#but then wondered if perhaps that would be a little much

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 || read on AO3

summary: Reader goes on a beach vacation with Joel after her father breaks his leg. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, sexual tension, blow jobs, smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair (will add more as I add more parts)

note: The devil works fast but I work faster. New multi chapter smut fic inspired by those damn new Pedro pics in the works…enjoy part 1! I haven't planned all of the smut scenes, so if you have any requests for specific kinks/scenes, do let me know!

He’s dead fucking wrong. You love your father, enough to not immediately say no, but he’s wrong. It’s true you could use a girls’ trip, perhaps even a couple of days out of town with your Dad, and he’s not entirely off about university being the death of you, kiddo – you’ve spent one too many nights inhaling coffee and cramming for your finals. The idea of an all-inclusive trip is tempting, given the fact that all you manage to eat these days is pasta and store-bought pesto, if that.

Nevertheless, you need to keep studying, there’s less than two weeks left until your exams, and although the trip is only a couple of days, you don’t know Joel.

Sure, you’ve been to his barbecues, and he let you use his bike one year when yours was stolen and your Dad refused to buy you a new one, because you should have locked it up in the first place. You know how he patched up your Dad after the divorce – you never worried about your mother, who was heartbroken, but able to talk about it to her family and friends. Your Dad was the one you spent sleepless nights over. The way the beer bottles accumulated in his garage, how distant he seemed on the phone. You know it was Joel who looked after him, made sure he left the house and had anything edible inside it. You’re grateful for it, you are, but you don’t really know him. For most of your life, he has been a friendly smile and wave over a fence, and you’re shy around people you know much better than the occasional hey kid, you back for the summer? or if you see your Dad, tell him I borrowed his screwdriver, I’ll put it back tomorrow.

You do feel slightly guilty your Dad can’t go on his trip. He broke his leg, and although it’s not entirely your fault he slipped, you had been the one to mop the stairs right before the accident. As much as your Dad was looking forward to his vacation, after a week he had to admit a beach holiday would be little fun with a whole leg in plaster.

You sigh, staring at your phone screen, tapping on it every once in a while to keep it from turning black. He’s expecting an answer soon, you know he is. Who the hell books non-refundable trips anyway? When you get the time, you’ll need to tell him about a lovely invention that is insurance.

You glance over at the stack of unfinished coursework on your desk, your laptop taunting you with its quiet – no responses to the millions of job applications you have sent out have come through. At this rate, you’ll be jobless in a couple of months, when you finish your degree. You’ll have to live with either of your parents forever, no money for any sort of vacation whatsoever.

"Oh, screw it,“ you mutter, unlocking your phone, and typing quickly.

I’ll do it. Only because my A+ cleaning is the reason you can’t go. Tell Joel to bring something to read, I need to study.

***

"It’d be a shame if it went to waste, kiddo, I’m glad you’re doing this.“

"Yeah,“ you answer, thinking of the endless powerpoint slides you haven’t even looked at yet. "Maybe studying at the beach works wonders.“

There’s a knock on the door, and you move to open it, your Dad chained to his chair by his broken leg. You’re not particularly excited about the smalltalk you’ll have to make with your Dad’s friend, but if you remember correctly, Joel is as much the quiet type as you are, and might actually appreciate your studying. Great, you think, at least one of us will enjoy it, then.

When you open the door, the first thing that strikes you is how hard you find it to envision Joel at the beach – he’s all mountains and trees to you, with his lumberjack boots and flannel shirt. His smile is friendly, and only gains warmth when he notices the critical look you give his outfit.

"I know,“ he says, voice deep and quiet, "I’m king of dressing for the occasion.“

You grin, and open the door wider.

"Come on in. Dad’s in the living room. What’s with the…uh…“

Your voice trails off, as you gesture towards his distinctly un-vacationy clothes.

"Thought you might bail,“ Joel answers easily, stepping into the house. "Can’t imagine you’re overly thrilled about this.“

You think about denying it, but this is your chance to come clean about how you would much prefer keeping to yourself and preparing for your finals, so you sigh.

"Well, it’s kinda my fault Dad was, like, almost paralyzed from the neck down, so I figured the least I could do was not let his trip go to waste. I’ve got finals in two weeks, so the timing is…suboptimal.“

"Yeah, your Dad said. I brought reading material, so I won’t bother you too much.“

He’s easy, you realize. Easy to talk to, and easy to accept your reluctance to bond with an almost-stranger, quick to make you feel comfortable by hinting at that boundary. You smile back, and are struck by how he holds your eye contact until you break it yourself, nodding towards your suitcase.

"Think this will fit inside the car?“

"Sure,“ he answers, "I’ve got a Bronco.“

You have no idea what that means, but you assume it’s a good thing, so you smile vaguely.

"It’s an SUV,“ Joel explains with a hint of good-natured amusement in his voice.

"Right,“ you say, attempting to overplay your obvious lack in car-knowledge, "SUV. One of the big ones.“

It makes Joel smile again, and you notice the wrinkles around his eyes that make his face look all sunny. 

"Yeah,“ he says. "One of the big ones.“

You lead him into the living room to say good-bye to your Dad, who’s expression is a weird mixture of sombre and excited at the sight of his daughter and best friend getting ready to drive to the airport.

"Take care of her, Joel,“ he says, when you’re getting ready to leave.

"Don’t worry,“ Joel answers with a pat to your father’s arm. "I’ve got her.“

"I’m twenty-three,“ you remind your father, "I’ve done more dangerous things than a trip to the beach.“

"Yeah, but you’re still my little girl,“ he answers with a smile, squeezing your hand. You squeeze back, though his comment irritates you.

"See ya, Dad. Call me if something’s wrong with your leg, alright?“

"Sure, kiddo. Have fun, you two, and bring me a seashell.“

Joel grins at the open envy on your Dad’s face.

"We’ll go on another trip next year,“ he says in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Yeah, yeah,“ your Dad answers, glancing at his watch. "Better get going, or you’ll miss the flight.“

"We’ll be fine, Joel’s got a fast car,“ you argue, "A Bronco. That’s an SUV.“

Joel snorts.

***

Joel lets you take the window seat and plops down next to you, legs slightly spread so as to fit into the little space the two of you have. His leg nudges yours, and he pulls it back immediately, though you can see how uncomfortable it must be with his knees pressing into the seat in front of him. You move your legs towards the window with a glance at Joel, who looks grateful and is able to relax his muscles into a more comfortable position without invading your space.

"Thanks,“ he mutters, "Fucking hate flying.“

So do you, though not because you’re too big to fit into the space, and not because you’re afraid – mostly because it’s boring. Sure, takeoff is exciting, but you get nauseous from watching movies and the plane is much too loud to really enjoy your music the way you would lying on your bed at home. You could study, you suppose, but you tell yourself you wouldn’t be able to concentrate and kick your backpack further under your seat. Joel notices and chuckles.

"Finals, huh? You almost done with your degree?“

You can’t imagine him finding your boring university struggles interesting, but you’re not exactly fantastic at smalltalk, so you take the conversation he’s offering you.

"I’ve got one more year, but I’ve got to do a six month internship, and write my thesis, so yeah, this is, like, the last of my regular classes and exams.“

"You enjoy it?“

The question is strikingly honest, like he really wants to know, like it’s fine if you don’t. You look at him, his eyes already on your face, and for a second you think how handsome he is. You didn’t notice before, when he was just the owner of a bike you could conveniently borrow, when life was all skinned knees and staying up till sun-down. Now, he looks like an equal, like someone who wants to know about your life, someone you want to know about yourself. The change is a little unsettling, but thrilling. You realize you haven’t answered him, so you clear your throat.

"Sure, it’s alright. Not what I would have done if money didn’t matter, but it does, so…I can be content with it.“

Joel considers this, eyes still lingering on your face, as the plane starts speeding up for takeoff.

"What would you do if money didn’t matter?“

You shrug, and smile to yourself.

"Creative writing, maybe. Or English lit.“

"You always were the smart one in your family,“ Joel answers with a chuckle.

You glance at him, and feel a pang of something warm in your stomach as he compliments you. When the plane takes off, you look out of the window, but get the feeling Joel’s eyes keep looking at you. It makes your skin prickle, though not at all unpleasantly.

***

You get to the hotel when the sun is high in the sky, burning the top of your head and making you long for a shower and an ice-cold coke. Joel courteously carries your suitcase and although you don’t want to inconvenience him, you don’t mind the way his muscles bulge under the weight, arms straining against the navy shirt he had underneath his flannel. You wonder how he’s not suffocating in the heat, wearing his thick jeans and boots.

When you get to the front desk, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, searching for his reservation details with furrowed brows. You smile when you notice he uses two hands to scroll. It takes him a couple of minutes, cursing under his breath, and you smile at the lady, who smiles back, patiently waiting for Joel to find the right email.

"Sorry,“ you say to her, and try to catch a glimpse at Joel’s phone, so as to figure out what’s taking him so long. "Need some help?“

He throws you an offended look that makes you grin, and finally shows the lady his phone. She smiles, types something into her computer and gets out two room keys.

"Go easy on your Daddy, it’s easier when you grew up with the internet,“ she says, handing you each a keycard. You feel Joel stiffen beside you, and your stomach flutters.

"Here’s your keycards, you’re on the third floor. Enjoy your stay!“

"Thanks,“ Joel mumbles, taking the cards and handing them to you, before grabbing the two suitcases. He huffs, when you walk around a corner and towards the elevators.

"She was makin’ fun of me,“ he says accusingly when the lady is out of earshot, as if that would be your fault. You snort, all of a sudden feeling giddy at the prospect of being at the beach soon, your holiday only a couple of minutes away.

"I don’t think so, she was trying to help you by blaming your incompetence on your age,“ you say, Joel looking at you like he can’t believe what you said.

"Sorry.“ Your voice is quivering with amusement at how offended he is. "Daddy.“

That makes him clear his throat, and if your eyes aren’t playing a trick on you, his cheeks turn a shade darker. Bingo.

"Don’t say shit like that,“ Joel grumbles, "’M not that old.“

"How old are you, then?“

"Why?“, he asks, eyes meeting yours, and suddenly you’re the one blushing, your stomach swirling with something you definitely should not be feeling for your Dad’s best friend. Joel shakes his head. "Don’t start something neither of us can finish, kid.“

It’s just an offhand-comment about the way you jokingly flirted, but you feel all bashful all of a sudden. His mention of there being something to potentially start, the fact that the possibility even crossed his mind…when you look up at him again and watch him press a button on the elevator, you study the grey patches in his beard, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches as you’re waiting, his thick fingers drumming against the handle of his suitcase. It’s not what you expected to happen, but Joel’s got you intrigued.

***

You both agree to take a shower, get settled in and meet outside the rooms in half an hour – they’re neighboring, so it’s not far. You’re too lazy to properly unpack, so you just grab a bikini and a comfortable white sundress to change into after your shower. The water is welcome on your skin, washing away the grit and sweat of the hours spent on the plane, and you feel like a new person when you step out of the bathroom. You put on sandals and a pair of sunglasses, grab sunscreen, your books and notes for class, and a bottle of water, and throw it all into your beach bag, then head for the door. Joel is already waiting for you, leaning against the wall opposite your door wearing a different shirt, red swimming trunks and dark sunglasses. He’s got a towel thrown over his shoulder and you grin.

"Raw-dogging the beach?“, you ask, which makes him furrow his brows.

"The hell does that mean?“

You snort at his obvious annoyance at your innuendo.

"It means you’re only bringing a towel, nothing to entertain yourself with,“ you explain, gesturing towards your bag. Joel shakes his head, still frowning.

"I’m going to the beach, not the library,“ he answers, and starts walking towards the elevators, his flip-flops making their soft sound on the floor. Your gaze flickers down towards his legs, his swimming trunks revealing tan thighs.

"Comin’?“

You swallow, and catch up with him.

***

He’s fucking gorgeous. It’s a problem, how gorgeous he is, tan torso, swimming trunks low on his hips, bits of dark hair scattered across his chest and soft belly. His shoulders are wide, like they were made for swimming, his hair glistening as he shakes like a wet dog when he comes up for air. You have been staring at the same page for far too long now, but there’s no way Joel is able to notice your staring, not when you’re wearing your sunglasses and he’s busy swimming.

You know it’s a bad idea, that there’s no good that can come from crushing on a man twice your age, more than that, even. You know he must surely see the girl who came over to borrow his bike with tears of anger in her eyes every time he looks at you, and you know how much he respects your father.

Still, you are allowed to have fun. You’re doing this for your Dad more than anything, and you’ve been bending over backwards trying to make him proud with your good grades, so if there’s something you’re able to get out of this trip, you figure you’re at least allowed to look. And anyway, it’s not hurting anyone. It’s just natural, the half-naked bodies and blissful relaxation would affect anyone who has spent the last four months cramped up in a little dorm room.

You watch Joel swim towards the beach again, rising out of the water like some sort of Poseidon sent to personally make this trip unbearable for you. You think of his reaction when you teasingly called him Daddy, and swallow.

"Fuck,“ you mumble to yourself, when he tugs on his swimming trunks so that they don’t slide over his hips, dripping water onto the dry sand all around him. He smiles at you as he makes his way over to your spot – two deckchairs shielded by a parasol.

"Wow,“ Joel says sarcastically, when he looks at your book, still on page two. "Real page turner, huh?“

You blush, and open your mouth to defend yourself, but Joel’s expression softens, all biting humor gone, as he grabs his towel.

"You’re allowed to take a break from studying, you know?“

You watch him dry himself off, big hands rubbing the towel over his chest and stomach, leaving his legs to dry on their own, as he lays down on his deckchair.

"Easy to say, you’re not the one who has to face my Dad if you fail all your exams.“

Joel turns his head towards you, and you’re struck by how gentle his expression is.

"I know he can be a hard ass, but I guarantee you you’re not goin’ to fail all your exams, kid.“

You sigh and shrug.

"He give you a hard time ’cause of your grades?“

"No,“ you answer quickly, all of a sudden feeling defensive of your father. "I just wanna…make him proud.“

Joel smiles.

"I know for a fact you’re doin’ that without even tryin’. And anyway, it’s good to take breaks. Let’s your brain cool off and absorb information much better afterwards.“

Can’t argue with that logic, you think and close your book with a thud. Joel grabs it from you and throws it into your beach bag.

"I grant you two hours of studying each day,“ he says, and you have to laugh. "The rest is for having fun, gettin’ tan and drinkin’ cocktails."

It’s preposterous, that he would order you around like that after you told him you need to study, back before you even made it to the airport. But something is different here, away from your desk, and your Dad’s broken leg (and the rest of him, for that matter). Joel and you have fallen into an easy dynamic, and although it’s unusual, your reservations are gone. You’re actually looking forward to spending time with him, and not just because of the way his belly nudges against the waistband of his swimming trunks, or how his accent seems to thicken in the sun.

"Fine,“ you say, "but you’re paying for my tuition if I do end up failing, Miller.“

He grins at you.

[marvel-snape-writes]

hey i’m absolutely loving the snape oneshots, haven’t read him in a while and im in love again 🤭 anyhow would i be able to request a fluffy smut perhaps there’s been a couple of dates and this is their first time just like wine and lounging around and 😏

😭 thanks x

Was That a Smile, Severus?

Severus Snape x original female character smut

6.7k+ words 18+

The Great Hall was packed with students and teachers all gathered together for the Christmas feast, and the chatter within the room from both was beginning to merge together in one big mist of volume. Professor Snape exhaled slowly as he pushed around the food that was left on his plate, unsure of how much longer he could take the small talk or noise. It wasn't a secret that Severus wasn't exactly the most festive person in the world.

He heard the scraping of the legs from the chair at the side of him but paid it no mind, his eyes still lazily watching himself pushing his food about his plate.

“I don't know about you, but I'm really not fond of attending the party tonight.” A new, familiar voice spoke beside him.

“It would appear you are not alone in that.” Severus spoke without even turning to face her, almost frozen in his seat as his heartbeat sped up briefly.

“Not a massive fan of Christmas parties?” She asked, leaning a little closer to him.

“Not in the slightest.” Severus spoke emotionlessly, leaning back in his chair as his eyes remained fixed on the countless tables of students in front of them.

“Me neither, really.” The female professor shook her head, “If only the venue could be one of the pubs in Hogsmeade; we could just hide around the corner again and have the night to ourselves.”

“That sounds much more appealing.” Severus exhaled slowly, finally glancing over at her as his heart fluttered momentarily from the memory.

