#and then came coloring the snowflake thing...

[lukochi]

Crocheted cat :3

[fandoms-x-reader]

Wearing Their Clothes

Headcannons

Summary: The brothers' reactions to seeing you wear an article of their clothing.

Of all the things that surprised you in the Devildom, one of the biggest shocks was the fact that it had weather just like the Human Realm. Of course, there were many representations of what “Hell” looked like. You just never saw one that showed it raining or snowing there. So, when large snowflakes started falling, to say you were both shocked and confused would be an understatement.

You were still at RAD when it started snowing. There had been a mandatory student council meeting; and, afterwards, Lucifer had asked you to stay behind and help him with some paperwork.

Diavolo had asked Lucifer to have the exchange students fill out a survey on how their time in the Devildom had been so far; and, since you were already with him, he thought yours would be the easiest to fill out.

He was pleasantly surprised when you had nothing but praise to give Lucifer. He wore a proud smile as you talked about how much you’ve been enjoying your time in the Devildom. He loved hearing you talk about it - each commendation making him feel the all-too-familiar emotion that had been bestowed upon his demon form. 

He was having such a great time, in fact, that he didn’t realize how late it had gotten until he looked out the window and noticed how dark it was outside. 

“We must have lost track of time,” Lucifer told you before offering to walk with you back to the House of Lamentation. Not that you had a choice in the matter. After all, it was far too dangerous for you to walk back by yourself.

The second you stepped outside of RAD, you immediately regretted it. The cold air bit at your skin as the snow continued to fall. You cursed yourself for not bringing a jacket; but, how were you supposed to know that it was going to snow in the Devildom today.

You walked silently alongside Lucifer, doing your best to keep your teeth from chattering. Lucifer studied you as the two of you walked. You were usually more chatty. Was something wrong?

He looked at your appearance. Your complexion was flushed, your body slightly shivering. Lucifer raised an eyebrow as suddenly he understood what was happening - you were cold.

Lucifer was immediately taking off his large fur cape and offering it to you. The gesture warmed your heart, but you declined. He needed it or else he would be cold - you argued. Lucifer would make an argument about how much more fragile humans were than demons and then tell you, “Besides, I can’t have you die from the cold. It would be a bad look for Lord Diavolo.”

You chuckled at his words before agreeing, realizing Lucifer wasn’t going to back down. He helped place his cape over your shoulders, securing it in place. You were immediately thankful for the warmth the cape provided - the color almost instantly returning to your cheeks.

Lucifer couldn’t help but smile as he looked at you in his cape - the sheer size of it nearly enveloping your entire body. The snow fell on top of you, your hair and eyelashes being coated in white. You looked beautiful. 

Lucifer admired you the whole way home, hoping that it would snow more often in the Devildom so that he could see you in his cape more often.

Mammon liked to spend a lot of time in your room. After all, he was your “first” so why shouldn’t he be allowed in there whenever he liked. He would spend countless hours in there with you. It didn’t matter what the two of you were doing, as long as you were hanging out. Some nights, by the time you were done, it would be so late that he would just stay the night in there.

So, it was no surprise when he accidentally left one of his shirts in your room. It was just a plain, black t-shirt. Nothing truly identifiable about it. Because of that, you had accidentally mistaken it for one of your shirts. 

Mammon however knew the difference. He had been looking for that shirt, not knowing where he had misplaced it.

He came to check for it in your room, barging in without knocking. “Oi, Y/N,” he began but stopped realizing the room was empty. He heard the faint sound of water running coming from the bathroom and realized you were taking a shower. He sat down on your bed, deciding to wait for you.

He scrolled on his D.D.D. for a while until the water turned off. Then a few minutes later, you came out of the bathroom - wearing his shirt.

Mammon felt his heart stop as his eyes were glued to you, his D.D.D. long forgotten about. You were surprised to see Mammon sitting in your room and you were about to say something when you noticed the deep red blush that coated his cheeks as he sat there looking incredibly flustered. “Mammon, are you okay?”

He wouldn't answer your question. Instead, he asked, “I-Is that my shirt?!” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked down at the black shirt you were wearing, now recognizing it as his. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you told him.

Mammon was a mess. The shirt clung to your body in the best way possible, leading Mammon’s mind to wander to different images of you in that shirt…and out of it. Noticing his expression you said, “I can change.”

“N-No!” Mammon said, jumping off the bed now. That was the last thing he wanted. Realizing his slip-up, Mammon tried to quickly cover his tracks by saying, “Just be grateful that the great Mammon is letting ya wear his clothes!”

When he does get his shirt back, he immediately notices that it smells like you, something that makes him smile. He will never wear it again or wash it. 

Levi was never supposed to find out.

You were doing a cosplay outfit for one of your favorite animes. You had made several videos online and had gotten a decent amount of likes. You loved it and the amount of online support you got encouraged you to do more and more outfits.

Well, it just so happened that the character you were trying to portray had a specific blue and orange jacket. It was pertinent to the character; but, you had nothing similar. So, you began brainstorming ideas on what you could do to try and replicate the clothing item.

Then, it suddenly dawned on you. You had seen Levi wearing a jacket with the same colors. It wasn’t an exact match but it would be close enough. 

You took in a deep breath as you made your way to the coat closet in the House of Lamentation, praying it was there. 

To your luck, when you opened the door, amongst the miscellaneous other coats, it was hanging up in the closet. You let out a small breath of relief. You reached your hand out to take the jacket but hesitated. Levi would probably freak if he saw you wearing his jacket. But, you really needed it.

You debated the pros and cons of taking the jacket.. One on hand, if you went and asked Levi if you could borrow the jacket, he would most likely mumble something about normies before declining out of embarrassment. Then you would be out of luck. However, if you just borrowed the jacket for a few minutes - just to make the video. Then, you could put it back and he’d never know.

Deciding that was the best course of action, you quickly took the jacket and headed back up to your room. You put the jacket on as the finishing touch and looked in the mirror. Perfect.

You began recording the video, making sure to have the perfect lighting and angle. When you were done, you rewatched it, satisfied with the results. Alright, time to put Levi’s jacket back.

“Hey, Y/N, what-,” Levi suddenly came rushing into the room. Both of you froze in shock. Was that…his? “Levi!” you said, nervously looking at him. You had been caught.

“I can explain,” you told him as his eyes widened and a blush coated his cheeks. Not only were you wearing his clothes like some normie couple, but you looked good in it. 

“I was making a cosplay video and I needed to borrow it,” you admitted. “C-Cosplay?” Levi asked, stuttering out his words as he tried to comprehend the situation.

He let out a small scream as he recognized the character you were dressed up as. It was from one of the animes he recommended to you. His eyes then trailed to the video that was still playing on your D.D.D.

You slowly took off his jacket and handed it back to him, blushing slightly. “Sorry, for taking it without asking.”

Levi took the jacket, not sure what to say. So he said the first thing that came to his mind. “Y-You’re missing the sunglasses.”

What? Levi looked back at the video again and you understood. Of course! You were missing the sunglasses for the cosplay. You knew you were missing something!

“I-I have a pair that might match,” Levi said, offering you back his jacket. If you were going to make a cosplay video, he was going to be part of it.

“That would be great!” you replied. Levi quickly left to retrieve the sunglasses as you put his jacket back on. He returned within moments, handing you the sunglasses. You put them on the way the character would and Levi asked if he could help you record the video to which you were unbelievably grateful for. 

Levi was smiling the whole time he helped. He couldn’t believe how talented you were in your impression of the character. More importantly, he couldn’t believe you were wearing his clothes!

You were sitting in Satan’s room reading a book while you waited for him to return. The two of you had been spending the afternoon together. You were reading one of your favorites, and he had been doing the same until about a few minutes ago. He had just finished his book and told you he was going to go to the library to get another book. He promised he would return shortly but it had already been several minutes.

You were huddled up underneath a blanket, but you were still cold. It felt like Satan’s room had no heat whatsoever. You let out a small sigh as you tore your eyes from the page, glancing around the room for anything that could help you warm back up. 

You couldn’t see any blankets, but you noticed one of Satan’s sweaters sitting not too far from you. You let out a small sigh as you turned the idea over and over in your head. He wouldn’t be mad if you borrowed it, right? Not if you told him you were cold. 

You wanted to ask Satan’s permission, so you waited a few more minutes, but when you realized he wasn’t going to be coming back for a while - you decided to risk it. 

You quickly jumped out of the blanket and moved over to the sweater. You picked it up carefully, admiring the material before slipping it over your head. You noticed that it smelt like Satan, the scent making you feel like you were enveloped in his arms. 

You clutched the sweater a little closer to you before moving back to your spot and huddling underneath the blanket. You opened your book back up to the spot you were at and got lost in the fictional world once again.

You were so distracted by the words on the page that you didn’t notice when Satan entered the room. He was about to announce his presence when he noticed the familiar article of clothing that you were wearing. 

His cheeks turned pink as he looked at you wearing his sweater. You looked so adorable curled up under the blanket, reading a book, while wearing his clothes. It warmed his heart. Satan moved over to you, doing his best to hide his smile. 

He sat down next to you and you had completely forgotten that you were wearing his sweater. As if it was second nature to do so. “Did you find a book?” you asked him.

Satan nodded his head before telling you, “I’m really excited to see how this turns out.” You smiled in response, thinking he was talking about the book. He wasn’t so sure.

From now on, if you were in his presence and looked the slightest bit cold, he would immediately offer you his sweater, wanting to see you in his clothes more often.

Asmo was the resident fashion designer in the House of Lamentation. Whenever someone needed advice on an outfit, they immediately turned to him.; and, it was no secret why. His fashion advice was always on point. He could turn the dullest of outfits into a beautiful masterpiece. 

Tonight, Asmo had invited you to dinner at a new restaurant that had open. They asked him to attend with a plus one to bring more business. After all, he had tons of fans who would go to the restaurant just to see him.

Asmo had asked you to be his plus one, and you couldn’t have been more excited. Until he told you how many people would be looking at the two of you and taking pictures. Then, nerves set in as you began panicking about what to wear.

“Don’t worry! I’ll help you!” Asmo comforted, taking you by your hand to your room. He would have you put on a mini-fashion show for him, trying on multiple different outfits to try and find the right one. But, nothing you had quite fit the vibe of the restaurant. 

Asmo thought for a moment, until he came up with an idea. He had the perfect outfit for you! Asmo quickly brought you to his room, pulling out the outfit and handing it to you. He ushered you into his bathroom, telling you to try it on.

When you did, you were surprised at how well it fit - and how good it looked. You stepped out of the bathroom and at first, Asmo didn’t say anything. He just stared at you, a large smile spreading across his face.

“How do I look?” you asked after the silence began to grow awkward. Asmo tried to keep his composure as the thought of you wearing his clothes in public threatened to spark his sin. “That’s the one!” Asmo told you excitedly before helping you do your make-up. By the end of it all, the two of you looked like you had walked straight off the pages of a magazine. 

You made your way to the restaurant and when you got there, you were met with countless cameras. It seemed like everyone wanted to capture the restaurant’s grand opening.

Asmo grabbed your hand as the cameras started flashing, documenting yours and Asmo’s presence. He led you into the restaurant, his smile only growing larger as he thought about you wearing his outfit. The photos would forever document that you were wearing his clothes.

It was a complete accident. 

You had left the House of Lamentation while it was warm out, so you didn’t think to bring an umbrella. Who would?

Well, apparently, it was the biggest mistake you could have made because on your way home, you had found yourself in the middle of a rainstorm. You had no protection from it, the droplets soaking you from head to toe.

You began running to the House of Lamentation, letting out a sigh of relief as you made it to the front door. You quickly entered, thankful to be out of the storm. Then you heard someone behind you. “I see you forgot your umbrella.” You jumped as you turned around and saw Lucifer standing there.

A small blush coated your cheeks as you were embarrassed of the state you were currently in. Lucifer asked you to go to the laundry room so that you didn’t track water everywhere and you agreed, making a beeline towards the room.

When you got there, you quickly took off your wet clothes. You looked around the large room for your basket of laundry, confused when you couldn’t find it.

Then, you realized you had taken it to your room earlier to finish folding the clean clothes. Could this day get any worse.

So, here you were standing naked in the House of Lamentation's laundry room, contemplating how you ended up here. 

You had to come up with something quick before one of the brothers accidentally walked in on you. 

Looking to your right, you saw a large black t-shirt with a design on it. You quickly picked it up, examining it. You had seen Beel wearing it at some point. You held it up to you and noticed that it was so big compared to you. It would be enough to cover you until you could make it to your room. 

You quickly slipped Beel’s shirt on, double-checking that everything was covered before opening the door. All you had to do was make it to your room without being seen. Easy, right?

You turned out of the laundry room, immediately bumping into a large figure. The force caused you to stumble back as you felt two large arms steady you. You looked up to see Beel, looking at you like a confused puppy as he took in your appearance. 

You immediately began blushing as he asked, “Are you wearing my shirt?” Your mind tried to explain the situation, but your words merely came out as a series of stuttered words before you gave up. “It’s a long story,” you told him defeatedly.

Beel could see that you had a long day and he didn’t want to make it worse. So, he didn’t question you any further. Besides, he had to admit it made him feel flustered, seeing you in his clothes. He thought it was adorable how his shirt looked like it was going to swallow you up at any moment.

“Keep it as long as you need,” Beel told you with a small smile. You were thankful that Beel didn’t make things any more awkward as you pushed past him to go to your room.

Beel entered the laundry room to get the rest of his clothes and noticed your discarded clothes. His cheeks felt hot as realized that you were completely nude underneath his shirt. 

He did his best to push out intrusive thoughts as he made his way back to his room, his clean laundry in his arms.  

Revenge.

When it came to you and Belphie, you were sure that was the only reason you did anything anymore. 

Belphie liked to act like a brat and decided to do things he knew would frustrate you because he liked to see the way you would react.

So, he decided to start a prank war with you. But, you were not a pushover; and, you were going to make sure Belphie realized that once and for all. 

So, when he started pulling minor pranks. You let him think he was getting the best of you, until you had pulled a much larger prank on him. You had surprised Belphie with your creativity and your tenacity. But, he wasn’t ready to back down either.

Minor pranks turned into much more serious ones, the two of you so wrapped up in your war that you could hardly pay attention to anything else.

You had just pulled your latest prank of Belphie the day before. You were waiting anxiously for Belphie to pull his prank, constantly watching your back. 

He could strike from anywhere at any time. 

It was getting late, so you had decided Belphie wasn’t going to pull his prank today. You went to your bedroom to go to bed.

However, as soon as you opened the door to your room, you immediately regretted it as a large bucket off water poured on top of you. You let out a small gasp as your clothes were completely drenched. Really?!

You let out a small scoff as you immediately began thinking of retaliation pranks, making your way to your closet to change into a dry pair of clothes.

But, when you got there, you saw that the closet was completely empty. Belphie had taken all of your clothes.

You were fuming as you made your way to the Twin’s Room, bursting through the door to find Belphie in there by himself, lounging on his bed with a smile. 

“Where are my clothes?” you asked him, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Belphie replied, smirking back at you.

“All of my clothes are gone,” you stated, knowing full well that he was the culprit. “It looks like you’ll just have to sleep in your wet clothes then,” Belphie replied, turning his attention to his D.D.D.

You glared at him, anger coursing through your veins. He was not winning this one. After realizing Belphie wasn’t going to give you your clothes back, you came up with a new idea.

“Fine,” you told him, marching over to his closet. Belphie tore his eyes away from D.D.D to look up at you. “What are you doing?” he asked, watching your every move.

“If I can’t wear my clothes, then I’ll just have to wear yours,” you replied, stripping your shirt off before putting his on. The rage you were feeling was clouding your mind to the point where you didn’t even realize you had just undressed in front of Belphie.

Belphie most definitely realized though, the image of your half-naked body being seared into his mind as he looked at you in shock.

You then changed into a pair of Belphie’s sweatpants and his cheeks were stained pink as he tried to comprehend what was happening. Luckily, the shirt had covered most of what he would have seen. But, his imagination was running wild. 

You turned to face him, wearing his clothes and his eyes traced every inch of you. You wore a satisfied smirk as you locked eyes. “Good night,” you stated, walking back out of the twins room, a blush on your cheeks at the way Belphie was looking at you. You won.

