#and nowhere around is open this time of night

[gyuswhore]

clockwork

It all began when you noticed tiny things disappearing from your bag; notebooks, charging cables, staplers. You'd get your answer soon enough, but it seems the world enjoys watching you run around in circles.

wc: ~1.4k | contains: Jeonghan x reader, fluff, Jeonghan being a menace in multiple ways

for the @camandemstudios 'a very seventeen christmas' Secret Santa collab!

[a/n]: ring ring, @shuaflix, it's your Secret Santa calling!!! I hope you have fun reading this Alice and I can't wait to hear your thots hehe 🤍 big ty to @highvern for beta-ing and to @amourcheol for coming in clutch with vocabulary when I couldn't think of the phrase for "in full swing" KJNSFKJGNS

masterlist

Five days a week, like clockwork, you kiss your boyfriend as he sleeps in the early hours of the morning, packed and ready to leave for the library to get your work done. 

Five days a week, like clockwork, Jeonghan would emerge bleary eyed from the bedroom to the doorway where you’re slipping on your shoes, hugging you for the last time before you have to leave for the day. 

Five days a week, like clockwork, you get to the library to set up your things at your desk by the window, with just the right amount of sunlight, not right under the vent, and certainly not by the busy library entrance. 

Five days a week, like clockwork, you always seem to neglect to pack a minor need in your bag before leaving, insignificant things like an eraser or a specific charging cable, but annoying just the same. 

It didn’t take long before the sneaking suspicion of it all began to creep at your thoughts, but not a single suspect in sight or mind. 

You began to pack your bags the night before instead, double checking and leaving it beside the door before retiring for the night. The next day, you shuffle through your bag one more time, at the door right where you left it, before you’re out the door for the day. The mental checklist is all ticked and sorted, and you’re determined you’ve left nothing behind. 

Halfway through closing the front door behind you, you hear a distinct call. “Wait!” 

Jeonghan opens the door, still half asleep. One of the legs of pyjama pants have ridden up to his knees, the other side, the waistband is dropping below his underwear. Safe to say, he’s frazzled. 

He meets you at the threshold, gesturing you to let him hug you before you leave. You speak into his ear as he squeezes you tight. “You don’t have to do this everyday, Han. I promise I’ve never forgotten your good morning kisses, no matter how loud you’re snoring.”

“Hmm,” he hums but it’s more like a whine. “But you’re gonna be gone aaall daaay.”

“You big baby.”

“Kiss,” he demands as he pulls away slightly. You tiptoe and press a kiss onto his lips. He remembers to behave and keep his mouth closed; he knows how much you hate morning breath.

Just as the elevator is about to close, you hear a distinctly sleepy yell of, “And I don’t snore!”

By the time you get to the library, the good mood you’re in is largely unaffected, setting up your things in your usual spot. The hours pass in relative uneventfulness, and you’re glad about it as you return to your desk with a hole punched stack of papers. 

Sticking a hand into your bag you attempt to find the box of large binder clips you keep to tie together larger stacks of papers. Your fingers grapple onto everything but what you need, even when you quite literally empty your entire bag onto the table. 

Your seatmate, who seems to be in the deep trenches of something mathematical, is not amused. 

The tiny blue box is nowhere to be found. 

Exhaling heavily, you realise you have to deal with your predicament as it is. The idea of dealing with loose papers is not appealing, but you cannot physically staple the thick pile. 

You could’ve sworn you saw the string during your checks the night before, even this morning, right next to your pencil case on the right side of your bag. There’s no holes in your bag, nor have you left your seat to anywhere you couldn’t see it on the desk. 

But even as you deal with the loose stack of papers on the desk, attempting to refocus, there’s only one logical explanation left. It’s hard not to scoff. 

It’s been a week since you’ve been to the library, the holiday season now in full swing as you retire for the semester. 

Christmas mornings with Jeonghan usually turn into Christmas afternoons, taking full advantage of the errand-less day. By the time you do emerge from the den that is your bedroom, the sun is high in the sky, and Jeonghan is in the process of ordering takeout. 

There’re boxes under the tree, beside which the both of you seat yourselves as you wait for your food. 

You hand him his present, which is flat for the most part. He unwraps the paper and opens the box, only to find a large envelope inside. 

Jeonghan laughs, “Does handing me an envelope need to be this elaborate?”

“I can’t wrap an envelope,” you pout. 

“Right. Because it’s already wrapped,” he chortles. He rips it open to find yet another piece of paper. 

“Medieval dining experience?” Jeonghan reads off the reservation. 

“Brick walls, candle lights and everything. Knights with swords too.” His eyes light up as he registers the swords. 

When he hands you your present, you note that he has three separate packages next to him. 

It’s a polaroid camera, one that you’ve been wanting for a while. However, it looks like it’s already been opened as you take out the camera. He hardly lets you look at it and thank him properly before he’s shoving another box in your direction.

Unwrapping it reveals a scrapbook. Of polaroids. Of Jeonghan’s face. Full of Jeonghan’s face. It’s almost like he ran an entire reel of film dry with the amount of photos in the book. 

“Gently used,” Jeonghan provides. “By me.”

It earns him a big fat kiss, so you suppose he succeeded. 

But there’s one package left, a slightly bigger box that notably rattles as Jeonghan slides it over to you. “Unofficial present.”

You look justifiably confused. Undoing the wrapping paper, all you hear is things rattling around in the box, and you wonder what it could possibly be. 

The box is…a shoebox? The Nike logo glares back at you as you stare. But you don’t recall a pair of shoes ever being this noisy. 

Opening it reveals everything. Quite literally, everything. 

There’s a white stapler with purple flowers on it, a number of white, hardly used erasers, the distinct coil of a charging cable, and…a tiny blue box. Amongst other things. 

Everything that’s mysteriously disappeared from your bag these past months, lies in the shoebox. 

“Sorry,” Jeonghan says, but the smile on his face proposes that he’s far from it. 

You look at the contents of the box, and then back up at him. This repeats for a few minutes as you gape at the situation. 

“W–Why?” You can’t help but release a laugh at the ridiculousness of the ordeal. 

Jeonghan shrugs. “I hoped you’d miss your stuff enough to come back home. Or just start studying at home entirely.”

You stare at him as he picks at the tufts of rug beneath him. “You were gone all day. I just missed you.”

He looks up at you, hint of a smile on his face. “I know I said I was sorry, but I’m not really.”

Surging forward, your arms find his neck as you push yourself onto his lap, holding him tight. “Kinda figured you weren’t. It’s okay.”

Letting go, you bring your lips up to his to kiss him, properly. He pulls you closer, his hands firm on your hip and back. His mouth moves against your own, engulfing you in ways beyond just physical touch. 

Pulling away for a moment, you mumble against his lips, “Just say you miss me next time.”

Jeonghan smiles against your mouth, “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

It was a strange way to communicate, to let you know to take it easy, to spend more time within his vicinity, because he considered your mere presence near him as spending time with you. Jeonghan didn’t ask for much, as opposed to his nature as it sounded. He was a simple man, who simply wanted time with you. 

However, even after the semester resumes, and you leave the house for significantly less stretches of time than before, there are times where your bag suddenly ceases to carry things you’re positive you packed. 

But this time, all it evokes is a smile, and a mellow reminder that there’s a warmth of someone’s arms waiting for you. 

[highvern]

Nights Like These

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: fluff, neighbor!au, Nightwing! mingyu based off this, bartender reader

warnings: very dumb people (mingyu x reader), suggestive but no explicit smut

Length: ~2k

Note: merry gyumas!!!!! this is revenge for spider woo from @gyuswhore if you hate it, it's bc i wrote it in like 3 hours. thank u @the-boy-meets-evil i will be enacting my revenge on you soon. MWAH!

summary: On nights when you close the bar late, a friendly hero always happens to be around to walk you home and share his woes about the crush on his neighbor.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

With the rain pounding down in thick sheets, you rush home. On nights like these, when you're the last one out of the bar, completely alone, are always the worst. The bus doesn’t run this late but at least you’re only a few blocks from your apartment. A ten minute run if you don’t stop.

The rain abruptly halts. Not that you’re lucky enough for the storm to pass but because someone falls into step beside you. “Need an umbrella?”

You don’t even need to look to know who it is. He always shows up when you have the closing shift. The man who runs around the city in a spandex suit and calls himself Nightwing. 

The first time, some creep had been trailing you from a distance. Thankfully, most of the businesses on the way back to your apartment stayed open later, the nice apartments have doormen so you could run into one at a moment's notice. But as soon as you noticed the weight of a gaze on your back it vanished with a short scuffle. When you turned to find the source of noise, Nightwing stood guard as the creep spirited away.

From that night on, if you got off after midnight, he was there to escort you home. 

The first few times he followed from a distance. A couple yards, then ten feet and then one night you waited for him to walk beside you like a normal person. Most nights you were too exhausted to make conversation but he kept you both entertained, asking easy questions or staying silent if you were particularly irritated. But usually, on those nights you felt his eyes on you from one of the alleys you passed, or from the rooftops. He gave you space but kept you safe. Even when you insisted there were far better things for him to do in a city that never sleeped. People who needed him more. But Nightwing shook you off each time.

“This storm came out of nowhere,” you say, huddling closer. He’s big, taking up most of the space by default. You try not to touch him but the heat of his body is pleasant considering your soaked clothes, chilled straight to the bone.

“Yeah, downtown is already flooded.”

“Already walked all the other girls home there?”

“Ha-ha,” he huffs. “I actually work in an office there.”

Oh. In all the nights he’s chaperoned you home, he’s been careful not to reveal too much about himself but some things naturally slip out. He wants a dog but is never home enough to take care of it. One of his friends burnt a fish in his apartment and wasn’t allowed to come back. He tried reading some of the books you talked about but wasn’t a big reader. This is the first time he’s offered information so personal.

“So even superheroes have day jobs?”

“Gotta pay rent somehow.”

“Maybe take up being a security guard. Or Uber but walking women home late at night.”

“Nah,” he smiles, a flash of white teeth between pink lips. “I do that for free. Part of the job.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Sometimes you think maybe he likes walking with you. But as he said, it’s a part of his job. His civic responsibilities to protect the street from creeps and weirdos. Besides, the only other personal information you know about him is the fat crush he has on the girl in the apartment next to him.

“How's your neighbor?” you ask.

“She’s okay. Still acts like I don’t exist.”

“I doubt that’s true.”

“You said she’d like it if I gave her something I cooked, I did.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

“Damn.”

You think of your own neighbor and how grateful you are that he does something similar. Mingyu was overall, a great neighbor. Grabbed your packages from the mailroom and left them on your doormat when he could, shared food if he made too much which was frequently, and managed to keep his rowdy friends quiet when they were over. But you typically only spoke to him in passing. Strictly neighborly. How are you? They didn’t pick up the trash today? Can I borrow some salt? By the way, I made an entire pot of spaghetti and I cannot eat it alone. Want some?

Recently he offered more and more. A blessing really because by the time you got off work you were too exhausted to cook and too broke to justify paying for the fees for delivery. Everytime he offered you food though you weren’t sure what to do with the tupperware. He was rarely home when you were; conflicting schedules. Last time he brought you the extra brownies from his office party. The tote bag full of clean containers sat next to your door for whenever you saw him but lately he’d been MIA. 

Maybe Nightwing’s neighbor felt the same way. If he had a job and ran around town at all hours it was unlikely there was a good time for them to talk.

“Have you tried asking her out?”

“Yes.”

“And?” Your shoulder brushes his arm but you ignore the contact. Not like you can feel much with the numbness from the freezing rain.

“No luck.”

“Maybe she’s shy.”

He levels you with a look meaning that clearly isn’t the problem. For a second you wonder what he looks like without the mask. The tiny scrap of blue, black, and white obscuring so much. Obviously, he’s handsome. Maybe she’s a little intimidated. You would be. Even if his neighbor didn’t know who he really was, he had an aura around him. 

And even if he wore baggy clothes, they wouldn’t hide his physique or height.

But you can’t dwell on those thoughts because then you think of your neighbor who is also tall and muscular, and somehow reminds you of a golden retriever.

“Well, you seem normal enough. Even though you wear a weird amount of spandex for a grown man.”

He laughs, the edges of the umbrella shaking with him and exposing you back to the elements but you don’t mind. The sound is rich and warm, forcing the chill away. “What is a normal amount of spandex?”

“Probably zero,” you joke. “Maybe you should just ask her out. Honesty is the best policy or whatever.”

“Or whatever. I’ll remember that.”

“Well,” you sigh. The front of your apartment is in view. Nightwing will wait until you’re inside to leave, tucked safely behind the glass door and up the stairs out of sight. He hands you the umbrella for the last fifteen feet he always refuses to accompany you, and disappears out of sight.

You don’t tell anyone who walks you home at night. It’s a nice little secret between you and the city’s hero. But sometimes you wished you could. If only to explain how confusing it is that Nightwing reminds you of Mingyu. A bizarre thought. Mingyu is an architect and hardly has the time for a pet, let alone to save the city every night. You leave the thought at the threshold of the stairwell.

The trek upstairs takes longer than you’d like. Five flights of stairs down is a lot easier than five flights up and with your limbs just now warming up, it's a process to rally enough energy to climb even the first few. Good thing is with it being so late, you aren’t at risk of holding up a line to the top. 

By the time you reach the third floor, the sensation returns to your extremities. By the fifth, the only thought in your head is a shower and the cozy warmth of your bed. 

As you reach the final steps, shuffling like a zombie, the universe decides your night isn’t over yet.

Your neighbor, hair washed from a shower, white shirt and pajama pants wrapped around his figure, emerges from the opposite staircase, where the trash chute is. Maybe you have a crush on Mingyu but half the building does too. He’s a good neighbor, he’s nice, and he’s handsome. 

Okay, maybe it’s a big crush and you can’t figure out if he’s just nice or if all the nice things he does mean a little bit more. You should probably ask Nightwing what he thinks the next time he walks you home. He’s a guy, he’d know.

But right now, Mingyu gets to see your best impression of a drowned rat.

Lovely.

“Hey,” he says. His door is at the top of the stairs you just climbed, and yours at the top of the stairs he just climbed. When you pass by, you can’t help but get a whiff of his body wash. Cedar, citrus, and soap mingling pleasantly. 

You grunt in response. “Hey, Mingyu.”

“Late night?”

“Something like that.”

You both stand in the hallway, waiting for something else to say but nothing comes up. Somewhere below a door slams and the patter of feet echoes through the stairwell.

Mingyu turns away first. “Well, good night.”

“Wait!” you call, cringing at the harsh reverb of your voice.

He whips around, eyes wide, cheeks rosy. Like a little kid with their hand stuck in the cookie jar.

“I have your containers! I’ve been meaning to give them back.”

“Oh.” He deflates slightly but you pay no mind. 

You shove the metal of your apartment door open and rummage through your kitchen for the tote full of plastic containers. When you exit, Mingyu is waiting on your doormat, hands in his pockets.

Racking your brain for something – anything – to say, you blurt. “Um, the brownies you made were great.”

That pleases him. Behind the thick rim of his glasses his eyes soften, cheeks lifting from a shy smile. “Thanks. It’s my mom’s recipe.”

“That’s nice.”

Neither of you move. Content rather than awkward. At your back, the rain pounds against the windows, thunder clapping, an occasional streak of lighting. A dull lullaby.

“Hey,” he starts. “Would you ever wanna hangout? Like a date?”

You couldn’t have heard that right. 

“A date?” you parrot.

“Or not! It doesn’t have to be a date if you’re not interested or…”

“A date sounds nice,” you grin, cheeks bursting. “What are you doing in thirty minutes?”

