet beams at the compliment, “Remember what we said you need to finish your costume?” 

Violet furrows her brow for a moment and then gasps, nodding as she answers, “Dada face,” she says before she immediately frowns, her stern face exactly like Aaron’s as she tries to match her character’s classic expression. 

“Dada face?” Aaron asks, raising his eyebrow in confusion as he looks at Emily for an explanation. 

She clears her throat, “She said she had to look grumpy, and that meant she had to look like you. So we called it the Dada face.” 

He knows she’s joking, so it doesn’t hurt his feelings like it would if anyone else said it. The love of his family and warmth of his home not even allowing old concerns that he was too serious for Emily to even show their face. He knew she loved him for his seriousness, and their children did too. He was happy, all the time, and if he ever did come home from work with a frown on his face it would quickly melt away. 

His bemused expression pulls a laugh out of Emily, and he jokingly scoffs, faking hurt as he looks at his wife, winking at her before he grabs Violet and hauls her into his arms, drawing laughter out of her as he tickles her, the stern expression disappearing into the smile she got from her mother.  

“Dada, stop,” she laughs, and he does, stamping a kiss against her forehead as he settles her on his hip. 

“You don’t look grumpy anymore,” he says, smiling when she smiles at him. He’d been wrapped around her finger since she was born, and even before that if he was honest with himself. “Are we ready to go?” 

A chorus of excited yeses makes him smile, and he can’t help but love that his wife’s enthusiasm for the holidays has been passed on to their children.

__

Aaron yawns as he leaves the bedroom, scratching the back of his head and stretching as he seeks out his wife. It was rare for her to be out of bed before him. Even if one of the kids woke her up she’d bring them into the bed with them, and he’d wake to find Samuel, Violet or Jack asleep on her as she snuggled with them, her eyes sleepy as she rested her cheek on the top of their head. 

November 1st was a day she’d always be out of bed first, no matter what. 

He finds her in the living room just like he knew he would, huddled over a box of Christmas decorations he’d brought down from the loft when they got home from trick or treating. She’d rolled her eyes at him, insisting as always that she could have done it herself, but she’d kissed him, still dressed as Mortica as she winked at him and told him she was looking forward to the kids going to bed. 

He wraps his arms around her from behind and encourages her backwards, kissing her bare shoulder where her t-shirt had slipped down as his chest meets her back, “Morning.”

She hums and turns her head to kiss him, her hand on his cheek as she holds him in place, “Good morning,” she says, kissing him again before she turns back to the box of decorations, smiling at the stockings on top. She picks up his, and runs her fingers over the embroidered name, tracing the word Hotch as she leans back into him, “I wish you’d let me get you one with your name on it.” 

He hides his smile in her hair. It was a conversation they had every year. She’d pull the stocking she gave him years ago out of the box it lived in 10 months of the year, and she’d lament choosing to put his nickname on it all those years ago instead of his first name. 

“I love it,” he says, kissing her hairline, making a point of squeezing her hips, his fingers pressed against bruises he’d left last night, “It’s the first thing you ever gave me.” 

She turns in his arms, the stocking still in her hand, hanging over his back as she curls her hands around his neck, “Don’t you think it looks weird though? My name, and all the kids, and then just..Hotch?” 

“I think…” he says, leaning it to kiss her, “It’s us,” he smiles at her, “And anyone who tries to call it weird will be on the receiving end of my Dada Face.” 

She scrunches her nose up, “I’m not going to live that down any time soon, am I?” 

He kisses her again, pulling her impossibly closer, and then he rests his forehead against hers, “I think I’ll have let it go by the time we take the Christmas tree down.”