[seattlesellie]

⋆˙ ♡ b l u e b e r r y p i e ♡⋆˙

pairing: farm!ellie williams x fem!reader

an: drabble based on a small request but i cannot find it ᥫ᭡

warnings: smut (mdni), daddy kink, housewife kink, slight spit play, dom!ellie, sub!reader

ellie's breath hung in the frigid air, visible puffs of white against the backdrop of the forest. the thick layer of snow muffled her steps as she treaded cautiously, her boots sinking with each weighty stride. she gripped her bow tightly, fingers calloused, the biting wind whipped through the trees. she scanned the landscape with piercing eyes, hoping to spot even the faintest trace of movement. but the forest, remained still, its inhabitants hidden away. ellie's grip tightened on the bow, her resolve strengthening amidst the disappointment. she wouldn't return empty-handed; she wouldn't let her promise slip away like the snowflakes that melted against her heated skin.

the sound of her boots stomping against the floor enter the house before she does. you hear her steps, as she paces on the entryway— right on the porch. she takes a deep breath, opens the door and it creaks. it fucking sucked out there, it was bone chilling cold, she couldn’t find a deer to kill, not even a goddamn rabbit, and it dawns upon her. you had told her you’d wanted a feast, it was nearing on christmas time, and she failed, again. dough filled pastries and pasta is all you two were going to eat for the next two weeks, until the snow starts clearing up and the animal’s crawl out of their sheds.

she doesn’t need to huff, or to even mutter a word, for you to know the state that she’s in. all it takes is that deep sigh, as soon as the door bangs and shuts close behind her. she doesn’t greet you with her usual “look what i got, babe” wiggling her eyebrows— because she knows how much you dislike seeing her hold those animals whilst they’re hanging dead from her hand, their fur disheveled and spotted with blood. all she does is throw the keys on the table, and takes her mud filled boots off of her feet, placing them right besides the door. she crosses her arms over her chest, and watches you intently.

warm, vegetable soup is boiling inside the pot, and besides it, lay two warm bowls of white rice. it’s below forty degrees outside, and yet— your body is impeccably adorned with a milky white, frilly apron. two tiny cream-colored bows are nestled on the sides, right where your waist meets the string. her lips almost curl up to a smile, because no matter how cold it is outside, no matter how glossy her eyes get from the wind, nose red from the snow laying atop it, your home will always be warm— you, will always be warm, and truthfully? that’s all she truly cares about. you grant the soup one last swirl, before turning the flame down, and you give ellie a moment to herself too, before you turn around and greet her. you know she doesn’t like it when you see her upset. a moment passes, and then two, and there’s that deep sigh.

“hey” she murmurs, and her voice is a tad harsh, it has a raspiness to it from the weather outside. you do not respond, nor do you turn around. you signal her to come closer with your hand, and again— there’s that thing her lips do, when they curl up to a smile that she’s trying to hide. she’s not supposed to be smiling, she came home empty handed, but damn you, always making her body form those involuntary reactions. she paces towards you slowly, small steps as her socks meet the wooden floor, and again— it creaks, this place is so damn old.

you take a wooden spoon, give the soup another swirl, and this time, you scoop it out with some warm, liquid deliciousness for her to savor. you can’t help but smile, when she stands besides you with her hand on the countertop and her legs crossed together. “have a taste” you grin, and your voice is warm and saccharine and it makes her forget— that she came back home empty handed. she shuts her eyes for a moment, before blowing on the spoon. you swallow a giggle, as her red-from-the-cold lips form a small puckering movement, and she responds with a huff and a small giggle herself. she can’t help it, and a drop of the soup leaks out of the spoon from the air her nose blows.

she takes it in her mouth, and hums when it hits her tastebuds. “taste’s amazing”; and you know it does, but still, your cheeks heat up at the compliment. “thank you” you reply, and it’s small but it’s sweet. she wants to tell you that you’re fucking adorable, standing here in your apron and cooking her food, but she feels quite shitty, so she doesn’t. “and… made some rice too” you note, gesturing with a finger, poking at one of the bowls. she smiles softly, but its not a real one. she blinks, and breathes deeply. “i’m not really hungry”. ellie looks down, and tugs at the bottom of your dainty apron. you stand there for a while, and it’s a moment of understanding. she stares at the floor, and the corner of her mouth twitches. it’s gnawing at her, and you know it. she feels guilt ridden, and you know that as well. you don’t begin the conversation yourself, tiptoeing around it as if it doesn’t exist. “ellie…” you sigh, breathy— and she immediately turns her face around to the opposite direction. you’re presented with her left, freckles splattered cheek. you caress it with the pad of your thumb, slowly, delicately, her skin still cold, and she winces. her eyebrows furrow, and a small line forms between them. she grabs your hand, places her calloused one on top of it, and peels it off her face. she doesn’t get abrasive, she’s gentle, but she needs it off. she feels too culpable, to deserve your touch. “i feel fucking useless” she puffs, and she doesn’t look you in the eyes when she says it. her eyes are closed, her bottom lip between her teeth. you bring your hand over again, to brush a short hair strand away from her face, and it’s still wet from the rain, or from the snow— you wouldn’t know, it’s coal black outside, it’s only the wind that sneaks itself inside from the tiny hole on the window’s glass, that turns the weather in. you can't help but smile, a soft chuckle escaping from your lips. useless, would be the last thing you could describe ellie as.

“i’m sorry… ellie, you’re being ridiculous”, and this time, she doesn’t push you away, she lets your hand play with the loose strand of hair, twirling it around your finger. she sighs, and lifts her chin up. it quivers slightly, and she rolls her eyes. you notice a certain twinkling glisten in her them, and god— she’s trying to halt the tear threatening to stream down her cheek, and flow like a bantam river. it doesn’t leak out, just finds home on her waterline. before she replies, she shakes her head. “i’m not being ridiculous, you… you fucking do everything for me— you cook for me, and you fucking clean, and…” she stops, and finally, she looks at you. “and i know your fucking back hurts, because you hang the fucking laundry— every day“ she’s rambling, and you’re watching with a soft expression, tilting your head. “every day, you do all of these fucking things, and i’m supposed to provide for you” she points at your chest, and the tear on her waterline finally gives in and takes a drive— lands directly on her top lip.

you’re speechless, doe eyed. you know she’s wrong, but you let her finish. “you… were…” with your finger on her lip, you wipe the tear away. she sighs deeply, and takes your hand in her’s, intertwining her fingers with yours. “you were supposed to bake that… shepherds pie, for christmas. and you were so fucking excited about it, you told dina, and fucking maria and tommy and now—“ she stops, and looks down on the wooden floor. its killing her. “because of me, you can’t” you open your mouth, attempting to sneak a word in, to protest, but she doesn’t let you. she’s stubborn. “because i’m fucking useless” and it stings, but it also… tugs, at your heartstrings, in the warmest, possible way. a tear threatens to erupt from your form as well. throat feeling clogged, you want to coo at her, explain, again— how ridiculous she’s being. how much you love how she cares, this… this is better than a shepherd’s pie, her love is better than everything you’ve ever tasted, you don’t need anything, anything other than her. instead of telling her that, instead of bursting into tears in a declaration of love, you mutter something else. you know that she knows how much you love her— now, you need to be practical, find a solution to the problem she had created.

“blueberry pie”

her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“blueberry pie?”

you bob your head up and down twice before continuing, and now— it’s getting harder to hide your smile.

“i’ll bake a blueberry pie.” your voice is even sweeter than you had intended for it to come out, dulcet, dripping with honey… and blueberry jam.

she scoffs and adverts her look to the side, before placing her forehead on yours.

“but you were so fucking… excited, about having maria taste your shepherds pie…”

you cut her off, again, and nudge her shoulder. “are you saying… my blueberry pie isn’t as good?”

she rolls her eyes, playfully, you know that’s not what she meant. “everything you cook is fucking delicious…” she takes a deep breath, and the soft smile plastered on her face washes off. she’s grounded with reality, again. “but… i just… feel fucking powerless, like i can’t do shit for you” it’s foolish, really— she had just fixed the doorknob in the upstairs bathroom, built a goddamn patio, all by herself, and… powerless? you about pout, taken back from what she had said.

“powerless?… oh, ellie…”

she sniffles, and she wants to reply, determined to explain, she is powerless, this is all her fault, no fucking shepherds pie, she practically feels like the grinch who stole christmas, but you won’t let her succumb to her own wrath. you plant a kiss, a small, delicate one, right on her cheek. your bottom lip strokes her skin before you pull away, only to form a nest on her the crook of her neck. when you breathe her in, she smells of mud, of leaves, leathery and smokey. you take her in, brush the tip of your nose on her pulse, and you can feel, and almost see— the fine hairs standing up. she shudders, and places a tremor held hand on the small of your back. with one palm on her left shoulder, and the other on her right one, you pull her in. her mouth airs a small noise, almost a whimper but barely a sigh— a mixture of both. it escapes from her throat, and she brushes her thumb on you waist, up and down.

“you are everything…” now, you whisper in her ear, and she shudders. “but powerless” you breathe in, and kiss that one sweet spot behind her ear, you know it’s her favorite. a low grunt escapes her lips, and she squeezes your waist. as you trail soft, gentle as butterflies kisses on the side of her neck, she closes her eyes, and lets you soak her in. your soft chest is pressed against her’s, and she feels that “powerless” feeling depart from her body, like a violent swarm fleeing her chest. “do you know… how much power, you have over me?” your voice is ever so soft, and ever so… submissive. oh, she thinks she knows, but she's not sure.

her hand, maneuvers itself from the small of your back to lay just above your ass, her palm just resting there, caressing the fabric of the soft skirt you donned. with her chin resting on your shoulder, you continue your submission. “do you?” you mewl, and you want her to say yes, to accept it, but she doesn’t. “no” she replies, and truthfully, she only yearns to hear you say it. you plant another kiss on her neck, but this time, it’s an open mouthed one, with your tongue poking out, the soft muscle licking her flesh, making ellie let loose of a long, suppressed groan, to bite her lip as her eyes roll back.

“i think you do know…” and you truly can’t find the words, not when you’re that close, not when you breathe in her scent— not when her hand is on top of your ass, kneading the flesh now, just above the skirt. you whisper, a soft, breathy string of “you know… ellie” and when she takes the soft globe between her fingers, and squeezes, you finally breathe it out, oh god—

“daddy”

the low, throaty groan escapes almost automatically, a knee-jerk reaction, she feels the obscene nickname send a lighting strike between her legs, in her heart, in her brain— this is exactly what she needed to hear. your daddy, the only fucking one who can make you go like this, go this dumb and this needy and this eager to please. a harsh, ringing slap on your ass, still covered by the soft material, follows that very same groan. her other hand moves lower to knead it between her fingers again, clawing at the flesh, marking it as her’s. you mewl it again, “daddy”, and its breathless now, unable to stop, longer and needier— and the ring of the word “fuck”, that she mutters as a response, is bordering on primal.

“yeah?” she voices, raspy and deep, and you know you have clouded her mind now. powerless… who? you hum, when she grabs your tit between her hand, tugs at it and squeezes, twitches the nipple right over your bra, she knows exactly where it is, and exactly how hard to pinch it for her to hear her favorite sound in the whole entire world, that high pitched moan of her name. “let me show you, y—eah?” you stutter, and although it is not even a question, it sounds like you’re begging. “say it again” ellie orders, and although it is phrased as an order, it sounds like she’s begging. “daddy…” you whisper in her ear, kissing and licking her lobe, making her whimper a long, breathy sound of your name.

it is again, primal— how quickly and fervently she peels off the straps of your top, letting the skirt cascade off of your body— and when it comes to the frilly, little apron; “keep it on”, only taking the top part of it off, so your tits can spill out, on full display for ellie. before she takes the soft, silky smooth mounds between her lips— she spits, letting the string of her own saliva stream on the flesh, before it reaches your nipples, teasing her and flowing oh so slowly, before making the tender, now-hard buds glisten with slick. with her forehead on yours, her gaze is fixated upon them. you can feel her heartbeat, growing faster and faster. “fucking christ” she huffs, before smearing her spit on your nipples with the pad of her thumb. you wince and squeal when she flicks them left and right. “so sensitive, s’fucking cute” she coos, before latching her needy mouth onto them, sucking them in, leaving dark, purple marks the harder she sucks. she takes the nipple between her teeth, bites— here’s that fucking squeal of yours again, so she moans, never neglecting the other tit, her fingers toying with the nipple, moving it in small circles so you fucking cunt can feel it. with a loud “ahh” sound, she takes the sensitive bud out of her mouth.

when she looks at you, staring into your eyes, with a look that’s so impatient, and hungry, with a look that says “you’re fucking mine”, and "i fucking own you", you bite your lip so hard it almost draws blood. doe eyed, she takes your chin between her index and her pointer. she doesn’t need to mutter a word, before you’re down on your knees, hitting the floor with a thud. that’s ought to leave a mark. nevertheless, she’d love it, all of it. when she towers over you, with that dark gaze and those burning green eyes, it’s hard not to feel small, and powerless. except, you have all the power in the world. letting her have this, have you, that’s more powerful than it all.

she pats the top of your head, rubs it, and waits for your next move. you place your head on her thigh, and caress it, letting the harsh material of her jeans burn through your cheek. “there she is…” she coos, teasingly so, and places her thumb on your lower lip. she grazes it from side to side, toying with the plush, damp flesh.

“suck”

oh, you do. you suck it so hard you’re almost biting it, your cheeks hollowing, keeping your eyes on her while the obscene noises of her thumb inside of your mouth fill the room, wet and nasty and loud. she stares down, nodding to you, her nods saying “that’s my good girl” but her mouth shut and formed in a tight line, groaning as if you’re sucking on her goddamn cock, making that tickling pain right between her legs, covered by too many layers of fabric, grow more and more distracting. you can feel it too— that sensation, deep in your core. its hard, it's almost impossible, not to begin humping the floor. her pupils grow even larger in size when you start moaning around her thumb, worshipping it, worshipping her. she watches you, her mouth agape, chasing your eyes, and when you close them ever so slightly, she takes a sharp breath. "look at you..." she coos, and you know she means look at how pathetic you are, look at the drool running down your chin, making a mess, all for her. she gives a hum of satisfaction, and takes her thumb out of your mouth.

when you look at her again, you're transfixed, mind foggy with your eyes lazily half shut. she nods her head up and down, because she knows what you yearn to do next. you don't have to say a word, before she yanks the belt off of her pants, in one swift motion, and then— undoes the button, and the zipper as well. ellie throws the belt on the floor, violently so, and it makes your whole body jump with a squeal.

"awh... did i scare you?" she coos, and caresses her hand slowly, from the top of your forehead, running it all along the pillowy skin of your cheeks, to the bottom of your chin. with her index and her pointer, she grabs your chin, and lower's your head over so your eyes fixate on her jean-covered cunt. poor you, you wait for her to take them off. except, she doesn't. with her hand on the back of your head, she pushes you forward, making the tip of your nose graze her heat, and you swear to god himself— you can smell her already, you know that she's soaking, getting off on you sucking her thumb like that, getting off on your absolute submission to her. she has to restrain herself from using you fully, from bumping your head forward and forcing you to get her to cum through her pants, she knows she can— but instead, when she looks right into your eyes, those poor, glassy eyes, she gets down on her knees to face you. her expression softens, and she rubs her thumb on your cheek. you almost purr, tilting your head so you fit perfectly in it.

"you're so good to me..." she whispers, and chuckles softly when she sees the curl of your lip. "so good..." she repeats, and you hum, accepting her praise. she plants a soft, loving kiss on your forehead. "pretty little housewife... always takin' care of me, huh?" you nod, accepting again, although now, it feels as if she's purely speaking to herself. "always" you whisper back, nodding your head softly. "you wanna make me feel good?... hm?" she murmurs, trailing small circles on your cheek, moving her finger downwards lightly, so that it grazes over your sensitive nipple, and again— she toys with the bud, awestruck at how sensitive you get, chuckling when the sweet little squeal escapes your lips again.

"yes..." you reply softly, and it's breathy, the eagerness oh so apparent in your voice.

"f'course you do..."

she gets up from her knees, bit by bit, and leans her back on the fridge. you look up at her, and place your thumbs inside of her jeans. she nod's softly, signaling you that it's time now. take them off.

when you do, you whine.

her grey boxers, perfectly tight on her thighs, have a delicious, wet patch right where the fabric meets her hole. "mhh'ellie..." you whine, and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, inhaling deeply. "you're so wet..." you murmur against her skin, taking in what you did. you're copying her, imitating, she knows that. "all for me...?" you whisper, and then she tsk's. "dont play with me" she breathlessly huffs— but why? it's so much fun, after all.

"are you shy, daddy?" you question, and she feels her cheeks burning a crimson red. "shut up" she murmurs, and it's a half chuckle— half threat.

"you're so cute" you tease, a soft, adorable smile when you speak. "hey... hey—" she takes hold of your chin again.

"quit being a fucking brat, ju— oh... my.... god" in the midst of her sentence, your tongue met her clothed clit. eagerly, you teased it up and down with the tip of your pink muscle, and you felt ellie shaking.

her whole body tenses, as soon as you begin flickering it, taking her button between your teeth, not once daring to break your eye contact. your eyes scream submission, but your movements— scream mine. you flatten your tongue against her slit and her knees almost give in. with a fist on your scalp, her body— involuntarily, slips down slightly off of the fridge, her ass meets the metal with a thud, she's almost squatting.

her mind is clouded with chants of "fucking needed this"

you kiss it, nice and wet. "you like it, daddy?" bold, full on cocky and bratty is what you are. you know you made her desperate so you have the power to dare— and tease her on and on. she doesn't reply, a choked out whine coming from her throat. she mumbles incoherently, something that sounds like "you wait for your fucking turn and then you'll see" before she pulls down her boxers, grabs you by the back of your neck and pushes you in.

