#as much as you can call this finished at least

[wonderjanga]

I May be a Kid but I’m not a Kid Kid.

When Billy’s secret identity was revealed, he started getting treated like a little kid. It really annoys him whenever these guys try to baby him.

Supes: “Billy, uhm… we were wondering if you would like to be moved to the Teen Titans.”

Marvel: “What…?” *sounds absolutely horrified at the thought of that* “Why?”

Supes: “You’d around kids your age.”

Marvel: *stares and blinks rapidly* “Are you saying you’re gonna demote me to the Teen Titans of all things? No offense.”

Supes: “Billy, it’s not a demotion.”

Marvel: “But it is. I’ve been on this team for what? Four years- almost five. You guys are acting like my age automatically means I can’t be a good hero anymore.”

Supes: “We’re not saying that. We just think it’d be good if you were on a team of heroes around your age.”

Marvel: “But you are. You’re literally all but saying it. I like those kids but not enough to want to be on a team with them.” *doesn’t know if he’d like listening to Robin’s condescension in more than small doses* “I prefer you guys. We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

Supes: “Of course!” *happy Billy is still somewhat comfortable around them*

Marvel: “Good.” *smiles* “Besides, I do hang out with kids around my age. Mary and I are the same age while Junior’s a year older than us.”

Supes: “He’s the oldest?”

This conversation got them to back off about kicking him off the team. That didn’t stop them from poking their stupid adult noses into other parts of Billy’s heroics though.

Marvel: *helping someone at like 2am because he patrols as much as he can*

Supes: “Captain! Whatcha doing up this late, champ?”

Marvel: *makes a face that being called champ, but doesn’t say anything about it* “Uh… patrolling? *finishes helping the person*

Supes: “Patrolling? It’s a little late- er early for that. Isn’t it?”

Marvel: “I guess…? I still have a couple more hours.”

Supes: “Shouldn’t you be turning in earlier?”

Marvel: “No…?”

Supes: “Aren’t you tired though? Kids need plenty of sleep.”

Marvel: *a little irked at being called a kid but brushes it off* “Stamina of Atlas, remember?”

Supes: “Oh.” *silence* “Well, maybe you could still turn in earlier?”

Marvel: *looks around for any hidden cameras* “No.”

Supes: “Oh okay…” *doesn’t really want to seem controlling so he just sulks while flying back to Metropolis*

Don’t worry, Superman trying to give him a curfew isn’t the only thing a nosy adult tried to do.

Marvel: “Mr. Batman Sir? Are the new long term mission signs up sheets out yet?”

Batman: “Ah, yes.” *hands him the sign up tablet* “There are three new ones.”

Marvel: “Great! Any potential overlaps?”

Batman: “Only these two.” *points to two missions*

Marvel: “How long would these two last?” *points to one of the overlapping missions and the one that doesn’t overlap*

Batman: “Together would be about a month and a half or longer.”

Marvel: “Cool.” *is about to sign up for them*

Batman: *remembers school exists* “And school?”

Marvel: *pauses so he can look at Bruce confused* “What about it?”

Batman: “If you sign up for these, you’ll miss at least a month or two. You’d be stuck catching up.”

Marvel: *laughs* “You say that if I actually go to school.”

Batman: “You don’t?”

Marvel: “No.”

Batman: “I see.” *takes the tablet away before Billy can sign* “Well, you’ll go now then.”

Marvel: *thinks he’s joking* “What?”

Batman: “I’ll enroll you in a school in Fawcett.”

Marvel: *stares for a solid minute* “Mr. Batman Sir, you’re not sending me to school.”

Batman: “Yes, I am. William-”

Marvel: “Don’t call me that.”

Batman: *sighs* “Billy, education is important. You shouldn’t put it off for heroics. Even Robin goes to school.”

Marvel: “Okay? I’m not a Robin though. And that only works because you guys patrol at night. If I go to school I’ll miss my day-patrol.”

Batman: “I’m sure there are plenty of other heroes in Fawcett who patrol during the day. Why not leave it to one of them?”

Marvel: “Because I don’t want to. I like saving people. The more heroes who are out in Fawcett, the less likely somebody might get glossed over and hurt because a hero wasn’t there in time to save them. I don’t wanna be the person that failed them just because I was busy with school or because I went to bed early… I say that last part because no matter what Supes thinks, he’s not subtle about wanting me to have a darn curfew.”

Batman: *stares in silence because he now feels a little bad and also empathizes with that “what if I’m not there mentality*

Marvel: *thinks that silence is Bruce still not understanding him* “Look, if you still don’t get what I’m trying to say, imagine if someone came into Gotham and tried pushing you out of the superhero business just because they thought you unfit to be hero. That’s how I feel in this situation. I don’t tell you guys how to your jobs, so why are you trying to tell me?” *reaches over to grab the tablet a sign up for the two missions he wanted to take*

Yeah… Batman started treating him normally after that. Supes also did because his superhearing caught the convo.

Then, there’s his relationship with Flash and GL. They’d taken to treating him like a little kid or nephew even though Billy doesn’t want that.

Marvel: “Could you guys uh- stop treating me like a kid?” *sounds disappointed them*

Flash: *somehow still feels dread at the disappointment even though, NO, this guy is younger than him, why does Barry still feel like he disappointed his dad?* “You are a kid though.”

Marvel: “Yeah, I know, but you didn’t used to do this before.”

GL: *also dislikes that he’s bothered by the Dad Disappointment��️ radiating off of Marvel* “That was before we knew you were a kid though.”

Marvel: “Yeah, well I don’t care. I don’t need you to act like this. I don’t want you to act like this. I want friends, not chaperones or parental figures or anything stupid like that. I don’t like that you’re treating me differently now.” *sounds bitter* “You guys seem to forget that I’ve been doing this since before most of you were even, excuse my language, sperm cells. And sure, there was suspendium, but I fought Nazis, commies, and my own villains on top of that, all without being treated like a defenseless little kid and I ended up just fine. So I don’t need any of you acting like I’m a stupid little baby.”

That shut them up. It didn’t make any of the relationships between Billy and them go back to normal though. Not completely anyways. At least it was somewhat better though.

By the way, Billy, throughout all of this, just sounds bitter about being treated like this. He misses his friends guys :(.

[0omillo0]

Felix angst/comfort (you can use this for the clingy series) where Felix feels the constant need to spend time with Y/N ( also rip this hits home for me) and Y/N is, for the first time in their life, not clingy. Like Felix perceives their actions as clingy but in their mind they feels free and as least clingy as they’ve ever been. And then Felix does the whole calls them clingy. And they have to take a moment because they, for once, felt so confident in themselves that they weren’t being clingy, and now they are second guessing themselves. (This is weirdly personal, I’ve been here before, please give mega angst but even more comfort)

Calling you clingy

Felix x Reader ; angst -> comfort

a/n: I hope this is what you wanted! merry christmas loves

Felix had always been a gentle, steady presence in your life—a warmth you could lean into when the world felt cold. His kindness had a way of pulling you out of your head, grounding you when your insecurities threatened to take over. You loved him for it.

But lately, his warmth felt different. He’d been clinging to you in ways you didn’t recognize, filling the spaces between your conversations with a soft desperation. He was more insistent on spending time together—seeking you out even when you felt perfectly fine sitting in your solitude.

At first, it was easy to brush off. Felix was affectionate by nature, and you’d always loved that about him. But when his gentle invitations turned into subtle comments—“Oh, you’re busy again?”—and his eyes lingered on you just a beat too long, you felt a weight you couldn’t explain.

It hurt, because for the first time in your life, you weren’t chasing validation. You weren’t battling the constant fear of being too much. Instead, you’d been reclaiming a sense of independence—spending time with yourself and learning to love the quiet.

You had felt proud. Free. For once, you didn’t feel the urge to text Felix every hour or overthink every interaction. And it had been working. The days felt lighter, and you believed you were finding a balance between nurturing your relationship with him and nurturing yourself.

And yet, tonight unraveled everything.

“Hey,” Felix called softly, pulling your attention away from the pile of papers on your desk.

The sound of his voice was cautious, hesitant, and you immediately turned to face him. “Yeah?” you asked, a small smile on your face. “What’s up?”

Felix shifted in place, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he searched for the right words. He looked like a boy on the verge of confessing something he thought would ruin everything. “Can I… ask you something?”

“Of course.” You set down your pen, turning your full attention to him.

His gaze dropped, and you noticed the way his hands fidgeted at his sides. “Do you think… maybe you’ve been a little clingy lately?”

For a second, the words didn’t register.

Clingy?

Your heart sank, the air leaving your lungs in an instant. The weight of his question crashed into you, heavy and suffocating, as if the room had suddenly shrunk around you. “Clingy?” you echoed, your voice small and disbelieving.

He nodded, wincing slightly as if bracing for backlash. “I mean… you’re always around. You always want to hang out, and I love being with you—I do. But sometimes I feel like…” He trailed off, clearly unsure how to soften the blow.

“Like I’m suffocating you,” you finished for him, bitterness creeping into your tone.

“No!” Felix said quickly, his eyes wide and panicked. “No, it’s not that. I just… I need a little space sometimes. And I don’t want you to take that the wrong way.”

But how else could you take it? You stared at him, your stomach twisting violently. His words felt like a knife turning in an old wound you’d spent years trying to heal.

Clingy.

That label had haunted you for as long as you could remember. It was the word that stuck to you like a shadow, the fear that kept you second-guessing every relationship, every friendship. But you had worked so hard to overcome it. You’d been careful—so careful—to give Felix the space he deserved while finally giving yourself the freedom to breathe.

And now, the one person who made you feel safe had torn that progress apart.

“Felix…” you started, your voice trembling. You swallowed hard, willing yourself not to cry. “I’ve been trying so hard not to be clingy. Like… so hard.”

His brow furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What?”

“I’ve been holding back,” you said, the words tumbling out in a bitter rush. “I’ve been giving you space. I haven’t been texting you constantly, or asking to hang out every second, or freaking out if I don’t hear from you for a while. I thought I was finally getting it right.” Your voice cracked, and you looked away, trying to rein in the tears that threatened to spill.

Felix’s expression shifted, the weight of your words hitting him like a freight train. “Y/N…”

“But I guess even when I think I’m doing better, it’s still not enough,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” Felix said, stepping forward. His face crumpled with regret as he reached for you. “No, that’s not true. I didn’t mean it like that. I swear—”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, stepping back out of his reach. Your hands clenched at your sides as you tried to steady your breath. “I get it. You need space. I’ll give you your space.”

“No, Y/N, don’t do that,” Felix said, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t—”

“I just need a minute, okay?” you said quickly, the words coming out sharper than you intended.

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Felix standing there with his heart in his throat.

The door clicked shut behind you, and the silence of your room felt deafening. You sank onto your bed, your mind spiraling with questions you couldn’t answer.

Had you been too much? Had you failed to notice something you should have?

You replayed every interaction in your head, dissecting your choices and second-guessing the progress you’d been so proud of.

Meanwhile, Felix sat outside your door, his knees pulled to his chest. His head was heavy in his hands, guilt eating away at him with every passing second. He didn’t know what had possessed him to say those words—words that clearly cut you so deeply.

Finally, he knocked softly, his voice trembling. “Y/N?”

There was no response.

“Please,” he tried again, his throat tight. “I didn’t mean what I said. I wasn’t thinking. Please, let me in.”

After a long moment, the door opened, revealing your tear-streaked face. Felix’s heart broke all over again. Without a second thought, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as tightly as he could.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t realize how hard you’d been trying… and I just—” He exhaled shakily. “I was scared.”

You stiffened slightly in his arms. “Scared?”

He nodded, pulling back to meet your eyes. “I thought maybe you didn’t need me as much anymore. And I know that’s selfish, but it made me panic. I thought maybe you were pulling away because you didn’t want to be around me.”

His words sank in slowly, and your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. “Felix… I wasn’t pulling away. I was trying to find a balance. For me. For us.”

“I know,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “And I ruined it. I’m so sorry, Y/N. You’re not clingy. You’re amazing, and I’m so, so lucky to have you.”

His sincerity broke through your walls, and you leaned into his embrace, letting his warmth comfort you. “I just don’t want to lose you,” you murmured.

“You won’t,” Felix promised, holding you tighter. “I’ll do better. I’ll listen better. And I’ll never call you clingy again. I swear.”

You stayed in his arms for what felt like forever, the steady beat of his heart grounding you as the ache in your chest slowly began to ease. Felix didn’t let go, his arms wrapped around you with a desperation that spoke louder than any words he could say.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, his breath warm against your hair. “I didn’t mean any of it. I just… I messed up. I didn’t realize how much you’d been trying, and instead of supporting you, I let my own fears get in the way.”

You swallowed hard, the knot in your throat loosening with every word. “You really thought I didn’t need you anymore?”

He nodded, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was filled with regret, but there was something else there too—a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I got scared. You seemed so confident, so… happy on your own. And I thought maybe I was the only one who still needed us as much as I do.”

You shook your head, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaping your lips. “Felix, I need us. I always have. I just…” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I needed to know I could stand on my own too. Not because I don’t love you, but because I wanted to be better for you. For both of us.”

His expression softened, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “You are better, Y/N. You’re amazing. And I should have told you that instead of making you feel like… like this.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Felix was quick to catch it, his touch impossibly gentle. “I don’t think you realize how much I look up to you,” he said quietly. “You’ve been so strong, and I’m… I’m so proud of you. I hate that I made you second-guess yourself.”

His words cracked something open inside you, and you leaned into his hand, letting yourself feel the warmth and sincerity in his touch. “You mean that?” you asked softly.

“Every word,” he said, his voice firm but tender. “You’ve been so brave, Y/N. I see it. And I’ll spend every day reminding you how incredible you are if that’s what it takes to make up for tonight.”

For the first time that night, you felt the heaviness in your chest begin to lift. The sting of his earlier words lingered, but his apology—his love—was genuine.

You gave him a small, tentative smile. “You don’t have to make up for anything, Felix. Just… promise me we’ll talk next time, okay? No more letting things fester.”

He nodded quickly, his lips twitching into a faint, relieved smile. “I promise. I’ll do better. No more keeping things to myself. And no more calling you clingy. Ever.”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound breaking the tension in the room. “Good. Because that word is banned forever.”

“Forever,” Felix agreed, a playful light returning to his eyes. He shifted, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched. “You’re not clingy, Y/N. You’re perfect. Just the way you are.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment. For the first time in hours, you felt truly at ease.

Later that night, you found yourselves curled up on the couch, the tension of the evening a distant memory. Felix’s arms were wrapped around you, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm as the quiet hum of a movie played in the background.

“Y/N?” he murmured after a while, his voice soft and contemplative.

“Yeah?” you replied, tilting your head to look at him.

“I’m really lucky to have you,” he said, his cheeks turning pink as the words left his mouth.

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re not so bad yourself, Felix.”

He laughed softly, his lips brushing against your temple. “I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to,” you said gently, resting your hand over his. “We’ll figure it all out. Together.”

Felix’s arms tightened around you, his lips curving into a soft smile against your skin. “Together,” he echoed, and in that moment, you knew he meant it with every fiber of his being.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t questioning yourself. You weren’t doubting your place in his life or worrying about being too much. Felix’s love wrapped around you like a promise—a reassurance that you didn’t have to change to be enough.

@intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon

[myrruwrites]

A winters night.

. . . Caitlyn x Reader.

CW: SFW, a bit suggestive & references to sex briefly, but it’s mainly fluff. A bit of comfort (r!receiving). Caitlyn walks in on you baking her a surprise on your anniversary. :^)

WC: 1.06K | CC: 5.7K | Proofread: No.. | Notes: this is my first time writing a reader x character fic. One of my first times writing romance at all, actually. I normally write warrior cats. But I wanna branch out to my other interests, one of which is arcane. I hope you like it! | MEN DNI.

It’s starting to get late out, the sun setting. The kitchen’s dim candles are the only things leaving the room barley visible, although, you don’t go to turn the main light on. You’re much too busy for that. You’re working hard making a pie for your girlfriend, Caitlyn. It’s Apple and cinnamon, her favourite. It also happens to be the same dish you made her on your first date. You had worried you’d come onto her too hard, but much to your surprise, she was impressed.

While sprinkling the cinnamon onto the apple mixture, your mind can’t help but drift to Caitlyn. "I wonder what she’s doing right now?" you ask yourself. She’s still at work, you’re positive of that. At least you think you are. You shake your head slightly, as if it’d help you clear your mind. You have to finish the pie before she gets home, even if it’s the last thing you do.

You slowly mix the pie filling, folding it. As you do, you notice the time. "7:30.." you murmur, gulping. Caitlyn finishes work at 7:00 on Tuesdays, she’d be home soon. "Shit, shit, shit." you think to yourself, your breath strained. You try to press on, working harder, faster.

