#broken mirror christmas tree

[author-morgan]

Title: Daylight Rating: M Pairing: Arthur x fem!Reader Summary: Arthur always knew you and he would make a fine match. ...hiding all of our sins from the daylight... I've now collected all(?) your husbands for my infinity gauntlets. a late merry christmas and an early valentines for you boo. @mrsragnarlodbrok.

“SORRY,” ARTHUR MUTTERS, “hands are rough.” He noticed how you pulled away from his calloused touch as he pressed the stained damp cloth against the bloody wound on the back of your shoulder—remnants of an arrow after Bedivere and the Mage helped him dig out the bodkin point. It’d likely been meant for him in the heat of the battle and he cursed himself seeing you fall nigh feet from him, pulled away to shelter by his kingsguard. Even with the power of Excalibur, he’d been unable to protect you—an age-old promise broken.

You lift your gaze from the charred stone floor, looking at your reflections in a fogged-over mirror on the opposite side of the room. Focus has his brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. “You always say that,” you tell him, words slurred from the pain, exhaustion, and strongwine, and voice rougher than normal. This isn’t the first time Arthur Pendragon has tended your hurts and woes, and at this rate you doubt it’ll be the last.

Dried blood and sweat washed away, Arthur picks up the piece of tree bark with a salve prepared by the Mage to stave off the pain for a while and keep the wound from festering. Then, Arthur binds the wound with fresh linen and wipes his hands, kneeling in front of you—hands resting on your hips. You lay your hand on his cheek, thumb sweeping across his cheek, marred with dirt and soot. Leaning toward him, he meets you halfway, and you set your lips on his—a soft, fleeting kiss like the touch of butterfly wings.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you tell him, fingertips mindlessly combing through the scruff on his jaw. He straightens to full height but does so with a grimace. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?” You ask again.

“Just bruises,” he assures you, and this time, it seems like he’s being truthful, besides the few scratches on his hands and the slim, already scabbed-over, cut on his forehead. 

Arthur sits next to you on the edge of the bed, looking toward the open balcony. You both can hear the joyous shouts and chants. Bedivere and the others will only be able to satiate the men for so long. They will want to hear from the one who led them to victory. From the Born King. “They’ll be waiting for you to give a speech,” you tell him. 

“They’re waiting to go headfirst into the barrels of grog,” he amends, but if the out-of-tune songs are anything to go off of...  

“Sounds like they already have,” you laugh. Tonight, there will be revelries for the victory against Vortigern and his forces. In the following days, there’ll be feasts to honor the fallen and growing lists of preparations for a coronation. But right now, Arthur Pendragon doesn’t want to be a king just yet. Right now, he’s content just to be Arthur the street rat, especially when you lean your head against his shoulder and link your fingers through his—and then he’s certain there’s no one else in all of England for him except you.

“HIDING FROM ME? Or everyone else?” Your head quickly swivels to the side, only to relax at the sight of Arthur approaching. You cannot help but wonder how he isn’t cold. He's not dressed anywhere near as layered or warm as he should be for the winter evening, but somehow, he manages to look cozy even in just a scarlet linen-and-wool doublet. Stepping back, your eyes flit up to the scarlet-tinged leaves, still clinging to the branches of the white-bark birch, before looking beyond to the fresh falling snow. 

He stops at your side and looks up, too. “Was just thinking about what a bad influence you’ve been on my person,” you tell him, a small half-smirk creeping onto your features. Arthur tilts his head back in amused question, then stares up at the leaves and the silver sliver of the moon peeking through the winter clouds. “As I recall, I was an innocent girl before you came along and ruined all that.”

His blue eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest. “You’ll have to refresh my memory on how I did that, darlin’.” He moves a little closer, and you sense his ploy, twisting and ducking when he moves to grab you. 

You face him with brows raised, smiling. “Such a brute,” you taunt, “grabbing at innocent girls in the castle courtyards at night. Is that any way for the King of England to behave?” 

Arthur only rolls his eyes, trying to smother another smirk, and this time, he catches your arm as you move around him. It takes little strength to move you how he wants—pressing you into the trunk of the great tree at the heart of the courtyard. His hands press against the smooth bark beside your head as he leans in enough to look down at you. The glint in his eyes is mirthful, but there’s something else shining in his gaze too—you’ve seen that look a dozen times now, and you’re almost afeared to think about what it can mean. “Maybe you have a point,” he drawls, wearing that crooked, boyish grin that makes your heart flutter.

Your laugh almost catches him off guard. His hand slips down to run gently along your waist, the other toys with the hair at the side of your head. You lean back into the tree more, relaxing as your hands find his waist to rest on. “My father sends his kind, innocent daughter to study in Londinium, and what does this strong, noble boy do?” Arthur raises his brow. “He shoves her against a wall in an alleyway because he has no reasonable way of expressing his feelings with words.” He was just a street rat orphan and you were the daughter of some fancy lord from far away—opposites in nigh every way but more alike than you ever could have imagined. “I was never the same after that.”

His head dips down into the crook of your neck, nose training across your throat and inhaling the scent of roses and lavender. “No,” he smiles, voice low—more of a muttering husk—lips twitching as he pulls back, glancing to your lips and up, “but you’re more fun now.” Your expression falls flat, and Arthur laughs. It’s nigh impossible not to grin or melt at the sound and how little it seems you’ve heard it of late—and by Merlin’s beard, he’s impossibly handsome with laugh lines crinkling the edges of his eyes and a lopsided smile. Leaning further into him, his breath dances across your cheek, the back of his fingers brushing along your neck. 

You exhale shakily, and Arthur teases you again with light presses of his lips along your jaw and neck—hands smoothing up and down your waist as he does. For a moment, your hands find their way to his chest before you remember how open the courtyard is and that anyone can happen upon the two of you like this. Glancing around, you breathe his name in a flustered whisper, hand pressing against his chest—the last thing a new king needs is rumors to turn into scandal. 

Arthur takes a step back, giving you both room, but then there’s a new glint in his eyes. The playful mirth disappears from his cornflower eyes, replaced by something more serious—kingly, even. It’s something he’s been thinking about for years. Maybe even since the two of you first met by happenstance in the streets of Londinium and struck up an odd friendship. But over the years, Arthur thinks he cannot just call you a friend, not anymore. What he feels runs deeper than that, and given his newfound title and responsibilities...“I’ve been thinking,” he starts.

“And does it pay well?” You quip in a poor attempt to lighten the now solemn mood.

He rolls his eyes, exasperated, unable to hide how his lips quirk upwards. “Would you let me finish?” And so you do, unsure what he must say or ask that warrants such a dramatic change in his usual demeanor. Arthur reaches for your hand, the rough pads of his fingers curling around and into your palm. He stoops forward, lips brushing against your knuckles—reverent. “I’d like you to stay,” he breathes, straightening back to full height. Your brows furrow. “Here,” he adds, “with me.”

You know what he is asking of you—marriage—and it should be an easy answer. Yes, of course. You’ve loved Arthur since before you knew what the word truly meant. But given the events of the last few months and the precipitousness of his proposal, you’re left speechless, heart beating in your throat until all you can do is run to the haven of your chambers with tears pricking your eyes.

A LOUD KNOCK on the great wooden door echoes in your bedchambers. You rouse from sleep, righting the oversized tunic hanging off one shoulder in an attempt to appear decent at the late hour. Part of you already knows who will be waiting on the other side, but when you crack open the door, it still surprises you to find him standing before you—wearing only a loose, nigh threadbare tunic and pair of dark britches. “Arthur,” you greet, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before motioning for him to come in.

There’s still an uneasy air between you after the earlier events and conversation in the courtyard—his proposal. “I shouldn’t’ve….” he starts as you do. “I should not...” You both fall silent, eyes searching the other’s face for an indication of who will be the first to speak, the first to act, but there’s only silence. 

“Yes,” you quickly tell him—the shock of his initial proposal has faded, and now you’ve never been more certain about something in your life. You still can’t say what it is that caused you to react in such a way—Arthur’s the only man you’ve ever loved, the only person you could have ever thought of having a life with, even before all this Born King shite. The answer is ‘yes.’ It had always been. 

“Yes?” He repeats with furrowed brows, not sure he’s heard you correctly.  “I’ll stay” —you reach to comb your fingers through his close-shorn beard, and he leans into the touch— “with you.” Forever.

He smiles, and it’s as though a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Arthur cradles your face in his hands, thumbs running over your cheekbones. You smile for him, and he leans toward you, closing the distance. His lips are on yours in an instant.

You answer his kiss, slowly at first, then with more fervor when you settle your hands on either side of his neck, drawing yourself closer. Parting, you press your forehead against his and meet his heated stare. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that?” Arthur asks, breathless.

Then he’s kissing you again and again—hands straying to your waist and backside, pulling you closer, tighter. And it fans the embers burning low in your belly to flames. Arthur breaks the kiss with an anguished groan—fighting a losing war with himself. He brushes back the hair falling in front of your face, the rough pad of his thumb running over your lips. “Tell me to stop,” he mutters—it’s almost a plea. And then he’s adrift in your soft and dark gaze, knowing if you do nothing to stop this, he’ll be acting on countless years of love and pent-up desire.

“No,” you breathe, catching his wrist and sliding his hand up from your neck—peppering his fingertips with gentle kisses. He watches you, lips parted and heart aching. Closing your eyes, you draw in a slow breath, and with a final kiss to his palm, you guide his hand to rest on one of your clothed breasts.

“Arthur.” You speak his name as though it is a quiet prayer. “I want you.” He pulls on the string at the neck of your nightshirt, loosening it until the gauzy material falls off your shoulders—puddling around your ankles, 

Though bare, you still hold his clear blue gaze. He goes silent as he draws in a sharp breath—eyes dart over the length of your body. His eyes darken, though, a mix of lust and adoration. “Think this is the longest you’ve been qui–” He cuts you off with a kiss, and one of his hands rises to cradle your cheek—the side of your neck again—and his lips coax yours open.

You sigh into his mouth, hands instinctively dipping under the hem of his roughspun tunic, fingertips trailing over the taut muscles of his abdomen and the scar on his ribs. Arthur breaks the kiss, quickly shrugging off his shirt, and lets the undyed piece of wool fall to the floor.  

Then, suddenly, he lifts you off your feet effortlessly. You hastily grip his shoulders for balance until he lays you on the bed—standing back to take off his trousers, and you watch him with a weird mixture of hunger and wistfulness as he strips. Arthur kicks aside his discarded clothes, then crawls onto the bed, making room for himself between your thighs—his clear and cold gaze burning with the warmth of the Sun and never once straying from yours.

You gaze tensely at his face as he studies you. His expression is greedy and appreciative, and the firelight glowing in his eyes just makes him look all the more ardent, and the longer he stares at you without doing anything, the more restless you are for him to act. You want his touch, his cock, his lips on yours, and all he’s giving you is this appreciative greedy stare, and it’s not enough.

Arthur kisses you again, and then he leans away from your lips and kisses the angle of your jaw. His mouth travels to the side of your neck, and your pulse flutters in your throat. His lips are surprisingly soft, and as his mouth trails from your neck to your collarbone, the delicacy of his kisses makes you feel lightheaded —a mix of pleasure and disbelief. 

He nuzzles your collarbone, then places a kiss just above the swell of your breast, and you arch helplessly toward his mouth. The heat of his breath wafting over your breast, making your nipples go taut with anticipation, and when the scruff of Arthur’s beard brushes over your nipple, you jolt and make a helpless little mewling sound. You twine your fingers into his golden hair, trying to hold him in place against you. But Arthur shoots you a quick smile, then shuffles lower on the bed still and kisses your breast —and you twist your hips, hands slipping from his hair to his shoulders.  

A sob leaves your throat—not a crying kind of sob, but an instinctive noise tore from your throat without your permission. He lifts his mouth from your breast and smiles at you, and you stare stupidly at his handsome face—the spark in his clear eyes and the boyish smirk twisting his lips.

Arthur palms your breast and squeezes gently. He shuffles lower still on the bed and places a sweet, open-mouthed kiss on your navel, and your sense of surreal disbelief ratchets to a nearly unbearable degree. His mouth drifts lower now, the scruff of his beard tickling your belly as he presses his lips to the skin below your navel and eases your thighs further apart.

Arthur places a kiss between your legs, and your mind goes blank with pleasure. 

“You alright, darlin’?” He smirks. You stare at him, too stunned by pleasure to find a clever response. Instead, riled by the teasing sparkle in his face, you spread your knees wide. His gaze drops between your legs, and his expression darkens with interest as he places his hands on your knees—stroking up to your thighs. He places another firm, wet kiss between your legs, and a helpless moan leaves your lips, and he hums with approval, a smug, half-growly little hum.  

You gasp in a breath, realizing you haven’t been breathing at all. Arthur lifts his head to look you in the eye. “Relax, love,” he croons, smoothing his palm over your belly as he laps at your cunt with slow hot sweeping strokes of his tongue. It’s not long before a finger presses into you, working you slowly open.

Your hips jerk softly along with his movements, and there’s unspoken interest in his gaze as he stares down at you, relentless in his efforts to see you come undone. His tongue and lips are at your clit, fingers stroking and curling deep within you. You jolt, and then he moves slower, dragging over the sensitive spots he’s discovered inside you and leaving your nerves tingling with every touch.

Pleasure washes over you in waves, making your calves twitch, your fingertips feel numb, and that high-pitched mewling noise leaves your throat. Overwhelmed—enraptured—you buck your hips toward his face and clench your fingers convulsively in his hair, and he keeps licking and kissing you until you can’t take it anymore. You pull on his hair to stop him, and he finally pulls away, lips glistening in the moonlight and fading glow of the firelight. “Enough,” you groan. “Need you.” It’s nigh a broken plea.

You shudder as he moves, situating himself between your thighs, calloused fingers dipping into your cunt to gather your slick and spread on his hard cock as he strokes himself. “Arthur, please,” you whimper, impatient, and he won’t keep you waiting.

He slides his cock through your folds before his angle changes just slightly, and on the next pass, your breath stutters as his cockhead presses just inside you—barely splitting you open. Arthur’s hand grabs your hip and angles you up just a bit so he can slide deeper inside you, and you cling onto his biceps—feeling his scars press into your palms and admiring the way his muscles flex under your touch. 

Arthur hisses through his teeth when he fully seats himself inside your warmth, then releases his breath slowly and smiles at you. “You’re lovely,” he murmurs, twining his fingers through yours, pressing the back of your hands into the mattress. From the moment Arthur first saw you in the Londinium streets, he knew your fates were intertwined—just as your bodies and hands were now. He trembles at this personal heaven, then draws his hips back, starting to move.

You laugh breathlessly, mindlessly. “Charmer,” you pant, hooking your legs around his waist. You roll into his thrusts, pulling him deeper. His ragged breaths and grunts mingle with your sighs of pleasure—panting scarcely keeping up with your racing heart. 

He huffs in amusement. “Can’t say that’s something I get called often,” Arthur says as he pumps his hips slowly, teasing you and pleasing you almost more than you can bear. Then he lowers his lips to yours in a kiss—there’s something sweet on his tongue, like honey wine. 

His whole body begins moving, surging, and writhing against yours. One of his hands releases yours and caresses your cheek before he slides it down your body. Without thought, your body arches into his hand as it moves, ripening under his touch—thoughts clouded by lust and love. His fingers find your clit at the same time his mouth latches to your neck.

Another guttural cry bursts from your lips. He’s pounding into you now, and he’s still holding your hand while his other grips your hip. Your breathing is loud, and so is his, and his hand is tightening on your fingers. He drags in a breath, then expels it in a strained groan.

He shudders, then pounds into you hard, twice, thrice, and then he pauses with his cock deep inside of you. His jaw clenches, and his grip on your hip is so tight that it’s almost painful, but you like it—just as much as you like the guttural sound he makes as he shudders in completion. A few long seconds later, he gasps in a breath, then sighs and releases your hand. “Fuck,” he groans, holding his weight above you on shaking arms. 

You beckon him to lie atop you, his golden head pillowed on your breasts as his breathing steadies, sighing when you kiss his hair and whisper a quiet, I love you, for him to relish. He stays sheathed inside your warmth, unwilling to part just yet. “I love you,” he murmurs in turn, never tiring of how you smile when he says the words. Sighing, he rolls to the side, and you whine at the loss of him and the empty feeling between your thighs.

He lays on his side, and you pillow your head on his outstretched arm, nuzzling close against his chest and threading one of your legs through his. Arthur presses his cheek to the crown of your head and strokes your hair as the first dregs of daylight break over the horizon, shining upon England, Camelot, and his future wife and queen.

[Forever taglist: @certifiedlittleshit / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @hereforreadandwrite / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @rigshak ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my forever taglist, or any other character/fandom taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

[1000roughdrafts]

Just Another Day

Summary: Fluffy Dean x female!reader Valentine's Day post

Warnings: some language (like 2-3 words), light mentions of angst, but mostly fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Not betad, all mistakes are my own 😊 and bear with me, I’m a little rusty 🥰 happy love day 🥰

Valentine's Day has never really been a favorite of mine, let alone anything I'd consider more than 'just a day'. Hell, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, even birthdays are all just 'another day' for me. It's kind of difficult not to harbor ill feelings about them after constantly being let down by the people in my life, one broken promise after another.

Dean and Sam have kept every promise they've made, though. In fact, they're managing to break down my walls bit by bit from stolen candy on Halloween to a fried chicken meal with beer on Thanksgiving all while living in cheap motels chasing monsters. When I told them this morning that I just wanted to hunt as usual for the day, I couldn't help but to feel a tad disappointed that they agreed. Bit by bit, I'm breaking my own rules about not getting my hopes up on holidays.

This is our first Valentine's Day as a couple, and I've known Dean long enough to know that chocolate and flowers aren't exactly his style. But I can count on him to bring me a piece of pie "just because" or he'll clean my weapons for me after a particularly grueling hunt because he knows all I want to do is shower and get in bed.

After a long day of exorcising demons, we are on the road again. Burnin' For You by Blue Oyster Cult plays low on the radio, but the clattering of rain on the roof has my full attention. Sam loudly rifles through the papers in his lap with one hand, flashlight held in the other, hesitant to ever let himself relax. Dean's eyes flicker between the road and the rear-view mirror to periodically check on me.

"Hey, you seem off today, you okay?" Dean asks, picking up on my vacant eyes and slight frown.

I suck in a breath, inhaling the scent of the Black Ice air freshener and a hint of stale whiskey, "yeah," I say curtly, keeping my eyes on the trees swaying in the wind as we drive past, lit only by the moon above us. The wind howls against the windows of the Impala, sneaking in and covering my skin with goosebumps.

His face scrunches a bit and he nods before the tick of the blinker signals that he's turning off the highway. I feel a twinge of discomfort knowing we're only minutes away from the motel now. As much as I hate the numbness I feel in my butt and thighs, there is something meditative about being a passenger on a long drive.

We pass an abandoned gas station before I can see the dim lights of the Wandering Inn. Dean parks us by the front desk, leaving the Impala to run with a soft purr as he gets us a key to a room. Neither Sam nor I take our time getting the bags together, so by the time Dean is back out and we find a parking spot near the room, we're ready to head in.

The door whines as Dean pushes it open, immediately palming the peeling wall for a light switch. The overhead light flickers a few times before settling on a weak glow, and before I can even shut the door behind us, the smell of burnt dust and old pledge assaults my nose. I glance around the small room. The musky yellow walls seem to make it feel even smaller, somehow.

Dean turns to me with outstretched arms and a smile, asking for my bags. I dutifully and sleepily hand them over, not realizing the weight they bared until the relief of their absence waves over me. Dean nods his head towards the bathroom, "ladies first on a shower," he says softly. His boots click on the tile as he walks over to toss our bags onto the bed, plopping down next to them to remove his boots.

In a few short strides I head over to grab my bag for the bathroom, stopping in front of him to plant a kiss on his forehead. His eyes, droopy and half-closed, look up at me in a smile. He places his hands my back, thumbs rubbing circles on my skin as he pulls me in for a kiss.

"Thanks for first shower, Dean," I say, letting my hands rest on his shoulders.

His eyebrows rise and fall before he says, "yeah, well, by the looks of it, you need it more than we do tonight."

My ear to ear smile is real, but I fake a laugh before pulling away. "Whatever," I say, but I slowly lose my smile on the way to my shower. Dean's ability to pick up on even the most subtle of changes in me are a testament to how great of a hunter he is, and even greater boyfriend. How he can't pick up on how torn I'm feeling about this wretched day I've no idea. What conflicts me further is that I know it's my responsibility to share these feelings with him. Dean may have an attention to detail I haven't seen in a partner in, well, ever, but he's not a mind reader.

The tile of the bathroom is cold under my feet, so I remove my shirt to stand on it while I wait for the water to heat up. I hear the guys shuffling and moving things in the room, keeping their voices hush, but I'm too tired to give a shit. Waving a hand under the water I decide that it's the perfect temperature and remove the rest of my clothes to get in.

I don't even realize how tense I am until the water hits my shoulders, nearly forcing me to relax under it. My body's reflexes take over and I go into autopilot as I think about today and Valentine's Day is already almost over, but we did nothing… at my request. I roll my eyes at myself, brushing my teeth while the conditioner sits in my hair. The scent of fruit and mint fill the room among the steam. When I rinse my hair, I imagine I'm rinsing the day away.

The mirror is completely fogged up by the time I get out. With slightly damp skin, and a towel wrapped around my head, I struggle to get my clothes on, and it frustrates me.

I open the door and allow the steam to pour into our room, and I'm immediately hit with a surprising smell. It's almost as if someone is roasting marshmallows in our motel room. I take a small, careful step and peek just my head out, eyes zeroing in on the lit candles on the table.

My eyes skip over to Dean who sits on the edge of the bed with his elbows resting on his knees, a single flower in one hand, and a mix-tape in the other. Beneath his feet is a trail of rose petals leading to the door of the bathroom. He keeps his eyes on me, a smile peaking through his lips as he awaits my next move.

Sam's eyes and mine meet before he offers an awkward smile and shuffles a few things around on his bed. He grabs his shower bag, and I take a few steps towards Dean to allow him to enter the bathroom. Dean and I are both silent until the door closes behind Sam.

"What is all this, Dean?" I asks, astonished. Moldy motel room, or 5 star suite, never in my life has anyone laid out rose petals for me. I feel my heart racing like it's ready to burst right out of my chest.

Dean smiles, standing to hand me the flower with a kiss on my cheek. My skin is warm where his lips just were, and he reaches to take my hand, guiding me to sit on our bed.

He notices my eyes glance down at the mix tape before jumping back up to his. "I've been working on this for a few weeks now," he says, shaking the tape in his hand before handing it to me.

My hand shakes when I grab it, and I flip it to see "To my Y/N/N, Love Dean," scribbled on the front. My cheeks grow hot again, but this time with embarrassment that I'd spent the whole day thinking about myself, when here's Dean blowing expectations right out of the water.

"It's, uh, all the songs that remind me of you," he says softly, and I notice the scent of my favorite candle as the flame burns. My head spins.

"I don't know what to say, Dean," I start, and he just smiles, caressing my hand with his calloused fingers, "I mean, thank you. This is the kindest, most loving thing anyone has ever done for me," I say, tears welling in my eyes.

It's overwhelming to think a personal could love someone so much that amidst hunting Heaven, Hell and everything in between he could find the time to make this moment so special.

"Aw, sweetheart, don't cry," he says, arms wrapping around me, pulling me in for a tight hug.

"I'm not crying, Dean," I contest, but I nuzzle my face into his soft, comforting shirt, allowing my arms to wrap around his torso, and under the warmth of his jacket.