“Watching Survivor.”

“I’ll bring the popcorn. I just need to shower really quick.”

Mingyu blinks like he can’t believe any of it. Like you agreeing to hangout with him was never an actual option or that this entire thing is a fever dream. It’s cute. 

“Ugh—” he swallows. “Yeah! Okay. Just…knock wherever!”

Tucked away in the steam of the shower, you scrub and shave and scrub again. Feeling a little more human with each minute. You don’t bother with make up or anything fancy. Mingyu asked you out with mascara running down your cheeks in the hideous shirt the bar makes you wear. The bar is incredibly low. 

Settling on some sweats and a hoodie, you make the trip down the hall to 6F and knock just like Mingyu said. You sit a safe distance away on the couch but like two magnets you and Mingyu draw closer and closer until his arm is over your shoulder with a pretend stretch and you’re nodding off against his chest.

At some point, you both move to his bed. Or Mingyu asks and carries you across his apartment when you nod. His bed sounds like a great idea. The storm clears by the time you wake up. The first thing you do when Mingyu blinks awake, arm curled around your back like you considered leaving, is leave a gentle kiss on his jaw. 

You give him a better one as a thank you for coffee, and another when he makes pancakes. He lifts you onto the counter, taking place between your knees as thanks for the perfect whip cream smiley face decorating said pancakes. 

Next time you see your spandex clad friend, you’ll have to let him know honesty really is the best policy.

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[snoringkitty1]

Here for you

always

　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

The nights like usual were peaceful and pleasant, faint lights peered through the curtain of the bedroom, but it wasn't enough to stir you, or the man you were slumbering next to.

Harumasa Asaba of Section 6, his face slightly squished against his pillow as his brows furrowed in his sleep. Clearly, for him, the night wasn't quite as peaceful as it usually was.

His heart beat against its cage as if it were seeking an escape from the hellscape in his head. You only woke up because he stole most of the blanket when he rolled over, and you had gotten cold.

You opened your eyes, in your half asleep state you tried to snuggle closer to him but he subconsciously pushed you away. You sat up and scowled before seeing his expression, pain and desperation painted all over his face.

"Haru-" you whispered hurriedly, patting his chest and moving the blanket off of him in case he started running a fever. You looked at the medicine on his nightstand and sighed before returning your focus to him.

He flinched at the slightest touch, but suddenly his eyes shot open and he gasped, his golden eyes stared at the ceiling for a moment before they flickered to you. The was silence between you two before he sat up and pulled you into a sudden, but very secure and tight hug.

Your eyes widened before you pulled him close and buried your face in the crook of his neck. "Nightmares..?" you inquired, frowning when he nodded and sniffled. "I-it was..so vivid-- i thought.." he murmured and squeezed you tighter.

"I thought i had..hurt you- killed you, even.." he let out a shaky sigh before leaning back and holding your face. "All the color in your face was gone.." seeing Harumasa so distraught had become a thing as of late. His nightmares had become more frequent ever since the two of you moved in together.

He pestered you until you gave in, he was always anxious about a hollow popping up out of nowhere where you lived and him not being able to do anything about it. It was reasonable, so you gave in, but now his nightmares only seemed to get worse for no reason.

You held his hands against your face and smiled at him, "Haru, i'm safe and sound," you began and kissed his palms "I'm in your arms, your bed, your house. And you, i know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me, ever.."

His brows knit and he shook his head, his hands reaching to cover the puncture scars on his neck. "But it wasn't me..i was- a monster.." at the mention of becoming a monster, his panic only seemed to worsen terribly.

You wrapped your arms around him again and squeezed to help bring him back down to earth, he was doing all he could not to cry. "How about this.." you leaned back and buttoned up his shirt a little before pecking the corners of his eyes.

"Let's take a quick visit to the kitchen, i'll make you some tea, and we can watch TV on the couch until we fall asleep?" you offered and kissed his cheeks. His golden eyes softened before he sighed and nodded, "Don't put so much sugar in it this time.." he chuckled softly and poked your cheek.

You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him before getting up and pulling him out of bed. He groaned dramatically and slumped forward onto you, laughing as you grumbled and tried your best not to shove him off and back onto bed.

"Carry me..~" He mused as a joke, chuckling as you rolled your eyes and he stepped back. "You have two feet and a heartbeat, get to walking." he laughed and scratched the back of his head as he walked passed you.

You smiled to yourself and followed him, eventually slipping your hand into his and pulling it up to kiss his knuckles. Despite his line of work, his hands and fingers were smooth and soft, if not for his archer's gloves, he'd likely have a few more callouses.

When you both reached the kitchen, you let go of his hand and walked over to the tea kettle and prepared to brew him something that would help him fall asleep again. He didn't linger far from you though, he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms as he watched your fill it with tea leaves and water.

He didn't have his iconic yellow headband on, and his hair was a mess, it was oddly endearing and attractive to see him in a sleepy, casual state. Oh, how many people would kill to be in your position right now.

He was busy undoing the buttons that you did up minutes prior, looking over to you while you turned the stove on. He smirked and slipped behind you, his arms making their way around your waist as he pulled you away from the counterside.

"Haru, what are you up to now?" You asked before suddenly he turned you around and leaned forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder, his arms tightening around your waist. "Just stay right here.." he hummed softly, making you chuckle "yes sir.."

He smiled, beginning to slowly sway with you in the kitchen. It was quiet, there was no music, yet he didn't seem bothered and continued to sway with you. "Thank you.." he whispered just under his breath. You didn't receive sincere thank you's from him often, so hearing it made you smile, "I'm happy to help.."

You wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back, his white button up shirt was all wrinkled from how he was tossing and turning thanks to his nightmares. "You should go round up all the pillows and blankets in the living room and make a nice little spot for us to cuddle." you hummed and kissed the side of his head.

"Heh, yes ma'am." he chuckled and leaned back to give you a brief kiss before he turned away completely. You watched him go for a moment, covering your mouth and giggling. He was immature and childish at times, but your found his dorkus behavior endearing at the right moments.

You focused on getting mugs out for the tea, and other various things to put in your tea. "Tea is almost done Haru." you called, looking over and seeing him holding all the blankets he could find in one big ball. He smiled at you and nodded before tossing the blankets on the couch, making a cozy nest out of them, and jogging over to you.

"You didn't put a bunch of sugar in it to mess with me again, right?" he inquired and looked at the kettle with a wary look before he kissed the side of your head and turned away to pour the tea. "Nope, the goal is to get you back to sleep, not having you bouncing off the wall." you crossed your arms.

He chuckled and set the kettle back on the stove, fixing your tea just how you liked it, apparently from memory it seems before he handed it off to you. "C'mon, we got movies to watch~" he cooed, as if he wasn't going to doze off in the first ten minutes.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, the two of you making your way to the couch, getting snuggled up and comfortable. The TV was already playing something quietly, so you two just got to relax and drink your tea.

Asaba rarely was so relaxed, something was always occupying his mind, even when he was supposed to be relaxing at home on his 'sick' leave. Typically it was his illness that kept his mind busy, even in his sleep.

Even now, he was likely think about that nightmare considering he was holding you about as tight as he holds his bow in the middle of a fight. "Asaba." you began, he looked over and tilted his head, "My first name? Must be serious~" he grinned and waited for you to continue.

You sighed and leaned close to peck his lips to shut him up for a minute, "If you had turned into an ethereal, i would kill you." you stated and his eyes widened. "I wouldn't let you die knowing you had been the death of me, literally." you chuckled and kissed his lips again.

"..How do you manage to read my thought all the time?" he whined and lowered his head, "Thank you..i'd much prefer i die over you." he hummed and squished your cheeks, his somber attitude shifting. "Now~ keep your pretty mouth closed, and lets watch the movie." he grinned.

You giggled and nodded, "Yes sir." you stuck your tongue out at him and he let go of your face and leaned back and sipped his tea.

Silence filled the space, and eventually you finished your tea and he finished his, the two of you now content and sleepy all over again. The movie became white noise, helping the two of stay asleep.

Thanks for reading

[susicheng]

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ dm for prices      l.mk

chapter 6 perfect match

something that you pride yourself on is your easygoing nature. you're nonchalant. you don't really care what people think of you. it was honestly relieving, to exist in peace and not stress over every minuscule interaction you have throughout the day.

now, though, that nonchalance was nowhere to be found. it was just mark lee, seriously, what was the big deal? sure, he would be inside of your apartment. sure, you're also so attracted to him you may or may not have already had your fair share of wet dreams that can never, EVER be mentioned around ten lee (you knew he would never let you live them down). it's not like you guys were going to go at it like rabbits. he was just a guy coming over to watch spiderman movies with you. no biggie. 

a knock at the door startled you out of your thoughts. with one final glance at the mirror, you turned to welcome your (kind-of) drug dealer into your apartment. the door swung open to reveal mark lee, in all of his glory, carrying multiple grocery bags in either hand.

"hey, mark. i told you that you didn't need to bring anything." you reached out to take some of the bags from his hands, pointedly ignoring how domestic and natural it felt between the two of you to behave in such a way. 

"i know, it just felt wrong to come empty handed. it's just some more snacks and some drinks haha" he toed his shoes off and fully entered your apartment, shutting the door behind himself. "thanks for having me over, by the way."

"don't say that yet, you might be begging to escape later" you glanced up at him with a smile on your face, finding the same expression mirrored on his own face "i get more serious about marvel than you might be prepared for."

"little do you know, i'm so serious about spiderman that it's been banned at our friend group's movie nights."

"sounds like we're the perfect match then."

you had both gathered small snack plates, filing into your bedroom (ohmygod mark lee in your bedroom. getting into your bed. holy shit. you did not think this part through). the deep breath that you had to suck in was mildly humiliating, but the way mark almost tripped over a stray cinnamoroll plush on the ground was more humiliating, so you took that as a win. 

you felt comfortable with him. it wasn't necessarily surprising that you had managed to become so friendly with him in a short period of time, but it was surprising that you already wanted him this badly. you might need to stage an intervention for yourself, because there was no reason mark lee should look that good curled up in your bed, watching intently as tom holland flys across the screen. 

you could see why these movies were banned in his friend group, with mark's frequent commentary and analyses cutting into the movie. if you weren't so obsessed with his voice and his semi-alarmingly in depth theories, you might have even been annoyed. instead, this was filed away in your brain as "top 10 cutest things mark lee has ever done." 

you had a feeling you would be adding on to that list quite a lot in the coming weeks.

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⊹₊⟡⋆ mel's corner: sorryy for such a delayed update ahhh! the holidays + work are keeping me booked and busy but thank you all so much for your patience <3

© susicheng .. please do not copy, reupload, or translate my work

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[the-californicationist]

Happy Holidays Cali, hope the holidays are treating you well.

I'm curious though, how do you think the 141 would treat you for the holidays? :)

Four Calling Birds

Gaz would be the classic Christmas romantic. The house has lights, the hedge has lights, the bins have lights. There’s a big Santa in the garden, and you’ve got three trees - all real and hand cut. The whole house smells like oranges and clove and balsam and cinnamon. You come home one evening, exhausted from work, and there he is, standing in your way, pointing straight up at the mistletoe, smiling like a fiend.

“Is that real?” You ask, reaching up to the hanging leaves in wonder, your fingers coming back coated in glitter.

“Yep,” he said smugly, wrapping you up in his arms, “Cut it myself.”

“Kyle,” you tried to protest, eager to set your bag down and get out of your clothes.

But, he took your head in his hands, lifting your mouth to kiss him, letting his full, soft lips take your breath away. Then, you felt your bag fall off of your shoulder, and you were dragged into the hallway, stumbling but weightless, lifted and carried in his huge arms. You were dizzy from his kisses, drunk on him, weak from the weight of the day. You opened your eyes and watched him shove his way into the bedroom, and you pulled your mouth away from his to gasp.

“Kyle!”

“What?” He stared down at you, playing innocent with his sweet smile.

“The ceiling! Have you lost your mind?”

All over the ceiling of your bedroom, boughs and boughs of mistletoe hung glittering from a series of carefully strung lattice, covering the whole room in its emerald green canopy.

“Mmm,” he sighed, dragging his hot mouth down your neck, “Looks like you owe me a few more kisses, babes. Some here,” he kissed your cheek, “Some here,” he kissed your mouth, “Some here,” he tugged down the neck of your top, suckling on an exposed nipple, “…and definitely some here.” His free hand writhed its way into your trousers and cupped the warm flesh of your crotch, that naughty mouth grinning as you sighed into him.

It took six months to get the glitter out of the rug.

🎄🩷🎄🩷🎄

Johnny wasn’t much of a decorator, but the tree you did have was full of handmade ornaments from all of his many nieces and nephews. For him, it was all about spending time with family.

Christmas was the only reason you had bought this farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere. Six bedrooms lay empty for 358 days out of the year, but when the week of Christmas came around, you had MacTavishes up to your eyeballs. His oldest sister, her husband, her three kids, and their ancient sheltie all piled into your home in a laughing, screaming, tumbling bunch. His second sister, her wife, their two sets of twins, and their entire collection of foster children, a growing lot each year, all spilled in after them, well-mannered and armed with gifts and toys galore. His ma and da, each with their own fat corgi and hunched over their canes, made their way straight to the kitchen to start cooking meals like they were fighting some sort of battle with your pots and pans. Your whole home smelled like spice and savory meats within minutes, and when they left, it always seemed cleaner than when it had started.

And there was Johnny, right in the middle of them, shining like a star, tugging you around the house with him, singing and playing and dancing and celebrating every delightful bite. He always had a baby in his arms, and sometimes he was balancing two in his lap, covered in torn paper crowns and smeared with shortbread flour from messy little hands.

But, in the night, when all was quiet, he would move himself over you, pulling at your clothes like you were wrapped in paper, his very own gift. He shushed your protests, not willing to worry with you about whether someone might hear.

“Dinnae fash yersel’, bonnie. They all ken how bairns are made. Wouldnae it be grand to give the wee’uns another cousin to play with? C’mon, lass, lemme give you a wee MacTavish for Christmas.”

You were going to need a bigger house.

🎄🩷🎄🩷🎄

Simon never really grew up with much of a Christmas, so your home lacked the glittering splendor of that of his sergeants. But, there were some things that were absolutely non-negotiable.

You had to drag out his scrawny, leaf bare tree from the attic. It was barely three feet tall, but he wouldn’t hear of buying another one. The star looked rusted, and half the lights didn’t work, but he made sure the bottom of it was always covered in thoughtful presents for you to open.

There had to be a Yule log. He wouldn’t hear of buying another gas fireplace, and he insisted on burning it right in the hearth, always good to sweep the ashes away when he was done.

And, above all else, there had to be The Pudding. It wasn’t homemade like the MacTavishes’. It wasn’t fancy like the Garricks’. It had to be the cheap one from the local Lidl for 80p. The Favorina six-month matured Christmas pudding was the star of the show, and your cupboards were full of them. You’d never seen a man take down so many individually packaged cakes before. He was like a machine. He’d come home, pull you into his lap, flip on the telly, and give you a needy look.

For once, it wasn’t your warm cunt he was begging for. No. Simon Riley was begging for another cheap pudding that you “shared” between you. You’d take the first polite bite, and he’d house down the rest like a starving dog, his mouth sticky from the sweet fruits and his breath hot from the bottom-shelf brandy.

Then, he would kiss you, groaning into your mouth, pulling you the rest of the way onto his lap, tasting like sultanas and cigarettes, choking you with his invading tongue.

“Si…” You panted, trying to escape, “Let me brush my teeth. I taste like figgy pudding, you nutter.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

You set a trap this year, and when you pulled a spare pudding out of the freezer one random day in July, you thought he’d never take his hands off of you.