15 minuets later, as you’re beginning to plat the top-crust of the pie, you hear the front door creek open. Is Cait home already? She can’t be, you’re not ready. This isn’t how you had planned it. You were meant to present her with a slice of her favourite pie as she came home from work, snuggling up to her on the couch as you play a movie you both enjoy. This is not what was meant to happen, she wasn’t meant to be home yet. Had it been a Monday, Thursday, or even Friday, she’d be home at 9:00. You’d have more than enough time to finish your plan. But on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, you’re not so lucky.

Before you can start to panic, Caitlyn drops her bag off on the couch. She begins to slide off her uniform, and your gaze immediately begins to take in her curves. Her under-shirt rides up slightly, revealing the soft skin of her stomach. You feel almost sad as she pulls it back down, folding her uniform neatly as she hangs it up to wash later. You gulp, caught off-guard.

"Y/N, you home?" Caitlyn calls out, due to you not greeting her. Suddenly, you realise you hadn’t even said hello. You yell out quickly, almost shakily "I’m in the kitchen! Welcome home, honey!". How hadn’t you done that when she first walked in? You always do. Well.. you know why. You remember the sight seeing you did earlier. How could you not? The way her shirt clung to her body..

Your thoughts are cut off as she walks into the kitchen, she reaches for her ponytail, undoing it. Her eyebrow tilts as she realises you’re baking, a soft grin forming on her face. "What’re you making?" She asks, walking up to you. Her arm wraps around your waist, her hair brushing against your neck. "What do you think it is?" You tease, looking down at the pie. Caitlyn scoffs slightly, before tugging your waist slightly, pulling you against her. "Is it really the pie?". Her phrasing makes you giggle slightly, your hand reaching to cover your mouth. As you do so, her hand meets yours, moving it away from your lips. "Now, don’t go covering such a pretty sight."

The air practically became thicker, a slight blush creeping up your neck. She breaks the silence with a quick peck on the lips, as you lean into it you feel it deepen. Suddenly, you break away from the kiss. "I have to finish baking. How about we.. continue this after?" You explain to her about wanting the pie to be done earlier, but forgot to makeup for her early finish from work. She reaches to cup your cheek, turning you to face her. Her thumb strokes close to your lips. "It’s a sweet gesture, don’t upset yourself."

You smile softly, noticing the sincerity in her eyes. She’s really not mad. You start to think about it, why would you assume she’d be mad in the first place? Caitlyn has always been sweet to you, always patient. You kiss her softly, before quickly turning back around, hiding the stunned look on your face. She lets out a small laugh, her hand still resting on your waist. She watches with awe as you bake, "I’m so glad you can cook, because I sure as hell can’t. Thank you for this, by the way."

You don’t turn to face her while replying, clearly still engrossed in baking, "I was planning to make something, it’s our anniversary after all. And the thought of pie reminded me of you." you admit with a smile. "Well isn’t that cute," she nudges your hip, before releasing it. "Let me help you with that." she moves to the side of you, gently taking the pie out of your hands. She bends down by the oven, putting it in with a smile before turning to you, "there, now I can have your full attention."

As the night wares on, you watch a movie with Caitlyn. It’s Scream, a shared favourite. You still flinch every time at the jumpscares, your nails digging into Caitlyn’s shirt. Her arms drape around you before pulling you closer. "Scaredy-cat, huh?", she teases. It causes you to smile slightly, amused by her tone. For the rest of the movie, you cling to her tighter. She mocks you for it, but you can tell she secretly loves having you in her arms. She plants a kiss on your forehead, holding you closer than ever. You start to wonder, would tonight be the night? The night you two finally.. you know. You shake your head, burying it in her neck as the next jumpscare hits. As time passes, your eyes begin to feel droopy, and you can’t help but think you could stay like this forever. Your body begins to relax into Caitlyn’s touch, her hand stroking your hair. She smiles softly at you as you begin to fall asleep, your eyes fluttering to a close.

Maybe another time. Tonight, you just want to be held, and she just wants to show you how much she cares for you.

© myrruwrites.

I hope you liked ittt.. its my first time posting my writing. If you do like it, feel free to request! I really wanna write more, it’s something I really enjoy. I wasn’t quite sure where to end this fic, and I would’ve made it longer, honestly I don’t know why I didn’t. I can always make a PT2 if anyone’s interested. Thank you for reading! Reblogs & likes are appreciated.

[dreamdragonkadia]

p.jackson x reader

You weren’t sure when exactly Percy started calling you “love.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true. You could pinpoint the first time he said it, but when it became his default for you? That was harder to place. If anyone asked Percy what he found most exciting about being in a relationship, he'd grin and say, "The nicknames, obviously." And oh, did he try plenty.

It started with the classics. “Babe” lasted for a solid few months. You’d hear it at random moments—whether he was tossing you a can of soda during a movie marathon or tugging you into a last-minute hug before a quest. But one day, as he passed you a granola bar while training, he made a face. "You deserve better than 'babe,'" he’d declared, like it was some sort of grand epiphany. “Too generic. You’re… you’re you.”

And so began Percy’s experimentation phase.

“Princess” made its debut during a campfire. You’d rolled your eyes at him, calling it “cheesy,” but he insisted it suited you. “Come on, it’s perfect. You’re badass enough to take on a cyclops but still fancy enough to deserve a tiara.” It stuck, kind of, but only when he was in an especially playful mood.

Then came “Beautiful.” It wasn’t anything special at first, just something he blurted one morning while handing you a plate of pancakes. But the way his face turned pink when he realized what he’d said made it impossible for you to tease him about it. That one lingered, though it was mostly reserved for quiet moments—soft whispers when the world felt like too much or murmurs as he held your hand under the stars.

But “Sweetheart”? That one had a purpose. It was Percy’s go-to for calming you down, for reminding you to breathe when your ADHD made the world spin too fast or when the stress of demigod life crept in. “Sweetheart,” he’d say, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “We’ve got this. I’ve got you.”

Then came “love.” And oh, did that one stick. You remember the first time he said it like it was yesterday. You’d been on a date, the rare kind where monsters weren’t interrupting and the world wasn’t crashing down on your shoulders. Somewhere along the night, the heel of your shoe broke. Classic demigod luck. Percy, being ever the gentleman, crouched down in the middle of the street without hesitation. His fingers were deft as he worked, steadying the broken strap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hold still,” he muttered, his warm hands brushing against your ankle as you wobbled slightly. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders for balance, and he glanced up at you with that crooked smile you loved so much.

When he finished, he pressed a kiss to your thigh, his lips lingering for just a second. “There you go, love,” he said, his voice soft, intimate in a way that made your chest feel tight and warm all at once.

You blinked down at him, heart pounding a little faster. It wasn’t the word itself that got to you—it was how he said it. Casual, like it had always been yours, but with an undercurrent of something so deep it nearly knocked the breath out of you.

Since then, it’s stuck, weaving itself seamlessly into your lives. He’ll toss it out when you least expect it—“What do you want for dinner, love?” or “Careful, love, that monster looks meaner than usual.” And every time he says it, your stomach does a little flip.

Because Percy Jackson doesn’t just say “love” like it’s a word. He says it like it’s a promise.

[littlemissaddict]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Nurse!Reader

Merry Christmas everyone 🎄 had this stuck in my head for a little while and it's took even longer to write. Slightly jealous ghost if you squint.

All the nurses knew as soon as they saw Ghost enter the Medics station on base that there was only one nurse he'd see. Some of the long term staff who treated his injuries before she'd arrived on base were thankful they didn't have to work through the glowering stare, the gruff grunts and all-around hardship he'd made there job of tending to him. In fact it was a hardship in itself just convincing him to see a base nurse.

With her though he was different, he sat willing while she tended to his wounds and they've even seen him sit for an hour after arriving back from one deployment so that she was the one to see to him despite other nurses being free.

No one knew why he favoured her and if anyone asked him he would never admit the real reason he took a liking to her was because she snapped at him on their first meeting. He was so used to the other nurses tip toeing around his large form and intimidating presence but she was different, becoming annoyed with his constant squirming as she tried to stitch the cut along his shoulder, that she didn't ever care to ask how he'd gotten.

"Stop moving so I can finish this and get you out of my sight"

If anyone else had said it, he'd have had something to say about it but with her stood there, tiny form next to him with teeth gritted and eyebrows set into a deep frown then he knew that she was different to the other nurses and that he liked. Hence the reason she'd become the only one he'd see.

Since that first meeting though he'd become a lot easier to handle and she hadn't had to snap at him anymore. In fact there was a little more joking around between the two of them.

"You're hurt, why are you always hurt?" She fussed coming back to her station to find him sat on the bed.

"S'my job" he grumbles, surrendering to her soft touch as she inspects his arm.

With a sigh, she turns her head to look up at him, "If it was your job, then wouldn't I see the rest of your unit just as much as I see you?" She phrases it as a question but they both know it doesn't require an answer. "Hell I don't even seen Johnny as much as I see you" She adds, as Johnny maybe a soldier but he's a clumsy fucker sometimes.

At the mention of Johnny's name, Simon tenses, he's a little hurt even though he knows he shouldn't be, but she's never once called him Simon. It's always Ghost or Lt. Yet she's casually dropping Johnny's name as though she always calls him that instead of Soap or sergeant.

She mistakes his tensing for pain in his arm instead of what it is and she let's go of him as he grumbles out, "Simon"

"Sorry?" She replies not sure if she'd quite heard what he said correctly.

"Call me Simon" his voice is as gruff as usual but she could be mistaken when she hears the hint of pleading in his tone.

"Okay but you gotta do one thing for me in return" she's teasing, she'll call him Simon if that's what he wants regardless, but this constantly getting hurt has to stop so maybe she's going to abuse the power she has over him in this moment but it's with his best interest at heart. Simon nods once, slowly before she continues, "You have to stop being so reckless, I know you have a dangerous job, but at least try not to get injured"

Simon sits and stares at her for a minute or so as if considering her words, he is really because not getting injured means he can't come down to medical and that means he won't get to see her as often but getting to hear her call his name is the desire that's currently outweighing everything else. "Fine" he huffs as if she's asking the hardest thing in the world from him.

"Good, now, let's get this arm sorted." She smiles, turning away from him to gather the equipment she needs. It takes her practiced hands barely anytime at all to complete the task at hand and Simon almost resents her for how quickly she works as now he has to leave her.

He thanks her with a grunt as he stands from the medical bed but she stops him before he leaves, "Simon" his name finally drips from her lips like honey and he's putty in her hands, he's very thankful for the mask right now so that she can't see the colour spreading across his cheeks. "You know you don't have to get hurt to come see me, I do enjoy your company" she reveals and he nods, unable to speak.

Oh but when he thinks about it later on when he's alone in his bunk, he realises she doesn't know what she's let herself in for as he plans to be by her side whenever he gets any free time on base.

[jinniejjam]

Lonely Wine

✎ Mean Neighbor!Lee Know x Lonely Afab!Reader

✎ Christmas AU, Emotional, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, 18+ MDNI! NSFW, Mutual Pining, Smut, Mistletoe Trope, Romantic Ending.

✎ 3.4k

✎ Synopsis: you find yourself feeling alone and distant, lost in your own thoughts. Your annoying neighbor, Lee Minho, crosses your path, and the exchange between you is far from pleasant. But then, to your surprise, he apologizes. As the holiday season continues, the walls between you begin to crumble, and you start to realize that even the most unexpected neighbors can bring warmth and connection when you least expect it.

A/n : hii y'all! I bring the christmas fanfic for today, hope you enjoy the story and also Merry Christmas! I hope warmth found u^^

—Bae

The air was cold, sharp against your skin as you leaned on the edge of your window, a half-empty glass of wine in your hand. Christmas Eve had always been a hollow affair for you, a reminder of what you didn’t have.

Your family wasn’t just complicated—it was fractured, splintered beyond repair. Your parents had divorced years ago, both quickly moving on to build new families, leaving you somewhere in the middle. No one outright abandoned you, but no one fought for you either. Holidays became a game of polite invitations and shallow smiles, and eventually, you stopped trying to belong anywhere.

You finished the wine faster than you intended, the warmth in your chest doing little to ease the ache. The sound of distant laughter and carols drifted in through the window, each note a cruel reminder of what this night was supposed to be.

When you realized your stock of wine was gone, you sighed and grabbed your coat. A trip to the store would be better than sitting alone with your thoughts.

The grocery store was mostly empty, its fluorescent lights buzzing softly. You wandered the aisles, the sight of festive decorations and holiday discounts doing nothing to lift your spirits. Three bottles of wine went into your basket—too much for one night, maybe, but you didn’t care.

By the time you returned to your building, your arms were aching from the weight of the bottles. You stepped into the elevator, letting out a breath as the doors closed.

But they didn’t close fast enough.

“Hold it!” a familiar voice called, and your stomach dropped as Lee Minho slid in just before the doors shut.

Of course. Out of all the people in this building, it had to be him.

Lee Minho, your annoying salty neighbor who had been a thorn of your peacefull life in this building, you're not sure how and when it started, but every encounter with him always feels like a war somehow, well its maybe begin from the very first you moved in to this building.

Flashback

The new apartment smelled like fresh paint and floor polish. You sat on your worn couch, staring at the boxes still stacked in chaotic clusters, a sigh escaping your lips. Starting over wasn’t easy. The stress of work and the pressures of life had already begun weighing down on you, but you were determined to make this new chapter as bright as possible.

After a long debate, you decided to bake cookies for your neighbors as a peace offering—a way to establish yourself in the building. A sense of community might help ease the loneliness. Armed with a plate of warm cookies, you stepped out of your door, knocking at the unit beside yours.

It swung open sharply.

The man who stood before you was breathtakingly gorgeous, but his expression was nothing short of murderous. His dark, sharp eyes narrowed in annoyance, his jawline so sharp you could swear it could cut glass.

“Yes?” His voice was flat, unwelcoming.

“Oh, hi! I just moved in next door. I made cookies and thought I’d introduce myself!” you said, holding the plate out with a smile.

He stared at the cookies like they were contaminated.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” His tone was curt. Without another word, he shut the door.

You blinked, stunned. What the hell was that?

Or that one time when he complained, saying that you're being loud just 3 days right after you moved in.

The next few days after moving in filled with unpacking, arranging furniture, and trying to settle into your new place. It was exhausting, and by the weekend, you decided to reward yourself with a relaxing night—some wine, your favorite playlist, and a bubble bath.

The music was soft, barely above a whisper, but as you swayed along while unpacking some remaining boxes, a sudden knock startled you. It wasn’t just a polite tap; it was loud, deliberate, and aggressive.

You frowned as you opened the door, only to find yourself face-to-face with your grumpy neighbor. Lee Minho stood there, arms crossed, his dark eyes glaring down at you like you were the source of all his problems.

“Seriously?” he snapped.

“What?” you asked, taken aback.

“The music,” he said. “Some of us are trying to sleep, and your constant noise is making it impossible.”

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s barely 9 PM.”

“And? Some people have early mornings,” he replied. “Unlike you, apparently.”

You folded your arms. “Excuse me, but I’m not exactly throwing a party over here. The music is quiet enough that I can barely hear it myself. Maybe the problem isn’t me; maybe it’s you.”

His jaw tightened. “Oh, so now I’m the problem?”

“Kind of, yeah,” you shot back. “Maybe you should consider moving to a remote cabin in the woods if you hate hearing other people so much.”

The tension between you crackled like static. He exhaled sharply, clearly deciding you weren’t worth more of his time.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Just keep it down.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked back to his apartment, leaving you fuming in the doorway.

You think that was the moment the gloves came off. From then on, the two of you clashed at every opportunity—snarky comments in the elevator, icy glares in the hallway, and a mounting frustration that turned into outright hostility.

Back to present time, he leaned casually against the cold wall of the elevator, his sharp eyes scanning the bottles in your arms. His smirk was almost immediate.

“Three bottles?” he quipped, tilting his head. “For one person? What is this, a pity party?”

You didn’t respond, staring straight ahead and hoping he’d shut up.

But Minho wasn’t done. “What? Are you that lonely? Not even a family to spend Christmas with?”

His words hit like a gut punch, sharp and uncalled for. Your fingers tightened around the bag handles as you turned to glare at him.

“Yeah, keep talking, Lee. I’m sure your perfect little life makes all of this just so much better,” you shot back, your voice trembling but laced with bitterness.

Minho blinked, taken aback. He had expected you to snap back, to fight him with the same sarcastic edge you always did. Instead, he saw the hurt in your eyes, the raw emotion you’d been trying so hard to hide. His stomach twisted in regret, realizing too late that he had pushed the wrong button this time. The smug expression he wore faltered, guilt creeping in as he watched you turn away right after the elevator door opened.

Once inside your apartment, the weight of his words finally crashed down on you. You set the bottles on the counter, your hands trembling.

Not even a family.

It wasn’t just an insult—it was the truth. Your parents had their own lives, their own families, and you were nothing more than a reminder of their failed marriage. Christmas had become a painful routine: fake smiles, awkward dinners, and feeling like an outsider in both of their homes. This year, you hadn’t even bothered to show up.