"fuuuuu" she chokes out, barely able to continue her words, when your lips wrap around her swollen clit, messily sucking it in. "just like... fuck— just like that..." now, she's purely controlling your motions, grinding on you. you flatten out your tongue with a whimper and incoherently breathe out; "da— ddy". with your voice choked up, mouth swollen and used, she looks down at you, her eyes threatening to close, and yet, she smiles. darkly so, and teasingly. "such a—" she grunts, a "psh" noise escaping her lips, "good— fucking girl..."

you can't help but let your hand wander down your skirt, squeezing and pinching and caressing your thighs like she'd do, teasing yourself all over your panties, rubbing your leaking hole as she fucks herself on top of you. when she notices your little hand circling your clit, she wants to coo, wants to warn you— but she doesn't. she chuckles, "can't fucking help... fuck—" you barely let her finish her sentence again, before you take her clit between your teeth and gnaw at it gently. "s'fucking much— can't even fucking help yourself— can you?" every word that leaves her mouth feels as if it's being held hostage, trying to escape, sounding muffled and choked up.

of course you need to cum when your mouth is on her cunt, of course you need to cum when she's using you like this, it's so obvious, it's so... you, she attempts to be feigned by it, but instead, she laughs. "go on... make yourself cum— g-go on" she stutters, and when she does, you suck harder on the bud than you've ever sucked in your life, with a sweet, high pitched moan. you almost have to physically push your fingers out of your cunt, whining as soon as the feeling of being empty washes over you, and then— you push them deep inside ellie’s tight, warm hole.

she barely has time to response, jolting at the intrusion, muttering a string of curse words under her breath, pulling her head back. "dirty— fuckin'..."

your juices mix with her's, and the sounds that your mouth leaves are obscene, wet and sticky, moaning like you've never tasted anything better in your life— which you probably hadn't. "you gonna cum, daddy?" you probe, breathlessly so, and it's humorous, that brave attitude that washes over you when she's a mess splattered against the fridge, bucking her hips and— cumming. all over your mouth.

you lick it up, suck all of the juices in, from her tight hole and then all over her slit, swallowing every last bit.

before you manage to get up, she lifts you up.

you both stand there for a while, forehead to forehead, not talking, barely breathing on each other.

you blink twice, and then once more.

"powerless?" you quip, silently.

she's breathless, and before she replies, she attacks your neck with sweet, soft kisses.

"you fucking.... you fucking—", she picks you up and you squeal. she pushes you against the counter and she... giggles?

"how did i fucking..." she pecks your lips, and pecks it again, and again, and again— you can't stop laughing, she's tickling you all over and the tears start forming in the corners of your eyes.

"how did get so fucking lucky?" she pecks again, on your cheek now. "huh?" she repeats, and fuck— that smile.

"how did i get so fucking... lucky"

how did she, truly?

"go upstairs and grab it" she orders, but waits for your response. "what?" you speak, in between sweet as honey giggles.

"up... stairs"

"what's upstairs?"

she tilts her head, and smirks.

"what's upst—... oh"

oh.

[wpdarlingpan]

will you do a platonic yandere older brother coriolanis (I think that’s how u spell it lol) snow x a sibling! reader ? and he kidnapped them? also it can be fem or gn. have a good day/night!!

I love this idea! And thank you so much I also hope you have a good day/night.

I’m open to doing a part 2 since this is somewhat short if enough people like this storyline. I’m curious on where it could go.

His Little Snowflake ❄️

Platonic Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Younger Sister

Female Pronouns

Word count: 1.1 K

Warnings: Obsessive behavior, mentions of murder

Coriolanus wasn’t an only child, albeit he was the oldest. He had a little sister named Y/N. She wasn’t as known as he was, after all he was the heir to the snow name and ‘fortune’ so it wasn’t up to her to preserve the name.

When Corio found out he was going to have a little sibling, he was indigent. He knew he would keep all of the rights being the oldest but the idea of having to share with a sibling was torture in his mind.

That was until he saw them.

His mother died in childbirth after having the baby. When his father came home with her, he was prepared to loath the baby that took away his mother, even if she wasn’t the best one.

But one look into the baby’s eyes something shifted.

Corio was the one to look after his sister when his father passed away.

Tigres would always offer to help while Grand’mam claimed she was too old to care for her.

He didn’t care, this was His sibling. His responsibility. His little snowflake.

When the 10th annual hunger games began and he was forced to mentor, it took up some time. With having to write the proposal for the Doctor and being a mentor to Lucy Gray he barely had time for his little sister. He blamed everyone else for the situation. If a teacher kept him after class? That teacher would have something unfortunate happen to them.

He could just give up but he was obsessed with his little sister getting the life she deserved so he had to win the money by any means possible.

Everyday when he got home from all of his duties, he’d go to her room.

“Corio!” She squealed happily running into his open arms. She would jump as high as she could to try and wrap her arms around his neck but it would often end up with him having to bend over as she wrapped around him like a koala.

“Hello Snowflake, I miss you today.” Thats what he’d always say. That fact that he missed her was true but he would also say it to prompt her to say it back. After all didn’t she miss him just as much?

“I missed you too!” Then she’d ramble about her day to him. Not noticing as his scowl as she talked about her friends since the second she’d look up at him he’d change it to a soft smile.

All you needed was each other and he firmly believed that. Maybe Tigres on the occasion when absolutely necessary but she was a cousin. You are his little sister.

“You need to distance yourself from them, it sounds like they are bad influences”

“That doesn’t sound very nice of them, I think you should stop talking to them.”

“A boy? You’re too young. They’ll old hurt you. Do you want to be hurt? Don’t you trust me?”

Those are just a few things he’d say to try and turn the favor back to him through gaslighting and guilt tripping. Of course it always worked. Y/N loved her older brother, she couldn’t not trust him.

With all of the cheating Coriolanus did to make Lucy Gray win it wasn’t that much of a surprise he was caught, at least to everyone else but him. He was too focused on winning that the idea of getting caught was child’s play.

Now they wanted to take him away from you. He simply couldn’t allow that to happen. The idea of not seeing you every minute was distressing to him but for 10 years as he is sent away to the districts? He would kill everyone in his path back to the capital.

So in order to prevent that he did what he does best, manipulate.

First of all he had to get Y/N.

~*~

Bursting into her room he saw her where she usually was, sitting at her desk coloring.

“Y/N!” He spoke urgently as he ran around to pack some clothes “Get ready. We need to leave.”

Y/N saw the panicked look on his face he tried to hide, making her panic about what was happening. Or course she wasn’t told about his treachery, he would murder whoever painted him in anything other than a perfect light to his little sister.

“What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later, we are going away for awhile.”

“What about Tigres? Grand’mam?”

“They are staying here.”

She was in shock, leaving her family? Her young mine couldn’t process the fact even if she would be with her older brother. It was natural to be scared of change.

And this would change everything.

“I can’t leave them!” Coriolanus was delusional and would hope they would accept to leaving but he planned for the rare possibility of them not.

“Please don’t make me do this the hard way. You want to be with your older brother right? It’s the two of us against the world remember?” She nodded with tears in her eyes as she hugged her little tiger stuffed animal “I have to leave, and I’m not leaving without you. I love you.”

“But-but” Y/N began to stutter out but Corio knew he was losing a lot of time. So he grabbed some sleeping powder he found in Dr. Volumnia’s office and lightly blew it into her face as he caught her as she began to sway on her feet.

“What’s happening-“

“You’ll be okay I swear, we will be okay. We just need to go away for awhile.”

~*~

He somehow convinced everyone he came across that he was allowed to bring her with him. Sure it took some convincing for some but the way he could talk circles around people make them give in pretty quickly.

Then he paid the transfer worker money to send him to district 12.

In no way did he trust Lucy Gray with his little sister, but he didn’t want you to see him killing people nor did he want her left alone for any of those district people to get ahold of and poison her little mind. But he didn’t have a choice so he had to go to the person who is his only option. After all her oh so kind heart wouldn’t allow her to get hurt. That is if Lucy Gray was still alive.

When Y/N woke up she was in the arms of her brother as he brought her into his individual room in the barracks due to his higher standing.

“Where are we?”

“Welcome to district 12 my little snowflake. Nothing can get between us now.”

And he meant it. Even if it meant getting a few people killed along the way and sending his best friend to the hanging tree after he suggested she return back to the capital.

[allywthsr]

DECORATING | (l.norris)

summary: you and Lando decorate your house for Christmas

wordcount: 1.6k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: none!

notes: tell me your thoughts!!!🥹

advent calendar

”Lando, have you seen the third box of decorations?“

”Yes! It’s in the basement, next to the fourth and fifth box.“

You chuckled. Christmas was your favorite holiday and over the years, you collected a fair amount of ornaments.

”Can you get it?“

You were standing in the living room, surrounded by decoration and two boxes when Lando threw himself on the couch, where fir garland was placed. With an eye roll, he rolled on his belly and sighed, ” Can this woman stop obsessing with Christmas?“

”I heard that!“

He sat up and looked at you.

”Do you need to go all out this year?“

”Yes, Lando! It’s the first time in the new house and I can’t wait to see this place being in the Christmas spirit.“

You both recently moved into a house that you built in England, near his parents. It was a modern but cozy home, with high ceilings and beautiful light wood-colored details. It was your absolute dream house, and you were so thankful for Lando that you were able to live this dream.

But it was December and you needed the Christmas spirit with you. You had bought a lot of stuff for the new house when you went shopping alone, no one was able to stop you and before you knew it, the whole car was filled with Christmas decorations and your bank account was screaming for help, but it was worth it.

”I‘ll only get it when you bake me cookies today.“

With an arched eyebrow, you looked at him.

”What does Jon say about you wanting cookies?“

”Y/N! It’s Christmas, I don’t care what he says, I’ll run an extra mile tomorrow.“

”Fine, you‘ll get your cookies if you bring me the stuff and help me set up the trees?“

”Deal!“

He went and gave you a kiss, and slapped your ass, before he made his way down to the basement, to get the stuff. But yes, multiple trees. You bought three fake trees for the living room to put next to the TV, and you wanted to go all out, now that you had the space. Shortly before Christmas, you wanted to get a real tree and place it in the entrance, to create the atmosphere and get the smell of fresh fir.

While you waited for Lando to return you got a little reindeer out of the box in front of you and looked around the room for a place for it to go. The problem with your shopping is, that you buy and buy, without thinking about a placement for the things, so you struggle every year. The reindeer found a place next to the couch for now and next, you pulled out the Christmas wreath, which you placed over the fireplace.

Lando came back with two boxes stacked on top of each other and with a grunt he placed them on the ground.

”What did you buy? These things are heavy.“

”I bought way too much, I need your opinion on where to put things.“

”Let me get the rest and I‘ll help.“

”You’re amazing.“

”Tell me something I don’t know.“

And with that, he turned around to march down again.

Your normal blanket was swapped for a Christmas blanket on the couch, and in one of the new boxes you found all of your pillows so you replaced them, while you were at it. Now it looked so much cozier.

A few loose baubles were placed randomly on the coffee table, with some Santa and snowman figures. White and black cones, that looked like Christmas trees, were placed in front of the window since they were huge, and a garland made out of snowflakes was placed above them. The big Santa was placed on the shelf behind the couch, and a few other little decorations were placed next to him.

Lando came back with the last box and one of the Christmas trees, he put all the pieces on the ground and turned around to get the other ones.

He was a darling for helping you out that much.

You began with making more space for the trees and quickly vacuumed the space, so it would be clean. You brought the vacuum cleaner with you already, you knew how messy things would get with the fake snow and fake fir lying around everywhere.

The bottom piece was placed close to the fireplace, and you fluffed it out, making it look like a real tree with every layer you added. Eventually, you couldn’t reach the top layer and Lando came back to help you.

”You’re crazy for putting three trees up.“

”Maybe, but come on, we have the space, why not use it?“ He sighed, ”Oh, can you help me? I can’t reach the top.“

He took the piece and placed it on top of the rest, fluffing it out.

”It looks good.“

”Thank you, Lan.“

With a kiss to the side of your head, you continued to put up the other two trees, the fake snow on them, making them look like they were freshly chopped from the forest. Only that there was no snow in England.

”By the way, what are we doing for the outside? I want it to be full of lights and figures in our front yard.“

”We can go to the city later and look for some things if you want. We have nothing for the outside yet.“

You went and hugged Lando tight.

”That would be amazing Lan.“

You kissed his soft lips gently.

”Thank you for supporting my crazy Christmas addiction.“

”I‘ll support you no matter what, you know that baby.“

You snuggled your head in his chest and breathed in his scent. You loved his smell, it smelled like home.

”But let’s continue, angel.“

You nodded and kissed his chest one last time and let go, turning around to look at the mess of boxes and decorations.

”I want to put up the water church.“

The water church. It’s a church where some kind of liquid was inside and when you turned it on, glitter was flying through it, technically like a snow globe, but without the shaking. Ever since you bought it, Lando had been amazed by it and said it was his favorite piece, he loved putting it up and looking at it.

So you gave him the church and he put it next to his podium helmets that found a place on a shelf in the living room.

The dancing Santa was placed on a shelf in the hallway, next to the xxl reindeer and the snowflake that had fairy lights in it. These snowflakes were scattered around the whole house, in your bedroom, the bathrooms, the kitchen, the hallway…

You both placed the last few items wherever you and Lando found some space, you put the fir garland around the railing of the stairs and placed baubles all around. The stockings with your names and the names from both of your families were hung over the fireplace. Christmas Eve was spent at yours, so you didn’t want to leave anyone out. The only thing that was now missing was a mistletoe, somewhere random you always put up a mistletoe and it wouldn’t change in your new home.

”Where do you wanna put the mistletoe?“

”Maybe by the entrance?“

Lando nodded and got a ladder from the basement so he could put it on. Because you were lazy and didn’t want to drill a hole in the ceiling you took some tape to fix it on there. It‘s cheesy to put up a mistletoe, but it was a cute little tradition to put it up and it gave you a moment to kiss Lando whenever you wanted. Sometimes you would stand under it and call for Lando, so you both stood under it and had to kiss. Just as now, when Lando stepped down from the ladder he said: ”It‘s time for a smooch“, and pursed his lips, of course you couldn’t deny the offer and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Lastly Lando and you went shopping for some outside decoration. Lots and lots of fairy lights, a glowing Santa, a reindeer, a snowman, and a sleigh wandered into the cart, just like some candy canes and nutcrackers. Lastly, you bought some fir, for the columns in front of your house, as well as some lanterns and red bows.

When you arrived and everything was put up by Lando and you, after you both had two mental breakdowns and Lando had a rage attack at the fairy lights, it looked just like how you wanted it and you couldn’t be happier. The columns were covered with fir garlands, the red bows were placed on the wall, and the glowing figures stood in the garden, creating a sweet scenery. The candy canes were placed next to the path that led to your entrance door, where two nutcrackers were standing, and the lanterns were placed on the steps of the staircase in front of your entrance.

”Thank you Lando!“, you jumped into his arms, ”I don’t think that I would have the dream house with my dream decoration if it wasn’t for you.“

”Only what you deserve, baby.“

He hugged you tight and kissed your nose softly.

”But if you want, you can thank me in different ways than just a hug.“

[rogueddie]

Steve realizes that he's been spending too much time with the kids families when he gets home, realizing that he'd bought supplies for knitting. It's something that Claudia and, recently, Joyce have been getting into. They would rope Steve into joining them whenever he time there.

But it's nice. He likes knitting. He likes the repetitively and how easy it is to simply... stop. Stop worrying, stop pacing, stop thinking. Stop being so afraid.

It's hard to be scared of beasts in the walls when he looks down and finds a badly knitted sock in his lap. It looks too silly.

The longer he spends on it though, the better he gets. It's not long until he's knitting things nice enough that he feels confident enough to wear them outside the house. And no one bats an eye.

Robin even steals some of his scarves- until she learns that he knit them and then she starts making demands. Which he's happy to fulfil. Seeing her light up when he hands her the scarf and gloves, in the exactly color and pattern she'd asked for, is more than worth it.

That Christmas, his new knitting skills save the day. He had to set himself a very strict budget for the presents. He's trying to save as much as he can, with Robin and Eddie, so they can move into a little house they have their eyes on.

He blows the entire budget on the kids.

So, with the help of Robin, he tries to think of the best things to knit for the adults.

Robin asks him to make them matching scarves and gloves. She knows that Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle will want matching things too, which solves what to get them. As well as Joyce and Hopper- though, Steve isn't sure how those will go down.

The other parents are easy. He's spoken to them, been in their homes enough, to know the patterns and colors they favor.

By the time he finishes knitting everyone their things... he's still not sure what to knit for Eddie. All he has is the black yarn he got and some of the maroon and dark green left over from the other projects.

"He'll be happy you got him anything at all," Robin teases. "You know that. You just want it to be perfect because-"

"He's my friend! Ok? I just want to get him something nice for Christmas."

"And that's all there is to it?"

"Yes!"

"Mhm," Robin smirks, slowly walking backwards towards the door, raising an eyebrow at him. "I totally believe you."

Even though Robin hadn't been any help with thinking of any good ideas, he's sure that he's only thinking of worse ones without her. It doesn't help that, the longer he sits and tries to think, the more ideas they came up with together he forgets.

In the end, he settles for a gothic version of a Christmas sweater. He tries to make it as detailed as he can- knitting in snowflakes and zig zags, the hellfire devil head instead of a reindeer and little Christmas trees along the bottom hem.

He shoves it into the little Christmas bag he got for it, taping the top shut before he can doubt himself. He tucks it away, pointedly avoiding so much as glancing at it.

It's a relief when, a few days later, Christmas comes around.

Most of them bounce between the Wheelers and the Byers homes. The kids all spend most of the day at the Wheelers, gathering all their presents with them. Dustin helps Steve bring the presents from him, Robin and Claudia inside.

He stops at the Byers, where most of the adults are gathered. Joyce and Nancy both try to convince him to change his mind, to stay for dinner, as he drops their presents off. But, as he reminds them, he promised Robin he'd spend Christmas dinner with her.