She crinkled her nose and brushed her hand over the back of his as she stood up, leaving him in his own thoughts as he watched her walking away. He didn't take his eyes off her until she was out of view, almost convinced that she had only paid him a brief visit to ensure that he would be thinking about her for the rest of the night.

The Christmas ball was more of a Christmas bore to Severus; never having or — previously — wanting to have a partner to dance with. He toyed with the idea of asking her to dance with him, given the success of their first two meetings and that last kiss… Oh, that kiss…

He stood to the side with Professor McGonagal and Professor Dumbledore, politely holding a hand up and shaking his head when they gestured for him to join them upon the dance floor. He never wanted to dance, but she caught his eye from the other side of the room. He had held her hand, sure, even hugged her, but that didn't stop him wondering how it would feel to hold her. Really hold her. Regardless of whether they were alone or in front of the whole school. People were dancing, singing, and chatting around him, but he paid none of it any mind; only she mattered. He scowled briefly when he saw another male Professor approach her and motion toward the dance floor, but his scowl quickly turned into a schoolboy smile when he watched her dismiss his offer. His entire body filled with warmth and he exhaled softly, his eyes not coming off her for even a moment.

“Was that a smile, Severus?” Professor Dumbledore’s voice spoke from the side of him.

Severus was shook out of his trance briefly and he blinked hard, turning to face Dumbledore with squinted eyes as a result of being caught off guard whilst admiring her from across the room.

“Was it?” There was a hint of playfulness in Dumbledore’s voice, “I think it was.”

“If it was, would it matter if I absent myself from… here?” Severus asked lowly, raising his eyebrows in hope.

“You do not need my permission to go as you please, Severus,” Dumbledore narrowed his eyebrows, “It’s Christmas.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Severus nodded politely, a smile forming on his lips from the kindness of Dumbledore’s before turning away.

His eyes found her immediately and he began to make his way across the room, avoiding the dancing people around him and walking toward her. The look on her face as he approached her filled his chest with warmth and he smiled nervously, taking a subtle breath.

“Bored yet?” She asked, raising her eyebrows playfully.

“Tremendously,” Severus sighed dramatically, looking either side of him before speaking again, “I was wondering, Miss Eleanor, if you would care to take a walk with me… outside in the grounds. Be my saving grace.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Eleanor crinkled her nose, smiling.

Severus pondered saying how grateful he was for now having the most beautiful excuse to escape how uncomfortable those events made him, but nerves were beginning to climb him again as he walked them both to the door. They glanced at each other several times once they were through the crowd of people and Severus found the smile on his face becoming more of a permanent fixture.

“Thank you for giving me an excuse to get out of there.” Eleanor half laughed.

“Not at all,” Severus cleared his throat, holding the door open for her to lead them both outside, “I was going to say the same to you, actually.”

“Where shall we go?” She looked up at him.

“Anywhere,” Severus shrugged, then suddenly backtracking, “Within reason, of course.”

“Meaning?” Eleanor squinted her eyes, still looking at him as they walked into the cold.

“Away from… prying eyes.” Severus looked around subtly but cautiously.

“Oh, Severus…” Eleanor rolled her eyes playfully and hooked her arm around his as they walked.

“H—Hm?” Severus raised his eyebrows, forcing his body to unstiffen and act natural once their arms were linked.

She shook her head and giggled to herself, squeezing his arm.

They didn't have a specific route or destination in mind, they just went wherever their feet took them. Moreover, it wasn't that Severus wasn't interested in what she had to say, or in making conversation himself, but more that he couldn't stop thinking about the last time they saw each other and the kiss they shared. He could have sworn he felt the ice around his heart melt the moment their lips touched. He longed for more, that in itself even shocking himself, but he daren't push his luck — not when she was becoming something he didn't want to mess up.

Eleanor’s hands gently massaged his bicep as they continued to walk, half in comfortable silence, half in small talk conversation; the one thing Severus was terribly bad at.

“You looked very pretty tonight.” Severus dared himself to say, often only remembering when it was too late that he quite often lacked in paying complements.

“Looked?” Eleanor gazed up at him, trying not to laugh.

“…yes?” Severus felt his breathing change in fear of having said something wrong, “Is that such a bad thing to say?”

“Well, what do I look like now?” Eleanor raised her eyebrows, now biting her lip as she fought off a laugh from his innocently confused expression.

“I’m sorry?” Severus tilted his head.

“Well, you said I looked very pretty tonight…” She gave his arm another gentle squeeze.

“Yes?” Severus nodded slowly, “You did.”

“Did?” She pursed her lips.

“Oh,” Severus’ eyes widened, “My apologies,” He felt his cheeks turn bright red, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” She crinkled her nose at his embarrassed face as she looked up at him, “Don't apologise, it was funny.”

“It wasn't meant to be funny, it was meant to be—” Severus protested softly before Eleanor cut him off:

“Severus.” She stopped them as they reached one of the stone archways.

“Yes—”

She leaned up to kiss him, and there it was again; that feeling inside when her lips touched his. His hands instinctively cupped her face and he tilted his head, taking a shaky breath against her lips. He felt her smile against him and place her hands against his chest, nudging her nose against his.

“Mm, hi.” She whispered against his lips, pausing briefly.

“Hi.” Severus let out a bashful schoolboy chuckle against her lips as he felt her take his hands and place them upon her hips, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss him again.

“This is already better than half the dancing in there.” She giggled, her hands now back against his chest again.

“Only half?” Severus arched a brow with a playful smile.

“Well, I didn't see you offering.” She winked, pushing him gently.

“Nor will you ever.” Severus chuckled, leaning down to peck her lips again.

“Oh, charming.” She responded with a teasingly offended expression.

“Wait, no, I didn't mea—”

“Shut up and kiss me, you fool,” Eleanor laughed, sliding her hands up to his shoulders as she leaned up on her tiptoes to press their lips back together.

Severus let out a shaky breath against her lips and advanced forward slightly, pushing her back against the stone archway. Eleanor squeezed his shoulders gently and then moved her hands up into his hair, playing with it as the kiss deepened. As stated previously, they had shared a kiss before, but not one like this. Even in its innocent, barely wandering hands state, this kiss was already more than the couple they had shared as they last bid each other goodnight.

“Would you like to come back to mine?” Confidence suddenly swelled in him.

“But, Severus,” She spoke in between kissing him again, “What if people see us both disappearing together?”

“I take full responsibility for the consequences.” Severus responded, grinning when he felt her gasp against his lips.

“Well, in that case, how could a girl refuse?” Eleanor crinkled her nose as the kiss broke, gazing up into his eyes.

Severus glanced over his shoulder to make sure the grounds were still clear before turning back to Eleanor and gesturing for her to walk with him again. Although Severus chose the most secluded route back to his chamber, he secretly longed for the day he would proudly walk through the crowds of Hogwarts arm in arm with her, showing her off for all to see.

“Take a seat,” Severus gestured to the sofa in the middle of the room and flicked his wand toward the open fire in front of it, setting the logs alight, “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you,” Eleanor crinkled her nose, sitting down and enjoying the warmth from the fire.

Severus’ heart was beating subtly but hard; he had never been with her in such a one-on-one setting. He was already worried about fumbling over his words, or getting ahead of himself — though, he would be the first to admit that it would be much more likely that he would completely miss any of her signals initiating anything more than a kiss.

The truth was that he had gone over this moment several times in his head, even down to the wine he was currently pouring into two glasses upon the counter.

“I really appreciated the way you turned the other Professor down when he asked you to dance…” He carefully carried the glasses over to the sofa, placing them both on the table in front of it.

“Oh, really?” Eleanor smiled softly, watching him, “Did I make it too obvious that my only interest and intentions lay with you?” She giggled.

“N-Not at all,” Severus shook his head, handing her, her glass, “It was just nice for you to… accompany me for a walk.”

“A walk in the grounds and wine?” Eleanor gazed up at him with a playful expression, “Who knew Severus Snape had it in him…”

“Do not take it for granted.” Severus attempted to flirt back, joining her on the sofa.

“To tell you the truth, Severus, I don’t take any of the time with you for granted.” She smiled softly, sipping at her glass of wine.

“R-Really?” Severus felt himself blushing, lifting his wine glass to his lips to try and cover it up.

“I think you know I do.” She spoke softly, placing one of her hands upon his knee.

“Well, I… enjoy spending time… with you, too.” Severus felt both like he wanted the ground to swallow him up from confessing this and relieved at the same time.

Eleanor didn't respond verbally straight away, just gently rubbed his knee with her hand. Severus exhaled as he swallowed the mouthful of wine and rested the glass against his thigh, looking toward the flickering fire as he tried not to focus too much on the feeling of her hand against him.

“Everything alright?” Eleanor asked as Severus lifted the glass back to his lips again.

“Yes, yes, sorry, I…” He swallowed hard, “I don't think I have ever admitted that before. Well, not to the extent of how I mean it… towards you.”

“Hey, look at me,” Eleanor reached out with one of her hands and cupped his cheek in it, turning his head toward her, “I know.”

“It's not very hard to see that Christmas isn’t a time you’re used to celebrating.” She gently caressed her thumb against his cheek.

“No,” Severus sighed, shaking his head, “I’ve never really had a reason to.”

“Not yet.” She grinned, gently clinking her wine glass against his.

Severus’ gaze fell to their glasses and then to her lips, finding himself smiling again.

“For people to say you dress like an overgrown bat, you certainly have a very cozy chamber.” She changed the conversation, not wanting him to become uncomfortable.

“People say that?” Severus asked in a tone that she had never heard before.

“Well, I just remind them that it's what's underneath the clothes that really matters.” She shrugged, smiling sweetly in fear of her previous complement of his chamber backfiring.

“Hm?” Severus leaned back into the sofa, “Well, if that’s the case, the mind boggles at what's under yours.”

“Professor Snape!” She scoffed playfully, “Is this you trying to flirt?” She moved slightly closer to him and spoke in a tone as if afraid they would be overheard, “Because, keep plying me with wine, and you might just find out.”

“O-Oh, no, please don't think that is what I meant o-or—” He swallowed hard, widening his eyes, “Or the reason for the wine, I just…”

“You know, you’re making me wonder whether I enjoy kissing you because I want to,” She placed her wine glass down, “Or whether to just shut you up.”

“Either suits me,” Severus spoke lowly, their eyes meeting as their heads turned to face one another properly.

Within a matter of seconds their lips pressed against each other again and Severus’ body froze from the pure want of it. He kissed her back immediately and tilted his head, allowing her to reach for his hand and place it against her waist as the kiss deepened even further than the one against the stone arch. Severus’ inexperienced hand lightly caressed her waist from over her dress and he sighed softly into the kiss, parting his lips as her tongue teased between them. He wasn't entirely sure what move to make next; what was too much, what was too subtle, what was… right.

“How about we see if what’s underneath really does matter, hm?” Eleanor spoke softly against his lips, playing with one of the buttons on his clothing, “Would that be okay?”

Severus nodded, unsure of his own name at this point. Eleanor began to unbutton his clothing and he dared to lightly pull at her dress with his trembling fingers. To be wanted like this was so foreign to him, he didn't want to put a single foot wrong. In fact, to be wanted at all was not something he had often experienced in his life.

He gently bit down on her lip and pulled it out a bit, enjoying the noise she made whilst doing so. His buttons popped open with ease and, despite how self conscious he usually was, he willingly sat up so she could push his overcoat and shirt off him, breaking the kiss briefly to glance down at his now bare chest.

“It's okay,” She spoke softly when she felt him lightly grasp at the material of her dress again, “My clothing comes off, too.”

“Can I… see?” Severus swallowed hard, half expecting a slap across the face.

Eleanor nodded and stood up, reaching out for him with both of her hands. Severus took them and stood up, watching closely as she guided one of his hands to the zip on the back of her dress and turned around. Severus grasped the small metal zip between his finger and thumb and took a deep breath before starting to unzip the back of her dress. His eyes widened with each bit of skin that was revealing itself to him and silently thanked her for not facing him so she couldn't see quite how red his face was becoming.

“Easy, right?” She giggled once the zip was at the bottom.

“R-Right…” Severus nodded shakily, only able to watch in awe as it fell off her shoulders and pooled to the floor as she turned back around to face him whilst unclasping her bra.

He blinked hard, mesmerised by the image in front of him and felt his confidence swell again, leaning forward to desperately press their lips together. Eleanor’s arms snaked around his neck and she leaned up on her tiptoes, kissing him back immediately and pressing her breasts against his chest; resulting in something other than his confidence beginning to swell.

“Mm, Professor…” She grinned when he nudged himself forward slightly, “I do hope that is your wand.”

Severus made a soft noise against her lips when she brushed her body forward, lightly scratching the nape of his neck with her fingers. Their tongues tangled and Severus ran his inexperienced fingertips back and forth over her bare skin. One of Eleanor’s hands trailed down Severus’ bare chest and stomach, making Severus shiver from the feeling of it. Whilst his hands lightly massaged her skin, Eleanor’s made quick work of the button on his trousers; popping it open and pulling down the zip. As his trousers hit the floor, she lightly nudged her palm against the bulge in the front of his boxers, earning a soft moan from him.

“C—Careful…” Severus swallowed hard, taking a shaky breath against her lips, “I…”

“Even bigger than I expected,” Eleanor licked his bottom lip, lightly grasping his erection from over his underwear as the kiss deepened.

“Fuck…” Severus spoke practically inaudibly and felt himself going dizzy, urging for her to rid him of his underwear completely.

She dipped her hand inside his boxers and wrapped it around him, gently jerking her fist up and down as he continued to groan against her lips, his hands now on her underwear and lightly flexing the waistband of it as she continued to taunt him. To be touched like this was something he didn't even dream about, he was that convinced it would never happen to him. His jaw clenched and wanted to sit back and enjoy the feeling, but he also wanted to stress his urgency of long pent up release.

“Oh, you want them off, too?” She smirked when she felt him pull the waistband of her underwear away from her skin completely.

“Mmmh, yes,” Severus breathed heavily, feeling his length pulsate both from the feeling of her fist still stroking him and the question she had just asked.

“What the Professor wants, the Professor gets,” She pulled back from the kiss slowly, glancing down between them both and then back up at him, “If you do the same.”

Severus nodded, barely even able to believe that he was about to do this. Never had he ever allowed himself to be this vulnerable in front of someone.

Soon enough, both pairs of underwear were on the floor, and they both stood there in the nude. For the first time - first time in his life, from memory - he was unashamedly stood completely vulnerable in the nude. He didn't even like seeing himself naked, let alone someone else seeing him. Something about her made him feel shamelessly confident.

“Your wand or not, it certainly looks like it’s capable of creating its own form of magic.” She licked her lips, gazing upon his hardened cock standing proudly to attention.

They hadn't even done anything and Severus’ chest was already heaving up and down. His eyes couldn't quite believe what he could see in front of him. He was in a trance so much that anything she said was just a murmur. Eleanor placed her hands upon his shoulders and gently pushed him back down onto the sofa, licking her lips as her eyes feasted on his large length now casting an impressive shadow over his lower stomach. Severus’ eyes trailed all the way up her naked body until their eyes met and he swallowed hard, watching as she began to climb over him.

“Mm, hi again,” She nudged her lips against his, taking his hands and placing them against her waist.

“H-Hi…” Severus whimpered when he felt her reach down to carefully position his length.

Their lips smacked together as the two of them slotted together like a surprisingly easy jigsaw. Eleanor, able to feel the roaring fire behind her, stayed still for a few moments, allowing herself to adjust to the impressive length now situated inside her.

“Everything okay?” She whispered softly, pecking his lips as she raised her hips slightly.

“Quite perfect,” Severus nodded, gazing up at her with heavy eyes.

“Remember where your hands are,” She lightly patted them as they remained over her hips, “You’re in control,” She kissed him again, “I’m all yours.”

Severus nodded weakly and remained with his hands against her hips as she began to move over him, her own hands now back against his shoulders as he kissed her hungrily. He whimpered softly at the feeing of her gliding back and forth over him with ease and began to moan each time she sat over him fully.

Severus could not put into words how he felt in this exact moment. He had enjoyed the times they had shared together, sure, or the dates as she called them, but he never in a million years expected for them to end up like this. Despite not being involved with anyone sexually, he wasn’t completely blind to what turned him on and what didn’t. However, the undeniable, nonjudgmental want she had for him was what drove him wild the most.