🎄🩷🎄🩷🎄

John Price never once asked for presents for Christmas. He didn’t want gifts, and he would get so cross when you bought things for him even though he showered you with trinkets throughout the season. But, his apartment was never decorated. You wondered if he was a bit of a Scrooge. But then, you overheard him talking with his sergeant, telling him the only thing he wanted for the holiday was a beach with the missus, and you decided it was your turn to be Santa Claus.

One night, when John dragged himself through the doorway past quitting time, he noticed a big red arrow, cut out from craft paper, pasted on the floor. Then, a few feet in front of him, there was another. He frowned, setting down his bag and following the arrows cautiously through the house. It led him straight to the bedroom, and there you were, wrapped in nothing but a ribbon, tied up with bows, sitting on the middle of the bed with a box in your hands.

“Wha’s all this, then?” He smiled at your lack of attire, toying with the end of the ribbon and threatening to pull it away.

“Open your present, John,” you smiled, handing him the box.

“I told you, love, I don’t wa—“

“Open it,” you cut him off, pushing the box forward.

He twisted his mouth into a disgruntled grimace, but you knew he couldn’t stay mad at you for long. When he pulled the box apart, his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in confusion.

“What…”

He pulled out the plane tickets and inspected them further, trying to make sense of what you had done. You shrugged, rubbing his shoulders,

“I told Kate you needed some leave. So, we’re off to Fiji.”

“Fiji…” He breathed in disbelief, his blue eyes pinning you in place.

“Fiji,” you smiled, pulling the bow that covered your heavy tits off the rest of the way, “Private beach, palm trees, no cell service…”

He let the box fall to the floor and climbed over you, forcing you onto your back as his huge body bullied you beneath him. John’s voice was gravelly and low when he said,

“I don’t know what’s got me harder, love. Seein’ you all wrapped up like this, or the fact that I thought I just heard you say: no cell service.”

You gave him a wicked grin and leaned your mouth up to graze across the shell of his ear, whispering,

“No cell service.”

His hips thrust against you, spreading your legs apart from the force, making your soft skin scrape against the harsh canvas of his pants, burying his mouth against your neck, threatening you,

“Say it again, baby.”

“No… cell… service.”

By the end of your holiday, you were sunburnt, and you could barely walk straight, but you couldn’t remember having a better Christmas.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Christmas with you - Part 1

A/N: Happy Holidays everybody! Hope everyone’s bundled up and safe. A special shoutout to @ccbsrmsf1 for helping me throughout this story, her ideas inspired me to writing this. Thank you 💛

Pairing: Tony Stark x Single Mom! Reader

Warning: Fluff. Tony is adorable 🥹

.

“Shit!”

Punching the bonnet of your car out of frustration, you huffed, watching your breath form a misty, tiny cloud of condensation before dissipating into the cold, night air.

“Shit.”

Your eyes went wide as you heard a quiet repetition of your cuss word followed by a giggle from inside your car.

“We don’t say that word, Noah. Only Mommy is allowed to say it.”

Your three year old made a face that made you smile despite you trying your hardest not to. He had a tendency to do that, make you smile, laugh and giggle at your lowest. He truly was the light of your life.

And right now, he was your only company considering you were officially stranded in the middle of nowhere with an old car that had finally given up. Your phone had run out of juice hours ago, thanks to your attempts at keeping a three year old entertained on a very long drive back home.

Now you had no way of calling for help. Lucky for you, the walk would take twenty minutes, but the down side? It was snowing. A lot.

Getting back in your car, you faced your son and explained him the situation as best as you could.

“We walk home, Mommy?”

“We have to, honey. We can come back for the car tomorrow. Come on, let’s get you bundled up.”

Zipping his jacket up, you secured it in place, putting on his little gloves and beanie as well. Luckily you had his stroller in the car, which took some convincing to get him into it but soon you were off, trudging through snow while pushing the stroller.

Noah hummed to himself the entire way back, making you laugh as he belted out rhyme after nursery rhyme.

Suddenly out of the blue you heard a crash sound as something heavy and metallic landed to your right. Figuring it was someone rather than some thing, you were contemplating going out there and offering help until your three year old began kicking his feet and screaming.

“It’s Iron Man! Mommy, look! It’s Iron Man!”

He was right.

Tony Stark or more famously, Iron Man had just crash landed about a hundred feet from you.

Lifting the face plate, Tony groaned, his body still in shock from impact. That is until he heard a tiny voice screaming his name, diverting his attention temporarily.

“Hi Iron Man!” Noah exclaimed, not bothered about the fact that he had caught his favourite superhero in a less than ideal situation.

With small bruises and cuts all over his face, Tony turned around to see Noah, managing a small wave back until he saw you. Pausing to take you in, he momentarily forgot where he was.

You were beautiful.

The kind of beauty that he wasn’t used to, not the skimpy-clothed, giggly women that usually clung to him in social situations. No. You seemed different.

“Huh?” He blinked, realising he had spent an unnatural amount of time staring at you, and that you had said something.

“I asked if you were alright, Mr. Stark.”

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he looked back to where his suit lay, now completely decimated, he would need a power source to boot it back to life.

“Yeah, uh. I’m—I’ve had a fall. And my suit is well, pretty much useless.” Following it with a small laugh, he shrugged, shifting his gaze from you down to where Noah sat, starry-eyed and open-mouthed having come face to face with his idol.

“This is my son, Noah. And I’m Y/N.” You offering him a small smile.

“Tony.” He knelt down to greet your son, shaking his little hand like a gentleman after yours.

“Very firm handshake, young man.” He winked at him, leaving him more starstruck than before.

“I’d offer to help but our car broke down and we’re walking home, so…pretty much a bad day for all of us, huh?” You chuckled.

“Can he come home, Mommy? I can help with his suit!” Noah piped, looking up at you with expectant eyes, knowing fully well you could never deny him.

“Our house is still pretty far out, baby. But it’s upto Mr. Stark, I mean, I have tools that could help? I don’t know. But you could definitely use some first aid and some warmth?”

As if on cue, Tony shivered, the long-sleeved shirt he wore doing nothing to prevent the cold from seeping in. He was also bleeding from a few cuts and bruises, that pushed him further to accept your offer.

“And hot chocolate!”

“Ah, how could I ever refuse hot chocolate? With marshmallows?”

“Yeah!!”

Both of you chuckled as your son clapped his hands, happy now that his hero was accompanying you home.

Dragging his disabled suit through the snow was a task, but he trudged on, not minding the company for a change. Normally, he’d have been flocked with fans or security but here, nobody seemed to care. Not that there were too many passersby but those that were around, couldn’t care less about who he was.

The conversation flowed easily as you walked home, from formal introductions to your profession, from likes, dislikes to your opinion on world politics. You couldn’t help but notice how easy he was to talk to, and that your first impression of the man had been wrong. Of course, the media had a lot to do with it. Portraying him as a spoilt billionaire at first, then the brash Avenger with a playboy image.

Noah’s singing provided as background music until his voice gradually stopped, meaning he was out cold. A day out with his grandparents had finally worn him out even though he’d just met his idol.

As your house came in sight, you retrieved your keys from your purse, while Tony looked around, frowning when he saw the lights all out.

Did you live alone? Tony kicked some snow with his foot, making an assumption you were already taken but secretly hoping you weren’t.

“Wouldn’t your husband or partner mind if you suddenly show up with an Avenger?” He asked, glancing back at the tracks you’d left along with the ones made due to his suit. One could assume someone had dragged a body along the way.

“Hmm, that’s a good question.”

You continued unlocking the door, your back to the man who was peeking in the stroller to make sure your son hadn’t woken up, partly to distract himself.

“I’m sure if I had one, he wouldn’t mind seeing the great Tony Stark in his house. But I don’t so, I guess you’ll have to do with me and my starstruck three year old.”

Tony’s nervous chuckle held relief as you welcomed him inside your humble space, grateful for the instant warmth your cosy home provided.

Tony took in your smartly done interiors and evident display of a house with a small kid, accidentally knocking over a piece of Noah’s toy in the process.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark! Are you alright?”

He picked up Noah’s toy robot, giving it a curious but impressed glance.

“Oh yeah, no harm done. And it’s Tony, please.”

His fingers brushed yours lightly as he passed you the toy, the touch sparking excitement within you. He cleared his throat in attempts to get both your gazes off of your hands.

“Alright Tony, let me get you a first-aid kit and then maybe you can tell me what you need to fix your suit?”

“Right. Sure, thanks.” Giving himself a mental shake, he perched on your sofa and settled.

Right as he leaned back against the plush fabric, a loud noise startled him. Picking out the source, it was yet another toy, an airplane this time which was lit up and buzzing.

“That is not my favourite.”

Noah was awake. And staring at him with wide eyes, still awestruck. Tony found the off switch before placing the toy on the table.

“Oh yeah? Which one is your favourite then?” He asked, watching your son retrieve his beloved toy robot and hand it to him.

“This one!”

“You know I had the exact same one when I was little? Now I just have the suits. I guess they’re the same.” He mumbled, more to himself than to Noah.

You walked in on them having a conversation about how robots are the coolest toys on the planet, a smile appearing on your face at the sight.

Tending to Tony’s topical wounds wasn’t the easiest, especially since it confirmed how truly handsome he was up close, plus your son’s gaze kept shifting between the two of you, going on about showing Tony all his toys.

“Thank you, Y/N. Are all the people in this town so kind?” He chuckled, fingers fumbling with the edges of his shirt to keep them from reaching out and tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“They are. But given the fact that you’re you, I doubt any of them would have problems helping you out.” You hummed, stepping away after finishing tending to his last bruise, with a small smile that seemed perpetual on your face.

.

He insisted on using your garage for fixing his suit instead of your house, making himself familiar with your basic household tools in the small but efficient little space.

In the meantime, you bathed Noah, negotiating with him since he wanted to run to see what Tony was fixing and how.

“I help Iron Man, Mama!” He said in his best pleading voice.

“It’s way past your bedtime, little man.”

He seemed too busy plotting something that would convince you, his deep brown eyes lighting up as he came up with something that he knew you’d agree to.

“But Mama…hot chocolate?”

“Noah..”

“You promised!” He whined, on the verge of a tantrum. Naturally, you caved.

As you two made your way towards the garage, you could hear Tony mumbling, to himself, you hoped. Like a nervous habit, his leg tapped against the floor as he worked, eyes solely focused on the job at hand before your little knock broke him out of it.

“Got you some hot chocolate.” You announced with a smile, holding out a steaming mug for Tony, topped with little marshmallows.

Noah had already wriggled out of your grip towards the suit which lay against a table, his eyes wide in wonder as he examined the machinery.

“Be careful, Noah.”

“Actually kid, why don’t you hold onto this and press that button over there when I tell you?” Tony handed him a small device, instantly lighting your kid’s face up in delight as he nodded.

You watched as Tony tinkered around for a bit, giving Noah a thumbs up to press said button which booted his suit back to life.

“Mama, did you see that?!” He exclaimed, looking at you as if to make sure you hadn’t missed out on anything.

Watching his ecstatic face made your heart swell as you reached over to kiss the top of his head. It was better than candy-land for him.

As you drank your hot chocolate, your son managed to convince Tony Stark into fixing one of his toys for him which he agreed to, asking him questions about it which Noah was more than happy to answer.

Time went by and Noah grew drowsy, retreating to your lap & making himself comfortable while Tony tended to his suit again.

“So if you’re—”

“How did this—”

Letting out a chuckle, you gestured for Tony to go ahead with his question as you looked down to find your son fast asleep against your shoulder.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I was just going to ask if you’re raising him on your own or…”

Tony didn’t mean to pry, but he couldn’t help but wonder. There wasn’t any obvious evidence that you were married, or that you were raising a child with someone.

“Oh! I adopted Noah three years ago. I was volunteering at a centre at the time and I read he was abandoned by his parents, it broke my heart. I couldn’t get him out of my mind and I ended up filling a form. It felt right.” You murmured with a fond smile on your face as you glanced at his sleeping form.

Tony stared at you in wonder. You couldn’t have been more than…thirty? Maybe lesser? But somehow you had raised a bright little boy and made a decent living for yourself. He admired you.

“Wow, that’s truly something, Y/N. This guy is lucky to have such an amazing mother. Truly.”

Tony’s sincere compliment warmed your cheeks; shaking your head, you excused yourself to tuck your child in bed, while Tony followed you back to the house grabbing the empty mugs for you.

In the kitchen, you whispered Tony to place the mugs in the dishwasher since the sink was already full. It seemed like the guy hadn’t ever been to a kitchen before, he seemed unfamiliar with how it worked, it was kinda funny to watch him clueless with household gadgets.

“Why don’t you hold Noah while I do it? Here.”

“What? No, uh. I’m not sure—”

You already had passed Noah to him before he could process it fully. He hugged him close like Noah was made of precious glass, looking as awkward as ever.

As you placed the cups away, you glanced at Tony, grinning to yourself when Noah stirred a little only to snuggle against the man. The sight made your heart skip a beat.

You’d take him back but Noah’s little arms tightened around Tony’s neck, as if he didn’t want to let him go. Wordlessly, you pointed upstairs where his bedroom was and Tony followed you quietly, worried any sudden movements would wake him up.

Tony’s heart warmed as your kid’s evened out and calm breaths contrasted against his own erratic ones, it was oddly grounding for him.

He placed Noah on his little bed as carefully as he could, looking at you as if waiting for further instructions. Taking over, you made sure Noah was comfortable before tucking Snuggles - his beloved stuffed rabbit under his arm and secured his blanket.

“Sleep well, my love.”

You kissed his forehead a couple of times before standing back up, unaware of Tony watching the whole scene with the fondest smile.

“Let me get you a blanket, Mr. St—Tony. I’ll be right back.”

Tony stopped you right as you were about to turn, placing an hand on your shoulder before you could leave.

“I’m not going to stay, I—I don’t sleep. I mean, I’ve already bothered you too much, it would better if I left. The suit is all ready and I’ve called for a car. And I have trouble sleeping.”

He finished speaking with a heavy sigh, scratching the back of his head as you processed and slowly nodded your head, unable to hide the tinge of disappointment you felt.

“Of course. Um. Let me walk you out then.”

The car he’d hired stood outside your house, steely grey against the blanket of snow that covered the ground. The steps you took slowed down as you reached, the silence between you growing.

“Thank you for the best hot chocolate, Y/N. And for everything, really.” Tony offered his hand, glancing down at the warmth of yours against his colder one.

“You’re welcome, Tony. Happy holidays?”

“Yeah. I don’t know about that.” Tony murmured mostly to himself, still clasping your hand in his.

“I’ll see you around?”

The hope in his voice was unmistakable, he did want to see you, and soon. His overworked brain was already thinking of ways to make it happen. He would figure it out. He needed to see you again.

“Sure. Take care, Iron Man.” You smiled, shifting your weight from one to another.

“You too.”

He drove off with a final glance at you and your house, leaving behind a trail of smoke and a memory you’d revisit often in the future.

Do you think Tony will return? If yes, how?