She's sat on the trailer steps with Eddie when Steve pulls up.

"You're late!" Eddie yells as Steve opens the trunk, grabbing the last three presents. "Have you no consideration for the peasants?!"

"Shut up," Steve says, rolling his eyes. He gently kicks him. "Move."

Eddie throws himself off the steps, onto the floor. "Ah! Rob, he's bullying me!"

"Good." Robin stands up, opening the door and waving Steve inside. She raises an eyebrow at Eddie. "Get up, I'm hungry."

"Fine!" Eddie says, scrambling to his feet. "You're all so mean to me."

Wayne clears his throat. He's stood by the kitchen, leaning with his arms crossed, watching them with an amused grin. "You kids ready to eat now or do you want to do presents first?"

"Food," they all say in sync.

The dinner is amazing, something Steve and Robin both keep telling Wayne. Whenever the conversation pauses, they have a little kick-fight on who gets to speak up that time.

Wayne jokingly asks Eddie why he's never so complimentary about his cooking, which earns him an eye roll.

"You don't need the ego boost, old man."

Wayne gets him in a loose headlock when he stands up, ruffling his hair, before quickly grabbing the plates that Steve tries to collect.

"No, no, no. You kids get started opening your presents, I've got these."

Robin drags him along, into the living room, by the collar of his polo when he tries to offer help. Eddie helps, grabbing his forearm. Steve grumbles the whole time, folding his arms when they push him down, onto the sofa.

"Ladies first," Eddie throws a present at Robin, nearly hitting her in the face. He grins widely when she flips him off.

He insists that, once Robin opens all of her presents, Steve has to open his. Then Wayne. And, once they've all opened theirs, Eddie claps his hands together at the remaining presents.

"Perfect. All for me." He grins, grabbing Steves first. He almost rips the bag with how hard he pulls at the tape.

"We have scissors," Robin waves them at him.

He bats them away, digging the sweater out of the bag. "Oooh, gothic Christmas, very-" he stops when he turns it over, staring at the front for a moment. "Is... is this, like, custom made?"

"Yeah, sort of," Steve says, shrugging. He offers a smile when Eddie looks up at him, looking almost... awed.

"He made it himself," Robin says. "He's gotten into knitting."

"You knit this? Yourself? Stevie, what the hell! This is amazing!" He quickly shrugs off his jacket so he can put the sweater on. "I'm never taking this off. Fuck, I could kiss you."

"Save it for the bedroom," Wayne quickly says, holding a hand up. "Some of us here don't want to see all that PDA."

Robin snickers. "Yeah, have some decency for the rest of us."

"Ha ha," Eddie deadpans. "You're both hilarious."

"Seriously though, son," Wayne puts a hand on his shoulder. "You know I'll support and love you no matter what, but I'd hate to see you and a girl getting like that just as much."

"What?" Eddie frowns, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Wayne glances between him and Steve. "You and your boy."

"Holy shit," Robin whispers. "I knew it wasn't just me."

"I'm, uh..." Steve eventually speaks up, once it's clear that Eddie isn't going to say anything, simply continuing to gape at Wayne. "I'm not his boy."

"What?" Wayne turns to Eddie with narrowed eyes. "You ain't asked him out yet? How many dates have you been on and you still ain't-"

"We're not dating," Eddie hisses. "I've told you this, like, seventy times!"

"This is amazing," Robin whispers, eyes darting between the two as they continue arguing back and forth. "Stevie, you owe me money."

Steve groans, slouching as low as he can, covering his red face with both hands.

[aclowntiny]

Ink Trails- Hongjoong x GN!Reader (Soulmate AU)

Just about everyone has a soulmate, a person they're destined to be with, to go through life with in some capacity. The mark of this? Anything you write on your skin shows up on theirs.

Word Count: 2.4k | Soulmate AU, Banter, Faint Humor | Warnings: a bit of language

You weren’t a big fan of drawing on yourself. As a child, you were something of a neat freak, washing all the dirt you could off your hands and never wanting to add ammo to the enemy in yours and the sink’s war. Of course, your favorite sheet of temporary tattoos didn’t count as dirt, not when they granted you several days of carrying your favorite character, a little purple penguin, with you. In fact, you practically ignored the rest of the sheet besides a few snowflakes surrounding him, all of which everyone told you were now decorating some other kid, too.

Well, good, you thought, your penguin was the best and they probably loved it, too. Otherwise they couldn’t marry you or whatever soulmates did. Usually it was get married. Maybe you would get married when you grew up. Your grandparents liked being married.

As you grew a bit older, you wrote in school. Sometimes your pen or pencil slipped, skimming your hand with an accidental line. Sometimes your soulmate was clumsy, too, and you watched a pencil trail appear when you didn’t even have one in hand. The weirdest was when you watched a whole shaky ㅎ appear, the circle looking a bit square, then suddenly erasing and being reborn round again.

And then just like that, it was all gone.

It hadn’t really been your habit to write things on yourself like others you knew- it just didn’t come naturally to you when you had paper and, a bit later in life, your phone. Beside that, given the marks of soulmates, any notes you wrote would appear on someone else’s arm, hand, anywhere they could get scolded for if they had strict family or teachers or a barrier to looking presentable at an academic event. It just didn’t seem fair. That was the same reason why, even years after school and becoming an adult, you chose not to get any tattoos. What if your soulmate hated it? Then they get it removed and you lose yours and the cycle goes on like some sort of stupid cartoon sequence of ink and lasers.

Ok, that part maybe not so much, but you knew how personal and controversial tattoos could be, so kinda weird to put one on someone else without their consent. Sorry about the penguin, you supposed all those years later, I was four.

Instead, perhaps preferably, you doodled a lot on paper, keeping at it even when that rude boy Matthew from seventh grade told you your cat looked so bad, it made him think it was a dragon holding a cookie. Such insults would not be taken from the guy who used ‘I don’t like the color red’ as an icebreaker ‘fun fact’…while wearing a red shirt.

Even if you were no artist, improvement naturally came with age and frequency, and you favored keeping your drawings cute anyway. Yet another reason to put them down on paper- pen ink faded from skin, but on paper, it was like a tattoo. Permanent with all your other notebooks of doodles that would have more than covered your body.

Your body, which was semi-frequently decorated anyway, not of your own accord. Your soulmate, likely around your age, had no qualms about use of the forearms as a notepad, so it wasn’t the oddest occurrence by far to wake up with things like ‘7:00 독주회’ or a more frantic ‘ENGLISH TEST 9:00’ scrawled there. Or even once a very unceremoniously written, shaky, clearly hastily added ‘BUMJOONG WAS HERE’ on the back of your hand. That was a fun one to try to explain. It made you wonder sometimes if your soulmate was a less considerate person than you or if you’d simply proven well in your restraint.

You weren’t expecting any answers, or perhaps more questions, to come in the form they all did.

The morning was like any other: it was your day off, time you’d reserved so as to endeavor some shopping. Making yourself a nice breakfast and choosing one of your favorite outfits, you hopped in the shower. Deciding what the heck, it was your day off, you even busted out the new sugar scrub you’d bought as peals of warm, crashing water echoed around you, lathering some exfoliant luxury upon the skin you’d always cared for.

Never once had you expected it to entertain anyone’s notice.

But there it was as you strolled along the concrete of the shopping center’s sidewalk, completely unaware of what was exposed until you ran into a friend, waving and exchanging the platitudes of two meeting after some time.

“Wow, (y/n), what a surprise, I didn’t know you got a tattoo! I thought you didn’t want any!” Your old friend Brian exclaimed with a wide smile, tilting his head. “May I see the whole thing?”

His words rose slowly to your head as you blinked, gears turning. For you had not, in fact, gotten anything of the sort done. Instinctively you held out your hand, assuming your soulmate had scrawled another vague practice reminder on the back of their hand or wrist, but your skin was blank, just a smooth expanse the same tone it always was.

“No, not your hand, silly! There!” Your eyes followed as he pointed down towards the ground, toward…your leg?

Swiveling at the hips, you bent and tugged on any necessary clothing to reveal, sure enough, writing near your ankle. Your chest sunk.

“I didn’t get a tattoo,” you said quietly.

“What?”

“I didn’t get a tattoo,” you repeated, voice a deadpan.

He pointed, finger rising slowly, almost shakily. “Then what’s-”

“I don’t know. I- I guess my soulmate did it.”

“Your soulmate got a tattoo without asking you?”

“We haven’t met,” you burst out as you raised the fabric around your leg higher, “I guess they don’t care what I think! What’s this even say, anyway?”

Frustration pricked at you at the sheer height of the piece- it wasn’t exactly dainty. Quite a ballsy move, all things considered. Sheesh. Wait, those were wings, huh?

“It says ‘faith’,” Brian supplied, “and I think it’s nice. Could definitely be worse. Could have been a partner’s name or, like, naked Spongebob or something.”

You cocked a brow. “Naked Spongebob?”

“Well, would you want that on your leg?” Brian shot back, crossing his black t-shirted arms.

“No,” you sighed, staring at your new, involuntary body art, “I suppose I would not. Well, you’re right- this is pretty nice. I can live with this. Hopefully it’s not the first one of many, though. My soulmate better leave me some control of my own skin.”

“Yeah, and if they don’t, you’d better give them a piece of your mind.”

A chuckle escaped you. “Yeah, right. I don’t even know where they are.”

“Have you never tried to find out?” Brian’s eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowing at you like he was asking the dumbest question he’d ever uttered.

And maybe he was. Your chest contracted in realization that you had, in fact, never once considered taking any initiative into finding whoever it was had those recitals or English tests or who you really hoped had the spine to smack Bumjoong one for defacement of property. The person who, by the universe’s decree, was meant to be some miraculous piece of your life forever and you’d just…assumed they’d walk in whenever it was time. All your concern had gone to not bothering their appearance despite their clear lack of regard on the subject.

“Uh, (y/n)?” A hand waved in front of your face. Brian’s. “You’ve gone all spacey on me, what’s wrong?”

“Brian, I might be stupid.”

“Might?”

You descended back to earth, or at least close enough to its gravity, to find the wherewithal to smack his shoulder beneath the momentous echoing of reality throughout your brain.

“Also, I take it then the tattoo on your arm wasn’t your idea either?”

“The…what?”

Shopping day over.

~

Hongjoong couldn’t recognize his own handwriting. Or could he? Had he written that address on the back of his hand? He had to have. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. As if his schedule wasn’t busy enough, now here was some other errand he’d forgotten.

Pulling out his phone and typing it into maps, he saw that at least it wasn’t too far away. A reasonable drive, especially for a…tuesday? Oddly specific, but appointments were appointments, he reflected as he swiveled in his leather office chair.

After all, if it wasn’t important, he wouldn’t have written it down so visibly on himself like that. That was a habit he’d largely dropped in adulthood, image of greater concern and regard for mess a bit higher, too. Plus, the only other good it would have served seemed not his lot.

At least a fair number of songs had come from it. Ah, music- the eternal, universal processor. What would he do without it? Music was a way of filling every void-no, scratch that, coming to terms with the existence of voids within oneself- the thing that made him feel complete, or certainly one of them. Jokes had it that music was Hongjoong's soulmate, and while the songwriter didn't appreciate fun being poked at his expense, it was hard to deny the itching grains of truth beneath his skin at the words.

Music-related or not, this short trip was his lot, so why not make the best of it? After all, whoever had organized it picked a pretty nice café as the rendezvous point. Worst case, Hongjoong would at least get a coffee out of it.

~

You were starting to wonder if nobody would approach you, more singles and even couples getting in line and heading straight for a table or the door than you could count on one hand. In fact, in came someone else right in time with your thoughts, a super hot guy in fact, though he looked confused as hell. His eyes darted back and forth between the chalkboard menu and the industrial-style metal tables as he stood a little bit out of line.

Shit didn’t hit the fan until he pulled his phone out to check it, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. His loose black t-shirt sleeve fell back, revealing a tattoo suspiciously similar to the second one that Brian pointed out on your own body. And that font was very, very unique. And big. And it was on you now.

Moving completely of its own volition, your body peeled from its metal seat and strode right up to him. No thoughts swirled to the surface of your mind even as you reached his side, prompting him to turn on his heels.

The only words your mind could barely form fell out of your lips. "You're the one who gave me these tattoos."

Jumping back, the man gaze at you with saucer-wide eyes, saying nothing as you pulled your own sleeve back to reveal the second and luckily last set of writing Brian had found on your body, this time reading 'No 1 like me', and again showed your ankle.

"I designed that one myself, how could you possibly-" His wide-eyed gape fell slowly into a smile. "I have a soulmate?"

"Yes, of course you do!" You replied, incredulous. "Did you think you didn't?"

"You never wrote anything!" He shot back.

"I was trying not to mess you up!"

"I just..." The man's handsome features fell, first into seeming hurt then just into a pensive look. "For so many years I taught myself to make my own way. Sometimes I was fine with it, sometimes I wasn't."

"No wonder you thought there was no one like you," you said before panicking, thinking better of it, "not that the tattoo isn't cool! And still true. I really like the font, actually? You said you designed at least one of these?"

"Yeah, I knew what I wanted, so I drew up the faith one and..." He tilted his head, sliding his phone from his hand back into his pocket. "wait, do you want to get a table?"

"Only if you buy me a drink," you teased, nodding toward your arm as you got back in line, "you owe me for these."

"I think you owe me for years of radio silence," the man shot back with a smirk, crossing his arms.

Heat crept into your face at the way he fixed the intense look at you, but you refused to back down. "The way you described it sounded like I taught you a valuable lesson."

"Pain can teach lessons."

Ok, you were about spent at that. "Are we really fighting over something as stupid as one free coffee?"

"I mean, fighting wasn't the word I would have used there, but you're right. I've got this one."

"Oh, you two are so cute!" The barista waved her hand as you placed your orders. "I love couples who bicker like old married grandparents! So, what are your names?"

You and your soulmate glanced at each other, your eyes sliding back into those deep, dark, expressive ones you wouldn't mind getting used to. He searched yours, too, and a small smile played on his lips that had you wondering what he was thinking... until you realized it, too.

Maybe you had wildly opposite views over the years on using your body as a notebook, but you two soulmates had the exact same sense of humor.

"We don't know," you both said at the same time.

"I'm Hongjoong," the man in black introduced himself, smiling wickedly now.

"(y/n), nice to meet you," you replied, bowing back to him.

The barista mirrored Hongjoong's initial shock at your confrontation as you both headed to your table, laughing now. Somehow that all came as easily as bickering, all your interactions up to that point having a certain flow you'd never felt before. Placebo effect? Maybe, yet the tug you felt the moment you first saw Hongjoong was yet to fade. It was like those old sayings: it felt like you two were making music.

"Ok, please don't think I'm being rude," Hongjoong's voice cut into your thoughts, "but I'm a songwriter, and I feel like I just have to write down some lyrics right now."

All you could do was just grin at that. Well, shit. Maybe now you really would have to try leaving more of an ink trail.

[tobifuyu]

Snowflakes In My Stomach When We’re Kissin’

RAN HAITANI x f!reader

cw: nsfw, mdni, smut, fwb to lovers, oral (male reciving), tiny bit of angsty themes with happy ending, sappy fic, ran being a simp as always to feed my “he’s a self-centered bitch until he finds the one” agenda.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: surprise… i’m back with a christmas present! this is the first fic in a three pieces installment, which can all be read as standalone but come from the same universe and evolve in the span of three different christmases. in case you didn’t know, in japan christmas is a holiday in which people spend time with their partners because they reserve new year’s for family (not only i’ve seen it in a whole lot of shoujo anime but i’ve asked my japanese coworkers to confirm eheh). it’s also customary to eat cake! ;)

“Though you said you just wanted to get a coffee.”

The only thing peeking from the red scarf is the tip of his nose, flushed with the same color of the fabric that’s wrapped around his neck. You imagine his lips curved in a smirk under it.

When he came to pick you up earlier this morning, you thought he made a bold choice pairing the red garment with the unusual color of his hair. Up until then, you always believed red and purple would clash.

But Ran made it work, somehow. Like most things in his life, he did it with a confidence that made you question your world and how you view it even if for just a second.

“Well, that we did,” He shakes his hand, his long fingers easily supporting the weight of the full cup. You can see the steam rise from it and wonder if he’s not drinking it because he’s scared to burn his tongue or because he’s not ready to go home yet.

The two of you are currently walking around Shiba Park, not too far from Roppongi Hills. The peak of Tokyo Tower is hidden in plain sight behind the trees, stripped naked by the season, and adorned by strings of fairy lights.

In daylight they look clear, void of color, and empty, they come alive at night. Just like we both do, thinks Ran.

Ran does like winter. He believes winter poses more opportunities to forgo going out and staying in bed. He loves to gaze out of his apartment’s window and spot rain pit patting against the glass, watching the water droplets leave streaks behind as he lets himself get lulled back to sleep.

He also likes that he can layer more clothes, the more the merrier, he says, it’s easier to style it. You would agree, because he looks particularly elegant with his long black coat, left unbuttoned to glimpse at the nice sweater under it. The sight of his tightly clad body alone ignites a fire inside of you, one that is meek but insistent, and will soon start to burn you inside out.

What Ran doesn’t like it’s the cold. The wind is not fair against his pale skin, it leaves it red and stinging, much like his heart when he wakes up after a night together and doesn’t find you there. He does not like the cold, the cold of the sheets around him when you’ve left hours before.