I soak in the smell of his sandalwood cologne and tighten my arms around him. Kissing his chest, I mutter another "thank you" before lifting my head to look him in the eyes. He brings his hand to either side of my face, eyes looking back and forth between mine, "you're very welcome," he says, kissing me with a tenderness that takes my breath away, and I realize that it's moments like these that I want to fill my heaven with.

~~~~

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[megxplryxb]

How Can it be Over When it Never Really Started?

Pairings: Colby Brock x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slight mention of smut, Kat and Sam's break up is discussed (no sides taken), No mentions of y/n

Notes: I haven't written for Colby in over a year so please be kind, I know i'm a little rusty.

The Las Vegas air was hot and sticky as you reluctantly opened the car door, removing yourself from the refreshing air conditioning of your BMW. The car locked with a beep as you tossed your keys into your handbag, rummaging around for a clip to tie your hair back, already feeling uncomfortable in the warmth of the desert. Dry gravel crunched under your converse, the hot sun already kissing your skin as you approached the entrance of an all too familiar house.

Everything looked as it did the last time you’d been here. The overgrown bushes at the side of the house still needing to be trimmed, the walls still screaming for a fresh coat of paint and the lights you’d all hung up for Christmas still dangling from the trees in the yard. But while things looked the same, the feeling was completely different. It was strange, quiet and sad. Any other time before today, you’d have walked in, skipping through the house, singing and dancing, looking for Katrina, but she didn’t live here anymore and that’s exactly the reason why you were here now.

Kat and Sam had broken up three weeks ago, ending their seven plus year relationship which came as a shock to many. While it was mostly amicable, she just couldn’t bring herself to return to the house she had shared with her ex boyfriend to pick up the last of her things. So instead, you had volunteered to go, wanting to make things as easy as possible for her.

It had been a rough couple of weeks for your best friend, the break up hitting her hard and she'd never felt more alone. Kat had been staying with a friend for the last couple of weeks, tying up some loose ends before she left Vegas in the rear view mirror once and for all. You arrived yesterday, driving to Sin City to help with her move back to LA, knowing that she needed you now more than ever. Break ups were never easy and you wanted her to know she didn't have to go through this alone.

Taking a deep breath in, you pressed the ring doorbell, stomach in knots as you waited patiently for a response. Sam knew you were coming, you’d organised it with him yesterday to make sure it was ok, not wanting to completely blindside him upon your arrival. Of course he didn't mind. It hadn't been easy for him either and you were sure he was just as heartbroken as Kat.

“Hey, I’ll be right down.” You heard a familiar voice say through the speaker, your eyes widening upon the realisation that it wasn't Sam. Fuck.

“Oh hey, yeah cool, take your time.” You reply, moving back from the door, tugging at your bottom lip nervously, a sudden feeling of uneasiness creeping up on you.

There was a slight shuffle on the other side of the door before it opened and you were met not by Sam but by his best friend Colby, who you'd slept with two months ago.

“Hey stranger, long time no see." He smiles, pulling you in for a hug, wrapping himself around you. His scent was intoxicating, warm and comforting and you hated how much you had missed being in his arms.

“Hi.” You blush, reluctantly pulling away from him, avoiding his gaze until he closed the door behind you.

“You could have just walked in y’know, like you always do.” He teases as you shake your head, shrugging. “I didn’t really know what to do honestly, I guess it’s just kind of weird now that Kat’s gone.”

“Hey, you know you’re always welcome here, right? That’s never gonna change.” Colby states but you’re not sure even he believes that. You’ve seen how break ups go, how it damages not just the couple but the friends involved too.

“How is Kat? I texted her a couple of times but she hasn’t really been responding.” He frowns, biting his bottom lip. You could see the sadness in his eyes, he was hurting too. You all were.

“She’s doing ok. I mean, she’s devastated obviously but she’ll get there, it’s just going to take some time.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine what they’re both going through right now. Sam is so quiet, he’s not really talking about it much.”

“Where is he anyway?” You look around, noticing the place was oddly quiet.

“He kind of chickened out last minute. I think he was afraid you were going to murder him, so he went for a run.” He jokes but you know he’s also kind of serious.

“Why would I do that? I mean, he just broke my best friend’s heart, it’s no big deal.” You reply sarcastically.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I kind of want to kick his ass too.” The black haired boy smiles and you can’t help but notice how utterly beautiful he looks right now.

“He knows I don’t hate him, right? Like, I wish I did because it would make things a hell of a lot easier but, at least he was honest y’know? He didn’t string her along or cheat on her. I’m just sad it didn’t work out for them.” You admit, holding back your tears.

“I know, I am too, it fucking sucks.” Colby sighs, throwing an arm around you, trying to pull you closer to him but he feels how reluctant you are to lean into him.

“I better get this stuff packed into my car. We’re heading back to LA in the morning.” You say as Colby nods his head, the corner of his lips turning downwards, leading you to the kitchen where Katrina’s things are laid out on the dinning table. There’s not too much left, just some clothes and shoes, bits of make up and unopened post and a framed picture of you all at the beach from last summer when Sam and Kat were still happy and you and Colby hadn’t blurred the lines of your friendship.

“That was a good day.” Colby chuckles from behind you. His hot breath hitting the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah it was. They looked so in love here.” You frown, running your fingers over the picture.

“They were.” Colby agrees, holding the other side of the frame. “You looked so beautiful that day.” He whispers, causing you to shake your head.

“Yeah right.” You laugh, rejecting his compliment.

“I’m serious. Shit, I remember seeing you in that bikini for the first time too. All of the guys were looking at you and that douche bag asked for your number, remember?” He quizzed, causing you to chuckle. You remember it like it was yesterday, the guy strutting towards you while you sunbathed with Kat. He’d been so cocky, certain he was leaving with your number until you ran to Colby, kissing his cheek. Pleading with him to go with it and pretend to be your boyfriend. He did it without a second thought, arms draped over your body, nuzzled into your neck, placing little kisses on your shoulder until the guy got the hint and left you alone.

“Of course I remember, you wanted to kill that guy.” You tease, turning to face Colby who looks at the picture once more. “Yeah, I did. Fuck, I was so jealous.” He curses as you furrow your brows, a little surprised by his admission.

“Why?” You ask, your breath hitching as he takes the frame from your hands, placing it on the table.

“You know why.” He insists, his lips hovering over your own, backing you into the table as your heart fluttered.

There had always been something between you and Colby, an unspoken attraction that neither of you dared to explore until two months ago. The timing for anything other than a friendship had never been quite right, one or both you seeing other people. But he had always been flirty with you, sharing subtle touches or glances when no one else was looking and for the longest time, that had been it. That was until New Years Eve, at a house party hosted by Jake and Tara. Colby had been by your side all night, getting your drinks, laughing and dancing and when the clock struck midnight his lips were immediately on yours, like he’d been waiting an eternity to kiss you. It only took you a moment to kiss him back, his hands finding a home on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, ignoring all the whistles around you, your friends screaming that it was about damn time.

Not long after, you arrived back at the house, the kiss not being enough for either one of you, both of you needing more urgently. Colby had quickly dragged you upstairs, undressing each other before you even reached his bedroom, lips never parting as he pressed you into his mattress. It wasn't what you thought it would be like, it was slow and sweet and Colby took his time with you, afraid he'd only get one chance at this. The next morning you awoke in his arms, limbs still tangled under the sheets until you managed to wiggle your way out without waking him, leaving before you had to have an awkward conversation about the night before.

"Colby, I can't do this right now." You sigh, shaking off your thoughts as you move away from him again.

“Do what?” He asks, raising a brow.

“Do this, whatever this is..” you state as he lets out a deep breath.

“Are we ever gonna talk about it?” He questions, folding his tattooed arms across his toned chest.

“What is there to talk about? It was just sex, wasn't it?" You shrug, causing him to scoff and you swear you can see a look of hurt on his face.

“We both know it was more than that.” He states, staring at you, almost begging you to be honest with yourself.

“When has it ever been more than that for you, Colby?” You argue, taking aim at his long list of conquests.

“When it was with you." He answers honestly, leaving you shocked. “That night when we kissed, I thought that was it, you know? That me and you were finally on the same page about us. But when I woke up the next morning you were gone and I never heard from you."

"I wanted to save you the trouble of telling me it was a one time thing." You admitted, lowering your head, embarrassed to look at him right now.

"That's all you thought that was to me? Do you not know me at all?" The boy asks as you let out a nervous laugh.

"Yes, I know you Colby, which is exactly why I left! I've seen your countless one night stands walk out that door the next morning, hoping that you'll call them again and you never do! You just move on to the next one and I'm not judging you, that's who you are. I just didn't want to be one of those girls that expected more from you." Colby looks at you, shaking his head, a prominent frown on his face as he walks closer to you. This time you don't move, frozen still as he cups your face.

"But that's just it, you're not like those other girls. There's always been something between us, more than a friendship, more than just sex. You make me laugh more than anybody, I don't have to pretend to be someone else when I'm with you. You've seen me at my worst and you got me through it, you Kat and Sam. Baby, I was an idiot for so fucking long, dating people I shouldn't have dated, being friends with people who I didn't even like. But I know what I want now and I want you. I want everything with you." He confesses, as you try to hold back tears.

"Colby, I..."

“What, honey? Tell me what you want?” He asks, his face inches away from yours and you could easily kiss him right now.

You know exactly what you wanted. When it came to Colby Brock, you’ve always known.

You’ve wanted it before he ever put his lips on yours, before you ever let him take you in his bed all those weeks ago and before he ever muttered that you were his as he came deep inside of you for the first time.

You wanted him, all of him but you knew that was something that just wasn't possible right now. Just as you were about to speak, the front door opened and closed with a gentle bang, footsteps approaching the kitchen as you quickly broke apart.

"Hey." Sam spoke, removing his headphones as you placed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes moved to Colby, who he knew would chew him out for this later.

"Hi." You greeted, moving to give him a hug.

"I'm sorry, I totally just interrupted something didn't I?" The blonde boy questions as you shake your head.

"Yep." Colby nods as you shoot him a look.

"No you didn't, honestly. I was just leaving." You reassure Sam but Colby takes your hand. "Please, don't go, we still have things to talk about."

You bite your lip, eyes focused on Colby as he pleads with you to finish your conversation.

"I really need to pack Kat's stuff."

"Hey, it's ok, I'll take Katrina's things to your car and leave you guys to it." Sam says as you give him a thankful nod. Once he's gone, Colby moves towards you again, his hands finding yours as you look into his ocean blue eyes, trying not to fall deeper than you already have.

"Colby, you know how I feel about you. Jesus, I was never good at hiding it." You joke, earning a small laugh from him as his fingers circle your palm. "But, right now, Sam needs you, like Kat needs me. We can't be together when they're like this, still heartbroken and lost." You state, beginning to choke up.

"Why not?" Colby questions, raising a brow.

"Because if we're together and one of them eventually moves on with someone else, it's going to get messy. They'll fight about it, they'll ask us to take sides and then we'll fight about it and probably break up and both be miserable too! Everything's just too complicated right now, not to mention we'd have to do long distance because I'll be in LA and you'll be here and–" You ramble on as Colby places his forehead on yours.

"It kind of sounds like you've already thought about this a lot." He teases, as you wrap your arms around his waist.

"Being with you, is all I ever think about." You whisper before he captures your lips with his. For a moment, you finally give in to him, melting into his touch as he deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue over your bottom lip before he slides it into your mouth. He swallows a moan from within you, pressing you up against the counter as you grab his shirt, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." He groans, placing wet kisses on your neck as you throw your head back. Suddenly, your phone vibrates in your pocket and you know it's Kat checking up on you. You had asked her to call you to make sure you didn't accidentally end up in Colby's bed upon your arrival and you were sure you would have ended up there if not for your best friend saving you at the last minute.

"Colby, shit, it's Kat." You whine as he finally detaches his lips from your skin. Once you told Kat everything was ok and that you were on your way, you hung up, both of you attempting to catch your breath.

"I really have to go." You state as he nods his head, pulling you close once more.

"Look, I know you think things might get complicated but that's only if we let them, right? I want to try and make this work, I want to be with you no matter what happens between them. I've honestly never felt this way about anyone before and I don't want to lose you." He confesses, kissing your hand as your knees almost go from under you.

"I don't want to lose you either." You reveal, a tear sliding down your cheek as he wipes it away.

"So, can we do this? Me and you, like officially?" He asks, grinning like an idiot as you shake your head.

"Slow down Mr. Brock, you haven't even taken me on a proper date yet." You tease as he kisses you again. "Oh, so it's like that huh?"

"Yeah, it's like that." You chuckle.

Well lucky for you I'm coming to LA next week, so how about I take you out then?" He suggests, as you wrap your arms around him.

"If we do this, we take this slow ok? Start with a couple of dates and see how things go?" You suggest as he nods in agreement.

"Sweetheart, we can go as slow as you want, just give me a chance to show you how happy I can make you?" He begs but you already know the answer.

Yeah, Colby Brock was a risk worth taking.

[satoruoo]

VIA VIA VIA HEAR ME OUT. secret santa b they get u and accidentally spill it / the big reveal…

(NOT SO) SECRET SANTA - aki hayawaka

summary: despite aki's best efforts to keep your gift a secret, his (stupid) roommates somehow manage to spoil the surprise.

genre: fluff, non-devil au, everyone is happy, crack

warnings: swearing, denji, f!reader, suggestive

notes: hope u like it babe !! this is my apology for the recent aki slander 😈🔥

now playing: rockin' around the christmas tree - brenda lee

"for the millionth time, do not tell [name] i got her, understood?"

denji and power sit crossed-legged on the floor, looking only half interested in what aki is saying. they're dressed in christmas gear from head to toe, heads swaying slightly to the christmas music coming from the record player.

power looks awfully happy with the pair of antlers that denji unwillingly brought her from the store after she threatened to throw a fit in the middle of the aisle. they're decorated with little bells, and every time she nods her head, aki can visibly tell how delighted she is from the jingles that they make. she now refuses to take them off.

denji's gone for a more traditional approach, sporting a santa hat with a light up pom pom at the end.

(the hat also says "ho! ho! ho!" if the button on the left is pressed, but denji had overused it so much that aki cut it open and took out the speaker. he then burnt the speaker. denji was told told it must have broken.)

"duh, i ain’t a snitch!" denji claims, saluting his roommate with a shit-eating grin. he would snitch, aki is fully aware of that. bribe him with a lollipop or a tit squeeze? done deal.

"why are we not allowed to tell her?" power asks, fiddling with rudolph's nose on her christmas jumper.

aki audibly groans, fingers working at his temples in exasperation. "because, it’s a secret santa. we aren’t supposed to tell anyone who we got."

power's face twists in mild disgust, "what is the point of that?! just give me my present now!"

aki rolls his eyes, raking his fingers through his dark hair, "because it builds the suspense, power. do you want to have all your gifts now and have none on christmas day?"

she seems to quieten at that, closing her eyes as she mulls over his words. after three agonizing seconds of her silence and aki wondering whether it'd be easier to just throw himself out of the nearest window, power pouts and nods.

denji dramatically sighs before aki can say anything further, slapping her twice on the back in an attempt to comfort her, "i feel ya, powey."

the girl mirrors the sigh, slumping against denji as she flips aki off with a scowl.

"you should thank me, human! i will not go and tell [name] that you have her!" she declares smugly, resting her body weight on the male next to her.

aki vaguely hears "ow, fuck! power, y’re crushin’ me! how the fuck are ya so heavy?!" and a loud slap that probably came from power as he walks away.

• . ✿ ° × . *.

aki really does try his hardest to keep the secret.

he finds himself slapping a hand over denji's mouth when he almost lets it spill, and shoving a piece of food into power's when the topic of the secret santa comes up.

it's only halfway through december. he doesn't know how much longer he can keep this up. he can tell you're starting to pick up on something fishy and it's beginning to stress him out.

"and so aki has-"

"what are you doing?"

power freezes up at the sound of aki's voice, head lifting from your lap as she scrambles to defend herself.

"nothing!" she says a pitch higher than usual.

your eyes narrow at aki who sends a subtle glare in power's direction before taking a seat beside you on the couch. you're immediately taking his hand in yours, rubbing the pad of your thumb over his knuckles to soothe his anger.

the man melts so quickly that it should be embarrassing, shoulders relaxing with a simple touch.

"she was telling me about secret santa," you fill in gently, "something about who everyone has."

power wishes she was dead.

the glare that aki gives her makes certain that she'll be banned from chocolates for at least a week. that's practically the same as death.

"was she now?" aki asks, an angry rumble in his throat.

the girl is looking at anything but his face; when had the wall become so interesting? look at that, is that a new vase? what are denji's pornos doing on the floor-

"why don't you tell both of us, power?"

before anything else can be said, she shoots up from her spot on the couch sweating bullets.

"meowy needs to shit!" is all she says before leaving the room at hurricane speeds. (if only she were that quick to close her mouth.)

you smile, turning to look at your boyfriend with a raised eyebrow.

"so?" you question, idly threading your fingers through his.

"so, what?" aki responds.

he can tell from the way a small laugh escapes those pretty lips that playing dumb isn't going to work.

"nothing, just a bad day." he tries, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

"you're snapping at power because of a 'bad day'?" you state, scepticism evident in your tone. "righhhht."

aki chuckles into your flesh, placing a chaste kiss there before pulling away. "yeah, that's all."

you press a kiss to his lips, tongue swiping over his. "sure, okay. i'll let you have this one, handsome."

the edges of his mouth tip up at the nickname and silent relief fills his veins at the clarification that you won't push the matter.

"thanks, love."

• . ✿ ° × . *.

aki swears on his life that he tries his hardest to keep the secret.

it's just that denji and power are not good secret keepers. they're a pair of loudmouths who are easily bribed. if not for your presence to keep him sane, aki's sure he would have strangled denji and confiscated power's antlers. actually, he's sure that if the gift he'd gotten you wasn't so important, he'd have let his roommates tell you already.

"makima, c'monnnn! i licked the floor so ya owe me a tit squeeze!" denji whines in a kneeling position on the floor.

going out for christmas lunch with you, his two roommates and makima may be one of the best and worst decisions aki's ever made in his life.

power still has her antlers on with a scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, you had to persuade her to wear it, as she makes fun of her friend. there are still remnants of the snowball fight he was forced to engage in on her coat, and her nose is pink from the one denji threw in her face.

denji is as desperate as ever - shame didn't seem to find a place in his vocabulary. his purposefully broken santa hat is still finding a home atop his dirty blonde hair, though the pom pom looks like it's about to give up and fall off.

you on the other hand look ethereal in his eyes, a smile etched into your gorgeous features. with every small giggle that escapes your lips, aki feels his chest constrict almost painfully, heart thumping loudly within his ribcage.

you're still holding his hand; you have been for the past three hours.

"only if you tell me who aki has for secret santa, denji." makima answers, voice silky smooth.

it's meant as a joke 100%. everyone else in the room, even power, understood the joke. curse aki for forgetting denji's inability to read social cues.

"he has [name]!!"

on december 23rd, the day before christmas eve, denji tells makima who he has for secret santa in exchange for a tit squeeze. typical.

there's silence for a while. no one really knows what to say. all eyes are on the dark-haired male who genuinely seems to be in the middle of a breakdown.

denji's all frozen up and fully ready to make a run for it if needs be.

"i already know he has me, though." you say, confused.

comically, multiple heads whip towards you.

"...you do?" aki breathes, annoyance towards denji disappearing as fast as it came.

"well if you didn't already know, you suck at keeping secrets, honey. i've known for ages."

part of him feels relieved. if you already knew, then technically he didn't fuck up. technically, it didn't even count-

"it doesn't take a genius to figure it out, you know."

"for real, bro. i knew ya sucked ass like in general but not at lying as well-"

denji will be dead by morning.

BONUS:

"your secret santa gift was an engagement ring?" power asks, mortified.

"what a shitty gift!" denji pipes up, "it's not even edible- ow!"

you chuckle, fiddling with the ring that fits perfectly around your finger as aki smacks denji's arm.

"really? i think it's a wonderful gift." you muse, "it'll last way longer than food."

"so what?! food stays in your tummy forever!" power argues with her hand pointing at her stomach.

"no the fuck it doesn't! ya shit it out, duh!"

their bickering falls upon deaf ears as aki steals a sneaky kiss from you.

"merry christmas, [name]. i hope we'll spend many more together." his cheeks are definitely not dusted pink as he says that. not at all.

[chocolatechubby]

Maybe it was the glass of heavy cream and dozen gingerbread men I ate just before bedtime. Or maybe it was the fact that it was Christmas Eve, and the residue of waiting up for Santa Claus hadn’t diminished in the 23 years since I was six years old. Maybe it was the hard on that wouldn’t go away if I thought about growing fat and round. Whatever it was, I couldn’t sleep. I reluctantly pulled my bloated body from my warm bed to take a piss and a crap in the bathroom. On the way to the john, I passed the Christmas tree in the living room. The shiny packages underneath danced with the reflections of twinkling lights. I’d made quite a haul this year. I was pretty sure the small neatly wrapped package in the front was an Ipod from my mom. And I was pretty sure that the envelope from my ex-partner was a membership to a gym. My gaining sixty pounds had a lot to do with our break-up. It was nice that we were still friends. “Funny…” I thought. “The thing I REALLY want Santa to bring me won’t fit under a tree.”

When I had finished in the bathroom, I took a long look at myself in the mirror. The 160lb gym rat was gone. There in front of me was a 220lb jock-gone-soft. Since I had continued to go to the gym, I was thick and solid. The roundness of my face was beginning to cut away my cheek definition. The beginnings of a double chin made my cock jump. The definition in my arms was beginning to fade: I loved putting on sleeveless shirts and seeing the thick round guns that were once defined biceps and triceps stretching through. My legs were growing huge. The size 38 pants were straining to keep my thighs in. And I had a real belly. Not the beginning gut I was so proud of in college, but a thick waist protruding over my jeans and a noticeable round mound that jutted out from my plump tits and curved forward six inches. It had gotten a number of rubs and stares from my co-workers over the past few weeks. I thought my pecker was going to fall off from all the jerking off I did in the office restrooms after each “Woah! When’s the baby due?” or “You’d better lay off the holiday food Chris!” But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I wanted to look like all of those fellas that I admired online. I wanted people to move out of the way when I walked down the street. I wanted to look in the mirror and be awed by my girth. I reached down in my shorts and began massaging my cock. I imagined what it would be like to have to work pass mounds of belly fat just to touch it. I could feel my hard on growing, and my dick was responding to both my touch and my fantasy. It wouldn’t be long now—at least not for the explosion from my balls. The weight gain would take more time.