Tears welled in your eyes as you uncorked one of the bottles. The first sip burned your throat, but you didn’t stop. With each gulp, you tried to drown the ache, to silence the doubts and regrets swirling in your mind.

But the wine didn’t help. Instead, it magnified everything.

The tears spilled over, hot and relentless, as the weight of the night pressed harder on you. You sank onto the couch, clutching the bottle like it was your lifeline. The sound of distant carols and laughter seeped in through the thin walls, each note a cruel reminder of what you didn’t have.

A knock at the door made you freeze.

“Who’s there?” you called, your voice hoarse.

“It’s me.”

Minho.

Your chest tightened. The last person you wanted to see right now was him.

“Go away!” you shouted, wiping at your tear-streaked face.

But he didn’t leave.

“I need to apologize,” he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You clenched your jaw, anger and humiliation swirling inside you. “I don’t need your pity, Minho. Just leave me alone.”

But his voice came again, insistent. “Please. I shouldn’t have said that. It was out of line.”

Something about the raw sincerity in his tone gave you pause. Slowly, you stood and walked to the door, hesitating before unlocking it.

When you opened it, Minho was leaning against the frame, his usual smirk replaced by something almost apologetic. His eyes flickered to your puffy, tear-streaked face, and his jaw tightened.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why do you care?”

Minho hesitated, his gaze softening. “Because I know what it’s like to be alone on Christmas.”

The admission caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at him.

“I’m serious,” he added, his voice quieter now. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I was being an ass, and—"

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache. Before you knew it, you were crying again, the weight of the evening too much to hold back.

Minho stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “—Hey,” he murmured. “It’s okay.”

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him. He hesitated for only a moment before wrapping his arms around you, holding you tightly. The warmth of his embrace broke something inside you, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you afloat.

Minho held you close, his arms steady and sure, like he was the only anchor keeping you from falling apart. The quiet between you was heavy but not uncomfortable; his presence alone was enough to steady your trembling breaths. His hand moved gently up and down your back, offering a kind of comfort you hadn’t realized you craved.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into his chest, your voice muffled.

“For what?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“For being a mess.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes softened as they searched yours, and for the first time, you saw something other than irritation or smugness—something tender.

“You’re not a mess,” he murmured. “You’re human.”

The sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten, and before you could think twice, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his shoulder, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne.

“Come on,” he said gently, his hands steadying you as he guided you toward the couch. “Sit down. Let me help.”

He left briefly, and you heard the soft clink of glasses. When he returned, he handed you a glass of water and a blanket, sitting beside you with a closeness that felt intentional.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said, your voice still fragile.

“I wanted to.” His reply was simple, but his tone carried weight.

The room was quiet as you sipped the water, his eyes never leaving you. The soft glow of the Christmas lights from your small tree cast warm shadows across his face, making him look softer, more vulnerable.

“You’re different tonight,” you said softly, daring to glance at him.

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners. “So are you.”

The silence stretched again, but this time it was charged, buzzing with something unspoken.

“Minho,” you began, your voice hesitant, but he interrupted you by reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for just a moment too long, making heat creeping to your cheeks, redish hue appear within a second.

“You deserve better than this,” he said quietly.

You blinked at him, startled. “What do you mean?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely at your apartment, the wine bottles on the counter, the loneliness hanging in the air. “Being alone on Christmas. Feeling like you don’t have anyone. You deserve someone who cares.”

The vulnerability in his voice stunned you.

“Do you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Care, I mean?”

His eyes darkened slightly as they locked onto yours. “More than I should.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The space between you seemed to shrink as the tension thickened. He reached out, his hand cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low, his gaze flickering to your lips.

But you didn’t want him to stop.

Instead of answering, you leaned forward, closing the gap between you. Your lips met his in a kiss that was hesitant at first, testing the waters, but quickly deepened as you both gave in to the pull that had been simmering between you for weeks.

Minho’s hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as you shifted onto his lap. His lips were soft but insistent, exploring yours with a passion that sent a shiver down your spine. Your fingers tangled in his hair, eliciting a low sound from him that made your stomach flip.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his breath warm against your lips as he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, your heart pounding. “Yes.”

He kissed you again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every second. He stood, carrying you effortlessly toward your bedroom, his movements careful and intentional.

Once inside, he laid you gently on the bed, his hands brushing over your skin like he was memorizing every inch of you. The way he looked at you—like you were something precious—made your chest tighten.

His touch was both tender and consuming, each kiss and caress unraveling the stress and pain that had been weighing you down for so long. The intimacy of it all made your heart ache in the best way.

It wasn’t just about the physical connection—it was about the way he held you, the way he whispered your name like it was sacred, the way he made you feel seen, cherished.

His lips moved to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You shivered, your body responding to his touch even before you could think. Minho’s hands caressed the curves of your body, each movement slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every inch of you. His touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting something inside of you that had been dormant for far too long.

"Minho..." You whispered his name, your voice trembling as your fingers slid to the waistband of his pants, grabing his clothed cock making him groan from the contact.

"Fuck, Princess."

He kissed you again, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that made your pulse spike. You felt his body pressing against yours, his muscles flexing as he leaned into you. His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, his hands sliding down your sides, pulling you closer to him until you could feel the heat of his body, hands trailing to tug on your sweater, getting rid of it in a swift motion, leaving you in your black lacy bra.

When he pulled away for just a second, his dark eyes searched yours, his chest rising and falling with each breath. "You're so beautiful” he said, his voice low and raspy, full of an almost dangerous edge.

He squeze your tits from outside of your bra, your body aching for him in a way you couldn’t deny. "Minh, please.”

With a growl, he kissed you again, his hands rough as they worked quickly to remove the last remnants of your clothes. You felt the heat of his skin against yours, his fingertips trailing down the curve of your spine before they slid to your hips, pulling you closer as his mouth moved over your collarbone, his kisses becoming more desperate.

Every kiss he gave, every movement of his hands, felt like it was igniting something inside of you, a need that you hadn’t realized had been building up for so long. You moaned softly, your hands running over his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath your fingertips.

He responded with a groan of his own, his mouth returning to yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. The air between you grew thick with desire, the tension so palpable you could hardly breathe. His hands moved to your back, gently pushing you back onto the bed, his body following you, never breaking the connection.

As he hovered over you, his lips brushing against your ear, he whispered, “I want you, all of you.”

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks as his words sank in, the meaning behind them making your heart race even faster. “Then take me,” you responded, your voice low and demanding, feeling a surge of confidence you hadn’t known you had.

Without another word, Minho moved over you, his hands and lips tracing the line of your body with a sense of urgency, like he couldn’t wait any longer. He drag his waist band You felt the pressure of his body against yours, he run his heavy cock along your folds, squelching sound coming from the contact signing how wet you are already, "Holly fuck baby, do you hear that? Mmh all wet for me" he said, still teasing your drench cunt. The heat between you both becoming almost unbearable.

Minho finally align his tip to your enterance, pushing it in to your clenching hole, earning a trail of moan from both of you.

"Ahh minhh," Your fingers dug into his back, urging him on as you kissed him with the same urgency, your body moving against his in rhythm.

His movements grew faster, more desperate, as he sought to claim you in the way that only he could. You could feel every inch of him as he slid deeper, the sensation of him filling you making you gasp with pleasure. Your hands moved to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as your body trembled beneath him.

"Minho mmh," his name slipped from your lips in a soft, breathless cry, and the sound of it seemed to drive him wild. He growled low in his throat, his hips snapping against yours with a relentless intensity. You met him with every thrust, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control, the pleasure building, escalating with each movement.

"Minho... fuckh you're gonna make me cumhh," you gasped, the heat of your bodies colliding with an intensity that took your breath away.

He groaned, his name slipping from your lips in a way that made his pulse quicken. The sound of your voice, the way you were calling out for him, drove him to the edge. He leaned down, kissing you deeply, his tongue claiming yours in a dance that matched the rhythm of your bodies.

"Cum for me kitten, cum" he said, hips pistoning to hit the certain spot that makes you see the stars.

As the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, you felt the tension inside of you snap, "Minhh ahh FUCK," your body convulsing in waves of ecstasy.

"Fuck, fuck fuck shit baby s'goodh mmhh" Minho followed you over the edge, his body trembling as he gave in to the moment, his own release consuming him.

You both lay there, breathless and tangled in each other's arms, your bodies still pressed together, the warmth of his skin against yours grounding you in the reality of the moment. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Minho’s hand moved to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned down to kiss you gently, the softness of the kiss in stark contrast to the fiery intensity of what had just happened.

“I care about you,” he murmured, his lips brushing over yours once more. “More than you know.”

You looked up at him, the vulnerability in your chest now replaced with something deeper, something stronger. You smiled softly, your hands running over his back, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

"I care about you too," you whispered, your voice full of quiet certainty.

And as the two of you lay together, tangled in the aftermath, you realized that this wasn’t just a night of passion. It was a turning point—one that would change everything between you. It was the beginning of something real, something lasting, and for the first time in a long time, you felt at home.

Make a brief synopsis for this story

[cuntphoric]

a/n; happy holidays everyone, love all of you guys <3 they're gonna get little elves soon, !!not proofread well enough

ah yes, that time of the year. christmas. one of your main favorite holidays!

the crackling fire casting a golden glow on everything.. outside, the snow falls gently - kids are probably making snowmen and sledding, maybe even having a snowball fight.. but inside, there's only heat, heat between the two of you.

gojo stands in front of you, wearing his santa suit - his suit is snug and tailored, a red velvet jacket with white fur trimmed, a black belt with a silver buckle, matching red pants that hug him just right - paired with black slacks, and last but not least, the tilt of the santa hat perched on his snowy hair.

as he eyes you in your own very hot ms. claus fit - your fit is just straight up sexy, tight red velvet that hugs your tits, trimmed with white fur along the neckline and hem. the skirt is short, barely brushing your mid thigh that just adds to your hotness, the lace up corset detail cinches your waist perfectly, red thigh high stockings - paired with short, red heels, and of course, a little santa hat that completes the look!

your eyes wander, lingering on the way the red clings to his thighs before snapping up to his face when he calls out your name. oops, got caught..

"y/n! caught you staring," he takes one step!

“shut up,” you mutter, shifting on your heels. he takes two steps!

"hmm- nah!" he chuckles, one hand on his right hip. he takes three steps!

score! three steps in - now he's holding something above your head with two fingers, the small green leaves and the mix of red and white berries swaying with each swing.

"under the mistletoe!!" he exclaimed out happily, looking down at your figure, "well what happens now? huh?"

you roll your eyes, a smirk curling up at your lips. "a kiss," you sigh out, faking annoyance—

before you can react once more, he grabs your wrist, tugging you close. and in an instant, his lips are on yours, quick but soft - his lips are everything. your body immediately melts into him, your lips responding to his. his hands slip around your waist, pulling you flush against him. the fire crackles in the room, making it warmer.

all you can focus on is him—his lips, his hands, the way he feels against you.

once he pulled away, he rubs his hands on your back. "listen! i'm sorry for eating the cookies but in my defense- i am literally santa-" he pouts.

you really try to ignore the flutter in your stomach, but you can't.

"i still-" you start to speak, but before you can finish, gojo's kissing you again, this time more urgently. his lips are on yours, his hands moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, pressing you against him. the firelight dances across in the background, casting lighter shadows on your features.

your hands move on their own, tugging at the front of his santa suit, needing to feel more of him. the moment his jacket is off, his bare chest presses against yours, and your skin tingles at the touch. he groans against your mouth, and you feel the tension between you both snap. he's already lifting you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he walks you toward the rug by the fire. his lips don’t leave yours for even a second as he lays you down, his body hovering over you. you're trapped beneath him, the heat of the fire warming your skin, but the heat from gojo is so much more different.

his hands slide beneath your costume, tugging at it until you needed to shrug the rest off, exposing you completely to him. you gasp when his hands trail over your skin - his lips move lower, kissing a trail down your neck, over your chest, making you arch into him when he goes particularly rough on one spot.

"you look so perfect," gojo growls out, "yeah? y'know that right?" his voice rough with hunger. his hands slide between your legs, and you seriously can't stop the moan that slips from your lips as his fingers tease you. his mouth trails lower, kissing and biting at your skin, driving you insane with hornyness and need.

"toru.." you breathe out, that was one of the few things you've said this entire time! ..probably too entranced in him touching made your brain fuzzy from the start and that's completely normal. your hands started to grab at him, tugging him closer. you want him, need him. your body aches for him, and you feel the wetness in your core start to grow.

and of course he can tell - he doesn’t waste time, pushing you down onto the rug, his body pressing against yours, his lips finding the curve of your neck as he lines himself up behind you.

before you can even process it, he flips you so you're easily folded—he's got you locked in the most perfect mating press known to mankind, your legs folded up to your chest, pinned tightly under his strong hands as he thrusts deeper, more relentlessly. every inch of your body is held firm, trapped beneath him, unable to move, unable to escape the overwhelming pleasure he's giving you.

"merry christmas, baby," he whispers against your skin, and then he's inside you, filling you completely. your breath hitches as he thrusts into you, the pace slow at first, but quickly turning desperate and quick. goodness you were seeing stars - or maybe the twelve reindeer's on santa's sleigh..

whatever it is, you know he isn't holding back, because with every thrust, he drives deeper. his hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you back against him as he rocks into you harder, faster. the sound of skin against skin mixes with the crackling of the fire, and all you can focus on is the way gojo's body moves against yours, the way he makes you feel. and it is good - perhaps even jolly?

his breath is ragged, his hands tight on your body as he has you take everything he gives. "so good," he groans, voice rough. "you feel so good."

you feel your breath catch as he thrusts deeper, his santa hat falling onto your stomach before he quickly brushes it away. he continued to hit that spot that made your toes curl and your nails dig into his shoulders, making crescent shaped marks in his skin.

"f-fuck, toru..!" you gasp, your voice shaky as he sets an unrelenting pace, his lips parted in concentration.. "slow down, i—"

gojo, ever the annoying, cut you off with a low chuckle, leaning in to press his lips to your ear. "what's wrong, baby? too much for you?" his voice was so cocky, but the way his hips snap forward says otherwise.

"i swear to god—" you start to say, but a particularly deep thrust steals your words, making you whimper instead.

"swear to santa," he corrects with a smirk, clearly pleased with himself. his hands shift, gripping your thighs tighter as he angles himself just right, drawing another loud moan from you.

"toru!" you wanted to roll your eyes but you knew you couldn't, since it'll instead make you accidentally roll your eyes back. "oh—r-right there."

his breath is heavy, uneven now, but the way he praises you.. god. "so good for me," he murmurs, his words almost reverent as his hips twitch, each pulse of his cock making you feel like you're drowning in him. "took me so well, just like that, yeah? such a sweet girl."

"toru, i—i'm gonna—" your sentence trails off into a whimper as the tension in your body coils tighter, ready to finish.

"cum for me, yeah? let me feel it- be a good girl f'me," he groans, his voice dropping an octave lower.

your vision goes white as your body arches against him, your release hitting you hard. you cry out his name, your walls clenching around him as waves of pleasure wash over you.

his cock still pulses inside you, the heat of cum making your body shiver, and you can hear his soft voice right by your ear, low and rough, whispering praise after praise, "good job, you did so well.. fuck, you're so tight.. perfect for me."

you manage to catch your breath just as he shudders above you, his hips stuttering as he cums in you next. his grip on your thighs tightens as he grinds into you one last time, before he fills you up completely.

"merry christmas to me," he murmurs, his voice breathless but still teasing.

okay- what. you can't help but laugh softly, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. "yeah, merry christmas to me too.."

[x-gabrielle-x]

Tides Of Survival | 1

Pairings: Finnick Odair x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death, (eventual) smut, mentions of forced prostitution.

Summary: The white swan of the Capitol; gracious, elegant, and innocent. You catch many of the Capitol's attention in your games, whether that was due to your agility, cleverness, or looks in all, even managing to capture the gaze of your young mentor and old friend, Finnick Odair.

Series Masterlist | Pinterest Board

Although most days in District Four were hot, today was definitely one of the most. The sun blared down on your back and sweat lined your forehead, creased with dedication and concentration. You swore that if it were to get any hotter than this, your skin might as well be melting off.

The breeze did little to cool you down, the wind hitting your face as your fingers worked at the knots in your aching hands. You could conclude now that you were miserable at knot tying.

Frowning, your smaller hands lifting the mess of a rope up to your father's gaze, you called him.

"I still can't do it, Pa" you whined, gaze trained on him as his fingers worked effortlessly at his now half-finished net.

He glanced down, brown eyes flicking between you and the disaster held tightly in your smaller grip. He smiled, though his fingers remained at his work.

"You'll get it, Princess. You've only been practicing for a few hours," he tried, but you were determined.