He would like to pretend he’s clueless as to why, the same way you’re staring at him now, but he knows the reason behind it.

“Are you gonna tell me why we’re wandering around without a destination in freezing weather?

“Can’t you just live a little?”

You scoff at his words, taking another sip out of your hot chocolate to bite back an insult. He’s already testing your patience, and you have very little of it left today of all days.

“We should go eat some cake, I’d love an excuse to grab a Mont Blanc for later at that bakery by your apartment. Y’know I like it there.”

Cake. You don’t like cake, and you don’t like what eating cake with him would mean today of all days.

“Why do you have to make everything so complicated, Ran?” You sigh, head shaking in disappointment.

When you decided to start this with Ran, it was because you believed the man to be on the same wavelength as you. Ran had seemed like someone who knew what he wanted, and you had been sure that was not you.

He had promised that would stay the case. Your heart could not afford to be cared for by somebody.

When you look at him this time, you don’t notice how the wind is whipping the skin of his high cheeks red because his scarf is now covering everything but the lidded eyes staring at you.

At this rate Ran might end up hating winter: you seem to get colder with the season. He doesn’t think he would pick sleeping in over you, so if he could, he would like for summer to last all year long.

He’d like for you to cling to him even when the temperature is so high you can barely breathe in your cramped room, sweat sticking to both your skin and his, like your very first night together.

Because where the holidays bring glee to most, to you they’re a reminder of times that are long gone. A childhood spent decorating the tree and wishing for the perfect Christmas gift, now turned into a life of solitude. Your fast-paced job and lonely apartment away from home don’t leave space for the frivolity of Christmas.

“Didn’t wanna leave you alone,” he speaks so clearly of his intentions you almost feel shame, “Did ya think I would’ve left you bask in your gloominess, today? ‘M not that bad of an ass.”

You don’t think Ran owns you anything. He shouldn’t be picking up the pieces of you that other people left scattered and putting them back together as if it were a kids’ puzzle.

Ran knows you don’t really have anyone, he thinks he’s much like you, and would be just as bitter if he didn’t have his brother.

“You left Rin by himself?”

You hear his muffled laughter, “‘course not. Haruchiyo’s there. Y’know how they are.”

Yes. In love, you suppose. And you wonder if Ran thinks that is what it is. And what is it between you two?

You can feel his body warmth as he gravitates closer to you, “‘M cold,” is his excuse when his now ungloved hand catches yours. He intertwines your fingers, brushing the back of your hand with his thumb, before hiding them away in his coat pocket.

Gotta warm your cold heart up, he thinks.

“Saving you from this freezing weather,” is what he says out loud.

But you know it’s because the movement brings you closer, he pulls you so you’re now shoulder to shoulder, and you’re not strong enough to keep your head from falling on his. As if you were fresh snow in the sun, you melt in his presence.

“Let’s go get cake,” your voice is but a soft whisper, running past him like the breeze through the dying leaves, the wind finally settling down.

And that’s how he ends up in your apartment. Sounds of wet skin slapping against one another fill the void as he buries himself deep inside of you.

The sweet pastries Ran bought long forgotten over your kitchen counter, as he’d much rather taste the honeyed nectar spilling from between your thighs.

He’s grabbing at them now, the hold on your flesh sure to leave marks behind as he folds your legs so that he can loop his arms under your knees, keeping you spread open for him.

Big body caging you under his warmth with his forehead pressed against yours, and open mouths a breath away from the other, sharing sounds of pleasure without ever meeting in the middle.

It had been a tantalizing dance when you first started sleeping together. Like most people in your situation, you had both concluded that it would be best if you refrained from kissing. Deeming it too intimate.

Ran had caved after the third time you ended up in his bed, lips too needy to be kept from yours. He had let out a soft plead before you met him in the middle.

From then on you made it your mission to never kiss him outside of your bedroom activities, too scared of the power his kisses held over you. He and his annoying self had taken it as a challenge, always on the edge of his seat waiting to see who’d kiss the other first.

“Oh fuck this,” Ran groans before giving in.

You catch sight of his eyelids fluttering shut, hiding that violet color that you love so much, and your lips lock in a kiss that takes your breath as much as the hips still snapping against yours.

The coarse patch of hair on his navel repeatedly brushes against your puffed-up clit, making your hips jump up to chase the friction. The man is shamelessly shallowing your moans and caressing your tongue with his, teeth closing around your bottom lip when you go to pull away.

“Ngh, you taste like cake.”

Ran had snuck a bite of one of the pieces the moment he stepped out of the bakery, and the sweet taste on his tongue was, in your opinion, way better than the real deal.

His hand grasps your chin with firmness, the tips of his fingers squeezing your cheeks and making your blushed lips pucker up.

“So you do like cake, mh?”

“No, I don-“ Ran squeezes harder, and your mouth parts. A glob of spit falls on your tongue, one that you shallow under his scrutinizing gaze.

The moan that he lets out at that reverberates through your chest as he bends so close your bodies are now completely pressed against one another, sharing body heat.

This is what sex with Ran is, a concoction of rough touches and fucking that turn soft and slow when you least expect it. He likes to tease and surprise you, stealing the prettiest sounds from your lips and making them his. Making you his.

“Y’don’t like cake, s’okay. I know you like me,” one of his hands teasingly pinches your right nipple, respective eye closing in a wink.

You like that he makes sex fun, cracking jokes as if his cock weren’t pumping inside of you. You like it, you like him, but you can’t have him know that.

“That’s not-“ he interrupts you once again, this time with the snapping of his hips. He starts fucking you like he means it. Calculated thrusts hitting against the sweet spot only he knows how to find.

Ran is on his knees now, hands firmly planted on your raised hips, guiding you back and forth over his length.

“Fuck! Ran, fuck that feels good- so good-“

Slurred words leave your panting mouth as your hands hold onto the pillow behind your head for dear life, back arched and chest exposed to the greedy eyes that are raking over your body. From your perked-up nipples, begging to be played with, to the way your cunt is stretching around his cock.

“Don’t have enough hands for the things I wanna do to you,” Nonetheless, he repositions his right one so that it’s splayed over your navel, thumb reaching down to rub tight circles on your slicked clit.

“Fuckin’ cunt squeezing me so good,” moans spill from your mouth at his words, his voice is strained but maintains that hint of icy superiority and poise that is characteristic of Ran.

The way your hole flutters around him is maddening, Ran can feel your walls clenching against his length so perfectly. He can feel everything.

As a matter of fact, so do you. No matter how dumb he fucks you, you can’t ever miss out on the sweet feeling of his bare skin caressing your wet cunt. The squelching sounds are filling the air around you, making your cheeks heat up and your head lull to the side, trying to avoid his eyes in shame.

Half face buried in the pillow, you beg for him, “Ran, please, please. I need to cum so bad.”

His thrusts slow down, thumb stilling over your clit, and you hear him hum, pensive.

“Maybe if you looked at me, pretty, I might think about letting you.”

Gathering your remaining strength, you open your eyes to the sight of his glorious body above yours.

The wetness of his skin shines under the light of the outside street lamp, peeking in from the window, full body tattoo so enchanting, you watch it move and bend over his rising chest.

With violet eyes fixed on yours, he stands tall, unreachable.

The purple strands that fall from his gelled-back hairstyle are the only giveaway that he’s not so perfect and pristine after all, but he still looks like a god in your devoted eyes.

“Ran,” you call his name so softly he tumbles from the skies right to you.

His body bends to lay over yours, weight supported by his arms at your sides. With a snap of his hips, he breaks the longing stare you’re both sharing, mushroom tip hitting the spot that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Oh my god, that feels so-“ “I know, baby, s’okay.” One of his hands caresses over your head, before stopping at your neck and closing around your windpipe. The pressure of his touch against your feverish skin is delicious.

Your nails are now creating indents in the flesh of his arms. You want more, you need him to break you.

Ran can’t stop thrusting, pounding, burying himself inside of you to the hilt. He’s never wanted to be this close to someone before, never needed their warmth as he does yours.

He stops you before you can reach your clit with your fingers and, wanting to be the one to take you over the edge, he uses his free hand to rub over it vehemently.

“Coming, I’m coming,” are the rushed words that fall from your lips before you hit your peak. Wanton moans are gracing Ran’s ears, making his balls strain from holding back, but he wants you to bask in the glow of your orgasm before he reaches his.

“Doin’ so well fo’ me, look at this pretty pussy. Gushing all over my cock.” He looks down as he says this, watching how good he’s splitting you open, his cock coming out of you covered with the white sheen of your arousal, then plunging back in.

Your spent body is overstimulated, twitching in his hold as if trying to run away from the pleasure.

“You’re the only one, baby.” Ran lets slip, the sight of you in your most vulnerable state makes him just as weak, “S’all yours, so take it.” And he means it, you’re the only one.

Before you, life used to be in black and white. Ran had tried everything to paint it some other color, from violence to sex, but nothing ever came close to holding you in his arms.

Color is always all around him, but Ran’s devoid of it until you touch him.

You pull him down to you at the confession, arms wrapped around his neck, chests pressed against one another, hard nipples tickling the soft skin.

The pace suddenly turns slow, and you wonder if Ran does not care about coming anymore. His focus is on you, and you’re staring back at him with just as much affection.

“Let me take care of you,” it’s what you suggest once you’ve come down from your high, fingers pressing against his shoulders to have him lay back in the sheets. Short hair sprawled over the white pillow like a halo behind his troubled head.

Both of your thighs are circling his hips, too scared to have Ran pull out, and be prevailed by that sense of emptiness and cold that comes from being away from him.

Fighting a whirlpool of emotions, you feel the need to silence your mind with his lips on yours. The clashing of your noses does nothing to stop you from kissing each other passionately.

The blame should be on Ran for making you fall for him and gifting you a brand new reason to celebrate Christmas, but you should’ve known better when he walked into your life with that snarky smirk that makes you sigh just thinking about it. You bite his lip in retaliation.

The feeling of Ran’s hands traveling over your skin and sinking with his strong grip on the flesh of your hips is what makes you separate your two halves, pussy clenching around the length that has been filling you up so perfectly. The need to make him feel just as good swells up on the inside.

“Fuck, please,” A choked whisper, falling from the pearlescent of his lips, wet with your love, blood pouring out of the bitten skin.

Purple and red do look good together, you think.

Your hands are warm, trailing up his stomach like the ink on his skin. He feels as if you’re moving too fast, scared he might blink and lose the moment, and at the same time too slow for his liking. He’s begging and he doesn’t know what he’s begging for. But you do.

Ran’s hands tighten around the bedsheets. He wants to touch everywhere you’ve been, wants to get stained in you. Like fresh paint that sticks on skin, he’s now colored in your shades.

Wet kisses are being left on the top of his shaft. Ran’s right hand finds your hair, waving his fingers between the loose strands to uncover the sight of your pretty face.

Lidded eyes are watching you glide your tongue down his hardness, caressing the bluish veins running across its sides, tasting yourself on it.

When your lips wrap around his sensitive tip you have to hold down his hips with both hands.

The peace you set is slow, taking him in your mouth inch by inch. His girth stretches your lips and he thumbs the lower one as you look up at him with tears forming at your lashline.

“Mouth feels like fucking heaven, angel.”

Ran can barely contain himself, dangling from the edge, his balls heavy with his release.

When your nose is buried in the hair at the base of his cock, you know you’ve successfully taken him whole. A huge accomplishment on your part, considering how blessed he is.

With your throat clenching around him, it doesn’t take long to feel him twitch in your mouth.

“Yeah, pretty girl, just like that. Make me cum, fuck!”

Bobbing your head at his request, you’re hasty in sucking your checks around his length, letting him come on the back of your tongue with languid moans that contain your name.

No need for him to ask, you’re one step ahead by swallowing his semen, making a show of it before leaving a wet kiss on his tip, to collect the white drop that was spilling over.

“Better than any cake.”

Booming laughter fills the space around you as you scoot closer to his tired body, laying on his naked frame and stealing all his warmth.

“I do like you.”

“I know,” Ran looks down at you, left check cutely smushed against his pecs, “Let’s spend New Year’s together.”

The faint movement of your hair brushing his skin tells him you’re agreeing, “And what about… next year?”

“Let’s spend them all together.”

You’re warm in his hold, and he figures the fairy lights might’ve come on in the park.

Ran thinks back to the rest of the untouched cake on your kitchen counter and is happy enough that the two of you have exchanged Christmas gifts in your own special way.

After all, he took away the cold, and you’ve brightened up his life.

That’s more of what you could’ve wished for.

[oceanofsinners]

“They love me, they love me not.”

Yan!Pervy cupid x gn innocent succubi/incubi reader ♥︎

[mdni, or do, i don't care enough to block y'all tbh. NSFW, first time in a while writing it so apologies ack. tw/cw: mentions of violence, blood, religious stuff kinda. lmk if i have to add smth else too! also?? sorry for disappearing i got stuck in the hospital, ouchies!! also holy fuck this is 2.k words ive never wrote that much...]

Nova wasn't...normal. Well, to be fair, it wasn't their fault he was created this way. It was Father’s fault.

 

Being born a Cupid, but being unable to feel most emotions, or even love. How ridiculous. Pathetic, even. Compared to their brothers and sisters, he was useless.

 

They grew up alone and isolated, no one wanted a Cherub whose expression was always bored. No one wanted a Cherub who never wanted to play with the others or found joy in small things. 

 

He grew up in one of the few orphanages in Paradise, some human souls for foster parents who weren't able to have kids themselves, happy to have any.

 

Angels were meant to be cheerful and optimistic, they were neither. Many thought he'd grow up to be a Guardian Angel or an Archangel. 

 

Never a Cupid. Especially a Love Cupid. Maybe a Heartbreak Cupid, even Erotic Love Cupid, but Love? They didn't even truly understand what the word meant. Or so everyone thought. 

 

Angels were meant to be non-judgemental. Meant to be “kind” and believe in everyone. Angel’s are not. Angels are just as judgemental, perhaps even more than humans. 

 

The other Cupids always watched him in disdain when they were training, he always dragged their class down, being worse at it than most of the others.

 

But then, in high school, something changed. See, Angels and Demons typically don't like each other. 

 

Angels hate Demons for falling, and Demons hate the lies Angels say. But in the end, they are one and the same. 

 

Only one’s halo is broken, the other’s is perfectly fine. No, not halo, horns. If there was one thing special about Nova, it was their “halo“, or horns. 

 

They were a beautiful baby pink color that matched the pearly white hair that reached his shoulders, with pretty gold and bright pink streaks, that made their purple eyes pop. 

 

Even though Nova couldn't feel anything, he was beautiful. Freckles were made in the forms of constellations scattered over brown skin, and white eyelashes that looked like snowflakes. 

 

They were beautiful. Ethereal. An Angel, through and through. He never imagined they'd fall willingly, even hating the thought. 

 

But, maybe for one person, he would. That person is YOU. 

 

The Demons and Angels made an agreement, there was an academy built, for both Angels and Demons of all ranks and backgrounds, a sort of truce.

 

Nova was one of the angels chosen, amongst many others. They didn't care about it, just wanting it to be done already. To get the embarrassment over. 

 

Days turned into weeks of staying in the shadows, going to boring classes, eating lunch in empty classrooms, studying all night, and repeat. 

 

It was boring, but it's not like Nova had anything he could do about it. Another day of stupid school, of stupid wars between haughty Angels and Demons who liked fighting. 

 

Except this time, Nova got caught in the crossfire. Cuts covered their skin, golden blood leaking down and ruining his beautiful clothes.

 

One of the Demons had them pushed up against a wall, claws to his throat, and they stood there blank gaze. Nova raised a brow as the Demon got pushed, and went to walk away. 

 

Then YOU came. You seemed confused at the fight, trying to make peace despite it being fruitless. You paused at the sight of him, before gasping and quickly running over. 

 

“Ah, you're bleeding! Gosh, I told these dummies to stop fighting, they just don't listen!” You frowned, trying to appear upset but you just looked like a kicked puppy with a pout. 

 

You pulled them off to the side, reaching inside a black messenger back absolutely covered in cutesy stickers and pins from different bands. 

 

Nova took the time to look at you, really look at you. It was strange. Why was his heart beating so fast? Wings fluffing up? You were beautiful. One of the prettiest Demons they’d ever seen. 

 

That's what clued him into what you were, an Incubus or Succubus. Really, there was no difference between the two except for their behavior. Incubus tended to be more assertive, and Succubus more passive. 

 

Before Nova could think about anything else, you pulled a first aid kit out, opened it up, and pulled a pack of bandaids out. 

 

You started disinfecting their wounds, before putting those cute, colored bandaids on each wound.

 

Nova looks silly like this, mostly black, Gothic ensemble, even with his pastel eyes and horns, they still looked less like an Angel and more like a Demon. 

 

And there you were, broken halo turned into a pair of horns, dressed in cutesy clothes, putting brightly colored bandaids on the mean-looking Cupid. 

 

With every fleeting touch, Nova felt embers light under his skin, his cheeks warming even further. ‘...What...What is this feeling? I don't...’

 

Before Nova even realized it, they were leaning even further into your cold, almost dead touch. You paused, before giggling and roping your arms around his shoulders. 

 

“Wow! You're super friendly, I like you, your hair too, it's super duper long! What's your name?” You asked, playing with his long hair, curling it around your fingers.