Their teeth collided as they kissed and Eleanor bunched his hair up in her hands, moaning into his mouth as she moved over him. Severus let out a heavy grunt when he began to lift and lower her with his hands, urging her to move even faster.

“Mm, you like that?” Eleanor broke the kiss and gazed down at him with heavy eyes, biting her lip as she started grinding her hips forward at the same time.

“Ugh, fuck, yes,” He nodded, his mouth hanging open as he rested his head back against the back of the sofa.

“So- fucking- big…” She spoke as she lowered herself over him, latching her lips onto his neck and sucking on it gently.

Severus’ hands moved from her hips to her back, creating red marks from how much their bodies were writhing against each other and how desperate he was to keep hold of her. He hissed in pleasure through clenched teeth when he felt her flicking her tongue against the sensitive red mark now upon his neck.

He was feeling a very unfamiliar flame beginning to climb up his body, both intrigued and afraid of what would happen if it was taunted further. His thighs tensed and his cock throbbed with desperate need of Eleanor’s movements to never stop. The way she moved over him and moans she breathed against his skin told him she was feeling quite the same, only turning him on all the more.

“I— I think something is about… t-to happen…” He whimpered, now trembling beneath her.

“Yes?” Eleanor gasped in pleasure, “Yes!” She took one of his hands and placed it between her legs, guiding him to exactly where she wanted him to touch her.

“Wh.. What are…” He swallowed hard, the flames now licking further up his body.

“Make me cum, Severus,” She whispered against his lips, moaning as he began to move his fingertips in circular motions.

“B—But you’re going to make me-!” He shouted in pleasure, his back starting to arch off the sofa.

“Y—Yes, Professor, l-like-! That!” She cried, her eyes rolling back at the feeling of both his length repeatedly sliding in and out of her and his shockingly skilled fingers.

“Eleanor!” He felt her tighten around him, unable to hold back for even a moment longer as the blaze of ecstasy took over him completely, “Eleanor!”

His hot release shot inside her, the both of them emitting echoing moans which bounced against his chamber walls. The fire was still roaring against her back, resulting in even more glistening sweat on their bodies and the smell of sex radiating off them. The movements didn't die down for a long while, still grasping at each other’s naked bodies as they continued to quite literally ride out their orgasms.

“Severus…” Eleanor breathed out her words, resting her forehead against his shoulder as they both tried to catch their breath.

“W—Was that…” Severus swallowed hard, his arms yearning to be wrapped around her again but feeling physically too exhausted to do so, “Was that okay?”

“Okay?” Eleanor lifted her head and reached for their glasses of wine, handing Severus’ to him, “That was everything, Severus,” She took a sip, enjoying the feeling of his chest still raising and falling against her as he did the same, “I have never known anything to be so worth the wait.”

Severus would be lying if he said he had never felt passion or desire before in his life, but he could count on one hand how many times he had acted upon it. It was unknown for him to even allow himself to think about taking matters into his own hands, let alone become completely vulnerable to another person.

He wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened to him, but all he knew was that he wanted to do it again, and again, and again. And they did. With only sips of wine between, they had their way with each other on the sofa a second time; though this time with Severus’ weight on top of her. Eleanor devoured the view as he towered over her whilst he devoured her.

Tumbling into his bedroom was the next location — albeit to fall asleep, but that soon developing into a literal tumble in the sheets. He didn't even know where his energy had suddenly come from, he could only pin point the fact she had made him feel like he had found a new lease of life. When he awoke this morning, he had no idea this is how he would be going to bed tonight.

“You know, we’re going to have to stop this.” Eleanor breathed out her words as she rolled off him.

“Hm, what?” Severus stretched his arms above his head before rolling onto his side and gazing down at her with his head propped up on his hand, “Why?”

“Because then I'll want to go to sleep like this every night.” She giggled, lightly tracing a pattern against his bicep with her finger.

“If you so wish…” He pursed his lips, glancing at her finger and then her, “You can.”

“Mm,” She leaned in to peck his pursed lips, “I have corrupted Severus Snape.”

“You have,” He nodded, sighing dramatically, “And you’ll pay for it!”

Eleanor opened her mouth to respond but quickly turned into a fit of giggles as Severus quickly wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her gently as she wriggled in his grip. He couldn't remember a time he had ever made someone laugh like this, and, even more to the point, he couldn't remember a time where he laughed like this.

Eleanor turned around with her back to him and settled back into his arms against his body. Severus planted soft kisses along her shoulder and sighed softly, his eyes closing in content.

“I am just satisfied to know that I have made you, of all people, smile on Christmas Day,” She spoke softly, able to feel his smile against her skin once more, “It can always be like this, you know. Never spend it alone again.”

“You are not just a reason to look forward to Christmas, dear Miss Eleanor,” His lips made it to her neck, now whispering into her ear, “You are my reason to look forward to every day.”

“Well, this can be your every day, too…” She spoke timidly, placing her hands over his that were wrapped around her waist from behind.

“I would really like that, actually,” Severus replied quicker than he even anticipated, raising his eyebrows when Eleanor turned her head, kissing him with a grin, “Really like it.”

Eleanor crinkled her nose as they kissed, gently nudging their noses together before turning back around again and snuggling back into his embrace. Severus sighed softly and closed his eyes, resting his lips against the back of her shoulder again and allowing her to feel a new, all-too-familiar prod against her back as she gasped and whispered into the darkness with a grin;

“Again?”

—

Thank you SO much for reading! I hope all of those celebrating have a fabulous Christmas and that everyone has a fabulous day 😊🎅🏼🎄🎁

Tags! ❤️

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[uncannydevotion]

“ we haven't found one lipstick that's kiss proof! ”

a/n: based on tht one art meme going around iykyk anyways happy holidays, and merry christmas if u celebrate! nd happy day to everyone else! enjoy this lil gift <3 i wanted to get it out today so it might b a little rushed, and definitely shorter than i would like but i still like it so. i'm posting it.

includes: homicidal liu, eyeless jack, jason the toymaker, nina the killer, and jeff the killer.

warnings: gn!reader but it's assumed u wear lipstick, italics my beloved, so much fluff it'll make u sick, lots of kissing. is kiss even a word anymore. it's short, with varying different lengths, and it's sweet this time for real i promise.

HOMICIDAL LIU

Perhaps a bit confused when you ask him to help find some kiss proof lipsticks, but nonetheless willing to help. He just assumes you wanted to go out to a cosmetic store or something to find some.

He's very confused when you drag him over to the couch and tell him to stay put while you gather every tube of lipstick you have.

He's oblivious guys okay you're his first relationship ever how is he supposed to know you're about to smother him to death with kisses?

Liu will be a bit caught off guard when you place the first kiss on his cheek, your lips gentle, mindful of the sensitive skin surrounding his scars.

"What was that for?" He'll ask. And maybe you'll give a cheeky smile and respond with something like, "I'm just testing out my lipstick, babe."

And oh. Oh. That's what you meant when you said you wanted his help.

Liu is nothing if not the greatest boyfriend haver, so even though he gets increasingly more flustered with each kiss you press against his skin, he stays painfully still so as to not interrupt you.

Every time you pressed a kiss against his skin, he'd let out a little sigh. It was rare for him to ever really feel at ease, but it came easy with you.

Sometimes, he wonders if you truly understood the gravity of the love he felt for you.

Each kiss makes his heart race faster and faster, so much so that when you place one last kiss against his lips, he's so overwhelmed by the amount of love he holds for you that Sully thinks he's fucking dying and takes over.

Sully is very confused when he finds that Liu was, in fact, not dying. And you're certainly no help, just smiling and telling him to wash his face off as you clean up.

What.

One look in the mirror gives him the answer he was looking for. His entire face was covered in lipstick stains. This is what had Liu's heart racing so much? Sully really thought he was dying, man.

Turns out the guy is just an idiot in love.

EYELESS JACK

One of the only ones here to really understand what you meant when you asked him for help in finding a kiss proof lipstick, already taking his mask off.

He didn't have anything better to do, and he liked how your eyes lit up when he agreed, so.

He'll sit patiently, watching as you set out all of your lipsticks, setting them out in a color-coded pattern.

Jack will take this very seriously, I think. You won't really be able to get him flustered, because he's determined to figure out if you have any kiss proof lipstick. He's a man on a mission.

Every time you kiss him, he'll pull away from you and look at himself in a mirror to study how visible the stain is. The less he can see it, the better he thinks the lipstick is.

If anything, he'll end up flustering you from the way he'll grab your cheeks and press his thumb against your lip, rubbing the lipstick gently to see how much pressure it takes for it to transfer.

He's not doing this on purpose, he just... doesn't realize the effect he has on you. But between you and me, he's 100% teasing you.

He's the one covered in kisses, and yet you're the one shying away from him and getting all embarrassed. Seems your plan to fluster him backfired.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" You would ask.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. You're the one who asked for help." Would be his response.

Somehow you end up with more marks on your skin than he does?? Since you get to kiss him a bunch, he doesn't see why he can't kiss you back. And maybe he bites a lil, idk.

This will either end with you scurrying away, or with him pouncing you and abandoning the lipstick. Make your choice.

JASON THE TOYMAKER

He's busy tinkering with a new creation when you enter his workshop carrying every single lipstick you own.

He's too focused on his own work to really pay attention to you, so he just mutters a vague 'yeah' when he hears you ask a question, not really catching anything you said.

Jason's only vaguely aware that you're in the same room as him as he leans forward, brows pinched together as he focuses on stitching up a small stuffed animal.

It's not until he feels you resting your hand on his shoulder, pulling him back slightly and pressing a kiss against his cheek that he's brought to reality.

Just sits there, confused for the longest second, his hand coming up to his cheek where he had felt your lips. He's not against the sudden affection by any means, he's just a bit curious as to why you were suddenly giving him so many kisses.

When you explain how you're trying to find kiss proof lipstick, he lets out a small 'oh' and he goes back to his work.

Or, at least, he tries to get back to his work.

But you continue placing little kisses against his skin every few minutes, and it's making it really hard to focus, and he can feel his face getting hotter and hotter the longer this goes on.

Jason fucking loves you, okay? He tells you it multiple times a day. You are the one for him. So you smothering him with a bunch of kisses has him feeling all soft and gooey inside.

Whatever the hell he was working on before was no longer important to him, his gaze now seemingly glued to you and every little move you make as he leans back in his chair, basking in your attention.

Like hell he'll let you leave when you run out of lipstick.

You doomed yourself the moment you walked into his workshop to even start this little game.

He'll be dragging you down onto his lap and will refuse to let you go until he's had his fill of you. Which could be like... all day. Jason could never get tired of you.

NINA THE KILLER

Hell yeah!! She's been meaning to go through her lipsticks too, so she takes this as an opportunity to do that.

She definitely makes it into a game as well, I think.

You two will trade lipsticks without looking at the labels, and you'd both have to guess who was wearing what lipstick based on the shade and the feel.

The two of you trade kisses, lipstick stains covering her cheeks and your jaw and neck.

She really did just want to find a kiss proof lipstick, but each kiss had her letting out a small giggle.

And she knew you were teasing her, always leaning in for her lips before dodging and pressing another kiss against her cheek.

All that teasing had her feeling flustered, and she just wanted you to stop messing around and kiss her lips already. So when you put on a new thing of lipstick, she doesn't even give you a chance to do anything before she's pulling you closer and slamming her lips against yours.

You probably planned for this to happen, she thinks, but she didn't really care much.

You don't need an excuse to kiss her silly, you just gotta do it.

And when the two of you finally break the kiss, you're both breathless. Lipstick stains your skin, and both of your lips were smeared.

Nina didn't even care about the little game you two had been playing anymore, her hands resting on your cheeks.

She thought you looked stunning like this.

And it's not like you two had any pressing matters to attend to, so she didn't hesitate before leaning in for another kiss.

JEFF THE KILLER

When you had asked him for help with finding a 'kiss proof' lipstick, he honestly didn't understand why. Like... did you want him to put the lipstick on and kiss napkins with you? And why would you need his help doing that anyways?

He would've said no, if you hadn't asked really nicely.

Definitely grumbling about how dumb he thought this was as you get everything together.

Someone would probably assume you had a gun to his head or something from the way he looked as if he didn't want to be there, arms crossed and somehow frowning even though his scars made it look strange.

It really isn't until you place the first kiss against his cheek that he finally shuts up.

Oh. So this is what you had planned?

Truth be told, Jeff wasn't that big a fan of affection unless he was initiating it, but... he supposes he could let it slide, just this once. Especially after you press another kiss to his cheek.

You could never get this man to admit that he's enjoying this, but it's not like he was doing a good job at hiding it, either.

The frown he had was gone, replaced by a smile he was barely able to conceal. Do not point out the smile, he will leave the room if you do.

Each kiss you give him makes his heart race faster and faster, and when you're wiping off the last lipstick you have, talking about how you've yet to find a kiss proof one, Jeff is an utter mess.

He's got his face buried in his hands, cursing to himself for being so weak when it came to you.

Fuck, he really loves you.

[green-square-anon]

Two things about your primarch daughter posts just to not spam you.

I know you said he tries and all that. But it's so hard not to feel enraged at Dorn. There's being emotionally inept and then there's not trying. He reads like someone who dosen't TRY. He would have seen something. The kind of parent who never tells his child he loves them or he's proud of them? not sure what parental books he would find that didn't mention that and even then he would have to twist the words so hard to mean "actually I should just feed and clothe her, she'll know". I mean a parent child relationship where the CHILD "gives more than she recieves"? I want to slap him. It's the same feeling I get reading those reader or oc inserts where he's emotionally unavailble to his partner and I don't know if you've seen it since it mostly floats around 4chan spaces and 1d4/1d6chan. But that copypasta where someone talks about how others find Dorn boring but to them he's like that quiet family man at work who dosen't engage in watercooler talk and kinda opens up to his sons and I'm just wondering "wtf is his relationship with the mother" since she's never mentioned. Only with someone emotionally neglecting a child instead of a partner it is much worse. With partners I'm just thinking "leave his ass".

Thankfully I don't think he's THAT bad in canon and the fandom has flandarized him a bit. This is the same man who called Sigismund his "most beloved son" and lined the insides of his armor with fur to never forget the humanity of his grandfather or something along those lines.

On the other hand there's this bit in Echoes of Eternity before Sanguinius dies:

Dorn didn’t know what to say, when nothing seemed worth saying. He was not made for exchanges like these. Many thought him cold in these moments, even heartless, but he was neither. It was purely that defeat was alien to him, as was the quality of emotion shining in Sanguinius’ gaze. What was worth saying when no words were necessary? What did one say to a brother you barely knew, who had nevertheless fought beside you from the beginning to the end? Sanguinius had the answer without even needing to consider the question. ‘Farewell, Rogal.’ The Angel rose to his feet, and the holo tracked upward with him. ‘If we do not meet again in the flesh, know that it was an honour, being your brother.’ The Praetorian nodded to the Angel, wanting the right words, searching for them, and not finding them. The silence stretched out. It dragged. Sanguinius smiled, knowing. The hololith blinked away.

(For the people who like primarch x primarch I thinks there's great potential in Dorn having unrequited feelings for Sanguinius but that's a tangent). Yeah the man is emotionally constipated but he does TRY and in the time as well as the responsibility that comes with parenthood I think, can nearly garentee he would have expressed himself (side note but how the hell did he even get laid if he was this cold?)

Konrad. I know you most likely just didn't consider this (god that sounded unintentionally dickish, not like that, just that you mentioned not having considered the mother before) but I am a little gremlin for "LORE". What about handing the kid of to the mom instead of Vulkan unless mommy met some tragic end? In my oc verse (I'm not bringing that up to enforce lore, I'm saying this because these ideas are free for anyone who wants to build of of them) I intentionally made it so that Konrads waifu came from a family that was both large and tightnit (and relatively wealthy) so that even if Konrad went AWOL or just needed help there WAS that support network of uncles/aunts and grandparents to help. Even if the emotional support network on the fathers side was…. litterally noone. Or perhaps Konrad decided their must be primarch/astartes level protection, which would be smart, and didn't trust himself so "Primarch, but not me" was (to him) the best solution? That would be interesting as hell as a concept.