As I was going for climax, I heard a sound. Not from me but coming from the living room. At first faint, it grew louder—a slow and steady rise and fall. A snore? It sounded like someone snoring. Maybe somehow the air conditioner had turned itself on. I listened a little more intently. No, this was a HUMAN sound. Someone had broken into my apartment! I pulled up my shorts, looked around for a blunt object, grabbed the toilet brush, and headed towards the sound. As I rounded the corner, I was not prepared for what I saw. There in my leather armchair next to the Christmas tree, snoring to high heaven was Santa Claus.

Only it wasn’t Santa Claus. I mean he was dressed in a beautiful red suit—far superior to all those costumed Santas that you see in department stores. This suit looked like it had been tailored for him: luxurious and warm—trimmed in ermine and leather. It fit his big round frame to a “t.” He had to weigh 350, if a pound, and his thick beard was close-cropped, neatly trimmed, and a deep auburn like the wavy hair that curled from under his fur cap. This guy couldn’t have been more than thirty-five years old. And he was gorgeous. During my whole relationship with my ex, Zach, I had never cheated. But I will admit—especially towards the end when he started nagging more about the weight—I had serious fantasies about dudes like the one asleep in my easy chair, but they never included being robbed by them.

Next to him on the floor was a big, empty red velvet sack. I had to admit: this guy had class. I’d read stories in the newspaper about thieves breaking into houses dressed as Santa Claus and taking people’s presents. I never thought it would happen to me. Pictures of the Grinch stuffing Cindy Lou Who’s Christmas tree in his sack crowded my brain. Well this sucker wasn’t getting MY Ipod without a fight!

I tiptoed over to where the hot thief was snoring, and I kicked his engineer boot and stepped back—toilet bowl brush held high. “Hey you!” I shouted. The guy stirred. I gave him my best grimace and said: “What the hell do you think you’re doing in my place?!” He opened one eye and peered up at my brush and me. He grinned (and of course he had a killer smile) and said, “What are you going to do? Tidy Bowl me to death?”

I wasn’t quite ready for such a laid-back attitude. It took me aback for a moment. “No, smart ass…” I answered finally. “… I’m going to call the police and have you hauled off to spend Christmas in jail—that’s what I’m going to do!!!” I bellowed triumphantly. “Oh, and for future reference: Santa has a WHITE beard—not red! You are NO Kris Kringle.”

“Actually, his beard isn’t white. It’s silver. And you’re right…I’m not Kris Kringle. He’s my dad. I’m KARL Kringle—his youngest son.”

Of all the responses in all the scenarios that I could imagine, not one of them included that particular statement. I stood in shock with my mouth open. He fumbled around for a bit and spoke: “This is what I get for breaking the first rule of Christmas Delivery: Don’t Fall Asleep. It’s just that it’s been a long night and seeing as this is my Last Stop and all, I couldn’t help myself.” He yawned and started hauling his big belly out of my chair “Look, don’t set off your loaded brush—I’m just looking for my wallet.” He was even more appealing standing. He was a fireplug: about my height (which made him somewhat short), he reminded me of Sean Astin as Samwise Gamgee in “The Lord of the Rings”: much bigger, but as cute as he could be. He patted himself down, searching around his big gut and barrel chest for a bulge. “Ahh, here it is!” He pulled out a simple leather wallet and flipped it open. “See.” He said.

I slowly inched forward and took the wallet out of his chubby hand. There he was, smiling with rosy cheeks. NORTH POLE DMV: Driver’s Permit was printed in white at the top of a red and green card. “May operate cars, trucks, motorcycles, snow skis and High-Capacity Sleighs” was prominently placed in the lower right hand corner.

“Real cute” I smirked. “So you’re a clever bandit. I’m sure your cell mate will get a real kick out of your sense of humor.”

“Man, some things don’t change, do they?” He smiled. “You’re still a closet believer posing as a skeptic aren’t you? I remember when you were six years old and wanted ‘Dream Date Ken’. You said to yourself, ‘I’ll believe in Santa if he brings me Ken.’ When you didn’t see it under the tree that Christmas morning, you were really sad, but you said, ‘I knew he wasn’t real.’ Boy were you surprised when you found it…”

“Hidden in your stocking!”

“Hidden in my stocking!”

We said it at the exact same time. My mouth was agape. “How did you know that?” I uttered. “Because I asked Dad if I could put it there.” Karl said. “I was twelve. Dad had been training me to take a route of my own. I had been coming with him since you were a baby—watching you grow up. I wanted you to work harder to trust your beliefs.”

I stumbled to my couch and sat down. This was incredible! So it was true: Santa really DID exist. “Yup.” Karl said, as if he’d read my mind. “Only the doubters have got part of the story right: he DOESN’T circle the world and deliver toys in one night. He hasn’t done that in a few hundred years. He has help from his sons.”

“Sons” I gasped, with emphasis on the “s.” “You mean there’s more of you?”

“Oh yeah” said Karl. “It's the family business. There’s Kris Jr., Kevin, Kurt, Klaus, Kyle, Keith, and Kwame.”

“Kwame?” I asked.

“Yeah, a little incident with dad and an African Queen a few years back…we don’t talk about that.” He whispered.

“So we divide up the earth and each take a chunk. Dad spends most of his time these days with the kids that need him most. He took India and New Orleans this year.”

“I see…” I said. “And you got my area.”

“Well, not so much GOT, as CHOSE your area. I told you. I’ve been watching you for many years. I’ve been waiting for that jerk of a boyfriend of yours to exit the picture. I’ve been crushing on you for a while now. I happen to be gay.”

“Oh.” My dick was jumping at regular intervals now. “Are all of you uh…?”

“Gay?” He said. “I doubt it. Nobody’s talking so we don’t really know. I’m pretty sure Kwame is. He keeps picking San Francisco as one of his stops. Listen, do you mind if I make myself comfortable?” he asked. “Uh…no.” I stammered, still trying to make sense of the fact that I had a big, bearded Santa Claus in my living room that was hot for me. “Great” he said and proceeded to undo his belt and buttons. His velvet coat fell to the floor, revealing the magnificent fat physique bulging from his white undershirt. His big, gorgeous arms were covered with a layer of soft red fur, and I could see tendrils of the same curling from under the neckline of his t. He began playing with his nipples as he slowly moved his ball belly towards me. “Listen,” he said again. “…do you mind if I make YOU more comfortable?”

“Uh…no.” was my startled reply.

We stood face to face. The heat between us was more intense than anything I’d ever felt before. He smelled of smoldering fires and apples and cinnamon. He leaned in, and I felt his cock. “So THAT’S what’s meant by Christmas Sausage! “I thought. He pulled me into him and whispered, “I’ve been waiting 29 years for this” and moved his tongue over my lips and into my mouth. He tasted like warm cocoa. His belly met mine and I moaned at the solid thickness of his girth. Our tongues swirled together in a hot dance that left me weak and energized at the same time. I could have stayed like that forever.

Karl ran his thick hands over my nipples, slightly squeezing them between his fingers. He slowly traveled down to my belly and began massaging it with both hands. I was in heaven. “Such a beautiful starter belly. I was so hot for you when you started putting on weight that I had to stop working in the toyshop—couldn’t concentrate. Kept making Barbie dolls with penises!”

“Oh.” I mumbled—trying to get his tongue back in my mouth.

“And now I’m with you” he said, caressing my cheek. “And we’ve got all night. He leaned over and kissed my gut. “I’m going to give you that present that won’t fit under the tree.”

For a moment I was stirred from my reverie. Had he really the power to know what my deepest desires were? I tested him. “Oh yes? “I whispered in his ear. “What might that be.”

“Don’t be coy Chris” he smiled. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. By dawn, you will be fed, fucked, and fat as a house. Are you ready to get started?”

TO BE CONTINUED

[lavendermunson]

ribbon - steve harrington

day 4 of leia's christmas tree farm

cw max has a tiny accident. er/hospital setting. one use of y/n. grey!reader (she is mer’s sister, it can be half sister too). steve calls max his sister. they all moved to seattle for some reason

a/n i had a very different idea for this but it didn’t work out, i hope you like this i came up with at the very last minute

“What do we have here?” Doctor Torres approaches Max, she whines as the pain in her arm only gets worse. “A broken wrist, how did this happen?”

“An accident on the sleigh ride,” Steve says, “Although I’m sure she was just being rebellious”

“I told you I had to beat Mike” Max groans, feeling the doctor’s hands on her as a resident comes back with an X-ray sheet. 

The resident is all glammed up. Red lips, red shoes. The lab coat covered her black dress and most of her figure. She looks absolutely beautiful and Steve can feel himself drooling over her. 

The thing that makes his knees buckle, is the big red ribbon on her head.

“Looks half fine, just broken. I’ll get someone to put a cast on you and you are free to go” She smiles at Max, who is only focused on her pain going away soon or she’ll start complaining again.

“I can do it!” you say, your sweet voice piercing Steve’s ears. 

“But we have to go to our party!” 

“I’ll tell Mer to take me, she’s still in surgery,” you say, approaching the patient’s chart to check some things before calling an intern to help. “I will do this quickly, Max. Don’t worry”

As you leave to get all prepared, one of your interns comes to Max’s room. Waiting for you to help the little girl as soon as possible. 

“Hey,” Steve calls the intern. “What’s the pretty doctor’s name? The one with the red ribbon?” 

“Can you not? I'm working!” he says, slightly annoyed.

"Yeah, Steve. Keep it in your pants" Max says, making fun of Steve's flushed face.

You come back to the room, while a nurse helps you with everything you need to get Max a cast. 

“Are you close relatives with the patient?” you ask Steve, looking at him. His eyes get lost in yours, on how they shine under these big and creepy hospital lights. 

“Yeah, I’m her brother” 

“Alright, then you can stay and fill this form for me please” Steve takes the chart out of your hands and you help Max to sit down. You start teaching your intern and guiding him through the process. 

Steve can only get lost on you. The way every one of your words comes out so soft as your cherry-colored lips move. He glanced at your chest, his cheeks go red when his eyes make contact with your cleavage. He looks away, this is not the place for that, he says to himself. 

The blue disposable gloves cover your manicured hands but he sees your gold, delicate bracelet fall from your wrist. He makes a mental note not to mention it until you’re done, Max comes first rather than some casual flirt. 

“We are done! How are you feeling?”

“I feel better, thank you,” Max says, a smile finally showing on her face. You mirror her excitement and relief, with a big smile on your face too. 

And Steve, he wants to fall on his knees and ask you to marry him right now. He notices how you talk to your intern, to the nurses, and to other people walking by. Your bubbly personality has him captive, he just stares and stares until you are gone.

As the intern takes the chart from Steve's hands and disappears he gets lost in his thoughts.

“Steve! Look, her bracelet” Max screams, calling for the older boy as she gets up. And finds your gold bracelet on the floor “Go get her, something good has to come out of this” she encourages him. Steve runs away from the ER as fast as he can. Looking for the big red ribbon on your head.

“Hey, you okay? Do you need something?” A doctor, much taller and older than him stops him on his way. 

“I’m okay i just-“ he tries to ease his breath “Do you know the doctor with the red ribbon? I think she is a resident here”

“Oh, little Grey?” The man makes fun of him, looking how desperate he looks. Steve only wants to know your name, maybe get introduced to you, damn. Why is this so difficult? 

“Grey! Yeah, I think” he murmurs, looking around for you. “So you know her”

“I do, I'm pretty close with her sister. Do you need anything from her?“ He looks at Steve and laughs again. He doesn’t look worried or sick, he looks like he just got up on a cloud.

“I just want to get her this” he holds the piece of gold in his hand “It fell when she was taking care of my sister”

“Oh! The ladies are in a rush today, they have Christmas ladies’ night” Steve’s face is pale, from being in love to running for the pretty girl in a space of minutes. He was having a normal day and then all turned upside down “But I'm sure you can catch them in the parking lot, I don't know. I hope you do”

He nods, getting ready to run again. “Thank you…”

“Derek, Derek Shepherd”

“I’m Steve Harrington. I owe you one!” his voice echoes in the empty hallway, He runs towards the stairs because the elevator would take so much time.

You got this, all those years of basketball should work now. But they don’t, Steve is slightly older and slower. As much as he hates to admit. But he makes his way to the parking lot, searching for your ribbon again, and when he finds it, he finds you. His heart skips a beat. 

“Hey! You were with my sister earlier I just wanted to give you this” Steve says as you turn to face him, blushing as your eyes meet his.

“Oh! you are so kind, thank you so much” You smile. “My sister gave it to me, if I were to lose it I swear she’d kill me!”

“Looks like I saved your life today, you were so kind to Max- my sister. I’m the one who should thank you” he glances at your hand while carefully holding your bracelet between his fingers, a dash of anticipation in his eyes. 

“Don’t thank me. It’s part of my job and I love to help” 

"Can I?"

"Please"

You get closer to him, and he can feel his hands shake. Your scent invades his nose, soft remnants of your vanilla perfume and a dash of your lavender body wash. He clasps the bracelet around your wrist, the touch of his fingers against your skin is velvety. He pauses for a moment, savoring the quick seconds close to you.

“And what you just did was so kind, i hope this pays up” You leave a peck on his cheek, it’s soft just like he imagined. But it only makes him yearn for more.

“I’m Steve, by the way,” he says, offering you a hand for you to shake it. 

“I’m y/n, nice to meet you”

“Can I, uhm. Can I see you again? Some time?” he looks at the way your cheeks are also flushed, just like his. “If you want, of course” 

“Yes. Yes, I would like that” 

“Tomorrow around eight sounds good?” he asks, smiling proudly as his charm seems to work.

“I actually can’t, I have surgery at six and I'm not sure if I’ll make it”

“I can just come by at eight and wait for you, I can get you every oversized candy bar you want from the vending machine” 

You giggle, covering your face with your hand and trying to hide your rosy cheek. Everything you do is so adorable. 

“Sure, only if you let me get you a coffee after” 

He nods, looking at you. He can’t keep his eyes away from you. “I’m new in the city so I’ll accept the coffee and maybe a tour?”

“A night tour, of course!” 

Lucky, lucky Steve. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, and you look pretty by the way”

“Thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow Steve”

You leave another peck on his cheek, this time the opposite one. He waves his hand as you meet your friends to leave for dinner.

When Steve gets to his apartment with Max by his side, he forgets everyone was waiting for him. But he returns home proud, looking like a winner while everyone asks and comments about the lipstick stains on his cheeks.  He looks at himself in the mirror, the way the tint of your red lipstick left a mark on either side of his face. He smiles, knowing that he can get them off and tomorrow he will get home with new ones. He is sure of it.

reblog to support your creators! comments are appreciated !! ♡ thank you for following my christmas event, remember you can still request a gift!

[setthephaserstorot]

Mfw

Apologies to future mes and yous

But I can't help feeling like we're through

The ripping of the tape hurts my ears

In my years, I have never seen anyone quit quite like you do

Twin bruises on my shins

From where I kicked the back of the seat in

They meant what I went through for you

But now they're fading, now they're gone

These teenage hands

Will never touch yours again

But I remember you, you had a body

You had hands and arms and legs and et cetera

Did I fail? Did I fall?

(In the morning when I wake up, are you mine?)

Did I waste my time, waste my time on a broken heart?

(Take the trash out like a bad dream, are you gone?)

Or is this the start of the great silence?

(From the old house, the fiercest heart spoke, are you mine?)

Is this the start of every day?

(Christmas tree's dead, you know how time flies, are you gone?)

I'm not gonna end up a nervous wreck

Like the people I know who are nervous wrecks

Though I'm not gonna name names

(Yours was an exception)

Did the sound just stop?

At the end of every day

There'll be nothing left to say

There'll be no backstage pass

We gotta go back

We gotta go back

We gotta go back

We gotta go back

We gotta go back

We gotta go back

We gotta go back

We gotta go back

We gotta go back

We gotta go back

We gotta go back

We gotta go back

We gotta go back

We gotta go back

We gotta go back

Don't get too impressed

You might lose your breath

Don't predict your death

'Cause I like you the best

Don't you fall apart

You might lose my heart

You know I love your art

The ocean washed over your grave

The ocean washed open your grave

The ocean washed over your grave

The ocean washed open your grave

The ocean washed over your grave

The ocean washed open your grave

The ocean washed over your grave

The ocean washed open your grave

The ocean washed over your grave

The ocean washed open your grave

The ocean washed over your grave

The ocean washed open your grave

The ocean washed over your grave

The ocean washed open your grave...

So descend into cliché

If you've found your holy grail

I could fill back in that grave

I could hammer in that nail

I could give you what you want

I could give you what you deserve

I could sing another song

I could watch that hammer swerve

And when the mirror breaks

I wouldn't miss it for the world

Call it blackstar, call it painstar

The same thing happens when you touch it

Did they tell you what happens when you touch it?

Let me tell you what happens when you touch it...

Let me, let me, let

Let me

Let me

So descend into cliché

If the music has forsaken you

Roll the stone over the grave

I never liked that one anyways

Or stare into the face

Of whatever it is that's facing you

And if the levee breaks

You'll find out what it is that's replacing you

And when the mirror breaks

I wouldn't miss it for the world

Call it blackstar

Call it painstar

The same thing happens when you touch it

Did they tell you what happens when you touch it?

Did they tell you what happens when you touch it?

Did they tell you

Did they tell me

What happened to you?

(It'll take some time

But somewhere down the line

We won't be)

Love never fails

But where there are prophecies, they will cease

Where there are tongues, they will be stilled

Where there is knowledge, it will pass away

For we know in part and we prophesy in part

But when completeness comes, what is in part disappears.

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child,

I reasoned like a child. When I abandoned my childhood

I put these ways behind me.

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror;

Then we shall see face to face.

Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known

And now these two remain

[dbgdbw]

568.Familiar Task

익숙한 일

[ Victory Condition: Opponent Is Rendered Dead Or Unable To Continue ] 

[ The Deaths And Injuries Incurred In This Space Will Not Be Reflected In Real Life ] 

[ Forfeiting Is Possible ] 

The message windows flashed up one after the other. There was a clause that stated that, depending on the turn the match took, the footage may end up being censored as well. But in my case, such a message was irrelevant. This, what was taking place here–how could it possibly be deemed fit to be aired.

“...I don’t remember putting my name down on the paperwork, though.”

I murmured in a small voice, dazed.

“The questionnaire was probably just an illusionary tactic anyway.”

Han Yoojin spoke. 

“The number of people who actually bothered to answer truthfully probably only amounted to a scant few, in any case.”

‘Truthfully,’ he said. I’d. As though he’d read my thoughts, Han Yoojin continued on.

“You want to kill me, right. Not that it’s surprising, considering.”

Seeing him remark upon it so casually, it made me remember the Han Yoojin from the Christmas Dungeon. A knife fight had broken out back then too, I remembered. It was a disturbing memory, true, but thanks to that recollection, I found myself able to regain a measure of composure.

“Yeah, well. If it’s a question of ‘the person I’d most like to get a good stab in at,’ I suppose I can see how things panned out this way.”

There was no reason for me to feel rattled. It wasn’t like this was the first time something like this had happened. The Han Yoojin before me now was one that didn’t even hold up to a Dungeon monster, and probably a single-use copy, besides.

“Though it does feel distasteful. At any rate–it seems like you’re aware that you’re a fake.”

“It’s more of a ‘mirror’ situation. Instead of an ‘independently conscious’ copy with its own directives, it’s so that whichever side wins, whoever is left will still be the ‘real’ one.”

“Ah… ‘s that so.”

This kind of setup left a bad taste in my mouth, after all. That guy probably had even stronger feelings about it, though. Since whether he was a ‘Shade’ or whatever, he still had a consciousness of his own too, apparently. When he would have had the same set of memories as me, being placed in a scenario where you were expecting to be used and disappear–I couldn’t even begin to imagine how he would’ve been feeling.

“Poor hapless bastard.”

Han Yoojin saw my expression and smirked.

“And who’s your pity being reserved for, exactly?”

“Ah, sorry, if it offended you.”

“No reason for me to feel offended.”

Han Yoojin glanced around at his surroundings. Following suit, I cast my eyes around as well. White walls and a potted tree with wide, green leaves came into view. It was a fairly spacious room. A singular long sofa furnished the place, and a domed light was embedded into the ceiling. There wasn’t a single window to be seen; just a large, lone door.

“The broadcast’s been turned off. Most importantly, even Chatterbox is incapable of observing this too, right.”

“Since if he’d known, he would’ve tried something with that knowledge already. So it shouldn’t be false intel.”

“Han Yoojin has.”

A pale white gun appeared in Han Yoojin’s hand. The tips of my fingers twitched reflexively. Though there was the thought, whether or not I should also respond in kind–well. 

“A great many things he must still attend to.”

If this guy really was a copy of me.

“Above all else–he must retrieve Han Yoohyun.”

A finger gently alighted on the muzzle. It trailed a path along the length of the barrel. 

“And take responsibility, no. Then there’s the other people as well, I suppose. In any case, even barring those things–since ‘I’ am ‘’you’ as well.”

If it were me. Instead of attacking me.

“Then–you must live.”

The muzzle pressed up against the underside of his chin. Without a shred of hesitation or delay. 

“But it’s fine if I die.”

탕

The gunshot echoed. There was no blood. Hit by the recoil, I saw the body jolt before it slowly toppled backwards. It thumped down just like that, limbs spread akimbo. The gun clattered against the ground with a loud sound. 

“...ah, Eunhae.”

I heard the words mumbled in a small voice.

“I can’t even turn it off. Ah, a message popped up. Hey–looks like suicide isn’t legal, as far as they’re concerned. Since I’m not the participant, I can’t even withdraw either, it seems like.”

“...you.”

“What.”

Han Yoojin barked out a laugh.

“Listen, you goddamn lunatic, do you actually think that just because I’m a fake, I’d want to become the ‘real’ one. Maybe that would be the case for someone else–but not you. Not that you can die, anyway.”

I took a step forward. Han Yoojin remained laying down. He didn’t seem to have any intention of getting up. After heaving a long sigh, his chest rose and fell with his breaths.

“You’re going to have to keep hiding, and repressing, and pretending like everything’s fine–but that’s not the case for me, alright? I can just die here, and that’s that. I would’ve helped Han Yoojin on his quest to recover Han Yoohyun, and that would’ve been my role fulfilled. I can go out on a high note, is what I’m getting at.”

“.......”

“But you–you’re doomed to remain in that damnable state. Without an end in sight, without knowing how to even go about things, floundering desperately all the while.”

“...even then, things’ve, gotten a little better.”

His laughter increased in volume. The condescending lilt to it was clear.

“Since you’ve managed to ensnare your dongsaeng to you, sure, I’m certain you’re enjoying yourself quite a bit. But a burden is all that it ultimately amounts to, right. Of course you can feel happy in the moment. Since you’re trying your damndest to keep from thinking about it. Even though every little thing turns into guilt that pricks at you in the end. When it comes to stab you through over and over, in the dead of night.”

…when no one else was around, when it became quiet. Particularly on the nights where I’d spent an enjoyable day. The aching was agonizing; at times so disgusted by myself, that it felt like I would throw everything up. 

“You abandoned your dongsaeng not merely once, but twice. And yet, you can still smile and laugh.”

“...it feels shitty.”

“And loathsome, and abhorrent besides. It feels strange to be living ‘normally,’ and each passing day feels like another sin committed. But to be fair.”

All traces of mirth disappeared from Han Yoojin’s face. He gazed blankly up at the domed light on the ceiling.

“It’s not like we were ever normal to begin with, before everything.”

“...says you. I was just fine.”

“I’m you, too.”

A brief silence settled. Then Han Yoojin opened his mouth again.

“We were young. But we weren’t oblivious.”

The reality, that I would end up being abandoned by my parents.