 

“Casanova. But people call me Nova, usually. What's yours?” Nova looked up at you, a lovesick hazy look in his purple eyes, heart pupils. How amusing. A Cupid falling for an Incubi/Succubi. What are the odds? 

 

“Oh! Right! It's—” Before you can finish, a teacher begins herding everyone to their classes. Nova’s pissed —‘How...Why do I feel so angry?’— but goes along with it, delighted to see you wave with a sheepish grin, fangs showing. 

 

Nova doesn't know your name. But he doesn't need to. You're his angel in their mind, the one and only made for him. 

 

Very quickly you become a prominent part of his life, their parents even allowing you to stay at their house while the program goes on, happy to see their child so happy for once. 

 

With so many emotions suddenly hitting him all at once, it's no shock they fall harder than he should, becoming obsessed fast and hard. 

Nova begins realizing things they'd never realized before. The curves of your body. Those soft eyes he wants to see sobbing from pleasure. Those lips open, gasping their name—

 

But it ends far too soon. The program is forced to close, and you're gone just as fast as you came. Nova hates how empty he feels when you're gone, wondering how he ever lived without you.

 

He feels cold inside, a part of him disappearing with you. Something they can NEVER get back. He tries to be normal, smiling when he should, crying when he should, just be normal. 

 

It's easy for a while. To pretend. No, BE normal. Far too soon, or maybe far too late, he graduates high school. Then college. 

 

Years fly by, “friends” come and go, lovers he didn't give a shit about disappear after they get bored, and more and more blood then just his is on their hands. 

 

But you weren't always gone. You'd sneak out of hell and sneak onto paradise sometimes, and hang out with them. But it wasn't enough. He wanted all of your time and attention on him. Just once, they want someone to be there as a constant. 

 

Eventually he lands a job at Soulmates Corp. A Cupid work place, and he starts working. It's actually pretty simple and interesting. Sure, they don't use bow and arrows — usually. But being able to look through humans lives, to choose who they fall for. It's interesting. 

 

And then, one night, you innocently invite him to a club in hell. They instantly agree, after all, it's YOU. His angel, their savior, his LIFE LINE. Their EVERYTHING. 

 

Funnily enough, over the years the two swapped clothing styles. Nova wore more cutesy, sweet, pastel color clothes, and you wore darker, more “sexy” clothes. 

 

Nova arrived at the club, absentmindedly toying with the pockets of his pastel blue cardigan. Tonight would be the last night of your freedom - independance, after all! 

 

Nova walks in, you on his side, some of your friends accompanying the two of you. He could care less about these bastards, and soon makes sure to seperate you from your “friends”.

 

He watches you with loving eyes the entire night, making sure you get drunk so bad you can't stand. It's easy, you're too trusting. Too innocent for this world. 

 

He'll save you, just like you saved them! Eventually they take you to their place. At first it's tame. Friendly. 

 

“N—Novaaahhhh...C’mere, I hic! wanna see yer pretty faceeee...” Your voice is whiny, the alcohol really hitting you hard. Nova coos, walking over. 

 

They yelp, quite loudly, as you drag them onto the bed, curling into his side. It's innocent. His thoughts should be too. 

 

But all they can think about is your chest pressed against their arms, how easy it would be to just slip your shirt to the side, and touch. Feel.

 

He shakes his head, even if you're both drunk, he can't take advantage of you like that. They refuse to taint you, and that pretty little head of yours. 

 

Stuck in their own thoughts, Nova doesn't even realize you straddle him until it's too late. Your eyes are hazy with lust and alcohol, and he can't help but gulp nervously. 

 

“Angel, really, you...you need to sleep.” Nova tries to reason with you, but reasoning with a horny, drunk Demon, much less an Incubi or Succubi is like arguing with a wall. 

 

You whine, lips lazily smashing against his. Nova can't help but melt into it, and they hate how hard they are from just a touch, a single kiss. 

 

This is wrong. Both of you know this. Yet neither of you can stop it. One kiss turns into two, into three. 

 

“An-Angel!” Nova gasps out as you nip at his collarbone, their neck already covered in love bites and pretty blue and purple bruises. 

 

“Mmph..Wan’ more...Need more, Nova...” You growled out, one hand playing with his chest the other curled in their hair. 

 

More marks. More bites. So many. He looked so pretty like this, a crying mess under their ‘innocent’ friend. 

 

Still, he held enough restraint to stop you, not wanting to ruin your first times together. But, due to your insistence, they do give you some pleasure~

 

Nova sits on his knees, you splayed out on their silk sheets, your slick dripping onto the bed as you whined. Hips jerking up to meet his tongue, hands curled around their halo. 

 

Nova’s tongue swirls against your sex, whining from the taste of your juices against his tongue. It was better then he imagined all those nights, hand playing with their cock, desperate for some relief. 

 

With every swipe and sucking of his mouth, you get closer and closer to that sweet relief you desperately need. With one last gasp, your eyes roll back and hips buck against Nova’s mouth. 

 

Nova laps up every bit of your sweet essence, fucking you through your orgasm. He's gentle after you finish, murmuring praises into your ears as they carry you to their bathroom. 

 

During the bath you end up falling asleep, Nova carries you to bed and the two fall asleep, intangled in each other. 

 

It's morning. Your eyes flutter open, yawning softly as you groaned. Fuck, that's a horrible headache. You glance around, pausing as you feel a weight beside you. What the...

 

Your eyes glide to the person laying beside you, and you pause, your cheeks warming. Nova. You're in Nova’s bed. 

 

Nova, the Cupid boy you met as a kid. Nova, the Cupid you fell for, hard. Nova, the Cupid who always seemed so clueless and innocent. 

 

And they truly look like an Angel right now. The sun shines against against his white hair and skin beautifully, wings folded behind them. 

 

Your face feels even warmer as embarrassment fills you as you see bite marks all over their neck. Bite’s are how Demon’s mark their claim, usually on their mates. Angel’s too. 

 

He let you bite them. And yet, you can't find yourself to be mad over it. Nova’s eyes flutter open, glancing up at you. A soft smile appears on their face, as they lean up and kiss you. 

 

The Angel traps you in his wings and you giggle, curling into them. He's yours, and your his even if you don't know yet. 

 

You took their heart a long time ago. It's time he takes yours too. ♥︎

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

Sanemi x snow breathing!reader who insecure about her hair that was similar to Mitsuri but with different colors! She also clingy and alaways hugs him :)

Soft spot

Paring: Sanemi x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Sanemi doesn't care until it comes to you

Content: Fluff, readers' skin isn't described but is mentioned to have white hair and snowflake eyes, physical affection, insecure reader, mention of bullying, kiss at the end

Word count: 1.0k words

A/n: This was so cute to write!🥹

"Your hair isn't werid. It's fine just the way it is," Sanemi said, putting his hand on your head. Your arms were wrapped around his waist and your chest resting on his musclar chest as you explained to him how you've been feeling about your appearance and other problems.

You couldn't wait for him to come by your house, so you stepped by at headquarters, and luckly, Sanemi was finished talking with the Serpent hashira. You've been standing there hugging Sanemi so tightly in the middle of headquarters you didn't think for a moment anyone could walk by and see how intimately close you two were being.

Usually, Sanemi would push you off him, sometimes even fighting you, but it was never violent. More so, Sanemi doesn't know how two react to such clingess and kind touch. So he pushes it away. However, over time, he's gotten so used to your touch, and right now, you needed him. He cares about you and doesn't push you away.

Other slayers in your ranking have recently been making your time in the demon slayer core difficult. Your appearance was consently made fun of because of your naturally white hair. It's very uncommon for someone you're younger adult age having white hair and others assume you're aging too fast when it's been your hair color from when you were born. Your eyes also had snowflakes like pupils as well.

Your snow breathing wasn't seen to be useful to other slayers when it came to group work. It was taring you apart and made you think you might not be good enough. What worried you more is that because of how often your appearance was made fun of, it made you worry if Sanemi would still be with you.

When you first joined the demon slayer core, you met sanemi and a handful of times, thanks to rengoku, and the two of you bonded over having naturally white hair at a younger age. However, no slander of a lower ranking, not even his fellow hashira, would dare say anything bad about his looks.

Sanemi, being a hashira, also made you think you were good enough. What if he dates one of the female hashira who are of his status? What if you don't find you attractive anymore? The "What ifs" plays in your head so much as you explain what's been going on to sanemi. When you were finished, you saw his face become visibly mad.

Usually, it's not a hashira's job to take on the task of discrimination and bullying in the core, but he was just about ready to fight any slayer to teach them a lesson. You opened your mouth to say something, thinking he'd say the things he'd do to the slayers who wronged you, but instead, he took a deep breaths.

Sanemi calmed himself down and then brought his hand and placed it on the back of your head. His expression was still serious, but he gently played with your hair and curled it around his finger. "You worry too much about others. You're off duty tomorrow, so let me take you home," he said. "You're cold as ice, and it's chilly out here. Let's go,"

For a moment, you felt sad, thinking Sanemi might have brushes off your concerns, but you don't pry anymore. The sun was going down with the night cold creeping it, and you ended up holding onto Sanemi's arms. His hands were in his pockets as he let's you hug his arm and walked you home. Luckily, you don't live too far, so after a bit, you were walking up to your front door.

The walk home was silent. You just assumed Sanemi was tied and just choked it up to him, needing to leave quickly to do his hashira duties. You reach to your front door and let go of Sanemi's arms to tell him goodnight. "One more thing," sanemi said, breaking the silence. "You're a strong slayer. You've been at the demon slayer core for a year. You're not going to be master level, but in time, you will, and in times, you've improved a lot. Your breathing technique will be put to very good use when it's time to fight muzan." sanemi looked at you.

"I'll have a word with the slayers bothering you. This is why the core is fucked up, to want cocky slayers for my liking" he scoffed. You look at him a bit starstruck as he praises you and actually sees your improvement. "As for you thinking I'd date one of the female hashira, I wouldn't. They aren't my type, plus mitsuri is clearly off limits, and Shinobu is gay so" he said so nonchalant you couldn't help but giggle.

Sanemi watches you giggle, and you start to see a faint blush on his cheeks. "You're not bad looking. I like my woman to be pretty but smart, and you're just what I like," Sanemi said. There's many pretty women in the demon slayer core, but hearing how Sanemi called you his woman and how he views your beauty, inside and out brought you to tears.

You needed the reassurance to be told you're doing good and how pretty you are. "I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it since you forget that," Sanemi as he steps closer to wrap his arm around your waist to pull you close, making your bodies touch and lips just inches apart.

"I have to go to work for the night now. Don't come to headquarters again. I'll come by here in the morning," he said. You become a bit flustered with how close in contact you are with him, opening your mouth to speak bit it comes out in stutters.

"Easy, easy." Sanemi flirts, seeing how flustered you are. He had a small smirk on his face and watched you nod your head. Understand what he just said. "Good girl," Sanemi said, bringing his hand to your cheek and cups it. Before you knew it, his lips connected with yours, so loving and passionate you couldn't help but kiss him back.

Sanemi pulled away after a few seconds and let you go. "See you tomorrow," he responds, red in the face, and quickly walks away from you. "See you," you reply, waving your hand as sanemi walks away.

You placed your finger over your bottom lip and sighed. He's always leaving you flustered and missing him already.

[buckrecs]

Hello! You are doing the lords work here on this blog🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 do you have any soulmate au recs? I know some people don’t like them so no problem if not and sorry if you’ve been asked before!

Soulmate AU

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

the knowing by @noctumbra

ten days later, james barnes got a call from the police.

for your love by @noctumbra

they were very young; a little shy from being fourteen at that time, but both of them knew they were it. soulmates.

The Owl and the Wolf by @waiting4inspiration

In a world where a person can their soulmate’s spirit animal speaking like a human, Bucky hears your owl’s voice one day.

Snowflakes by @all1e23

Steve drags Bucky to a Christmas festival to take his mind off the fact that he has yet to meet his soulmate.

Colors in the Dark | 2 by @buckychristwrites

The world is without color, and that’s never bothered the Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA didn’t have time for love and soulmates. At almost a century old, what are the odds that his soulmate was even still living?

Say That Again by @justsomebucky

Everyone hears a key word or phrase in their head from their soulmate, something only heard in person when the moment is right.

Teddy Bear by @softlyspector

in which when one soulmate loses something, their other half finds it.

Winter Sun by @softlyspector

When you and Bucky are kidnapped, you find out just how far you would go to keep each other safe.

Assassination to Soulmates by @bxcketbarnes

See the World the Way You Do by @vanderlustwords

You start to see colour when you meet your soulmate. Bucky thinks that soulmates are a one of a kind thing—you get one and that's it. His world used to be colourful once and then he lost that. He's resigned to see black and white for the rest of his life...until flashes of colours would appear from the corner of his eye. And it seemed to happen more and more as Bucky spends time with you.

Stay Still | Please, don’t by @buckysknifecollection

What if your soulmate was the one person you had hurt the most?

Enchanted by @natasharomanovf

The reader is in a loveless relationship when she meets her true soulmate, Bucky.

what’s in a name? by @ciarawritesmarvel

When you love someone, their name appears on your shoulder. If it’s in blue, it’s unrequited. If it’s in red, it’s requited. The name turns black when your love dies. 

SERIES

Who I Was Looking For by @soopranatural

Even after you started wearing cuffs, the words are engraved in your mind as well as your wrist. You know you’re not destined for love as soon as you learn how to read. How could you? When the words “Sorry, you’re not who I was looking for” are written in black ink on your skin.

The Only Exception by @whitestarbucky

Humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves. A lesson that taunted Bucky Barnes his whole life. Perhaps it was why he refused to believe in it. He couldn’t afford to. Then you came into his life to challenge his fears to their deepest degrees, not once, but twice. Whether he liked it or not.

A Moment Of Your Time by @stevesbestgirl

A soulmate AU where the headstrong reader realizes that she’s meant to love the brutal mob boss of New York City, James Buchanan Barnes. She doesn’t want to be a part of organized crime and she doesn’t want to rely on anyone, but how do you ignore your soulmate? 

Scars by @tokoyamisstuff

whatever you write on your skin, it appears on your Soulmate’s.

Flowers Bloom by @revengingbarnes

Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. She is born with flowers around her entire left shoulder.

Heartbeat by @after-avenging-hours

Where your heartbeat matches the beat of your soulmate’s; they speed up together, slow down together, skip at the same time, but that means they also stop together...  

The Color of Blood by @theidiotwhowritesthings

In this world, a person didn’t discover color until they locked eyes with their soulmate. As an agent of SHIELD, finding your soulmate was hardly a priority. Especially since you were currently dealing with the shocking discovery that HYDRA had been pulling the strings behind SHIELD actions this entire time. Life was all about timing, and you were about to find out that your timing was absolute shit.

My night demons by @themorningsunshine

In which one can see their soulmate's dreams and communicate with them through those dreams.

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[creedslove]

THE MILLER CHRISTMAS 🎄 🎁

Post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: a Christmas miracle is really possible for Joel?

Warnings: fluff and angst, boy dad!Joel, Sammy is back ❤️

A/N: Merry Christmas besties 🎄🎁

O.7k words

“Why are you still up, buddy?” Joel rubbed his tired eyes and walked to his son, who was on knees on the couch, so he would be tall enough to keep his little face glued to the window, watching the white snowflakes falling quietly outside. Sammy barely turned his head towards his daddy as he didn't want to miss one single little thing from outside.

“I'm waiting” the toddler's voice wasn't much more than just a whisper, as if he would scare away whoever or whatever he seemed to eagerly wait. Joel shook his head and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, sitting next to his son's small frame, his curls were messy from tossing and turning in bed, - as he'd been way too excited to fall asleep on Christmas eve, of course - and Joel chuckled to himself, thinking that you were right and it was about Sammy got a haircut.

“Are you waiting for Santa? You know he only arrives after everyone is asleep, he drinks his milk, eats his cookies, leaves the presents and goes to visit other kids…” his rough calloused hands stroked his son's hair gently, as he couldn't still quite believe that even after what happened, after the world was destroyed, after all the shit he'd done and the blood he'd shed, he was able to still have something good, to have found love in you, to have had a son in his life and to be able to safely celebrate Christmas reunited with his brother.

“No daddy, I'm waiting for the Christmas angel” Sammy shrugged and turned his attention back to the window, wanting to have another glimpse of the curious Christmas creature, at the same time Joel frowned. A Christmas angel? What the fuck was that? He had never heard of that story, he was pretty sure you had never mentioned that either and Ellie was more of a Christmas monster kind of girl, than an angel. He was confused, where could his son have possibly heard that? Maybe they told kids that in Jackson's daycare, but if that was the case, then Sammy would've said something before, wouldn't he?

“What angel is that?”

“It's a girl angel daddy… she's very pretty and she was here playing with me… then she said she had to go away but she is all the time watching us and taking care of us” he explained with a sweet smile. Joel was now suspicious, not sure if he should be worried, but maybe some girl had broken into the house to play with Sammy? What for? It didn't make the slightest sense.

“What?!”

Sammy took a deep breath, his daddy was usually very fast and smart but he didn't understand why he was so confused that night, maybe the angel had made him sleep too much.

“It's the angel daddy…” he began explaining “she is pretty and she says she always looks after our family, after me, mommy, Ellie and mostly you”

“What's this angel like?”

