#auld lang syne fic

[intothemultifandom]

Auld Lang Syne || Chapter Two

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Chapter Two

"Don't tell Ms. Park."

Gyeong-Su watches you rummage through the drawers in the infirmary, torn between confusion and an odd sense of fascination as you swipe bandages, creams and other loose items into your bag.

"Assuming whatever is wrong with Hyeon-Ju can't be spread, I'll return everything to Ms. Kim later and apologise. And I'll take complete responsibility if anyone asks," you explain in a hushed voice.

"Not that I'm hoping things will go bad, but I think it'd be good to have some supplies on hand just in case, you know?"

Gyeong-Su bites down his grin when you look over your shoulder with an almost sheepish expression. As if suddenly struck by your nervous rambling.

Your cheeks are flushed, and your nose is crinkled and everything happening is so unlike you but still so cute that Gyeong-Su reminds himself to thank Bare-Su for shoving him after you when he did. Even if he's now involved in whatever this is.

Truth be told, if it were anyone else raiding the infirmary just now, Gyeong-Su would've intervened right away. Told them to stop what they were doing before alerting Ms. Park or Ms. Kim once she was back, but it's you.

You wouldn't be Vice President if you didn't have everyones' best interest at heart and didn't think things through.

And if what happened this morning with Hyeon-Ju has you rattled enough to gather some supplies for your class, just in case, than who is Gyeong-Su to stop you?

You said you'd return it later anyway and apologise to both the school nurse and your homeroom teacher, and maybe Gyeong-Su's a little biased, but you're not exactly the deceitful type.

Besides being smart and sensible, you're honest, kind and so very pret–

"–Don't worry VP., your secret is safe with me," he says finally, saddling up to your side and, daringly, plucking the tube of anti-sceptic cream from your hand to shove into his pocket. A show of camaraderie in this odd endeavour of yours.

"Still never thought I'd catch you stealing from school, though," he can't help but tease. "How scandalous."

Ms. Kim wasn't in here when you arrived, and neither was Hyeon-Ju.

You'd seen her loaded into the back of an ambulance, Ms. Kim likely helping her. So call it a split second decision, but you figured now was as good a time as any to get some supplies while you had the chance.

You were just lucky Gyeong-Su, somehow following after you, was the kind of person to trust first and then ask questions later.

"Is it stealing when I said I'd return it later?" you retaliate, lip beginning to curl.

"And since you're here, hiding some cream in your pocket, doesn't that make you an accomplice? If I'm stealing, what are you doing, huh?"

Gyeong-su swallows down the laughter that catches in his chest, surprised by the teasing lilt in your tone.

He doesn't argue back, though.

He's too fixated by the small, relieved, smile you flash his way as you resume your search.

When you slide back into your seat, Nam-Ra doesn't point out that you've come back with no cleaning supplies nor does she comment about how much heavier your bag is when you hook it back onto your side.

Instead, your very kind and very merciful Class President arches a brow that says I hope you know what you're doing before she turns back to her work, deciding not to bother.

It's expected of her, really, and for the first time since you've set out to befriend her, you're glad for it.

Because you're not sure how to explain what you did in the infirmary.

On the other side of the room, your accomplice doesn't say anything about the first aid supplies in your bag and in his pockets either when he settles back into his seat.

Gyeong-Su doesn't even tell Cheong-San, whose eyes flit between the two of you with an almost delighted glint in them which you firmly ignore, thinking over the risky gamble you just took.

You hope, if the supplies aren't necessary after all that you can apologise to your homeroom teacher and the school nurse in private.

Because if someone like Joon-Yeong or Dae-Su found out what you'd done, caught a whiff of the irrational fear behind your actions than you wouldn't hear the end of it.

You may be our Vice-President, you can imagine Joon-Yeong chiding you. But this is ridiculous!

Fortunately for you, Ms. Park isn't in class when you return so there was no need to explain where you'd gone off too.

In fact, when she returns (which is a lot later than you were expecting), she doesn't question why everyone is huddled in the groups that they're in or why most of the class is congregated around I-Sak.

If anything, she's more focused on grabbing the locked box containing all your phones, something not everyone notices.

"Can I have my phone back?" Na-Yeon asks, eyes beginning to narrow as she picks at her chipped nail polish.

Immediately, all eyes are back on her, but Ms. Park wouldn't be a teacher if she didn't know how to remain undaunted by the weight of your stares because she presses her lips into a thin line, clutching the box even tighter.

"I'll be deciding on whether to return your phones after lunch," she says finally, after a moment.

"I'll be meeting with the rest of the faculty to discuss what's happened, but given the delicate nature of this morning–it would be best for the school to address this situation first before I give you back your phones. This is so you don't prematurely give out the wrong information."

You understand her reasoning, of course, but you don't like it. And judging from the frowns from a few others, you're not the only one. But Ms. Park is the teacher, so what else can you do?

Slowly, your eyes drift from your teacher back over to Gyeong-Su who seems to be ignoring an inquisitive Cheong-San, and you find that if there's any consolation, it's that you don't have to hand in the supplies you're both carrying just yet.

Of course, it seems your luck has run its course because just when he turns back to meet your gaze, eyes sparkling in that see? I haven't told kinda way, Ms. Park calls out to you and Dae-Su as the bell begins to the ring.

"Can you two find something to clean up Hyeon-Ju's blood, please?" she asks, turning out the door before you can object.

Nam-Ra laughs lowly by your side as you splutter, because she's sadistic like that. In fact, you take what you said earlier back. Your Class President isn't kind or merciful. And you hope she can read it just as well on your face as you flick her ear when you pass her by.

Dae-Su waves you over to his table with a grin as you join him, laughing at the sour face you're making before you leave together.

And going on this unplanned excursion would've been fine, you think, if not for the fact that by the time you and Dae-Su do find the nearest custodian closet, that's when the screaming starts.

[owltrifecta]

i used to weave crowns. Van and Lottie spend the holidays together, December 1995. 6.3k words, rated T, lottievan friendship feat. a dash of taivan at the very end.

Part Two: New Year's Eve! Lottie's not having a great night. Van comforts her the best way she can: with a story.

"Do you remember when I was eleven," she murmurs, half to herself, "and I tried to run away from home?" She has no idea where she's going with this, but Lottie sniffs and nods, a little calmer at least, so Van keeps going. "I had no idea what I was doing," she says to the ceiling. It's painted hospital-ward white, so bright it hurts her eyes. "I was just...well, my mom and I had a fight." (Her mother, howling like something wild, throwing one of Dad's favorite coffee mugs against the wall, missing Van's head by inches. Van's eyes blurring with tears, turning her mother into a screaming smear.) "It was a whole damn mess," she continues. "I was pissed. So I packed some clothes and a toothbrush and my ratty old fox plush into a duffel bag and I hit the road."

[natandwandaseries]

An old NYE mini-fic from a few years ago, happy New Year everyone!

Auld Lang Syne: A Nat and Wanda Series Mini Fic

🎆🎇🎆🎇🎆🎇🎆

The cars pull up to Natasha’s chalet, glittering with icicles and snow. The Avengers climb out of the vehicles, all wearing their coziest winter wears, but covered by thick ski coats. The town is still decorated for Christmas, and the house smells like evergreen from the imposing tree by the fireplace, though the trees in the foyer, dining room, and kids’ room are not to be forgotten.

Peter and Cooper immediately run to the storage room holding various ski sizes, while Cooper adds that he thinks they should try snowboarding this year.

“You going to rent another helicopter?” Tony asks, putting down his suitcase.

“Only if Steve will do more than one run with me,” Natasha jests, elbowing her boyfriend.

Wanda walks with Lila, taking a large box from the little girl, which holds her new dollhouse of the compound, which just could not be left behind for the impromptu vacation.

“Laura and Clint each hold one of their youngest children, Nate finally sleeping after spending the flight racing up and down the isle of the private jet.

“I placed an order for Chinese food,” Pepper puts down her phone, “Do you think eight Pu Pu platters is enough?”

“No,” Laura takes a look at Clint and Steve, who are already digging through the fridge. “Better call back and make it twelve.”

The front door swings open, and Yelena strolls in the Sam and Maria.

“Sorry, our car got stuck in the snow,” Sam explains, taking off his hat and gloves. Natasha shoots Yelena a glare.

“Is very deep, Tasha,” Yelena blinks innocently, and then quietly adds, “It didn’t work anyway. I find someone in ski lodge for New Year’s kiss.”

Yelena, Wanda, Natasha, and the Barton girls heading into town, window shopping and picking up supplies for the evening. The streets are crowded with party goers, already filled with spirit of both varieties.

After a horse drawn carriage ride through the snow, and some pictures with fans, they make it back to the house. The front yard now houses a snowman and an igloo.

Inside, mulled wine is on the stove, and laughter fills the air as a game of Pictionary goes terribly wrong. Peter and Cooper’s noses and cheeks are bright red from the quick hit on the slopes, and both hold mugs of hot chocolate to warm their hands.

The Avengers continue to play games and laugh into the night, long after the Chinese food has gone cold. Lila and Nate sleep on the floor pillows, unable to stay awake any longer, while the TV begins the countdown.

“Ten, nine, eight,” They all join in. “Three, two, one!” Outside, fireworks explode into the night sky. “Happy New Year!”

“No New Year’s kiss, I should have gone to-“ Yelena is cut off as Lucky jumps up onto the couch, placing a slobbery kiss on her mouth. Yelena wipes her lips and picks up the bottle of vodka while everyone laughs, chugging it.