"All the kids at school can make them now, I don't want to be left out." Twisting the rope between your hands, you undid the poor knot before aimlessly placing it down on the wooden work bench, fingers raw from the rough material.

He hummed, picking up a weight that laid off to his right and tying it to his work. "Sometimes it's just harder for others to learn. Thats why we practice, so that we become better."

You huffed when he turned away, though you weren’t able to avert your gaze from his hands. They worked effortlessly with the small rope, weaving and pulling into patterns. Though District Four was full of different kinds and styles of nets and knots, your fathers were some of their proudest works.

"How about this," he started, eyeing you at his side as you sat atop the table boredly, legs kicking back and forth. "When we get home, I have some old rope in my bedroom. We can practice together when I'm off work. Does that sound good?" He asked, and like a switch your smile was gleaming back up at him.

He laughed, a solemn look flashing over his features when he went to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "You smile just like your ma, Princess." He pressed a quick kiss to your head.

Whilst he continued his work, you allowed for your gaze to wonder. The docks of District Four were crowded with workers; some actively catching a variety of fish and others weaving and knotting nets at the benches like your father. The air lingered the smell of salt and seaweed with every crash of the waves against the shore. The heat blaring down at you made you ache for the feeling of the cool water surrounding your body, and you watched on as sunlight danced across the water like ribbons of gold, as if taunting you to give in.

"How much longer?" You asked. The sun had yet to set, and you knew that would mean a few hours at the least.

Your father let out a breath, and you didn't miss the way his hands trembled and flexed with exhaustion. "Still got a few hours, Hun. I need to go and grab something off Matt, so stay put here, alright?"

Once you nodded, he was already walking a few tables down and disappearing into the crowd of people. Now alone, your gaze caught onto the rope beside you, fingers etching out to grab the rough material when a voice piped up from behind you.

"Maybe I can help you."

You turned, startles to see a young boy stood behind you. You recognized him as one of the boys from the year above you, though you didn't remember his name. His sun-bleached blonde hair was pushed around from the salty ocean breeze, and his green eyes sparkled with mischief. He stood with a certain confidence that you admired, his gaze trained on the untied knot at your side.

You hummed in question, and seeing your confusion he picked up the rope you had previously discarded, twirling it in his palm as if he was dissecting it.

"I've already tried," you told him, though you were quite embarrassed admitting it. A District Four girl couldn't even tie her own net.

He raised a brow. "Can you tie shoelaces?"

Taken aback, you frowned at him, slightly offended. "Yes, I can tie shoes. I'm not that bad."

"Can you tie any knots?"

"Only a few my Pa taught me."

His lips quirked into a grin. "Great! Then you won't have a problem."

He handed you the rope before fishing around in a nearby crate of ropes. Finding what he was looking for, he turned to you and set the rope out flat.

"All you need to do it watch carefully, and if you're stuck ill help you."

You didn't answer, only watching as he slowly began to explain to you between weaving and pulling. He kept it at a slow pace so that you were able to follow along easily, and though you messed up a few times, he was quick to correct you. Your movements were hesitant and slow as you tied your knot, and you noticed Finnick pause at your side.

"You know," he began. "You make fumbling around look kind of fancy."

You wrinkled your nose into a scowl. "Thats not a compliment."

He laughed, and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye. "I promise it is," he said.

A pause.

"What's your name?" He had asked, watching you closely. He noticed that you barely were watching him work now, instead getting the hang of the knots yourself.

You glanced at him, smiling brightly. "Y/N."

He nodded. "I'm Finnick."

After some time, you couldn't help but to smile down at the finished net in your hands. It was only small and still poorly done, but it was better. Better than any progress you'd made so far. You held it up to Finnick, gleaming brightly.

"See? You did it!" Finnick smiled, though he let out a small laugh when you eyed the net wearily with a grimace. "Not bad for somebody who can't tie shoelaces."

You shot him a look, though the corner of your lip tilted into a smile. "I told you I could tie laces?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Just better now."

You lifted the net so that it was eye level with the both of you. Some of the knots were better than others, and half the net hung lower than the other, but nevertheless it was yours.

"Should we test it?" Finnick questioned, and you eagerly nodded and jumped off the bench.

The planks creaked beneath your feet as you ran to the end of the deck, Finnick hot on your trail. The net was practically tangled around your arms, and you shrugged it off with excitement, gazing down at the water below. You noticed some of the Peacekeepers leant up against the wooden railing, and though their helmets concealed their expressions, you knew they were watching. They always were.

"Let's hope your throwing is better than your net making," Finnick joked, but you ignored him, finally getting the newly made net untangled and throwing it as far out into the water as you could.

"Imagine how good I'll be in a few weeks," you thought, but Finnick was quick to nudge you.

"Not ever as good as me, though."

You opened your mouth to retort but were cut off by a gasp when a splash in the water caught your attention. Finnick helped to pull your net back up onto the doc, the both of you noticing it had come back empty.

"I definitely saw something," you murmured, though there was no upset in your tone. You were eying the net carefully, gaze practically burning.

Finnick shrugged. "Next time, we can make the-"

"Wait!" You suddenly squealed, digging around into the wet net. It was then that Finnick realized the subtle movements from under one corner of the net. You dug around, hand finally clasping around the fish.

"I got one!" The words caught in your throat with excitement, and you watched entranced by the scales of the fish that shimmered like treasure. Perhaps it was treasure to you.

The moment was short lived when the fish in its mighty attempt flapped its fins, slipping from your grasp and falling back into the water. Finnick was prepared to assure you that you could always try again, but when you turned to him, bright smile on your face, he swore he'd never seen anybody happier. Your smile was contagious to him.

"I caught a fish in my own net!" You jumped up and down, and you noticed your father back at the work bench from the distance. You turned to Finnick, E/C eyes sparkling with pride. "Next time we will catch more fish together." It was a promise.

"Thank you, Finnick," you gleamed, before running back to your father with the soaking net, telling him about the exciting news and practically shoving your new net in his face.

Your words echoed in his mind. Next time, he thought, the smile lingering on his face at the promise of many.

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[wings-of-ink]

Alright, everyone!

HERE ARE THE ASKS YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR

Below the cut are the asks and my answers/responses. I do apologize for not answering these individually, but some of them contain spoilers for chapter 5 content. Given the developments and reveals of the chapter, I want to let things simmer a bit before I pop off responses like normal.

If my Nonies listed below want to pop back into the ask box and let me know they got their answer, I would appreciate that, but you don't have to either (or if you have an additional question or comment, that's fine too!). I will reblog this a few times to make sure you have a higher chance of spotting it.

I numbered the Asks and put my answers in another color so you can tell things apart a bit easier. This is a trial run on answering these this way. I will also tag things for spoilers. ^_^

Anon:  "There's a she-wolf in the closet" made me laugh so hard I cried sdfjglkjl I was not expecting that out of nowhere 🤣😭  the temptation to name the wolf Shakira...............immense.

I'm so glad you got that reference! My husband and I sing that song to each other with the little "awoos" and all, lol. It was too good to pass up. Fun fact, if you name her Shakira, Oswin has a unique response. 

2. Anon:  Hmmm. "I like the name Aster I'll probably use it again" HMMMMM hMMMMM hmmmMMMM Is this new Aster the ??? RO

Remembered that, did ya 😁 (I was quietly cackling when I wrote that for the old ask). You questioning Aster just makes me want to mess with you Nony, you can't tempt me like this! 

3. Anon:  Aster is so hawt, carressing our cheek w his thumb???? "i wont hurr you" pls let him be an ro bc gah damnnnn

Glad that did it for you, Anon, lol. There will be more of that in store. ^_^

4. Ravioli anon here, hope you remember me LOL I just finished reading the new chapter and I HAD A BLAST The whole gang in here now!!!!!! Aster is no longer question marks!!!! (I will admit when they were introcuded I almost, ALMOST expected their name in game to just be ???)

Hello Ravioli! Still chuckling about that I hope you know. The temptation was unreal to leave ??? in there, lol. At this point, even I know him more by that than his name!

Also to keep up with my perfect choice of names, my she-wolf is now named Der, because together we are Ravi and Der Get it, Ravi 'n Der. Consider this as a way to honor our dear grandma we were named after by our loving dads, you'll never be forgotten, you girlboss of a woman 

OMG, you are killing me over here, lol. This makes me want to code something for that, lol. Just your fathers shaking their heads at your MC while still being kinda amused and weirdly proud. Grandmother Ravinder would glare at you, but smile later.

5. @origamihoshi: Screaming about the necklace Oswin gives MC, my headcanon about MC wearing the snail shell as a necklace can now be canon! and I guess more reasons for my MC to be down bad for Oswin oops. I'm loving the update! I'm so happy to finally meet Rune, I love them so much! I wanna befriend them all. and I feel like there's been a good balance to spend time with all the characters so far and that makes me really happy. 😌Also cuddling with Zahn was so sweet oh my god, I love them so much too! I got so many more questions about MC and the curse, and the mark for that matter, looking forward to when we finally get some answers.

I very, very nearly told you that when you posted your MC, I was so ecstatic. I thought if you while coding that section too. I am so glad you enjoyed the new chapter and new goodies. Lots of fun stuff to come! ^_^

6. @mutsuowo:  HELP I NAMED THE SHE-WOLF ASTER BECAUSE I FIRST CALLED THE MULE YARROW AND NOW I HAVE NOT ONE, NOT TWO BUR THREE ASTER* GOING AROUND (I know one changed to Lakota but the joke that count)

Whoops! Lol Sorry my friend! I don't think any more Asters are hiding about at least. Probably….

7. @mutsuowo: I got spoiled of Aster's name by accident and even then I mistook it for being Lakota, so I thought somehow Lakota had a divorce and took the children to be an option romance with the MC. Cue to me acting like a variety game host and going "We have a cult member, a magician, childhood friends and also a wolf...what about you Aster ? What do you bring to make we choose you ?" The answer was being a DILF

Lol! Oh dear, yeah, bestie has a quarter-life crisis and leaves his wife and 4 kids to live that DILF life. Love it, this is some quality daytime TV stuff. 😆 

8. Anon:  Hello there! I am currently in the middle of the newest chapter, very very good work! Spoiler ahead : So MC is absorbing magic? That might actually help the theory that somehow MC is a god, demi-god, or whatever that is: cursed because they are on this plane and needing magic as a very part of their being? I can't imagine that a god wouldn't be starving for magic if deprived of it. Perhaps in GC it's not magic gods handle, but something similar? The fact that we CHOSE the mark truly makes me think that somehow we were choosing an aspect of ourselves for some reason. Not only something physical either. If not our domain, perhaps a tell of why we were cursed in the first place ? I wonder if, before the Curse manifested, MC would have been flagged as a magic being ? I don't think there was anybody that could have sussed them out back then though ? Rune is amazing, btw, big fan. Can't wait for Purple Lad to accompany us and need a bath as badly as Duri did !

Oooh, are you perhaps my Nony who sent some other theories in about this? Very juicy theory as well. Next chapter you'll learn a bit more about Hayat's curse over the gods and see if it lines up or changes your thoughts more. 😁 I'm glad you like Rune too! They are in for a new experience for sure. Even if they aren't as stuffy as other nobles, they definitely appreciate more refined things. The little town MC grew up in might be a bit of a culture shock. 

9. Anon:  Sooooo... I'm thinking we ARE the mad god ! A reincarnation of it at least ! Thinking about how the cult wanted us dead, I am thinking that as long as MC is alive, they can't have another incarnation of them.   But What exactly was it that drove the god mad ?

Oooh! This one is juicy too! These theories are so tasty! Lots of questions with this one. And like the one above, there may be some info in chapter 6 that may just give more evidence one way or another.

10. Anon:  Me on my first playthrough: oh, Oswin's pretty cute! I think I'll try romancing him first Me when I meet Zahn: oh no you can't just make me choose like that how am I supposed to do this Me when I meet Duri: are you kidding me. Ok screw it I'm romancing Duri Me when I meet Rune: FUCKAIJASJDSAAA Me when I meet ???: No reaction because I'm already combusted. I can't even anymore 

Lol! I am glad and maybe just a tiny bit sorry that you're so torn, my dear. Let's find some glue and get you patched up… ^_^

11. Anon:  HAVE THEORIES! NATHAN IS DURI'S UNCLE, AND ASS-TER -HE DESERVES THAT AFTER THE RING BUSINESS >:( - WAS RAISED BY THOSE ASSHOLES WHO ALMOST KIDNAPPED MC! (I am open to Asster endearing himself later, but I'm mad at him rn, how dare he hurt my already hurt, lovely, MC 😡😡😡) Anyway, your writing is impeccable as always, can't wait to (perhaps) bring Asster to his knees (with love or spite, or maybe both?? He seems like someone easy to love-hate, lol). Tysm, for God Cursed, I love it <333

Yaaass, moar theories! That's a good one too! Nathan having some secrets wouldn't be shocking either. They'd get along too… And it is totally fair for MC to be salty! And ASSter is a perfect nickname, lol. It's also fair that in chapter 6 you'll be able to (try to) get after him about it. :3

12. Anon:  TW SPOILERS ''There is nothing I want more than to hear you…hear you say what you- Nothing more… But for your own sake. Y/N, I'm a monster. I have been a monster. Your heart should be free of thoughts of me until you know what haunts my sleep at night. If you can do that for me and your heart does not change, then I will hear those words and I will spend the rest of my days showing you what you mean to me.'' UUUUHHMMMMM, EXCUSE MEE?????? LIKE THIS IS THE MOST-ROMANTIC-NON-LOVE-CONFESSION I HAVE EVER HEARD??? EVEN THOUGH IT BURNS ME TO NOT KNOW WHAT AFFLICTS OSWIN, AFTER HEARING THAT I'M WILLING TO WAIT FOR HIM.

I love that you love this! I might have cried juuuust a little bit when I wrote that scene, lol (shocking, I know).

13. Anon:  replayed the IF from the start for the update and gosh i felt so bad for our dear MC who has gone through SO much in a (relatively) short amount of time. and the way MC just always thinks about their fathers makes me sobbbbbb. one that always gets me is the scene where MC cried out for their fathers when they were in pain (my heart broke when they said they wanted to be held by their papa). another is in the scene with jasper and co. (‘i learned it from my fathers!’, yesss go MC!!!!). but oh, just imagining the absolute heartbreak the fathers would feel if they knew how MC cried out for them and knew about everything that MC went through, makes me tear up! MC is SO loved by their fathers and MC loves them just as much and i love that. i hope we’ll be able to give da and papa the biggest hugs when we see them again 🥹wonderful update, author! i absolutely adore the world you’ve built and the brilliant characters you’ve created (shout out to one my favs.. our new she-wolf friend <3)

I set out on this IF journey intending to be a bit hard on the MC and I think I succeeded, lol. It might be hard to believe but I really do love the MC as a character too and I feel for them. Hopefully not too hard, but they're on a journey of perseverance so I have faith in them. ^_^ That scene really tore me up too, especially thinking about how hard it would hit the dads to know their beloved kid was calling out to them. 😭 I am so glad you enjoyed the update, my dear, there will be great big dad-hugs in the future, I promise (and more than a few tears). ^_^

14. Anon:  idk if it's choice or route-specific but, zahn was NOT looking good at the end of chapter 5 and i'm worried 😟

Not route-specific (unfortunately???)…they're…going through some things. 😬 (sorry in advance)

15. Anon:  Hi, hi!! Dropping by to blabber about the update after i've finally had time to lose myself in it! (Oh no it got long again.) Okay, so, from the very moment i saw your intro post (over half a year ago, methinks) i decided to go for Rune's route first. I have been very patient, very faithful. And now i can finally say it was so, so worth the wait!!! they have me wrapped all around their beautiful noble finger; they're perfect, they are everything (i mean, how many people can say a literal god shows up for their birthday? yeah, thought so). I know they are no exception either and have their own share of issues, but honestly? that's even better. I wish i was kidding about the amount of times i daydream about them. Look at me now how i'm smiling like a stupid idiot. And the fact that i can make my MC an absolute shy mess around them is just so!! *chef's kiss* 

"Oh no it got long again" is like the tagline for my existence, lol. I am so giddy that you adore Rune! I think they've had less traction since they weren't introduced until now, but I also believe they are just the type of person that is better experienced. I enjoy writing all of the ROs, but Rune is such a presence in my heart and I really hope that comes through.

Also, did Duri seriously rat them out like that? Umm, for science, of what nature, exactly, are the books under Runey's bed?

LOL and I'm so glad you caught that bit about their "hidden literature." Rune LOVES romance novels, including the ridiculous smutty ones even if the plot is kinda bad.

Anyway, moving on, because you fed us so well with the story once again!! Can i just say i love your brain? Can i? Is that weird? Apologies. So!

You can totally say that, lol. I appreciate that you think so, my brain frustrates me sometimes, but I like how smooth it is. Very soft.