Primarchs + Daughters (2)

Finally finished the damn part two. Been kinda busy here and there with my new job but lo and behold, the one yall asked for. Soon enough, yall find out why it took me a while writing this one for the two main guys I had to add here.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Konrad Curze

A’right, I’ll open this one with the fact we all know that this man shouldn’t even be legally allowed to have children. I’m gonna be real for a hot second and admit that I stared at the screen for HOURS not knowing what to write because any poor little girl that is born from this guy will have the dubious privilege of being the most sheltered and hidden secret the Primarch ever kept close. With all those visions of death and inevitable doom mixed with the sudden power rush that fatherhood gave him, it left in its wake a perfect storm for this lunatic to develop a paranoid and obsessive need (NEED) to keep his daughter safe; something hard to achieve when he already knows the essence of his Legion. His fatalistic nature regarding his own future would suddenly clash violently with the Primarch’s new found protective stance concerning his child. It's almost sad to consider that this poor man GENUINELY wished to avoid becoming the monster his visions showed, but knowing that he’ll be balancing in the thin line of one day hurting his precious girl (or worse than that) it'll put him in the hard decision of having to let go of her eventually. He is no Perturabo, for that matter. In the rare and far away moments of lucidity, I can see Konrad choosing to protect the innocence and life of his child by trusting in the last person ANYONE might expect the Night Hunter would seek help: Vulkan. Honestly this is just plain sad, man.

Sanguinius

This is it! The golden boy, yall! We all know the kind of person Sanguinius is, but add a precious little daughter in the equation and all you get is the perfect example of textbook girl dad. No matter how busy this man is, somehow he’ll squish some playtime with his baby and enjoy every bit of it. Seriously, this guy acting like a dedicated father is worth being in a stockphoto image. His baby girl asks him to play tea party? Some astartes will find their Primarch hunched over, awkwardly holding a comically small cup between his thumb and index while his precious princess pretends to pour more tea for herself. The daughter of Sanguinius doesn't go a single day without knowing that her papa loves her a lot and when the man isn’t around, the Blood Angels Legion are close to keep her company to the point that even she calls them ‘big brothers’. No one is safe when she wants to play dress-up. The single problem I see with Sanguinius when raising his little girl is that he sins of being completely oblivious to the more mortal side of his daughter’s needs. He easily gets so wrapped up in his role of The Perfect Angel that he doesn’t realize his tiny princess has boundaries that are being constantly crossed, but since she feels the need to prove that she can be like her father, endures all those problems and refuses to seek help about anything. It becomes a kind of toxic mix considering how much Sanguinius is loved and adored by others, to the point that his daughter becomes like a coveted gem too by relation, making her need to prove her own ‘perfection’ an unconscious action the older she grows. I’m not even gonna touch with a ten feet pole the “fun fact” called the Red Thirst on this one because, let's be fair, that would require for me to write more than 3 pages with ONLY Sanguinius and his daughter in the spotlight and that’s only assuming his baby girl didn’t inherit it. I specialized in visual arts and marketing, not psychology jfc.

Ferrus Manus

It took me a while but after some investigating and more reading I can safely put this man in between the Papa-tier and ‘tough love’ guys. His practical mentality and belief of the strongest are (oddly enough) healthily separated from his parenting skills. This is one of the few Primarch that can see their daughter as an individual of their own and makes sure to be as present as possible in her life but the loyalty of this man to the Emperor is his own flaw. Not in the case that he’ll choose the Imperium before his little girl, but because it’ll put him in the dreading and guilty notion that he’ll always prioritize his daughter despite his oath to serve for the Great Crusade. Most of his brothers (except maybe Jaghatai and Konrad) just assume or don’t even think about the long term future of their daughters or simply presume that they will become a great part of the Imperium’s well oiled structure. Not exactly their fault since they never grew up with anything resembling normal. On the brighter and wholesome side (whiplash change!), this is a man who finds handmade gifts more meaningful and always makes sure to explain the reason behind them mostly out of the enjoyment of watching his little princess look so amazed at her papa’s skills. More often than not, Ferrus’ belief of the strongest would falter a little as he perceives the true fragile nature of his daughter and, even if she share the resilient blood of a Primarch, that isn’t enough to convince him that she isn’t vulnerable but instead of letting the worry fester, he’ll try to teach the girl the art of fighting. That’s where the ‘tough love’ kind of guy I mentioned comes out to light. He will not spare kind words during those moments of teaching, as he wishes for his princess to prevail any difficulty but he’ll make sure to always end any sort of training with “I love you so much that the idea of one day not being there to protect you, pains me beyond any form” to make sure that his harsh actions have a reason behind. Honestly, it's the kind of father-daughter relationship that possesses so many shades that makes its own drama novel. Good thing that uncle Fulgrim is always there to smooth the hard edges that may come in the future and makes up for the lack of spoiling the little girl deserves. Ferrus is not amused by it. Forgot to mention that the Primarch will be even more motivated to take off the metal of his hands, for he has yet to truly feel the warm and soft flesh of his baby’s hand. It's the one feeling he keeps missing and craves so much.

Angron

Oh man, another of the hard ones. Okay, if I managed with Konrad, I can tackle this bitch too. You need to comprehend that we are talking about a guy that has been so intimate with the meaning of pain that it's amazing he’ll be capable of ranging through other emotions that don’t involve fury into that combo too. That being said, this whole shitshow of being the father of a young girl can only be described as sad AND tragic. First off, Angron’s daughter wouldn’t even be allowed to leave her chambers at The Conqueror for obvious safety reasons and having her stay on Terra can’t be an option too, as Angron would rather be death than leave in a silver plate this one single pittance of good he helped to create under the light of the Emperor. That being said, any little girl born from Angron would be terribly isolated and one can’t even blame the Primarch for that as he, despite his disposition, finds his daughter as a genuine reflection of what he could never ever dream to have or be. That sometimes results in him feeling short and spontaneous moments of anger from the impotence of not being able to be close to his daughter, let alone console her with anything resembling compassion. This is a man that is horribly aware that he’s away from one sharp stab of the Nails to his brain to end up killing his little girl in one single swat of his hand. The moments of anything resembling fatherly love are few and very tense, for Angron has to constantly be focused on not letting the pain control his actions and that always looks as if he’s dismissing his child’s love language or actions. What else can I say that most people don’t know already? This is just a sad story waiting to end in tragedy and had it not been for how Sanguinius ended during the heresy, I can see The Great Angel taking Angron’s daughter under his care as the only consolation and promise to his corrupted brother before his demise. After becoming a Daemon Prince, Angron’s only genuine and foggy memory of his little girl is her crying while calling him with heavy despair. Goddamn I almost tear up with this one.

Roboute Guilliman

Look at my big nerd! One of the few guys that actually is humble enough to feel more human than any of his brothers… sometimes. I gotta say it, Roboute has the vibe of what happens when someone incredibly autistic suddenly becomes a parent; expect lots of books to try and be prepared for what entails to take care of a mortal baby. He’ll have a wholeass strict routine of activities and diets that you AND the baby must follow to ensure both of your health along with “fun facts” regarding a toddler’s development that half of the time lack the keyword ‘fun’ in there. Honestly, Euten will be a BLESSING sent, for she’ll be the one railing back the most extreme attempts of her adoptive son to try and raise his little princess like she was just another task of paperwork. Over all his quirks, the Primarch of the Ultramarines is absolutely trying his hardest to be a good father just as the one that raised him, but this is a man that half of the time ends up clumsily trying to spend time with his little girl only for it to backfire as he simply doesn’t understand how to entertain his daughter. Good thing the child will simply be happy to spend time with her papa despite his weird personality. More often than not, some of the astartes will see the young lady at her father’s chambers in a little booster chair beside him, doodling on some papers to pretend that she’s a big girl helping her papa with his very important job. It's probably the most adorable sight anyone can ever get the chance to see. Just like most of his brothers, Roboute isn’t that good at expressing his love towards his daughter with words, so he simply let his little princess be on his lap and hug her as if it will be the last time.

Mortarion

I’ve written enough of this man being a father that you all can get a wild idea of how he will be when confronted with parenthood. Even if he believes himself to be undeserving of anything resembling happiness thanks to his perception of being nothing but a tool of the Emperor, this guy will only need to see his precious little flower and feel like everything in the world can be forgotten, including his ever festering negative emotions. His daughter is the single light of love that he selfilish believes is his right after such torturous upbringing although that mentality rarely affects his princess, as he simply shows nothing but care and tenderness towards her. He may be a nervous trainwreck, fully aware that his Legion and himself aren’t exactly safe-hazardous, but that never has stopped him from doing his utmost best to protect the little girl from anything that may hurt her. Like most of his traitorous brothers, Mortarion would not hesitate to bring entire worlds into devastation if it meant that his family can be safe, even if that’ll end up making a terrible gap to grow between him and those he loves. It's quite terrible and sad to know that, unlike Fulgrim or Angron, Mortarion was the closest to his daughter and showered her with as much genuine love as he could in an attempt to avoid being anything like his supposed father (adopted or creator equally), so when he turned into a Daemon Prince, the festering and rotting resentment that consumes him sometimes simmers down when he remembers the laugh of joy his little princess often released when he would carry her up in his arms. Oh yes, some good ol’ gut-wrenching emotional damage, teehee.

I will not apologize for being a mean bitch by writing sad shit. XOXO

[ravencromwell]

Rereading Dickens Christmas Carol for the first time in a long time. And the more I reread, the more it strikes me how seamlessly a queer reading could slip within these pages. Not an especially twee reading, wherein all Scrooge's troubles start and end with grief over Jacob Marley's death. For we know that Scrooge was a "Tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner!" And we know that he and Marley were "two kindred spirits"

And perhaps that very fact makes the similarities to queer life, unintended as they most likely were by Mr. Dickens, achingly poignant to me. Scrooge is, we're told, "secret and self-contained and solitary as an oyster." How much that resonates, for so many of us who shield our innermost selves but from a select group of friends. And we know that Scrooge and Marley were, at the very least, certainly that for one another. Scrooge is Marley's sole mourner; his sole executor and beneficiary; and even Dickens notes, "friend." How reminiscent is that of queer couples across history, estranged from their families?

Scrooge lives in a set of chambers that once belonged to Marley—clearly Dickens wanted us to believe Scrooge gave up his own dwellings after Marley's death to economize. But with only a flicker of change, those chambers become _their chambers, rented by Marley as the senior member of the couple. The place is so desolate Dickens notes "one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses, and have forgotten the way out again." The perfect abode for two queer misers who wanted no one prying into their business.

Marley's name is still above the door of Scrooge's counting-house: a mark by which, no doubt, Dickens meant to convey Scrooge such a penny-pincher he couldn't bother to have it changed. But a thing can be both! mark of frugality to ludicrous excess and! mark of mourning. "sometimes," Dickens opines, "People new to the

business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names. It was all the same to him."

This is why "death of the author" matters so much, in expanding our interpretations of texts. It is vastly far from the lens Dickens would have intended. But, the idea of a ghost of queerness, so taboo in the society it could barely be glanced at sidewise in this tale that is all about the inexplicable and yet that lingers over everything becomes an astonishing lens through which to read this book. Thinking of Scrooge as a queer man, his "melancholy dinner at his usual melancholy tavern" becomes a eerie prefiguring of the hollowness of days spent by Isherwood's A Single Man. In this universe, little wonder Scrooge doubly hates mention of time with family, marriage, etc. when the precise nature of his grief is both unacknowledged and unacknowledgable.

And readings like this are vital, because the uncomfortable truth is, discrimination doesn't "discriminate between sinners and saints", to borrow a Miranda phrase. It is easy, in my liberal circles, to fight for queer people who hold "the good sorts of politics". But what about men like Michael Hess, culpable for supporting Reagan even as his contemptuous homophobia let the aids epidemic run rampant? How much harder is it to remember Michael had a partner? That he deserves empathy and compassion for being practically tarred and feathered out of the party upon his own aids diagnosis?

Expanding our imaginative universes to include queerness, not as redemptive panacea, but merely as one aspect of identity, personality, often in vicious conflict with others. Even! as we consider those stories equally worthy of being told feels vital if we're ever to truly express the complexity of what queer humanity looks like.

[twooftheluckyones]

How The One Who Waits Stole Christmas

Everyone up above sure liked Christmas a lot… But Narinder, Who was chained down below, Did NOT! Narinder hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season! Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason. It could be his third eye wasn't set in just right. It could be, perhaps, that his chains were too tight. But I think that the most likely reason of all, May have been that his heart was dead, shriveled and small. Whatever the reason, His heart or his chains, He stood there on Christmas Eve, feeling disdain, Staring through the red crown, hissing whispered insults At the warm burning bonfires above in his cult. He knew every beast in Old Faith lands above, Was busy now, spreading their kindness and love, "And they're slacking on duties!" he snarled with a sneer, "Tomorrow is Christmas! It's practically here!" Then he growled, with his bone fingers nervously drumming, "I MUST find some way to stop Christmas from coming!" For Tomorrow, he knew, all mortal girls and boys, Would wake bright and early. They'd rush for their toys! And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise! Noise! Noise! Noise! That's one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! Then the cult, young and old, would sit down to a feast. And they'd feast! And they'd feast! And they'd FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! They would feast on pumpkin stew, and follower flesh. Which was something Narinder couldn't stand, even fresh! And THEN They'd do something He liked least of all! Every whelp in the compound, the tall and the small, Would stand close together, with rhythmic drums beating. They'd stand hand-in-hand. And the Lamb would start bleating!They'd bleat! And they'd bleat! And they'd BLEAT! BLEAT! BLEAT! BLEAT! And the more Nari thought of those ear piercing bleats, The more that he thought, "This should be no feat" "Why, for three centuries I've put up with it now!" "This ritual can be extinguished, But HOW?" Then he got an idea! An awful idea! NARINDER GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA! "I know just what to do!" The cat laughed in his throat. And he made a quick Santy Claus hat and a coat. And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great godly trick!" "With this coat and this hat, they’ll look just like Saint Nick!" "All I need is my vessel." The god looked around. But, since they had not died, they were not to be found. Did that stop Narinder? No! The cat simply said, "If they won’t come to me, I will grab them instead!" So he reached through a portal with his boney black hand, And pulled the Lamb out, just like he had planned.

In a flash they were dressed in their new Santa Fleece And fed their new doctrine against Christmas peace Then Narinder said, "GET OUT!" And he threw them right back, To the land of the living, with the plan of attack. Remove all the toys, the trees and the leisure So their god could watch over with quiet and pleasure Pleasing him was a thing that they so deeply treasured "This is stop number one," through the red crown he hissed, Pointing toward the small hut of a brand new cultist They walked in the hovel with reckless abandon Soon, there was no decor left up or left standin The red crown grew fat as they tossed presents in It was not a big fan, as it much preferred sin Lamb stuck to their task, as their master commands For, perhaps if they do this, they can maybe hold hands They gathered up things from shelter to shelter Heart burning with passion like a hot iron smelter Statues! Cookies! Holly and bells! Every last item made the greedy crown swell. By the look of things, Narinder could tell, The god’s plan was going incredibly well Lamb looted their food stores, tossing all they amassed For the cat god had called for a cult-wide week fast In the last little tent and the edge of the clearing While completing their task, the Lamb caught someone peering The follower yawned and their leader just knew It’s snoring poet, Thorjol, that liked to eat poo "Leader, I awoke when I heard something scoot May I ask why you’re wearing a Santa Claus suit?" Lamb had been caught, but patted his head Softly said, “BAAA,” then stabbed him til dead. They had already planned to get rid of this clown But the sacrifice ritual had been on cool down It was quarter past dawn… All the beasts, still a-bed, All the beasts, still asnooze, and the Lamb bowed their head Their crusade on Christmas went smooth as could be Now to dump all that garbage right into the sea Breaking a sweat, the wooled one rolled the crown All bloated and heavy, leaving a trench in the ground They soon reached the beach, down the sand like a comet When the crown hit the water, it started to vomit Little by little, it shrunk down to size With a noticeable watering under its eye Every last present sunk down to the depths But the Lamb beamed quite widely, no single tear wept They had done a good job, and they had just a hunch That their big hunky cat god was just pleased as punch It felt like that little lamb could do no wrong And they couldn’t help but break out into song They bleated and baa’d and bleated some more To an old sheepy folk song right there on the shore So loud and so proud, why it was such a show That it traveled down to the One Chained Below He gritted his teeth and plugged up his ears This whole thing confirmed his greatest of fears Christmas can be destroyed and reduced down to scrap But that goddamn Lamb will NOT shut their yap

[izvmimi]

cw: comfort, minimal hurt. implied break/break-up with retained feelings on both sides.

Midoriya is nothing if not persistent, and you have to hand it to him, he knows exactly how to pinpoint the soft center of your very heart. 