“Yelena,”

“Disinfectant,” she explains, putting down the liquor. They all crowd onto the back porch, overlooking the mountain, and see colors filling the sky as the world welcomes a fresh start.

“Happy New Year,” Natasha pulls away from Steve, hugging her daughter, “May it be the best one yet,”

(Side note: that is actually Aspen on NYE)

[zepskies]

Love Actually || Series Masterlist

Paring: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader

Summary: Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system. At least, you hope you can, before he meets the rest of your dysfunctional family on Christmas Day.

AN: I thought it was finally time I created a masterlist for Love Actually, since it became a mini series of its own within the Break Me Down-verse! Originally, it was just meant to be a one-shot, but I wrote the second and third parts when people requested seeing Ben interact with his girlfriend's family! 😂 That said, I hope you enjoy this little Christmas series, whether you're revisiting, or if you're new here! ❤️💚

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Romance, smut, and tinges of angst, but mostly a lot of romantic fluff and family feels.

Chapters:

Part 1: Humbug

Part 2: Season's Greetings

Part 3: Auld Lang Syne

 Series Complete!

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[chuellas]

Auld Lang Syne | You never thought you’d make it to the New Year after the events of this previous one, but here you are spending it with both new and old acquaintances.

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

Warnings | Fem!reader, mentions/consumption of alcohol, terms “Doll” & “Baby” used, Dazai makes a questionable decision, WC: 1.8k

A/N | I am so incredibly late to this but I’m a sucker for a good New Year’s kiss fic >.<

It’s strange to be celebrating after all that’s happened in the last year. There is certainly plenty to celebrate, but there’s also plenty to mourn over too. The feelings are conflicting, however, the more you drink the more you’re leaning towards the former. Maybe you’ve done enough grieving.

The other odd thing is the presence of the Port Mafia, in fact, the event you’re attending with your colleagues is being hosted by the very organization your president had previously declared an enemy. Sure, both the Armed Detective Agency and the Port Mafia had worked together in order to stop the catastrophe that was Fyodor Dostoevsky, but that was only circumstantial — “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” You had thought it was one of those situations, but maybe Mori and Fukuzawa saw a benefit of everyone working together.

It’s not often that you agree with Dazai, but the two of you are on the same page as you lurk in a corner, unhappy with the situation. You both should have taken a page out of Yosano’s book and faked being ill. Although you think if anyone deserves to play hooky this evening it’s her. The one truly jarring thing about this evening is just how many wary looks the two of you were getting. Most are being directed towards the former “Demon Prodigy” but considering your past with the Port Mafia, quite a few were directed towards you as well. 

“How far into the fall do you think someone would get before passing out from shock?” You side eye Dazai at his words, only to find he has turned around and is now leaning over the ledge of the highrise you're on gazing down at the street far below almost longingly with his champagne glass still in hand.

Normally you wouldn’t entertain his intrusive thoughts but you’ll take the morbid question as a distraction from the pair of bicolored eyes that have been glued to you all night, making your skin itch with anxiety. Beggars can’t be choosers, right? You turn your head to peer over the ledge yourself and let out a breathy snort.

“Would a fall like that even scare someone like you? Most people that fall from this height pass out from shock because of how scared they are.” You take a sip of your champagne, the back of your head burning from the hole being seared into it.

Dazai turns back to you with an exacerbated expression on his face. As if he isn’t the one that brought up the subject. This is what you get for humoring him instead of just continuing to side eye him like you usually do.

“I wasn’t talking about just myself!” The brunette looks like he’s about to protest more but he goes silent when something behind you catches his attention and suddenly his face shifts into a dangerously amused smile.

You shiver and it’s not from the cold. “What? Quit smiling like that, you’re freaking me out.”

“You have an admirer.” He practically sings the words and you’re once again acutely aware of the gaze that’s been almost glued to you all night. 

“I’m quite aware that he’s been staring but thanks for reminding me, Osamu.” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm as you scowl and take a generous sip of your champagne, finishing it off, while Dazai’s grin only widens. 

Chuuya has been watching you all night. He tried approaching you earlier, thinking he could just smooth talk his way back into your good graces, but you pointedly avoided him until he got the message. You didn’t want to talk to him until you were inebriated enough to not care. So far you’re at 3 glasses of champagne and the thought of the ginger still irritates you. The thought of him plotting with Dazai and packing up to go to Europe and try to play hero still pisses you off.

Dazai got a mouthful from you when he got back. He was apologizing to you for weeks before you finally let up and forgave him. But Chuuya has apparently been too busy with Port Mafia matters to put in more than half of the work Dazai did. 

The Port Mafia executive has a long way to go until you’ll willingly give him your attention. 

The problem is, you don’t want to be mad at him. You want to ring in the New Year with him. You want him to be your last kiss of this year and the first kiss of next year. You want to be securely in his arms, the place you feel the safest in this world, when the year starts. You want to start it off right. 

You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, too stubborn and upset to approach him but internally yearning for his touch and attention.

You should have just stayed home. 

Dazai’s cinnamon eyes flit between you and what you can only assume is his former partner behind you. You watch as something washes across his face in a short wave, something so small that you would have missed it entirely if you didn’t know Dazai as well as you do. Guilt. He still feels guilty for several things but you think this time specifically is for taking Chuuya away from you and not cluing you in on any of their plans. Dazai would never in a million years admit that, though.

So instead he says, “Y’know…I’ll never understand how the slug ever managed to captivate a girl as beautiful as you, but I do understand just how much you mean to him. Maybe you should cut him some slack, for both of your sakes.” 

His words elicit another side eye from you, this one far more suspicious than the others. He puts arms up in mock surrender, a goofy grin spreading across his face when he looks behind you again with a nod. He’s up to something but before you can figure out what it is, Dazai is hoisting you up and unceremoniously tossing over the railing.

You’re falling, plummeting to the ground and suddenly his question from earlier made sense. You shouldn’t have entertained him, you should have scolded him and walked away. This was another one of their plans. Somehow you weren’t scared, you knew he would come catch you. He always did. 

Your body, however, didn’t have as much confidence in Chuuya as your mind did. You feel an unsettling queasiness wash over you, waves of panic thrashing inside your stomach. Vertigo is surely fast behind with the way everything is moving around you in a blur that’s disorienting. But before it can barrel over you, a familiar sensation spreads across your skin, it’s warm and familiar. Almost like home.

Gentle, yet firm hands grip onto you and slowly halt your fall to a stop and suspend you in the air. 

“I’ll kill that damn Dazai for pushing you over like that. Are you ok? Didn’t hurt yourself while falling did you?” His voice drips with concern and you can practically see the crease in between his brows. 

Somewhere in your free fall you had screwed your eyes shut. You hadn’t even realized you’d done it or why. Maybe to try and settle the heavy nausea you were experiencing or maybe because there was that small part of you that was whispering in your ear that Chuuya wouldn’t make it to you in time. 

You take in a stuttered breath, grip instinctively tightening on his arms as he shifts gravity again so the two of you are standing comfortably on the side of the high rise you were just pushed off of.

You open your eyes to find one brown and one blue eye watching you cautiously. “...You didn't put him up to this?”

Your tone is accusatory and Chuuya flinches at the implication. A flash of hurt displays on his features before he looks away with a frown. 

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d go along with a plan that insane. I know you’re pissed at me but c’mon, Doll, d’you really think I’d risk your safety like that?” 

The answer is ‘no, of course not’ but the words get caught in your throat for some odd reason. You try to form the words but your vision blurs and throat spasms. When you finally get your lips to part a hiccup spills from them and you find yourself crying. Your fingers sink further into his arms, biting into the cloth. 

Gloved fingers are instantly caressing your face, wiping away at the tears spilling from your eyes. You lean into his touch, finally giving into him. You come to the realization that Dazai was right, of course he was right, you hate that he usually is. You’re never going to hear the end of it from him. You know he’s watching you admit to yourself that you miss Chuuya more than you’re upset with him. 

You melt into the Port Mafia Executive and let his ever present warmth sooth your distress, within moments you’re calmed down enough to form an actual response. 

“I know you wouldn’t.” You look up at the ginger and smile weekly at him. “Make sure to thank Dazai before you kill him, he pushed me, quite literally, to forgive you.”

Chuuya rests his forehead on yours and lets out a relieved but tired sigh. “I missed you-”

He’s cut off by the whole city erupting in cheers and fireworks going off, a signal that the new year has started. Chuuya searches your eyes for a quick moment, looking for any possible opposition to what he was about to do. He doesn’t find any.

The executive is quick to lean in and tenderly place his lips atop yours in the sweetest kiss you think you’ve ever experienced. It’s gentle but filled with an emotion you can’t quite place. Before you can figure it out, Chuuya is pulling back with a smile.

“Happy New Year, Baby.” 

Your smile is wide when you reciprocate the sentiment. “Happy New Year, Yacchan.”

The ginger opens his mouth to say something else but is cut off once again, this time by a mess of tousled brown hair peering over the ledge again and a sing-song tone. “You guys owe me! I think I should receive a New Year's kiss too!”

You watch in amusement as Chuuya’s brow twitches and his jaw clenches. “How ‘bout you kiss my damn fist you jackass!”

Dazai sticks his tongue out at him, taunting him like always — knowing exactly which buttons to push and you can’t help the light laughter that escapes your throat. You missed this. You missed them, despite how much they make you worry. The familiarity of it all spreads a warmth through your chest and you can’t help the feeling that this will, in fact, be a good year. Maybe the best you’ve had in a while.