“She has brown curly hair and brown eyes, daddy like you and me… oh, and she said her name was Sarah!” He grinned at the exact same moment Joel's breath got stuck on his throat. He completely lost action for a while, simply looking at his son with disbelief and shock. How could Sammy make up a story like that? No, he wouldn't do that, he was a sweet kid, he would never simply make up a story out of Joel's most painful memory. Besides, he was sure he didn't know anything about his big sister Sarah, not even you knew the whole story, there was no way someone would've told him that. When he came back to his senses, he found Sammy watching him with a sweet smile. He had wrapped his small arms around his daddy's larger one and snuggled.

“The angel said you wouldn't believe it, daddy, so she asked me to give you this” he opened his tiny hand and revealed the smallest butterfly paper cutting. Purple and blue, his first little girl's favorite colors. Joel swallowed hard, tears flooding his eyes as he desperately tried to keep them in place and prevent them from falling and running down his face. It looked exactly like the paper butterflies Sarah always left scattered around her room before the outbreak. Sammy got on his feet and pecked his daddy's cheek gently

“Merry Christmas, daddy” he said cutely, before getting off the couch and returning to his room.

Joel stood there, trying to let all that information sink. He couldn't believe what was happening and even if he tried finding a logical explanation, he couldn't. Perhaps, it was just a Christmas miracle after all.

____

[devildomwriter]

Riding Through a Winter Wonder Land | Mephistopheles x Reader

800+ Words | GN! MC | CW: mildly suggestive

It had been snowing since the previous morning and the Devildom was covered in a thin layer of beautiful snow. In the absence of sunlight, it wouldn’t melt until the weather warmed again. It was only cold thanks to Diavolo attempting to provide seasonal familiarity to the RAD exchange students, more specifically you. But the event of snow was something everyone found joy in. Some preferred shutting themselves in their rooms, some slept through it until it disappeared, and others, like yourself and Mephistopheles, thought it would be the most perfect time for horseback riding.

“I can’t say I’ve gone riding in the snow for millennia now. Why I must’ve been the last cold snap where there was any sign of snow and it was mostly ice then. What a wonderful opportunity Diavolo has given us, wouldn’t you agree?”

You nodded and listened to your boyfriend sing his friend’s praises. He was right though. Seeing his horses gallop through the field in the unfamiliar snow was a beautiful sight to behold. It was even more fun watching it all while riding horseback leaning against Mephistopheles’s chest.

Devildom horses were a tad bigger than ones from the human world and much sturdier. This mare had no trouble with two or more guests at once and was comfortable with the special saddle she’d been fitted in today. Mephistopheles had made it just for the two of you in anticipation of today.

You didn’t need to look directly at him to know he was beaming as the mare left the stables down the horse trail.

“Shall we have a ride through the forest first?” He asked you and you looked up a him and nodded, smiling.

He gave you a gentle smile and lightly kicked the mare’s side so she’d quicken her trot towards the woods.

As you rested against Mephistopheles he proceeded to give you a detailed explanation of the land topography, the history of the woods, the stables, and more as he loved to do. You were never more than a minute away from Mephistopheles’ trivial lectures. He loved to show off how much he knew, especially to you whom he most wanted to impress.

“Look, there,” he said in a hushed voice and pulled the mare’s reigns to stop her. You followed his finger to a tree where a small magenta bird hopped.

“I’ve never seen one like that…” The size of a finch and such an unusual color, the bird certainly didn’t exist in the human world.

“Yes, I rarely see them, how amazing it’s come out this late in the year,” he said with satisfaction.

“What is it called?”

“A bell-chime bird, because their wing flutter is barely enough to make wind chimes ring,” he explained with a huge grin.

“You see such beautiful things in the Devildom, huh?” You commented and he nodded.

“Yes, although I don’t recommend looking up pictures of its mouth.”

“Why…”

“Well, let’s just say there are tentacles involved…” he looked like he was remembering being told Santa wasn’t real.

“I think I’ll take your word for it…” you decided and Mephistopheles kicked the mare’s side to continue your path.

You weren’t sure how long you were out there but the snow slowly increased on the ground although the faint snowfall didn’t harshen. The world was becoming more quiet as the snow absorbed the sound and the darker-colored creatures of the Devildom were in plain view thanks to the bright moon.

“Are you getting tired?” Mephistopheles asked you as you neared the end of the trail.

“Not really, why?”

Mephistopheles blushed, “I was only making sure you were okay.” Mephistopheles always seemed to be concerned with whether or not you were enjoying yourself. He was a very doting boyfriend in that sense if not also a little nosy.

The stables of Mephistopheles mansion came into view again and you grinned up at your boyfriend and the snowflakes in his hair.

“Hm, what is it?” He asked seeing your playful grin.

“You know, Mephisto…as much as I loved riding horses there’s something else I’d like to ride.” You whispered.

“Oh? Whatever you wish to ride I can make it happen,” he said confidently.

You grinned triumphantly, “Promise?”

“Yes, of course; camel, llama, elephant, unicorn, anything at all!” he had his hand in his pocket ready to pull out his D.D.D. and make it happen. “So what is it you’d like to ride next?”

“You,” you say cheekily and you watch his calm composure fall apart as he turns a deep shade of red.

“I— well I— I… now I can’t …I can’t say I don’t agree…that…that that’d be more,” he clears his throat, “___…you really have a way of throwing me off, you know?”

You laughed and felt him prod the horse to quicken its pace.

“So is that a no…?” You tease.

“It’s a yes,” he said sharply, face beat red, “at least wait until we’ve finished with our horse-riding. Honestly, what am I going to do with you?”

[five-rivers]

Season of the Skies

I started playing a game called Sky: Children of the Light recently, and although this isn't a crossover, it's definitely inspired by the vibes of that. It's a cute game!

Also, based on the feedback I got on AO3, there seems to be a significant overlap between the Phandom and Sky: Cotl players? Is that the case?

.

Reality had broken a month ago, and Danny was having the time of his life.  

He leaped lightly from rooftop to treetop and back again, gravity a dreamy afterthought.  The tiles and bark were rough beneath his bare feet, but not so rough he regretted not wearing shoes.  His impacts shook loose pollen, glitter, and a few stray petals, but did the trees no harm.  On the roofs he was silent, and no one came out to yell at him, but the window glass chimed with flashes of light.

The colors around him were bright and soft. Easy to look at, easy to fall into. The sky above was marbled with dawn-colored clouds and stars caught among distant nebulae.  Light and color were some of the first things to break, and Danny wasn't sorry to see light pollution go.  Most Everything glowed, now, and stargazing would have been terrible if eyes still worked the same way.  

At his next jump, this one taking him up a good ten feet, the feather-soft edge of the shawl he was wearing flared out behind him, brushing his arms.  The shawl was huge on him.  An old project of his great-grandmother's, it had been made with the typical Fenton girth in mind.  Honestly, it fit him more like a cape than a shawl, but he liked it that way.  

He landed safely and straightened the cape.  His dad’s needlepoint hobby had been inherited from her, so the dark blue fabric was covered in fine embroidery, lace, and tiny glass beads in shades of clear, pale blue, and white.  Great Grandma Fenton hadn't been into ghosts the same way the current Fentons were, but she'd been into something, so the patterns were strange.  Icicles, snowflakes, stars, clouds, and trees competed with lightning, runes and sigils, and strange, spirit-like creatures.  

“Hey!” shouted someone from the street below.  “Hey, Fentwerp!  What the hell do you think you're doing?”

Ah.  Dash.  Charming.  Danny leaned over the edge of the roof.  “What does it look like I'm doing?” he asked agreeably.  

“Getting your dumb nerd self killed is what it looks like,” said Dash, glowering up at Danny, his face turning red.

There.  See.  That's what Danny didn't understand.  No one else seemed willing to experiment with how the world was now.  They were all operating under the old rules, or, worse, looking for ways to fix things, as if the new world wasn't better than the old.  

Sure, it had been scary the first few days.  The suddenness.  The uncertainty.  The way systems they had relied on for so long had stuttered or failed outright.  Danny knew people had been hurt, that, in some places, they were still getting hurt.  He had been one of those people, having been in the hospital when the change rippled through the world, a result of an equipment malfunction in his parents’ lab.  

Maybe his opinion would be different if he was still getting hurt.  But as it was… why would he ever want to go back to how things were?  Why would he want to leave this world, where the colors were soft and bright, and the light sang?  Why would he want to leave this world where the air itself seemed to bear him up?  Where the possibilities seemed limitless?

There was so much more potential for good, with the world as it was than as it had been.  So much less potential for harm.  This was a more finished version of the world.  All the rough edges were gone, and filled with wonder.  He could feel it.

“Get down here!” demanded Dash, when Danny didn't respond.  

“No,” said Danny.  

“Get down here or else.”

“Or else what?” asked Danny, genuinely curious.  Dash couldn't get up here.  No one else could, as far as Danny knew. They hadn't taken the time to work out the new rules for gravity. 

Dash clenched his hands into fists, then stooped to grab a fairly large rock.  Danny, seeing no reason to just let Dash throw it at him, left.  

“Hey!” shouted Dash.  “Hey!  Freakton!  Get back here!”

Names like that were a lot less distressing when the people using them had no power to hurt you.  

Danny continued on his path upwards, touching on higher and higher buildings.  It was tough to get the proper amount of momentum to make some of his jumps, especially since he'd stopped to talk to Dash, but he managed to make all of them, and soon he was standing on top of the tallest building in Amity Park.  

In the center of the roof was a small tree, a sapling.  It hadn't been there the first time Danny had made it up here, and it had grown rapidly since then.  Next time he came, it'd probably be taller than he was. 

For now, though, Danny knelt to check the roots where they grew through a widening crack in the building's roof.  He'd warned the people in the building (he had warned everyone in buildings that had suddenly found themselves with roof trees), but he hadn't heard that anyone had done anything about it, and the roof trees felt friendly to him, so he hadn't pushed the issue.  From the descriptions and pictures Sam had given him, this one seemed healthy enough.  

He pulled a bottle from his backpack and gave the tree a generous sprinkle.  Then he stood up, gave the crown of leaves an affectionate ruffle, and made his way to the edge of the roof.

The city spread out in all directions below him, vibrant and changing.  Towards the edges of town, some buildings had lifted off their foundations, becoming floating islands.  Across the viridian, iridescent forest to the north, he could see blue-bright-gray flashes of Lake Eerie.  Fentonworks was easily visible off to the west, silver dishes and spires chased with green halos.  The parks bloomed with flowers both alien and familiar, vines trailing up into the air, trees growing explosively fast.  A breeze from behind turned his attention south, and he saw high clouds letting down shimmering curtains of rain.  

It wasn’t like Amity Park had been drab and horrible before, but why would anyone want to go back?

He looked away, back down at the street far below him.  Steeling himself, he grasped the edges of the shawl, he spread his arms wide.  

“Time to lift off,” he said, quietly.  “T-minus ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two–” Where he would have said one, he instead inhaled deeply.  Where he would have said zero, he jumped.  

For a heart-stopping moment, he wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake, if he’d made an error in his calculations, if reality had chosen that moment to reassert itself and he was about to drop like a rock.  

The moment passed quickly.  He was flying.  Or, at least, gliding.  

He laughed, and flapped his ‘wings.’  The shawl snapped behind him and gave him a small amount of lift.  

He was doing it.  He was doing it.  

And now that he was doing it, it felt as natural as breathing.  All that planning, all those calculations, all that running, climbing, and jumping–

He could fly.  

Oh, maybe it wasn’t as impressive as it would have been in the old world, where gravity was a cruel mistress.  But it was still flight, unpowered, human flight, and no one he knew of had done this before.  

He laughed, and banked to the side, flying in spirals.  He wasn’t brave enough to try a loop, yet, but he would, eventually, when he learned more about this.  

His spirals took him over the park, the school, the mall, even the Nasty Burger.  But he was losing altitude, his arms were getting tired, and he knew that if he got too close to the ground, gravity would get him again.  Not to the point of hurting him at all, but he didn’t want to land just anywhere after all this work.  

He tipped his wings westward, and started gliding home, pumping his ‘wings’ as infrequently as he could get away with.  He didn’t quite make it all the way back to his front door, but he got close, just a few houses down the street.  He rubbed his shoulders.  That was going to leave him sore.  He’d have to work out and practice more if he wanted to fly any real distance.  He'd also need a way to take off that didn’t involve climbing the tallest building in town. 

The front door of Fentonworks slammed open, revealing a pale Jack and a furiously pink Maddie.

“Daniel James Fenton!  What do you think you're doing?”

Danny looked down at his bare feet, then back up at his parents.  “Walking?”

Maddie sucked a breath in between her teeth.  “Inside,” she said

Danny hurried to obey, taking the steps up to the door two at a time and squeezing past her and Jack to get into the house.  Maddie closed the door behind him. 

“So, um,” said Danny, shuffling from foot to foot.  “What, um.  I thought you guys were going to be working all day today?”

“On the Ops Center,” said Jack.  “Not in the la– Not downstairs.”

Danny made note of the near-slip but didn’t comment on it.  He was already in trouble.  He didn’t need to remind them that the lab didn’t exactly exist anymore and make their mood worse.  

“Oh,” he said.  “What were you–?”

“Never mind what we were doing.  What were you doing?  What were you thinking, jumping off a building like that?  You could have died?”

“Or been seriously hurt!”

“But I wasn’t!  I’m fine.  I planned it all out, and it worked.”

“And it shouldn’t have!” shouted Jack and Maddie at the same time.  

Danny blinked up at them.  “What?”

Jack explained.  “We’ve been tracking the changes to gravity, too, Danny.  We’ve been measuring it, measuring all the changes, to see what those darn ghosts did.”

Danny held back a sigh.  There still wasn’t any sign that ghosts had done this, or even that ghosts existed.  

“Gravity might have changed a bit,” continued Jack, “but not enough to keep a human being airborne like that.”

“There are whole buildings floating,” said Danny.  “I’m a lot smaller than a building.”

“The rules seem to be different for different masses, as well as different altitudes,” said Maddie, making a face.  

“Yeah!  It’s really exciting.  We’re trying to measure the ectoplasm levels– It has to be related, but we haven’t been able to detect any yet– Those ghosts are tricky, son–”  

“Well, yeah.  But the rules are also different for things that are alive.”

“Really?” asked Jack, leaning close.  

“Uh, yes?  Otherwise I wouldn’t have done, um.  That.  I tested it.”

“You tested it?  Did you write it down?”

Danny nodded, cautiously.  Jack swept him off his feet.  “Our boy has been doing science, Mads!”

“He’s been jumping off of buildings!”

“Putting his research to practical use!”

“He’s been jumping off buildings without being peer reviewed!”

“Oh, yeah, son, you should have had someone check your work.”

“You never get peer reviewed,” said Danny, scowling.  

“That’s different,” said Maddie, quickly.  

“If anyone else believed in ghosts, you’d be sure we would be!”  

Hanging limp in Jack’s arms, Danny grumbled.  

“Danny,” said Maddie.  

“Yes?” he mumbled.  

“No more testing theories without checking in with us first.  Safety first.  You should know this by now.”

Danny hunched his shoulders and tried not to think too hard about his scars.  They weren’t very visible, and the doctors had said that they’d fade away, probably entirely, eventually, but they were still there now, if you knew where to look.

A month ago, reality had broken.  

A few days before that, Danny had almost died.  Lab accident.  It turned out that his parents thought portals to other dimensions which may or may not exist needed a lot of electricity and chemicals to function.  Danny had been curious.  He’d wanted to explore, to investigate.  He’d stepped on a loose wire that had led to a capacitor.  He’d been horribly electrocuted, and then exposed to a chemical cocktail.  Sam and Tucker, who had been in the lab with him, had called for an ambulance, and he’d been brought to the hospital.

At least, that’s what he was told, later.  He hadn’t woken up until he’d been in the hospital for a few days.  Of course, when he had woken up, he did so because a bunch of the medicines going into him had started to do weird things while reality restructured itself, and that had been… incredibly unpleasant.  Everyone had been grateful that only a very few things - like whatever Danny had been on to take care of the chemicals he’d picked up in the lab - had acted like that.

Later, Jazz had told Danny that for a brief period of time between the accident and reality breaking, Jack and Maddie had sworn off ghost hunting.  Presumably forever.  But once the laws of physics, chemistry, and biology started to rebel and twist, they’d taken it back.  Well, to be fair, apparently they didn’t take it back until the lab disappeared.  And the Fenton Stockades.    

Although, to be fair in the other direction, it was more a case of everyone’s basements disappearing and being replaced by weird misty caverns than ghosts specifically targeting his parents.  It was a whole thing. 

(Personally, Danny was glad to see them go, although it had sounded like Sam was mourning hers.)

“Danny,” said Maddie, “tell us that you understand.”

“I understand.  I don’t test theories without you,” said Danny, grudgingly.  “Not even about cool things like flying.”

Maddie scowled.  Jack beamed.  

“Great!” shouted Jack.  He whirled Danny around again.  “Let’s go see your data!  Where is it?”

“Upstairs,” mumbled Danny.  “I’ve got a notebook.”

“A notebook, Mads!”  

Maddie sighed.  “Alright, let’s see the notebook.”

[talesofesther]

find the beauty

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: Wednesday is infatuated with you; in a snowy walk, she might just do something about it.

Requested by multiple anons for my Christmas Special event.