“Even back then.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“There was a time when you considered giving him up.”

퍽, I swung my foot at the bastard’s leg in a hateful kick. My foot ached from the impact. Once more, Han Yoojin began to laugh. I pulled my foot back to strike him again. This time, Han Yoojin didn’t keep still. Before I could connect, his leg shot out to smash unerringly against my ankle with a pinpoint kick of his own.

Staggering, I tumbled onto the ground. 쿵, the thud I made hitting the floor made a heavy sound. Heedless of whether I fell or got back up, Han Yoojin continued speaking.

“Frankly speaking, that’s the normal reaction you’d expect, right. When you’re just a kid. Of course it would’ve been normal, to feel scared.”

…I couldn’t recall how old I’d been back then, exactly. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to remember either. Roughly speaking, it would’ve been about the time our parents had slowly begun to detach themselves from us.

It had been at the playground, or perhaps at a flowerbed, hidden out of the way. With no one else around, it had been just me and Yoohyunie. It would’ve been a weekend, most likely. I’d picked up on how, when I announced to my parents that I’d be taking my dongsaeng outside to play, they’d always looked visibly relieved. And so–I’d delay until the sun set, purposefully waiting until they would’ve finished having supper already, before having us return. Since it was easier when it was just the two of us eating together, anyway.

The setting sun had already dyed the sky red that day, too. Yoohyunie was sitting quietly, docilely. My dongsaeng didn’t seem to feel bothered at all, but I’d been wrestling with an increasing sense of unease. I was a small child, incapable of surviving without my parents. But if things continued like this–there was a chance that I would become abandoned too, alongside the even younger dongsaeng I clung onto.

“It was just that once.”

“I’m aware.”

If only Yoohyunie were to disappear.

The sun was setting. Even as the growing darkness began to signal it would finally be okay to return home, my heart felt unsettled. I was scared of returning, but there wasn’t anywhere else I could go, either. I clenched and opened my hands a few times. I could still feel the cold sweat that coated my palms.

If, I were to return back home alone. My parents might be surprised for a brief moment, before breaking out into the smiles they’d shown me before. With kindly expressions, they might warmly invite me back inside, ask me if I was feeling hungry. They might have shown joy, as though welcoming back a child that they’d assumed had been lost to them. Relief that their eldest had finally become ‘normal.’ And then the three of us might have lived normally, happily together.

Without realizing, I’d taken a few steps forward. My dongsaeng remained put. I might’ve ran, too, in hindsight. And when I unconsciously chanced a glance back, the sky was pitch black, and my dongsaeng had been nowhere to be seen.

My throat abruptly lodged with a hot ball of emotion. It felt like I was about to start crying. I might���ve started weeping then, actually. I turned around, and ran back. Yoohyunie was sitting in the same spot I’d left him. I threw my arms around my dongsaeng, who watched me guilelessly, and clutched him close. As I sobbed to him I’m sorry, Yoohyunie asked me, Why?

Instead of answering, I took my dongsaeng’s hand. Squeezing it tightly, so we wouldn’t be parted, I began walking again.

“After that time, I’ve never done something like that again.”

“How very upstanding of you.”

“It was just that once.”

“Perhaps it was because of that incident, that you’ve become even more incapable of letting him go.”

Han Yoojin said.

“A real case of throwing stones at glass houses, isn’t it, you telling Yoohyunie he should date other people. Even if Yoohyunie has the excuse of being born that way, what excuse do you have, then.”

“You’re me, too.”

“Back then–in the place of our dongsaeng, it was Han Yoojin that got thrown away.”

Under that darkened sky, left standing alone. With the meager ability I possessed, it was impossible to bring along both children; one would have to be discarded. And so, he remained standing there by himself, still.

“So fucking what–it wasn’t like there was any other possible solution. We wouldn’t have been able to survive, if I’d chosen to look after myself too.”

“Yeah, true.”

“And I was satisfied. I was content. For real, until the damn Dungeons decided to show up.” 

“That’s true too. But in the end–everything still went to hell.”

There was no guarantee of success, no matter how much effort you’d put towards something. But wasn’t it too unfair, still. This time, my mouth twisted too, and laughter slipped out.

“This fucking bastard. Why even bother dredging up this kind of shit, this far in. Whether you’re a ‘Shade’ or whatever–you’re still something Chatterbox created, is that it. How the hell is any of this supposed to be helpful for me.”

“Says the one spewing shit himself. Because why did you assume I would say anything helpful to you to begin with, exactly. Like you’ve ever bothered to look after yourself.”

He wasn’t wrong, I supposed; it was because he was me, that he was capable of spitting out such vitriol with pinpoint accuracy. If he’d been under Chatterbox’s influence, he probably would have gone with a gentler approach. That it wasn’t your fault. That we hadn’t done anything wrong. Everything would be alright. But since it was Han Yoojin.

“But even then, you eventually managed to grow complacent anyway, huh. Does it feel good, being acknowledged? Look at how disgustingly giddy you’ve been acting, just because you’ve heard ‘I like you’ back.”

“...that’s you, too.”

“And all I need to do is carry out my job, then disappear. Take a good look. Though I might be a fake, I never hesitated to surrender my life, did I. Because that’s what’s called for, to enable you to be able to do your job. If it were anyone else, it absolutely would’ve resulted in a desperate struggle. There’s no way they would’ve just agreed to roll over and die.”

I remembered the way his finger had pulled the trigger without a moment of hesitation.

“You know very well what it means–that you haven’t changed at all, still. What’s the point, to those around you trying to look after you. At best, it only amounts to–ah, since everyone is worried, I should be careful–doesn’t it. Like it’s something happening to someone else.”

Like trying to fill a vase with a crack at the bottom, Han Yoojin said.

“No–not even that, a vase that’s shattered completely, more like. It might retain some moisture for a moment, when the water’s poured in. But it’ll never be able to hold anything of substance inside.”

“So what’s your point, then.”

“Don’t waste your time on pipe dreams.”

“...callous bastard.”

“The situation now, is the same as back then. It’s just that the adversary’s gone from being those parents, to the Transcendents and the Source instead. You’re still lacking in strength, and your capabilities hardly amount to much. You can’t afford to squander about by worrying about yourself.”

There was no rejoinder I could provide. I’d been snapping back at him, but in the end, that guy’s thoughts and my thoughts were one and the same.

“At any rate–do your best, yeah. Even if you hate it so much that it feels like it’s driving you insane, having killed your dongsaeng in order to survive. You’ll just have to pretend that you’re alright, I suppose.”

“...real fucking mouthy, aren’t you.”

I looked down at Han Yoojin. My mood was considerably foul. The ‘me’ that had originated from the Dungeon had been somewhat manageable, because it was from before I’d dirtied my hands. In all fairness, that guy hadn’t deserved any ill will directed towards him. Since he’d just been living happily.

“We aren’t deserving of such clemency.”

As though he’d guessed what I’d been thinking, Han Yoojin mumbled the words bitterly. I aimed my gun at Han Yoojin. As the sound of a gunshot rang out, the mana bullet that had been fired dispersed harmlessly, ineffectual. The resulting breeze tousled a few locks of his hair.

“I told you, I can’t disable Eunhae.”

Han Yoojin closed his eyes.

“It’s a difficult ask after all, I suppose. You gonna withdraw, then?”

“...like I would.”

“Yeah–if you were going to give up here, you would’ve done so way before this point to begin with. We went through a fair share of hardships, huh. It might’ve been because we don’t know how to give up that we ended up here, in this sorry state.”

“But because of that.”

Because I’d managed to come this far; there were things I’d managed to gain, as well as the things I’d managed to change. Yoohyunie–the Yoohyunie in the present–was alive and thriving. As well as Yerimie, and the others.

“Excluding you, of course.”

“Don’t butt in like you’re reading my thoughts.”

“Since they’re my thoughts, too.”

The situation had improved, for the most part. Though there were those cases, like MKC or Sudam. Since fewer Dungeons had appeared in Korea, too, there would’ve been a number of people who I didn’t even know who had managed to be spared.

“That much should still be an overall plus, right.”

“So don’t get greedy, alright. It’s not even all thanks to us, anyway.”

Even the act of regression–it hasn’t been through my own ability, to begin with. If I’d known how things would turn out back then, I wondered if I still would have asked to turn back time. If reviving my dongsaeng had been an impossibility from the start; would I have just ended things there, then.

I leaned down. There were only a few viable ways to kill Han Yoojin when he had Eunhae enabled. After briefly settling my knees against the ground, I lifted myself up slightly before sitting down heavily on Han Yoojin’s torso.

“Ugk, hey–.”

Han Yoojin opened his eyes. He looked up at me resentfully. 

“You won’t manage killing me in one go.”

This was really fucking unhinged, I thought absently.

“That’s to say–I’ll probably end up struggling instinctively, despite myself.”

Since he was a living person, after all. Han Yoojin let out a faint sigh.

“Should I tie you up, then.”

“...whatever. Who knows, maybe I won’t so much as twitch. Like this.”

We looked at each other, somewhat blankly.

“Still–things had been pretty enjoyable, all said and done.”

“Stop right there. Before you end up with regrets.”

“Should I feel envious of you, I wonder.”

“...no, that wouldn’t do.”

No matter what I’d said, it’s just. I’d probably been selfishly looking after myself a bit still, despite everything. Like when I’d insisted on attending Chatterbox’s party by myself, for example. Arguing that it would be the best possible approach, that it would be the most advantageous, I’d industrially provided excuse after excuse to prioritize myself.

And it was true; the fact that I relished in the attention that was given to ‘Han Yoojin.’

“It did make me happy.”

“...but, at this juncture.”

“There’s no room for that kind of thing. Yeah, that’s true.”

When it was impossible to know how things would still turn out. When I still hadn’t managed to recover what had been lost to me. It was too early for something like that, yet. Though I wondered when the time for it would come, then.

He looked up at me impassively. I fell silent too, having agreed to become complicit in throwing myself away.

Han Yoojin wrapped his hands around Han Yoojin’s throat and squeezed. 

- - - - -

(+Q&A)

Q) 혹시 주인공인 한유진의 캐릭터성은 이렇게 만드신 계기나 생각, 중요하게 여기신 게 있는지 말씀해주실 수 있나요? A) 한유진은 기본적으로 좋은 청년입니다. 만약 던전과 각성자가 없으며 외동으로 남았다면 붙임성 좋고 상냥하며 착한 아이로 자라났겠지요. 어리광도 꽤 많은 편이었을 거예요. 어른들은 물론이고 친구들에게도 인기가 많고 모난 곳 없이 성장하여 순조롭게 취직했을 겁니다. 서글서글하니 사회생활 잘 하다가 아마도 연상의 상대와 결혼해 모범적으로 평화로운 가정을 이루었겠지요. 한유진은 이렇게 비일상과 엮이지만 않는다면 아무 문제없이 무척 잘 살 수 있는 캐릭터를 바탕으로 두었습니다. 작중에서도 하나만 포기하면, 물러나면 괜찮다는 식의 서술이 여러 번 나왔었지요. 하지만 위의 한유진은 작중의 한유진과는 전혀 다른 사람이라고 보아도 무방할 겁니다. 자신의 동생인 한유현을 손에서 놓지 않기로 결심한 순간 한유진은 작중의 한유진으로 바뀌어가기 시작했죠. 자신과는 완전히 다른 존재를 받아들이고 함께 하게 된 것이니까요. 던전과 각성자가 나타나며 세상이 크게 바뀌어간 시점이 한유진에게는 저때였다고도 할 수 있습니다. 이상을 바탕으로 불에 가까운 존재인 한유현, 위태로운 가족관계 등의 환경이 더해져 작중의 한유진이 되었습니다. 타고난 좋은 성격으로 시작했어도 환경에 따라 많은 변화가 생겨났지요. 그렇게 많은 고생을 했음에도 본바탕은 여전히 다정다감한 편입니다^^

(+Q&A)

Q) 유진이가 떡잎 스킬로 본인의 상태창을 보지 못하는 설정상의 이유가 있나요? A) 떡잎 스킬은 양육자 칭호의 보조로 양육의 대상이 될 가능성이 있는 타인에게만 사용할 수 있습니다. 정확히는 시스템 설정이며 만약 한유진이 스스로를 보호하고 돌보고자 마음먹는다면 시스템적인 한계를 넘어 자기 자신에게도 사용이 가능해집니다

(+Q&A)

Q) 마지막으로 전에 만들어주신 게임에서 한유진의 편안히 웃는 얼굴이 낯설다, 편히 웃는 게 보기좋았다는 성현제와 문현아의 대사가 있었는데, 혹시 본편에서는 유진이가 편히 웃는 얼굴을 하는 일이 흔하지는 않다는 설정이 있었나요..?? A) 막 회귀했을 때는 편히 웃기도 했지만 25살 한유현에 대해 알게 된 후에는 아무래도 그늘이 질 수밖에 없었지요. 성현제와 문현아는 처음에는 납치며 초월자며 여러 가지 힘든 일이 많아서, 라고 생각했었고 나중에는 무언가 더 있구나 짐작했습니다.

(+Q&A)

Q) 채터박스 파티 때 한유진vs한유진 전투가 마무리된 후 꿈 속의 꿈 속의 꿈에서 한유진은 근원에 있던 한유현과 만났던 게 맞을까요? 유진이가 그때 왜 울었던 건지 궁금합니다. 단순히 죽은 유현이를 다시 봐서인가요? A) 25살 한유현이 맞으며 동생을 만나서도 맟습니다.

(+Q&A)

Q) 동생과 아이들이 있어서 본인의 욕구를 억누른다고 하셨는데 혹시 그럼 유진이는 그런 문제가 아니더라도 여러 문제들에서 아이들때문에 억누르는 부분이 많은걸까요??? ㅠㅠㅠ A) 꼭 아이들 때문이 아니더라도, 한유진이 아닌 다른 사람들이라도 혼자가 아닌 타인과 어울려 살기 위해서는 양보하고 참아야 하는 부분들이 있기 마련입니다. 모두가 서로 조금씩 다르기에 서로 맞지 않는 부분도 어느 정도는 맞추어야만 하니까요. 다만 한유진은 그것이 너무 과하여 문제가 되는 편이었지만 완결 시점에서는 많이 나아졌습니다. 아이들을 위해서 무조건 희생하진 않고 자신이 원하는 것을 어느 정도 쥐고 있을 줄 알게 되었지요. 물론 여전히 아이들을 위하는 면이 크지만 그것은 한유진의 성향입니다. 맛있는 간식이 있으면 혼자 다 먹는 것보다는 아이들과 나눠먹는 것에 더 큰 보람과 행복을 느끼는 편이지요. 단순하게 보면 한유진의 몫이 줄어들었고 자신의 욕심을 참아야하는 셈입니다만 한유진의 만족도는 후자가 더 큽니다. 만약 한유진의 자존감과 자기애가 바닥을 치는 상태였다면 전부 다 내어주다 못해 빚까지 끌어안고서도 난 이러는 게 더 좋아, 라고 할 위험성이 있습���다만 현재로서는 괜찮은 편입니다. 한유진의 성향 상 앞으로도 적절한 자기 몫을 챙기려는 노력이 계속 필요 하겠지만 잘 해내갈 거예요^^

(+Q&A)

Q) 유현이가 태어나기전 유진이네 가족이 궁급합니다!! 그리고 형제의 부모님은 해외여행 다니면서 형제들에게 꼬박꼬박 생활비를 넣어줬던 걸 보면 주머니 사정(?)이 꽤 괜찮았던것처럼 보였는데 형제가 상속받은 것은 없었을까요?? A) 집에 최대한 머물지 않기 위해 맞벌이는 물론 야근도 적극적으로 했기에 넉넉한 편이었습니다. 씀씀이도 커서 많이 모으지는 못했지만 집은 자가였으며 보험금도 있었습니다. 다만 보험금은 이리저리 뜯기고 집을 지키긴 했지만 대출이 좀 남아 있어서 한유진은 일을 하기로 결심했습니다^^ 한유진의 담임 선생님은 미성년자인 만큼 도음을 받을 수 있으니 고등학교는 졸업하라고 권유했지만 한유진은 집이 재산으로 잡혀 성인이 되면 바로 생활하기 곤란해질 것이라며 거절했습니다. 곧 성인이니 그 전에 경력을 쌓고 저축을 하여 자리 잡을 준비를 하고 싶었기 때문이죠.

(+Q&A)

Q) 유진이 이상형이 '의지할수 있는 연상을 선호’하고, 어제 답변 중에서도 ‘비일상과 엮이지만 않는다면 연상의 상대와 결혼한다’고 언급해주셔서요. 원래라면 어리광이 많은 성격인거 같던데, 혹여나 미래에는 항상 양육자였던 유진이가 유현이에게 기대는 일도 있을까요?? A) 불가능하진 않을 겁니다. 한유진은 한유현의 형이며 보호자라는 위치를 무척 중요하게 여기고 있습니다. 소설 초반에서는 그 위치가 자신의 전부에 가까웠죠. 한유현의 보호자 자리에서 밀려나면 스스로의 존재가 부정 당한다고 느낄 정도였습니다.  완결 시점에서는 많이 완화 되었으나 여전히 한유현의 보호자로서의 자신을 놓을 생각이 전혀 없어요 ^^ 여기에 부모가 작식을 도와주지는 못할망정 도음 받아서야 되겠냐는 고전적인 가치관을 일부 지니고 있는 탓에 동생에게 쉽게 기대려 하진 않을 겁니다.  그래도 사람의 가치관은 변화하는 법이며 집으로 돌아 가 평화로운 시간을 보내다 보면 완결 시점에서보다 더욱 느슨해질 수도 있겠지요. 한유현 또한 나이를 더 먹고 한유진의 눈에도 충분히 어른으로 비춰지게 된다면 기대는 일도 있을 거예요.

[shimmerystyles]

Mistletoe Makeup - Harry x Famous!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Harry have broken up just before the holidays. You decided that fighting over tabloids and rumours were just corrupting your relationship. Is there still a chance for a reunion before Christmas? Or are you destined for a holiday full of heartbreak.

word count: 3.9K

warnings: angst, arguing and swearing, accusations of cheating (if you blink you'll miss it), a happy ending (pinky promise (;)

You've been keeping yourself busy for days and days now as you had just broken up with your boyfriend, Harry a few weeks prior. He was your person, the one you did everything with as often as you could, so to go from having that outlet to losing it so quickly you tried your best to preoccupy yourself.

You turn the Christmas tree lights on to fill the once dark living room you were sitting in. As sad as you were, the holidays were your favourite time of year.

You've baked enough cookies to gift everyone and their nephews a few for the holidays, you've watched and rewatched Schitt's Creek three times and now, a fourth time.

"Why can't I have a love like David and Patrick, Ellie?" Your cat comes and sits next to you, purring into your lap. You smile and pet her head. "At least you love me, right baby?" She licks your hand once and nuzzles her head back into your lap.

You grab your phone with your free hand and turn it back on, your phone flooding with messages and missed calls you were meant to get back to but just never had the energy to.

One person remained missing from these messages.

Harry.

You knew he was probably going through his own grief but it still hurt that he wasn't apart of the urgency of needing you like the rest of the people in your notifications.

You decide to call back your manager, Maria, seeing as she left dozens of messages for you.

"Y/N? Oh thank goodness you picked up. You have an event tonight, girl. I was nervous that I was gonna have to cancel on them."

You sigh. "Maria, I don't really feel up for an event tonight. I don't feel up for anything really."

"Y/N, I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't this important, honey. I've cancelled carpet appearances and rescheduled meetings for you, but this is an important event. I can't cancel this one."

"Okay."

"Great, I'm sorry honey. Your stylist and team will be up shortly. This is Columbia Records holiday gala. You'll be seated with friends and familiar faces so it'll be a nice environment for you."

You felt your stomach drop. "Is Harry gonna be there?"

Silence filled the other end of the line.

"He will be there, yes. Not seated at your table, to my knowledge. If that's the case, I will call the event immediately and have you moved."

You gulped and breathed out slowly. "I can do this." You say through the phone.

"That's my girl. See you later, honey." The line clicks and you throw your phone across the couch.

"Well, Ellie. So much for finding out if Ted and Alexis get back together." She meows at you and you scoff.

"I KNOW i've seen it three times and know what happens, but let me live okay?" She rubs up against your hand and you smile.

"You're lucky you're cute."

The team came upstairs almost immediately following the call. "Y/N!" They exclaimed, rolling their stuff inside. You wave and smile weakly and your MUA, Marty pulls you in for a hug. "We're gonna make you SO hot babe, don't you worry!"

You sit and take his hand in yours. "Don't worry, hun. We got you."

You close your eyes and let them work their magic. Curling your hair and pinning pieces back. Natural but sparkly makeup. The dress, a red off shoulder sparkly gown with a high slit.

"That gowns too beautiful for me. I don't think I would pull that off." You chuckle nervously.

"Are you KIDDING?" Your stylist, May exclaims.

"May, I'm serious!" You laugh some more at her reaction.

"Baby, you're drop dead GORGEOUS. The dress is wearing YOU." She motions you over to the bathroom to change.

She helps you slip into the dress and turns you to the mirror. "You. Look. PERFECT!" She squeals. You smile softly. You felt beautiful, the most beautiful you've felt in days.

"Thank you, guys. Let's get tonight over with." You flip hair over your shoulder and they laugh.

------

The driver parks in front of the red carpet and gets out to open the door for you. You breathe in and out nervously, anticipating the crowd of paparazzi screaming questions at you as you walk.

When the door opens, you hesitate for a moment but his hand extends in to help you.

"Thank you." He smiles and nods his head as you pick up one side of your dress to lift up onto the carpet. You're immediately rushed on and off you went, posing as if nothing was wrong.

The sounds of the paparazzi's were muffled and lights were blurry but you kept composed as you walked from marker to marker as they got their shots. You reached the end of the carpet and immediately sighed and dropped the smile.

Time to face the music.

You enter the venue and are greeted by trays of champagne. You grab a glass and make your way to the seating chart, looking for your name.

Table 3;

Y/N Y/L/N Chloe x Halle + 2 James Arthur + 1 Dove Cameron + 1

You froze as you looked at the table chart again.

Harry Styles + 1

You must've been the +1 that was added to his name but now you were independent on the list. That made you more nervous than ever. You took a couple deep breaths before you heard your name being called.

"Hey, girl! How are you?" You turn to see Dove reaching out to grab your hand. You extend it and she gives it a squeeze.

"I'm alright, Dove. How are you?" You smile weakly. She gives you a sincere look.

"I'm okay, girl. It's looking like you and I are at the same table, shall we?" She opens her arm to hook with yours and you take it.

As you enter the grand ballroom, you stand at the top of the staircase and everyone's gaze goes to you and Dove. You immediately turn your head to her and give her a confused look.

"What are they looking at, Dove?"

"Hun, they're looking at you." She rubs your hand with hers and you shake your head.

"A-are you sure?" you ask nervously. You look out into the crowd and see Harry, mouth open, in complete awe of you.

"Dove, I don't feel so well."

She gives you a nervous look. "Let's get you to the table okay?" She helps you walk down the stairs and to your assigned seats. You wave quickly to all your friends calling your name and throwing compliments out to you. When you reach your table, Dove helps you out.

"Hey guys, where are we seated?"

They gesture you to the seats on the other end of the table, away from Harry.

Thank goodness.

She walks you over to the other side and you both sit down.

"I'm sure it's because you haven't had anything substantial to eat. Hopefully they serve something better than that nasty pollock last year."

The table laughs, but you are too busy staring at Harry, who unfortunately, is staring right back. He breaks the gaze for a moment and you reach for your phone to keep yourself distracted. While scrolling Instagram, you get a text.

Harry: You look beautiful, Y/N/N.

You look up at him and he's still on his phone.

Y/N: No contact for weeks and this is the first thing you say to me?

Harry: I'm sorry, we broke up. I was pretty upset about everything.

Y/N: Even after our breakup, you didn't message me once. Not once.

Harry: That's the thing with breakups, Y/N. You end contact because the relationship you once had, was gone.

Y/N: Look at us, even after breaking up, we're still fighting.

Harry: I miss you.

You look up at him, his eyes pleading for you to say it back.

Y/N: Harry, you know I miss you.

Harry: Then what are we doing?

You sigh, feeling your eyes well up with tears. The first course is served and you take that excuse to drop the conversation you were having with your ex-boyfriend to take in the warm and spicy soup.

"This soup is so good." You say doing a little wiggle as you normally do when you like something and the table giggles at you.

"What?" You laugh back.

"It was cute, your wiggle when you like something, it's adorable." Harry says, everyone agreeing with him.

"Oh." You smile and continue to eat your soup, trying hard not to wiggle but you can't help it and Harry is mesmerized by you.

After all, you were the love of his life. It wasn't hard to see that.

-----

"That chicken was the best food they've ever served here." Dove says patting her stomach. You giggle.

"Honestly, the soup was the best part. I may dance while I eat a lot of stuff, but not with that." You joke and the table laughs with you.

Harry, hands on his face, listening to you joke and laugh with the table. A small smile creeping up on his face.

You catch his gaze as someone starts another conversation and you smile softly at him. He tilts his head towards the dance floor and you look down at your phone.

Y/N: Harry. What's happening?

Harry: Come dance with me.

Y/N: Is that the best idea?

Harry: Just come dance.

You place your phone on the table and stand up, Harry following. You walk over to his side of the table and he takes your hand softly as you guide him to the dance floor. You wrap your arms around his neck as he places his hands on your waist.

"So... how've you been?" He asks and you roll your eyes.

"How do you think, H?"

He smiles.

"Miserable, like me."

You nod.

"How did we get here, love? How did we break each other's hearts?" He asks.

--------

"You're a fucking idiot if you think I don't see the shit they're trying to pull over us." You spat at Harry as you walk away from him. He angrily follows you.

"And you're fucking crazy if you think a stupid tabloid would be true, Y/N. Never in my life have I EVER thought about cheating on you, seems like you're just insecure."

That stung.

"Fuck you, Styles. You're telling me you've NEVER been insecure either? How fucking dare you."

He scoffs. "Yeah, Y/N, I have. I see you with guys on carpets in interviews, hugging and them flirting with you. It hurts me too. But it’s not enough to drive you away from me. I feel like the second I'm seen with another woman, you grow cold and we argue and then this fucking happens."

"Oh so it's all my fucking fault then? I'm the one taking the pictures of you leaving clubs with "mystery" girls and sending them to these fucking paps?"

"I didn't say it was your fault. Jesus, Y/N, why are you acting like this?"

"You have NO idea what it's like to see these stories, made up or not, of you and girls I have no idea about "leaving parties together" or my favourite "canoodling in the back seat of an uber" like HOW am I supposed to take those pictures, Harry?"

He shakes his head. "Y/N, you're being ridiculous. You and I both know when we’re photographed with ANYONE how twisted the stories get. I love you, and only you. Fuck all the other girls I'm photographed with, fuck the paps. You're what matters."

"You just went against everything you just said. You insulted me, you made me feel like I was crazy for feeling anything about the situations I've seen you in and now you want to kiss up to me? No, not happening, Styles."

"And here you are, acting like the fucking hero and I'm the villain. Once again, you're the angel, Y/N. Congratulations." He claps sarcastically and you grumble in frustration.

“You know what? Maybe we need to break up."

The room fell silent. You both stare at eachother, chests breathing heavily after the screaming match you both just had and Harry shakes his head.

"Fine. We’re done."

Harry gathered his coat and hat and walked towards the door, slamming it. You felt your body give out on itself as you fell to the floor, tears falling as you loudly sob into your knees.

There went the love of your life, and your soul left with him.

-----

"We've been bad for eachother, Harry." You say softly. You feel yourself lean your head into his chest, he brings your arms down to his waist as you hold him in a hug, he wraps his arms around your shoulders. "We're also good for eachother, Y/N/N. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." He places a soft kiss on the top of your head before swaying back and forth with you.

"Harry."

You lift your head up and both turn to a woman, hands on hips and Harry looks flustered.

"May I cut in?" She says in an annoyed tone.

"Of course, my apologies ma'am." You let go of Harry and immediately you feel cold. Your warmth was gone. "Y/N-"

"I'll see you later, H."

You walk towards the table and take your seat back with Dove. "Let me guess, ex problems?"

You nod. "We broke up not even a month ago and he already has a new girl. He just fed me more lies" Your voice cracking.

"Oh, honey. She's nowhere near the woman you are. You're exquisite. Trust me, he'll see what he's doing."

You stare at them dancing and talking, your face tensing up. You decide you've seen enough.

"I'm going to get some air." You stand up.

"Want me to come, girl? I'll leave my date here! He's more interested in James anyways." She giggles.

"I'm okay, I just need a few alone. Thank you for everything." You take her hand and squeeze.