[seiwas]

some of my fave bakugo fics in honour of bakuday 🥺 (most, if not all, of these are in ao3! which is why i'm listing them. other fave fics of mine that can be found on tumblr will be reblogged!)

you can find other bakugo fics i love in my tag: #katsu

i like to call myself wound but i will answer to knife - kirketeer enemies to lovers, requited unrequited love, kind of love triangle

surrender (whenever you're ready) - ofmermaids florist reader, canonverse, slowburn

on my way (to you) - ofmermaids 5+1, canonverse, time travel

and you take me the way i am - willowser assistant reader, slice of life, bakugo is bad at feelings

how to set fires - hawnks strangers to lovers, canonverse, food as love language

organic chemistry - kirketeer codependency and unlearning it, mutual pining, college au ish

here is my hand that will not harm you - natsuonii bodyguard au, mild violence, mentions of scars

in the dark of the morning, you promise me the sun - kirketeer character death (not the main characters), grief/mourning, slow burn

dry spell - willowser established relationship, semi-public sex, miscommunication

for auld lang syne - some-kindofgnome canonverse, near-death, drinking

you feel like home (you're like a dream come true) - willowser light angst, kind of exes to lovers?

i do not know if i should hold you or eat you - katsukiz hurt/comfort, soft sex

love to say this to your face: "i love you only" - willowser dragon king bakugo, arranged marriage, a little drunk

[bluejayblueskies]

auld lang syne | theinkwell33

[Image descriptions in alt text]

For the 2024 Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day event held by the @renegadeguild Discord server, I bound @splitting-infinities Malevolent fic auld lang syne, an AU where John is a cordyceps fungus that hops from host to host, consuming their hearts, and jumps to Arthur who no longer has a heart and gets stuck. It's a wonderful story about self-discovery, family, and what makes us human, and I highly recommend it! It was a pleasure to bind 💜

For this bind, I decided to go with a simple and elegant two-color design, focusing on black and gold as those are colors commonly associated with John. The cover is black bookcloth with a strip of gold bookcloth in the middle, and the title and cover design is painted on with black paint. I knew from the beginning that I wanted to do a design that also centered around graphics of cordyceps mushrooms, and I found a set of three images that worked perfectly! And of course, continuing my adventures in trimming and painting edges with some black book edges here. I tried a new press for trimming this time that I'm not 100% sold on, but I think if I got some clamps to secure the press to a table or desk so it doesn't slide around, it'll work out quite well in the future!

[jaystephevents]

JaySteph Winter Solstice

December 21, 2024

Happy fall, JaySteph Nation!

As we celebrate Spooky Season, it’s time to start thinking about our next JaySteph Event - JaySteph Winter Solstice! This is a one-day event with prompts encompassing winter and all December holidays. BUT, your work doesn’t have to be specifically about winter or a holiday as long as it fits the prompt!!

Our prompts this year are SONG TITLES - whatever title you pick is the TITLE OF YOUR FIC or ART! You just need to craft your work to fit the title - even if, as we said, it doesn’t relate specifically to a holiday.

For example, we picked One Love as our Kwanzaa song prompt to represent the first principle of Umoja (Unity), but your work doesn’t have to be about Kwanzaa if you don’t want.

Deck the Halls could be about a literal crime busting fight! What Child is This? Do I hear accidental baby acquisition, anyone? Or kid fic? Deaging? Silent Night = horror fic? Stakeout ? Hiding together in a closet from baddies?

The Longest Night of the Year is our Winter Solstice song prompt, but maybe the night just FEELS long because ….. ??? They’re stuck at a gala? Jason’s bleeding out and Steph doesn’t know if he’s gonna make it? It’s up to you!

Please reblog to help spread the word!

Read more for all the Event nitty gritty and text version of prompts.

As always, your work must be brand new and JaySteph-centric. Your JaySteph can be platonic, romantic, or NSFW, but their relationship with each other should be the central focus of the fic. We don’t allow JaySteph-poly ships so we can keep the focus solely on JaySteph, but side poly ships are fine. Or, if they’re dating other people and it’s a platonic JaySteph fic, that’s fine too, as long as the main focus of the fic is the JaySteph platonic relationship.

This is a ship-friendly, censorship-free event open to all. Tags will be added to event reblogs for #Batship and #Dark so people can filter those works out if needed. We want this event to be accessible to everyone, regardless of triggers.

Send us an Ask with any questions!

❤️💜Text-version of Prompts💜❤️

One Love

Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel

The Longest Night of the Year

Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!

What Child is This?

Silent Night

Deck the Halls

Ding Dong Merrily On High

Santa Baby

You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch

Blue Christmas

All I Want for Christmas is You

What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?

Auld Lang Syne

Please reblog to help spread the word!!

@jaysteph-server @fuckyeahjaysteph @dc-fandom-events

Thanks so much to @skylarkblue for our awesome event banner and prompts graphic!!

[iftheshoef1tz]

Summary: Three snapshots of Eris, pianist, and Azriel, a cellist who Eris thinks he loves. Written for @erisweekofficial 2024, Day 4: Traditions | Hounds.

Rating: T

Pairing: Eris/Azriel

Notes: This is set in the same universe as Auld Lang Syne, though you don’t really need to read that one to understand this one. As the tags say, there are some references to alcoholism, including drinking in inappropriate places/times, as well as graphic depictions of music theater majors. I’m not sorry. Special thanks to @queercontrarian for reading this over quickly for me, and thanks to the very busy @acourtofladydeath for still taking the time to create the beautiful banner for this fic!

The competition weekend begins, strangely, with Mor. She hasn’t spoken to him in nearly a decade, not since the lengthy court battle and Beron’s definitely-not-suspicious death.

It’s the past, and therefore Eris doesn’t bother with it.

But Mor, she straddles the line between that non-existent past and his present when she turns to look at him. The first time she does it, he ignores her, assuming it was a passive-aggressive glare. Yes, how dare Eris Vanserra walk the hallowed halls of this conservatory; how dare he step into this sacred rehearsal hall with a face that dares to look so much like his father’s!

The second time she does it, it’s impossible to ignore. She’s doubling piccolo on this concert, and her seat is closest to Eris and the piano. She hooks her left elbow over the back of the chair at the same time she crosses her legs, one long leg hooking over her knee. Her golden hair spills over her bare arms and the flute in her hand.

Read the rest on ao3.

[discordantwords]

Thank you so much for the tag @therealsaintscully!

How many works do you have on ao3? 48! 30 for BBC Sherlock and 18 for The X-Files.

What’s your total word count? 924,659 (whoa, that's a lot of words)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? (Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea White Knight Incidents with Dogs, Curious and Otherwise Another Auld Lang Syne The Dead Detective

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I try to. I'm not always as on top of it as I intend to be. I find comments tremendously meaningful and I at times get emotional while reading them. They are important to me. I reread them often.

I often fear that I'm a poor conversationalist and overthink my responses, which can tend to freeze me up.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Most of my long fics have happy endings.

The Pillar upon Which England Rests is my ode to Mrs. Hudson. As she and John are grieving Sherlock's fall, she tells John all about how she and Sherlock first met. I don't think of it as a particularly sad story, but I suppose that ending counts as angsty, as Sherlock's eventual return is not addressed in the story.

I guess the shorter, more horrorish ones have angsty (or at least uneasy) endings.

Nothing Happened in Belarus has S4 Sherlock, in the throes of his breakdown, somehow briefly traveling through time and encountering S1 John, who cares for him. It's a brief reprieve for him in the midst of a personal hell, but there is no resolution. When he returns to his own time, he is still forced to face what's coming next.

At the end of Leaves, Sherlock and John have either successfully defeated the bloodthirsty plant that has invaded their flat, or they're being digested by it. I leave that decision up to the reader. :)

The Web has Sherlock returned from his time away and reunited with John, but there is a part of him that will always remain haunted and deeply paranoid.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Most of them, heh. I like to leave my characters in a good place after putting them through hell.

I guess I'd have to say White Knight? I still get a little giddy when I think about the way Sherlock proposes at the end of that one, and how happy and free they both are after the crushing weight of misunderstandings and grief has fallen away.

Whirlwind has a pretty joyful ending, too.

Do you write crossovers?

I haven't written a crossover, but I have done a few fusion fics. The Dead Detective is a fusion with Jumpin' Jack Flash. Whirlwind is a fusion with Twister. Out There is a fusion with The X-Files.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really. Most responses on AO3 have been warm and supportive. I have gotten a few unnecessarily vicious comments on some of my ficlets here on Tumblr, but I do my best to ignore those.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Most of my smut tends to be of the R-rated variety, because I'm frankly just not very good at writing it.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes, sort of, but I don't believe it was done maliciously and I don't intend to call attention to it.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not. I'm open to the idea, but I honestly don't know if I'm cut out for it. I think my tendency to wing things and my utter lack of a consistent writing schedule would drive a potential writing partner mad.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

Mulder and Scully were my first true fandom love. I love Sherlock and John equally as much, if not more.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

There are quite a few WIPs on my hard drive that may never see the light of day. As far as posted fics, my Sherlock/Knight Rider fusion probably won't be finished.

What are your writing strengths?

I like to think that I'm pretty good at capturing character mannerisms, and writing from a perspective that lets the reader feel what the POV character is feeling.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm not all that impressed with my smut writing abilities.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I steer clear of it. Although Google translate can be helpful, IMO there are too many opportunities to make embarrassing or inadvertently offensive mistakes.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The X-Files

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I really enjoy the character dynamics between Hannibal/Will in Hannibal and Lestat/Louis in Interview with the Vampire. I think I'd have a harder time getting into their heads than I do with Sherlock and John, so I'll probably just continue admiring them from afar for now.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

This is such a hard question! I'm probably proudest of the work that went into Out There, but I have a huge soft spot for The Pillar upon Which England Rests and (Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea.