A/N: Soft Wednesday because I said so. Changed the requests just a tiny bit but hope y'all like it. Prompts used: 3, 8, 11, 13, 14, 19. So if you requested any of these together, this is for you. <3

Masterlist

You were different than most people. When Wednesday said she liked thunderstorms, she would mostly receive weird looks and questions about why she'd like something so gloomy; but you saw beauty in the way the lightning painted the skies and the rain fell heavily against the windows. You told Wednesday you enjoyed the cold weather on your skin, and how there was poetry to wearing black in someone's honor.

Wednesday didn't do feelings. But she felt a lot for you.

Her infatuation with you was something undeniable, it made her think of her father making heart eyes for her mother, and sometimes it made her sick to her stomach. But the thought of living without this feeling was simply unappealing.

Maybe that's why, when the day started with snow falling nonstop from the sky, she asked you out. She didn't use the word date, but it had been on her mind when she put on her trenchcoat and walked to your dorm.

The school already had a thin layer of snow on its grounds; the trees were bare of leaves and the once stone path now created footprints over a white blanket as you walked by the garden.

"The snow is so pretty isn't it?" You asked mindlessly, turning your palm up and watching as snowflakes slowly collected on top of your glove.

"It's pleasant, yes," Wednesday answered, her gaze moving from you to the looming trees around her that had grown enough to form an archway for you to walk under.

"Oh hey, look," you jogged a little ways further, stopping under a lower branch that had something attached to it. Standing on your tiptoes, you shook off the snow that covered the little green leaves; "it's a small mistletoe."

Wednesday knew of the silly tradition, though it didn't stop her from walking the rest of the way to you. She came to a stop in front of you, her personal space mingling with yours.

"I wonder who put this here." You hummed, only then glancing down from the mistletoe hanging above you to notice Wednesday standing before you.

There was something about seeing her with an immensity of white around her that was enchanting; with her dark eyes and raven hair, she looked like a painting, like something out of a dream of yours.

And yet here she was, her eyes traveling up to yours in a tender blink, features as soft as you've ever seen them; her hair loose for once, falling in waves over her shoulders as her hands rested on the pockets of her coat; her lips with the ghost of a tilt to them that if you didn't know better, you'd say you were her dream as much as she's yours.

You glanced away from Wednesday then, eyes downcast as your cheeks turned pink under her gaze.

"Your cheeks are flushed, why?" There was a soft furrow to Wednesday's eyebrows as she asked, she could see tiny snowflakes clinging to your hair and even smaller ones settling on your eyelashes; they touched you with delicacy, all intimate and tender as some of the flakes melted on you. For some reason, Wednesday was envious of their privilege.

"It's uh- just the wind," you uttered the first little lie that came to your mind, because saying that she was the reason for the color on your cheeks seemed too much.

Wednesday closed her gloved hands into fists as she took in a breath. The air came out past her lips in a white puff, and she waited until it faded completely before taking a bold step closer.

There was a snowflake resting on your bottom lip, so small you didn't even feel it, but it was taunting Wednesday. If she tilted her head forward just a bit, her nose would be brushing yours. And why was that the only thing she could think about?

Your eyes finally found Wednesday's again when she stepped closer to you, so close you could see every speck of color on her lips, every little freckle over her nose and cheeks. Would she be mad if you leaned in just a tad further?

There was no telling who kissed who first, you just ended up meeting in the middle.

Wednesday kissed the snowflake away from your lips, claiming them as her own for good. One of her hands came up to your cheek, feeling your warmth underneath her palm as her lips moved against yours.

If a machine was to check your heartbeat right now, it would go crazy as the lines came in shambles. There was something addictive about Wednesday, about the way her hair touched your eyelashes when she turned or how she pulled away oh so slowly and opened her eyes even slower; that got you all warm and fuzzy even on the coldest day of the year.

You decided it was a privilege, to see her in this new light.

Wednesday's gaze was darting all over your face after she pulled away, casting over every little emotion on you.

She smiled something shy, all soft and intimate, taking a shot at vulnerability; a small tilt of her lips that barely showed her dimples.

You leaned in to touch your forehead with hers for a moment. It felt a lot like a promise.

And maybe that's why she took your hand on the way back to school.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @gayestfeels26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @witchyhs-blog @tobylikesfire @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest

[instarsandcrime]

Under the Weather

Oh my God @rosieknows you put me up to a really fun challenge!! Vo/x and A/la/stor are the two characters that are the hardest to write for me. But I really enjoyed this and it took so long because it became. Almost 7 pages???? It's a bit long and wordy but I hope you enjoy it, and that it matched what you wanted as a request!

Song near the end is Lady Luck by Ted Lewis and His Band from the musical "Show of Shows".

Thank you so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

---

Alastor would not call himself a reckless man.

He prided himself on his calculations, his patience, and a dash of eloquence for good measure. After all, you can't slice your game without a well-sharpened cleaver.

But if there was one thing The Radio Demon lacked, his one Achilles Heel, was the eye of Lady Luck. Today, for instance. All it took was her flick of the wrist and a winter blizzard had all but ended him. He trudged through the snow, steaming breath hot on his face as it carried on the wind. Without an audience to speak of, and a lack of energy to even hide his misery, he rubbed at a raw nose that wrinkled against the cold.

Sadly, his near-frozen fingers did little to ease what came next.

“Hgg’tshzzzt! Het’tchzzzzt!” He wrenched out, stumbling...somewhere. Strange, he seemed to forget where his path went. His mind began to frost over as a sudden dizziness overtook him from reaching…reaching…where…where was he going again? His snowflake-laden eyelids drooped, swaying on his feet as his impromptu nap was rudely interrupted with a stinging itch that didn’t seem to quit. He wrapped his arms around himself. Image be damned, there was no one around and he was determined to keep his warmth. He was absolutely not going to...t-to...!

“Het’TSSZZZEW! Oh, fuhh..for God's sa-sakeET’SHHHZ̴̠͕͝Z̵̢̛͓̅͛Z̷͈̈́̄̕T̶̢̛̲͇̫͊͛͐̈́!̸̱̟̰̝̗̃” He gasped for air, barely catching himself on his cane. Of course there was nothing more he could do, could he? He was all but reduced to a walking shell. There was no path. There was no opportunity. There was no plan.

“Well, well, well! If it isn't Hell's most ancient artifact!” The ghost of a memory lit through the fog that was just about to swallow him whole. He would be more grateful, if said ghost wasn’t the most annoying burr that dared to attach itself to him every chance it got.

So in the face of his prey he did what he did best: straighten his spine, tug on his lapels, and flash Vox a smile. Despite the fact that its edges were already wearing at the seams. Despite the fact that he felt his face tingle with a rising heat. Despite the fact that, no matter how hard he tried, his nose just wouldn't. Stop. Streaming.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Can’t take a little water? Is the ol’ machinery finally rusting over?”

“I'm ahh-- afraid I don't know what...what you mean.” Alastor cleared his throat to stifle a cough, uncomfortably aware that it did little to hide the rasp in his voice. He quickly pulled his handkerchief from his breast pocket to stall the mess, cringing as its soaked fabric bit the tip, flickering tickle building to a dizzying roar.

“Oh come on! Have you looked in a mirror lately? You look even older than you usually...do...” Vox’s sharp grin fell, screen flickering lightly as he leaned in closer. And for a brief moment, Alastor too was stunned to see the reflection that stared back. His shivering frame rocked his entire body, forcing it to wilt as pathetically as the ears that once stuck straight up. His nose was not unlike the color of his suit, feverishly flushed and twitching madly as he slowly lost the battle against an itch that never seemed to...to...!

“Hgg'tshhhew! Hih-Hegg’tshhhhew!” He let out another desperate set, and Vox yelped as he stumbled back.

“Jesus, fuck! Watch where you're pointing that thing!”

“Well maybe if you weren't in my way you w-wouldn't…h-hhheh..! HeT̴̗͓̱͘̕͜S̵̮͚̽́C̵̼̱̠͎͓̀̊H̴͎̬͓͎͓̋́Ź̸̧̩̺̪̝͗̒͠Z̸͔̟͖̒̑͘ͅŹ̸͍͚̝̊̍T̸͔̔̽͌!̷̢̰̯̳́̀̉͒!“

Unable to safely trust his sensitive skin with the handkerchief he carried, he helplessly sneezed into the crook of his collar-- to no avail as the obvious happened and panic began to set in. He could only mourn his sloppy state of mind as he doubled over again.

“Het'tschhh! Het’shh! ‘Tschhh! ‘Tschh’HEW!” Alastor could feel himself lose control of his body. A blur of tentacles broke through the snow, writhing and curling in agony. And though the street was blurred with irritated tears and overwhelming vertigo, he swore he could feel unseen eyes crawl up his back. Examining him on a butcher’s block, sharpened cleavers waiting for the right angle to slice.

“Stop it. S-stop-- kaff! stop looking at me! All…all of you...” Alastor protested through slurring words. 

“There’s...uh. There’s nobody here.” Vox answered.

And all too suddenly the audience grew quieter, satiated– a fever dream that nearly willed itself into existence. But it didn’t matter. All The Radio Demon could do was fall limp into the snow like a ragdoll, landing with a sickening crunch, a sudden gasp responding in kind. If Alastor had the energy to laugh, he would. An all-powerful Overlord reduced to a useless toy. For once, Vox had The Radio Demon in his hands. He had the power to end his life. A limp ear twitched when Vox made the first move. The mounds of ice beneath him shifted. His opponent was thinking. Most likely deciding on how to kill him, or worse. A sharp row of claws slipped to his waist and...

...gently uprighted him, slinging one arm over his savior's neck. Then pulled close, fans whirring to life and soaking the android's wool suit like a soft bedwarmer.

And as two sets of foosteps picked up again, Vox grumbled out an irritable, “You're a fucking idiot.”

For the first time in his afterlife, Alastor couldn't help but agree.

The rest of the walk was a passing blur. By the time Alastor's eyes had opened and awareness returned, the ice between his bones had thawed under layers of blankets— though the ache between his eyes wasn’t quite as settled. He reached to massage the bridge of his nose, mortified to find that it was still horribly sensitive. He clenched his teeth and tried to will the sneeze back–

“Seriously? Again? Come on, it’s not like we’re on air.”

– as Vox continued to examine him, luck still run dry. He sat opposite on an identical couch, leaning over the coffee table between them.

“Why were you out in a storm.” He narrowed his eyes.

“I see no need to dihh...!" Don't you dare! "Di- snfff! dihh-! ...hhh...d-discuss my mundane shopping excursions.” Alastor breathed out, hiding a sigh of relief as the budding tickle subsided.

“Ouch! You have to be feeling like shit if your lies are this bad.”

“And why would I bother concealing the answer to such a ridiculous question? Are you really interested in my everyday activities? My, your obsession for me must run deep.”

A spark popped from Vox’s antennae. “Will you shut up and take this seriously?! I'm trying to interrogate you!”

Alastor hummed, unimpressed as his dulled eyes swept the room. Garish pink and gold wallpaper rudely invaded his vision, wallpaper and furniture alike littered with disgustingly gaudy hearts. And to add insult to injury, the hideous decor touted posters of a familiar Overlord's sex workers. The most famous front and center, proudly rubbing a quote on quote “sexy as fuck” smirk in his face. Well. At the very least, The Radio Demon respected his attempts to make that miserable masquerade of a smile real.

But still.

Eugh.

“You really must choose a more intimidating cell for your next victim. Unless you mean to torture me with sparkles and hearts.” Technical clockwork whirred irritably, flickering screen brightening at the center, not unlike a flustered blush. Alastor's smug grin widened. Pushing himself up on a couch that smelled of smoke and cheap cologne, he grabbed the cane leaning against an armrest, clutching the handle with a death grip. “Now if you'll excuse me, I-- kff kfff! I must be going. I can only entertain your antics for so long."

"Whoa, hey, wait! Don't you dare--"

The second Alastor stood his body swayed, caught in another wave of dizziness. He was pulled in all directions, pitching down down down-- and into Vox's arms.

“The fuck! I saved you from a double death, the least you can do is listen to me!” He spat.

“Oh? And why should I do that?” Alastor huffed. He couldn't help but feel humiliation return at the way he was cradled– cradled– bridal style. Slipped back into the makeshift bed, Vox motioned to the wall wordlessly. Slowly, carefully, Alastor followed suit, paling at the garish sight of his shadow. Its form dripped heavily like ink, clutching its chest and swaying dangerously. Its ears pinned to its skull, stomach heaving once. Twice. Until the tickle that still lingered brushed just under Alastor's nostrils and he found the damn thing mirroring his every feeling, physical or otherwise. He cursed, instinctively reaching for the ruined handkerchief in his breast pocket— when a box of tissues was unceremoniously shoved under the crook of his arm.

“There. There's your fucking reason. Now stay. Down.” Vox hissed through gritted teeth.

And through a string of curses, Alastor ripped two— three— five tissues from the box, bringing it to his nose. “Het’kshhh!! Het’kschhhzzt! Hehh…hekt-! Het’KSCHHHZZT!!”

His lungs finally gave out, collapsing back into the cushions with a hacking cough, wincing in pain.

“Y'see?” Vox snapped, “You suck at not dying but you keep tempting it anyway! How the fuck am I supposed to keep my viewers entertained if you keep doing that?!”

“Doi'g– kff! ...what? ETCHHḤ̵̡̰̣͌̽Z̶̧̠̙̍Ẕ̶̼̱̬̆Ź̵̦T̵̢̳̅͌̊̓!” Alastor wheezed out, blowing his nose. Dignification be damned, he was already saved by this walking, talking eyesore. He didn't expect to sink any lower. “I-- Snff! Ugh, pardon me-- I don't follow.”

“That!” Vox gestured wildly, “That whole ego shit you've got goin' on!”

Alastor opened his mouth to question when a palm pressed to his head. All words died in his throat, and the world came to a standstill, claws blaring with each mechanical beep.

"...102.4." Vox decided, "Ugh, no wonder you're dizzy. Your body's probably running on empty and…uh."

He faltered when he met Alastor’s face– eyelids fluttered closed, ears drooped. He pressed further into the cool, metallic palm, entirely hypnotized. Involuntarily peace only lasting a moment before he stepped back at the sudden telltale twitch of his patient’s nose.

"Et’schhhzzt! Heh-eh-S̵͇̓̀͜C̶̮̻̉H̸̗̃Z̵̛͎͋Z̶̮̖̀͋Z̴͍͎͝Z̷̬̼̀T̷͕̦̓!" He pitched forward, the reluctant caretaker yelping as he barely dodged another wild, uncontrollable circle of tentacles. Shivering, frost laced Alastor’s breath as the lights in the room flickered and darkened– only for a moment as he felt the weight of a comforter. He sunk into the sudden warmth, shadowy whips snaking under the floorboards and disappearing entirely.

"Look, just. Let’s call whatever this is a truce, okay?" An onyx-tipped ear twitched in response from under the hem of the covers. Suddenly, a piercing whistle broke through the darkness. When he opened his eyes time had apparently passed, and Vox was hovering over him with a mug of tea-- and of course it was the Fuck Alastor mug.

"How charming." He sighed, feeling the heat of the ceramic between his claws, relishing the steam that loosened his slowly growing headache. Taking another tissue, he pressed it to his nose to keep from sniffling back the loose congestion that threatened to drip.

"I can see why you wanted to sponsor that broken down shack of a hotel. You're all so weak it's sad--"

"Rosie's."

Vox blinked, "...What?"

"Let me be perfectly clear: I'm only giving you what you want so you will finally stop screeching at me." Alastor muffled in cotton fabric. "I was going to Rosie's to..." His static-laced voice trailed off, as if testing the right words in his mouth. "...treat this bothersome illness."

Silence fell over the room. Vox stared like he had just burst into flames.

"I, uh. Oh." He stumbled over his own stuttering before readjusting himself, sharpening his smile and definitely not wiping the shock from his mind. "I-I mean Christ, about time!"

The Radio Demon narrowed his eyes, doing his best to focus and not somehow slip into unconsciousness while lying down. "I am simply doing this for my survival since you won't leave me to rest-- koff koff! Oh-- koff! Oh, dear." He mumbled, sipping the honey-laced drink to calm his throat. Surfacing with a soft hum to test his voice. "Besides, my death by illness is far less entertaining for you than viewed on those tacky picture boxes of yours."

And from the way you aren't broadcasting my suffering in the first place, your current motives are far more personal. He wanted to add. But didn't-- for his pounding headache, mostly. He wasn't interested in another childish tantrum complete with competitive singing. Instead he felt himself fade again, and allowed it. If not to see Vox's angry face one last time.

The next time Vox woke, the couch was empty.

Good. Finally rid of that smug ass face and stupid fuck ass bob, he rose to his feet, stretching his limbs and popping his spine for good measure— getting his synthetic nerves back in working order. Finally free of that walking malware, he could finally resume his work. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the empty mug resting on the nightstand. Well, it wouldn't hurt to check the balcony. Or the mini bar. And y'know, behind the TV. Just in case the dumbass decided to slink into the shadows.

And as he stepped up to the screen, the sudden blast of snowy static made him nearly leap out of his skin. A rapidly beating heart in his ears calmed, making way for a distant melody that played on the radio waves.

--Come on show me

Show me that you've got it

I wanna see that golden smile.

Oh Lady Luck, I knew, I knew you should

I knew I knew you would be good to me!--

Vox quickly flicked the remote with tightened fingers, an annoyed sigh breaking the short silence.

He really could never read that guy.