[themetalvirus]

how egghog silver and shadow realize something is wrong and how they run away. 2k words.

while eggman is gathering the chaos emeralds for a nefarious plot, silver enters the room where he's keeping them on his own. he thinks about something amy said about them being able to turn thoughts into power. if they're so powerful, maybe he could use them to see the future himself…

he puts his hands on them and thinks and hopes. he's trained and honed his powers for this, so it HAS to work. and it does – a portal opens. after a moment's hesitation, he takes the two chaos emeralds he used through the portal. he's glad he did, because the portal closes behind him.

suddenly he can't breathe. there's too much smoke and ash in the air, and his sensitive lungs are immediately very unhappy. as he's coughing and hacking, he notices just how barren everything is. how orange and dark. there are no people here, but there seems to be a lot of metal and machines. he wants to know what happened so he can better prevent this from happening, and in turn prevent his birth parents from suffering, prevent the pain of what happened to him from happening to anyone else by any means necessary. he seeks out a library or really anywhere with books. books are more reliable than people anyway. he's in luck and finds an old library with much of its delicate inventory undamaged by the fires, and he gets to work picking out everything that seems relevant in his pk before opening them in a circle around him twilight sparkle style and gets to skimming.

there's a lot of things about daddy. they are not flattering. there are a lot of mentions of him and his brothers. how they were such powerful tools that they were the key to eggman being able to destroy the world. he couldn't have done it without his sons.

silver doesn't take this well. he believes the book is propaganda or lies, but the more he reads, the more affirmations there are that this could be true. he's in denial, but he makes sure to put the books somewhere they won't burn before he heads outside and tries to find material proof that it's lies.

he flies around in a desperate bid to see anything but metal buildings and scrap, but he can't. everything left behind is familiar to him in style and structure. he comes across a large drilling machine that spans the area of a small city and the oil oozing out of it is burning brighter than anything else he's seen, fueling the flames of everything else around it. it has eggman's logo still clearly emblazoned all over it.

his heart drops, he panics, he covers his mouth and hyperventilates and tries to come to grips with this but he can't. the kicker is that he knows eggman has time traveled before and told his sons it was too dangerous and terrible to join him. eggman had to have known this and he didn't care. he knew and he didn't care. silver caused his own abandonment, helped kill his own parents he'll never meet or remember, and his daddy wanted it that way. he can't take it anymore and goes back to... his time? but it isn't his time, is it. his time is on fire and the world is dead. his time is nowhere.

he tries to tell his brothers about what he saw, but shadow is too walled off to talk to and sonic believes what he saw was misleading or a lie. shadow says that silver said himself that the chaos emeralds turns thoughts into power. it could all be in his head.

help isn't here and he can't let dad know what happened. he leaves the next morning after a sleepless night for a "mission", but he's just looking for amy. she's the only person who could possibly believe him and HELP him. his family wouldn't do anything.

this whole time he's in emotional anguish, crying so hard he's thrown up a few times already, and when amy sees him she thinks he's faking it like he always does. until he starts gagging and begging. he would never lay himself this low for a lie. concerned, she takes him to tails, who is having a much harder time believing that this is real and not a trick to find out where his workshop is or take advantage of him. he's a bully and a tyrant and he wouldn't feel safe having silver in his house. amy forces him to accept anyway. amy awkwardly offers silver new clothes, and he accepts. they're ill-fitting and not his style but he's already got his fur matted with tears and rank with Things so he gives up his dignity. tails is unhappy, silver is panicking and throwing up all night while amy tries and fails to comfort him, and eggman becomes deeply suspicious of silver not coming back. especially when he can't track his precious son boy's location. hmm.

he pulls shadow and sonic into his main Scheming Room and say anything silver told them was a lie and a trick. amy was brainwashing him. they need to report any sightings to him immediately and bring him back at all costs. meanwhile silver has told amy about eggman's scheme and that eggman already has a few emeralds. his first order of business to save his future is to steal them back. tails has a conversation with him first. if you want to actually save your future, you'll be completely out of any time. an anomaly. your parents would most likely never exist.

silver thinks this over for a surprisingly short pause in the conversation, looking at his hands. he says yes, i'll accept it. i don't want what happened to me to happen to anyone else. ever.

jumping forward a little bit, the first time silver sees his family again they're surprised to see him out of uniform and actually helping amy. he pleads with them, saying they've got it all wrong, they're destroying the future and the world, but they all say that can't possibly be right. the future must be destroyed because we haven't tried hard enough, haven't gotten rid of amy, or because YOU abandoned us. silver openly cries, and eggman rolls his eyes and says he isn't going to fall for it. silver chokes on his own spit and sputters about how he was abandoned and they don't care, they don't care that everyone was dead and the sky was blotted out with thick smoke, they didn't care that his lungs are permanently damaged just from being in that world as an infant, they don't care.

shadow and sonic are confused and worried and try to step over to comfort him however they can, but eggman says boys. here. now. they can't disobey. they get into the eggmobile and leave him on his own. and that's what he thinks is his final goodbye to his family, home, and previous life. shadow complicates things.

-

shadow is unsettled by silver's distress. privately, he believes that silver wouldn't lie to them and wouldn't leave them over a lie. sonic repeatedly tries to soothe shadow's apparent worry, but it isn't working. despite everything, shadow hopes that things will just go back to normal, silver will realize how foolish he's being, and he'll come back home and everything will be okay.

while eggman is working on getting the chaos emeralds back from amy and friends (hes ultimately unsuccessful this time), he seems very busy and distracted. more than usual. shadow is particularly sensitive to eggman's moods, so it's apparent to him. on a day where he's keeping watch while eggman works on some sensitive files and plotting work, eggman gets up and leaves the room to check something. shadow is left alone with a computer with every single permission possible, including the files on him and his brothers. he wonders what eggman could have lied to him about. he pushes through fear and sits down in a chair much too large for him and opens up the files labeled with his name. there's a lot of files from someone named gerald. design notes labeled to be about 65 years old now. there's police filings, reports, personal journals, scientific studies, newspapers, obituaries... there's a strange fixation on a little girl named maria that died somewhere called "the ark".

she was only 4.

he's never met this girl, so he feels no more than a vague sadness. this whole thing is so... odd. but all these design notes are about him, specifically theories about how he would grow up, and the practical designs seem to all be based around a fetus, and there's some stuff about aliens, and... eggman did not make him. eggman stole him.

right as he realizes the gravity of this, eggman clears his throat in the doorway.

so? what do you think about what you've learned? shadow is frozen as eggman steps closer. does this change anything?

eggman watches closely. shadow is sweating and he swallows and he says no, nothing changed at all. eggman says good, good. you passed my little test. do you think so low of me that i would leave my computer unattended without reason? you silly little thing.

and that's that. shadow doesn't change anything about his routine, but he's deeply troubled by several fundamental truths he knew about himself were wrong. he was lied to for so long and eggman didn't care... that pings another worry of his. silver was right. he knows a lot more than he did a few months ago, but he assumes things will be normal. though he's not able to do his job as well, and seeing silver again makes him scared and want to go with him and say he was right all along, and seeing rouge makes him tempted to leave with her, and he has to shake it all off because he really doesn't want to get in trouble.

it's monthly checkup time, and eggman is being very thorough. a bit more thorough than usual, but it's okay, it makes sense, it's been a while since the last full physical. this is normal. eggman starts sterilizing him, helping him clean himself thoroughly down to the skin, and this is normal and it's fine. eggman puts on a full sterile hazmat suit in blinding white and this is normal, he's put in a hospital gown and plastic booties and that's normal, and eggman is leading him by the shoulders to the back room he's only been in for surgical upgrades and that's normal.

eggman opens the door, still firmly holding his shoulders. the long-term stasis chamber with comfortable cushions is open and waiting like a casket. the screens around it are alight with information, some of which he's seen before. notes on memory extraction.

eggman left the notes up on purpose. this is shadow's final test of loyalty, staring into the abyss. shadow does not pass it. he teleports away, using all his strength to teleport over and over again to somewhere far away, not fussed about where it is in particular as long as it's AWAY.

he ends up in the woods somewhere, dazed and confused and looking for some kind of help, any help at all. tails reports to amy that there's been odd energies somewhere in the deep woods and she should investigate.

she sees shadow in a hospital gown, ekg/telemetry electrodes stuck all over him, fur ruffled and smelling like chemicals. his eyes are somewhere else, and he begs her for help and shelter because he needs to GET. AWAY.

she takes him to tails, tails is unhappy, silver is shocked but can't have a proper reunion with shadow because he seems to be in shock and he isn't talking much. silver is still once again in tears. tails takes shadow to the guest room where silver was staying and he falls asleep on the floor not long after, a spare blanket draped over him. he always did steal sleep whenever he could. when he wakes up, he's disoriented and doesn't believe this is real. he wanders around until he runs into tails, and tails says he's not dreaming. welcome to team amy. the world pops into clear focus for the first time in over a day and he collapses as he finally absorbs what happened to him and how badly this could end. dad was going to kill him. he can never go back.

[your-hockey-mom]

Stardew + Quinn! Go!!!! Pleaseeeeeeeee ❤️

You were on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket cocoon and living your best cozy life. Quinn was away at the Canucks morning skate, so it was your time to just be a complete loaf with no fear of judgement. Now, Quinn would never judge you for taking time to yourself or doing whatever it was that you wanted to. There were times where you felt guilty because he was so active and regimented, but he wasn't the type to guilt-trip. Today was your day off and you had decided you weren't going anywhere.

The holidays had drained you. With so much pressure to buy gifts, go to dinner parties, and constantly spread holiday cheer, by this point and time, you were just done. Done with everything. Done with stupid sweaters, done with constant glitter stuck to your skin, and done with saying "happy holidays" to everyone you parted ways with. You weren't trying to be a scrooge, but this year, the season just felt heavy. That's why today was going to be a lazy day.

Leftover sushi you had made the night before sat on a plate on the coffee table alongside a glass of tea. The lights were off, all but the twinkling of the fairy light wrapped Christmas tree in the corner. The Stardew Valley title song was filling the whole apartment with a whimsical feeling as you dug around your blankets for your PS5 controller. It never failed that as soon as you were ready to play, that damn controller was nowhere to be found. Eventually, you'd find it, somehow a foot under the sofa; the bright blue LED panel giving away its location.

You loved this game! Loved the little things like picking crops and making friends. You always married Sebastian, but this time you were holding out, hoping Quinn would want to play and then you could marry his character instead. However, whenever you wanted to play with him, he was either on the road, had a home game, or just never seemed interested. at the time. For his birthday, you had bought him a copy for his Switch, but he had never mentioned starting it, so you weren't sure he even cared. But it was fine, you enjoyed it enough for the both of you.

With your save file loaded, you tried to remember what you were working on the last time you had played. It was Winter, your third year already, and you were bouncing back and forth from the desert and the island. The game moved a lot slower, playing solo, but you felt that just meant you could enjoy it longer before you ran out of stuff to do. For sometime you had a farm with your best friend, and co-op mode made everything fly by! You were always on farm duty: growing crops and tending to the animals; she did the fishing and the mining. It just worked so well with that system. Now, everything was your job to do and it was a lot!

It was easy to lose track of time. The plate of sushi, sitting beside you on the sofa cushion was half gone, but all the ice had melted in your glass. Your phone had gone off a few times; Quinn letting you know he had made it to the practice arena safely and that he loved you. You understood that whenever his skates were on, it was work time not text time. Those check-in messages meant more than one-hundred from anyone else. The fact that he cared enough to let you know he was okay always gave you butterflies.

When the apartment door opened, you paused the game and looked over you shoulder. Was it time for him to be home already?

"Hey, baby," he said, once he walked in, seeing you under about ten pounds of blankets. "I figured you had taken a nap."

You looked at him, slightly confused by this statement. "A nap? Nope, just been farming!"

"I messaged you," he chuckled, taking his backpack from his shoulders. "You must have been too in the zone to notice."

"What? Really? I didn't hear it go off!" Frantically, you begin patting your lap, realizing now that your phone has been the latest victim of the blanket monster. "I'm sorry!"

He just grins, still looking at you from across the room. "It's alright, babe. I was just letting you know I was heading back, was all. It was nothing important."

Quinn throws his coat aside and kicks off his sneakers before he makes his way to you, while you still try to find out where your phone had gone.

"Looking for this?" He asks, seeing it on the coffee table.

"Oh my god... I don't know how I missed your message. I'm sorry, baby!"

Quinn sits down beside you, slips his hand beneath the blankets to find your thigh. "It's okay, really. Seriously, I thought you were just asleep. No need to stress." He gives you a kiss, melting away any upset about missing his text. "How goes farming?"

"Good! I'm just getting everything ready for Spring! I'm ready to plant, so I did some farm remodeling." Your voice conveys nothing short of pure joy. You were so happy that he had asked you about it.

"You're cute." He smirked, his hand squeezing your leg. "Aren't you hot?

"I... I'm comfy!" In truth, yes, you were a little warm but you wouldn't concede that you were too warm. It was December after all and the apartment was always a touch on the cooler side. Quinn ran a lot hotter than you, and it was his apartment after all.

"I can turn the heat up, sweetheart. You don't have to bury yourself under every blanket I own." He gave you a wider smile now, chucking at your ridiculous, adorable nature.

"I'm okay! Really! How was practice?"

Quinn leans back into the sofa, stretching his legs. "Not bad, I feel a little stiff in the back but I'm alright. I think I just slept wrong."

"Aw, that's not good!"

"I'm alright." He pulls himself up to then lay his head in your lap, his back flat to the cushions. "I'll lay here and watch you play. Maybe it will decompress enough before tonight." Quinn looked up at you, his soft eyes looked tired. You couldn't help playing with his hair for a few moments until he closed his eyes. "Play your game, baby. Don't let me hinder you. There are crops to be grown." He laughed.

"Are you sure? I can rub your back if you want?"

"I'll be okay, really, but thank you. I'm not that bad, not yet anyway. Ask me tonight when I get home and I might take you up on it."

"Okiee~"

"I still need to play this with you sometime," Quinn remarks, turning his head to look at your backpack menu, full to the brim with items. "It looks cute."

"You're cute," you reply, not missing a beat and it makes him laugh.

"Smooth," he jokes, his eyes falling closed once more after you finally unpause the game. He sneaks moments of watching you run around from time-to-time before he finally falls asleep altogether.

It was fun to imagine life with Quinn, having a little farm of your own outside the city. Maybe one day you could be so lucky. For now, you'd settle for living that life with him in the game.

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎCandy Cane Mocktails౨ৎ꣑ৎ

౨ৎ꣑ৎ12 Days of Christmas Masterlist౨ৎ꣑ৎ [fem reader] contains: hurt/comfort pairing: fem reader x university coriolanus snow summary: the university's annual christmas gala with coriolanus author’s note: some good old forced proximity for you my darlings <3 Spotify Playlist

Sweethearts. That was the idea of it. You begrudgingly took Coriolanus' outstretched hand, walking with him through the open doors of the library. Being who you were attracted certain looks, and being on the arm of Coriolanus Snow attracted even more of them.

He led you down the front steps, chin held high, shoulders squared. Of course he looked handsome- nobody ever expected anything less. The way he carried himself exerted power, drew one's eye to him. You supposed you would be the same way if you were happy about being engaged.

It had come out of nowhere. Your father's announcement that your family and the Snows would be intertwined. He made it sound like such a gift, but all it did was dim your spirits. And now you were wondering what the point was of sending you to the university to begin with. Why educate you if you were destined for a life of social calls and public appearances on his arm? At least he was young, you supposed.

It wasn't that he ignored you. If there was ever a man more attentive to his fiancée, you knew him not. There was no shortage of affection, and not in public certainly. But it was all tainted by the circumstances of this engagement. He was only good to you for the inheritance with your name on it, for the sake of having an accessory.

It was for all these reasons that you were not looking forward to the upcoming gala hosted by the university.

Naturally you were expected to attend with your betrothed and do all the usual couple-in-public things.

Kiss his cheek. Hold his hand. Laugh at the appropriate times. Act like you were in love. It was sure to be exhausting. With Coriolanus' expectations, you would be on your toes, glancing over your shoulder at every turn. You were already dreading it all.