"Take your time, girl." She smiles warmly before turning back to the table's conversation.

You make your way towards the exit, maneuvering your way through tables and towards the staircase.

---

"Harry, this has to be believable." Erica says nonchalantly as they dance.

"Maybe I don't want this." He tries to look over at you, but you're not in your seat. "This was the labels idea, Harry. We can't make that choice."

Harry looks up towards the staircase and takes matters into his own hands.

"I gotta go, Erica." She stops him. "Go where?"

"To follow my heart, she's not getting away this time."

Except this time, Y/N got away... again.

You had already gotten into your town car and had the driver bring you home.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and frustratedly stomped back into the venue. "Fuck" He muttered under his breath.

---

'But don't you worry, Mr. Styles. There's still one more chance to get Y/N back... patience is a virtue.'

---

As you walk inside your apartment, Ellie prances to you immediately, meowing away as she tries to rub against the sparkly gown you're in. "Sorry, baby. Let me go change."

You quickly change into this, and walk back to Ellie who greets you once again, this time purring because she's not rubbing against sequins. "Sorry, my girl. I know that must've been painful." You pick her up and carry you with her to the couch.

"Well, my love, it's you and me tonight... how do you feel about Elf this time?"

She gets comfy in your lap and you smile. "Alright, let's watch"

You hear your phone ring and you pick it up to see Harry calling. You let it go to voicemail and turn your phone off.

____

'Y/N, Y/N, don't you know that your gift can only come when you least expect it? Stop being stubborn and listen to the messages being sent your way!'

____

Christmas came quickly. Holiday dinner after holiday dinner, you forced smiles through them all as you mingled with your family when you'd rather be wrapped up in a blanket, eating your many, MANY cookies and wallowing by yourself. But here you were, in your nice clothes at your parent's house with your brother, parents and grandparents. At least you weren't alone on Christmas eve.

"Y/N, you okay?" You looked over and your brother, Charlie, looked concerned. You simply nodded. "Yeah, sorry. I'm not in a big celebrating mood." He rubs his hand on your back. "Sorry, kiddo. Hopefully the feeling changes soon. I know how much you love Christmas." he shoots you a small smile and you reciprocate it. "Thanks."

You stare down at your phone, the lock screen of you and Harry from your 6 month anniversary. You smile weakly at the photo, trying your best to hide tears. A text pops up and you open it immediately.

Harry: C'mon, Y/N. Please talk to me. I'm going crazy over here.

Y/N: What is there to say, H? Clearly you moved on, I need to do the same.

Harry: You've got it all wrong. Please.

Y/N: I'm tired of fighting, Harry.

Harry: I am too, please let me explain this and I promise I won't bother you if you don't want to hear me out.

You sigh and excuse yourself from the dinner table and walk into the nearby guest room.

-

"You've got 2 minutes, Styles." You cross your arm and start pacing around the room.

"Okay. Erica was the girl who cut in between us at the dinner. Management had her come so it wouldn't look weird of me to show up alone to the gala. I wanted to come alone, but, it wasn't my choice. She was only doing her part in all of this because her career was just starting and she really wanted to kickstart it. What better than to be seen canoodling with Harry Styles. I didn't want this, Y/N. Please believe me."

"Harry. This was exactly like the last time. Girls I don't even know being seen with you and twisting tabloids around, making themselves and you look like the "New Couple of the Year" while I sit at home wondering what's fake and what's real. I don't want to do this anymore."

"Neither do I, Y/N. I only want you. To be around you, photographed with you, going places with you. I don't want these tabloids, but sometimes they're unavoidable. I try my very best to keep to myself but one bad picture can change anyone's POV and create a story. Please, Y/N. I don't want anything else"

"I-I'm sorry Harry-"

"No. I'm not losing you this time."

"That's not your choice to make, Harry. Like you said, this isn't our decision."

"Y/N. Please. Don't give up on us."

"Have a good Christmas, Harry." Your voice cracks as you hang up the phone.

-

You take a minute to compose yourself and walk back out to the dinner table. You take your seat and Charlie notices your sadness right away. He takes your hand and you bite your lips to hold back tears. You nod frantically and he catches on right away. "You're a strong woman, Y/N. You can cry. It's okay."

You sigh and wipe your eyes. "Thank goodness I didn't wear any eye makeup." You giggle and he smiles.

"Even when you're sad, you find a way to lighten up the mood."

You smile weakly. "That's me."

"Well, kids. I think the turkey isn't going to eat itself." Your mom walks in with the last of the trays.

"Alright, let's eat everyone!" Your mom starts passing dishes around when you hear a knock at the door. Charlie gets up to answer it. You scoop some mashed potatoes on your plate and pass it over to your dad, wiggling in excitement over the food.

"Uhhh, Y/N?" Charlie peeks his head back in. "Hmm?" You say pouring gravy. "Harry's here."

You almost drop the gravy on yourself and everyone stares at you. "S-sorry, i'm coming."

You smooth your dress out and walk over to Charlie. "If you need me, come grab me." You nod and he taps your shoulder as you walk into the doorway and see Harry in a beanie, big puffy jacket and snow covering his exposed curls.

"Harry, what in the world are you doing here?"

"I told you, Y/N. I'm not losing you this time. We're going to talk."

You let him in as you see him shivering and he sighs a relief when he feels the warmth hit his face.

"Thought I was gonna freeze, I forgot how cold it gets in New York." He chuckles.

"You can hang your jacket. I'll be right back." You say as you walk over to the dining room. "I'll be just a moment, guys." Your family all nods and continues eating as you walk back to Harry, now showing his big Christmas sweater and black pants. He looked cute.

"Come." You guide him to the living room, and slide the sliding door closed so you had some privacy. "Y/N..."

"You crashing my families Christmas eve dinner wasn't on my list of things I was expecting, Styles." You crossed your arms.

"Y/N/N, just hear me out." You stop and sit across from him.

"I'm listening."

"Okay. I talked to management. I've made myself very clear what I want and what I want, is you."

You unfold your arms as he continues.

"I can't control what paparazzi's say, or tabloids, but I can avoid those things. You mean everything to me and I'll do anything to make sure you're mine forever."

You smile softly. “Okay.” You manage to get out.

“Okay?” His eyes lighten up at your acceptance.

You get up and walk over to sit with him. You stick out your pinky and he looks at you with furrowed brows.

"I want to make a promise to each other. If we see something that bothers us, we talk to each other. We communicate our feelings. We be honest and kind. Pinky promise?"

He wraps his pinky around yours. "Pinky promise."

You stand up. “Also, Ellie’s pretty upset with you so she’ll need her own apology” You look off to hold back your laughter and he chuckles.

“Of course, can’t have my darlings mad at me, can I?”

You smilie and hold your hand out to him. He gets up and you smirk.

"What?" He wraps his hands around your waist. You look up and he looks with you.

"Mistletoe... pretty convenient, don't you think?" You say wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Hmmm, i'd say so." He leans in and kisses you softly and you smile in the kiss.

"I love you, H."

"I love you, more. Y/N/N."

You kiss him one more time before grabbing his hand.

"Want to stay for dinner? My mom makes enough food to feed 20 for the 8 of us." He chuckles.

"Of course, I'd love to gas up your mom's cooking." You laugh and take him into the dining room, everyone warmly greeting him as he sits down with your family.

Christmas music plays in the background as you and your family help Harry make a plate. You smile at your family and then at Harry, your heart warm once again.

Now this was the Christmas gift you were hoping for.

----------------

YAY!

Another one down! Holiday!Harry is truly my favourite to write about. That and angsty harry idk whyyyy hahahhaah. i hope you guys enjoy! I have 3 more in my drafts so lets hope I can edit them well enough to post for ficmas! I’m trying my best to write something smutty but i’m not very good at it hehe my next one is gonna be a sad ended one because not EVERY story can have a happy ending, right? hehe okay i hope you guys like it!

love you all<3

[acim-ed-ortsac]

The Ruler of the End - 2

Twisted Wonderland x Ender Dragon Male Reader

“You’re leaving us here in this dilapidated building!?”

“ Well, it’s the only available one we have.”

The Ender dragon stared at the soon - to - be - destroyed building, its wood worned and tearing, multiple holes for rain to come in, broken windows, anda door hanging on for dear life on its hinges.

The outside wasn’t better either, with dead grass the color of pale green, dead trees bare of leaves, and a crooked gate around it.

“It has a certain charm,” Yuu, the human that was also from another world, said sarcastically. The dragon’s lips twitched in brief amusement before he looked at the building and curled his lips in disgust. This excuse of an adult really wants them to live in this safety hazard of a building? 

How irresponsible.

But considering his situation as stranded and lost in this new world, he supposed the headmaster could’ve done much worse such as kicking them out. When entering inside, it was far much worse. Dust everywhere, broken furniture, creepy crawlies hiding away from the sudden strangers, and worse of all!

Dust!

“I’ll come back with some food and clothes for the two of you, for I am gracious.” said the headmaster before he left with a bang on the door.

A layer of dust fell and landed on his head, making the ruler twitch in annoyance. Yuu looked at him, concerned. “Please don’t burn this down, it’s all we got.”

“I won’t,” he replied before shaking the dust off. “Do you clean?”

“Dude, I learned how to clean since I was five.”

“Excellent,” the dragon looked into the pocket dimension of his horde, looking at the various things he will need, “I’ll have to replace some of the wood before sleeping tonight.”

“Why? It’s no-“

Cue, the sound of rain pouring from above.

Yuu deadpanned at the sight, “Good idea.” They then looked at the dragon, “But won’t the rain bother you?”

“No worries, I have an umbrella here.” To emphasize his point, the dragon pulled out a red umbrella from his pocket dimension, opening it before closing. Yuu let out a low whistle, “That’s pretty handy, the dimension thing that is.”

“It’s a normal thing back in my world, but the amount of space depends on the individual itself. Since I’m one of the most powerful beings there, my horde is quite big.” he explained.

The human nodded in understanding, “Man, I wish I had something like that. Unfortunately, my world doesn’t have any magic to begin with.”

The dragon, who was arranging his needed supplies before heading outside, paused and perked at the detail in interest. “No magic? As in, not at all?” he asked, glancing at them.

Yuu shrugged,” The most magic we had were witches and - what were they called again? - Ah, right. Shamans.” they then paused at the word, “I think I got that one wrong.”

“But in my world, we also have witches.”

“Yeah, but our witches mostly talk to the dead and summon demons who they hate.”

“. . .How interesting.”

*-*

When the Ender Dragon left to fix the roof, Yuu finally squealed at the contained excitement they felt. 

I met the Ender Dragon!

And to learn that the dragon had a hybrid form and was male!? Their life could not get any better! Being a Minecraft player and constant viewer of any Minecraft youtuber there was, (Technoblade, may he rest in peace), how could they not recognize the infamous mob of the End!

The ultimate boss of Minecraft!

Yuu nearly died when they realized that the Ender Dragon was also summoned by the Dark Mirror and when he called the Endermen - at that time, they almost quite literally died - but nonetheless, they were thrilled!

God, he’s so powerful and majestic in real life! And to think he would look that handsome! After being dumped into a Disney world with pretty boys!? The Ender Dragon was like a final Christmas gif-

A realization came to them.

They can’t keep calling him ‘The Ender Dragon’ all the time. Despite that was how they and others called him in the game, he’s actually a living being and Ender Dragon was his species of animal. No, he would need a proper name.

Finding a broom, they began sweeping the floor as they thought. A suitable name for the ruler - or former ruler since he supposedly died - of the End, he comes from the End and it’s kinda in the name of his species. Looking at the languages they learned so far, they tried to search for a peculiar name for him.

What’s ‘end’ in Norwegian. . .nah, calling him ‘slutt’ seems like a bad idea. And Spanish and Portuguese are either ‘fin’ or ‘fim’. Hmm. . . Maybe Oxiri from Uzbek? Wait, why am I thinking of names that mean ‘end’? He’s more than someone from the End. What’s dark in latin. . .

Yuu pursed their lips before trying out the soon to be name, “Tenebris.” That didn’t sound too terrible of a name, besides, they were running out of language they understood. Happy and satisfied, they continued to sweep the floor, waiting on their dorm mate when a yelp caught their attention. . .

The ruler held the umbrella above his head as he placed the roof pieces on the holes, temporary replacements before he decided to fully renovate this excuse of a building. 

While it was something he wasn’t accustomed to, the dragon is able to withstand the cold to a degree and is strong enough to endure any pain. He can also go without food or water for a few days. But his companion, Yuu, was a different story. They’re human, meaning they have a more delicate body than him and their body could get sick easily.

Well, easily as an average human can get sick.

Besides the point, they currently don’t have the money for any medicine, he wasn’t an expert in herbs either. He’s also not sure if the healing potions he has would be effective for a human from another world, so he’s not taking that risk. Lastly, he’s not sure if the gems he has would be considered valuable in this world.

Yuu will be under his care as he is under theirs’, both being from other worlds, so if they get sick or are injured, it’s partly his responsibility to make sure they’re okay. Majority was supposed to go to the headmaster of this school, since the Dark Mirror is the property of this school and he’s in charge of it.

But now he’s not sure if he should put his trust or faith in the bird man.

A sting of pain made him hiss as a drop of water splashed on his tail, he glanced to see a red spot before he moved his tail under the umbrella. He’s kinda glad for the robes that he wore. He still remembers the conversation that happened before they were sent here; After the reveal of his origins, the dragon noticed that in the headmaster’s hands was a robe of black and purple. The same robe that everyone wore. The headmaster, after coughing to regain composure, asked him to put on his ceremonial robes.

This made the dragon confused as he asked: “Why do I have to put that on?”

An awkward silence ensued as multiple individuals looked away, some tinting in red. Another cough from the headmaster, “Ah, well, I’m not sure how it is done in your world, but here, we wear clothing for. . .decency.”

With furrowed brows, the dragon looked down at his own appearance. Ah, I’m still bare 

Indeed, he wore nothing of any clothing, his human torso exposed revealing the tone muscle he developed in his dragon form, before they slowly changed to his obsidian scaled dragon legs. His tail that protruded from his tailbone covered the crack of his rear, and a certain part between his legs was covered behind the many scales of his legs. 

Meaning, any part that is to be censored is covered by his biology.

I suppose that’s the norm for humans. Even in my world, some hybrids wear clothing. thought the dragon as he covered another hole. This building still needs work but he can continue it tomorrow when it’s not raining. Maybe he should add an automatic farm, so they don’t have to buy their food. But he would have to get seeds first,

Don't I have seeds in one of my shulker boxes? he thought as he gathered his things, putting them in his horder minus the umbrella before descending to the ground. Ignoring the stinging from the rain, he entered the building and was met with yells and shouts of fighting.

The dragon raised his brows in alarm before quickly flew towards the source which was on the second floor. When he got there, his alertness turned to confusion at the sight. Yuu was panting, sweat dripping from their forehead. A little at their side is the blue grey cat with flaming ears and a striped bow, who was seemingly more exhausted than the human. And in front of them is. . .

An abomination of a ghost and the headmaster.

I mean, what in the Three Realms is that!? Did the headmaster die!? If so, then that’s one monstrous ghost form!

Fortunately, after a poof of smoke, the ghost changed into the headmaster standing on his two feet and his dark suit and cape.

Ah, he’s alive.

“Incredible!” the bird-man exclaimed, “Working together with a monster - Why, you have the skills to be a beast tamer!”

A what? What in the Three Realms did I miss!?

Blinking in confusion, the former ruler of the End could only watch on as the headmaster’s rambles dissolved into a series of mumbles, which was interrupted by Yuu. “Umm, may Grim stay with me please?”

“What did you say!? A monster!? Staying in school!?”

“You. . .” the cat creature, whose name is Grim, trailed off.

Deciding to intervene for the moment, the dragon spoke. “Pardon my language, but what is going on!?”

The three of them jumped and turned to him in surprise. The cat creature widened his eyes in fear and recognition at the sight of him while Yuu grinned and jogged to the dragon. “You’re back!” 

He nodded, brushing a strand of dark hair from his face. “I managed to fix and cover the holes on the roof, but with this rain I’ll have to start renovations a little later.”

“It’s okay, you did a good job though.”

“Thank you,”

“Why is he here!?”

The both of them looked at Grim, who hid behind the headmaster’s long legs for protection. The headmaster, meanwhile, had a smile as he spoke. “Ah, Mr. Ender Dragon. I’ve returned with food and new clothes!”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” the dragon replied, crossing his arms. “So, mind telling me why that cat creature is here?”

“I’m not a cat!”

Ignoring the protest, the dragon listened as Yuu explained to him what happened after he left. The ruler glared at Grim, who stiffened in fear at the next words. “You want to become a great magician when you not only can’t attack properly but also dare to insult another. Much less, someone who doesn’t have any magic!?”

Grim bared his teeth, despite trembling. “The Great Grim doesn’t need to respect anyone-“

“Before becoming someone great, perhaps learn to be humble first.” The Ender Dragon snorted before turning to the headmaster. “Now, may we discuss how we should live here?”

“Ah yes, I was about to discuss that with you.” The headmaster cleared his throat. “As you know, I’m letting you live here but the necessities like food, clothing, and money should be up to you. And as I’m gracious, you three will be doing some oddjobs here and there.”

“Three?”

“Yes, the monster is included in your dorm.”

The dragon deadpanned, Huzzah, more responsibilities.

The headmaster then continued to explain that they’ll be working as ‘Janitors’, people who do the maintenance and fixings in this school. Tomorrow, Yuu and Grim will be in charge of cleaning Main Street, wherever that is, while the dragon will be fixing some broken windows among the high towers.

“You have a talent for fixing, I saw you on the roof with materials.” The headmaster had said. “Though, may I ask Mr. Ender Dragon, where did you get the materials for the roof?” He looked up and down at the dragon’s figure. “I don’t see a satchel on you.”

“Oh, that’s my horde, it’s a pocket dimension where I can keep my stuff. Most mobs and humans have them in my world.”

The bird-man’s eyes widened, “How interesting.”

And on that same night, he got a new name.

Yuu had mentioned it, saying it will become a hassle calling him ‘Mr. Ender Dragon’ all of the time. Crowley agreed, “I second that, it is becoming a mouthful.”

Yuu grinned at this, “Then what about Tenebris?”

The dragon quirk a brow, “Tenebris?”

 “Yeah, it means ‘dark’ in latin.” Yuu explained. “I thought of it while cleaning.”

The dragon, now Tenebris, liked the name. The dragon had smiled at the name, since he was mostly called either the ‘Ender Dragon’ or ‘The ruler of the End’ so he never thought of coming up with a name for himself. He had seen hybrids and humans with names, some hard to pronunciate and some with numbers in them. Some were so long the people had to come up with nicknames.

But to be given a name for himself, a warmth of happiness bloomed in his chest.

*-*

It was the next morning when Tenebris had started breakfast. Fixing pumpkin pie, the dragon used his fire to heat the wood so the pie will bake. Tenebris wasn’t sure if the stove or oven still worked so he decided to use the old-fashioned method. A whisper of coldness tickled his side before a translucent anomaly appeared beside him.

“Oh, what a feast you prepared!” the stocky ghost, whose name is Horus, commented.

His chubby friend, Luke, appeared at his other side. “Indeed, what a haul you got there.”

“It’s not much,” Tenebris scowled as he glanced at the dining table. Already on the table were baked potatoes, bread, mushroom stew, and a few plates of steak. The pumpkin pie was the last addition. Three sets of plates and cutlery were set out for him, Yuu, and the cat gremlin named Grim.

A chuckle behind him had him face the last ghost of the trio, whose name is Jasper. “Kid, I would say that’s a bit much.”

His scowl went deeper, making the ghosts coo at him. “Don’t pout now,” Jasper giggled, patting his cheek.

A yawn and footsteps signalled the awakening of the two alive residents in this dorm. Tenebris took the pie out of the makeshift oven before putting it on the table, finishing the final touches. 

“Good morning,” Yuu yawned, their hair a birds’ nest while a line drool escaped from their mouth.

Grim grumbled a bit before he got a whiff of the aroma in the air, “Oooh, something smells good!”

“Save some for Yuu, Grim.” The dragon warned as he took his seat, eyeing the cat monster who took no haste in gulfing as much food as possible.

Yuu wiped their drool as they eyed the table of food, setting themself down. “Woah! Tenebris you made this!?”

“I just had some leftover ingredients and food in my horde,” the dragon answered casually, taking a bite of his pork. “The farm I made this morning will take time to grow, and I can’t gather any cows or chickens to the school unless I want to get in trouble.”

Yuu paused mid-bite, “Did you say farm!?”

“Look outside,”

Tenebris paid no mind as the human rushed from their seat to the window. He also paid no mind to the shriek of disbelief before speechlessness followed. And if he ever felt a sense of pride in his chest, he’ll never tell you that

Chapter 1 2 3 4 5

[smurphyse]

Bunny and the Shadow

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 9 of Bunny and the Beast

Warnings: Extremely dubious consent, emotional manipulation, possessive behavior, toxic relationship behavior, somnophilia, sleepy confessions, stalking, canon typical stories and violence

Summary: A few weeks at the new house and Bunny's mind starts to play tricks on her...

It took a few weeks to get everything unpacked, mostly because Spencer kept pushing you onto every surface and into every closet he could and pounding the lights out of you. 

You were so precious, your eyes glowing with childlike wonder as he hung Christmas lights on a precarious ladder, praying he wouldn't fall and break his neck. The fear was worth your giggling beneath him, and when he was finished you insisted he plug them in with you so you could do it together. 

He barely got you inside the mudroom before he tore your clothes off.

When he helped you put up the Christmas tree, wrapped in a turtleneck as you wore a sweaterdress and boots with nothing underneath, it took everything he had to wait until you were finished to fuck you on the floor. After, sweaty and exhausted, he lifted you up naked as a jaybird so you could put the star on top. 

He couldn't help himself, really he couldn't. 

When this all started, Spencer's intentions with you were to just have another outlet. With you next door, his frustrations and the tightness in his shoulders eased every time he slipped inside you, so warm and pliant beneath his grip. You were addicting. 

As time went on, he became increasingly drawn to you and your smile, the way you hugged him close and kissed his temples and cheeks. What started as a welcome release every few weeks became a daily necessity, to be with you every chance he could. 

It had been years since he felt so comfortable with someone, and had his worries wash away the moment he saw them. They were still there in the back of his mind, but he wasn't plagued by nightmares and bodies and crime scenes when he was with you. 

All you ever needed was for him to be there. Even after months of pushing you away and sleeping with other people, you just wanted him. He didn't even have to speak, you just seemed to like his presence. There were few people who had ever asked that of him. 

At work, his brain was demanded to process at high speeds and provide answers where his team found none. He knew his team loved him and cared for him, but they always seemed to want his mind more than him. 

In your arms, Spencer was safe, but in his you weren't. 

He'd lost so many people just because of who he was, because of his job. Gideon, Hotch, Maeve, Max, Walker. He was dangerous to be around, and he'd nearly lost his own mother because of his job. 

Cat and Lindsey might be gone, but Scratch was still out there. He was still hunting the BAU. 

From your spot on the floor in front of the fireplace, Spencer hugged you close as he stared into the flames. You snored loudly in the crook of his shoulder, your body draped over his. This had been the last room to be christened in the new house, and you'd broken in a new carpet on the hardwood flooring. 

He had you covered in a fuzzy blanket, rubbing your back lightly so you would fall asleep. He'd considered taking you upstairs to sleep in bed, but then he'd have to leave you alone up there while he smothered the fire. 

Leaving you was getting harder. The near constant fear that something or someone would take you away threatened to make him run and hide, but he couldn't do that to you. 