(Alternatively, perhaps all of it is soft for him, much to your chagrin, but that’s an issue to settle in due time.)

You can see from the inside of your apartment that he is standing at the front door, an overly ornate boxed and ribboned cake in his hands, and notably still clad in his hero suit, rocking back and forth slowly on his heels as he waits for you to open the door. He must have just gotten off patrol, you figure, as it is close to ten p.m. but in just a little over 2 hours, it will be Christmas and he should be at home with family, or perhaps someone that he loves, not here at your doorstep making another desperate bid for attention. 

You didn’t expect to see anyone tonight.

Exhausted from your own late shift, you’d immediately changed into pajamas, deciding that tomorrow’s hotpot dinner with Class 1A and a call to your family overseas would be as much Christmas as you would allow yourself to have. Your home is barely decorated, a simple wreath on the outside of your door being the limit of your effort for cheer (although the few scattered gifts in the corner of your living room from friends may add an extra element of festivity despite your best efforts, or lack thereof). By no means are you a Grinch, but Izuku must have the wrong door and wrong set of expectations.

He knocks again and you watch, deciding how believable it would be for you to pretend to go to bed. As you contemplate, you can see him pull out his phone and text, and you aren’t exactly surprised when your phone vibrates a few moments later, but you are surprised by the message.

Merry Christmas! If you don’t open the door, I’ll just leave the cake out for you, but I think it would taste even better if we shared it.

He knows you’re wide awake. You open the door quickly, your cheeks hot with embarrassment, but he’s unsurprised, smiling widely at you.

“Hey.”

His generous smile makes your stomach turn. 

“Why are you here, Midoriya?”

His smile doesn’t flicker in the least; rather, it widens.

“I wanted to see you. Can I come in?”

You’ve already let him in naturally, so it’s almost patronizing that he asks. You follow him inside, watching him take his shoes off at the genkan before asking any more questions, and he quickly deposits the cake at the kitchen table, before looking back at you. 

Your arms are crossed over your oversized T-shirt, just as wrinkled as the cotton shorts that peek underneath. Izuku considers for a moment that perhaps he is overstepping and frowns.

“Were you going to bed?”

You shake your head no. “You look like you’re coming right off the street, is everything okay?”

Izuku nods. “Perfect. I thought if I got home and changed first I’d be here too late, and I’ve been holding onto this bad boy since the bakery closed at 6pm so I thought my luck was about to run out.”

You glance at the strawberry sponge cake that looks somehow still pristine through the clear packaging and wonder if he just had a really uneventful night or he just took a special amount of attention to making sure nothing came to harm it. 

The idea of him holding it close to his chest makes you scrunch your face.

“Christmas Eve is for dates.”

Izuku’s emerald-like eyes are bright and hopeful as he agrees, as if you’re stating the obvious.

“Yeah. I’m thinking I came to the right place.”

Despite yourself, you bite your lower lip, the warmth in your cheeks now spreading to your ears. Unable to look at him any longer, you go to your cupboard and search for forks and plates. He makes his way to the kitchen sink as you fumble around to wash his hands, grabbing a few napkins on his way back to the table.

Izuku thanks you as you slice equal pieces for the two of you then waits, expectantly, until you bring the first bite to your lips before he does so himself. There’s something about the way that he watches your lips move that has you feeling a little too seen, but some of that has always been his natural superpower, quirkless or not. 

Observation. Knowing you as if he could sense your soul, and responding accordingly.

“Is it good?” he asks, as you take another eager bite, and you nod.

“Amazing,” you admit, and he beams, smiling from ear to ear. You expect him to give you details of where he got it or how but he chooses to say nothing instead, allowing you space to speak first.

You keep quiet as you eat at first, but find yourself looking at him a little too long, fixating on the way his suit spandex fits a little too snugly at the shoulders these days, and how thick his bicep is for the simple act of lifting a fork to his mouth. You consider for a moment that perhaps you should simply do it for him, but dispel that thought with a bit of shame.

You’re supposed to be playing hard to get, even if the fact of the matter is that you’ve been gotten, long ago perhaps even. 

How long will you continue to do this? He’s already told you he’ll do anything he can to win your heart back, even if it’s barely his fault he lost it in the first place.

You cut yourself another slice.

“Izuku, I still need more time,” you finally admit in a small voice. Izuku doesn’t look up from his cake slice, and you can tell this time it’s because he is still somewhat upset by your words, but he hums in assent.

“I understand.”

There’s the smallest waver in his voice that makes your heart wrench, even if it’s just for a moment.

The strawberry slices in every bite sweeten the bitter taste in your mouth regardless, and perhaps the truth is you’ll never truly know how to conceive of his name in your mouth as anything other than the finest sugar.

“Izuku…” you whisper again.

He looks at you directly in the eyes this time, warm and attentive. You’re reminded of the first time he told you he loved you, then the second, then the third, then more.

You set your plate down and come around the table, and as if he knows - he always knows - he pulls back his chair, and you find yourself settling into his lap, your arms around his neck.

Perhaps by time, you meant a matter of seconds.

Your head tilts upwards and your lips meet, and he tastes like Christmas cake and love.

“I need more time,” you repeat again, between kisses. His arms hold you tightly around your waist, and he nods, lids heavy with desire as he waits for you to continue.

“... so can you please stay the night?”

[greyeyedmonster-18]

jingle all the bidet

(a wolfstar holiday au.

happy christmas eve. this is simply nonsense. enjoy xoxo)

--

Remus practically ran to the front door once he heard the knock, socks sliding on the hardwood floors, sweater sleeves pushed up to his elbows though that wasn't particularly helpful. The cuffs were soaking, and the extra fabric drooped down to his forearms, small droplets splattering as he twisted the knob in a hurry, flinging the door of the house open.

"Hello, sir. I'm with Potter's Plumbing, we got a call about--"

"Yes! Yes! That's me," Remus said, gesturing wildly for the man to step through the doorway.

"I didn't finish--"

"As long as you're a plumber, I don't much care what call you were supposed to be on. You're here, you're helping me. Remus, hi, so nice to meet you--" 

"Sirius." Sirius seemed to get the hint, stepping into the house and Remus was able to firmly shut the door behind him, perhaps a little too forcefully.

"On a different day, I'd make a comment about our names and how we should join some sort of support group for parents with odd senses of humor but--" Remus didn't bother to look behind him as he walked quickly down the hallway, to see if Sirius was following him, just blindly hoping Sirius had these sort of emergency calls all the time. As a plumber does. No time for small talk and pleasantries and other superfluous information. 

Just quick. Down to business. Before a house flooded. Or maybe that was unique to Remus.

"Not today?" Sirius remarked from behind, a touch of laughter in his voice.

"Absolutely not today. You see, I'm in a bit of a plumbing crisis--on the Eve before Christmas Eve nonetheless. Festivus!-- so you can imagine my stress, I simply do not have the time to pencil in a good joke, because there are bigger issues at hand and I'm hoping you'll know exactly what to do, because I am at a loss and well....ta da!" Remus stopped just in front of the bathroom door, a weak smile on his face as he glanced between the mess of the master bathroom, and Sirius. 

It was a scene from a film.  Except instead of the bathroom being booby-trapped and finagled to catch robbers from killing him, Remus had made an entire crime scene attempting to install a bidet himself. 

How hard could it be?

Remus should’ve known when he was required to use a wrench that it would end poorly, but he had a modicum of faith, and a stubborn streak a mile long. 

There was an elbow-sized hole in the wall behind the toilet.

The tile flooded. Remus’s house slippers soggy on the bottom and cast aside outside the bathroom door. 

Remus had put a bucket behind the piping, but that didn’t catch much water at all when it all shot up like a geyser into the air, drops now falling from the ceiling. Remus had somehow managed to take down the shower curtain as well, and if he was brave enough later, he thought he might ask Sirius for help putting that back up. 

The top toilet cover had a handsome chip missing from it.

The toilet seat off its hinges.

And the bidet proudly on the floor.

Sirius tilted his head to the side slowly, surveying the scene wordlessly and inhaling deeply. Sirius took a pencil from out of his back pocket, scribbling a few notes on a notepad before turning to Remus and opening his mouth.

“We—”

“I know, I know. You’re probably wondering what the bloody hell happened,” Remus chuckled nervously, “And if I’m being honest, I’m wondering the same thing. I-I-I read the instructions before attempting to do this and I have always been a good student. A great one even!” Remus started and then stopped, “Okay, no, that was a lie. I’ve always been an okay student, but I know how to read. And in theory, I had it down pat. Flawlessly executed in my mind. But damn are toilet’s a lot harder to maneuver than the bloody instructions made it seem and one thing leads to another, I’m squatting down, elbow-deep in drywall. Literally,” Remus gestured to the hole behind the toilet, “I guess the only thing is I’m glad the water was clean and flushed and, and, well, you know what I mean don’t you?”

“I was going to say,” Sirius started, tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip, the corners of his mouth turning upward in amusement, “I hope you have another bathroom to use in the meantime.”

“Thank god we do.”

“Alright,” Sirius nodded, hitching up the knees of his jeans and squatting down to get a closer look at the damage. The band of his underwear poked over the top of his jeans. 

“A-alright, then. I’ll. Just..stay out of your hair and uh, let you get to work.”

“Sounds good.”

“Do you need anything? I think there’s a wrench down there somewhere,” Remus pointed to the broken ceramic behind the toilet.  Sirius stood back up and turned around to face Remus, who, at that moment, realized he was standing much too close, now standing nearly nose to nose with a stranger-plumber and he flushed. “Ah! Sorry, sorry, I’ll just—”

“I’ve got to get some supplies from my truck, but otherwise I should be all set. The beauty of calling a plumber is they take care of it for you, and you can just relax, Mr….?”

“Remus! No, I mean not Mr. Remus. Remus Lupin. Mr. Remus Lupin.”

“Alright, Mr. Remus Lupin, rest easy,” Sirius said, with a quick smirk, walking past Remus down the hallway again toward the front door. Remus felt like he was chasing after him Sirius’s stride was so long and certain. 

“No, I mean, you don’t need to call me Mr. Remus Lupin. Or Mr. at all. It’s just Remus.” Sirius nodded again and exited the house. 

--

Remus wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do while a maintenance person was in his home. He recalled vaguely as a child hiding in his room until they left, pretending he did not exist--there were absolutely no children in this home, and if there were they certainly were not present at the time they were there, no sir! And typically, Gideon was the one who handled service requests. Remus making it a point to be uncharacteristically busy the moment something needed a repair. A light not working? Suddenly Remus needed to leave and return a package that had been sitting there for two weeks already. But Gideon was away, finishing up work for the holiday season, which was the perfect time for Remus to surprise him with a gift. 

A shame it ended in absolute disaster.

And now Remus didn’t know what to do.

With his hands, with his time, with his anything. And opted to pace back and forth down the hallway as Sirius started working in the bathroom. 

“Hello!” Remus poked his head into the bathroom, hands on the door frame. “Just checking in.”

“Checked,” Sirius told him, not moving from his position on the floor of the bathroom. Sirius’s work boots were damp on the bottom, uniform shirt rolled up to his elbows, and the long curly hair that had previously been down and dusting the man's shoulders, pulled up and out of the way. 

“Can I get you anything? Water, or a snack, surely you must be hungry or--”

“I’m all set, Remus.”

“Or, maybe I could--”

Sirius cleared his throat and sat up to look at Remus, elbows resting on the top of his knees, “Though I know it perhaps feels odd, as usually, I assume, when you have guests over, you entertain them in some capacity. But in this situation, it is quite okay to ignore me.”

“I…people really just ignore you?”

“Most of the time. Spare a few odd moments of chatter, but I believe you said this was an emergency and there simply wasn’t time for that today.”

“Well you don’t seem too concerned about all this.”

“I’ve seen so much worse.”

“That’s comforting. Perhaps I could make time for a joke or two then.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Oh, uhm,” Remus’s eyes went wide, “I-I didn’t mean an actual joke, I don’t think I have any of those, though I really should. I’m a teacher, you see. Kids love jokes, but I think most of the time, I’m the joke and don’t necessarily need to come up with something with a punchline. So, I might be fresh out, but if you give me an hour I could look one up.”

“Why did the Christmas tree go to the barber?”

“What?”

“Why did the Christmas tree go to the doctor?” Sirius repeated, soft smile on his face as he waited Remus to answer.

“Uh…I dunno. Why?”

“It was looking a little green,” Sirius finished, slapping the top of his knee for effect and Remus snorted.

“That was pretty good.”

“My godson is seven and is in his joke telling phase. I had to find a few of my own. You know, just to make sure I didn’t lose the cool godfather credibility.”

“Of course,” Remus said, and nodded, “Sorry…I’ll let you work.”

“If you would prefer…you don’t have to ignore me.”

“Really?” Remus asked, but was already inside the bathroom yet again, “Because I am winded walking up and down that hallway, between this botched installation and the pacing and the everything, this is the highest my heart rate has been in years. I promise, you won’t even know I’m here.” Remus took a seat on the edge of the bathtub letting out a sigh of relief as Sirius lowered himself to the floor once again.

--

It turns out, it was probably a good thing that Remus had never been home previously when a repair person had entered, because he could not simply pretend to not be there any longer. He was there. And Remus did not do well with silence.

“....so anyway, when we moved in, and I think Gideon--my partner, did I say that already? Oh, I did, I know I did-- wants to repaint the walls next year, to add some life into the place. But I dunno, I think it’s pretty lively. Do you think so? You go in a lot of homes, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“And does mine, breathe life?”

“The snowflake hand towels are a nice touch,” Sirius commented, as he twisted something on the side of the toilet. 

“That's what I thought! Why do we need to paint and redo everything, when we can…spruce it up, with towels and…other decorations? Other..less permanent things,” Remus finished and Sirius hummed. “Not that I know much, or anything really, about designing and homes. This is my first one. Well, after the one I lived in before, but there isn’t exactly a book about how to…home. You know?”

“I get what you mean,” Sirius confirmed, “Are you French?”

“Pardon?”

“The bidet,” Sirius said from his position on the bathroom floor, back on the ground and doing something to the piping. The number of tools Sirius had brought with him was evidence enough that Remus had no business installing the bidet in the first place, the wrench he had sworn would be enough Sirius hadn’t even touched. Though he probably had nicer wrenches. Fancier wrenches. Did wrenches have levels of class? Just as well Remus would use a poor man's wrench.

“Uh. No, no, I’m not French. Not really. Sort of? My father is. Or…was. Is? He died, so he’s not…currently French and walking around saying Bonjour, or mon petit chou anymore, not that…that wasn’t all he said but he is French but just French as in dead in a cemetery. But his body-you know what I mean, don’t you? Anyway, he was—is—French, I am not. Well not, not. I grew up in Wales with my Mum. We barely had plumbing, sometimes we just went out back and dug a hole in the ground! Never had this problem with holes, I’ll tell you that much, no, no problems like this,” Remus trailed off and Sirius made another hum of acknowledgement as he worked, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up. People get weird when I do. Like oh, I’m so sorry for your loss, and I can’t say, It’s fine I barely knew him! Without sounding like a complete arsehole so, I usually just make it weird and awkward and uh…well, you have a front-row seat to that,” Remus said, slapping his hands on his thighs, the thwack against his jeans echoing through the bathroom.

“You’re not an arsehole.”

“You don’t know me that well.”

“You’re not an arsehole for not knowing your parent,” Sirius clarified. “Wales is nice.”

“It is. It was.”

“So you’re not French, why the bidet?”

Remus sighed standing up from the ledge of the tub, pacing the floor for the bathroom as he spoke, "Well, you see, I got it as a gift for my partner. Gideon, remember? They're away on business, and I told myself this was the perfect time to get ahead on Christmas shopping. If you knew me...which you don't, not really, but maybe by the end of this whole mess we'll be fast friends! I already told you about my dead Dad, and that's usually something I hold off on…it’s a bit of a downer. Anyway, if you knew me..know me, I'm terrible at planning ahead. I mean, who wants to go to the shops during the hols? Nobody. I don't care how much you love your mother--and I love mine, I promise I do, really--all the people running around, it's just too much. So I put it off and put it off, and suddenly it's Christmas Eve and--"

"That's about the worst time to go..." Sirius said, shifting his position so he was crouching instead, lifting the toilet seat off in one smooth piece.