You nearly slipped on the icy steps in your heels, gripping Coriolanus' hand. He turned his head, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Careful, darling." Your next step was slow, supported by him, but you still managed to slide. He huffed through his nose, hoisting his bag over his shoulder and leaning down to hoist you into his arms.

When you gasped, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I'll contact someone about salting the steps." As if he hadn't just done what he'd done, he began to descend the stairs again, ignoring the watchful eyes of onlookers in the street.

Naturally there'd been a flutter in your heart at his show of strength, one that you quickly suppressed. Only for appearances, you reminded yourself. He just wants to seem like a gentleman.

You'd known little of Coriolanus Snow from your time at the Academy, only that he was a star pupil, the apple of nearly every teacher's eye. For the most part, you'd kept to yourself, keeping your grades up and your head down. If he'd recognized you from school when you'd become acquainted, he hadn't shown it.

The rock on your finger was a sign of intimacy that you hadn't earned. Given how shy you'd been at the Academy, before Coriolanus you'd never kissed anybody. He'd caught you by surprise when he did it for the first time on one of your study dates, late at night in the library. It was another thing you shelved away as mere curiosity, almost-marital duty.

The strangest thing about it was that you'd been alone. Not a single other soul in the library that night, and still he'd kissed you, lips surprisingly soft against yours. Sometimes in the moments between wakefulness and sleep, you replayed it, wondering things you didn't want the answers to.

You kept your eyes on the scenery once in the car, enchanted by the snow that began to drift from the sky, fat flakes melting on the window. Determinedly, you were not looking at him, although you could feel his sharp blue gaze on you.

Only once he said your name did you turn, blinking innocently. Coriolanus had set his bag to the side, and you let him bridge the space between your seats to grasp your hand. “I’ll be there to pick you up at seven tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to, we can just find each other once we’re there,” you said, looking down at your joined hands.

“It would be best if we arrived together,” he countered, and you nodded simply, looking out the window again. In truth, you’d known he would insist on going together- you’d only wanted to see how he’d refuse.

Every facet of Coriolanus Snow you uncovered was one you turned over until there was nothing left to study about it. He was so closed, you felt as though you were collecting fragments and piecing the puzzle together. Heaven knew if you’d ever finish it.

You never quite knew which part of him you would uncover next. Even now, as the car parked in front of your home and he looked at you expectantly, you were unsure what he was thinking. Leaning forward, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he looked pleased, reaching into his bag and rummaging for a moment. “I want you to wear this tomorrow. Hopefully it’ll go with your dress.”

His hand emerged from the bag holding a sleek box, which he promptly opened to reveal a creamy string of pearls. Perfect and pure and predictable. But they were beautiful, and you risked a look into his eyes, surprised by how much you liked the gift.

"It will," you confirmed, accepting the box from him once he'd closed it. "Thank you. They're lovely."

"You're welcome, darling." You gave him a little smile as you tucked your new necklace into your bag, reaching for the door handle. Coriolanus caught your elbow before you could step outside. "Seven o'clock. Remember."

"I will," you affirmed, blinking innocently at him until he let go, leaning back in his seat. The image wasn't at all bad on the eyes- Coriolanus Snow, knees lazily spread, eyes blue as a summer sky, expression slightly amused. He was a picture many a woman would like to have in their hands.

You shut the door before you could think anything else you didn't want to.

The party was dreadfully predictable, but at least your dress was pretty.

Low neckline, thin straps, silky material with a high slit in the leg. The color matched his tie- deep wine red. The pearls he'd given you fell perfectly on your collarbone, and you'd noted his look of approval when you'd gotten in the car. He preferred when you wore his family's color, and you supposed you'd done it tonight so things would go smoothly.

His hand was on your waist, big and warm as he spoke to a man whose name you did not know, making you feel more like a decoration than ever. You were looking around, trying to distract yourself, but your fiancé squeezed your side, making you turn your head back to him. His signal. You weren't being interesting enough.

"I agree," you said automatically, and he lifted his eyebrows, searching your face.

"Let's get you a drink," he said, reaching for a glass before you could protest and setting it in your grasp.

Coriolanus watched you expectantly, and you decided, screw it. Pulling a wide-eyed doll face look, you batted your lashes, pushing it back at him. "You said I can only have one tonight." It was true that you'd already had one, but it had been non-alcoholic, tasting vaguely of peppermint. You didn't feel like drinking tonight, knowing alcohol would only make you sluggish.

He melted a little- you could see it as he took the glass, pressing a kiss to your temple. "That's right, sweetheart." You watched as he took a sip, fingers rubbing up and down your side. Trying not to slump, you turned your head, weary of what was sure to be hours more of this. Of talking, of pretending to be interested, of clinging to your fiancé's arm and acting enamored with him.

Coriolanus' hand on your waist tightened, and you looked up at him, confused. There was a shift in the air- something was wrong. Your heart began to pound, and you blinked, shoulders tensing. A feeling of dread pierced you, and the instinct to run was strong. You had to get out of here.

Covering his arm on your waist, you began to speak, voice tiny and strained. "Coriolanus-"

The lights were cut. You heard the hiss of something being shattered and then you were on the floor, body tense with fear as Coriolanus pulled you into him. His arms were fully wrapped around you, covering your back and pressing your face into his chest. You didn't resist, feeling limp as the threads of anxiety pulled you tight.

It felt like an eternity that you were on the ground under your fiancé, the worried chatter in the air causing tears to spring to your eyes. You tried to hold it back, but a whimper escaped you, faint under the noise.

Embarrassingly, Coriolanus seemed to catch it, his arms under you tightening, his nose falling to your hair. You unwillingly took in a sharp breath, your tears building up to the point where you couldn’t freeze them anymore.

He didn’t say a word, just shifted so you were more comfortable, one hand starting to rub up and down your back faintly. You fell into a lapse, senses blurring, mind going numb. Rebels. It had to be rebels. And this was the perfect time to attack too, at one of the most important events of the year.

In your fog, you didn’t notice Coriolanus nudging your side, voice hushed but urgent. Snapping awake, you found his eyes in the dark. “Darling. We’re going to go to the safe room. Come on.”

Feeling weak, you tiredly reached for him. He exhaled, sliding his arms under you to hoist your body into his chest. As he stood, you hid your face in his shoulder, nearly trembling. Suddenly he was the safest person in the world- your only hope in this dark hour.

He was all you had.

You barely registered making it to the safe room, only that he was there and he was warm and he was safe. Someone else was speaking and you weren’t sure if it was to you. Fabric draped over your shoulders, and you shivered as he pulled the edges of his suit jacket over you.

It was nearly humiliating how shaken you were. In all the parties you’d attended, all the events you’d graced, the rebels that were whispered about so much hadn’t ever shown their faces. A part of you had shelved them away as an urban legend, something feared but never come to life.

But now as the crashes from upstairs grew louder, the evidence was overwhelming. Looking up, you found Coriolanus’ eyes, still sharp although the rest of him was the closest to a mess you’d ever seen on him. His hair was no longer neat, tie slightly askew. He was kneeling on the floor with you, hands on your knees. He was studying you like a map, trying to ask something you didn’t know the answer to.

Shivering, you tensed and he squeezed your knee lightly. Softly, Coriolanus said, "It's okay. We're going to be okay."

With no choice but to believe him, you nodded, eyes darting around the darkened room. For once, nobody was paying attention to the two of you, caught up in their own fear. In a different setting, that would mean you could drop your act, seek respite from your game of pretend. But you found yourself leaning into him, your forehead meeting his chest.

Shifting, Coriolanus parted his legs so you were closer to him, leaning sideways so you were right against his heart. Covering your ear with his other hand, he dropped his chin to your head. You closed your eyes.

He'd never done anything like this before, but you supposed you'd never let him.

It felt like hours before the lights came back on. Even then, you kept your face hidden, and his hand remained on your back. You took in a breath as he pressed his lips to the part in your hair. "We're going to go home now."

It seemed that all you could do was nod. Coriolanus helped you stand, and the rest was a blur.

Getting out of the building and into the car were blips in memory, mere seconds to you. All you knew was that he was there, grounding you to the earth and holding you close.

"I'll get you home as soon as I can," he murmured, and you shook your head, fingers closing around his shirt.

"Can we go to yours?" The words were tiny, punctuated immediately by his kiss to your temple. He nodded, immediately telling the driver where to go. You clung to him all the way there, steps shaky when you finally did get out of the car with him.

Reaching the floor to the penthouse, you forgot your fear for a moment as you looked around wide eyed. You'd never been here before, and your imagination hadn't done it justice. It was somehow sleeker than you'd thought it'd be, more polished. Coriolanus flipped on the lights, revealing a tree in the corner, scarlet ornaments gleaming along with the star on top. You stopped, staring at it with wonder in your gaze.

"Darling?" He paused too, hand on your elbow. "What's wrong?"

"I just..." you almost didn't say it, but something compelled you to. "I didn't expect you to have a Christmas tree."

There was a pause. Then he nodded, swallowing. "Of course I do."

You let him lead you to a bedroom that must have been his, if the desk in the corner strewn with papers was any indication. He left you standing close to the bed, disappearing behind a nearby door. While waiting, your eyes fell to your hand, at the ring sparkling on your wedding finger.

Here was the intimacy you'd lacked all this time. Hardly a bit of him had been known to you, and now you were swathed in it. His scent, how he lived. It was intoxicating.

"Here." You looked up at him, suddenly before you holding out a folded pair of silk pajamas. His.

Taking them hesitantly, you whispered, "What will you sleep in?"

Coriolanus shrugged, a boyish move you wouldn't have expected from him. Putting a hand on your shoulder, he brushed it off. "Let's get you to your bedroom."

You swallowed, looking to the door. It seemed terrifying to leave this room, to be alone with only the thoughts in your head. Inhaling sharply, you looked up at him, trying to hide the conflict within.

Hesitating, he studied you, looking into your eyes. "Do you want to stay here?"

Fidgeting, you bit your lip, wearing a hole in the ground with your eyes.

Sighing a bit, he nodded, turning you back around. "Okay. Alright." You let him guide you closer to the bed. "Change. I'll be back, alright?" Though a pit of dread opened in your stomach at the thought of him leaving you, even for a minute, you nodded.

Before you could ask, he reached around, unzipping part of your dress and leaving you afterwards, shutting the door with a click. You methodically undressed, stepping out of your heels and donning his pajamas, trying to ignore how cozy it felt to be surrounded by something that smelled like him.

Sitting on the bed, you took a moment to look around this space you'd built up to be so mysterious in your mind. It was easy to see how this space was his when you really looked at it. Wandering over to his desk, you scanned his possessions, smiling a bit when you saw his planner, tonight's event penciled in alongside your name in neat cursive.

When he returned, you were picking up your dress from where it had pooled on the floor, hooking your shoes on your fingers. Coriolanus set two mugs on the bedside, holding out his hands and nodding at the mugs. "I can take those. Drink that, it'll make you feel better."

You sat on the bed, reaching for your allotted one and taking a sip. Warm chocolate with a hint of peppermint. A little smile crept onto your face, and you drank some more as he set your dress neatly over a chair, your shoes with it.

Coriolanus began to unbutton his shirt, and you looked away, listening to his belt clink as he undid it, fabric rustling. The mattress sunk on your other side and you looked up when his arm reached across you to take his drink. A faint blush colored your cheeks when you saw that he was shirtless, and you averted your eyes even when he leaned against the headboard, holding out an arm for you.

"Here." He nodded when you looked over. "It's okay." When you still didn't venture over, he raised an eyebrow. "We're engaged."

That got you over, leaning into his body as he settled his hand to your side. Coriolanus' fingers stirred a soft rhythm on your hip, and you felt yourself relax. In the back of your mind, you wondered how something so terrifying had coaxed you into him so quickly.

Thinking back to all the times you'd smothered the twinges of what was caused by his touch, you wondered if it was sudden at all. Maybe it had been there all along, just waiting for you to accept it.

Swallowing, you softly said, "I've never seen your room before."

His response was quiet too. "You never asked to."

Silence. You looked up, meeting his eyes. Coriolanus' mouth was pulled straight, but you could see something else behind it. He was tired, and the usual mask he kept up wasn't as firm as it normally was.

Maybe he wanted what you pretended not to. Maybe he was just as lovely in this as you were.

You took in a breath, lowering your head to his shoulder and closing your eyes. He took your empty mug before it could tip, and you let your hand float down to his chest, finding a home there. His body seemed to loosen, and you relished the feeling.

"Tonight was scary," you found yourself whispering, and he stroked your side.

"It was." You nodded, letting him slide you down so you were laying with him, something soft covering your legs.

"I'm glad you were with me." It was so soft, you weren't sure if he would hear it.

You swore he pressed another kiss to your hair. "I'm always going to protect you."

It only made you feel safer as you slipped into sleep, swaddled in his pajamas and his arms.

[tinybeetiny]

I Can Show You Just How Deep: S.M

SMUT | 18+ | MDNI

->Starring: Rockstar!MingiXafab!Reader

->Genre: Smut,

->Cw: Explicit language, unprotected sex, smoking, lots of self wallowing.. sore loser, consensual recording, car sex

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Rock Never Dies Masterlist

There was nothing more important than battle of the bands and this was the year that you were sure your band would win. For 3 years in a row you guys lost to Ateez, each time was a harsh slap to the face but you had a secret weapon this time. "Okay. Is everyone ready? Gaon, are you ready?" You ask the newest addition "Absolutely. I'm ready to help you guys win this year” The atmosphere backstage was hectic but all so exciting "Okay guys" you gather everyone around "This is the year, I feel it. We chose a kick-ass song and we practiced til our fingers bled. But remember no matter what happens I'm proud of all of you" They all "aw" and envelope you into a hug "Okay okay. Get off and let's go blow the shit out of everyone"

You all felt so pumped walking onto the stage and the screams from the crowd only seemed to fuel you guys more. You look through the blinding lights out to the crowd then over to Gaon giving him a nod. As soon as he started it's like everyone else disappeared. You've never played like this before. Everyone was in the zone and you could feel your heart swell with pride. The addition of Gaon seemed to really benefit the band. You had spent countless sleepless nights composing and rearranging parts, the bags under your eyes for the days to follow really proved that. But it seemed to pay off and nothing could be more rewarding than hearing all of your hard work pay off, other than winning of course. The screams of the crowd were roaring and your bandmates were filled with optimism.

"Wow wasn't that amazing" The MC shouts "Next up is our champs for 3 years in a row... ATEEZ" The crowd erupts into loud cheers and you watch the 8 men strut onto the stage, their aura screaming "Look at me!" You hated how smug they were, another year another patronizing smile as they walked past your band to accept their trophy and check they most certainly did not need. But not this year, no, this year you guys had it in the bag "Wait. Hold on... is that Wooyoung on drums? What happened to Mingi?" "He's on bass!" The 6 of you stare at the group on stage. They made some changes and you didn't know whether to feel nervous or hopeful but as soon as they started playing all of it flew out of the window. It seemed their new arrangement made them sound better than they've ever sounded. It's like the changes seemed to be some secret missing puzzle piece and with every passing second every fiber of hope was ripped out. When they finished you could barely hear yourself think with how loud everyone was and to make matters worse they had the audacity to send yet more cocky smiles your way as they descended the stage.

Tensions were high as you awaited the dreaded results. You were so confident walking in but as soon as they got up on stage it seemed to all fly out of the window but your bandmates still had a little left in them “And the winner of this year's Battle of The Bands is… drum roll please” The air was so thick and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. “Ateez!” You feel your heart drop and the disappointment sets in. You hear the cheers around you but they all fade away when you hear the defeated sighs of your bandmates “Man I really thought we had it this year” “Me too, especially since we had Gaon” “I’m sorry guys” “(Y/n)?” They all turned to look at you but you were nowhere to be found.