Sex had always been a release for Spencer. It was rarely something to do with or for someone else, a reflection of desires and trust. Instead, it was a primal release to clear his mind enough so he could continue working. 

Since he started sleeping with you… sex became more. It meant more to him, even when he was bruising you and calling you filthy names. It became a mirror of his feelings for you, a way to tell you how much he cared and wanted you to feel safe and wanted and cared for. 

The first step of his downfall was moving to the living room to fuck people so you wouldn't hear. The thought of you sleeping on your couch so you wouldn't have to listen to it and be hurt… it pierced something deep within him. 

Soon enough he was sleeping over, which he hadn't really done before. The more he learned about how little you'd been pleased by others and taken care of, he started to overcompensate in bed so you would know what it was like to let go and feel good without having to think about it. 

After the threesome with Luke, Spencer finally saw how little he really took care of you. The pain in your voice when you said he only came to you for sex… he hadn't even thought you would think such a thing. 

That was how it started, but it wasn't what it became. Six wonderful months of spending most of his time with you and taking you to dinner, and Spencer found himself wanting more. He started sleeping with others less, becoming bored with it and preferring to be with you. Less and less had he kept you at arms length, instead preferring to be nestled into yours. 

The problem was, he was so protective of you he could hardly breathe if there wasn't proof you were alive and well in front of him. It made him antsy and he couldn't sleep, for fear that if someone found out about you you'd get hurt. 

As of now Luke was the only one, but with you moving in and him agreeing to only see you, Spencer knew that was likely to change. 

The only reason Spencer had continued sleeping with others was so he wouldn't risk falling in love with you. It's the same reason he wouldn't kiss you. 

Then this would all become real, too real, and he'd lose you like he lost everyone else. He was just yours now, and happy to be, but each passing day felt closer to the end. One day you'd leave because of his job, or get hurt because of it, and Spencer would spend the rest of his life being haunted by your ghost.

If he never kissed you, he wouldn't have to miss it when it was gone. 

Sniffling to himself, Spencer pulled you tighter to his skin as if to make you melt into him. You grumbled and pushed at him in your sleep, but he held you close and kissed your forehead. That always did the trick, and you relaxed and sighed. 

Rolling you onto your back, Spencer laid on top of you and buried his face in your neck. The fire crackled in the background as you stirred, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and groaning. 

"Spencer?" you huffed, "You're heavy…"

"Am I?" he asked playfully, smirking against you. 

Your legs were still damp from his latching onto your clit earlier and then fucking you into the carpet, and he knew you had rugburns in unfun places, but he couldn't help himself as the feeling of your used cunt pressed against his length, stirring him and riling him up. 

Spreading on instinct, you clung to him as he lined himself up and pressed inside. You let out a little grunt, sore and tired, but still wet and open and ready just for him. You were so warm and tight, safe around him and far more special than you realized. 

Bottoming out, Spencer hissed as he molded his body to yours. He needed this, this contact. You were here, you were safe, you were with him. 

"Mmm," you swallowed thickly, smacking your lips as you sleepily let him do what he wanted to you and seemingly reading his mind, "I'm right here, Spencer."

Your fingers trailed up his spine, one hand lacing into his hair while the other rubbed his back to comfort him. You had no idea what you did to him, that just your touch could make him feel at ease. 

"Need you, bunny," Spencer murmured, and you nodded with your eyes closed. 

"'m right here, Spencer. You have me."

He gently rolled his hips, far sweeter and smoother than he'd done with any partner before, kissing your neck. You sighed and relaxed beneath him, your body wrapping around him like you were made to take him. 

Still half asleep, you moaned quietly with each soft thrust. Spencer didn't want you to have to wake all the way up, so he kept himself in check even though it was always difficult. You were warm and soaking wet, gripping his cock with your muscles and pulling him back in each time he dragged himself out. 

It always left him in awe, the way your body responded to his, wanting him just as much as he wanted you. You never shied away, never thought twice about rocking back and taking your own pleasure as he took his. But you also gave… and he'd never had that before. 

Every partner Spencer had wanted what he did, to take and be emptied and carefree after, but not you. Without him asking, you gave to Spencer just because you wanted to. On your knees, with your hands or your mouth, with everything you had you gave so he could feel wanted and needed. He wasn't a tool to get off with, to you Spencer was with you in each moment. It was intoxicating and dangerous. 

Spencer picked up his pace, watching you carefully. Your eyelids fluttered as you reveled in his attention, peaceful and trusting. Your slick dripped between the two of you, letting him glide and ease you open like the precious creature you were unlike the rough fucking he'd subjected you to earlier in the evening. 

Red blotched your cheeks, your hair fanning out on the patterned carpet as you gasped. He felt you tense up, saw the way you began to shudder. Your fingers tightened in his hair, nails scratching down his back as you nuzzled your nose next to his and cried out quietly in the dark. You tightened around him as you came, and it took all he had to hold back as he groaned. 

"Good girl," Spencer whispered, pressing his lips to your cheek over and over. "Good bunny, I'm so proud of you."

You whimpered the way you always did when he praised you, and it made his heart flood with warmth. When he buried his face in your neck, you clung to him and kissed his shoulder. 

Your lips dragged sleepily across his skin, your light huffs with each thrust fanning breath across his ear. "My sweet, sweet bunny. You're everything to me."

Your happy grunt vibrated through his chest where it was pressed to yours, his own orgasm coming faster than he anticipated. He always came faster than he thought he would with you, and it took until recently to realize it was because he trusted you enough to do so. 

"Hmm," you sighed, and he could tell you were falling asleep once more. Hugging him tightly before going lax into the carpet you said in a quiet voice, "I love you, Spencer."

Without warning, Spencer came hard. He dropped down on top of you as he mindlessly thrusted again and again until he was spent, his mind blissed out and shocked at the same time. You clenched around him in your sleep, and as Spencer's chest heaved he got up on his elbows to look at you. 

Your arms slipped from his neck and fell to the floor, tired and fucked out. You didn't seem to know what you said or even care, dead asleep and looking like an angel with your red cheeks. 

Spencer brushed back your hair and you grumbled as he tried to get your attention, but after a long day of fucking and moving you were long gone. 

"Bunny?" he asked quietly, unsure if he wanted to hear you answer. "Do you love me?"

You let out a little hum, but all you did was curl up on your side and tug the blanket over your naked body. Spencer rubbed your back as he loomed over you, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest he couldn't believe you didn't wake. 

"Bunny?"

You harrumphed and grumbled when he pushed on your back, "Spencer, I can't go again, I'm too tired."

"I don't want to go again," he murmured, leaning down and kissing your arm. "Do you love me, bunny?"

You were annoyed and half asleep, shoving at him halfheartedly so he'd leave you alone, "Of course I do, dummy, let me sleep."

Spencer huffed in shock, his brows furrowing at your tone. You only spoke to him like that when you were mad or half asleep, so he couldn't really blame you. But your words ripped him open, as if he were stupid for having to ask.

He pressed his forehead to your shoulder, and you patted him for a moment before going completely limp. He kissed your arm, his breath shuddering as tears welled in his eyes. 

Pulling away before he broke down completely, Spencer covered you up while he smothered the fire, then carried you upstairs. He settled with you on the bed, staring out the window as he sat against the headboard. You barely stirred as he maneuvered you to lay on his belly, and he played with your hair as he looked out into the darkness. 

This was exactly what he didn't want to happen. This was so dangerous, and you had no idea. There were so many awful things in the world, and they all seemed to come back to Spencer.

Maeve's death. Prison. Being tortured by Benjamin Cyrus' cult. Explosions, drug addiction, bullets tearing through skin… and so much more. How could he let that anywhere near you when you not only trusted, but loved him. 

You were so delicate, so young and small. A part of him knew you weren't nearly as naive as he convinced himself you were, but just in case… Spencer had to protect you at all costs. 

This house was perfect for that. There were only two entrances, and he had hidden cameras on them that told him when someone approached on his phone. The house and the neighborhood were both gated, with a guard at the opening who only let in residents and pre-approved guests. 

You worked from home, so you wouldn't come and go so much. When Spencer was here he could keep an eye on you and one on the outside world, he would keep you safe and happy in this home you were building together. 

Scratch couldn't touch you here. Not if Spencer had anything to do about it. You wouldn't end up like Maeve, with your brains splattered across his shoes and blood staining his knees as he dropped to them on that damned rooftop. You wouldn't end up like Walker with a broken neck, or Gideon bleeding out all alone in a cabin, and Spencer wouldn't help carry your coffin. 

You let out a particularly loud snore that made Spencer jump and gasp, his arms tightening around you. You growled at him for disturbing you like it wasn't your fault, and Spencer chuckled to himself as he brushed back your hair and gazed softly down at you. 

How did something so loud and guttural come from someone so sweet and small? Spencer supposed it had something to do with how grumpy you were when you were tired compared to your bubbly happy self when you were awake. 

Spencer found now he could hardly sleep if you weren't there to snore in his ear, but he never told you that you did so. He was pretty sure you didn't know, which he couldn't fathom. More often than not you woke yourself up with a loud snort, then told him to leave you alone even though he hadn't touched you. 

But now he slid down the bed, making you sleep angry, to hold you to his chest once more. He kissed your forehead as you settled once more and whispered, "I love you, bunny."

You snored in reply, your little chest vibrating against him. Soon enough, you'd start drooling on him, but he didn't mind. Spencer welcomed it, in fact, because it was just another reminder that you were there with him. 

---------------

After you got unpacked, things got a little weird. 

Spencer was on you, all the time. It wasn't always sexual, although because he was who he was it tended to be, but he was always touching you. Whether it was pulling you into his lap or lifting you onto the counter just to bury his face in your neck and hug you tightly, he barely let your feet touch the ground. 

You weren't sure what changed that night in front of the fireplace. At first you chalked it up to your first major holiday together as a couple, but now that Christmas was only a few days away that theory went out the window. As far as you'd been concerned it was a normal night of screwing and cuddling and then Spencer playing with you after, but he was different. 

He was still him, but he was more protective. He looked out the windows a lot and always answered the door before you could. He didn't want to go out for dinner much anymore, instead insisting he accompany you to the grocery store and keeping his eyes on every person around and a hand on the back of your neck. 

If you were walking in the house, he'd scoop you up and set you on his hip, depositing you wherever you were heading, making sure to place a kiss on your temple. He was more affectionate, not that he'd really held back before, but this was new.

You didn't know what the hell was going on. 

You were standing in the kitchen, stirring a pot of noodles and staring absentmindedly on your phone. Instagram was incredibly boring, and you'd wanted to get out of the house tonight, but Spencer was supposed to be back soon from a case. 

You were growing restless in the house with its big empty corridors and the creaking it always made when it settled. At least at the duplex you were close to shops and markets, but out here you had to wait for Spencer to go anywhere as you didn't have a car from years of city living. 

There was something about this place that made you feel small, and with winter you couldn't even enjoy the patio or a garden. You were lonely and he was gone so often… 

Tap!

A tap at the kitchen window got your attention, making your heart stop for a second as you looked up in shock. It was dark, windy and rainy, so you couldn't see anything. 

Turning the pot to a simmer, you went toward the back door, leaving the bubbling behind. Barefoot, you padded over and flicked on the back lights, flooding the yard with white halogen.

Rain splattered the patio with its frozen strikes. Snow covered the grass and the concrete, half melted with the break of day and refrozen after the sun had set. 

Tap tap!

You gasped as you heard it again from the window in front of the stove, but when you looked over there wasn't anything hitting it. Making sure the door was locked, you went back over and climbed up on the counter to look out the window better. 

Nothing but the snow and the big oak tree in the middle of the yard. You looked off into where the darkness met the forest line, your back fence reflecting the porch light. Was there something out there? Kneeling by the big gnarled trunk…

Tap! Came from the back door this time, and your chest heaved as you jumped once more. You didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but something felt wrong. The hair on your arms stood on end and you were on edge, suddenly feeling so very not alone in this big house. 

A shadow moved, reflecting in the window. You watched it in horror as it approached behind you, going stock still as you trembled like prey. 

"Bunny?"

You shrieked embarrassingly, scrambling away from the voice and kicking the hot pot on the stove. You clutched your foot and whimpered, looking tearfully as your eyes latched onto Spencer. 

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, squinting and coming close.

He reached out to inspect your foot, but you grabbed his hands and put them around your waist to hold you instead. You collapsed in his arms, clinging to him as you sat on the counter. 

"You, you scared me!" you cried, bursting into tears. Spencer stiffened for a moment in confusion, but then he scooped you up and set you on his hip to hold you. 

"Bunny, what's wrong?" he asked softly, kissing your temple as you sobbed. "I didn't mean to, I swear."

"I thought someone was in the yard," you sniffled, and his head snapped up as his body coiled dangerously.

He set you on the floor and pointed to the walk in pantry, pulling his service weapon out of its holster. You watched him with wide eyes as he snapped his fingers and pointed again, "Go in there. I'm just going to check it out."

"Don't," you pleaded, but he just pushed at your chest with his free hand. 

"It'll be fine. I'm sure there's nothing out there."

You did what you were told, closing the door behind you and blanketing you in darkness. There was no lock, so all you could do was lean against the cool plaster wall and wait. The bubbling of your burning pasta echoed behind the thin wood of the door as you sat in pained silence. 

It felt like ages that he was gone, and when you heard the heavy back door creak open and shut, then lock, your breath caught in your chest. Heavy footsteps sounded on the wood floor, coming straight for you. 

The handle turned, and light flooded the little closet as you held a hand over your eyes. 

Spencer stood in the doorway, holstering his gun. He held out his hand for you and helped you up, immediately lifting you and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

"There's nothing there," he whispered, his big hand on the back of your head to hold you close. 

You burst into relieved tears, and he just cradled you and rocked you. "It's okay. It's going to be okay. You just scared yourself."

There was a crinkling in his jacket you hadn't felt before, and you pulled back to peek inside his suit jacket. A manila envelope was tucked inside, and you looked up and frowned at him. 

"It's for work," he smiled down at you, but you could see the worry in his eyes. "Crime scene photos and a file. I don't want you to look."

"I'm sorry," you sniffled, rubbing your cheeks in embarrassment. "I don't know how I got so worked up."

"It's okay, don't worry. I'm here, bunny."

Spencer carried you back to the kitchen and turned off the burner, using a hot pad to move the pot to a cool part of the stove. You shook in his arms, exhausted after your scare, but Spencer just rubbed your back as he took you upstairs. 

"I didn't mean to ruin dinner…"

"Fuck dinner," he replied as you entered the bathroom. He set you on the counter and filled the tub, letting you clutch his fingers as he put bubble bath in and fluffed it up. 

When it was ready, Spencer turned off the water and undressed you. With soft touches and gentle commands, he took off your clothes and then his, then carried you in the tub. 

He massages your worries away, refusing to let you feel bad about dinner or getting upset. He washed your skin and made sure your hair didn't get wet, then took you to bed. 

Whereas before you were worried about his clinginess and refusal to let you walk if he could help it, you were grateful that night. You spent all night plastered to his side, his big hands smoothing your fears and worries away. 

He carried you back downstairs when your grumbling belly got too loud, made dinner while you sat on the counter and glared out the windows. He even fed you by hand, trapping your jaw with his fingers and making sure you were full. 

Spencer kept you safe, telling not to worry, that he'd take care of you. He convinced you that you were okay, and you fell asleep in his arms and believed every word. 

---------------

When you finally fell asleep, Spencer slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom to retrieve his suit jacket. 

Pulling out the envelope, Spencer opened the little metal enclosure. He looked over his shoulder to where you lay, bathed in moonlight and snuggling a pillow in lieu of him. So small and vulnerable, naked and all alone in that big bed without him…

The snow had melted a bit on the manila, and when Spencer pulled the bundle of papers out of it it stuck to the inside. While you hid in the pantry, he'd already looked at them, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from doing it again. 

They were pictures of you. 

One was of you at the duplex, taken from the back yard as you cooked in the kitchen in a pair of leggings and one of his shirts. Your skin was a bit darker, and by the Halloween decorations Spencer knew that Scratch had known about you for a long time. 

Another was of you and him hanging Christmas lights just a few weeks ago, with Spencer grinning like a fiend as you laughed below him. There were others of you through the windows, including one of you and Spencer drinking coffee at the bar in the kitchen. 

He'd gotten an alarm on his phone just as he was pulling up in the driveway, that the lights had gone on in the backyard. He'd come quickly inside to check on you. 

Then he saw you looking out the window, obviously terrified. He really hadn't expected anything to be outside in the blistering cold, but when he opened the back door the envelope sat on the patio table along with a note:

She's too pretty for you, Spencer. She'll look even better cutting her own heart out. 

He'd signed it with a heart, the sick fuck. 

Spencer dialed Luke and held the phone to his ear, watching you as it rang. He put the papers away and slipped them in his briefcase before standing in the doorway to keep an eye on you…just in case. 

"What's up?" Luke asked as he picked up, but he sounded exhausted. "Bunny kick you out yet?"

It was in good humor, as Luke had told him he couldn't believe you even wanted to live with him after knowing him longer than two weeks, but Spencer wasn't in the mood. 

"I need your help, Luke."

That got his attention, and Spencer heard him sit up as covers shifted around him, "What's going on?"

"Scratch found out about Bunny. He's been watching us." 

Notes: Please tell me what you think! Do you think Spencer's reasons justify his actions to Bunny? Do you think Scratch will come for her?

CM Forever Tag:

@thedancingcostumeyoungadult @muffin-cup @simplyparker @spencerreidsmommy @hotchandspencearedilfs @gspenc @kbakery @nomajdetective @givemeth @hoshihiime @halloween-is-my-nationality @reidselle @thisiscalmanditsdoctorreid @dreatine @thebloomingeagle @fortheloveofwonderland @theforgottenwinter @parkerreidnorth @reidselle @randomhoex @scargarcia-magshotchner @stitchwrites @pygmygoat-bicyclehelmet @cle13 @aysixdy @elhotchner @directioner5life @elhotchner @loveeee2134 @preciousbabypeter @la-stuffs @stories-you-wont-hear @hotchlover @fortheloveofwonderland @lokiandhisdagger @bellanutellababyyy @dark-night-sky-99 @straightforbuckybutgayfornatasha @maltamurdock @charelletjee @kansas-reid @zephyrmonkey @spencer-reid-wonderland @spencersprettyslut @im-sure-its-fine @tvdstelenaforever @teddylupintonks  @lilibet261 @kneelforloki @dirtytissuebox @almostgenerallyalways @whovian378

[transformers-mosaic]

Transformers: Mosaic #567 - "The Gift Of Friendship"

Originally posted on December 23rd, 2010

Story, Art - Simon Reeves Colours - Ibai Canales Letters - Franco Villa

deviantART | Seibertron | TFW2005

wada sez: What do you mean, Christmas was a month ago? The Transformers: Mosaic archive train stops for no holiday. On deviantART, Reeves talked about the strip: “was a really rushed mosaic art wise but luckily we had a great (and super fast) colourist to help improve my rushed line art. and of course, franco's lettering skills are awesome considering there was so much text and such small panels. breast feeding flowers are always funny, as is 'angel bee' and finally we now have an answer to the question on all transfans lips- if prime has an energon axe in the cartoon, what energon weapon does cosmos have hiding behind his hand? an energon spade/trowel!! doubt anybody noticed, but ive got sideswipe beating up sunstreakier like he did in last years 'appreciation' xmas mosaic. sludge is a really annoying character to write about. it's awkward to read his narration when he has such a broken speech pattern, but you can't have him speak normally so trying to find a middle ground was challenging. [...] from the time i thought up the story to the final finished product i think took about a week and a half. never again.” He also shared his original idea for a Christmas strip, which he would’ve done if he “had more time”; I’ve mirrored it below, after Villa’s Italian translation of the strip.

festive mercy 'christmas: late night' starscream is in a security room at decepticon hq arguing with megatron. monitors show the decepticon party. various funny images such as laserbeak tied down on a plate like an xmas turkey.

screamer says "you have no right megatron! i deserve to be at the christmas celebration. not stuck on security detail" megatron says "deserve starscream? you deserve to be stamped down into sub-par decorations for your pitiful performance against prime earlier"

'earlier: christmas afternoon' outside in the snow prime is beating the shit out of starscream using a huge christmas tree prime says "you shall not ruin today for the humans starscream. not this day. not christmas day!" screamer says "mercy prime- i beg of you"

'christmas: early evening' decepticon hq party. starscream is obviously scared as the decepticons are running around. the decepticons have their head replaced by optimus heads. thundercracker says "merry xmas starscream" screamer says "eeep!!" screamer thinks 'everywhere i look i see his face'

now we see that the decepticons dont have prime heads- its just starscreams imagination. a decepticon is throwing up as others get drunk. screamer says "er yeah thundercracker. you too." screamer thinks 'my nerves are shot. i dont know how much longer i can bare this' megatron is watching starscream shake with fear megatron thinks 'look at him. the coward. however, when pushed, prime is an intimidating foe. perhaps his temperary fear is somewhat... understandable?' starscream is whispering (keep away keep away) as his fellow cons dance around him (imaginary prime heads on the decep bodies). megatron thinks ' exposing his fear- humiliate him- a truely delicious present for myself.' decepticons are all cheering "merry christmas!!" megatron thinks '... and yet...' megatron says "starscream relieve soundwave in security. the spoils of war are for winners only" screamer says "th- this is intolerable!! " relieved yet afraid to show it. megatron says with a smirk "and one more thing- merry xmas you waste of energon" screamer replies "merry xmas you over sized scraplet"

[missaddamsworld]

Evajacks Christmas Special

Hi Everyone!

This is my first fanfic so please take it easy on me.

Thank you @jackstheprinceofhearts for the prompt and your review!

If you have time, please visit her page, she's the best <3

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or OUABH or TBONA.

Warning: Possible spoiler if you haven't read both books! **********************************************************************

Christmas Special

“What would a fate want for Christmas? That thought was coming back for the hundredth time to Evangeline’s mind. Should she buy him a dozen apples? Or a scarf? His skin was always cold, he didn’t need that. And the apples he ate were not ordinary fruits.

She walked down the market as the snow fell lightly on her cape. She already bought presents for Lala and Chaos. So far, she could say she had friends. Lala was on her friend list for a long time, but she decided to add Chaos recently. She was also thinking about him as a friend since he helped her stay human on that fateful night. She thought about Luc as a friend, but giving him a present would have been awkward. 