We learned so much in this update, and yet our answers are still too far to reach--but that's the whole fun about this! I'm thinking things, i'm suspecting, but i'll hold onto my theories for now… It is indeed very fortunate that each of MC's new friends can seemingly contribute a piece to this vexing puzzle; question is, is the picture only missing the very last piece, or are all four needed for it to be complete? I'm folding my hands and patiently waiting to find out in future updates. 

Oooh, you're speaking my language, Nony. There are some theories up above, maybe those will get your mind spinning too. That's a very good question though too. Eveyone seems to have something that might help MC out…so the question could be, do they go full Power Rangers and combine them to solve this problem or is one strong enough on their own? Hmmmmm? Time will tell.

One thing i will say is, more people may know about MC and their whole deal than Oswin may want to even consider. People with not the best intentions, that is.

I'm sure it's fiiiiiine. Probably just a…crazy…crazy fluke. It's fine. 😀

Speaking of, Oswin is so sweet! He cares so much i think it's rending him apart. Perhaps he should partake of Nathan's pipe every now and then. You know, for recreational purposes. Frankly i admit i don't know how mean you still can be to Oswin because every time there's a choice during his scenes i just tunnel-vision to the friendliest one there. It really makes me feel sorry for him if there are MCs out there who are still bitter about their relationship. As he was opening up about what kinds of actual horrors he witnessed and had to deal with in consequence, it really made me think MC's little group should, as a side-quest, go out and find him a therapist, because this guy *slaps him on the back* can fit so much trauma in him!

That's a good way to describe Oswin. He feels very intensely and those emotions are difficult for him to manage. I try not to be too mean to him, but I do want to try and give a decent variety of responses to the past tension for some MCs. Negativity there isn't a huge focus, so I try not to go too far down the rabbit hole with it at least, lol. A therapist is a great idea for him, for real. You cracked me up with that reference, I imagine Lakota trying to sell him to the MC, lol.

 I see Zahn has entered the trenches(TM). Just after i had them repeatedly stabbed in MC's place. And just after they finally got to cuddle with MC. This is fine. Not gonna lie, for a solid second you had me believe we wouldn't see them come back from that totally not evil or at least highly doubtful church of theirs, and that we'd had to leave without them. Haha, no waay. Lunan wouldn't do that to them, right? Right? Oh thank gods. See? I was right. Anyway, it seems like their character development arc is coming up soon, so i'm keeping calm and not cracking my knuckles, not at all.

Oh yes, there will be some development soon here. Tee hee?

Duri is so fun. Their playfulness is so endearing, so much so that i find myself repeatedly swayed in my decision to have them in a (now mostly) platonic relationship with MC. Simmer down, you'll have your turn. It had me rolling how they snapped once the bandits insulted their feet lmao! Also, also, their dynamic with Rune? Mmm, so good. I love the kind of friendship that's like "yeah i picked up this weird wet dog one day and now it won't leave me be and it's annoying, but only i'm allowed to say that. here, have a treat."

I love that you love that. Writing Duri is fun and I get to break some social norms with them so it's a win-win for us all. The relation to Rune is a blast.

Moving on, Duri sniffing MC after they talked with someone they didn't know; Duri immediately leaping at the opportunity to tease a jealous MC; Duri coming to MC's rescue to put a harasser in their place--they can't keep getting away with being so charming! Oh wait, they can. Human laws don't apply to them, after all.

Duri is already so loyal. Like a pup you picked up at the shelter, the connection is pretty quick for them. Also, if you didn't know, you can also get Rune to get defensive of MC being harassed in the tavern. Currently thinking of changing the code of that, but if you choose to stay neutral or a bit distrustful of Duri, Rune will get involved instead. Both have the confidence and the power to back it up though, can't go wrong.

And Aster? Something is up with him. Big time. Bost obviously, his name. I don't know, i don't know, i'm not convinced it's a coincidence or merely "fate." I'm watching you, Aster. Okay, and yes, i see why MC might need his help, but he never once elaborated on that part where he said he needs MC for power. Sooo, naah, i'm not putting my egg in your basket, not yet. Especially!! After he so brutally demonstrated just how much of a bigger hand he has over MC. That was evil. (In a good way.) He's unhinged, and i love that in a character. I would not trust him even with a cheese grater.

That may be wisdom here for sure, lol. Aster is quite the character, as are all of them I suppose. All have secrets he especially has some serious growing to do. He'll be an interesting addition - and a very smug one at that. Maybe juuuust maybe MC can get him to feel a little remorse for being an ASSter, to quote a previous ask, lol.

I almost thought MC's group of friends were going to mistake him for the kidnapper and everyone would want to throw hands, or would at least be very leery of him, so seeing how easily he slotted in had me a little surprised (and i think he was a bit surprised himself).

That very nearly happened actually. I cut it because of chapter length, and I'm thinking I want to polish the ending for that anyway. I feel like I was burnt out while writing that and I pushed it too fast. So, we'll see what happens in future….

I really, really liked the option of having MC be scared of him after he put a cork (dart) in Jasper's mouth (throat). The head tilt afterwards? Wiping away a stray tear? "Now come sit with me on my picnic blanket designer cloak to talk about how everything is drawn to you, including me?" "I'll need to study you?" Yes, i'll take your entire stock.

I'm glad you enjoyed your dessert, Nony. ;) There will be some serious studying in the next chapter.

Oswin being extremely quiet while MC was recounting their failed abduction because he was still recovering from those 6 panic attacks he had since finding MC's room empty and with signs of struggle.

THIS absolutely. MC may get an account of the experience later.

 i can't wait to see what the dads are going to say about each of MC's new friends! I can already imagine who might not entirely vibe with whom, especially if papa and da are going to be in a sour mood after they see my (feral despite being the healer of the party) MC scarred and sore despite their letters containing nothing but rainbows and sunshine (oops). MC's right, though, how are they going to house so many people lol.

This will be so much fun, especially when it comes to sleeping arrangements…A couple ROs will get themselves sorted but there's a couple that we might just get a "one bed" trope with, lol.

And last but not least, MC got the promised puppy!!! (i named her "Ginger" <33) 

Oh that is such a cute name too! She is kinda the color of ginger and she's also very gentle (ginger) AND she can be very spicy if you piss her off. Very gingery.

I have been here before and gushed about your writing on multiple occasions and i don't want to repeat myself over and over, so i'll just reiterate once more that i'm constantly blown away by how real and vivid you make everything feel. You're putting things down and i'm picking them right up, thank you, thank you, yup, i'll have that as well, thank you. You're painting pictures inside my head, and they're gorgeous and vibrant and moving now--hey, how did you even get in here? I'm convinced you're a mage. MC is not the mage here (yet?), but you sure are!! It's okay, you may fess up now. As always, thank you so much for all your hard work! May your holidays be full of joy and rest! Take care <333

I am so thankful that you resonate so much with my writing, my friend. That really truly makes my heart so glad and encourages me to keep at it. I hope each chapter brings you more and more enjoyment and adventure. ^_^

16. @rhiannon02:  IM SCREAMING OVER CH 5 LITERALLY SCREAMING ASTER ??? IM IM LOSING IT

Well, hang on dear, maybe I can help you find it, lol. (I heard that one in my soul) ^_^

That's all for now! ^_^

[pricegouge]

alright.

cw: price x trans!reader. no gendered terms used so you can be trans in any direction you want. attempted deadnaming.

he knows something's amiss the second he opens the door to the pungent, chemical scent of too much cleaning product.

it's not that you don't keep a tidy house. some clutter, maybe, but only enough to feel homey, and he's never once found fault in the level of dust or dirt build up, even with his heightened standards after so many years in the service. but this level of cleanliness, the pristine shine of counters, and the cheery scent of orange peel and anise in the simmer pot on the stove. it could only mean one thing.

you're nowhere on the ground floor, though his search reveals more bleached grout, shampooed carpets. john calls up the stairs for you sweetly, a warning of his approach just a much as a barometer by which to gauge your response. he's never shied away from conflict, but he's only made it this far in life by being smart, never going in half-cocked, or with bad intel. he curses silently when you don't play along, either not having heard him or just outright ignoring him.

it's not looking good for him, that's for sure.

"sweetheart?" he tries again, beginning the ascent to your shared room. abject fear doesn't set in until he hears you banging around, taking out whatever pent up aggression you still haven't worked out on his things, by the sound of it. he scrubs a palm over his whiskers, checks the calendar on his phone to ensure he hasn't missed an important date by mistake. he doesn't truly start to panic until he hears you mutter an honest to god 'lousy good for nothin'.'

whatever he's done, there's nothing for it but to take your anger on the chin and start groveling.

you don't even give him time to greet you when he opens the door, spinning around to level him with that same look you use on the boys when they're being insufferable. it transforms you into some wild thing, fiery and tempestuous with sweat caking your hair to your temples and your breath puffing your chest up. he's half a mind to tell you how gorgeous you are, but he's a little afraid you'll make him swallow that swiffer duster if he does.

"dove -?" he tries and you huff before he can even finish, turning away to continue your tirade, mumbling incoherently all the while and he must have a death wish cause he follows after you, hands gentling on your shoulders even as you try to shrug him off. "love, look at me, please. what's wrong? hm? have i done something?"

cagey and stiff, you fight him even as he envelops you, hissin' and spittin' the whole way.

"it's nothing, john. can you -?"

his eyebrows nearly escape the confines of his forehead. "nothin'? that why you damn near polished a hole through the dining table?"

a sputtering sound, somewhere between a cough and laugh. it's all he needs to breathe a bit easier. if it had been something he'd done, you'd have mouthed off about putting a hole in him next time. he guides you to the bed, shoves the wadded up pile of dirty linens you'd clearly intended on laundering up the mattress to clear a spot for you. the smell of febreze wafts around you as you sink into it, not an inch of the house having eluded your wrath. "alright. it's alright now. c'mere, look at me," he coos, waits for you to abide before giving you an overly sweet smile. "now, what's happened?"

you sag, cut strings, the tension in your spine leaving you entirely the second he guides you through one long breath. unexpectedly easy, as if you wanted to be settled and soothed. "got a holiday card from my dad," you grumble, voice muffled somewhere in the pocket of his neck and shoulder.

he hums, the nature of your frustration starting to take shape. your father - absent the entire time he's known you, at least, though from what he gathers that hadn't been a recent development even back then. you exchange texts sometimes, often laugh when he forgets your birthday. chew john's ear off when the man has the nerve to say you're absent from his life when you fail to wish him a happy easter. he waits for you to elucidate. offers some semblance of a truce when he waits too long. "that was nice of him?"

a scoff, some wriggling. you produce a folded up drug store card with a chicken in a santa hat printed on the front. "misspoke," you croak, shoving the card into his hands. "he wrote someone a holiday card."

john sighs, presses a kiss to your scalp as he drops the card right back onto his lap. he doesn't need to open it to know what he'll find, though he's honestly surprised you'd even bothered to tell your father, not when you speak with him infrequently enough that him knowing your preferred name even seemed to matter. but it was your call and if you'd done so, only to have your wishes ignored, he'd half a mind to find this man and unload some built up issues he'd been collecting and ignoring ever since you'd first asked him to leave it.

"oh sweetheart," he murmurs, follows it with your preferred name because he wants you to know how much he likes it. "i'm so sorry. but you know who you are, even if he doesn't accept you, and -."

he stalls out when you squirm away from him, pluck the card right back up from the floor where it had fallen to press it, open, into his face. you're angry again, stalking around the room before he even realizes you've stood.

"you're sweet, but too optimistic, john." the accusation nearly levels him, not one that's ever been laid at his feet. it's a shock that only festers, bottom giving way when you continue, "that motherfucker wishes he'd deadnamed me."

well. doesn't that just pique the curiosity. he's not sure what he expects to find when he uncrumples the card. a medical bill, maybe - your father deciding that all these years of separation ought to be repaid literally. maybe the fool had gone and had another kid, sent you the ultrasound like you were all still one big happy family. he's decidedly not expecting to see the damn thing addressed to someone else entirely. so much so that he nearly asks who it's for before taking a second look, reading it over again.

wrong name. wrong deadname. a slight variant of your legal, christian name. and not even a matter of getting you confused with another family member because as far as he can remember, no one in your extended shares this name. and he can certainly remember more of your family than your damn father can. no, the man had simply forgotten what was on the birth certificate he'd signed. close, though.

"well, he's got the first syllable right," john hedges, folding the card carefully closed along the same seams you'd pressed into it. you don't find him funny, barely even acknowledge he's spoken as you continue to pace. he tries again, casting desperately for an excuse he knows the man doesn't deserve. "is he... unwell?"

"he's fucking fine, john. he's just an ass."

"he's getting up there," john counters, standing, creaky kneed, to trap you in his arms again. "you haven't seen him for years, right? maybe he's -."

"he's fine. called him to thank him for the card," you scoff, take a minute to resettle yourself before speaking again. "i was thinking maybe the same thing, you know? not unreasonable. but he's completely fine. even asked to speak with his girlfriend, just to be sure she hadn't noticed anything either. fit as a fucking fiddle. just forgot what he fucking named me."

without the distraction of cleaning, or pacing, or cursing, your frustration has nowhere to go except tears. he holds you, presses kisses to your crown. calls you by your name - your real one, the one you chose - just to make sure you know someone remembers it, he supposes. honestly, he's at a bit of a loss. not something he's overly used to, people's ability to surprise him having long since worn off. but this is a new one. or, at least not one he's equipped to handle. fathers forgot their kids all the time. forgot to go home after that trip to the store, forgot to call on their birthdays. his own old man had forgotten plenty in his time, too. but he's still fairly certain the man would have been able to recall what he'd named his son right up until the day he'd died.

by the time you've calmed down you're ready for a shower. he'd join you, but he hears the way your stomach growls, food evidently forgotten all day. so he pulls the curtain closed on you after one last kiss and picks his way to the kitchen where he starts first by sifting through the trash, finding the merry red envelope addressed to the wrong person at the bottom, buried under all the waste you'd excised during your cleaning spree. he takes a picture of the corner, tastefully crops out the name that had given you so much grief. sighing, he returns everything to the bin and washes his hands, careful to ensure he won't accidentally scald you.

the rest of the evening moves easier. there's nothing that can be said and you both know it, so you don't. he can let it settle as long as you want, doesn't mean to keep scratching at a fresh wound. so you eat dinner in relative silence, and you sit in relative silence when he lets you use him like a pillow on the couch after, your favorite comfort film playing softly. and that's fine. the next bit he can do alone, anyway. got your father's address tucked safely in his pocket already.

he just thinks someone should make sure the man's okay, is all.

and if i write a comfort fic where your daddy as hell boyfriend takes care of you after you open a card from your flesh and blood father to find it addressed to the wrong fucking name, are y'all gonna be super chill and never ask what inspired it?

[dearlot]

transfem lottie who gets you a strap on and gifts it to you on christmas eve because she has wanted to ask you if she could bottom for So long but was too shy... she's sitting there rubbing her legs all nervous while you open it and hopes you get the message so she doesn't have to say it out loud 😭

she makes you wait in the next room while she changes into red bra and panties and a santa hat and positions herself for you on the bed 😓😓 it is So worth the wait tho bc.. Wow. you have to stop yourself from pouncing her right that second 😵‍💫

-🍊

she asks you if you wanna pick out one present to open before tomorrow and has to lead you to the one she very deliberately placed because ur going for the big one 😭 thinking of her looking on websites to find you the perfect one and always getting sidetracked by imagining you fucking her with it and jerking off @__@ it gets to the point where she's so excited for it after she buys it that she gets a lil needy :( her breath hitching when you talk to her, easily blushing and getting random boners....

ur both so shy when you open it 😖😖 she'd wrap it up so neatly with a bow and make it all cutesy but the box has HUGE ANAL DILDO STRAP ON written on it 😭😭😭 def a squirting one too but that's for next time :-3 and she can't even vocally confirm it's for you when you ask because she's so dizzy and horny!!!!

lil blurb down blow hehehehe merry christmas @heliolottie this one's for you

"Don't you wanna put it on me at least?" you ask, licking your lips at the sight of Lottie's already half-chub as she turns back around. Your stomach does somersaults as you think about fucking her with it, imagining her face twisting into pleasure as you hit all the right places. You might have to crawl back to the bedroom because, my God, do your legs feel weak.

"I can stroke myself while I wait." you continue, trying to tempt her. Your mouth upturns into a smirk when her breath hitches, and you quickly fumble with opening the box after she nods silently. She stands awkwardly in front of you as you take it out, subtly palming her cock and struggling not to let out tiny gasps. After you take everything out, including the new harness she bought, you shove it in her shaky hands and start undressing yourself.

Once finished, you stand completely naked in front of her. "Go ahead."