If anyone out there would like to share your thoughts on some of the things you've written, please do! I'll also tag @thetimemoves @arwamachine @raina-at @vulpesmellifera @iheardyou @totallysilvergirl @khorazir

[intothemultifandom]

Auld Lang Syne || Chapter One

Pairing: Han Gyeong-Su x Reader

Summary: Class 2-2's Vice President: VP.

In which the sensible Vice-President does their best to keep their little band of survivors alive.

Tags/Warnings: reader insert, character death, swearing, canon divergence, pre-relationship, angst + more

Chapter One

Harabeoji lays on the hospital bed, unaware that the world continues without him.

You're his only visitor today. The room is cold, and his heart monitor fills the silence since you won't.

You don't know what to say, where to start.

Do you tell him that he needs to wake up? That since he fell sick, your step-grandmother used his coma as an opportunity to move everyone from your family home (sans yourself) and that her son, your half-uncle and proxy, is already making deals to have the line of succession passed to him instead?

Seoul is too far from Hyosan for you to visit him, to remind him to keep fighting and to keep vigil at his bedside, but they moved his treatment here anyway. Have already brought themselves a sky-line apartment right in the centre.

If you told him that they've left you alone, that they've left you behind, would that be enough to wake him up?

On your lap, you've brought a collection of Western comic books you've been reading to practise your English and since you need to fill the quiet somehow, you pick one out to read:

The Walking Dead, it says.

If Harabeoji finds your pick distasteful, he doesn't say.

(You wish he would).

In a class-room setting, the Vice-President is meant to ensure that there is strong communication between the Class Reps and the President. When the President is absent, it is up to them to act in their stead. To lead the class through ever-changing situations with a clear head and mature outlook.

At times, you enjoy being responsible for such tasks. The position gives you a sense of purpose on days when you feel set adrift, makes you feel more present as you tend to your responsibilities and resolve minor conflicts. Those are the days you feel like an ordinary student, responsible only for the happenings of your class.

Other times however, it's a bitter reminder. Of Harabeoji who's counting on you to do good, of the dynasty you're set to inherit in his name and of the interests you've had to sacrifice in favour of activities more appealing for Universities overseas. Like being Vice-President.

Joon-Yeong insists you should have been Class President when the positions are first announced. It's unfair Nam-Ra gets the position because of her Mother's bribery when you're not only first in class but have given up more to commit to your school's night self-learning programme and your new role.

He says it with an air of indifference as he crosses his arms, but his eyes burn behind his glasses. You think it's because losing the Presidency to a friend will make the loss hurt a little less, and because it would excuse you from not hanging out with him and the others as much as you used to.

You don't point it out to him, though. Joon-Yeong has to come to his own conclusion for things to stick. Instead, you make a show of pointing your finger right at his nose as you order him–and the others watching–to call you "VP" henceforth.

It's not much, but if you show that you're not upset with the position you're given then your friends have no grounds to be angry on your behalf. You just hope that overtime, they'll come around about the Class President you do have in the meantime.

You did in the end, hadn't you?

Speaking of your Class President, Nam-Ra always complains about the music playing on your headphones whenever she slides into her seat next to you, but it doesn't stop her from leaning over your textbook to assess your work.

You respond by turning your volume all the way up so the melody of Auld Lang Syne rattles your ears, mouth curling when she nods begrudgingly at your answers.

There isn't much she'll find to begin with, but it's routine; Nam-ra grumbles about your music in the morning as she looks over your work (way better than her rhythm techno beats, mind you), and you pretend this isn't her odd way of showing her friendship.

Silently, you offer her a piece of Poki from your half-opened bag, your own show of friendship, and she accepts the treat after a long, drawn out moment. Even though she doesn't say anything, you can see her face soften in the corner of your eye, and beyond the obvious, you're glad that she's not actually mad about your song choice for today.

"Wake me up when Ms. Park comes," you say after a moment, falling into your normal position as you cross your arms over your textbook, cushioning your head as you close your eyes. Nam-ra predictably grumbles at your command, but doesn't make a move to disturb you.

And drifting off, you hope that today is another calm day.

It's not.

Hyeon-Ju's bloodied entrance is too shocking for the day to be anything but calm.

Even when she's whisked away by Ms. Park, Su-Hyeok and a few others to the infirmary, the shock gives way to unease and the feeling settles under your skin before you can do anything about it. It makes you itch to do something, anything.

Ms. Park instructs you all to resume studying but hearing what Hyeon-Ju said and seeing her state in general, more than half the class group together to brainstorm what happened between your classmate and Mr. Lee.

Nam-Ra seems to be the only one actually studying and while it looks like you are too, with all your pens laid out and your head tilted down to your book, you're actually listening in on the chatter around you. Pulling out your stationary was just a show of solidarity, if anything.

From what you gather, no one seems to say anything that corroborates your unease or the sense of foreboding that's taken root. Dae-Su's idea is perverse, Wu-Jin is quick to slap him on the back of his head, and I-Sak returns with a troubled face before the others can chime in.

At once, everyone turns their attention towards her, even Nam-Ra, but the weight of someone's stare grows heavy on the side of your face so you turn to other side of the room instead, catching Gyeong-Su's gaze just as he snaps his head back to I-Sak.

You're sure he knows you caught him staring at you because the tips of his ears are pink, and his posture is rigid as he faces the front. If you weren't feeling so agitated, your skin still itching, you'd smile at his embarrassment.

How long will he wait before he confesses?

"–What happened? Is Hyeon-Ju okay?" Wu-Jin chimes. He kneels next to I-Sak when he asks, and you begin tapping your finger on your desk when she speaks, pulled back to the matter at hand.

When you saw Hyeon-Ju last, the poor girl was delirious as she stumbled into the room, eyes fluttering as she tried to stay awake. Her face was bloodied, her hair was matted and when she collapsed by Ms. Parks' feet, she could could barely move.

However, the Hyeon-Ju I-Sak left in the infirmary sounds like a completely different person.

Having to be restrained as she thrashed on the bed. Hissing. Biting.

She scratched Ms. Kim, I-Sak says.

There's a cold sweat running down the back of your neck the more you imagine it, different scenarios flitting through your head in quick succession, but when I-Sak mentions some weird shot Mr. Lee injected her with, the agitation you feel reaches a crescendo.

You stop tapping, deciding that you need to see things yourself.

Nam-Ra glances at you from the corner of her eye, and you hope the look you flash her doesn't belie your nerves.

It turns out though that the Class President must consider you more of a friend than you realised (the kind of friend that you cover for), because her mouth twists like she knows you're up to something but doesn't push.

"I'll find a mop to clean up the mess," you lie, grabbing your bag.

"Hurry back," is Nam-Ra's cool reply.

Next Chapter >> 

This is a multi-fic story. 

I intend to post this story on Wattpad and Ao3 shortly. Maybe even Quotev and FF.net, too. 

[insert-witty-user-name-here]

Lokius Fic Recs

Less than 10K words, Season Two Edition

Admittedly, I am very behind reading all the fabulous fics that came out after season 2 so I’m sure I’ve missed some gems. Nonetheless, sharing a few of my favorite post-season two Lokius fics, less than 10K words.

See my less than 10K season one Lokius fic recs here. And Lokius multi-chapter fics here.

If you’re looking for…

Angst with a hopeful ending (aka post S2 reunions or near reunions)

Come back. even as a shadow, even as a dream. by harleygirl2648- Loki and Mobius, steal what moments they can together following the events of season two and eventually find a way to make it permanent.

time will pass, darling (but my feelings, they won’t) by burnthatbridge- Another! Loki and Mobius steal what moments they can together following the events of season two and eventually find a way to make it permanent. (Okay this one is just over 15K words).

Serendipitous by emilieee- Mobius dreams of all of the moments over the centuries that he had forgotten. Meanwhile, Loki tries to find his way back to Mobius.

auld lang syne by Mirilya- Mobius experiences the first New Year's Eve that he can remember… and finds something worth celebrating.

Purpose Shared by tishae- Loki hears Mobius across the timelines and finds his way back.

Dream of me by Tears_and_smiles- (explicit) Mobius falls asleep in his motel bed and disappears into his dreams to find Loki. When he gets there, they share a night of pleasure.

with, no withouts by dinosuns- Sylvie and Mobius deal with the aftermath of Loki’s decision and begin to make a plan to get him back. (I remain delusional/hopeful that this fic will be finished. Regardless, the first chapter is spectacular on its own).

Their Burden to Bear by PerpetualDaydream- listed as Sylkius but vague to ship whoever you like. Focused on Mobius and Sylvie finding Loki and deciding to save the multiverse together.

Tell Me Some Things Last by Tears_and_smiles- Sylvie and Mobius work through the aftermath of Loki’s decision. Lots of healing vibes (and Sylvie and Mobius friendship my BELOVED).

Angst with little comfort, but beautiful:

Off The Beaten Path by ChaosAndOrder- Mobius deals with the aftermath of Loki's choice and makes one of his own. No reunions here but a gorgeous character introspective with a hopeful ending.

After They Left by ebeatrice- told from an OC POV, a TVA agent reflects on how much quieter the TVA is now after they take over Mobius’ old desk.