There was one more person she could not add to her friend list, but rather to her love list. J-A-C-K-S. Yes, he was the love of her life. After they broke the Archer’s curse, they agreed to take things slow. Nobody knew that the curse was broken, and no one had seen them having their first kiss. There have been many secret kisses and touches since then. Jacks felt vulnerable and needed time to adjust to his new life. Despite the current situation, he was his old self.

“Argh, I hate Christmas.” He was grumbling when Lala and the Valors set up a meeting to discuss the holiday season tasks.

“What?” Asked Evangeline.

“He hates all the Holidays” Lala replied with a smirk. She knew it would bring trouble for Jacks.

“Why do you hate all holidays?” Evangeline furrowed her bows.

“Christmas is truly not about love and family. It is about decorations, stupid kisses under the mistletoe, false singing, and expensive presents. What are you even getting presents for? The season changing?!” He started his speech bored but became quite upset in the end.

“Jacks, you are being ridiculous.” Evangeline was so disappointed, yet she somehow knew he would react this way. That is just the way he was.

“Fine, put up your stupid decorations, get presents and give kisses under the stupid mistletoe. Just don’t involve me.” It seemed like the mistletoe was the main enemy. He was probably jealous since he could never kiss any girl without killing them.

That was the last time he attended the Christmas meetings.

It was very challenging to love him sometimes. Yet Evangeline wanted to give him something personal and enjoy the holidays with him. She tried to involve him in the preparations, but it was a big failure.

“At least please tell me you are attending the Christmas ball.” Evangeline was looking at him with big watery eyes.

“I do not want to attend. I told you this is all a waste of time.” He sighed and leaned back in his armchair.

“Very well. Then I will ask Chaos or maybe Luc to be my partner…” she provoked him with the other possibilities.

“You wouldn’t dare, Little Fox.” He narrowed his eyes, but he knew he had lost this round.

“Try me, Lord Jacks.” She kept her face straight, but inside she smiled wide. She knew he wouldn’t let her near Luc or Chaos.

“Okay, you won… Anyways, you owe me a dance since Lala’s engagement party.” He smirked.

Lost in thoughts, she found herself wandering at a jewelry stand on the opposite end of the market. She looked at the beautiful crafts and gems and suddenly found out what could be the perfect present for the Prince of Hearts.

Evangeline had a plan, but she needed help. She grabbed her skirt and ran to the castle’s highest tower, where Honora Valor opened the door with a bright smile.

Christmas day finally came. Evangeline put the last ornament on the Christmas tree and took a few steps back to adore the view. The lights on the tree were flickering, its shine mirrored by the decorations. It was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.

It was time to get ready for the ball. She had her rose gold locks pinned on the top of her head. The dress on her was astonishing. It was glittering from top to bottom. It had a deep V-cut neckline and no sleeves. The corset had rose gold glitters and white flowers. The skirt started with white flowers and dark, almost brown shade glittering material underneath. The colors blended into rose gold again. Silky, white flowers were coming up from the bottom as if they wanted to reach the other flowers on the waist.

“Little Fox, I know I promised you to attend the ball, and I will. But first I have to take care of something. Meet you in the main hall.” She heard Jacks’s projected thoughts.

“Don’t keep me waiting for long…” she replied and placed a box on the table. Carefully took out Jacks’s dagger to take one last look. The blade was polished, almost glowing in her hands. How many times was she cut with it… 

Sweet memories of Jacks and apples rushed through her mind. She licked her lips. She almost felt the metallic taste of his blood.

When she visited Honora Valor she asked her help to fill the holes in the dagger where the gems were missing. In a couple of minutes, she was holding her breath as Honora gently opened an opal black box and offered to use the stones of the Valory Arch.  

One for luck. 

One for truth. 

One for mirth. 

One for youth. 

She put the dagger back into the box and approached the main hall, hoping Jacks was already there.

She was wrong.

The whole hall was vibrating. People along the long tables were chatting and laughing when she came to her seat. Mistletoe was hanging from the ceiling and even at the arches. The decoration was mesmerizing. On the sides of the hall, ice sculptures were on the tables. Spicy, sweet biscuits covered the shiny plates. The Christmas tree was the main attraction of course. Evangeline saw people laying their presents underneath the tree. She did not want to give him the gift here. She wanted to see his honest reaction. In front of everyone, he would probably hide all his emotions.

When the dinner started, she searched the room, yet no sign of Jacks. The seat next to her was untouched.

“I must say you look radiant tonight.” Luc appeared in front of her all of a sudden.

“Thank you, Luc. That’s very kind of you.” she said, but in her mind, she repeated: DON’T LOOK INTO HIS EYES. She knew how that would affect her. God, it was so hard to look at someone but don’t look into the eyes.

“Where is your apple gobbler shadow?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Uhm, I don’t know. He promised to be here shortly.” She put pressure on that word, hoping Jacks could hear it too.

“Well, you still owe me a dance” He winked and lifted his hand while bowing.

“Oh, oh… right.” She took his hand hesitantly, wishing it would be Jacks's hand. She heard almost the same sentence from Luc when they were at Lala’s engagement party. She looked around and caught Chaos’ grin from the corner.

The music started with a slow rhythm, and Luc took the lead. They moved around on the dance floor like she knew how to dance. It was easy while Luc’s hand was on her waist to guide her. He was the first love she had. Evangeline remembered how Luc comforted her after her father died. That sweet boy, who had always been there for her. But after Marisol’s curse, he became her fiancé, then a vampire.

What could have been if Marisol didn’t curse him? Would they still be together? Would they have stayed in Valenda? How would it have ended?

“You know, I wanted to apologize for everything. I was so lost when I came to the North. I saw the world through foggy eyes, not thinking about anything but her. Only one thought played on my mind: I had to find the cure and return to Marisol so we could be together again. When I’ve been bit, I sobered up. The vampire venom lifted the fog from my mind.” He smiled sadly. “When I saw you through the cage, I could not believe my eyes. I want you to know that it wasn’t me, it was the venom. I would never hurt you, Eva.” He looked at her, she could feel his eyes on her flushed cheeks.

Luc looked up and grinned. “Seems like we have an obligation now.”

Following him, she looked up and found herself underneath the mistletoe.

Oh no, no no no no no… This is not good. Do NOT look into his eyes!!! She looked down to avoid eye contact.

Luc was looking at her again but could not see her frightened eyes. Slowly he lifted her chin with his hand and leaned into a kiss. Evangeline tried to fight against it, but she accidentally looked into his eyes. His eyes were so familiar, promising the whole world, all the comfort and a happily ever after. Yet they were on fire, crashed and burned and tortured her soul. 

One minute he was there and in another the Prince of Hearts was standing in front of her. His eyes were burning with anger. One of his hands was on Luc’s throat; with the other one, he was holding a dagger to his face. He turned his head towards Evangeline. “Little Fox, look at me.”

She looked into his furious icy blue eyes. This is how she imagined him when she decided to visit his temple. He looked cruel, sublime, merciless. Then the ice melted when their eyes met. Nothing left but the swirling ocean, pulling her deep down. She blinked a few times and smiled at him. “You kept me waiting…” She said playfully.

“Sorry love. Had something to take care of.” He winked and turned back to Luc.

“And you… if I ever and I mean EVER see you near her, I will rip your heart out and chop off your ugly head. Understood vampire boy?” He ground through his teeth.

“Understood, Prince of Hearts” Luc grinned since he was sure about one thing: Jacks could never kiss Evangeline without killing her. He didn’t know how wrong he was.

She will come back to me. He thought and lifted his hands as a sign of surrender.

“Will you dance with me, Little Fox?” He smiled and waited for her to accept his hand.

“If you are asking so nicely, how could I refuse?” Evangeline flushed, but before she could hide her emotions, Jacks grabbed her waist and pulled her closer.

"Every time I leave you alone for a bit, someone tries to steal you from me, kill you or enchant you." He sighed hopelessly.

"But you always find me just in time." Evangeline leaned her head on his chest while they slowed their pace.

"That's your luck. Otherwise, you would have been suffering from Luc's smelly breath and sweaty hands by now." He grimaced to express his disgust.

"Thank you for saving me… again." She lifted her head to look into his darkened eyes. "I know you don't like this Holiday thing, but I have a present for you. It's in my room though. Please accept it." She squeezed his hand to give strength to her words.

"Well, I've got you a gift too." He said shyly. SHYLY! Jacks said something shyly.

The shock on her face made him chuckle. One more thing she was not used to.

"Don't look at me like that. This is all new to me. I've been alive for centuries, yet no one could make me feel the way you do, Little Fox." He stopped suddenly and looked up. Evangeline was so shocked that she did not realize where they were. When Jacks was so close, everything else disappeared. She could only see him, not the surroundings or the other people.

"Kiss me." He demanded after he tilted his head up. Another mistletoe. Doubt and fear filled her eyes.

"Are you ready for this? It's okay if you don't want to. I understand. What we have is enough." She said and she meant it. She loved all the stolen moments they spent together as a couple. Jacks handled the secret relationship so well, she didn’t want it to be over. She was afraid his behavior would change.

He leaned to her ear and softly whispered. “After this little accident, I want to show everyone: You’re mine.” A shiver tripped down her spine at the last word. 

He pulled back to look into her eyes. She swallowed and nodded slowly. “I’m yours.” Not just for tonight. She thought, and she had a feeling that Jacks heard it too.

Then everything went into slow motion. Jacks cupped her face and leaned into a kiss.

“Nooo!” She heard the screams, but she smiled at her love before pushing her mouth to his. 

This kiss was indeed worth dying for. Kissing him felt like falling again and again, just like when they jumped off that cliff before. His soft lips felt like clouds, lifting her higher and higher. His hand on her waist held her tight to stay on the ground. He was so close, that she could feel his racing heart against hers. She never thought she could love this hard. Shivers with fire ran through her again and again. This was his attack against her body and every time she happily surrendered.

He pulled out from the kiss with a smirk. She couldn’t help but smile too.

Evangeline was finally able to look around. All she saw were horrified looks. Everyone was looking at them.

“Now that I've declared my claim on you, we should go.” He said smugly and led her out from the main hall.

After they arrived at Evangeline’s room, she felt her hands shaking from the excitement. Will he be happy with the gift? What if he finds it stupid? There’s only one way to find out. Get yourself together and hand it over…

“I’m sure I’ll love it, whatever it is. It’s from you.” He said softly. She didn’t realize that her thoughts were so loud.

Evangeline picked up the box and placed it into his hands. “Merry Christmas, Jacks.” She tried to force a smile on her face.

Jacks pulled the ribbon to untie the bow. His long fingers moved quickly. He held his blade with an adored look. 

“I was looking for this for a while” He cracked a smile, his eyes glowed unnaturally.

“I stole it. And with Honora’s help, I repaired it.” She pointed to the gems on the hilt.

“One for luck. One for truth. One for mirth. One for youth.” For a second his eyes were wide open with surprise.

“You put THOSE stones on the hilt?” She heard his shocked voice.

“Yes. Just in case… you know. If you’d like to go back in time.” She said insecurely.

“Oh, Little Fox. I have no reason to go back in time anymore.” He stepped closer and looked deep into her eyes. “Right here and now I have everything I could wish for.” He lowered his head to meet her forehead. “Thank you for this beautiful present.” After a quick kiss, he pulled her towards his room.

“Now it is my turn.” He opened the door and stepped aside so Evangeline could see what was waiting for her. Hundreds of candles lit the room. Shadows were dancing on the walls as he closed the door behind them. She saw rose petals flowing across the floor like blood in the dim light.

“Jacks, what’s going on here?” She asked him curiously.

“I’m done hiding. I want to be with you. Not in secret, but for real. In the Hollow, I meant it,  when I asked you to let me pretend you are mine and pretend that you want to be mine. Now I’m asking you to stop pretending.” He held her hands in his and lightly squeezed them.

“Jacks… I stopped pretending right after that night.” She smiled lovingly.

“Then allow me…” He let go of her hands and took a step back. He got down on one knee and pulled out a little jewelry box from his pocket.

“Evangeline Fox, will you honor me by becoming the queen of my heart?” He whispered as these words were so intimate, no one else should hear them.

For a moment, she felt like falling again. She felt dizzy, her heart was racing and her palms were sweaty. A proposal? So this was what he was planning to give her.

She managed to tear her eyes from his and as she looked down there was it. A ring! From the Prince of Hearts, asking her to be his queen.

The ring was gold with a big ruby heart-shaped gem in the middle surrounded by smaller diamonds. But the longer she looked at it the more she saw. Drops of gold-flecked blood were bouncing in the ruby. She knew what those were; she saw them before.

“Is that—?” She started, but he interrupted.

“My blood.” He smiled gently. “You’re not the only one who visited Honora. There was one thing I wanted to do since I used the stones to go back in time and save your life.” Jacks caught the surprise in her eyes but continued before she could speak a word.

“I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. But you are mortal and I’m a fate. I cannot lose you. Ever. So, I asked her to help me solve this problem. If you say yes, with this ring on your finger and a spell we can have our happily ever after forever.”

She gasped for air, but she knew that this was the greatest gift she could ever imagine.

“Yes. YES!” She cried in excitement and felt the magic swirling through her limbs as he pulled the ring on her finger. He stood up and leaned closer to her.

“I’m yours and you are mine until the end of time. Forever.” He whispered the words so low she could barely hear them.

“Forever.” She replied and felt the weight of the magic behind it.

Jacks sealed their promise with a tender kiss, but she could only think of the fireworks in her stomach and the magic running through her body.

He was finally hers. Forever.

[whump-me]

Obscure: Chapter 18

Chapter 18 of Obscure, novel-length interrogation whump about a rebel leader who can erase memories with a thought, an interrogator who can see inside his subjects’ minds… and the connection they share that neither of them suspects.

Masterpost | the Mind Games universe | Read the completed novel on Patreon

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Kirill

The pine scent of the woods tickled Kirill’s nose. It smelled thick and almost spicy. Not like the stuff they sprayed out of a can in front of the Christmas shops every year in the malls. The trees stretched out dizzyingly high, seeming to converge to a single point at the top, far above Kirill’s head. Faint splotches of blue sky shone through the shadowy fuzz of the pine needles, which were so green they were almost black.

The needles only grew near the tops of the trees. It was like the trees had abandoned the older branches at the bottom, leaving them to die as the trees stretched ever higher, chasing the newer branches and pinning all their hopes on them. Kirill had never noticed that before. But then, he had never spent much time in the woods. His childhood had been all marshlands and meadows. He knew that now.

One of his girlfriends had been a hiker. Sandy, Shelley… he couldn’t remember her name now. Something that had some piece of nature in it. They had hiked every weekend, her patiently slowing her pace for his unpracticed legs. The woods hadn’t smelled oppressively spicy to him then, and the shadows hadn’t seemed so dark. The shade had been romantic as he pressed her against a tree to steal a kiss. The smell had felt like the headiness of new love. Because that was what love was—the happiness of becoming the embodiment of someone else’s secret dreams. A mirror of themselves. He had mirrored her until it hurt, and the pain had felt good.

There was nothing romantic about the woods today. It didn’t feel like pleasant dizziness and stolen kisses. It didn’t feel like home, either. Of course it didn’t. What had he expected?

He had been walking for two hours. Long enough for his absence at headquarters to be noticed. Two hours was long enough to get hopelessly lost. Long enough for someone to send the forest rangers after him if he didn’t come home. Not that anyone would know where to look for him. Camille would certainly never suspect that he had gone hiking. Like her, he liked his creature comforts too much.

He had followed the trail, or he thought he had. It wasn’t like the wide trails he had hiked with Sandy-or-Shelley, packed flat by dozens of weekend warriors and marked with reassuring colored triangles painted on the trees. This trail was a nearly imperceptible parting of the underbrush, a squiggly line of dirt painted through the fallen leaves by a slim brush wielded with a cautious hand.

Half the time, he hadn’t known whether he was following a trail he could see in front of him, or the map he had plucked from Elias’s memory. Either one could have led him wrong at any time over the past two hours. Maybe he had made a wrong turn in the first five minutes, and had spent the rest of the time following deer trails and phantoms.

Maybe he should give up and turn around in the hope of making it out of the woods by sundown. Assuming he could find his way back.

But as he turned, the smell of smoke caught his nose. He lifted his head and took a long sniff. He turned back around, toward the smell, toward the squiggling trail—or what he thought he was the trail. He kept walking.

The ground ahead of him swelled upward in a rise too mild to be a hill. The trail circled around to the right. And on the other side lay a cluster of cabins. He had seen these cabins in Elias’s memory. Only the details were different—a window broken and boarded up, laundry hanging on a line. Smoke rose from a chimney, even though it was too warm for a fire. Someone was cooking, maybe. There was no way they got electricity out here.

As he had the thought, the answer came to him from Elias’s memory, now his own—a wordless affirmation. Yes, they lived without electricity out here, aside from a single generator for emergencies. The answer came to him as swiftly and surely as if he had been here before. Would Elias’s memories always be so deep a part of him? Would he never be rid of them?

If only he could be rid of his own.

He took another deep breath, sucking in the mingled scents of pine and wood smoke. He closed his eyes. It still didn’t smell like home, unless he thought about the last time he had seen his home, when it had burned.

He didn’t know why he had thought it would.

Why had he come out here? He should have been back at headquarters, triumphantly striding into Ramachandra’s office with a thick folder full of everything Elias had given him. His proof of where his loyalties lay. Disappearing now, before passing on the information, would be one more suspicious mark on his record.

He had just wanted to see it first.

From the brief glimpse in Elias’s memory, he had imagined a place much like his own home. Even before he had regained the full memory of his childhood, the image had twanged some discordant string deep within him, prodded a bruise better left untouched. But now that he was here, he could see that he had been wrong.

It wasn’t just the sense of claustrophobia the tall and thick trees created, so different from the meadow that had stretched all the way to the end of the sky. There was no one outside. There were no voices calling out between houses, full of laughter or good-natured complaints. The sense of expansive joy, of family, had hung in the air back home, as thick as the smell of smoke was now. He had never known it was there until he had endured its absence.

These cabins sat like they had their knees pulled up to their chests and their arms wrapped around themselves. The whole place felt closed-off and tense, expecting the worst.

And it smelled like smoke. Like death.

Why had he expected something different? Because Elias had created it? He already knew from what Elias had told him that this place was nothing like his home. This was a temporary waystation only, even if temporary here was measured in years instead of days or weeks. When anyone left this place, their memories of it were obscured. It was safer that way.

Kirill had asked him, near the end, why he had never tried to recreate the place where they had grown up. Only he hadn’t worded it that way—Ramachandra would read the transcript, after all.

Elias had looked at him with dark and solemn eyes that reminded Kirill of Sammy, the father echoing the son this time instead of the other way around. All safe havens are temporary, he had said. It hurts less when you acknowledge that from the beginning.

This was no safe haven. Very soon, the people in those cabins would find that out. Whoever had lit that fire. Whoever had hung that laundry.

Kirill had no business being here.

He had a home. His home was headquarters. If he was so desperate for a place to belong, all he had to do was go to Ramachandra and tell her he was ready to give up his silly reluctance to take assignments involving Enhanced prisoners.

A door creaked open. Kirill jumped. He ducked quickly behind a thick pine tree. Pine sap smeared down the sleeve of his black suit jacket. It lay there like a slug’s trail, gleaming in the scanty light. He knew from his hikes with Sandy-or-Shelley that it would be nearly impossible to get out.

He peered around the trunk of the tree. A little boy spilled messily out from the door in a headlong run. Another boy followed, taller, slower, his steps more cautious.

One of the boys had dark, dark hair and dark, dark eyes. The other’s hair was white-blond, his eyes as pale as clear water. Then Kirill looked again, and both boys had ordinary light-brown hair. They were as similar as brothers. He wasn’t close enough to see their eyes.

The boys ran across the small clearing to another cabin. The quick-limbed one banged on the door; the taller one hung back. The door opened, and a round-cheeked woman with gray in her blond curls smiled down at them.

That string twanged again in that dark place inside Kirill, too deep for him to reach.

He didn’t hear what the woman said to the boys. Her smile was enough. That smile spoke of family, a family too big to be contained by a single house’s walls.

The smaller, quicker boy handed her something. Some kind of contraption built of sticks and leaves, about the size of his palm. The woman nodded and held it out in her upturned hand. She focused on it with unblinking eyes, and it sailed into the air. The leaves, transformed to wings, flapped slowly up and down.

The smaller boy clapped and cheered, but not like he was witnessing something out of the ordinary. This was simple childish happiness at witnessing a wonder so ordinary to him that he didn’t know he should be awed. The taller boy watched with a small, shy smile.

Then the taller boy jerked slightly, like he had heard a noise. His smile faded. A furrow appeared between his eyes. He glanced over his shoulder.

Straight toward the tree where Kirill was hiding.

Kirill froze. He held his breath. He did his best to still his thoughts, falling back into one of the old exercises from his training. The exercise had been meant as a challenge for the telepaths, forcing them to find a way around the rudimentary barriers in their classmates’ brains.

When Kirill looked again, the boy had turned back to the contraption, which now sailed through the air in lazy circles. But he wasn’t smiling anymore.

Kirill needed to get out of here. Before the boy or anyone else read his mind, and saw who he was and who he worked for. As quietly as he could, he turned and padded through the soft, half-rotten leaves. He didn’t allow himself another look.

He moved as quickly as he could without risking noise. His limbs were filled with a fierce, panicked energy—the sudden impulse to get as far away from this place as possible.

He didn’t belong here.

He had never even wanted to spend time with the other Enhanced in PERI. When his training had concluded, he had gratefully left the false pretense of community behind. He wasn’t like them. They shared no invisible bond. They had a genetic glitch in common, that was all.

It didn’t mean he owed them his loyalty. It didn’t make them family. He had no family.

As far as he had known then, she never had. The crayon silhouettes in his memory didn’t count.

But Elias had ripped the peace of amnesia from him. The cluster of cabins behind him wasn’t home, but it was the closest thing he had seen since his home had burned. Closer, certainly, than the false bonds of training—hardship and hard work substituting for friendship, even as competition drove intentional wedges between them.

When he looked at those cabins, he saw those two little boys… he remembered.

He had done far too much remembering already.

He was ready to forget.

He stumbled along the trail without seeing it. Somehow, his feet never veered far from the skinny squiggle of a path. The map from Elias’s memory was a more reliable guide than his own eyes.

The sounds of the boys’ voices disappeared. When Kirill looked over his shoulder, he saw nothing but the thick pines and the shadows between them.

Then a branch cracked behind him.

He went still. Maybe it was his own footsteps he had heard. But another crack came, closer this time. Then the sound of a deep-voiced man clearing his throat.

He had gotten too close, and waited too long to leave. They had spotted him.

What excuse would he give them? How much had they already seen in his thoughts? Was it worth trying to lie?