Lottie kneels in front of you and you remember how much you love this sight. Your tummy does those somersaults again as she pats your thigh, and you place a hand on her shoulder to steady yourself as you lift your legs into the harness holes. Her fingertips dance across your skin as she reaches the straps, and you feel warm and giddy. She tightens the side straps way too tight and you teasingly thrust your hips in her face in response. She lets out an embarrassing moan and tries to cover it up by coughing. She can feel her cock grow bigger as she thinks about you shoving your strap in her face like that. And speaking of it, her trembling hands pick up the strapon and safely secure it in the harness, resisting the urge to completely abandon the idea of dressing up for you to sloppy makeout with the tip instead.

You feel like you've been waiting hours as you sit on the couch and experimentally pump your strap into your hands, wondering what's taking Lottie so long to call you back. Okay it's only been, like, 2 minutes, but still. You're horny and impatient. You can already hear your slick squelch against the base of the harness as you stroke the shaft. God, you're just as excited for this as Lottie is. You'd be lying if you said you've never thought about topping her at least once. You're not the biggest top in the relationship but at times you get this overwhelming urge to show her you can ruin her just as she ruins you.

Your ears perk and your tail stands straight up as you hear Lottie finally call you, and you practically speed over to the bedroom, hand hovering over the knob as you suddenly get shy. You smile stupidly to yourself and shake your head, biting your lip as you enter the room. Lottie's lying on the bed, clad in deep red lingerie and a Santa hat, and you could honestly drop dead right now. At least you would die happy.

"Holy shit..." you mumble to yourself. You can see her leaky tip peek out from her lacy panties, and it twitches slightly as you walk closer. "This might be the best Christmas ever."

OKOK thats all i feel like i can write rn without exploding but fawk. crawling up her body and resting on her chest, making her suck you off because you even touch her @__@ she gets so fucking greedy and horny that she ends up deepthroating herself on the strap :( thinking about eating her out before you fuck her too......spitting on her asshole and watching it wink for you... or maybe she's been prepping herself all day just for this and she's just so impatient, begging you to slide in with little foreplay. oh i know her cock would be flopping around so cutely while you bottom out in her GAHHH. telling her you gotta wait until she's adjusted before fucking her and shes already so close to cumming :( fucking her so good she goes crossed-eyed and grips onto you so tightly that you bleed....we're doing it in literally every position until we're BOTH passed out idc.

[silk-flower]

Gentle Glow, A Heart's Whisper [James Sunderland X Reader]

anon asked: it seems like James just suffers so much even in fanfics 😭 can he and female reader have something good happen to them at least on Christmas? I just want this man to be happy...

synopsis: It's Christmas Eve, and it appears like the time is against him in these final days of the year. James' darling is waiting for him at home to have Christmas dinner together, but he is working late and doubts he will make it in time. What's the holdup on a holiday like this? You fall asleep on the couch while waiting.

status: oneshot, read on AO3

content warning: female reader, reader described as pale in some parts [?], self-deprecating thoughts, grieving and trying to move on, men crying, established relationship, fluff, romance and kissing n stuff, a Christmas trope

author's note: This was a request that came in before my previous blog got suspended and I didn't have a chance to post it! Wherever this finds you, sorry if this took too long, hope you'll enjoy. Also, this is really long, I got a little carried away...

Aside from the faint hum of fluorescent lights, the sporadic click of keys and clinking of coffee cups as James works on his computer, the office is silent. In an attempt to finish some last-minute work before the holiday break, he has been at his desk for hours on end, sustaining himself on copious amounts of caffeine. Outside, the world is blanketed in snow like in a magical fairy tale, but inside, it's just another bland day at the office. Except today, he's eager to actually leave early instead of taking extra hours.

James glances at the clock on his computer screen. A bunch of gray pixels mockingly blinks 9:30 PM at him. His fingers drop and pull off his computer glasses as he groans and runs a hand through his hair in annoyance. Sensing the impending headache, he closes his eyes and rubs the lids. Just his luck, huh?

He knows you're waiting for him at home, expecting to have dinner together, and there's nothing more he wants than to be wrapped up in your embrace right now, sipping some hot cocoa under a warm blanket. But with the way things are going, he doubts he'll be able to make it in time. It's unpleasant enough to be working on Christmas Eve, but staying late is just on another level of evil, especially when he has someone special, all wrapped up in holiday cheer waiting on him.

He picks up the office phone and dials your home number. James knows he's not exactly allowed to use the corporate line for personal calls, but he doesn't care in the slightest. This is important. He can feel the inside of his palm sweating, waiting for you to pick up anxiously as he fumbles with the ballpoint over some stupid spreadsheet. A few painfully slow rings of the dial are followed by the distinctive rustle of the handset and your well-known, sleep-drowsy voice. James feels sick to his stomach from all the coffee he's guzzled. How is he going to deliver this?

— Uh, hello? — you complain softly, your voice still raspy from sleep. James can hear the faint sound of some holiday program in the background, the audience's laughter and music tugging on his heart strings. You are all alone in your small flat.

— Hey, it's me, — James coos, feeling partly guily for waking you up, the ballpen running in circles on the white sheet, — Merry Christmas.

Several of his few coworkers are gazing up at him curiously from their cubicles as he nervously looks around. Calling you casually in public is still something he's not used to.

— James? — Your voice brightens up a little as you clear your throat and he hears you rise up from the couch, — Where are you? Are you coming home soon?

Home. James feels a pang of guilt surge through him.

— I'm still in the office, — he admits begrudgingly, feeling the wave of anxiousness rise up as he hears your little "oh" through the dial, — I'm sorry, hun.

Over the phone, he hears you whine deeply, his own disappointment weighing hard on his chest.

— I know, I know. I'm so sorry, — he drops the pen, annoyed with himself as he fidgets in his seat, — There's just so much to be done with these blasted invoices, you know how it gets before the holidays.

There's a pause on the other end of the line, and James can almost imagine the expression on your face turning from sour to bittersweet compassionate.

— It's okay, don't worry about it, — you utter finally, your voice softening, — I understand. But I still think they work you too hard, James.

James feels a surge of gratitude for your understanding, even as he knows he doesn't deserve it.

— Thank you, — he says, his voice quiet but thick with adoration, his lips turning up slightly, — I'm just... Sorry I can't be with you right now.

You two keep chatting for a few more minutes, making small talk about your plans for the holidays, the presents you got each other, and his favorite food you've made. Although James attempts to make his part of the conversation lighthearted and upbeat so as not to upset you too much, he is a jumble of self-loathing on the inside. Some partner he is. He should have insisted on a day off or taken an unpaid leave, but he left you on your own on a day like this.

— I miss you, — he whispers finally, a slight blush creeping up his ears as he tries to stare at his computer screen to avoid unwanted eye contact, — I'll see you soon, okay? I'll be there, I promise.

— I also miss you, — your voice is filled with longing as you respond softly, — I'll wait for you and keep the food warm, so drive carefully.

After hanging up, James feels the burden of his guilt pressing down on him. The idea of disappointing you again makes him nauseous, even if you claim you're not angry with him. He knows he's already let you down. He has to make it home before midnight at least, even if continuous typing will make his fingers blister.

With a weary gaze, James surveys the office, taking in the abandoned cubicles and the shadowed windows outside, the only sound being the buzz of his computer. The scarce remains of his coworkers gradually leave the office, waving him warm goodbyes and happy holidays as they head home to be with their families. Leaving him alone and jealous of them in the dead quiet of the building, just the way you are now. He sighs, turning his attention back to his computer screen.

As he types away, his mind wanders to thoughts of you, curled up on the couch at home with your cozy blanket keeping you warm. As you sleep, James imagines your face, calm and soft, your chest rising and falling with each delicate breath. He sees himself sitting next to you, holding you close and engulfing you in his arms. The way your eyes would brighten when you saw him get home in time to wake you up with a tender, passionate kiss. The way they would sparkle with laughter, the lovely pink pearl earrings he got you catching the light, outlining your shoulders' slope and your neck's exquisite curve…

God, how much he longs to see you. James closes his eyes and sighs in anticipation. He has to focus on finishing the paperwork now and stop daydreaming about you, or none of this is going to happen with the way things are going.

He puts in another hour of effort, but his progress is frustratingly slow. The dates don't match, the figures won't add up, the last person working on the file is making him angry and swearing under his breath, and he's anxious about finishing on time — everything seems to be trying to slow him down.

By the time he's finished, it's nearly midnight, and the office feels even more empty and desolate than before. James gathers his things, hurriedly swiping them into his briefcase, and grabs his coat, dismissing his hat and gloves to save the little time he has left. Legs heavy with fatigue, he rushes out of the office and to his car, never minding the strain in his feet. There's so little time left he doubts he will make it, but he still pushes. You must've given up on waiting for him, feeling disappointed and abandoned, finally falling asleep, and the thought clutches at his heart, making him walk to the parking lot faster.

The cold night air hits him like a slap in the face, prickly snowflakes getting caught in his eyes, but he barely notices, his mind focused solely on marching through the snow slopes as quickly as possible. James hurries across the parking lot, his feet pounding against the white pavement with each step, the snow crunching under his feet, reminding him of the forgotten holiday. The strain in his legs is starting to take its toll, but he pushes through it, determined to make it to you on time.

He fumbles with his keys as he gets closer to his car, the lock severely frozen and his fingertips numb from the cold. After a while, he unlocks the door and enters, slamming it behind him in despair.

— Come on baby, don't let me down now, — he breathes out pleadingly to his old but still beloved light blue Pontiac as he turns the keys, the roar of the engine making him instantly elated.

James starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot, the tires screeching against the icy pavement. The roads are empty, but he still drives with a sense of urgency, his heart racing in his chest. As he drives, his mind drifts to thoughts of you, curled up on the couch at home, waiting for him. His knuckles whiten as he tightens his grasp on the driving wheel as a wave of shame sweeps over him. He ignores his icy limbs, even though the leather seat and the wheel are frozen cold with the car staying out on the street all day.

With the Christmas lights glittering in the distance, he rushes through the deserted streets. The sight would be lovely to him normally, but tonight it simply reminds him of what he's missing out on. Despite James' best efforts and the radio music blasting, the negative thoughts continue to bombard him. He feels terrible, like a monster that leaves his family alone on Christmas Eve. His mind tracks back to the last year when he met you, and his heart soars with warmth and adoration. His mind's eye brings out your smaller frame before him, giving the most beautiful smile to the weird, not really there, stubbled stranger at the bar. Was it back then when he started catching these feelings for you?

He sees your flat's window ahead as he turns onto his street, the living room's muted lights still on. The sweet feeling of knowing you're there somewhere puts an excited smile on his face. James pulls into the driveway and cuts the engine, his heart pounding in his ears as he pats on your present in his breast pocket, snug and secure. For a short while, he sits in the car and looks out the window at the lights you strung on the Christmas tree while trying to soothe his racing heart.

James walks up to the door, fumbling with his spare set of keys once again. At last, he gets inside by carefully turning the key in the keyhole, hardly making a sound, and meticulously shutting the door behind him.

— Sweetheart? — James calls out gently, his voice laden with unspoken worry, — I'm home.

The house is quiet, save for the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall. James walks down the hallway, his heart in his throat. He feels a surge of gentleness as he quietly discharges his boots and coat, tiptoeing to the living room that is only lit up by the lights of the Christmas tree that you so diligently decorated all by yourself. His socks and the edges of his slacks are effectively soaked with snow.

The man walks quietly to the living room, only the light sounds of your breathing and his soft footsteps echoing in the stillness of the room as he takes in the sight of his lover. The sight of you sleeping with the phone clenched in your hand makes James' heart skip a beat as he walks over. You've been calling the office, searching for him.

With the colorful lights creating a rainbow of hues on the walls and ceiling as well as your serene features, the space is filled with a cozy, joyous glow. He pauses to look at you, huddled on the couch, slumping over the edge with the pastel-colored phone handle clenched in your hand. James feels a wave of affection rush over him as you appear so tiny, so comfy, so much like home.

His hand reaches out to brush a stray hair off your forehead as he kneels on the plush cream carpet next to the sofa. You stir slightly at his touch, your eyelids fluttering, but you don't wake even as he slides the back of his palm gently on your cheek. Seeing you waiting for him and missing him makes him realize how fortunate he is to have you in his life and to be allowed to be in yours, even if he knows he let you down tonight.

James gently presses his mouth against your forehead in a kiss, his lips still a little dense from the cold. You radiate warmth in return.

— Merry Christmas, — he whispers, his voice barely audible in the silent room, as he gazes upon your ethereal form.

James sits back on his heels, his eyes still fixed on your sleeping form. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart, keeping himself from planting gentle kisses all over your face like he yearns to; your rosy cheeks, adorable tip of your nose, soft eyelids and lips. Reaching out, he removes the phone from your grasp, delicately uncurling each finger individually before placing it on the coffee table. You've been waiting for him all night, and he doesn't want to wake you up.

He stands up slowly, his joints popping from the long day of sitting at his desk. He doesn't stretch, though, to not let them crack and destroy the tranquility of the peaceful haven that you've turned your living room into. James looks around the room, taking in the decorations you put together. The tree he took care of mainly; the stockings hanging on the wall, and the wreath on the door were of your making. You did it all for you both, for your first holiday together.

Admiring the antique ornaments he chose especially for you, he approaches the tree and runs his fingertips down its branches before placing the small jewelry box underneath. He smiles as he remembers the way your face lit up when you opened the colorful store box and saw the ornaments, the way you hugged him tight and thanked him for making your first Christmas together so special. James recalls the way he laughed and teased you for how you found joy in the simplest things; those were just silly trinkets after all. But seeing joy on your smiling face was worth so much more than this ordinary gift. He would give you the world if he could, everything you'd ever ask for, though he knew you wouldn't.

It has now been five years. He finds it hard to comprehend how quickly time passes sometimes. It's been nearly five years since... The pain never truly left, not really anyway, lingering somewhere deep in his subconscious and daring to come out in the late hours of the night. Recently, however, things have been beginning to improve a little bit; his heart craving for new things that are beautiful, warm, and welcoming, drawing him into their embrace and instantly numbing his guilt and hatred for himself, even if just for a short while.

"Mary, I... I think I'm falling for someone else", he thinks to himself, and surprisingly, he does not feel distraught.

The way you accepted him and continued to gaze up at him like he was your treasure, your beacon, even after revealing what he's done. Like he was the only man in the world for you. Sometimes, it made him think of the dark side you shared with him. James was aware that he did not deserve it, but perhaps fate — or whatever it was — was offering him a second chance to try to change and start again. Perhaps he will have an opportunity to make amends soon as well.

James' hazel eyes catch a particular shiny ornament, a silver bell that hangs too far on the branch, threatening to fall off. He touches the ornament on the tree, attempting to adjust it a little, causing it to jingle slightly, melodically erupting through the silent room, disturbing its peace. He lets out a startled moan, yanking his hand back immediately, but it's already too late; the fiddled branch gives under the weight of the mischievous toy. James' hand freezes in midair as the ornament falls with a pitiful thud, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot. As he turns to look at the couch frantically, he finds you fully awake, looking at him with your eyes still half-lidded, hands rubbing your face.

For a moment, your face is a mask of confusion, brows furrowed comically as you try to process the sight of him. But then, recognition dawns, and your expression shifts, a smile spreading across your face. Your bleary eyes widen with surprise, and your face immediately changes when you realize that your love is home. Still clad in his office job suit, his clumsy silhouette illuminated by tens of sparkling lights. You glance at the clock rapidly; it's minutes before midnight.

— James! — you exclaim, voice filled with joy and relief.

You jump off the couch, almost tripping on your wrinkled blanket, his rushed "careful!" following suit, arms outstretched and ready, as you leap towards him with abandon.

James extends his arms to embrace you, his heart bursting with affection. You collide with him, your heated body molding against his chilled one, your arms wrapping around his waist, your face buried in his shirt, inhaling his cologne and the faint smell of coffee.

James holds you tight, bones almost cracking, his hand running through your freshly washed hair, his lips pressing against the top of your head. He breathes in your wonderful scent, a mix of floral shampoo and the faint smell of cinnamon apple pie you've baked, as his blonde hair mingles with yours. He feels your pajama-clad body relax against his frame, arms tightening around his waist, fingers digging into his back. He knows you've been waiting for him all night, so beautiful, so perfect.

— I'm sorry for waking you, — he murmurs, apologizing yet again this night, his voice muffled against your fluffy hair, seemingly unable to stop inhaling your heavenly smell as he takes long and deep whiffs of your locks.

You pull back slightly, your delicate hands cupping his face, your eyes searching his deep hazel-green puppy gaze.

— It's okay, stop apologizing, — you grumble, your voice softly scolding him for berating himself, — I'm just glad you're here now, it's all that matters.

James leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes meeting yours, and his lashes lowering in delight at your closeness.

— I missed you, — he murmurs, his voice full of feeling, — Missed you so much today.

— Missed you too, honey. I've been waiting for you, — you mumble gently, trailing off as he daws closer to you, his breath fanning against your face.