"Precisely, so sometimes I don't even bother going at all, which I suppose might make me a bad person. I'm not! Occasionally an arsehole, but not a bad person! I recycle and, and, and I’m a good friend, I-I-I just...planning and gifts and the whole bit of it...isn't my strongest suit,” Remus said. “So I was so proud of myself! Because Gideon had mentioned wanting a bidet for the bathroom, the breathing life and the personal touches and all that--”

“I’m noticing a theme…”

“Yes! Life, carpe fucking diem! So he mentioned it, and I remembered--which is another thing I am not the greatest at-- and I went out and bought the bidet! Hid it in my office at work for a month knowing he’d be out of town today, and it would be the perfect opportunity to install it. He’d come back from his trip, go to the bath to wash up and he would be overjoyed, elated, delighted even, to see the bidet there, and I would be there shouting Happy Christmas! and for once feel like I really nailed the Christmas gift. Because the thing is, he is so thoughtful and so good at gift giving, and I…just come up short. And I thought not this year! But instead of coming home to a beautifully installed bidet, he’ll come home to…a plumbing bill and peeling up linoleum tile and a patched up hole and…a shower curtain. And-and- who knows if he’ll even like it! He’ll probably hate it.”

“Why would he hate it?”

“He never usually likes my gifts.”

“Who…doesn’t just say thank you for a gift?” Sirius asked, pausing his work to look at Remus. “That’s kind of the rule isn’t it? Even if it's an itchy sweater, or something you don’t particularly like, you say thank you and then later return it and pretend it didn’t fit. It’s not about the gift.”

“Well, I don’t know if there’s rules exactly,” Remus countered, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought of birthdays and holidays gone by where Gideon had remarked "oh, this isn’t exactly what i wanted, or you tried, Re in response to Remus’s efforts. 

“Secret rules, as my godson would say.”

“I mean, sure, there’s secret…rules, I guess, but remember? were you not listening to the whole bad at gift giving part?”

“I listened. Were you gifting rotten eggs?”

“Well no. It’s just that, he, and-and-I we’re just never on the same page, and his gifts are--and well, mine are--”

“Ah.”

“And, and, and who the fuck gets their partner a bidet for Christmas?”

“Well…maybe someone who has a partner who asked for one?” Sirius said, smirking a little before getting back to his work.

“Well you’re a bit arrogant, aren’t you?”

“Or just…right.”

“No. Because he didn’t explicitly ask for one he more mentioned it in passing…he’s mentioned  countless things in passing, why not just by one of those and not a major home renovation…this was a terrible idea. This was stupid! Why didn’t you tell me that? Going on about the gift rules and secrets, and the real issue here is that this was a bad idea!”

“I’m in the business of fixing up baths, not sharing my opinions on Christmas gifts.”

“Except you just did.”

“Very unprofessional of me, I admit.”

Remus said, stopping his pacing to run a hand over his face, “This is very unprofessional of me. Arguing with my plumber! About presents. And, it’s my fault, really. I should’ve told you in the call! That’s what I should’ve done, straight out the gate, just let you know the real situation, and I should’ve said that I bought this stupid bidet, and made a mess of my bathroom, and a million other wrong things--”

Sirius grabbed the bidet from the floor and placed it on top of the toilet. Pieces falling perfectly into place. 

“It’s not a bad gift,” Sirius told him, “Odd perhaps, but thoughtful. Plumbers honor.”

“Really…?”

“Really.”

“You’re right!” Remus said, and as Sirius made some final adjustments before pressing a button on the bidet. A jingle played.

“And, for what it's worth, you bought a good bidet. Nicer bidets tend to be more finicky to install so…really, this mess showcases heaps of effort.”

“Thank you!” Remus responded, somewhat indignantly, throwing his arms into the air. Someone understood. 

“That’s exactly what he should say. Your partner. When he walks into this room and notices--”

“The bidet.”

“The spectacular bidet.”

“What…if he doesn’t?” Remus asked quietly after a long silence, two men standing and admiring the bidet sitting proudly on a toilet with a broken top, singing its little song to prove it was functioning. 

“Would you like my professional opinion?”

“...Yes.”

“If he doesn’t say thank you and kiss you full on the mouth for this very thoughtful gift…then at least you can enjoy this bidet and you throw a massive party with all of your friends and tell them to use this bathroom.” Remus snorted, thinking about walking guests into the master bedroom and bathroom during a party--coworkers and neighbors and friends, stepping on the carpet in their shoes just to get to the bidet. 

“What’s your unprofessional one?”

“Find someone who will say thank you.”

“So I should find a liar.”

“Thank you for thinking of me, and thank you for the effort it took to find this gift, isn’t a lie in my book. It’s not about the bidet.”

“It could be.”

“Yeah but it's not.”

“But it is, kind of.”

“No.”

Remus opened his mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to say, Sirius grinning smugly at Remus, daring him to disagree again. This man might have had the same stubborn streak Remus had. His stomach fluttered for a moment, almost laughing, almost joyful at the silly, naive thought of spending a lifetime with a man, this man, who argued without the malice behind the words. 

“It’s not that simple anyway,” Remus said, “Just…leaving.”

“Never said it was, but either way…this is yours,” Sirius gestured to the bidet, “And someone should use it.

--

It had only been a few hours, but the bathroom looked good as new. Bidet installed, hole patched up and water was mopped up. The only sign that something had gone awry was the toilet top with the chunk missing. 

“We’ll have to get you a new one,” Sirius told him, writing up the invoice as they walked to Remus’s front door, toolbox in hand

“Will that take weeks?” 

“No, a few days just because of the holidays. I’ll bring it by the 26th, and it’ll be all set.”

“You are truly a life saver, I don’t know what I would’ve done, and….thanks for listening to me talk…all day. I know you probably didn’t sign up for that exactly when you took this call, and probably had better things to be doing, and--”

“This was one of the more enjoyable calls I’ve had actually,” Sirius told him, pausing in front of the front door. “I had a good time.”

Remus laughed awkwardly, reaching for the doorknob to open the door for Sirius, “This feels like the end of some sort of date…do you want me to walk you to your car?”

“Very kind, but I promise I’ll make it.” Sirius nodded, sticking out his hand. Definitely not a date. “Pleasure working with you Mr. Lupin.”

“Remus.”

“Remus,” Sirius said, “I’ll see you in a few days. My numbers on the invoice, should anything come up before then. Just…call.”

--

Christmas music was playing loudly in his living room, Sirius’s godson testing out his new dance moves learned at school on the rug, his best friends clapping along and joining in with their own dance moves alongside their child. Sirius had just pulled the roast chicken out of the oven--the shining star for the Christmas Eve feast-- when the phone rang. Oven mitts still on, he hurried to grab the land line, tossing a stray curl out of his face as he answered.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Potter’s Plumbing?” the voice on the other end said and Sirius couldn’t help but bite back a smile. He had been in Remus’s home for only a few hours, but had heard the other man talk enough that Sirius was certain he’d be able to identify who was speaking with his eyes closed. It was refreshing. Sirius returned home that day and recounted the emergency call to his best friend, leaving out no details about the frazzled, freckled, and messy man who attempted to install a bidet. 

You put your personal number on the invoice? Sirius, that’s too bold.

Sirius was thinking he wouldn’t call.

He hadn’t expected any bidet related emergencies.

“This is Sirius Black,” Sirius said, “But I am part of Potter’s Plumbing.”

“Oh, good, Sirius, it’s you. Hello, it’s Remus Lupin, remember, you serviced my bidet a few days ago and there's a toilet top that needs to be repaired, and we hung up a shower curtain together and I almost fell to my death off the bathtub ledge?”

“Ah yes,” Sirius teased, “Thanks for those details to jog my memory, without them I would’ve definitely forgotten. Did you run into some trouble?”

“Uh…No.”

“Oh…then, how can I help you, Mr. Lupin?”

“Remus.”

“Remus.”

“I…” Sirius heard Remus click his tongue a few times, “I…decided to…not…I mean, I don’t need a new toilet top. Can I cancel that? I think it looks better this way.”

“With the missing part?” Sirius asked, feeling a touch disappointed at the nature of the call.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go ahead and cancel that for you, Remus. No problem at all. Was that it?”

“No,” Remus said and paused again, “I’m having a sort of party.”

“Sort of?”

“A party, on New Year's Eve. I decided. To celebrate the new year and new beginnings and all that, glad tidings, you know, the things people usually celebrate. And…also to celebrate the bidet that's in the bathroom because I’ve been told it's a good bidet, like a nice one even! A professional told me that, and it…uh should be appreciated by someone. So I'm having a party and I’m wondering if…you like bidets?”

“Did I not tell you I’m French? I love bidets.”

[amarynthian-chronicles]

Celestial Christmas

(Merry Christmas darling @amymaleneart , I am your Secret Santa!!!! Here is some cozy cuteness for you to enjoy, all of your celestial boys celebrating the holiday with you. I wish you all the best and merriest of Christmases, all the love, the softest and nicest things, and the best New Year of 2025)

You were sitting on a nest of cushions, observing as the giant Cosmodian beings were comically running around and making a rather splendid rendition of a Christmas gathering.

Little harpy chicks Sun and Moon were nesting next to you, wearing cozy Christmas sweaters and watching the aliens curiously. It was all rather silly, and they would look at each other each time their alien counterparts would trip over a wayward decoration on the floor.

Dr. Sun spoke in a cheerful manner, waving his tail happily as he tried to get your official stamp of approval for his actions.

"Sweetheart! We can always add more lights if needed, we truly wish to provide the most authentic experience."

You giggled, unable to hide your mirth at the whole situation.

"Well, it seems mostly in order. You boys seem to be getting better at this!"

Dr. Moon appeared, carrying a few more boxes of presents and placing them under the Christmas tree.

"Dearest, we would love to hear more of your input. It is so exciting to engage in these interesting human customs. I believe we have most items on the list all checked off."

Seeing these majestic and fluffy Cosmodian beings go to such lengths to create this special moment for you was very heartwarming. It was your first Christmas to celebrate together with all of your celestial creations, and the boys were quite serious about making everything absolutely perfect.

Dr. Sun had even managed to convince his brothers to learn how to knit the very same sweaters that the baby harpy chicks were currently wearing. It was rather silly seeing the three of them make their way through the treacherous realm of knitting with their claws.

You smiled at the memory.

Just then, Captain Eclipse had entered the room, wearing a giant version of a chef uniform and pushing a cart that contained a small feast. Roast turkey, potatoes, freshly baked bread. His tail was also comically wrapped around an entire bag full of files. "I had done extensive research on the holiday and human cuisine. We shall make this the best Christmas ever for you, our starlight!"

You could not help but laugh "I am truly surprised and I appreciate all of this, my dear Captain. I thank you very much."

He made an elegant bow "all for our esteemed and beautiful starlight."

The harpy chicks seemed both confused and amused with the whole thing, but they made themselves comfy in your arms. You held them close, loving the warmth of their soft feathers.

"See, little ones? Look how sweet your counterparts are being." The harpy chicks chirped and nuzzled you to show their love. They also wondered when they could snatch some of the treats that were waiting on the table.

Dr. Moon winked at you "we have another little surprise for you. Another one of us shall be coming shortly, he is the most recent addition to your creations and he has a special show ready for you."

You tilted your head in surprise "Oh? My, my, I am looking forward to see what more you all have in store for me!"

You had to hold your tears back. It was all so beautiful, so magnificent. There was warmth, a promise of care and softness. Perhaps in this tiny stolen moment you could find peace.

The tree was marvelously decorated, so many celestial ornaments, but also hand-crafted decorations that the boys had made. Even little letters with messages of love and adoration. You couldn't wait to open all of the presents that were underneath the tree, the wrappings with patterns of suns and crescent moons.

You could allow yourself to feel loved and safe in this one moment, completely devoid of past and future, one comfortable moment in the present where you could allow yourself to relax and breathe.

Sweet scents. Lemon meringue pie and chai. Lavender and blueberry. Freshly roasted feast. Marvellous, marvellous.

You were suddenly distracted from your thoughts as the fluffy Cosmodians sat next to you, cuddling close.

"It is beginning, it is beggining! He is here!"

You blinked at them in confusion "hmm?"

The lights turned off, leaving all in darkness, save for the sparkly Christmas lights on the tree and along the walls. The ceiling suddenly was bathed in stars, as if to mimic the night sky. A few moments passed and a spotlight appeared right next to the Christmas tree, almost akin to a Broadway show or a similar stage performance.

An elegant Eclipse animatronic stood there, wearing a magnificently tailored suit, far more elaborate and gaudy than the ones he would have in the speakeasy. He was grinning at you, his golden eyes holding pure adoration and desire.

He held the microphone close, winking at you, making your cheeks burn and blush. His voice was deep and gravelly, almost sinful, and yet with such a beauty that was rare to find.

"I dedicate this one to my most dazzling sweetheart, heart of my heart, my fiery darling."

Music played, echoing across the entire area, reminiscing an era long gone, an era of ladies and gentlemen in Art Deco dance halls and speakeasies. As charming as Frank Sinatra, Eclipse was singing softly, swaying, moving closer to the audience.

The Cosmodians gently hummed in unison, enjoying the display. The harpy chicks were fascinated and made happy noises, amused with all of this wonder and lovelines they had been experiencing for the first time in their young lives.

It was so perfect, so cozy. You could not contain your joy anymore and you allowed tears to flow as Eclipse reached for your hand, kneeling before you and singing.

He invited you to stand up and gently dance with him, as he wrapped one arm around you, holding the microphone with his other hand still. This Eclipse was indeed rather villainous in your stories, but you could not deny how lovely it was to hear him sing for you. Tender, so tender.

"And have yourself a merry little Christmas now..."

You closed your eyes as he leaned to press a kiss to your cheek and your forehead.

What else could be appropriate for you to do now?

Perhaps make a wish?

Your wish.

A wish that may only be heard by the stars, but you needed to make it anyway.

May this moment never truly end, and may the beauty of this perfect second follow you for eternity, no matter the universe, no matter the world. You are safe and adored. You were happy.

Merry Christmas to all.

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Rose Recaps 2024 - Korea

Starting my list of favourite shows with Korea. They gave us so much angst, and some of them I still haven't fully been able to shake. Let's go.

The one with the existential dread

Love For Love's Sake

I was not ready. Not that I think there was a way I would be, but still. I was floored. It was an ambitious concept but executed pretty much flawlessly. If they had a bit more time, I think the world building could've benefited a little, cause there were parts that felt a bit rushed but overall the themes were well conveyed throughout. This show can be interpreted in a variety of ways, and one can take from it different things. For so much of this show I was filled with anxiety and sadness, but by the end the overall message of self love healed a small part of me. The visuals were strong and the actors did a wonderful job.

Favourite Moment:

Obvious perhaps, but no one can deny the beauty of this moment. Just the pure relief and joy I felt, made it one of my favourites of the year.

The one with all the yearning

The Time of Fever

I was so normal about this show. First let me just say, that I don't think of this show as a prequel. I know it is one, but I prefer to think of it as its own thing. This show drove me crazy. I suffered through it twice, and I kept finding new things that drove me insane. The yearning, the pining, the love these two have for each other that can only be rivalled by the fear they both share. Hotae is afraid of his feelings, because he can't understand them or can't accept them, but he also can't resist the pull. Donghee is afraid because he does understand, but he also knows what it means, so he needs to protect his friend from all the ugliness he himself has endured. And the actors just portrait these emotions so well. Truly some of the best acting I've seen this year. The camera work is outstanding, the framing always intentional and the lighting is good enough to break your heart.

Favourite Moment:

The heater between them??? Incredible. I'm still in awe of this whole scene. From the feeding of the orange slice to the kiss itself and their body language right to their expressions at the end. It was a flawless scene.

The one with all the trauma

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo

Every week I was filled with excitement and dread waiting for new episodes. It was a painful journey for them and for me. Such a raw depiction of how trauma follows you long after you left the place where you endured it behind you. Closure is such an overused word, because it always sounds like there's a switch you can flip, and you're fine. Like it's that simple. The way Dohoe carried all of the abuse with him, how he shaped his life around it unconsciously, all along believing he was healing himself, it was heartbreaking to watch. And JuYeong. The boy who waited. The boy who understood and gave him the space to heal. Time stopped for 12 years for both of them. But they have a lifetime left to heal together and find happiness in the simple act of loving and being loved by each other.

Favourite Moment:

The symbolism destroyed me. The cross, the wall, the confession. Masterful.