He sorted through the personas in his mind, like clothes hanging in a closet. But none of them fit right anymore. They hadn’t since his memories had come back. The memories had swelled his mind until all his usual personas were two sizes too small. If he tried to put one of them on, it would split at the seams. And what would come spilling out then? Maybe Max, whoever he was.

Kirill felt suddenly woozy, like he was coming out of one of Elias’s obscurings. But it was only his heart pounding too fast to do its job properly. His vision swam. His fingers tingled with the beginnings of numbness.

He didn’t move.

Should he try to make an excuse?

Should he come clean?

Should he warn them to run?

Whose side was he on? Why had he come here?

Just thinking of warning them proved Ramachandra’s suspicions correct, he supposed. Maybe just the fact that he had come here proved that. And after he had spent so long privately seething at her for questioning his loyalties. Sudden anger flooded him—his own anguish, not part of any act. At Ramachandra for not only harboring unreasonable suspicions all this time, but for being right. At Elias for waking up these memories. At himself, maybe, for coming here.

And for letting go of Elias’s hand that day thirty years ago.

At least the anger broke through his paralysis, allowing him to finally act. But he didn’t take off through the woods. He turned to face his pursuer, a warning on his lips.

The words died before they could make it out of his mouth.

In front of him stood a team of two dozen operatives. They wore white hazmat suits that covered everything, even their faces. Even someone who had stayed away from headquarters as religiously as Kirill could recognize a PERI team. Two full teams, it looked like. They were prepared to meet resistance.

Kirill thought about those two little boys. He smelled smoke—on the air and in his memory. His mouth went dry. He closed it without saying a word.

Then someone who wasn’t wearing one of those suits stepped out from the mass. Kirill’s mouth fell open again. It was Ramachandra.

As she met his eyes, her face was as expressionless as if they had been back in her office. If she was surprised to see him here, she gave no sign. He doubted she was capable of feeling surprise. Surprise, after all, was an emotion.

“Acting alone?” Her smooth voice held no tone of reproach, but he heard it anyway. “That’s not like you.”

He searched her face for something more dangerous than reproach. Some suspicion that she knew why he was out here—although that would mean she knew more about his motives that he himself did. But if she did, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Her face, as always, revealed nothing.

“I wanted to confirm the information I obtained from the prisoner for myself before passing it on to anyone else,” he said. “I thought it best not to put one of our teams at risk unnecessarily. This prisoner has proved to be more clever than I expected. He found a way around my abilities.” He didn’t elaborate. “I couldn’t be sure this—and everything else he gave me—wasn’t a trick.”

Lucky for Kirill, Ramachandra was easy to mirror. But it wasn’t as easy as it used to be. He felt himself swelling at the seams, feelings he didn’t have the practice to recognize spilling out around the edges. Feelings that had nothing to do with what Ramachandra needed him to be.

“Noble of you,” she said, her voice so smooth it could easily have been either sarcastic or entirely sincere. “However, I thought it prudent to act on the information as soon as possible, before his people had any more of a chance to run.”

“I didn’t give you the information yet.”

“The cameras were running. When I saw that your interrogation had concluded, I reviewed the recording myself. There’s no need for you to do anything further.”

A reward for a job well done, or a dismissal? “And you came personally,” Kirill said with a question in his voice.

“This has been a pet project of mine for years,” she said, “since long before I brought you in on it. I wanted to see the first and largest part of the operation come to fruition in person. Call it sentimentality.”

Kirill would have laughed if she had given any sign that it was meant as a joke. Ramachandra was the least sentimental person he knew.

“You, however,” she said, her expressionless eyes biting into his with the impersonality of a sterile blade, “don’t need to be here. I’ll have one of my people escort you back to headquarters.”

He looked away before he could stop himself. He was sure it only made him look more suspicious. “I don’t know what you’re thinking,” he said, “but this isn’t about sympathy for Elias and the others. Quite the opposite. I was looking out for our own—”

“Of course you weren’t showing sympathy,” Ramachandra interrupted. “Don’t waste my time with unnecessary explanations, Kirill. That isn’t like you, either.”

He realized his mouth was hanging slack, and closed it too late. “The last time we spoke—”

“That was before you took my advice and followed through on the threat you made to the prisoner,” Ramachandra said. “Despite your reluctance, you did what was necessary, and it worked. As a result, we now have what we need. Congratulations.”

Her pause seemed to demand a response. “Thank you,” he managed.

She answered with a slight nod, barely more than an incline of her chin. “We’ll take it from here,” she said. “Will you be needing that escort?” As she spoke, she was already turning her back on him.

He shook his head, but she wasn’t looking at him anymore. “No,” he said. “I can find my own way back.”

She gave another nod without turning around. Then she said something to the team, brisk and businesslike, too low for him to hear. He had been dismissed and forgotten in the same breath.

He stared at their backs and thought about the two little boys only a few minutes away. What would it take to stop that team?

More than he had. His powers were useless here, far from an interrogation room. Some Enhanced, like Elias’s son, were made for combat. He wasn’t one of them.

For once, he couldn’t be what was needed.

Anyway, what was he thinking? He had no reason to warn them. They weren’t his family. Any passing resemblance was a mirage; any genetic similarity was a fluke of biology.

If he had thought—ever so briefly—of warning them, he should be grateful that this team had shown up before he could follow through on that temptation.

He had made his choice thirty years ago. It was too late to change his mind now. It was too late for regrets.

Elias had made that clear. Even if he were to be tempted, Elias didn’t want him back. Elias was ready to bury Max and turn his back on Kirill. If that had been true before what Kirill had done to Sammy, it was doubly true now.

Kirill started down the path that would take him out of the woods. He didn’t follow his eyes. He followed the map Elias had put in his head.

Like all Elias’s memories, it was painfully sharp and mercilessly clear. Like all Elias’s memories, he suspected it would never leave him.

He didn’t look back. He knew what came next. He had seen it before.

---

Tagged: @cakeinthevoid @suspicious-whumping-egg

Ask to be added or removed from taglist.

[starryficsfinishwen]

[pgr] salvation ⋄ alter/bianca

And they held her shoulders as the water drowned her—a baptism in her own sins.

a.n.// as promised: mommi bianca! uwu uwu I actually don't know how she came to be as abystigma hasn't been released, so ig you can say that this is like my theory of how she came to be? also some character study too because mommi looks so naisu-

pairing: alter/bianca x commandant (no particular pronouns used for commandant)

t.w.// major character spoiler!! also major character death? quite angsty if you squint, some descriptions of something gruesome happening

word count: 2,402

The light of the color-stained windows of the chapel looked more like a pool of blood.

Bianca knew this scene: a cold and unforgivable winter, a cross tainted with the blood of sinners and vital fluids, and a chapel with a dead body in front of her.

The memory is fresh as she held the weapon, trembling as the fluids dripped on the broken tiles. Every drop reverberating like the sound of her thundering heartbeat.

Outside, the winter called out its prey, the sound of the harsh winds clawing on the windows as sunrise broke through. Inside, Bianca's heart roared as the scene froze in front of her.

A sinner. That's right. That was what she is.

When the people came out to find her and the body, she already knew what happened next. A sinner damned to re-live her sins as penance. A sinner damned to face the cold-hearted truth that she was nothing more than someone who killed an innocent construct.

When the people came to take her— The sound of bells only surprised her.

❝Bianca!❞

Voices caught her attention, blinking at the sudden interference. No longer did she smell the rust and pine trees, but the taste of cinnamon and mint instead.

There was no chapel, nor a dead body in front of her; only a big tree and the golden lights of an artificial sky filled her view. Of course, it was only in her M.I.N.D.—they were only her thoughts.

She was in Babylonia.

❝Bianca?❞ A familiar voice called out once again. Turning to her side, her mouth slightly opened in surprise to see the esteemed commandant of the Gray Raven.

❝Commandant,❞ She sighed, ❝you are here. Did you need anything?❞

❝You were staring so long at the Christmas tree, I was afraid I lost you somewhere,❞ the smile on their face brought assurance to Bianca, ❝is something bothering you?❞

The warm breeze of Babylonia's square was suddenly evident to her. The mug she held, the laughter of children echoing the halls—she wished she could stop time to be with the commandant.

❝Christmas reminds me of salvation,❞ she spoke, ❝do you know about that?❞

The commandant paused for a bit, sipping their drink, ❝mm...not that I know of. Is there something about it?❞

Bianca remembered fondly—both the situation of what she meant, and somehow what she was going through. ❝It's about someone who unselfishly sacrificed their humanity for the redemption of everyone's sins.❞

It almost felt like deja vu.

❝Interesting,❞ the commandant nodded, trailing their attention to her, ❝what's their name?❞

❝The scriptures called Him, Jesus Christ.❞

The memory of a child in a manger, who grew up only to be nailed to the cross. Unselfishly, as Bianca said. The commandant hummed in satisfaction and wonder.

❝He sounds someone familiar.❞

Bianca looked at them, ❝Really?❞

They looked back at her, a glint in their eye, ❝doesn't he sound like you, Bianca?❞

When their hand reached out— The fearsome waves only seemed to crash on her.

No longer did the sound of bells welcomed her, nor the smell of cinnamon. Outside, the currents of the ocean seemed to knock on the walls.

What, in God's name, was happening?

❝Bianca!❞ an unfamiliar voice called outside her door, ❝Asimov would like to see you now. Are you done checking?❞

Musk and pine trees, the smell of her room. In front of her was a mirror—the surface reflecting her in an outfit she never once dreamed of wearing back when she was human.

Not long after, her door was carefully opened, revealing the commandant. Their expression turned from surprise to excitement as soon as they saw Bianca.

❝Hello,❞ they spoke, ❝I see that Asimov really did great. How are you feeling, Bianca?❞

❝I am alright,❞ looking at the mirror where the commandant was staring at, she gave them a small smile, ❝however, I am a bit worried.❞

Without hesitation, the commandant stepped inside, reaching out to place a hand on Bianca's shoulder. ❝What's wrong?❞

A rumble ran throughout her chest, a feeling that she somehow felt not too long ago. ❝I...it must be nothing. I must only be dreaming.❞

❝This will be a successful mission.❞ The commandant assured her, but her feeling said the opposite.

When she turned her back— The blaring lights of the submarine was blinking all the colors at her.

Green, yellow, red—all of her instincts were screaming all these colors. It almost made her nauseous, if only she were human. All the lights that seemed to glower in her line of vision, amongst the floor of the submarine.

Enclosed of the transparent scene, it felt like she was walking among the currents of the sea. Despite being next to a familiar figure, she could hardly breathe from everything she was feeling.

This was somehow not a dream anymore. Something was wrong with her—with her M.I.N.D.

❝Bianca,❞ commandant's voice seemed to have brought a twinge of clarity, ❝we can take a break if you want.❞

❝No,❞ even her responses felt like they were pre-programmed, ❝I am alright, I've told you.❞

❝But you look like you've exhausted yourself,❞ they pointed out, tugging her to the nearest debris for support, ❝I don't want you to be too tired.❞

❝Commandant,❞ every syllable seemed to burn on her tongue, ❝I am a construct; I do not need rest. We need to go, or what if a horde of the corrupted will swallow us?❞

❝Then I will be the one to protect you.❞ Commandant's voice was gentle, even among the wave of signals that flooded Bianca's visions, ❝you've already done so much for me.❞

❝It is my duty to protect you and other humans, Commandant.❞ Her chest felt like it was torn for a moment, ❝you need not to worry.❞

A sudden fluctuation threw her body for a moment—yet, for some reason, her body didn't even seem to twitch.

❝Remember what I told you about how similar you are to Jesus Christ?❞ The commandant asked.

❝Yes,❞ she spoke with a tremble, ❝what about it?❞

❝Well, I'm telling you that you don't have to sacrifice your life all the time.❞ The commandant reached out and squeezed her hand, and somehow, the throbbing pain in her body screamed out more, cutting out the commandant—

Her vision was drenched in red.

When the blurs of her vision made her writhe— All seemed to calm for a moment.

In front of her, when she opened her eyes, was an empty submarine. The ocean was still there, the fishes, the light—except, her sword was full of red.

And on her feet, a horde of dead corrupted.

Bianca felt the fluctuations on her body once more as her gloved hands scraped off the fluids on her sword. They were supposed to be vital fluids, but the substance felt more like blood—yet, like a pre-programmed robot, she still gripped on the handle of her sword as she scraped away all the fluids.

It felt sick and confusing—with her M.I.N.D. somehow playing tricks on her.

As she walked, the floor squeaked with all the fluids of the corrupted she killed. As she walked, she remembered the color-stained windows of the chapel. As she walked, the call of her body still screaming out red. Whatever she was feeling, she felt it twofold—yet, she could not stop it.

❝Commandant,❞ her mouth muttered, ❝where...❞

Time felt indispensible and frozen. The longer she walked, the more she felt lost. She wandered around, despite the cold drag of her feet with the corrupted she must have killed along the way— and yet.

A door that she has never seen before. By the time she moved, a lone corrupted stood along the way.

With its mouth oozing with viscous red liquid that Bianca could smell—blood.

❝You-!❞ Bianca screamed, her sword glinting under the light as she raised it above her head, ❝I will kill you-❞

When her sword was about to make contact with the lone corrupted— The light blinded her.

And she was floating somewhere—a body of water. Something that felt cool to touch, yet something that could hinder her from moving. With everything that had suddenly gone silent (the blinding colors, the fluctuations in her body), it almost felt unreal to be floating in a body of water.

❝Bianca,❞ the voice that she had been waiting for finally called out, ❝so, you are finally here again.❞

She remembered this; a memory, a lake. A place where no one but the commandant and her could share memories they can create for a long, long time. The color of the sun and the sound of the commandant was always a tune she could worship all this time.

❝Bianca,❞ they called out once more. This time, she felt her shoulders being held by their hands—somehow comforting her.

❝Commandant,❞ she spoke, but her mouth did not move, ❝can you hear me?❞

❝Bianca,❞ they did not, instead, the pressure on her shoulder tightened, ❝finally.❞

And suddenly—the sun that was above her turned hazy. The dark clouds and the water she floated in were dyed in the color she once abhorred all this time—red. She struggled to keep herself upright, but the commandant's grip on her shoulders kept her in place.

❝Commandant,❞ urgently, she shook his hands, ❝what are you trying to do?❞

But her voice reached deaf ears. The commandant's face became a blur, as if she had not recognized them anymore. Slowly, the faceless figure was pushing her onto the water, making Bianca restless move in their presence.

❝This is your fate, Bianca,❞ yet they spoke in a gentle voice, and with gentle hands as they brought her down onto the vermillion water. ❝accept it.❞—

And they held her shoulders as the water drowned her—a baptism in her own sins.

Bianca remembered it all now: the failed mission. the remnants of corruption. the water that she was baptised in. and the grueling pain all over her.

As she drowned in the water, she could feel every part of the corruption writhing in her skin: tearing her apart and knitting it back together. Her mouth swallowed gulps of it, and it felt like it was clawing her alive. As she drowned, it was like all her sins came back to haunt her once more, as if it was taunting her to rot in it without a return at all.

Jesus Christ must have felt that way when he was nailed to the cross—relentless, unforgiving, unworthy. To be killed just when you thought you were meant to live and save more people. Perhaps, salvation was a lie; a deception meant for those just to keep going until they reach the pinnacle and their end.

When the water rescinded— All she was left was a shadow.

A walking corpse that wandered along the path to nowhere, mercilessly killing those that was in front of her. There was no shame whatever vital fluid her sword caught; only nothing but an endless escape to find the end of her life. Friend or foe—their faces were a blur, and they were met with a painful end. Maybe until...

❝Retreat!❞ A voice she had been longing to hear called out, and a chorus of footsteps clanged along the path, ❝don't look back!❞

The unsheathing of Bianca's rotten blade created a defeaning scream, the slash of a metal as she felt her alienated body pick up the pace.

❝Split up!❞ the voice angered her, as if she was being played, ❝stay alive!❞

In the middle of the heist, Bianca blindingly and helplessly succumbed to the body she once knew. What was left for her anyway, a life in Babylonia? With a body that she no longer called her own?

❝Bianca!❞ a female voice rang out, catching her attention, ❝why don't you pick someone your own size!❞

Her body shifted. It followed the source of the voice, until she felt herself enclosed in a small area. ❝what happened, why did you do this?❞

Why did she do this? ❝None of your business.❞

Bianca's voice was rugged even, to the point she no longer discerned it as her own. A huge force pushed her off of the small face, and she could hear her opponent sigh in disbelief. ❝I thought you were better than this! Snap out of it!❞

Who was she to stop her? ❝Tsk, you are getting on my nerves.❞

A monster like her did not deserve such salvation.

❝Bianca!❞ A new voice called out, but this time, it somehow made her entire frame shake.

❝No-!❞ Without hesitation, her body followed the new source. Instinctively, Bianca seemed to resonate with the familiar voice.

At some point, she could somehow hear her breath loudly and deeply, as if in a small space. ❝So, it was you?❞

❝Bianca,❞ the voice spoke, paired with a loud scream, ❝let go!❞

She must have held them captive. But still, the presence of them somehow still made her aware and awake. The pressure she held onto the person tightened.

❝You deserve to die.❞ Her mouth spoke such foreign words, ❝filthy people like you don't need to save people like me.❞

Between the cries of the person and the shaking in her bones, she could suddenly feel a warm, familiar touch on her wrists. ❝Bianca,❞ the person said, ❝what have they done to you?❞

And suddenly, she was taken aback, the blur in her mind becoming filtered. Outside, her body shook further and she screamed—something about going away, something about death.

Her M.I.N.D. was back to a clear, blue sea. Floating, with the sun gently looking down on her. She was back here once more, but this time...

❝I've been waiting for you.❞ She looked up to see them—

❝You're here,❞ she choked in her tears, ❝you are finally here.❞

The hand of the Commandant that held on her shoulders were light. There was no fear, no hesitation written on their face; instead, it was a warm smile. ❝I told you I would save you.❞

And they held her again by the shoulders, the water filling her lungs—they called it baptism, but she called it salvation.

When the fog cleared— She was met with someone who held their wound on their stomach, a small smile on their lips.

❝Welcome back, Bianca,❞ the commandant croaked, before they closed their eyes, ❝I'll see you...in Babylonia.❞

Perhaps, it was salvation somewhere; the light of the color-stained windows of the chapel that looked more like a pool of blood.

[mjs-oc-corner]

fbawtft/riddle era original character sheet

(fankid — erbigail)

5/??

another fankid created in collaboration with @endlessly-cursed?? it’s more likely than you think. of course, another huge thank you to noe for helping me figure out nearly everything with dominique (even after she gave us the silent treatment for getting emmett’s profile done before hers lol)

Name: Dominique Elena di Napoli

Nicknames: Nikki, Minnie

Birthdate: June 1st, 1917

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

MBTI Type: ENFJ — the Protagonist

Blood Status: Half-Blood

Nationality: British with Italian ancestry

Physical Appearance

Hair: dark brown

Eyes: blue

Height: 5’5” / 1.67m

Weight: 120 lbs. / 54.43kg

Body Type: slim, lithe

Skin Tone: fair, slightly tanned during the summer months

Distinguishing marks (birthmarks, scars, etc.):

small, feint birthmark on her left shoulder

one small, feint scar on the side of her wrist from a brushing against a metal gate as a child

pierced ears

Background

Hometown:

Dominique would spend her early years at the di Napoli manor with her siblings, though they would end up leaving Italy and moving to England when she was only four.

Family

Mother

Abigail Jane di Napoli née Bennett — a woman who grew up in a loving family and wanted the same for her children, ensuring that they grew up in a loving, supportive environment knowing that they could rely on their family. though her and Ernest had agreed to have no more children, and she was surprised upon learning that she was pregnant with Dominique, she was still happy to have another child, as she did miss having a baby around (even if she couldn’t admit that to Ernest at first).

Father

Ernest Regulus Maurice di Napoli — a man from a rather broken home who would become a better man due to Abbi and their children, and would spend his life treasuring his family more than anything. along with Abbi, he would ensure that their children grew up in a loving home. while he was just as surprised as Abbi was to find out about the pregnancy, he was elated to have another baby.

Sisters

Dominique has two older sisters, Rory and Chrissy. she sees both of her sisters as confidants, and often asks them for advice when she needs it. Rory would be rather fond of Dominque, having helped their mother take care of the new baby. at first, Chrissy would be upset that she was no longer the baby, but she was okay with it once their father assured her that they would both be his babies no matter what. each of the sisters would be close to each other, with both Rory and Chrissy being protective over Dominique and helping guide her through life.

Brothers

Dominque also has two older brothers, Emmett and Theo. at first, Theo wasn’t too sure about a baby being around (as he was only eight years old when she was born), but eventually he would come to love having another younger sister. Emmett, however, would immediately take to Dominique from the moment she was born, and end up being the most protective over her, despite being ten years older.

Hogwarts

House: Gryffindor

Best classes: charms, transfiguration, muggle studies, history of magic

Worst Class: flying

Boggart: her older siblings, all as dark wizards trying to harm her

Riddikulus: each sibling turns into a small rag doll, each one with dopey smiles and ridiculous outfits

Patronus: white swan

Patronus Memory: the first christmas that she can recall; she’d just finished helping her family decorate the tree and a fresh snow had fallen, prompting her and her siblings to run outside to have a snowball fight

Mirror of Erised: as a child, she sees herself as an accomplished member of the Wizengamot. as an adult, she sees herself as the head of her department, with a family of her own

Amortentia (what she smells like): dark chocolate, tonka bean, caramel, a hint of vanilla. sometimes chanel n°5, a perfume gifted to her by Rory

Amortentia (what she smells): sandalwood, tobacco, leather, cinnamon, TBD

Career

Ages 11–18: Hogwarts student

Ages 18–22: Secretary/Desk clerk for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Ages 23–25: Secretary for the Wizengamot Administrative Services

Ages 26–29: Wizengamot Scribe

Ages 30–39: Interrogator for the Wizengamot Panel

Ages 40–65: Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Ages 65–??: Retiree

Personality & Attitude

Priorities: the mental and physical well-being of herself as well as her family and friends, her career

Strengths: fairness — bravery — loyalty — ambitious — creative — kind — empathetic — resilient

Weaknesses: headstrong — stubborn

Stressed: during the first few years of her career, when she began to grow frustrated with how she’d been treated by the higher-ups

Calm/Comforted: when she’s with her family or when she’s at her own home, catching up on her reading

Favorites

Color: red, gold, yellow, blue

Food: homemade ravioli

Drink: tea, with a sprinkle of sugar and a lemon wedge

Weather: cloudy, cooler temperatures or snowy

Hobbies: reading, music, studying, cooking and baking, journaling, painting

Fashion: Dominque’s style mainly consists of neutral and dark tones for her day-to-day wear, but she does have a few bolder colors in the red and orange color family that she occasionally wears. her primary focus is for functionality, as she is constantly busy and always moving.

Relationships

Significant Other/ Love Interest: TBD

Dominque is currently open for a relationship with others’ ocs, feel free to message me or reply to this to let me know if you’d like for your oc to be shipped with her!

Friends

TBD

Dominique is currently open for friendships with others’ ocs, feel free to message me or reply to this to let me know if you’d like for your oc to be friends with her!

Rivals

TBD

Trivia

Dominique learned to play the violin and piano when she was eight, and she’s very skilled in both

she wouldn’t admit it to any of her other siblings, but Emmett is her favorite (and everyone knows it)

as a member of the Wizengamot, Dominique is very unbiased during trials; and this causes supporters of dark witches and wizards in the panel to dislike her

her favorite sweet is chocolate

Dominique’s favorite season is winter