You stand outside of the venue with a cigarette in hand trying to cope with the fact that you lost again. You inwardly groan when you hear the door open and the voice of the person you absolutely love despise “You know those things will kill you” his deep raspy voice fills your ears “I think I deserve this after what just happened” you shoot back and he just holds his hand up in surrender “Hey it’s not my fault the judges liked us better… again” he holds back a chuckle when he sees your glare “Whatever. Just go back inside and let me wallow in my failure alone." You wave him off taking another drag "Come on, Don't be like that. It's freezing out here.” He urges trying to get you to go back inside but all you do is shrug “Well I can’t just leave you out here alone. Someone might kidnap you or something” He insists motioning towards the door "Can't be the worst thing that's happened tonight." He lets out a sigh "Can we at least sit in my car? It's warmer" he offers. You weigh your options, you could go back inside and get bombarded by your band mates or you can sit in a car with Mingi “Lead the way”

You walk over to his car and scoff, of course. You stand in front of his pretty, shiny black M4 “Ain’t she pretty” he has a wide goofy smile on his face “She?” You ask looking over at him “What? You jealous?” He teases, chuckling at your expression “Jealous? Of a car?" he nods, opening the passenger door for you. You climb in and he closes the door, jogging to the other side. When he gets in his cologne fills the car. The tension was thick and maybe it was the buzz from the cigarette but the dull light of the streetlamp illuminated him in a way that caused so many unspeakable thoughts to run through your head. Your mind drifts back to how his fingers moved so gracefully on the neck of his bass. His long slender fingers moving so expertly and wonder how they’d feel on you- “you okay?” Mingi’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts “Um yeah” you clear your throat before speaking again “Guess I’m still wallowing” you turn to look at him and gasp when you realize just how close he was “I can help you feel better” his eyes flicker to your lips then back to your eyes “How? You gonna give me that trophy?” You ask cocking your head to the side. He scoffs out a laugh “I was thinking in a different way. A way that we both know should’ve happened a long time ago. You feel the tension, I know you do” he leans in closer “So what if I do?” You challenge “Then maybe we should do something about it. I can help it so many ways” “Show me”

“Oh my god Mingi you’re so deep” you gasp out and he can’t help but push on the little bulge in your tummy “Look at that. That’s so fucking hot” he reaches over grabbing his phone and opens the camera app “You don’t mind do you? Been dreaming of this for 3 years” you shake your head “Just send it to me later” he sits up as much as he could and the bright flash illuminates the inside of the car giving him a clear view of the scene in front of him. The sight of his cock disappearing into your tight walls almost had him spilling into you too early “Look at how well you’re taking me” his pace increases and he zooms in on the white ring that forms on the base of his cock “Look at this pretty little pussy" His thumb rubs circles on your clit "Fuck Mingi that feels so good" "Yeah? That feel good baby?"

The windows were foggy and anyone who walked by would be able to figure out just what was going on, especially with how much his car was moving. He rests his forehead against yours, his hips rut against yours "Shit Min you're gonna make me cum" The way your sticky sweaty bodies press together as he somehow buries himself deeper into you has you seeing stars and the tension in your stomach is begging to be released. “Cum for me. Just for me” Your fingernails dig into his bicep and your eyes roll back. Your moans fill the car as your contract around him “That’s it baby. Just like that” his thumb rubs against your clit, riding you through your orgasm. His cock glides faster as he nears his release, deeps groans and growls leave his lips and with one finally thrust he spills hot ropes of cum into you. You both lay there out of breath. He presses little kisses all over your face "So? Still wallowing?" he asks quietly "If I say yes can we do this again?"

Taglist: @e3ellie @yoonshiiu @yunlazia @jonghoslilstar @sugakooie

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[soo0hee]

Nightmare Manor

Pairing — Ghost!JeonWonwooxReader

Summary — When you had to come back home to a house you had sworn you would never set foot into, you surely did not expect to find yourself in your own personal nightmare...

Genre — horror

AU/Trope Info — Ghost Au

Wordcount — 1.7k

Warnings — psychological terror, supernatural happenings, implied murder, stalking also implied

Rating — NSFW ☕️☕️☕️☕️

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Looking around you just to see the home you had fled the day you had turned 18, just to find yourself right back where you had left things 7 years later, now as the owner of the estate your parents had left behind after their death was surreal.

Everything seemed to be just as it was when you had run out of the front door with nothing more than a bag pack, your phone and the money you had saved from jobs you got to for once have something to yourself. And knowing your parents, that was most likely the case.

The gigantic portrays that seemed to be staring down from the walls were still there just like every artifact that your family had collected over centuries. Everything was still in place and everything felt just as cold and lifeless as when there were still people living in it.

Standing here in the entrance hall and looking around after the funeral of your mother and father was over, you felt just as small as always. Why they had left the house in your hands and not your siblings you didn´t know. After all, they were the golden children while you were just the disappointment that had betrayed the family being leaving. You wanted nothing to do with the house, wanted nothing to do with what ultimately reminded you of a time in which you felt unloved and left behind by those you were supposed to call family.

But that couldn´t be changed now.

You knew that you wouldn´t keep the house. There was no way you wanted to stay for longer then you absolutely had to. You should just burn it to the ground; however this was still the house you had grown up in. Even with all the hatred you had for this place, you still felt somewhat attached to it.

Felt attached to it with its creaking floor boards, scratching sounds in the walls, constant cold that seemed to settle in your bones, flickering lights and footsteps that came from nowhere. The house was weird. It always had been but your parents and siblings had called you crazy often enough in your childhood that you chose to keep quiet about every single incident you could remember.

And there were a lot.

It was weird how it was only ever you who seemed to notice it. At some point in your early life you had actually started to doubt your mental state when nobody reacted when the door opened itself during dinner even though you were sure it was closed or when the cups fell out of the cupboard regularly without being touched.

But then you had left and pushed that life out of your mind.

And now you were back.

Trying to sell this haunted place without much luck.

Whatever you had noticed was also noticed by potential buyers and they were not inclined on buying a house that could very well be the scenery of a horror movie.

You sighed when the door closed and another one left in a hurry.

“Why does this place hate me so much?” you asked yourself with your forehead leaning against the wooden frame of the front door.

The only answer you received was the subtle gust of wind brushing over the exposed skin of your arms and raising Goosebumps all over them. A shudder went down your spine as silence fell over the mansion.

It was no use to question anything and far too late for you to do so anyway. All you felt was exhaustion making your eyes feel heavy after 3 weeks of barely getting any sleep.

If you had though the creepiness off your home as a child was bad, then nothing could have prepared you for when you were living in it alone.

The first night back was weird as you had not set foot into your room in years. Everything had been calm. Almost to calm for your waiting mind to once again hear and see the thing you knew were there.

The second night was much like the first one. Calm. Save for the rats your heard running around in the walls.

And then the third night, just as you had gotten used to the quiet, it had all come back.

The scratching, the footsteps, the creaking floor boards… everything came back full for like it had just waited for you to feel safe.

Safe was the furthest thing you felt now.

You wanted to go home. Your home. The one you had found in a city so far away and so different that it was easy to forget this place when you burrowed in your fuzzy blanket in front of your TV with your cat curled up by your side.

God you missed the fluffy pet that was for now tended to by your best friend until you came home.

A crow sat in the window and tilted it´s head at you.

“At least you can fly away whenever you want. I am stuck here it looks like.” You blinked back with defeated shoulders, turning to leave the hall and walk up the stairs when you thought you saw the shadow of a man out in the field. It was gone as quick as it had come and you shook your head, hoping that it had been the light of the lowering sun playing tricks on your eyes.

“This place is making me go crazy.” You muttered to no one.

All you wanted was to sleep but this night was no different to the others.

Well it was, because this time you felt the growing need to go to the bathroom.

One look to the ticking clock on the wall told you that it was the middle of the night. 3:12 am.

Oh how you hated the thought of having to leave your bed right now.

You reached for the bed side lamp and the room was illuminated by a dark and dim light that only served to magnify the vibe the house already gave. You shuddered like so often.

Feeling that your bladder was urging you to get up you slipped into your bunny slippers and reached for the little night robe slung over the end of your bed to protect yourself from the cold.

The fact that the tab was already open and running hot water, steaming up the mirror did not help settle the bad feeling in your gut but for the sake of the toilet you ignored it. For now.

You did your business and flushed. Stepping close to the foggy mirror and wiped your hand over it. Your eyes met your mirror eyes…

And those of the man standing behind you between you and the door.

A shrill scream left your lips as you whirled around to stare at the stranger that most definitely did not belong inside your house.

“Who are you?” you demanded with your voice shaky enough to fail the intention of sounding brave.

The man’s head fell to the side in a gauging way.

“You´re finally back.” He said with a deep voice that somehow seemed to echo itself.

He was handsome, that much was no doubt and had he not been standing in your bathroom in the middle of the night you probably would have cared about it.

“B- back? What do you- Who are you?!”  You forced out and clung to the sink in your back.

The man blinked at your heavily breathing form. “I missed you.”

“Please, take whatever you want and leave my house! I won´t tell anyone that you broke in here, but please don´t come closer…”

A grin spread over his face as he tilted his head from side to side.

“I didn´t break in. I never left.”

Fuck.

What. The. Fuck?!

“W- what do y-you mean? You never left? What-“

The man stepped closer and you let out a cry, pressing yourself into the furthest corner knowing that there was no way out and past this man. You automatically reached for the hairbrush on the side cabinet and threw it at him.

No.

You threw it threw him and he chuckled like you had tickled him.

This couldn´t be. What was happening?

It was like the brush had passed right threw him and he didn´t even flinch. It almost seemed like his appearance had flickered for a moment before returning back to normal.

You took a deep breath to try and keep calm.

“How long have you been here?” you pressed out between tight lips.

The ghost(?!) thought for a moment but stood completely still. Judging by his clothes he couldn’t be from this time frame but from when-

“1967. The year I died.”

You wanted to die.

“And y-you never left?” you swallowed heavily.

“Can´t. This is my house. Can´t leave.”

“And why show yourself now?”

“You came back.”

You didn´t want to think about the possibility of what his words could mean. The implication that this man, this ghost, had been haunting your childhood home since long before you were even born was already enough for your heart to beat out of your chest in fear but the thought of said ghost watching you leave and waiting for you, You!, to come back? That had your stomach rolling unpleasantly.

“But not for long, I will-“you said quickly but got cut off.

“No.”

You froze.

“What?” you exhaled and watched as the smile of the man vanished and turned into something dark.

“No. You came back. I can´t let you go.”

He said it so easily as if it was the most obvious thing. Like you had ever planned on staying.

“I can´t stay, I- I can´t!”

The man flickered drastically and with him so did the lights. The scratching in the walls started up and the mirror burst in million little pieces.

“NO, YOU CAME BACK TO ME. YOU ARE MINE!”

An ear shattering scream echoed through the night and suddenly he was right in front of you with and ugly smile and an evil glint in his otherwise beautiful dark almost black eyes.

“You are mine to keep my love…”

[tomhockstetter7-111]

Highest Form of Empathy - Chapter 4

2k+ words

Logan x empath!reader

It's a blessing and a curse, feeling other's pain. More so when you can take it away, albeit at the expense of your own peace. One-night stands were a usual for you. That's all this was supposed to be. But, seeing someone in so much pain, you couldn't leave him like that. You just couldn't. Besides, it's not like you'd ever see him again.....

Chapter CW: Mentions of trauma and relationship issues

dunno how to make/pick headers...help, not peer edited

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mid-January, 2006

Westchester, New York

~~

You and Rogue converse casually about the past week's events. In the time between your first and second sessions, she had grown more open to the idea of you as a confidant. It became a common occurrence that Rogue would pull you aside during your off time to ask for advice on various things: Bobby, fitting in with the others, and especially her career plans, or lack thereof. Though, she did mention a passion for linguistics at one point. You made a mental note to explore it more later. 

You tried keeping a professional distance from her. But, she’s just such a sweetheart. You couldn’t find it in yourself to say no.

Now, you sit in the big green chairs in your office talking over water glasses. The day winds down to an end as you chat. It's here you learn of what happened between her escape from home and the present day. She makes an off-hand comment on what living on the road was like, and you jump on it with a "Tell me about that."

“After I left home,” she says, “I hitchhiked to a place in Canada. I used to tell people there was this one spot I wanted to visit. So, I went.” She stretches her arms out, placing her wrists on her knees. “Turns out it was the middle of nowhere.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You flip the page of a teal notepad dedicated to Rogue. It’s a lot easier keeping track of things like family trees, key memories, and such when you sort everyone in their own books like this.

“It’s fine. I just picked it off a map I had. It wasn’t all bad, though. That’s how I met Logan.” You perk up at the mention of his name. Remy’s story from last week echoes in your memory. “He was cage fighting at the time. I stowed away in his trunk. He tried kicking me out and leaving me alone, but then he stopped and let me come with him instead. I think he’s too nice to do something like that,” she chuckles lightly to herself. “Then, the professor found us, and I ended up here.”

“And then what happened?” You scribble away at the pages, feeling how Rogue’s mood sours a bit after your question.

“There was an accident. I got hurt cause of him. Then, he got hurt, and I thought everyone hated me for it so I left. Then, Magneto found me. He wanted to use my power for some device that could speed up mutations in people. He didn’t care that it would’a killed me.”

You find yourself gritting your teeth in an attempt to hold back reactions as you listen to her story. Magneto. That was the guy’s name you couldn’t remember. The guy who’s plan would’ve killed so many people just to prove some twisted argument. Though, you couldn’t quite remember how. And, worse, he was ok with killing a fucking child for it?

“The machine turned some of my hair white,” she chuckles humorlessly. The remark catches you by surprise. Up to now you had dismissed it as some fashion choice on her part. It never occurred to you that it wasn't natural. Well, maybe it is, now.

"It suits you, though," you reassure. "I think it frames your face nicely."

“Thanks. Logan liked it, too. Made me less embarrassed.” She smiles down at her lap. “He saved me that day. Gave me his healing powers after pulling me from the machine. I don’t know if I was dead but…” She pauses, and the mood around you drops heavily. “I really owe him. He never stopped looking out for me after that. We've talked a lot about Bobby. Says I deserve better...or that he should think a little more, at least." She looks down and fidgets with her gloves

"Is that so?" Your pen pauses against the paper.

"He says that…if he loves me, he'll consider more than just how I make him feel. Says love is s’posed to be deeper than surface. That you gotta put their needs on top of yours." Her gaze falls to the side, and you can feel her guilt over the topic along with an ache in her chest. It's faint, but it's there. In truth, her relations with Bobby worried you. He's clearly a sweet guy and means well. But, he's still so young. They both are. "I don't wanna think he's not right for me. But..." She trails off. 

"Rogue," you call out. "If you have resignations about the relationship, it doesn't make you a bad person. People come and go. Sometimes, you’re the person that goes, and that’s ok." You vaguely remembered your first love back in college. Rose colored glasses made your first boyfriend seem like the perfect match to you...until you made it clear your life wasn't getting put on hold for anyone. Even still, you were a wreck when you left him.

"What if I hurt him?"

"It's part of life, hon." You give her a sympathetic look. "Sometimes things just don't work out. It's rare that your first love is who you spend your whole life with." 

She picks at the edges of her nails before speaking again in a low voice. “I think you’ll like him. Logan. You guys talk alike.”