The one that wasn't like the others

Love In The Big City

I don't even know what to say any more. It was an amazing adaption. Stellar acting, great script, gorgeous visuals. It's messy and it all feels so real. Young is one of my favourite characters of all time, both the one from the book and the one from the series. I wanted to hug him and hit him over the head at several points. I did appreciate the bigger presence of the T-aras, it left me more hopeful than the novel. I'm still not over the break up though.

Favourite Moment:

The honesty, the unconditional acceptance. To watch Young experience it for the first time was overwhelming.

Honourable mention to Boys Be Brave that I adored. And the only reason is not in this list is because of the second couple. They needed more time, and even with the time they had I thought the writing of that storyline was a bit messy. But I loved the mains.

See you soon with Taiwan, maybe. 💜

[gothamdemonologist]

One, two, three. A dozen more near misses. Jason could see the beginnings of fatigue in the body if not the spellcraft. Another miss, and he wondered if perhaps they ought to stop and try again tomorrow. They had been after it for nearly...Jason glanced at his watch. They'd begun at half past four, and now it was a quarter to midnight.

Snap, snap, snap. How many more of those could she manage with steady output? Practice would help regulate the energy expended. Minimise additional and unnecessary strain. the form was still new in the mind, the motions only a few hours old, and perhaps a bit too much energy poured into each little cage. Jason flicked his wrist again, and the imps scattered like frightened rats. All in different directions, and then, snap.

One clawed at the inside of the snare, and after several seconds of scratching and pressing, it went still. The other half dozen ceased their movements and sat. Like obedient little sentries. Inert glittering eyes shone in the dimly lit room and Jason pushed away from the table.

"Before midnight, not bad. You will do better." He says, that cool appraising tone back in full force. Not can, but will.

@gothamdemonologist

A very posh and sharp looking young woman had come into the shop, sneering at how messy everything was. "Ugh you'd think a city shop would have higher standards " she snarled as she walked up to the counter "Hello!!!?? Anyone here?" She demanded "And can someone turn on the lights and clean up...ugh can't find anything "

Meanwhile two voices spoke just outside as the bell rang announcing their arrival "...so boss, how much of a dragon horde will we see today?" A familiar voice to the much less friendly woman said "is that Mary Faekay?" She pondered

[wonlvures]

— A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE — PARK JONGSEONG

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, romance

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you and Jay celebrate christmas together!

𝐀.𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sorry i haven’t been posting ! i’ve been very lazy 😞

It was Christmas Eve in Seoul, and the city was alive with holiday cheer. The streets shimmered with dazzling lights, and snowflakes gently fell from the sky, blanketing the sidewalks in soft white. The scent of roasted chestnuts and fresh pine mixed in the air, and everything seemed to glow under the light of the festive decorations. People bustled around, shopping for last-minute gifts and sipping hot drinks from street vendors.

Inside a cozy little cafe on a quiet corner of the city, Y/N sat by the window, a warm latte cradled between her hands. The holiday season always filled her with a sense of wonder, and tonight, something felt even more special. Perhaps it was the quiet beauty of the snow, or perhaps it was the anticipation of seeing someone very important to her—someone who had become much more than just a friend over the past few months.

Her phone buzzed on the table, breaking her out of her thoughts. She looked down to see a message from Jay, the charming and kind-hearted lead vocalist of ENHYPEN.

"I’m outside! Can you come out?"

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she quickly stood up, her eyes lighting up. She’d been looking forward to this all week. Tonight was a chance to spend some quiet time with him—just the two of them, away from the chaos of the world. Grabbing her coat, she slipped into the cool winter air and stepped out of the cafe.

There, standing under a streetlamp dusted with snow, was Jay. He was dressed warmly in a thick, black jacket and a soft, checkered scarf, his hands tucked into his pockets. His breath formed small clouds in the chilly air, and as soon as he spotted her, his face broke into that signature grin that always made her heart race.

"Hey, you made it!" he said, taking a step toward her. "Sorry if I kept you waiting."

Y/N smiled, shaking her head. "No, I just got here. It’s so beautiful tonight, don’t you think?"

Jay looked around at the snow-covered streets, the festive lights strung across the buildings. He chuckled. "Yeah, it’s like a Christmas movie. I’m glad we’re spending it together."

There was a softness in his voice that made Y/N's heart flutter, but she quickly shook it off, attributing it to the magic of the season. "I’m really glad, too. So, what’s the plan?"

Jay grinned mischievously. "I was thinking we could walk around, look at the decorations, and maybe grab some hot cocoa or something. Just enjoy the night."

Y/N nodded enthusiastically. "That sounds perfect."

The two of them wandered through the streets, walking side by side as the city’s Christmas lights sparkled around them. Every now and then, Jay would playfully flick snow at Y/N, causing her to laugh and retaliate with a small snowball of her own. It felt like the world had faded away, leaving only the two of them in their own little bubble.

After a while, they found themselves in a nearby park, where the trees were decked out in thousands of twinkling lights. The peaceful quiet of the place, with the soft crunch of snow beneath their feet, made it feel like they had stepped into a winter wonderland. The only sound was the gentle rustle of the branches in the wind and the occasional giggle between them.

They stopped in front of a large Christmas tree in the center of the park, its lights glowing brightly. Jay took a deep breath, looking at the tree in silence before turning to face Y/N. His expression had softened, and his usual playful energy seemed to have mellowed.

"You know," Jay began, his voice quieter now, "I’ve been thinking about this moment for a while."

Y/N tilted her head curiously. "What do you mean?"

He took another deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts, then looked into her eyes with a seriousness that surprised her. "I just… I’ve been so busy with everything lately, with ENHYPEN and all the craziness that comes with it. But every time I see you, I feel like I can finally breathe. You make everything feel so much better. And I realized tonight that it’s not just about having fun or spending time together. It’s something more."

Y/N’s heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. She wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed, but the air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings. She looked down at their feet for a moment, trying to steady herself.

Jay reached out, gently lifting her chin so that their eyes met once more. "Y/N, I think... I think I’m falling for you."

The words hung in the air, and Y/N’s heart seemed to stop for a moment. Was she hearing this right? Her mind raced as she looked up at him, trying to make sense of what he had just said.

Jay looked at her with those warm, dark eyes, waiting for her response. "I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now, but I didn’t know how… or if you felt the same way."

Y/N felt a wave of emotions wash over her—surprise, joy, and a little nervousness. She’d always known there was something special between them, but to hear Jay say it out loud made everything feel real.

"I… I think I feel the same," she whispered, almost too quietly to hear. "I’ve always cared about you, Jay. More than I realized."

A soft smile spread across his face, and he gently pulled her into a warm hug, wrapping his arms around her as if he never wanted to let go. Y/N melted into the embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest. The world seemed to fade into the background, and for that moment, it was just the two of them, surrounded by the magic of Christmas.

When they pulled away, Jay’s face was flushed, but his smile was brighter than ever. "So, we’re each other’s Christmas miracle then?"

Y/N laughed softly, her heart full. "I think so."

Jay’s eyes softened as he stepped closer, his hand gently cupping her face. "I’m really glad we’re here, Y/N. This is… this is everything I’ve wanted."

Before she could respond, he leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead in a tender kiss. The moment felt like a dream—a perfect, serene memory that she would cherish forever.

As they stood there, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the snow continued to fall around them, adding to the magic of the night. The twinkling lights on the Christmas tree reflected in Jay’s eyes, and Y/N felt as though she had stepped into her own little holiday fairy tale. The love she’d always hoped for had found her, and it was here, under the snowy sky, with the person who made her heart feel like home.

As they walked back through the park, hand in hand, the city lights guiding their way, Y/N knew that this Christmas would be the start of something beautiful. Something lasting. And no matter what happened in the future, she would always remember this night—the night she and Jay found each other, wrapped in the warmth of the season and the magic of a Christmas miracle.

[delirious-donna]

tw: Kafka Hibino x female reader, monsterfucking (kinda?), face sitting, dirty talk, pussy drunk Kafka, partial Kaiju transformations, squirting

The first transformation was subtle, so subtle that your brain tried to trick you into thinking it was purely your imagination.

Your fingers tightened around the cool metal frame of the headboard, listening to the filthiest slurping noises you had ever heard whilst electricity zipped through the length of your body.

Kafka was always an enthusiastic eater, and this was no more apparent than when his face was buried between your plush thighs. For once you had indulged his persistent desire for you to sit on his face so he could drink down every dribble of your arousal as he worked you over with gusto.

His tongue circled your clenching hole, the tip slipping inside only to dart out again when the muscles tried desperately to pull him deeper. His nose rubbed back and forth, side to side and in messy circles atop your pert clit until you were throbbing all over, barely holding onto your ability to think straight.

Your thighs tightened around his ears and that’s when you felt it…

The warm wet muscle pushed deep into your cunt, far further than should have been humanly possible. Perhaps… no, surely not.

You glanced down at the dark mess of hair, peering at his eyes screwed tightly shut and wondered again.

Kafka wouldn’t transform his tongue into Kaiju form… would he?

“Kaf?”

He grunted in reply, nosing firmly at your swollen bud and grinding you against his mouth. The scruff of his chin scratched your perineum deliciously, puffs of hot air exhaled from his nose and his tongue writhed inside your walls, massaging every possible pleasure spot simultaneously.

The slippery muscle wriggled and seemed to thicken and pulse. You squeaked; sucking in great lungfuls of air in an effort to steady your breathing. Never had you felt so full from being tongue fucked before. If you didn’t know better you could be forgiven for thinking it was his fingers or his thick cock plugging you up right now, not his tongue!

One hand let go of their perch, sinking your fingers through his midnight hair and fisting the strands until you could feel his hips buck against the bed behind your back. You wanted to turn, to look over your shoulder and see his hand curled around his cock. Pumping the generous length and watching thick pearls of precum leak from his tip and over his knuckles. Except Kakfa had other ideas.

His palms came up to where your knees were perched on either side of his head and yanked them wider apart, rough callouses dragging up the insides of your thighs to where your skin shivered from the hungry touches.

He growled, head rising from the bed to practically suffocate himself in your sweet, sticky cunt.

It was too much stimulation for your poor brain to cope with, the synapses crackling and shorting out entirely when the dam burst on your restraint.

Your head flew back, thighs trembling at the strength of the orgasm racking your body. That curiously long tongue prodded and poked at your engorged front wall with careful precision, forcing you to ride out the high without a moment to catch your breath.

Without thinking you had risen to your knees, taking the weight off Kafka’s face and allowing him to speak for the first time since you had settled yourself over his eager face.

“Sit,” he said with annoyed huff, swatting at your backside lightly.

“Hey! I’m heavy, just giving you a moment to come up for air. Let me just move a little so I can brace myself some more,” you countered, shuffling back towards the headboard to spread your weight and leverage yourself better.

That was when it happened again.

His hands had travelled from your thighs to your backside and up to your hips then waist. They went from roughly calloused fingers and warm broad palms to long clawed fingers and scaly palms.

“I said… sit.”

Kafka was rarely demanding but the authority in his gravel-laced tone forced your eyes to widen and your pussy to flutter and drip. Sharply tipped claws bit into your skin, just the right side of pain, and forced you down onto his face once more.

You squirmed; moaning wantonly at how turned on you were by both his loss of control of the instincts running rampant in his mind and the skilful precision that he could keep the transformation controlled and limited to where he wanted it.

There was no room left for argument as the whole of your weight spread across him. This time his lips smacked wetly at your pretty puckering hole before moving to suckle around your already abused clit.

Your eyes were glued to the kaiju hands holding you in place. He could tear you apart with those dangerous claws but the care in which he demonstrated had your heart pounding all over again.

Yes, a monster dwelled within him, but this was Kafka Hibino. Your Kafka, the man you entrusted with your safety and your heart. You loved him and the otherworldly presence inside.

Carefully you let go of your useless grip of the headboard, running the pads of your fingertips across the rough scales and towards the smooth skin at his wrists. You gently touched the tips of his claws, gasping when they kneaded into your plush skin like a cat making biscuits.

“Fuck, Kafka…” You whined and bucked, hips working into a rhythm with his help so you were riding his face with fervour. “I’m gonna lose it!”

“Do it,” he rasped, sounding drunk and giddy. “Wet my face, baby. Need it. Need it so fuckin’ bad. Then you’re gonna take my cock, right? My good girl is gonna sit right on my dick and ride it like you’re doing to my face. Wanna watch your tits bounce… fuck. I’m too close.”

He was babbling, totally intoxicated by your cunt, but the words only heightened your pleasure and careened you towards the edge of oblivion.

You had never squirted from oral before, not until that very moment. The warm gush took you by surprise, but Kafka was ready. The freakishly long tongue returned to catch as much as possible, lapping at your swollen folds from end to end whilst his strong hands held you steady.

“You’re so good to me. Taste like heaven… could drown in your juices. Fuck, I love you.”

That was the first time Kafka partially transformed in bed… it was not the last!

[teecupangel]

Little Idea I had!

Desmond ends up in Kassandra/Alexios’s time

The difference between eagle vision and actual seeing through an eagles eyes would be a fun thing to explore. They could be related? Desmond and Kassandra/Alexios, not sure what side of the family they’d be on

How would Socrates and the other Philosophers react to Desmond? A man(?) with knowledge so far in the future. How would it affect Kassandra/Alexios knowing their family lasted so long?

As far as we know (if we take canon in consideration which we totally don’t have to), Kassandra’s only known descendant is Aya and Aya never had any other children after Khemu’s death.

So I propose we go down the Alexios as Deimos route for this one.

Just a one night stand that Alexios doesn’t even remember. They don’t even realize they’re related until some POE springs up and only Alexios (as Deimos) should be able to use it but Desmond can use it too. A member of the Order of the Ancients gave the downlow and explain that they must share the same blood.

And Kassandra not being able to activate it meant that it’s a more complicated blood ties between Alexios and Desmond. Desmond immediately realized that it’s probably because Alexios is his ancestor but he’s not going to tell anyone that.

As for the philosophers… to be honest, they’d probably wonder if Desmond is an oracle of one of the gods, perhaps even Apollo.

Desmond snarks that, if he was going to be an oracle, it would be of Athena (he was sarcastically talking about his connection to Minerva).

Unfortunately for him, this leads people (not really the philosophers but the other people who heard him) into thinking that he’s an oracle of Athena.

And that’s how Desmond gets suckered into the political landscape of Athens, much to his displeasure.

It doesn’t help that he didn’t exactly know any concrete events that will happen around this time to cement the rumors that he can see the future.

The Farm never considered the history of Ancient Greece as important considering Abstergo was a more looming danger in their daily lives.

Hell, the only thing he actually remembers about Ancient Greece is the movie 300 and that event (even if it’s not that accurate to the real thing) was already ‘done’.

But what makes Desmond a possible oracle is his ideas.

Inventions he cannot describe in detail and speaking in riddles like every damn oracle out there (he’s not speaking in riddles, he’s using words that doesn’t exist yet so he has to improvise his explanations) but the ideas he gives are ones that no one would have thought of before.

And that is why Desmond might be the oracle of Athena.

[isalisewrites]

TERRIBLE, BUT GREAT - CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

SUMMARY:

“Harry Potter.”

The cold burrowed into his flesh, the scent of cloying death and molding earth clogged his senses.

“The Boy Who Lived.”

A strange sense of loss and disappointment rose within him. That brilliant, yet cruel boy could’ve been so much more if he’d not stepped down this bloodied path.

Terrible, but great. He pitied this creature.

“Come to die.”

Harry Potter faced the flash of green light with the bravery of a Gryffindor and the broken heart of a Hufflepuff.

—

When Death gives Harry a third option, one that can save everyone he ever cared about, he takes it unflinchingly. Even when that means doing the impossible: falling in love with the enemy, Tom Riddle.

—

FORTY-SIX EXCERPT:

If he couldn’t focus in class, Tom threw himself into a different project: patronus forms. At the risk of embarrassing himself, he dragged Harry along to the library with the insistence of finding some answers. Thankfully, with his brain wholly focused on the topic and trying to understand why a patronus would change forms, his body didn’t have the space to react to every little word and gesture from Harry.

Thank Salazar for small mercies.

“Is this really necessary?” asked Harry, closing the book he’d been flipping through and switching to a new one. “We don’t have to figure out the answer.”

Tom scoffed. “Aren’t you curious? Has your patronus ever changed form before?”

“No,” muttered Harry.

“So, something has changed. Did you use a different memory or feeling?”

Harry turned his head away and avoided Tom’s gaze. “Not particularly, no,” he said lightly. Tom paused, noting something odd in his tone. Tension rolled off Harry’s shoulders and the color deepened in his ears.