Centuries by TheVulcanBobDylan- (explicit) Throughout the centuries, Loki seeks comfort in the arms of different Mobius variants.

I know what I want by beandogger- (explicit) During one of his timeslips, Loki shares one more moment with Mobius before facing his fate.

Season two finale canon divergent fix its:

Let Us In by DewdropReader- How it should have ended IMO. Loki is convinced that the only way to save everyone he loves is to carry the burden of the multiverse. Sylvie and Mobius aren’t willing to allow it. What if instead of sacrificing himself, Sylvie and Mobius were able to stop Loki and were able to convince him to let them help. (I’m a big believer in The Power of Friendship endings and will always crave them.)

Kissed You Atop The Ferris Wheel by kittyhazelnut- Loki accidentally freezes time. He and Mobius share (no spoilers) a ✨moment✨. The next time Loki timeslips, things are different.

Missing Scenes, Season Two:

Portraits of your fidelity by Aliencritters- After the events of episode S2, ep1, Mobius convinces a panicking Loki to calm down and take a much needed break.

remember me (for centuries) by bookinit- Loki and Mobius throughout his timeslips.

No Time to Rest by startingatmidnight- (explicit) After the events of S2, ep1, Loki and Mobius sleep together, literally and otherwise ;). (I am obsessed with Mobius’ characterization here. Snarky, manipulative yet deeply caring Mobius, my beloved)

once more to see you by thumbbird- canon divergent S2, ep5, a Don/TVA!Loki fic! Loki has lost TVA Mobius and is determined to make a life for himself with the only Mobius left—timeline Single Dad Don. But how long will Don remain ignorant of the strange circumstance that brought them together? Obsessed with this pairing!

Fluff:

Camellia by 19960821- Settled on the timeline with Mobius, Loki thinks about how far they've come while gardening.

The Veins and The Branches by Love_is_Green- Loki reflects on his and Mobius’ journey while listening to a thunderstorm.

Lokius Fluffuary by blackbirdofasgard- okay I technically haven’t read these ones yet but I adored blackbirdofasgard’s last Fluffuary fics so including their latest here too.

And that’s it for now! My to-read list is miles long so excited to dig in more to the fabulous post S2 fics.

Happy reading!

[randomfoggytiger]

"Pause to Take Stock of Each Precious Moment Before It Passes"

*-*-*-*-*

A 2025 New Year's drabble.

*-*-*-*-*

“Ahhhhhhh,” he heaved, rusty and deep, creaky and contented. “Couch.”

“Couch?” Scully let him carry her-- just this once-- into the living room. Nevertheless, she sank with Mulder onto the old springs pressing through refurbished leather, brows pinched skeptically. “Why not the bed?”

 He leaned in for his New Year's peck, smiling as the tv exploded in celebration.“‘For auld lang syne, my Dear’.”

“Hm,” she hummed, fond-- slapped a nefarious pillow away from the crook of her back until Mulder took the hint and came to her rescue. The pillow and half the blanket vanished somewhere behind them. “Sap.”

*-*-*-*-*

Thanks for reading¬

Enjoy!

Tagging: @today-in-fic.

[zepskies]

Love Actually - Part 3

Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: You and Ben steel yourselves in order to meet your crazy family for Christmas dinner.  

AN: And here’s Part 3, lovelies. Stick around after the end for a special announcement (new BMD fic dropping next weekend)!

Remember, this is set in the same world as “Break Me Down,” and set before “Checkerboard.” There will be a few references to the original story in this. But on the whole, this can be read as a stand-alone!

Word Count: 5,300 Warnings: 18+ only! Smutty smut ahead. Lots of fluff and a potential overload of feels.~

Part 3: “Auld Lang Syne”

You leaned down, subtly grabbing his thigh.

“I need you,” you whispered in his ear. The tone of your voice set his blood alight with new interest.

Ben’s resulting smirk was subtle, but edged. “A tour it is.” 

Ben got up from the couch, giving you a thinly veiled look of smugness. He knew you’d come around. 

You nearly rolled your eyes. 

But when you told your grandfather your plans to show your boyfriend the rest of the house, he just waved the two of you off. He was too invested in the baseball game to give it much thought.

Which left Ben to follow you up the stairs, where he admired the curve of your ass in this little dress. He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and grabbed a delectable handful. 

You gasped and clung to the guardrail. You shot him a warning look over your shoulder, despite your smile. 

Not yet, your gaze told him. But you took his hand and guided him the rest of the way up. His grip tightened on yours.

All right. He could wait.

When they got to the second floor though, Ben started to get curious about the large two-story house. 

“I thought you said your mom had debts,” he said. “Supposedly, that’s why you took on the job of hunting me down.”

You chuckled humorlessly. “Don’t let that Betty Crocker apron fool you. She’s a degenerate gambler.”

Behind you, Ben’s brows rose a bit.

You paused a step. “Or, well, she used to be. As you know, my family has issues.”

He snorted in response. Something else occurred to him though.

“Is this the house you grew up in?” he asked. You full on stopped walking then. 

“Oh, no,” you said, with a firm shake of your head. “She sold that house after the divorce. She bought this one with the settlement money.”

Ben ruminated over that as you led him into the guest bathroom. He closed the door behind him with a soft click, and by the time he turned around, you were there with your warm hands on his chest, shoving back his jacket.

He smirked and shrugged it off the rest of the way, then draped it on the doorknob behind him. He started with unbuttoning and rolling up the sleeves of his black dress shirt. 

You watched him with hunger in your eyes, running your hands down his firm chest and solid abs. 

You heaved a breath of relief when he pulled you in. He wrapped his arms around your waist and started kissing down your neck. You clung to his arms and tried to stop yourself from digging your nails into his nice shirt. 

“What changed your mind?” Ben asked.

“Are you complaining?” you quipped.

“Always a fucking smartass,” he rejoined. And his lips left you, with him giving you raised brow. His thigh slipped between your legs, a slow and torturous friction. “Maybe I’ll just leave that pretty pussy on fire.”

Ugh, you thought. He could be so annoying. You leveled your stern eyes up at him. 

“I need you to fuck me. Right now,” you said. “Or I’m gonna rip my aunt’s face off.” 

You reached down to cup his length firmly through his slacks, earning a grunt from him. It ended on a groan when you grazed him with your nails. He chuckled deeply.

“That’s kinda hot,” he replied. An understatement. The hairs on his arms were standing up, along with his cock. 

You smiled in amusement. “You would think so.”

He grabbed your arms and meant to kiss you, but you stopped him with your fingers against his lips. 

“Two rules: this lipstick doesn’t come off. And no. Ripping. The dress.”

By no means did you want to get caught doing this. You already felt guilty, and you two hadn’t even done anything yet. But you needed this, or else you weren’t sure you could get through dinner without any violent incidents.  

But you could tell that Ben was annoyed at being given restrictions as he stared down at you. 

“You’re making a lot of fucking demands tonight,” he said, squeezing your arms a bit.  

You smirked and tilted your face up to him. You leaned up, nearly brushing your lips with his. 

“Isn’t it more satisfying when you have to work for it?” you asked.

Ben huffed, and almost rolled his eyes. If there was one thing you enjoyed doing, it was testing his fucking patience. 

But then he smirked. “Fine.”

He gripped your arms tighter and turned you around, pressing you against the pristine granite countertop. You met his darkened gaze in the mirror.  

You knew then that he was going to do one of his favorite things: taking you from behind while he made you watch. It wasn’t the first time, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. But you parted your legs, your lower belly quivering with anticipation as his thigh encouraged you.  

His hands soothed down your arms, dragging across your body, squeezing your breasts over your dress while his lips burned down your neck once more. His teeth grazed your skin, making you shudder.

You then remembered to turn the faucet on in the sink. It would create some more background noise, and hopefully disguise your moans as his hands traveled down your body. 

You helped him slide the skirt of your dress up, tug your pantyhose down to your ankles without ripping them. 

“Hmm, I like the black lace,” he murmured behind you. His fingers dragged down your skin along with your panties.

“I know,” you replied on a shaky breath, as his fingers teased the slit of your pussy from behind, brushing between the folds. “You bought ‘em last week.”

“Did I?” he mused, as his fingers found your clit. He rubbed a bit roughly, drawing a pleased sound from your lips. “I’ve got good taste.”

A smile broke out across your face. “See? I never need to pay you any compliments. You can stroke your own ego just fine.”

Ben tilted his head at you. He peered around your shoulder to catch your eye. You gave him a sly look over your shoulder, though it was edged with desire.

“Oh yeah?” His words were a challenge. His fingers entered you then, earning an even deeper moan from you, though you tried to taper it down. “Maybe I should let you stroke your own too, huh?”

You shook your head, biting your lip. Your inner walls were already clenching on his fingers, and you had to grab his arm and the counter for balance. 

“Ben, please,” you whispered more raggedly. His smirk took on a wicked edge. 

“Oh, now it’s please?” he said, his voice drawing deeper, more gruff. “Please what?”

You couldn’t speak. His fingers were working overtime pulsing inside you, while his other hand joined, parting your folds to press on your clit like a button. You were so fucking close, you could taste it…    

But as soon as that coil began to truly tighten, Ben withdrew his fingers. You panted for breath, and your gaze snapped up to his in the mirror. You glared at him. 

“What the f—”

“Answer me,” he demanded. “Or I really will walk the fuck out right now.” 

Big talk, you thought, from the man with a rock-hard dick. But you blew out a breath and conceded to his demands. 

“Please,” you said, reaching back to stroke his cheek, running your fingers through his hair, bringing him closer. Your hand clenched in his hair. And with the other, you took his hand, still wet from where it had been inside you, and brushed it against your slippery folds. 