James leans in, his lips chapped from the cold, brushing against yours in a soft, gentle kiss. As you sigh, granting his mouth and tongue much-needed permission, he pours all of his love and passion into your hungry lips. His cold hands cup your warm face, and his thumbs caress your cheeks, allowing him to sink in their warmth. He presses his torso into you until there is no more space, pulling you up and closer by your waist, hands raking your middle. Deepening the intense kiss, your lips moving gently against one another, and the room filling with the subtle sounds of wet skin on flesh.

Just when you start feeling your insides tingling with the added sensation of his stubble rubbing against you, he pulls back, his eyes searching yours, his heart racing in his chest under your palm.

— Merry Christmas, — he whispers, his voice husky and low.

You smile, eyes shining with joy and love,

— Merry Christmas, — you whisper back, voice filled with warmth.

As you stand there, surrounded by the glow of the Christmas tree, James feels a sense of peace wash over him. For the first time in a long while, he feels truly content, truly... Happy. And the thought of it doesn't scare him.

James cradles you close, his chin resting on top of your adorable head, his heart bursting with love and yearning. He can feel the warmth of your body, the softness of your hair against his chin, tickling him slightly as he blows it away gently.

He listens as you mumble into his chest, voice still sleepy and groggy from the sudden awakening.

— I love you, James. Thank you for being with me this year.

James's eyes sting, his throat tightening with your sudden heartfelt confession. He knows the past years hasn't been easy for either of you. The loss of his wife still raw in his heart, the tragedy of Silent Hill, the struggle to rebuild his life again and again, starting therapy and failing, then trying to quit his addiction. But through it all, you've been there, a constant source of love and support, his never-giving-up unwavering light in the dark, guiding him to his better self. Giving him the resolve to try, not for Mary or you, but for himself.

James tightens his arms around your waist, grabbing at your pajama top as he does, as if afraid that you'll slip away like a dream if he does. His lips press against your ear, breathing out almost brokenly,

— I love you too, — he whispers, his voice thick with sentiment, — More than you know.

— You deserve this, James, — you say gently as you cradle James' face in you arms, sensing his distress. Gazing directly into his eyes, your own gleaming like two brilliant stars under the sparkling lights, — We both do.

— We both do, — he echoes, his voice soft and filled with wonder. He leans into your touch, savoring the warmth of your hands against his skin, relishing the feeling of your palms cradling his tired face as he closes his eyes in bliss.

And you deserve it more. You deserve more than him, in fact. You've been there for him through everything, a beacon of light in the darkness. You've loved him unconditionally, even when he felt like an unlovable monster, even when he pushed you away at the beginning. James's eyes begin to water, tears spilling down his cheeks. He doesn't try to stop them, doesn't try to hide his emotion from you, knowing you of all people won't judge him. For the first time in a long while, he feels truly free.

— I love you, — he repeats, his voice breaking slightly, feeling embarrassed of his wet cheeks suddenly.

As you give him butterfly kisses all over his damp face, lips gently fluttering against his skin, his heart rises with joy and awe. James can feel the sweetness of your breath, the softness of your rose petal lips, the tenderness of touch.

— I know it. And I do, too, — you whisper back, tasting the salt on his skin.

James knows this is the best present he could have asked for. Not the presents beneath the branches, not the decorations on the tree, but this moment, this bond, this emotion he hopes will last forever.

With his hands on the small of your back and his arms still around your waist, he goes to spin you around a little, which makes you laugh slightly. Inhaling the pleasant scent of your warm skin, he buryes his face in your dainty neck.

— Thank you, — he murmurs, his lips brushing against your nape, making you shiver and hum pleasantly, — For everything. For being here, for loving me, for giving me a reason to keep going.

You tighten you arms around him, holding him close, fingers tangling in his golden rye hair.

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Surgery

In which the Drifter requests medical assistance from Eris Morn.

Now with art from @h3xxthev3xx !!!

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

ACCESS: RESTRICTED DECRYPTION KEY: 7CP9SXMO2G$IKO-006 REP#: 062-DERELICT-AUDIO AGENT(S): AUN-326 SUBJ: RECENT VIP#1316 and ERI-223 INTERACTIONS - MULTIPLE RECORDINGS

RECORDING 77455.8 [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

“Hey, Moondust!”

“What is it, Rat?”

“Serious question for you. I’ve been thinkin’-”

“A challenge for you, I’m sure.”

“Aww… you ruined it.”

“Ruined what?”

“Can’t tell you now. Maybe later.”

“Clearly it wasn’t that important.”

“Oh it was, but it can wait.”

“Speak plainly. What do you want?”

“Nope. Not telling you now. The moment is gone.”

[END TRANSCRIPT]

...

RECORDING 77456.4 [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

“Hey, Three-Eyes.”

“I am returning your call. Your message said it was important.”

“Yeah, so, um… you do dissections, right? Cutting stuff up, like, medically? For science?”

“Generally, yes.”

“So you’d be good at using tweezers to pull bits of shrapnel out from being embedded in human flesh, right?”

“What have you done?”

“I was working on a grenade idea, more of a mine, really, and it worked! It worked real well, actually. I’m proud of it. Misjudged the range a bit, though. Made myself into a bit of a pincushion. Was wondering if you’d be willing to help me out.”

“You have a ghost. Use it.”

“Nope. Not gonna happen. But, if you’re busy, that’s fine. I’ll deal.”

“I… do you even have antiseptic there? Bandages?”

“Yeah, a bright light and tweezers too, just need you to be the hands.”

“I am on my way.”

[END TRANSCRIPT]

...

RECORDING 77456.5 [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

“Ow.”

Plink.

“Do you prefer I stop?”

“Nope I prefer you keep going.”

“Then stop squirming.”

“It hurts.”

“You have punctured over one third of your body with foreign objects. Of course it hurts.”

“Ow.”

Plink.

“Upon cursory examination, that appears to be a shell casing.”

“Yeah I threw some in there. Ow.”

Plink.

“And this one… a finishing nail? From carpentry?”

“Yeah, tossed that in there too, whatever I had lying around, really. Ow.”

“A metal screw. Not pointed. For fastening metal, most likely, but rather small. From electronics, perhaps?”

Plink.

“Probably. I wasn’t paying much attention when I stuffed the thing. Oh dammit.”

“This one is curved and deeply embedded. I am trying to be gentle but if I do not pull it out, it is just going to work its way in deeper. It looks like broken glass.”

“Yeah I put some of that in there too. Ah shit. Fuck!”

“I have extracted it.”

Plink.

“That was probably the worst one. Just a few more and this leg will be done. Do you need a break?”

“Nope. Let’s get it over with.”

“I would let you squeeze my hand through the pain, but I need both of mine to remove what you’ve done to yourself.”

“Yeah, I know, thought’s real sweet though. Sweeter than you normally are. You must feel sorry for me. Ugh.”

Plink.

“Have you decided whether or not you will ask me what you were going to ask me before?”

“Nope. Now is definitely not the time. Ow.”

Plink.

“I am curious as to what has you so reserved. You are not normally bashful.”

“Ow.”

Plink.

“I don’t… I don’t even know what that means. But that hurts.”

“I spoke too soon. This one is another that is much deeper than expected. You are bleeding quite a bit. I recommend we stop.”

“Is that the last one?”

“In this leg, yes. I have not yet examined the rest of you.”

“Get it outta me.”

“Can I convince you to reconsider your ghost?”

“No. You take it out or I will.”

“The cleanest way to remove this will be to cut it out of you.”

“Then do that.”

“Why are you so stubborn about this?”

“Because I am.”

“Will you at least get your ghost to give you something for the pain? I am hurting you considerably.”

“No.”

“What about alcohol?”

“I have plenty of that, yeah.”

“Where is it?”

“Second door on the left, back cupboard up high has the strong stuff.”

“Do you have a preference?”

“Whiskey.”

“In a glass?”

“Nah. This ain’t a glass kinda situation.”

“I will return.”

[END TRANSCRIPT]

...

RECORDING 77456.6 [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

“I told you I didn’t need a glass, Moondust.”

“This is for me, when I’m done. The rest of the bottle is yours.”

“I mean, the whole thing is mine, but fine, Doctor Three-Eyes, you can take your cut.”

“I shall, and the alcohol too. Now drink some of that while I clean up the rest of you and prepare the incision site.”

“You say such sexy things when you’re working. What? What’s that look for?”

“You are not normally this careless. What actually happened?”

“I am not in the habit of lying to you, Moondust. In fact, I don’t even know if I can. You see through everything. I do not think I have ever successfully convinced you something was true when it was not.”

“You are not in the habit of lying to anyone. You simply do not state the full truth, constantly deflect conversations, and allow people to believe whatever they want to be true without ever correcting them. It is what makes your methods of deception so effective.”

“You… you really do know me, Moondust. Ain’t no one ever been able to get in my head like you. Ow!”

“Drink more. You are still too sensitive for me to proceed.”

“Get me drunk, in a compromising position, and then stick things into me. I see how it is.”

“Keep insinuating that I’d behave in such a manner as to take advantage of you and you will be left to extract this distorted… spring? on your own.”

“I’m sorry. That was actually out of line. I trust you more than anyone. You know that. I was trying to make a joke and worded that way wrong. Didn't come out as flirty as it did in my head.”

“You are in considerable pain. “

“Don't forget the blood loss.”

“Drink more alcohol you… clumsy fool.”

“That has to be one of the gentlest insults you’ve ever thrown at me. You are being nice to me. What I was trying to say before was more that you are at this point literally trying to get me drunk. I might say anything.”

“Any confessions of undying love will not be held against you when you are sober.”

“Well there goes that plan out the window. How am I supposed to tell you of my undying love so you won't believe me when I'm drunk and I can deny it later if you don't feel the same way so it isn't awkward?”

“I have faith in your ability to be forthright and lewd without chemical assistance. And you have yet to show any reservations about being awkward in my presence so I doubt that is an issue. Also, drink.”

“Yes ma'am. Oh shit that stings.”

“Disinfectant usually does.”

“So let's say, hypothetically, I was truly madly deeply hopelessly in love with you, what would be the best way to go about getting you to love me back? Hypothetically.”

“Let me see the bottle. Not enough. Drink. Hypothetically, your premise is flawed, rendering the logic of the entire question unanswerable.”

“Come again?”

“There is an inherent assumption in what you have asked, hypothetically, which would itself be, again hypothetically, incorrect.”

“And what's that?”

“The assumption that I do not care for you already.”

“Wait what?”

“More. Drink.”

“Did you just say what I think you just said?”

“I said nothing. We were speaking hypothetically.”

“Ah, because I could have sworn you said you love me. Totally am starting to feel a buzz though so that may have been wishful thinking on my part.”

“Clearly someone who shows up in the middle of the night to remove foreign objects from your flesh because you are too stubborn to get help from your ghost does not have any affection for you in the slightest. You obviously imagined that. Do you have scissors?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I'm cutting off your pants.”

“Now I know I'm dreaming.”

“Hmmm…”

[END TRANSCRIPT]

...

RECORDING 77456.8 [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

“Are you ready?”

“Ready as I'll ever be to have a beautiful woman scar me for life.”

“You have more than one life. This is a non-issue.”

“Point.”

“I am beginning now.”

“Fuck.”

“Pausing for a moment here. I've got the object. I have a mostly clear path to pull it free.”

“Ok.”

“I'm going to have to wiggle it. This will be painful.”

“Eris Morn, mistress of pain, I submit to your will. Hurt me you beautiful three eyed witch.”

“Is it the alcohol or the pain that's making you so eloquent?”

“Probably both, plus that undying love.”

“Hold on to something that is not me. Three… two… one...”

[INTERMITTENT SCREAMING 43 SECONDS]

“Did you just freeze my ass with stasis?”

“To stop the bleeding, yes. You have needle and thread?”

“Yeah desk over there, bottom drawer.”

“And I'll find a pot within which to boil water within your kitchen area?”

“Yeah.”

“A clean pot?”

“I ain’t the one that leaves a burned wok lying around unusable for a month. I use my pots. They’re all clean. Trust.”

“Be still until I return.”

“You’ve got me frozen to the table. I couldn't move if I wanted to.”

“You're a resourceful creature. I'm sure you'd find a way if you wished to be free, but please don't.”

“I'm staying put. You say stay, I stay.”

[END TRANSCRIPT]

...

RECORDING 77456.8 [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

“You keep doin sweet gentle stuff like brushing your chin against the top of my head like that I’m gonna start thinking you like me or something.”

“It is difficult to express reassurance to you any other way when my hands are coated in your blood.”

“If I’m good will you nuzzle my head again? Or is it if I wiggle? What gets me more head nuzzles, Moondust?”

“Be still, Rat. You are messing up my stitches.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re weirdly good at sewing human flesh?”

“No, but I accept the compliment.”

“It barely even hurts where you’re sewing. You really are good.”

“Thank the alcohol.”

“I’m thanking you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You know, there ain’t no one else I trust like this.”

“I know. It is an honour to have your trust. One I do not take lightly. I know how rarely it is given.”

“If by rarely, you mean pretty much not at all, yeah.”

“Are you going to tell me what you were going to ask me?”

“Now’s really not the time.”

“I think we have cleansed the last of your blood off of most surfaces and ourselves.”

“You patched me up real good. You make a fine surgeon.”

“Usually my subjects are not still alive.”

“You gonna stay and finish that drink?”

“I had forgotten. Yes. I shall. But first would you like help to your bed?”

“You and me in my bed? I like this.”

“Avoid putting weight on that side. You can, and will, rip the stitches if you exert it too much before you’ve healed.”

“I like this side of you, all sweet and nurturing. If I’d known you’d be this nice to me I’d… nah that was stupid and I won’t be doing that again.”

“Thank you.“

“Still proud of how well it exploded though. Gonna give some of them to Devrim to put around the farm. Should very effectively shred anything that comes to mess with the civilians. I really didn’t think I was in range. You know how careful I am.”

“I know. Sit. I will return.”

“You gonna come back and cuddle me? I’d like that.”

“No, but if you wish, I will sit with you while I finish my drink.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

"I'd expect nothing less"

[SILENCE 8.25 MINUTES]

“Woman of my dreams, bringing me the bottle after putting me to bed. You really are the best, Three-Eyes.”

“Sit up.”

“Ok. Oh hello. You let me lie in your lap like this, you must feel sorry for me.”

“No. There is nowhere else to sit.”

“I disagree, this is half-way to cuddling right here. You like me. Ain’t no one sit like this with someone they don’t like.”

“I sewed your skin. That’s considerably more testament to me liking you than this, and this is at least comfortable for both of us.”

“It’s real nice. ‘Specially when you touch my face like that.”

“Hmmm…”

“I propose a toast.”

“To?”

“Why, to the most excruciating and intimate experience you and I have shared to date. The night Eris Morn sewed up the Drifter after he blew himself up.”

Clink.

“Hmmm…”

“You like it?”

“It tastes like… wood and paint thinner.”

“That’s just the first few sips. Flavour changes as you go.”

“Hmmm…”

“You should visit my bed more often, Moondust, it’s nice.”

“If you wish I will return tomorrow and change the bandages to make sure you aren’t getting infected.”

“I’d like that. You know… you could… stay.”

“And sleep with you in your bed?”

“Yeah. Don’t tell me that doesn’t sound real nice to you too. Not when you’re running your fingertips through my hair like that, like you’re already considering it.”

“Perhaps now is the time to ask me what you were going to ask me?”

“You sure those eyes don’t give you mind reading powers?”

“One does not need to read your mind, when they can read your body language, and between the lines of what comes out of your lips. You have not been discrete.”

“No, I have not. But, if you already know what I was going to ask you, what’s your answer then?”

[SILENCE 3.75 MINUTES]

“That… is worth getting blowed up for.”

“Please do not. Multiple lacerations and shrapnel from improvised explosive devices are not a prerequisite for my affection.”

“Can you let me know what the pre-”

“The pre-”

“The p-”

“You know, Moondust, it’s been a very long time, literally longer than I can remember, since someone was able to make my head spin with just a few kisses.”

“That is more likely being caused by a combination of shock, blood loss and alcohol.”

“Nah. Had all three lots of times. This is all you.”

“You’re trembling.”

“Yeah, it happens.”

“Let me get you under the blankets.”

“I ain’t cold. It’s just you feel so good. You feel so fucking good. Wait, where you going?”

“To take off my boots. Move over and get under the covers so that I may join you.”

“Oh hell yeah, you’re just making all my dreams come true right now.”

“Be careful of your stitches or you’ll bleed all over both of us and your bed.”

“Worth it.”

“Behave yourself or I will leave.”

“Yes ma’am. Ah shit, Eris, I can’t handle how soft and warm you are when I’m this drunk. I’m gonna cry.”

“You are inebriated and injured and I am choosing to stay. Alcohol induced emotional outbursts are to be expected and are a reflection of your trust, which is precious to me. I consider it an honour to hold you as you cry.”