That catches you off guard. Rogue clearly has a lot of admiration for the guy.  The way it radiates off her reminds you much of your own love for your late father. Although, saying you two are alike? It feels like a stretch after what you heard from Remy. Yeah, you slept around a bit, especially late into university. But, you had a valid reason for it, and you most certainly never encroached on anyone’s territory. It’s hard to reconcile an attempted homewrecker to a loving father figure. But, humans had so many layers. Maybe, for all his faults, this guy has some decent parts to him, too.

A moment of silence passes before you glance back at your watch. "We're out of time, but let's pick this up next week, ok?"

She nods, her face somber.

You stand and get ready to open the door for her to exit. But, before that, you put a hand on her shoulder. "It'll work out, Rogue. It always does." That gets her to crack a smile, albeit small. You pray to yourself you can get down her habits and what could work for her soon. It sucks not being able to offer proper advice.

On the other side of the door, in a waiting chair, sits the aforementioned boyfriend. 

"You doing ok?" He slings an arm around Rogue’s shoulders, and you watch as she tenses. The situation really is as complicated as it seems. But, you pray they’ll be fine.

"Yeah, I-" A loud grinding sound outside cuts Rogue off mid-sentence. She lights up like the morning sky, showing a whole new person in the process. "Logan's back!" She grabs your hand as she pulls you down the hall, screaming at you to hurry so you can “beat him to the door”. You give nods in agreement as you and Bobby attempt to keep up with her. 

Once you reach the door, you watch as Rogue jumps into the arms of a big, burly man that just walked through it. A large duffle bag sits next to them on the ground. She makes sure to avoid contact with his head as she gives a tight squeeze, and your heart warms seeing her so carefree for once.

Ever the observant, you see in your sight a tall man, maybe six foot, in a brown, 70s style leather jacket with hair that...hair that resembles your mom's last cat. And, those eyes. You know those eyes. You remember those eyes. They make contact with yours, and the recognition in them tells you everything. He remembers you, too.

Shit.

Rogue pulls away, leaving Logan frozen in place, shocked face mirroring your own. She introduces him to you, the newest member of staff. You admit it’s nice to finally match a name to a face. You just wonder why it has to be his face.

"Hi." You give a greeting, mildly breathless.

He grimaces, "Hey." He lifts his hand in a pathetic attempt at a wave. There’s a faint tenseness bubbling below the surface. Is he…upset?

"About time!" Storm shouts as she comes walking down the stairs. "You're a week late, you know."

"I got lost." It's a weak defense, clearly a lie. But, Storm seems to brush it off as she reaches the ground floor only to meet eyes with you.

"Oh good! You two have met."

"Yeah," Logan says. "You could say that." He's still staring you down. God, if looks could kill…

Storm comes to stand between you. "Then, I'm sure you've noticed she's our newest babysitter."

"Hey!" You shove Storm playfully and she throws you a grin, feigning innocence. Helping with the kids you are, but “babysitter” is pushing it. The interaction helps enough to shove down your unease a bit, though.

Then, something on Logan catches her eye. "I thought you got rid of those."

You return your attention to him in time to see him tucking...something into his shirt. A defensive look dances across his face. Whatever it is looks to be hanging off a metal chain, and you raise an eyebrow, curiosity peaked.

"Logan." You hear Scott's voice at the top of the stairs. If Logan's disdain upon seeing you was obvious, it's nothing compared to what he throws at Scott.

"Scott." He clips. You glance from him to Scott, then back to him, then Scott, and back to him again.

"Oh wow." You mutter under your breath, brain connecting the dots. Now, you have to wonder what happened between them and Jean. Logan, somehow, hears your remark and shoots you a glare to which you return with an innocent smile.

"I'll...let you guys catch up. Gotta check on class plans." Storm, having no intention of wasting time escaping the awkward situation, is quick to make her exit.

Logan sizes you up, more or less, eyes never losing their edge. You cross your arms finding nothing but confusion, and a bit of hilarity, in what unfolds in front of you.

"You're late." Scott reaches the bottom of the steps and rounds the corner, catching Logan's attention, again. 

You take that moment to glance over at Rogue who's giving you a look you can't quite grasp. All you can glean from her mind is amusement, but not who it's directed towards. 

"Something you wanna say, hon?" You challenge her as Scott berates Logan over what he's missed the past couple weeks while Logan just stands there, completely unfazed.

Rogue just shakes her head at you, a cheeky smile gracing her lips. Clearly she’s seeing something you’re not.

"-unless you plan on running off with my bike…again." You catch the tail end of the conversation when Scott heavily emphasizes “again”, and your brows furrow. He stole the guy’s bike? What does he mean “again”?

"Well," Logan's eyes wander the mansion foyer before settling on you. "I could probably think of a few reasons to stick around." His eyes briefly flicker down your body.

Feeling rather exposed, you decide to look anywhere but his face while you fiddle with the zipper of your leather jacket. Well, that’s just great. This bullshit's why you do one-night stands. Too many complications come with people. Plus, with some people projecting emotions and thoughts more strongly than others, enough to where you don't even have to try looking, dating was something you gave up on a long time ago. Lucky for you, Logan seems to be one of those people. What you can’t figure out is why he seems so angry with you. Sure, you didn’t expect to see him again, and, yes, this is very, very awkward for you. But, is that really worth such a animosity? You didn’t do anything bad.

"Logan." You barely hear Scott's warning over the heat rushing to your ears. 

"You should get moving." You lean over to whisper the warning to Rogue and Bobby.

Rogue chuckles as Bobby bids Logan goodbye and begins to pull her away. "Bye, Logan,” she says before shooting you one last smirk, leaving you baffled. You figure a power like Jean’s or Charles’s would be very helpful right about now. Although, it is funny watching as she's practically dragged down the hall. Her and Bobby laugh about something you can't quite hear.

"Bye." Logan nods to her as she leaves.

Scott clears his throat. "Like I said, Logan, this is our newest staff member. She does counselling and psych work with the kids-"

"Yeah," you interrupt. "Rogue introduced us."

"Oh!" Scott raises his eyebrows. "Alright. So, he knows he'll be training you in combat, then."

"What?" Logan clarifies. No, he most certainly did not. Clearly no one had bothered to tell him

“You’re training the new recruit. In combat.” Scott leans in, emphasizing his point. “Don’t worry, big guy. She’s experienced.” His tone is condescending as he looks towards you.

“Right,” he nods. Logan breezes past that completely to tell Scott he needs to meet with Charles later. Something about "finally found what I was looking for". But, you can tell he's not done with you yet, and neither are you for that matter. For weeks now, the mysterious stranger lived rent-free in the corners of your mind, and now he's standing right in front of you. You want to take this chance to dig a little further...and…maybe clear the air a little.

"I'll let him know." Scott nods before heading down the corridor and disappearing around the corner.

You clear your throat to get Logan's attention and give him an awkward smile. "It's good to finally meet you," you say. "Rogue told me about you." Better to deal with the awkwardness sooner than later.

"Really…"

"Well, yes. I’m the new counselor and health teacher for the school." 

Logan scoffs. "You? A counselor? The whore in the bar?"

"I’m fucking sorry?” 

“You just didn’t strike me as the type.” Well, isn’t this going swimmingly? 

“I am more than qualified to be looking after these kids, unlike someone who spends his free time fucking strangers behind bars."

"Still a shit-talker, I see." He takes a step forward. "Should've put that mouth to better use when I had the chance."

"Get used to disappointment." You cross your arms over your chest as you hear your heart in your ears. You inhale, steadying yourself. No need to let things get out of hand. "Look. We're both working here. I don't want trouble."

He takes another step towards you. "Should've thought of that before you went and fucked with my head." You didn't notice before, but he towers over you. The rising anger makes it all the more unnerving.

"What?" You start cautiously, defenses up.

His face darkens. “What did you do to my head?"

"I don't...I don't know what you mean." Sorta. Really, you don't know what you did exactly. To you, all you did was take on his turmoil for the evening and hopefully give him a break. Everyone deserves a break sometimes. At least, you thought so.

"I came to that town," his voice lowers as he inches closer, "without a fucking clue who I was. I meet you. Now, I know everything. Why?" He’s in your face now, and it’s starting to scare you.

Your eyes widen once you put it together. "I really don't know what you're talking about. I just..." You try to form a proper thought, but the words lodge in your throat. Of all times, why now is your brain failing you?

Logan remains quiet, waiting for an answer.

You let out a breath. "Look. It’s part of my mutation," you finally say. “I can exchange my emotions for others’. I swear, that's all I did." He doesn't seem convinced. "You seemed like you needed a break. I figured I'd give you one." You take a step back, hoping to ease the tension just a little.

His brows furrow a little, trying to figure you out. Finally, he backs down. You notice the subtle desperation and guilt, now. It's buried under the anger, only obvious once it subsides. The empty look from that night returns as his gaze shifts to the floor. He backs up a little more before grabbing his duffle bag and walking away without a word. 

You take a deep lung-full of air once you think he's out of ear shot. What just happened?

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A/N: NOW the fun begins. Fun for me at least ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[incorporealbombchelle]

Friend Of The Family: Epilogue

When I wake up, the lights in Mr. Reed's bedroom have been turned off, the scented candle on the nightstand blown out. I'm sleep-warmed and a little hazy as I reach a hand around the bed next to me. Cold. Empty. Where is he? Rolling opposite, toward the edge of the bed, I fish my phone out of the pocket of my jeans. 4:09 a.m. Dad should be up in a couple hours.

I gather my clothes and hurriedly make my way into the guest bathroom, turning on the shower and ridding myself of last night's underwear. Taking a minute to scan my body in the mirror, I realize how tired I look - because I am, and I already know I'm probably going to be asleep most of the day. My thoughts are interrupted by the buzz of the phone on the vanity.

Reed: You're up early. Toast, coffee? x

Memories of last night's rendezvous fill my mind and a deep blush takes my features as I tap back : yeah down in a sec 💕

After my shower, I slip into a pair of pink flannel pajama pants and a tank top and make my way down to the kitchen, where Mr. Reed has set out my breakfast, but is nowhere to be found.

Me: thx 4 breakfast, btw where r u?

Reed: End of the hall, past the bust, door on the right. x

I take a sip of the coffee, -he remembered how I like it- and abandon the toast to find him. The hallway is dimly lit but bright light flows from under the door at the end and I let myself in.

"Hello?"

"(y/n), welcome."

He sits at a desk near the door scattered with a few different piles of books, journals, tinkering with something. I take a look around the room. It's a maze of dark shelves filled with all manner of books, records, magazines, and in the center, a large desk, on which sits a nearly burned down candlestick and behind which are two doors, one green and the other purple. There are a couple rows of what look to be pews, and a long, seemingly wine-stained Persian aisle runner, and while I'm all for meticulously curated decor, I can't quite place this room's purpose.

Taking a couple steps further in, I look around a bit more. Portraits of different religious figureheads line a wall and I notice a vinyl player off to one side of the room. "So is this like, your office or...?"

"Office. Sanctuary. Man-Cave. Whatever you like." He doesn't look up.

"Huh. Cozy. And why have I been summoned here at nearly 5am?"

"You woke up at nearly 5am, I heard your dainty little footsteps, and I figured that maybe... you'd like to open a gift, what do you say?"

"I say...yes, please" I beam, closing the door behind me and wandering behind his seat at the desk. He has a journal of barely legible scrawl open and I watch over his shoulder as Mr. Reed carves details into a small wooden figurine. Resting a hand over either of his shoulders, I set my chin on his head and he relaxes his arms, setting down the figure and carving knife. "Right. Take a seat just there," he gestures to the pews, "hold out your hands and close your eyes, please." He taps the tops of my hands and I do as he says.

Taking my seat and closing my eyes, I hear Mr. Reed shuffling through the room behind me and then feel him settling into the pew just beside me.

"Don't look yet, dear."

"I'm not, I swear," I laugh, feeling a weight settle into my palms, and run the tips of my fingers along the edge of it... thin... large.... square....

"Go on, then. Open."

I open my eyes and it dawns on me. It has to be a vinyl. Has to be. There's no way it's not.

I cautiously peel back one edge of the wrapping paper to see a gilded block letter 'Y' over a blue background. No fucking way. I quickly rip away the rest of the wrapping paper and in my hands sits the vinyl record cover of Lana's Born To Die : Paradise Edition... and in the left bottom corner, in gold looping script.... it's signed. My eyes go wide. I have to blink a few times to make sure this is really happening. Holding the record up to the light, the metallic script shifts and glimmers. It is real. She... she signed this. She held this. I scoff in shock, feeling tears sting the corners of my eyes.

"Well? Do you like it?"

"Thank you...so much... holy shit. How did you even get this?"

"Well, you'll remember that before the world shut down, at the height of her popularity, she used to do signings, meet-and-greets, that sort of thing... I've been to...many."

"I thought you didn't leave the house anymore?"

"Not for things like...groceries, or clothing, stupid things, but... for her, on occasion... I make an exception."

He smirks, proud of himself, and I can tell this is of the same sentimental value to him as it is to me.

"Mr. Reed, are you sure you want me to have this? You said it was one of your favorites... I can't take something like this from you..."

"Let me give you something I love, that we both do. That is what this is all about, after all."

"But I didn't get you anything-"

"Wrong. I'd say, (y/n), that your mere presence here, your personality, as pretentious, contrarian and apathetic as it's been, has been a great gift to me. So thank you, for the gift of allowing me to know you."

I attempt to blink away tears of joy but they come regardless and he wraps an arm around my shoulder as I wipe them away, "Merry Christmas, (y/n)." A kiss to the top of my head.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Reed."

He tips my chin up. Our eyes meet, and he leans in.

As we kiss, I feel one of his hands rest on the back of my neck and it occurs to me that this may be one of the last times I get to be with him like this before Dad and I head back to the city, and the Oxbridge winter break concludes.

Mr. Reed's tongue tastes like black coffee, and he smells of cardamom and clove. He takes the record from my hands, setting it aside and pulls away for a moment. "I'll miss this. You, being here..."

"After this...When will we see eachother again, in person I mean?"

"Well, they do still allow you a summer holiday, yes?"

"Yes..."

"I don't see why you wouldn't be able to fly in..."

"But it costs-"

"I'd pay for it. Happily. You are worth at least the price of a Heathrow-Boulder plane ticket, or maybe even the other way around..." he takes one of my hands in his, quirking an eyebrow at me.

"You'd come to see me?"

"If I absolutely have to, I don't see why not. Bit of nostalgia never hurt. "

"But what about in the meantime?" 

"We have phones, (y/n), E-mail addresses. I watched E-mail come into existence, and it hasn't failed me yet. I've known lovers who stayed in touch over oceans with much less than you and I have at our disposal." He smiles and the corners of his eyes crinkle and I bury my face in his chest to keep from crying. I couldn't have estimated how strongly I'd react to the idea of leaving.

Mr. Reed wraps his arms tightly around me, a hand drawing soothing circles into my back. "Come now, that's alright. Everything will be alright, (y/n). You have my word.  You'll see me sooner than you know."

I sniffle, breathing deep as I look up at him. "Okay. Yeah. I-I'm sorry I just, I really like being with you and-"

"I know. I feel the same. We'll have tomorrow," his voices drops to a whisper "We have tonight..."

He's right and after a couple minutes, we move back to the kitchen to prepare a Christmas Eve breakfast for Dad.

Christmas comes and Christmas goes.

I recieve a green leatherbound journal from Dad, 'To the next great American novelist: never stop.' 

He and Mr. Reed unknowingly gift eachother the exact same grey cashmere sweater, and on the morning of the 26th, we share a tearful goodbye.