“This is all because of you,” you said. “Only ever for you. Fuck me until I break an ankle in these heels. ‘Til I can’t fucking breathe.”

Ben’s chest warmed. And it wasn’t just about his pride.

Somehow, you gave him everything he wanted to hear and more. Maybe that was part of what he loved about you. Even when you demanded from him, you gave him more of yourself.

So he gave you what you wanted. He guided you down onto the counter and rucked up your dress. Per rule #2, he did it gently enough so he wouldn’t rip the fabric. 

You heard his pants unzipping, felt the weeping head of his cock against your folds, teasing you for a moment. You gripped the counter and made a sound of pleading frustration. 

“I gotcha, baby,” Ben said, lowly in your ear. He gripped your hip and guided his cock inside you, nice and slow. You both breathed hard, trying to keep your voices down. He then bottomed out, and it made your inner walls flutter and tighten. He made a gutteral sound, low and pleased. “Such a good girl.”

His darkened green eyes fixed on yours in the mirror. It was heat and desire, but it was also deeper. It always had been, ever since he met you.

And for you, his gaze alone was a molten caress. If you had it your way, you could very well spend the rest of the night in the guest bathroom. In this very moment… 

But it had already been a while in here. You didn’t know how much time you had left before someone came to find you two, so you squeezed his hand on your hip. 

“Get going, cowboy,” you teased, but it was really a command. Ben saw it in your heated gaze in the mirror, meeting his. He slid out of you slow at first, but snapped back in harder. It made you jolt, but also shudder and squeeze him from the inside out. He wished he had the time to do this how he wanted, taking his time, but that was one thing they didn’t have.

He made up for it by taking you hard and deep, putting you through your paces. You held on for dear life while trying not to let your voice raise higher. It was a challenge for you, and you knew Ben liked hearing your voice. But when he hit a particularly good angle, you couldn’t help but cry out a bit. 

He brushed your hair away from your neck and pressed his lips there. He had to bite down to stifle his own grunts. It had you gasping at pain mixed with pleasure. 

He was getting close too; you could feel it in his wilder thrusts, in the tightening of his hand on your hip. You needed just a bit more.

“Ben,” you whispered. He heard the ragged need in your voice. He saw it in your eyes when he met them in the mirror, desperate for release.

“Tell me,” he ground out. 

You took his hand guided it again down to part your folds. He took the hint and once again circled the pads of his fingers against your clit—this time with purpose. Your breath hitched as the coil in your belly finally snapped and released its warmth. 

He gave you a few more hard thrusts before his hips stuttered as he groaned, and he spilled inside you. 

Oh shit. You still hadn’t gotten your IUD replaced…

Oh fucking well, you thought, as your core still quivered with pleasure. This was worth playing a bit fast and loose with your birth control.

For a while, the sounds of your mingled breaths were almost drowned out by the water running. You turned off the faucet. Then your eyes met Ben’s in the mirror, and you smiled. 

The corner of his mouth raised. He slid out of you, but you kept him close with a hand around the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair. Part of you couldn’t believe you just fucked your boyfriend in your mother’s house, in the guest bathroom of all places. But you felt all the better for it. 

Or at least, you no longer had a desire for blood. You stroked the arm that still held you upright, more bracing now than restrictive. You felt his seed spilling down your inner thighs, but you couldn’t yet force yourself to move. Your legs were still shaky. 

However, you knew you could rely on the strong pillar of his arms holding you. Ben rested his cheek against your hair, pressing a kiss there.

“You’re beautiful tonight,” he said. 

Your eyes widened with soft shock. When it slowly faded, you bit your lip. Your body shook with quiet laughter as your brows rose high.

“Right now?” you asked. With your dress rucked up and your pantyhose rolled down to your ankles.

“Yeah. Right now,” Ben said. “A fucking sight.” 

And he meant it. 

You could tell, and that warmed you down to your toes. Your smile softened as you rested against him and closed your eyes for a moment.

“You don’t know how glad I am that you’re here with me,” you said. “Thank you.”

“I’ve got some idea,” he murmured, smirking as you once again trembled with a giggle. 

You reluctantly detangled yourself from him to reach down under the sink for a washcloth. Ben let go of your waist, only so he could take the small towel from your hand. You looked up at him in confusion, but he leaned around you to run the cloth under a bit of warm water from the sink.

He then got down on one knee in front of you, and proceeded to clean you up himself. Your eyes widened as you stared down at him. Your breath caught in your throat. 

He’d never done this before. Something about it made you blush. The sheer intimacy of it, probably, of his hand running the warm cloth up your bare inner thighs. His free hand held one of your calves, his thumb resting just under your knee. 

You had to reach for his shoulder to stabilize yourself when the cloth swiped between your thighs, against your sensitive core. It made your lower belly tingle again with a spark of arousal. You breathed in slow and deep before you spoke.

“Not that I’m complaining, but…” you trailed. You weren’t even able to finish your question. 

Ben met your gaze with a raised brow. “What, can’t take care of my girl?” 

It took you a moment, but eventually you smiled. The kind of smile that made your insides warm and buoyant, and your stomach clench.

You had a feeling he’d overheard you and your sister talking earlier. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d eavesdropped with his superior hearing.

Your expression faded a bit when something occurred to you. You tilted your head at him.

“You heard everything my aunt said, didn’t you?” you asked. 

Ben paused a moment, holding the towel against your inner thigh. His lips drew downward as he remembered what he’d heard while trying to concentrate on the baseball game with George. 

“I’m just sayin’!” Trina said. “He might have forever, but you certainly don’t.”

If Louisa hadn’t stepped in when she had, Ben might’ve had to ruin his new suit, if not the evening.

“Seems like having a big fucking mouth runs in your family,” he muttered. 

You snorted. “Yeah, but mine’s endearing. She’s just a bitch, still bitter from her divorce.”

Ben didn’t answer. Though after he finished cleaning you up, he rested and elbow on his bent knee. His free hand dragged up your thigh and over your hip, squeezing soft flesh.

“Yeah well, put her in her place next time, or I will,” he said. His tone was edged, and you gave him a wry look. 

“I’ll try not to give you the chance,” you said. 

“I mean it,” Ben said. His gaze bore into yours, unyielding, even from where he knelt at your feet. He stood to his full height, tucking in his shirt and zipping his pants back up as he went. 

“No one’s got the fucking right to talk about our business,” he said. “And you better not listen to a goddamn word. About me, and sure as shit, not about you.”

A small, sharp breath got stuck in your throat. Just then, you found you had to swallow past a swell of emotion lodging in your throat. 

His hands found their way back to your hips and squeezed gently, but with purpose. You read it in his eyes. 

“You hearing me?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Your aunt was someone who always “meant well.” You had gotten far too used to swallowing your tongue for your mother’s sake. And at the end of the day, you usually knew how to let Trina’s words roll off. You’d certainly had plenty of practice.

But regardless, your heart grew for this man. 

You took his face between your hands, and you kissed him deeply, breaking rule #1.

You took a few more minutes to fix your clothes, your hair, and yes, your lipstick. 

When you two eventually went back downstairs, the table was nearly set. The appetizers and wine remained, along with the plates and silverware. All that was missing was dinner itself. 

“Okay, looks like dinner’s about ready. I’m gonna go and help,” you said. You gave Ben a parting smile and let your fingers run down the back of his arm. He shot you a wink, and one last pat on the ass. 

You had to stifle your squeal, sending him a playfully warning look on your way to the kitchen. You stepped back in to see your mom pouring the cranberry sauce into a serving pitcher. 

“Oh, glad Miss Congeniality could grace us again with her presence,” Trina remarked at the sight of you. 

You gave her a flat smile. “What do you need?”

“We’re serving. Help your mom,” she said, nodding behind her. You wordlessly agreed and went over to Marie, who gave you a curious look. 

“Where were you all that time?” she asked. Louisa looked over with the same question in her eyes. 

“Well, I said hi to Grandpa,” you said. It wasn’t a lie, and technically, nor were your next words. “And then I gave Ben a tour of the house.”

When the fuck is dinner already? Ben thought as he approached the dining table filled with mini quiche, pigs-in-a-blanket, and other appetizers. His stomach was starting to growl something fierce. He was craving real food, but he still grabbed one of the small plates.

While he surveyed the layout of finger food, Great Aunt Silvia sidled up next to him with her cane in hand. Ben noticed her out of the corner of his eye. According to George, she’d had a hip replacement last month. 

“Hey, there,” he greeted somewhat politely, if distracted by adding food to his small plate.  

“Oh, my days. You’re Soldier Boy,” she said in surprise. Her eyes twinkled with delight.

Where’ve you been, lady? Ben thought in annoyance. Oh, that’s right. Passed out in a damn oxy coma.

Before he could respond with something half gracious, he felt a bony hand get a meaty handful of his ass. 

He actually flinched, more at the suddenness than anything else. A pig-in-a-blanket flew from his plate and rolled off the table. 

Ben gave the old woman an incredulous look. What the fuck? 

“Excuse me?” he uttered. 

But of course, she played dumb. And she ducked quick when you came over with the mashed potatoes in large bowl. You set it down on the table, but you noted the grouchy look on his face as he looked past you into the living room. Great Aunt Sylvia waddled away with the help of her cane, back to her nice recliner. 

“What’s the matter?” you asked, earning his attention.

“Silvia’s a wily old broad,” he muttered. At the look on your face, however, he felt the need to clarify. “Apparently she got my ass confused with the quiche.”    