[END TRANSCRIPT]

[nectardaddy]

OH CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN  . . . single dad! meian + f!reader

                              DELETE DELETE DELETE 

✮⋆˙ notes/CWs - suggestive, 17+ to read, language, meian is insanely flirty, formatted differently than my usual so lmk if we like it! I probably won't stick to it but I like it in this instance :), not proofread bc I'm lazy sorry, dedicated to the wonderful, amazing, best friend forever @nekozaki who truly outdid herself for my secret santa gift so I'm here returning the favor!! you're amazing ellie thank you for being such a wonderful person and writer, I hope you enjoy <33

Re: today is awful  From: Meian Shūgo I can make your day 10 times better if you come over tonight ;)

The woman stared down at the email with baited breath, held it so long she thought she might get dizzy. Until finally a strangled breath passed her lips, filled her lungs before she swallowed harshly. Over and over, she read the sentence; over and over until her heart surged to her throat with her cheeks hot. 

He sent that to her work email. 

A cheeky habit the pair had, emailing each other. A nice surprise to see kind, often silly emails, throughout the day - sometimes he sent pictures from practice, but more often than not he sent terrible dad jokes - so she always replied. Normally, she would send an update about her day, and he would always reply with an endearing message back. But today was different, today was spicy; Meian had a fire underneath him and didn't mind the consequences. 

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she swiped away from the email; torn between wanting to smile and wanting to tear him apart for sending something like that. Her fingers were quick to find his contact and hit call, and she decided to draw and quarter him the moment he picked up. 

The man was at practice around this time, and she knew he had slinked himself away just to answer - which only made her more riled. He answered because he knew what the call was about, no doubt.

“You got my email, didn't you?” A coy question that made her stomach drop and twist in knots; the man had the unique affinity of leaving her breathless. “You miss me that much, sweetheart?” His voice was laced with a faux sense of sympathy, a teasing aura muddled behind a true care and compassion for the woman.

“You can't send shit like that through a work email, Meian!” A hushed tone as she put force behind the man's name, which only made a chuckle sound from the other end of the line. “Oh yeah, laugh it up, those emails are screened by the way. Let's not forget I work at a school.” 

“It wasn't even that bad,” he reasoned. “So put the family name away, I could've sent a lot worse.” 

“I bet you could've, jackass,” she rolled her eyes at his brashness. Her eyes flickered up to the closed door of her classroom, then to the clock on the back end of the wall. At least he knew the times when people weren't in her classroom, that was the only redeeming arc of it all. “Not the point though. Use your brain before you send an email like that again. Think to yourself: is this helpful, is this kind, will it get flagged by my girlfriend's work because I don't know how to contain myself?” 

Another chuckle, and she let out a loud groan. “Pretty hot when you use that tone with me,” he chided, she could practically hear him smirking through the line. “You should use it when-” 

“Dear god, don't finish that sentence right now.” She closed her eyes and groaned once more, and the twinge of exhaustion that settled upon her was apparent even over the phone. He frowned once the tone had shifted, although she couldn't see it. 

“Alright, alright, I'm sorry.” Spoken genuinely, with a small breath, before she heard him smile again. “‘Love you.” 

There was a small pause, one she could’ve excused as poor signal, but didn’t as she took a sharp inhale. The pair had just recently shared the intimacy of such words of adoration, pouring their hearts out on a drunken escapade that spilled over into the next day, and the day after that. The freshness of the statement still made her stomach fill with butterflies and her cheeks hot; for once, she was glad he wasn’t around to see just how flustered he made her. 

“I love you, too.”

She heard him hum just before the loud bang of a door swinging open on his end rang through. “I’ve been found,” he chuckled, “I’ll talk to you later, alright?” 

“Have fun at practice, Shū.” Instead of his own voice ringing through; however, another took its place. Farther back from the phone, as if they were in front of the man she wished to speak to, and loud - obnoxious. 

“Holy fuck is that your girlfriend? Let me talk to her!”

The click of the call ending was loud, and she only chuckled when she took the phone from her ear. 

3 new notifications from Shū ❤️🏐  never said I wouldn't text you though [image attachment] you should still come over 😏 I can make you forget all about your bad day

taglist (open, send an ask)

@causenessus @softpia @renardiererin @kodzu-ken @phoenix-eclipses

@wyrcan @honeekyuu @wakashudou @wolffmaiden @eggyrocks 

@yogurtkags @bakery-anon @totallytatum @mollyrolls @standcom 

@jadeoru @hyunteru @kameyyy @nekozaki @sandwhitches

@knightofwands-upright @angelichwv @a-girl-cant-decide-on-a-name @arusio

[nickeverdeen]

Mission Saved | Kate Bishop x fem!reader

Pairings: Kate x reader (romantic), Yelena x reader (family), Peter x reader (platonic), Kate x Yelena (platonic), Kate x Peter (platonic), Yelena x Peter (platonic)

Type of fic: Comedy, Fluff, Angst/Comfort

Warnings: Little out of character for almost everyone, light smut implication

Summary: It’s Christmas and Kate thought it wouldn’t be a big of a deal to leave you alone for them while she goes on a mission, but her two companions manage to open her eyes.

———————

The small apartment felt emptier than usual. You had just finished decorating the little Christmas tree you managed to squeeze inside, and as you sat down, your phone buzzed. It was Kate, her voice coming through with warmth but also with a tinge of something you knew too well—regret.

“I’m sorry, babe. I don’t think I’ll be home for Christmas,” Kate said from the other end of the call. You glanced at the tree, the lights blinking softly, and tried your best to hide the sadness in your voice.

“It’s okay, Kate,” you replied, forcing a smile she couldn’t see. “We can always make it up next year.”

But Kate wasn’t an idiot—she knew that this wasn’t just about “next year.” The disappointment was unmistakable, even if you didn’t openly protest. Before she could say anything, though, you hung up, leaving her staring at her phone in surprise. You had never done that before.

The next day, Kate found herself in a jet on the way to another mission, accompanied by Peter Parker and Yelena Belova. The ride was uneventful until Yelena, clearly bored, turned her attention to Kate, her eyes narrowing as she studied her friend.

“Did my sister break up with you?” Yelena asked bluntly, her tone lacking any hint of tact.

Kate’s heart sank at the question. “No, she didn’t break up with me,” she said, her voice defensive. Yelena’s bluntness had struck a nerve.

“Then why are you here?” Yelena pressed on, frowning. “Why aren’t you home?”

Peter, who had been quietly listening, gave Kate a confused look. “Yeah, it’s Christmas. Shouldn’t you be with your girlfriend?”

Kate stammered, trying to explain. “I—I mean, it’s just a mission. It’s not like a big deal, right?” She felt the uncertainty grow as she spoke, her words falling flat.

Yelena’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she exchanged a look with Peter. “Not a big deal?” she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “It’s Christmas, Kate. You left her alone on Christmas. Do you know how sad she’s been lately?”

Kate felt her heart drop, her stomach churning with anxiety. She had noticed how you’d been down lately, but she hadn’t realized just how much her absence was affecting you. Peter shook his head, his expression full of disappointment.

“Do you at least have presents for her?” he asked, hoping Kate had something planned.

Kate stayed quiet, her face flushing in embarrassment. Both Peter and Yelena groaned in frustration, exchanging exasperated looks.

“Okay, that’s it,” Yelena said, standing up and grabbing the communicator. “We’re holding off the mission. Backup will take care of it.” She turned back to Kate, her eyes softening slightly. “You need to go home and fix this.”

Peter nodded, giving Kate a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “She loves you, Kate. Just go make it right.”

As soon as they had the mission covered, Yelena set the jet’s direction back to New York, determined to help Kate save her relationship. The flight back was tense, Kate’s mind racing with fears that you might be done with her for good. Peter did his best to calm her down, reminding her of all the good memories you shared and assuring her that you still loved her.

When they landed, Kate hurried off, waving a quick goodbye to Yelena and Peter as she made her way to her car. She drove fast—too fast—earning herself a speeding ticket along the way, but she couldn’t care less. She needed to make this right.

Kate rushed through the stores, buying anything she knew you’d mentioned wanting—gifts she hoped would make you smile. When she finally arrived at your shared apartment, her heart sank at the sight. The place was quiet, the festive decorations feeling hollow without you there to enjoy them. She found you lying on your bed, petting Lucky absentmindedly, neither of you showing any sign of excitement.

“Hey,” Kate called softly, stepping inside with bags and a box of pizza in her hands. “I brought pizza for dinner.”

You looked up, surprised to see her here, but you didn’t move to greet her. Instead, you stayed on the bed, unsure of how to feel. Lucky, on the other hand, jumped up, wagging his tail as he ran over to greet Kate.

Kate’s heart ached at the sight of you, your usual warmth replaced with uncertainty. She put the bags down, her words spilling out in a rush. “I’m so, so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you. I’m a terrible girlfriend. Please, please don’t break up with me. I promise I’ll never leave you alone on Christmas again, or any other important day—”

You got up, crossing the room in a few quick strides, and pressed your lips against hers, cutting her off. Kate froze for a moment before relaxing into the kiss, her arms wrapping around you tightly.

When you finally pulled away, you gave her a small smile. “You’re forgiven, Kate. Just… don’t do it again, okay?”

Kate nodded, her eyes glistening with relief. “I promise.”

Slowly, the heaviness in the room began to lift. You both moved to the living room, exchanging gifts and decorating the tree together. You put on some Christmas music, the familiar tunes filling the apartment as you laughed together. Kate still felt a twinge of guilt, but seeing you smile made her feel a little better.

She had also picked up matching Christmas sweater pajamas for the two of you, and after dinner, you went to take a shower, changing into the cozy PJs afterward. When you returned, you found that Kate had set up the couch with fluffy blankets and pillows, your favorite movie ready to play. She handed you a mug of hot cocoa, her eyes soft as she watched you.

You smiled, your heart warming at the sight. “You really went all out, huh?”

Kate shrugged, a small grin tugging at her lips. “Only the best for you.”

You settled on the couch together, cuddled up under the blankets as the movie began. Halfway through, Kate took a picture of the two of you, sending it to Peter and Yelena with the caption: Mission saved.

A moment later, Yelena’s response came through: Did you get a head?

Kate choked on her cocoa, quickly typing back a no before turning the group chat off, her cheeks flushed. You looked up at her, curious. “What’s up?”

Kate shook her head, giving you a smile. “Nothing important.”

You snuggled closer, your head resting on her shoulder as you whispered, “Merry Christmas, Kate.”

Kate pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, her arms tightening around you. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

Lucky jumped up onto your lap, curling up and falling asleep as you both smiled, the warmth of the moment wrapping around you like a blanket. Despite everything, this was perfect—and Kate knew she’d never take it for granted again.

[sidesteppostinghours]

I need to stop finishing fics when i have to sleep. but anway. heres 1.3k words of f!chentega, plus a bit of unnamed sidestep for funsies.

Chen is cutting Ortega's hair.

They've both settled into her living room, a bottle of beer set on the table. She's buzzed, not drunk, just enough alcohol in her system to get the words flowing easier. Chen, ever responsible, hasn't touched a drop. He focuses on cutting and brushing, mechanical hands careful not to get the comb tangled in her wavy hair. Julia, meanwhile, is talking, but about what, she couldn't tell you. Half of her thoughts are elsewhere, eyes closed as she lets Chen work.

Cutting Ortega's hair has become their own little ritual. Every few months or so, whenever her hair became long enough to bother her, she would call Wei over to cut it down to length. Sometimes she returns the favour, though that mostly entails grabbing a razor and shaving until it was completely cropped. Not like this, where skills actually mattered to make the results look good.

It was suggested to her, uncharacteristically, by Chen. About a year or so after she first cut her hair, she was lamenting to him about how she missed having short hair. She was just talking– she didn't expect him to take it seriously, but about ten minutes into her rant he had looked up from where he was typing on his computer and asked, "Do you want me to cut it?"

She had given him a look. "You can do that?"

He shrugged. "I know some styles. I can make it look decent, at least."

"Are you sure?" she'd asked, still skeptical. Not that she wouldn't be grateful, but-

"You don't have to deal with the stylists anymore," he pointed out, and that had been that. She found out later on that he learned how to cut hair from his siblings. He would mostly do it on his brothers, though sometimes his sisters too, when the money was tight or his family didn't feel like heading to the stylist.

It's nice, sitting here and talking to him like nothing else matters. A moment of reprieve to catch their breath in the pressure bomb that is their lives. Julia cracks a joke, and Chen huffs in amusement, though he doesn't stop cutting. She takes another pull from her bottle.

Maybe one day she'll ask the questions she's been meaning to. They still haven't talked about whatever this is. Neither Chen nor Ortega are good with their words, and there isn't much that isn't already said by the pocket moments they spend watching eachother navigate the world. The look in other people's eyes when somebody calls Wei "he". The way the stylists purse their lips whenever Julia walks into the studio. The understanding was unspoken but mutual, though Ortega could never place what. Chen might be able to, but until she decides to ask, she wouldn't know.

She will. Someday. Just not today, sitting in front of her TV, talking about God-knows-what and content to let him work till he finally steps away.

"Finished."

She opens her eyes, not bothering to look at herself in the mirror though its propped up on the table next to the beer. They've done this enough times already that she knows it will look good. Instead, she watches as Chen puts everything away, combs, clippers, the works. She nabs the scissors from the table, spinning it on her finger. When he goes to grab them and finds nothing, he looks up and sighs, the corner of his lip twitching at her antics.

"Julia, you're going to stab someone's eye out."

"Hey, I can dodge scissors," she insists, looking at him innocently. "Can you, Marshal?"

His face is caught halfway between exasparated and unimpressed. She chuckles and acquiesces, handing the scissors for him to pack into his bag.

It's not often nowadays that Julia gets to spend time with Wei outside of the Rangers. He was always busy as the Marshal dealing with the mess she left behind, and when she wasn't busy at the HQ or fighting villains, she was twelve balls of yarn deep into her own investigations. The quiet moments were rare enough that it feels precious to watch him like this, walls down, for once without the furrow in his brow as he worked. It makes him look softer.

It makes him look handsome.

"Hey, Wei?"

He turns to face her, still holding the scissors. "Yes?"

Julia could be completely wrong about everything, of course. He could recoil the minute she cups his face, or push her away as she pulls him in. He could, but he doesn't, and his lips are warm when they meet hers. His breath tastes better than she thought. She doesn't know why she would think otherwise– Julia was the one drinking beer the whole time. She traces her thumb over one of the scars on his cheek, rough yet soft, and a part of her wonders what it would be like to run her tongue over it.

It's a beat or two before anything happens, long enough that she worries she really did misjudge. Then, ever so slowly, Chen settles a hand on her face, careful, almost afraid. Not even touching the hair he spent the past thirty minutes working on. His hand moves from her cheek down to her chin, gently tilting her head upwards to make it easier from where he's standing. Julia wraps a hand around his neck and brings him down lower, and he obliges like putty. No trace of the hard edges she'd come to see as his staple, just a tenderness she never remembers seeing in him before.

It's harder to break the kiss than she would like. Wei doesn't resist. He's still holding the scissors. She half expected him to have dropped it, but instead he's gripping them tight enough that she wonders if they'll break.

"Julia?" Brittle. Out of breath. Still looking at her lips at first, but then his eyes flit to the side of her face, and with a breath that's not quite a huff, he tucks a stray strand of hair she hadn't even noticed behind her ear.

"Thank you," she whispers, barely loud enough to be heard in the silence of her apartment. For being her friend. For being the only goddamn woman left in Los Diablos that really got her. For caring enough to keep her hair out of her face.

She says none of this. She just turns back around, not looking to see Chen's face as she takes another pull from her bottle.

———

"I think Chen has a crush on you." 

"Oh." She stops, looking at you with an expression you can't quite interpret. "You do." The words are careful, hesitant. It's not a question, but it's not not one either. 

"I do," you say, frowning at her reaction. It's not the explosive confusion you were expecting, more a quiet "oh, shit" moment as the ball drops. She hasn't even raised her voice yet. "I'm pretty sure he has for a while." 

"Did he...tell you that?" 

"Not in so many words, but he has his tells." 

"He does," she mutters, running a hand through her hair. There's a sigh punctuated by a string of quiet curses. 

"Did you already know?" you ask, narrowing your eyes at her. She didn't react the way you thought she would. Did she pick up on it? Has she just been ignoring it the entire time? 

"In a way," she admits, looking away to the coffee machine like she wants to make herself another cup. 

"Why haven't you done anything about it?" Knowing Ortega, she should've ambushed Chen the moment she suspected that was the case. 

"It's complicated." She shakes her head, dispelling whatever thundercloud was brewing behind her static shielded mind, then turns back to you with a smile. "Don't worry, I'll talk to him. In the meantime, you can tell me why you're here?" 

You can't help but frown. She's taking this too well for something to not be going on, but from the look in her eyes, you're not getting any answers right now. 

You'll find the time to pry one of them about it. Later. It's not a secret those two can keep away from you forever.