Upon my return to the Oxford dormitories, I unpack the Christmas cookies and Lana Record he gave me. I feel myself tear up just looking at them and send a message over Whatsapp: miss you 🥺

Seconds later : And I you. Have you unpacked your things yet? x

Me: no, just the presents from you and from Dad.

Reed: You may want to do so, left a little something at the bottom of your suitcase for exactly this occasion. x

Me: what is it?

Reed: Unpack. x

I tear into the suitcase hastily, tossing clothes, books and toiletries around the room with total abandon until-

I see it.

There, at the bottom of my suitcase; an immaculately folded checkered cardigan.

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

Bad Sanses x Reader who is going to wear a very revealing Mrs. Claus costume for a Christmas party? (Maybe with some Jealousy and Mistletoe too >:3)

Featuring: Nightmare, Killer, Dust, Ted, Error, Cross

Masterlist

Nightmare

Back into the bedroom you go.

He's not letting you out wearing these revealing clothes and no you are not seeing a bulge on his pants it's just your imagination.

The king of negativity would never let his partner walk around with such provocative wearing... Especially with his servants around.. he doesn't want them staring at what's clearly his!

Nightmare doesn't let it slide- even if it seems he does throughout the night- just enjoy the party while you can, before your legs stop working for some time..

Killer

If I tell you that he decided to wear the same thing..

The rest of the gang definitely were eyeing you two up and down with a "what the fuck" expression, Ted may even ask what on earth are you two wearing.

"Whatcha mean? We're just matching."

Is it possible that he convinces you to make out in front of everyone? Maybe. Will Nightmare kick your butts if you do? Absolutely.

Ted

At first he doesn't really realize, of course he asks if what you're wearing isn't it too fresh for this epoch of the year? but he brushes it off.

Yet when he sees Killer flirting while holding a mistletoe up between you two, he doesn't think twice before snatching you away to the bedroom. There's a "talk" he wants to have with you..

It didn't take long for him to be rubbing himself against you, pinning your arms on top of your head with his claw while he leaves bite marks all over the visible skin.

Now, he may finish the job right there.. or let you go back to the party with his mark all over your body and needy for the rest of the night.. it depends on his mood at the time.

Dust

He comes from the shadows and hugs you from behind while you're putting the costume on.

"Where do you plan on going with that? Exactly, nowhere."

He's not the type to care about the clothes you wear, yet he's not going to let you go almost naked to the party, not with Killer there! So either you switch clothes or he entertains you with something else..

I mean it's not a surprise that you find yourself moaning into a pillow while Dust rapidly thrusts into you, is it? Seems like you two will open your gifts on the 26th this year..

Cross

Quick to find you a sweater to cover you up, how can you come so exposed to a party in the middle of the winter??

Now, Cross is no innocent, he knows what you're trying to do, but it won't work, not with him! Or will it?

It's so convenient that you're bending down to pick something up when only he is present in the room, don't you think?

Killer already told him- "It's a win Criss-Cross, you get your gift now or only next year huh?" Yet he's sure that's only Killer being slightly perverted, no way you got him to be a type of cupid did you??

In the end, you get what you wanted. He cursing you out while thrusting deep into you, congratulations I guess?

Error

Bitch cover yourself.

It's almost NEGATIVE temperature outside and you're wearing a top with a mini skirt?? OH HELL NO.

He's surprisingly giving you his coat. You better be grateful idiot, it isn't everyday the god of destruction gives his precious clothes to a mere mortal.

Error's eyeing you up and down without you noticing, you think you have the right to provoke him like this?

"Ʉ₲Ⱨ ..ɎØɄ ฿Ɇ₮₮ɆⱤ ₱Ɽ₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ⱧɆⱤɆ ฿Ɇ₵₳Ʉ₴Ɇ ł₥ Ⱨ₳Vł₦₲ ₦Ø ₱ł₮Ɏ Ø₣ ɎØɄ ₩ⱧɆ₦ ₩Ɇ ₲Ø ฿₳₵₭ ₮Ø ₮ⱧɆ ₳₦₮łVØłĐ ɎØɄ łĐłØ₮.."

[sulumuns-dootah]

23. 12. Gabriel - Prayer for two (18+)

      ༺☆༻

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

⋆꙳·❅‧The Yule festival of Hell 2‧❆ ₊⋆

A/N: Oh boy, we made it to the adult specials of the event! :D   This is the second time in a row that I mention character's ass despite it being my least fave of the horny trinity (tits, thighs, ass)

Warnings: Religious themes and possibly even sacrilege

‎‧₊˚✧ 18+ Minors Do Not Interact‎ ✧˚₊‧

      ༺☆༻

“Gabriel...?” you peek into what feels like the tenth room. You're looking for one of the Seraphims because shortly after the first day of celebrations' sermon you've noticed his sudden disappearance. After asking around if anyone's seen him, some lower ranked ones mentioned something about him hastily speed walking away.

You figured he maybe wanted to pray some more on his on time, but he wasn't in any of the other chapels. Not even his private one.

This had you worried. Did something happen to him? Maybe one of the despicable demons found its way to heaven in hopes to be tortured to death and Gabriel stepped away to swiftly get rid of it?

With a sigh you look around the common room of the three seraphims. Where in heaven could've he gone?

Just as you're about to turn to leave, you hear something like Gabriel's whimper... Huh? Maybe he's injured and needs a help.

Quickly, you stride over and reach for the ornate handle, but immediately freeze in spot when another vulnerable sound comes from the other side, “Nnngh~!” The sound comes out more as blissful than in pain, so instead, you decide to investigate quietly.

You open the door only as little as you need to peek your head into the room.

There you see Gabriel kneeling in front of a huge cross hung on the wall. The angel's form, despite being turned away from you, is visibly shaking and lightly spasming. It seems like his shirt is widely open and... his pants are undone from the way they loosely fall around his hips.

Only now you notice the frantic movements of his hands between his spread thighs and you gasp as silently as you can. Thankfully the sound of your surprise blends together with the fast breaths Gabriel takes.

You know you shouldn't be watching. Rather, you should be, frankly, sick. It's nowhere near that time of year when angels get together to pleasure themselves or each other for one night and one only. To see Gabriel disobeying God's rules in private should've made you want to retreat and tell one of the other seraphims, but instead... instead you just stand there and watch while the sounds of the clueless angel ignite a similar heat inside you.

Suddenly, Gabriel plants one of his hands on the floor in front of him, as if he's about to get up and your body jerks in preparation to flee. You quickly withdraw your head from the gap in the door and cover your mouth with both your hands so he doesn't hear the yelp that threatened to leave your lips on instinct.

But to your luck, the seraphim was only readjusting his position. Through the slightly open door, you can see Gabriel bracing himself on that very same hand and instead of moving his hand, it stays in place as his hips thrust into it.

The sight of the highest angel's ass muscles working to get himself closer to forbidden release makes your thighs clench. The involuntary action makes you slightly wobble and you make a tiny step back as to not fall over.

The blood in your veins suddenly freezes when the shift of your weight makes the floorboard creak loudly enough to alert the angel amidst his gasps, groans and occasional mewls.

Do you run? Do you start apologising and hope he doesn't execute you then and there?

“Aah~ Y/N! Had you come to join me for my private session of praising God?” the blonde seraphim returns to his previous position of sitting of kneeling with spread thighs and turns his head to see you just outside his room.

“I-! Uh..! I'm-I'm so sorry, I-!” you start frantically apologising and despite your mind telling you to back away, you instinctively walk forwards and closer to the source of your impending doom now that you've been discovered.

“Did you know? God doesn't mind pleasure as long as it is for him. So please, join me...” it's almost like he's luring you in and as much as you scream at your body to not get any closer, it enters the room and walks beside him.

The moment you're right beside him, about to kneel down by his side, you're quickly tugged down and positioned underneath Gabriel with his knees spreading your legs.

“Ha~! Did you know? Sometimes my mind wanders to you during my private prayers, Y/N.” he revels at the sight of you, dressed only in the very flowy gown required to be worn by all non-seraphims to sermons during the week of celebrations. The fabric is scarce and only covers all the vulgar parts, but from the sudden movement, some of it has shifted and is now allowing your body to be fully exposed to Gabriel.

“G-gabriel...We... We shouldn't...” you try to reason with him, still holding onto the idea that such act should be shameful, but he only silences you with a chuckle as he positions his caged length against your own heated flesh.

“Wo-worry not, little lamb...” the angel starts thrusting against your sensitive place in a quick motion, either to finish himself off or to catch you up to him. You don't know and honestly, soon enough don't even care once the cloud of bliss has taken over your mind.

The friction of metal against the fabric now stuck to your heat due to the wetness of your making is just the right amount to bring you closer and closer with each movement.

“O-oh God~! I-I'm close!” you gasp out once your skin starts to tingle with the familiar feeling and stars begin floating in the corners of your vision.

“Yes~! Yes! Do come with me, my divine sinner!” Gabriel praises as his composure quickly fades away and he has to support himself to not fall onto your and crush you. The last set of his now fully desperate thrusts make you move on the floor, blurring your vision, but you can't miss the beautiful white eyes rolling back as he comes with a strangled shout.

After finally coming down from both of your highs, you can't help but to peek at the slightly ajar door, which you've completely forgotten about in the heat of the situation. And surely enough, a set of red eyes and one blue with the other golden are peering into the room in a stern and judging way.

      ༺☆༻

But wait, this angel also has a gift for you!

"Did you know? God has given me and my brothers our weapons. You shall receive one too, then."

[razzmatash]

...With You Day 12 - “You are all I need tonight underneath the Christmas lights.” ...Sort of Love and Deepspace Sylus x f!OC 1406 Words Read on Ao3 banner by firefly-graphics

Waking slowly, Calli shifted under the covers, frowning to herself. Something didn’t feel right. Sliding her hand across the mattress, her frown deepened when she didn’t find Sylus. She lifted her head and squinted in the dark but she couldn’t see any lights on from the bathroom. “Sylus?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and pushing herself up in bed.

He wasn’t in the room that much was clear now. Tapping the beside lamp, she still looked around to confirm he wasn’t. Where had he gone? He’d been so insistent about her going to bed after she’d fallen asleep against his shoulder on the couch. She’d pushed herself too hard, according to him, and he was calling it a night. He’d carried her to bed and tucked her in, climbing in with her when she hadn’t settled down right away.

Except it had barely been ten so he wouldn’t have gone to sleep.

Pushing her hair away from her face, she frowned to herself. Was he out in the living room? Had he not stayed because he didn’t want to wake her up? The clock showed she’d been asleep for a couple hours so everyone else should have been asleep by now too. They’d all stayed so they could celebrate the holiday in the morning and so far as she was aware, his twins were crashing on the pull out couch. Would he go out there or-

Calli shivered as a faint breeze washed through the room and she watched the curtains stir from it. Was he outside? She swung her legs off the bed and scooped up a cardigan she’d tossed earlier to pull on before padding over to the glass doors. Quietly peeking out, she wasn’t entirely surprised to see him on the balcony, leaning on the railing and watching the city below him.

“Sylus?” she said softly, not sure if she should disturb him. He’d clearly gone out here to be alone.

He didn’t say anything but he turned just enough to hold out a hand to her.

Shuffling across the balcony, she didn’t complain about the cold on her feet as she took his hand. He moved her to stand in front of him, tucking her close while he continued to watch the city. She looked at him over her shoulder before looking out as well when he still stayed quiet.

They were up high enough that it gave a wonderful view of everything in the area. Her favourite was the park nearby because the city would always light up the trees and she enjoyed watching them twinkle in the relative darkness. But it wasn’t just them. Other balconies had lights and decorations strung up, some curtains open to show the trees lit up inside for people that were still awake. There were little pockets of holiday cheer no matter where you looked.

“It’s different from what I’m used to,” he said quietly, his voice rumbling through her. “Even if people in the N109 celebrate the holidays, they do it privately. There’s no outward sign that something is happening for fear of it being taken advantage of or ruined.”

Calli listened, her heart aching a little. The Zone was filled with all kinds of people, many who hadn’t asked to be there but were there anyways. Because there was nowhere else to go. She knew she couldn’t fix it even if she tried but the holidays were special to her. With how busy her family had been, it was the one time they had all always agreed that they would be together. No matter what was happening, they would get together for the holiday.

“In all the years I’ve been there, I’ve never celebrated anything. I never wanted to,” he admitted. “There was no reason to. Even when the twins came, they didn’t know what a normal routine was either. They did small things with each other, tried to prank me the first few years, but nothing like this. Nothing like what the last few weeks have been.”

The last few weeks had been hectic to say the least and she suddenly wondered if she should have eased him into it a little more gently. “I’m sorry if it was too much,” she said softly.

He ducked his head, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t too much. It showed me a different side of you I hadn’t seen yet.”

Was that a good thing? Calli smiled wryly. “I don’t know how I should take that. I’ve been a little crazy the last few weeks.”

“Because it mattered to you and you wanted it to matter for me.”

That was true but it didn’t excuse it if she’d crossed a line. The arm around her belly tightened as he inhaled deeply, dropping a kiss on her neck that made her shiver.

“You didn’t need to do that,” he said quietly. “I told you you didn’t but you did it anyways.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you alone on the holiday,” Calli protested.

“The holidays don’t matter to me.”

She tried to twist to look at him but he kept her right where she was. “Sylus-”

“They don’t matter,” he repeated. “To me they’ve always been made up days that people use as an excuse to be together. You shouldn’t need an excuse for that. I don’t need an excuse for it. But they matter to you so I wanted to see why. I wanted you to show me why they mattered.”

“They matter because of the people I want to share them with.”

“And you wanted to share it with me.”

“Maybe we had a rocky start, Sylus, but if you think for one fucking second, you don’t matter to me, I’m going to throw you off this balcony.”

He chuckled, deep and low, and moved to press a kiss to her ear. “Odd way to show affection, sweetie.”

“You like it.”

He didn’t deny it and kissed her again. “They still don’t matter to me,” Sylus said after a moment.

She bit her lip to keep from reflexively saying anything. He wasn’t done and if she interrupted him, she wouldn’t get the rest of it.

“But what matters to me is that you shared it with me. You made space in your life, in your rituals, to include me. You went out of your way to do so. That you’re willing to do that for me...that’s what matters to me.” He paused, rubbing his cheek against her hair. “You’re what matters to me.”

Her breath caught as he gripped her chin between chilly fingers and turned her just enough so she could see him. “Sylus.”

“All I need is you, Calliope,” he said quietly. “Nothing else matters so long as I have you.”

She didn’t know what she was trying to say, words jumbled in her throat, before he kissed her. It was slow and deep, his teeth nipping at the plush of her lower lip before his tongue swiped over it soothingly. He slid it against her own, holding her captive while he took his time with her. One hand fisted in his shirt, holding onto him as the world dropped away around her. There was only him.

She managed to get out his name as he lifted his mouth from hers but that was all before he claimed her again. The hand on her chin slid back into her hair, burying in the curls to hold her steady as she began to tremble.

When he finally eased back from her, it was only far enough to press his forehead to hers. His gaze was heavy on her as he watched her gasp for air, taking in all of her. “I don’t need presents,” he said softly. “You are my present.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a small breath. “We’re still going on the trip,” she pushed out.

She didn’t need to see him to know he was smiling before he kissed the tip of her nose. “We’re still going on the trip,” he agreed, his grip around her waist moving to band around her thighs and lift her up. “I’m looking forward to unwrapping my present.”

Not opening her eyes as he carried her back inside, Calli hung onto Sylus and told herself to just breathe. Considering what all she had bought for him to ‘unwrap’, she’d be lucky to survive the trip.