You bit your lip, and your eyes widened. You had to stifle a shocked giggle as you glanced past him to your great aunt, who’d taken her usual seat by her brother. You slid Ben a knowing smirk.

“I thought you liked older women,” you teased. 

He scoffed. “Gotta draw the line somewhere. I think ‘hip replacement’ is that line.”

“Not running for the Astroglide, huh?” you whispered in his ear.  

He grimaced, even though he also wanted to laugh. He just shook his head. 

“Jesus Christ, enough.”

You stifled a laugh through your nose and soothed his arm. 

“Here, help us with getting the ham on the table. Maybe we can avoid another member of my family playing grab ass.”

Once Christmas dinner was all set on the dining table, you were practically salivating. You had a hard time deciding on what to try first: the ham, the sweet potato casserole, the cranberry sauce, or stick as much of all three on your fork as you could. 

You went with the latter, and Louisa eyed you with a laugh. 

“What?” you asked with your mouth full. It got Ben’s attention as well.

“You do this every year,” Louisa remarked. “It’s like you forgot how long it takes to get dinner on the table in this house.”  

“I’m freakin’ starving,” you admitted. 

“Yeah? Worked up an appetite, did you?” Ben asked, a bit pointedly, despite the way he sipped at his wine. (And paying you back for that Astroglide quip). 

You shot him a warning look at his audacity.

Louisa seemed to be the only one who caught the exchange, with a suspicious brow raise. 

“So Ben,” Trina began, around a mouthful of ham. Already her voice set you on edge. “What was it like in the ‘40s? You know, with the Nazis and everything.”

You and Ben shared a subtle glance. His jaw clenched. 

Fuuuucking hell, you thought.

From the head of the table, Grandpa George looked over at his eldest daughter with an annoyed glint in his eye. 

“Katrina, do us all a favor,” he said wryly. “Keep stuffin’ your face.” 

You bit your lip against a grin. Louisa shared your same problem, snorting into her Diet Coke. 

Trina looked adequately indignant, but to everyone’s relief, she just pursed her lips and speared at her plate.  

The rest of dinner was interesting, to say the least, with many questions thrown to Ben about his celebrity days. He ate up the attention, just as you thought he would. It seemed your little escapade upstairs loosened him up too. He told his favorite stories, editing the more graphic anecdotes out of some of them, you noticed gratefully. 

The atmosphere only got tense when Ben bit into some kind of casserole Marie made. The texture was soft and stringy with green beans, but there was something unpleasantly sweet, and even crunchy in the middle. Uncooked noodles, maybe? Frankly, he wasn’t sure what he was eating. 

“You all right, hun?” Marie asked him. 

“What is this?” Ben asked, pointing down at his plate with a fork. 

“Ah.” Trina peered at his plate, and then the suspect casserole. “It’s probably not quite right. God love her, but my sister’s no Gordon Ramsay.”

You frowned as your mom’s gaze fell. Her lips drew downwards in disappointment. 

Before you could speak up, Ben’s voice stopped you. 

“You know what,” Ben said. His voice was tight, in a way that told you he might just snap. Your aunt’s questions had gotten more intrusive and annoying over the past hour, too much even for him to let roll down his back. He was used to dealing with shitty press, but Trina was fucking relentless.

Someone better fucking muzzle this bitch before I do it for her. 

The words were about to fly out of his mouth, in a very real threat. Ben only took his belt off in public for two reasons: a good fuck and a good old-fashioned hog tie. Your aunt was about to get the latter. 

However, he could tell by the way you were gripping the edge of the table, you were bracing yourself for whatever he was going to say next. All eyes were on him.

Ben drew in a breath. With every cell of effort left in him, he turned to Marie with a smile. As pleasant as he could manage. 

“I was just trying to figure out what you put in this, because it’s delicious,” he said.

Marie blinked with a bit of surprise, but then, she brightened. 

“Oh…well, it’s just green bean casserole. A bit of butter, some Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup. That classic recipe,” she said.

But she paused, in a way that told Ben that the other shoe was about to drop. 

“…And I just added a few raisins and walnuts this time. For some texture,” she said with a shrug. “You know, something different.”

She smiled at Ben, while he and the rest of the table tried not to grimace. Who the fuck puts raisins in cream of mushroom? That’s just wrong.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she said.

Ben offered her a nod, but he had to take a long sip of wine to wash the unpleasant mix of overbearing salt and sweetness down. 

He felt your soft hand squeeze his under the table. When he looked over, he found your subtle, thankful smile. The corner of his mouth raised, however slightly. 

The night ticked on, and Ben subtly checked his watch while he chilled out on the couch. He was at the edge of the festivities now, as your family was exchanging gifts by the modest Christmas tree in the living room. 

He surveyed them all—warm and comfortable with one other as they joked and hugged and talked and laughed. Even Trina looked less irritating. 

Ben felt a bit like an intruder. 

Hell, he didn’t think he’d ever had this. A quiet, family Christmas.  

Though he was a bit surprised when Marie was the first one to walk over to him. She sat down on the couch and offered him two gift bags. One was larger than the other.

“You didn’t have to,” he told her, but she waved him off.

“Nonsense. When I saw this, I couldn’t help thinking of you,” she said. Ben began opening the larger one first. It was a simple, dark blue bag. 

“You might think it’s silly,” she said, folding her hands in her lap in a slightly nervous gesture. “Feel free to return it if you don’t like it.”

Ben pulled out a nice bottle of whiskey. He actually appreciated this one. 

“Oh! That’s from Louisa,” said Marie. 

“Really?” He glanced over and found Louisa sitting on the floor beside you. 

You were busy trying to cut through a present Grandpa George had wrapped with duct tape, just to be an asshole. (He did this to you every year, precisely because it frustrated you so much.)  

But Louisa looked up and met Ben’s gaze, giving him a wry smile and a lazy soldier’s salute. His lips quirked, and he inclined his head in wordless thanks.

“This one next,” Marie prompted him. She tapped on the second gift bag, which was bright green and shiny. 

There he found a leatherbound journal and a set of silver ballpoint pens. They looked expensive. They also reminded him of a set his father used to keep in his desk, in his study. Even the smell of the leather brought him back to that room, filled with books, crisp ink-filled pages, and tumblers of whiskey.  

“I’ve worked in a hospital for over ten years, in the psychology wing,” Marie said. “I see a lot of veterans. Lisa, my friend who’s a nurse? She told me that writing things down can help with memories you want to keep, and sort through the ones you’d rather not.” 

Ben held her gaze for a moment, but it soon fell to the journal. He didn’t really know what to say. For once, he was at a loss for words. 

Mostly because he was irritated. He didn’t need what she was offering, and implying…

Still, it was hard to get mad at someone like Marie. It would be like all those times he’d snapped at his own mother, leaving him feeling hollow inside afterwards. He’d always apologized to her later…in his own way. 

But that was a long time ago.

“Sorry,” Marie said eventually. “I know, you’re too busy for all that. But at least you’ve got the whiskey.”

“Thank you,” Ben said. But the reserved smile he offered her was more genuine than even he expected. The journal and the pens still laid in his lap. 

Marie smiled warmly, and in it, Ben saw your inner softness. The way you cared about your family and your friends, and him…he knew then that it began here.

Marie gave his cheek a motherly pat. Ben allowed it, begrudgingly.

“We’re so glad you’re here, honey,” she said. “I hope you had a good time.”

He was a bit relieved when she finally moved on. She headed over to Louisa, who was opening one of her gifts. You got up off the floor returned to your boyfriend with a wrapped box in your hand. First, you admired his small haul. 

“Look who’s popular,” you noted with a grin. Ben gave you a bemused look and put the gifts back in their respective bags. 

“I’ve got one more for you,” you said, with a teasing smile that made him suspicious. You handed him the box, which was about the size of a large book. The sticker said it was from you, to him.

His brows furrowed. “What’s this?”

You already got him the watch. But at your gesturing, he ripped the green wrapping paper off to find…a photo album. 

“Really, what is this?” he asked. 

“You can’t tell?”

“I know what it is—”

“Well, then open it,” you prodded. You sat down next to him as he started flipping through the album. 

The very first picture wiped the curious expression from his face. It was his mother, crisp in black and white. She was young and beautiful and smiling almost shyly for the camera on a windy day. 

Right beside it, there was one of his parents’ wedding pictures, old and yellowed around the corners. The third was a faded picture of the club where his parents met. His mother had been a singer there. 

You leaned over with a hand on his shoulder. Ben looked over at you.

“What the hell did you do?” Ben he asked. His face was hard to read, but he didn’t look upset. His tone was more resigned.

“I found your stash of pictures under the bed, so I thought I’d put them together for you,” you said. You bit your lip in worry, hoping he would like it. You weren’t sure of his reaction yet.

After a moment, he kept flipping. Next were a few pictures of himself, incredibly young and already with a familiar cocky grin. There was even a rare picture of him and his parents together. He remembered when and where it was taken—at his father’s birthday, right after Ben got kicked out of boarding school. 

He hadn’t looked at these pictures in…hell. It’d been decades. He'd retrieved them from an old storage locker last month, but hadn't gotten around to actually opening up the box. Now, he supposed, he didn't have to.

But the album then skipped ahead, by a lot, because the next row of pictures was unfamiliar to him—ones you must’ve added. 

They were of the Supe Affairs team. One was a group picture Hughie managed to grab with all of you in it. 

There was another right beside it, of Hughie trying to lift Ben’s shield. 

“When the fuck did that little shit get ahold of my shield?” Ben groused.

“No idea,” you said with a smile, and you flipped the page. There was an old school polaroid of you with Frenchie and Kimiko, sharing milkshakes. Then you and Annie, clinking cocktails together. Followed by you and M.M. trying to beat Butcher at backgammon. 

And then one of you, your friend Yvette, and her son Devon in Central Park. Another beside it, on that same day, where Ben had an arm raised high and parallel to the ground, and Devon clung onto his arm with a wide smile. 

Ben lingered on that picture for a moment. He was too engrossed in it to see you glance at him, smiling.

He flipped to the next page, where there was a picture of just you and Ben, sleeping in the jet on the way back from a rare field mission you were a part of. He was still in his supe suit, with an arm thrown around your waist. You were resting on his chest, and both of you were completely knocked out. Ben quirked a smile at that one. 

On that page and the next was a series of pictures from the past few months. He didn’t know this, but you’d been collecting them from your phone and had gotten them developed. 

There was the first time Ben got you to ride a motorcycle with him. You were apprehensive, clinging to him for dear life while he grinned. It had taken him a while to convince you to hop on, but the only thing that worked was finally telling you the truth. 

“You really think for one damn second that I’m gonna let you fall?”

The next picture was one he got of you, fresh out of the shower with a towel barely wrapped around you. You were clearly annoyed, but also amused that he’d surprised you with the camera. Ben now pointed to it.

“That one’s my favorite,” he grinned.

“Shocker,” you said with a chuckle. “Keep flipping.”

He then got to one you took of him. He was sitting out on the balcony, half-dressed with a cigar puffing away. The sun was setting beyond him. You caught his profile as he turned to look at you over his shoulder. 

It was a good memory for you, and some damn good photography skills, if you did say so yourself. 

But there was another picture that drew Ben’s eye. It was one that Annie sneakily took of you and him on a night out with her, Hughie, Kimiko, and Frenchie. After a bit of alcohol and cajoling, you’d managed to get Ben out on the dance floor. You were both dewy with sweat from dancing. The lighting was off because of the darkness of the club. 

But the way he was holding you, looking at you with fire thinly veiled behind his eyes, and the way you were looking up at him, like you’d never been more satisfied than to be right where you were…

It was a damn perfect moment captured in four corners. And as Ben’s finger traced the edge of them, he couldn’t stop staring at what it held. 

Until you leaned in and kissed his cheek. 

“Merry Christmas,” you said. And you hoped it was officially a good one.  

When Ben once again turned his head to look at you, he couldn’t help but reach out and frame your face with his hand. He then leaned in and kissed you, unhurried, but with an underlying passion. 

Delightful heat crawled down your spine. You grasped his collar to keep him where you wanted him. 

Meanwhile, the two of you didn’t realize that the rest of your family was surreptitiously watching the little scene. Trina and Marie shared amused smiles. George was glad to see that you finally seemed happy. Sylvia was, once again, passed out in the recliner.

Louisa’s expression was more reserved…but her eyes softened. Maybe she didn’t have to worry about you so much after all.

And when Ben finally parted from you, he thumbed gently at your chin.  

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said.

You and Ben left your mother’s house with plenty of leftover food and a haul of presents, which you both brought upstairs into your apartment. 

“So, I know there were some snafus, but it was nice, right?” you asked him as you made your way into the bedroom.

Ben was already there at his dresser, taking off his new watch and placing it back in its black suede box for safe keeping. He considered your words with a nod, and a smile you couldn’t see.

“It wasn’t bad,” he said. 

You nodded in satisfaction. That was practically a glowing review, coming from him. 

His gaze found yours in the mirror, those perfectly red painted lips forming a smile as you approach from behind. Your hands travelled through the bows of his arms to unbuckle his belt for him. 

“I know you did me a lot of favors today, but I’m gonna need one more,” you said, with a coy smile curving your lips. “I need your help taking off this lipstick.”

Smirking, Ben turned in your arms and leaned back casually against the dresser. Using his unfastened belt as leverage, you leaned up in your heels and met his lips in a slow, but fiery kiss.

His eyes unconsciously closed as the scent of your perfume once again invaded his nose. It was less powerful by now, but it still clung to your skin like a soft imprint. He liked it. 

After your lips drew away from his, Ben watched you make a show of undoing the small latch on his pants, and then his zipper. He sunk his fingers into the soft waves of your hair, and he gave you a charming grin that once got him starlets and movie deals. 

“Well, I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” he said.  

You smirked at that. You didn’t know if fucking you in your mom’s house constituted as gentlemanly behavior, but you’d let that slide. 

And you did some sliding yourself, down his strong thighs and onto your knees. He could take care of you all right, but you prided yourself on taking care of him too. 

AN: And there you have it, folks. 😜 What did you think? From bathroom shenanigans and Christmas dinner to some good old-fashioned gift giving. I think we covered it all! lol

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Coming up next, we have a more angsty mini series:

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

▶️ Next Story: Wake Me Up

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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Tag List:

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@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

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[toplessoncology]

house fics i recommend!

a forever incomplete list because i lose links frequently and there are frankly far too many incredible writers in this fandom!! so this list will be short to start. but look out for additions later. also these will probably all be hilson cause i know what i like

Look, Don't Touch by @oriley42 - wilson has a voyeurism problem. i LOVE the prose of this fic, and it's FUNNY funny. it made me cry laughing multiple different times while reading it the first time. really on-point characterization and dialogue as well

Sin Days of Auld Lang Syne by baffledbear - this fic fills in the gaps of house and wilson's pre-canon relationship and it's EVERYTHING. i've probably read this thirty times. life changing.

we peeled the freckles from our shoulders by flowersinapril - house and wilson meet as young adults as summer camp counsellors!! this fic has always stayed with me because of the beautiful and evocative development of the setting and the way it contributes to the feeling of the piece as a whole.

He Won't Tell You That He Loves You by @hellshandbasket - the first house fic i ever read, and the one that inspired me to get into fic writing! set in s6, nolan presses house about the whole wilson issue. PERFECT dialogue and very sweet story. truly truly so so good

Sun It Rises by @lucradiss - part of a per-season series, set in s2! one of the fics that inspired my fic Misdiagnoses, and really well-written. very evocative prose, i feel like everytime i read it i can see it in my head clearly! really good look at the inside of wilson's head and his jumbly anxious thoughts. beloved to me

[dadsbongos]

dads rockin' new year's eve!

count the seconds and belt those carols because the new year is approaching quick! let's celebrate right by appreciating our fictional loved ones! be sure to read through the do's & don't's below the cut or be kicked outta VIP! 17/23 prompts remain

tagging peeps who seemed inch rested: @toxycodone / @maniacpixiedreamboy + @xyfanficarchive + @antoine-tte + @dreamsandsuns + @kingofthe-egirls

**collab is open!**

PARTY RULES let's be mindful of our guests and ourselves!

full-length fics are completely non-necessary, but if the inspiration is hot i want people to have plenty of wiggle space! i’d say minimum ~400 words - 5k absolute max.

prompts are first come first served with no repeats. prompts remain open until picked or until December 15th. 

NSFW is allowed, however, i'll need an age or adequate age-indicator plainly visible on your blog or it’s gonna be a party foul! all characters involved must be aged up to 18 or older. dark content is allowed, so long as it’s appropriately tagged.

if, for any reason, you gotta ditch a prompt before midnight please let me know asap so we can get it back out there for a different date! switching one prompt for another can only be done once.

feel free to post as soon as you’re done, posts will be reblogged but not shared on a cohesive masterlist until closer to the deadline: December 26th. please tag your post #dads rockin new year and link back to this post :] 

also! i’d like to avoid repeating characters as much as possible, after 2 prompts are filled by the same character then we’ll need to freshen it up with a new face!

RSVP when's the party, and how to enter!

the big new year's eve bash will be on December 31st, no posts will be let in after the party ends!

to enter: pick an available prompt and drop the emoji in my inbox or messages along with what character you’re writing for (and what fandom they hail from!)

BYOB pick a prompt! the fun part!

12 grapes 🍇

champagne bubbles 🍾

gold tinsel 🥇

silver spoon 🥄

ball drop 🎊

hangover 💊

sloppy midnight kiss💋

fireworks🎆

woop-woop sirens!!🚨

snowball 🍧

recluse at a party 🌱

daddy’s fancy yacht 🚢

minutes after midnight, already broke a resolution⏰

regrets ⭕

last chances! 🍷

and the best part of this year was… 🍰

“you can’t spend the night alone!” 👯‍♀️

late night toast 🍞

stargazing ⭐

streamers 🎉

party favors 🎈

auld lang syne 🎶

secret special super surprise pick! ☢️

(dad spins a wheel and randomly assigns a prompt not pictured on screen. one re-roll allowed.)

GUESTLIST who's allowed in, who's coming, and their date for the party!

writers: @toxycodone x daisuke (mouthwashing) - sloppy midnight kiss💋 @toxycodone x chilchuck (dunmeshi) - regrets⭕ @24kills x satoru gojo (jujutsu kaisen) - silver spoon🥄 @dreamsandsuns x katsuki bakugou (bnha) - ball drop 🎊 @xyfanficarchive x captain curly (mouthwashing) - stargazing⭐ @antoine-tte x kylar (degrees of lewdity) - recluse at a party🌱

fandom: any, be wild be proud be unabashedly cringe as we welcome the new year!

feel free to ask if you have any questions i either didn't cover or if you need any clarification! this is my first go at an event like this, so i want it to run smoothly!