“Perhaps, one’s patronus changes form as they mature,” said Tom, watching for any shift in Harry’s body language.

“Perhaps.”

He’s hiding something again. Must everything be a mysterious secret with him? Even this?

“Your patronus was a stag. Did you know the significance of its form?”

The stiffness in Harry’s body softened. He nodded. “My father. He was an animagus and a stag was his form.”

Interesting. So, a patronus took the form of what held emotional significance to its castor. Would that mean something else has overtaken emotional significance in Harry’s life?

Tom’s first thought went to the Scamanders. Newt and Tina had slipped into both of their lives and, much to Tom’s reluctance to admit, they held some place there. Newt and Tina were getting oddly affectionate with them, too. Though Christmas had been a lot to handle, he’d rather enjoyed it. Perhaps, the experience had been more significant to Harry. But Tom wouldn’t have attributed a magpie to either Newt or Tina, especially if the form was meant to represent someone important.

“I wonder what the significance of a magpie is,” said Tom, keeping his tone light and innocent. Harry stiffened up once more.

He knows why.

Harry shrugged and let out an awkward laugh. “Who knows?”

Tom reached out and grabbed him by the chin. Harry jolted. Tom tugged at his face, forcing Harry to look at him. Harry met his gaze, expression grim, lips thinned, and those eyes pleaded with him once more—pleaded with Tom to not ask.

“You’re so quick to keep secrets,” murmured Tom.

What are you hiding? How deep does it go? Why do you hold yourself back from me?

Harry’s breath stuttered. “Tom—”

“Is it really so bad that you can’t tell me?” whispered Tom.

“It’s not bad—I swear—”

“But you won’t tell me why it changed.”

“It’s…” Harry sucked in his breath, his gaze dropping. “It’s personal.”

Tom instantly let him go. He frowned at the twisting, churning feeling in his stomach. “Oh?”

“A patronus form is personal, but when it changes form… that’s even more personal and…”

“Very well,” said Tom, tone clipped, closing the book in front of himself. Discomfort coiled in his gut. An odd, irrational need for distance from Harry crept inside his heart. “I suppose this has been a colossal waste of time.”

The urge to be alone overwhelmed his senses. He abruptly stood.

“Perhaps, we ought to study separately.”

He made to leave, but a hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist. Tom halted, hating how he didn’t dislike it, hating how much he wouldn’t mind it if Harry held him for longer, and slowly turned back to look at him.

“When you can cast a fully corporal patronus,” said Harry, a serious light in his eyes. “I’ll tell you why mine changed.”

[cosette141]

You, Me, and Who You Used to Be | CS Fic (CSSS 2024 Gift for BelovedCreation)

Merry Christmas!!

I'm your Santa this year!! :) 🎄🎄

Using your prompts of pining, Enchanted Forest, and angst with a happy ending, I give you:

Summary: (CS movie divergence) After getting her parents back on track, Emma’s magic returns. But before she can conjure a portal home, Killian is abducted. Alone in a world she knows nothing about and with no idea how to find Killian, Emma enlists the only person—or rather, pirate—who would be as motivated to save Killian as she is. However… Killian’s past may just be what destroys the future. CS

AO3

Words (so far): 5k+

NOTE: This is currently only the first chapter of this fic - long story short, the fic I spent weeks on just was not coming together, so I last minute changed to this one. It was an idea I had written the beginning of years ago that I remembered when I was trying to find something to align with the prompts you gave me :D so I knew it would be perfect to write for your gift!! I spent the past week working super hard on this trying to get it finished for you in time, but it was getting so rushed and you do not deserve a rushed gift!! So I decided to give you the first 5k words now, and I'll be updating it with the rest over the coming weeks! :)

Chapter One (under the cut!)

A/N: Story context: This is a canon divergence of the CS movie, which begins right after Emma gets the wand from Rumplestiltskin. (He does not send him to his vault of do-not-touch things in this version tho. We’ll pretend Elsa gets to Storybrooke some other way lol. I’ll also be ignoring Marian, which, the show pretty much did when it just ended up being Zelena anyway lol. 

Emma smiled at the faintly glowing wand in her fingers, feeling the warmth of the return of her magic, lighting a glow in the vast dining room of Rumplestiltskin’s castle. 

Everything was back on track.

Including herself.

Perhaps she had been trying to take the easy way out, blocking her magic from returning so she could go back to New York with no ties left behind. 

But more than anything, it was Killian’s smile now that made the warmth inside her grow even more, and if it wasn’t her imagination, made the wand spark a little brighter.

“It works,” whispered Emma, staring at the wand in awe, eyes snapping to Killian. “My magic is back!”

“I knew you could do it, love.” said Killian softly, a relief in his eyes, like it was for both the possibility of getting back home, and for the fact that he still blamed himself for her powers being taken in the first place. 

“Ah, the Savior, of course,” murmured Rumplestiltskin from his perch on the edge of his dining table. “I should have known you would have magic of your own.”

Emma suddenly realized just how much Rumplestiltskin knew. “Is it a problem that you know…?”

“It would be,” he agreed, but lifted his hand, where a potion bottle materialized. “However, I have spent the past few hours mixing myself a Forgetting Potion.”

Emma smiled. “Good. Well, let’s do this, then.” She then lifted the wand, about to attempt to bring forth the time portal.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Rumplestiltskin, jumping down and pushing her hand with the wand down. “Not in here. You might bring any number of my possessions with you.”

Emma winced, eyes finding the myriad of scary-looking things in the castle, wondering just how catastrophic that could be. 

She looked from Killian’s raised eyebrow to Rumplestiltskin. “So where do we—“

But not a second later, Rumplestiltskin’s castle was gone, and suddenly they were outside. Trees, greenery and blue sky replaced the walls of the Dark One’s abode. They weren’t too far from the town below, and not far off was the sea. But they were in an empty enough area of the forest that no one should see anything, and nothing should come with them.

 “Well,” said Killian, giving her another smile, “ready, there, Swan?”

Emma nodded. She lifted the wand again, concentrating on her magic, on the emotion in her chest, bright and raw. The tiny flicker of a portal, like a zipper drawn in the very fabric of the air, appeared before them. 

Killian grinned. “That’s it, lo—” 

He was cut off with a grunt, and Emma’s eyes snapped to him, her concentration broken and the tiny beginnings of the portal fizzled back out of existence. 

Emma’s heart stopped. 

They were no longer alone. 

A burly, muscled man had his arm around Killian’s neck in a chokehold, his other arm pinning Killian’s left arm to his side. Killian let out an angry, surprised snarl, jerking hard against the grip. 

“Hook!” cried Emma, jamming the wand in her back pocket to hide it and running toward him, only skidding to a stop when three other thugs suddenly flanked the first.

“Sw—“ began Killian, his right hand scrabbling at the hold around his neck, but his airway was quickly cut off. Red rushed to his face, and Emma’s heart froze.

“Sorry, darlin’,” said the man’s raspy voice. “We got direct orders to bring Captain Hook in. He stole from us last night, and now he gon’ pay. Pretty stupid to show yer face in the open like this, without yer crew, no less.” A dark chuckle. “Shoulda sailed away when he had the chance.” To someone behind him, he shouted, “Lucky catch, men!”

Killian struggled against them, something angry and feral, landing a blow to the man's gut. The man growled and stumbled, and Killian reared back to hit him again until the man snapped, “Stop fightin’ or the wench dies!” That made Killian freeze, staring at her with icy horror. 

For a moment, Emma and Killian stared at each other, and it felt like time stood still.

Panic rushed through Emma's chest.

Magic.

Magic.

But she had no idea how to use her magic.

And if she took even a step forward, she'd get a sword through her in seconds.

Killian grunted as a second thug grabbed him on his other side, ripping Killian's sword from his sheath.

Panic rose even sharper in Emma's chest.

Killian swallowed, eyes locked onto her. “Go—home,” Killian managed, his eyes pleading and broken, with something in them that looked like goodbye, only making Emma’s eyes burn. 

“Hook—!” breathed Emma, running for him, but froze when three swords pointed in her direction, so close to her it made her stumble back, falling to the ground.

And by the time she made it back to her feet, they were gone.

-.-.-.

Dark had fallen.

The air had chilled. 

But none of it gave her the cold dread inside her chest. 

She’d searched for hours.

But those men obviously knew this forest better than she did, and it was easy to get lost in it. 

Too easy.

She let them take him.

Emma kicked herself.

She should have done something.

She should have done something.

She should have been spending all the time back in Storybrooke learning magic instead of shoving it away.

Because now Killian was gone, and it was all her fault.

She got them stuck in the past.

She was the reason Killian stopped trying to free himself from those bastards.

She was the reason that they may never see each other again.

Emma couldn’t stop seeing his eyes. 

The resignation.

The defeat. 

The horrible, utter sadness.

She was now alone, and she’d never felt this alone in her entire life. 

It was one thing to grow up being alone. 

And it was another thing entirely to find people, to fall for people, and to have them ripped from you.

It was an entirely different thing to know what it felt like to not be alone.

And ever since meeting Killian, more or less after he decided to become a part of something , he’d been practically glued to her side. He’d voluntarily gone back to the land he hated more than anywhere, he’d given up his revenge, he’d found her in freaking New York City —an endeavor Emma still didn’t know how he managed to do—and how he managed to find her in a world he knew hardly anything about?

Emma stopped on the path, feeling the chill of the air. 

Even the air felt different in the Enchanted Forest. It felt… unearthly, which, wasn’t exactly off point. The magic in the land seemed to crackle like a charged atmosphere. The animal sounds, the nightly coos and caws were different, and all this different was unsettling and…

She really, really didn’t want to admit she was scared. 

But Emma didn’t have Mary Margaret with her this time. She didn’t have a princess squad to help her through. And, she didn’t have Hook.

Killian, who was god knew where. 

He might even already be—

No , said a firm voice in her head, trying to quell the hair that raised on the back of her neck at the thought. They wouldn’t have kidnapped him if they were going to be quick about it. 

The idea of him suffering at all…

Emma swallowed, hard, trying to shove down the rush of panic that shook her fingers.

How the hell was she supposed to find him?

She was a complete outsider. 

She not only wasn’t from this town, she wasn’t from this world , and she wasn’t from this time, not by a long shot. 

She was trapped thirty years in the past, and Killian could be anywhere. 

“Go home.”

Emma shut her eyes at Killian’s echo.

Go home.

He wanted her to go home.

He wanted her to leave him here, conjure the portal, and go home.

The very fact that he thought she would made her chest hurt, because how could he think she’d leave him here?

But…

“You really thought I’d let you drown?”

“Given our history, can you blame me for being uncertain? ”

Here she was thinking how he could possibly think she didn’t care about him, when…

“Do you even care about them? Or anyone in this town?”

He said anyone.

He meant me.

And replaying it all, how could she think he’d know she did?

All she’s done since he saved her in New York, was walk away from him.

But she did care.

She more than cared.

And now, she may never —

No.

Emma opened her eyes, ignoring the burn in them.

Determination set into her face, Emma made up her mind without hesitation. 

There was no way she was leaving here without Killian.

The thought of returning to life without him, living without him…

It felt wrong. 

Something about him in her life just made sense. Even now, she felt like something was missing, and suddenly she was wondering how she ever considered leaving her family, leaving him, to go back to New York. 

“Go home.”

She couldn’t go home when he already became her home.

But… 

How on earth—or, how in the Enchanted Forest—was she supposed to find him?

And before they did something terrible and irreversible to him?

“He stole from us last night. Now he’s gon' pay.”

Emma blinked. 

Killian didn’t steal anything from anyone; she knew he hadn’t. He’d been too concerned with messing up the time continuum.

He hadn’t stolen.

But Emma had a pretty good feeling who had.

And Killian was currently paying for his crime. 

Emma smiled grimly, a plan unfolding in her head. 

She started walking, faster this time.

She just hoped the Jolly Roger was still in port. 

-.-.-.

Emma clung to the shadows when she entered the town. 

Thanks to Rumplestiltskin returning her clothes, she was no longer wearing the ragged dress and cloak that they had stolen, and was back in her jeans and leather jacket. Something that, Killian’s voice reminded her, hasn’t come into vogue, ever. So… she had to be careful. They just fixed the timeline; they cannot ruin it all over again.

But Killian was worth that risk.

As she clung to the dark areas of town, Emma was reminded of a younger her, living on the streets, dodging shadowy corners to pitch black alleyways. It was evening, the sky blackening with an array of stars, but the town still bustled with life, mostly around the taverns. 

Emma passed the tavern she and Killian had found his past-self in, and Emma risked a look inside, but he wasn’t there. 

Her heart quickening, Emma suddenly worried he wasn’t even in town.

She picked up her pace, following the path past-Hook had led her down when he’d been her inebriated guide. 

Emma emerged from the cover of an alley, looking up to see the sea, and ships of all sizes moored at the docks. And among them—

Emma felt relief flood her. 

The Jolly Roger. 

She smiled despite herself, picking up her pace. As she got closer, she could see the crew retracting the anchor—

They were leaving. 

Her heart pounding, Emma began to sprint. 

With grunts of heaving, two members of the Jolly’s crew were lifting the gangplank.

It was halfway up when Emma got to it, flinging herself off the dock and onto it, barely making the jump. She slid down the wood, landing in a heap on the deck. 

“What in the blazes—?!”

The two men nearly dropped the gangplank, but managed to finish shutting it, faster, as if worrying that someone else was going to attempt Emma’s jump. 

Her entire body throbbing from the mistreatment, Emma slowly picked herself up from the deck. She quickly noticed at least a dozen pirates were staring at her in shock. 

But a voice broke through the din, and Emma would recognize it anywhere. 

“Well, you don’t bloody see something like that every day.”

-.-.-.

Despite her protests, Emma had been manhandled by two of the crew members and dragged into the Captain’s Quarters a moment after she’d seen him. He’d witnessed her reckless jump onto his ship, but hadn’t said a word to her yet. 

She was currently in the chair opposite his desk, two burly hands on her shoulders keeping her pinned down, and Hook was in his chair behind the desk, staring at her in silence. 

“What are you doing aboard my ship?” he said finally. 

Emma flicked her eyes to the pirate holding her down, then back to Hook. “I’ll tell you, but only you.”

Hook sighed, then flicked his eyes to the man behind her, giving a minute nod and a slight roll of his eyes. Then, when the door clicked shut, he gave her a pointed look.

Emma let out a breath, her heart beating in a frenzy. This Hook was not half as drunk as he was when they last met. His gaze on her was cold and measured and there was no trace of the softness Killian had now. It unnerved her, this air of danger he held, sitting before her. Waiting. 

But Emma swallowed, trying to remember, this is still Killian. Just… buried under two hundred years of pain and resentment. 

It didn’t make her feel better. 

“I need your help.” said Emma at last, holding his gaze. 

His brow lifted, like that was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “My help?” he echoed, lips twisting a little in amusement. “I’m a pirate captain, lass. You’ve mistaken me for someone who gives. Pirates take.”

Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the irony that all he’s done the past two years was give. 

Worry fluttered in her stomach, suddenly wondering if her Killian was all right.

And when did he start being ‘her’ Killian?

Emma let out another breath. “Yeah, that’s actually what brings me here. All I need to know,” said Emma slowly, “is who you stole from last night.” 

She’d thought it through; if she could just get the name or the place of the person who he’d stolen from, she could go find Killian without Hook ever needing to know she was from the future. 

Hook paused. 

Suspicion suddenly gleamed in his eyes. 

He stood, and rounded his desk until he was standing before her. 

The suspicion only deepened in his eyes.

Emma could feel the danger radiate off him like a cologne. 

She was trying not to shrink under his intense gaze when he leaned even closer, his face inches from hers. He searched her eyes.

“You,” he whispered. “I remember you.”

Emma’s heart skipped. “You do?” she breathed. 

She should have known it was irrational to think he meant he remembered knowing her. 

Because his eyes narrowed, coldness in the blue. “You owe me a nightcap, love.”

Emma froze. “Oh,” she said, biting her lip. “Didn’t blame the rum, huh?”

He leaned back slightly, but looked no less predatory. “I’m guessing this is from you as well,” he said, brushing the metal of his hook to his cheek where Killian had hit him. 

Emma winced. “Not exactly—“

He was suddenly in her face again, eyes narrowed, colder than ice. “You were trying to get me drunk. To get on my ship,” he muttered. “Why?”

Oops.

Emma tried to think fast. 

She did not like a version of Killian that scared her, and this one did exactly that. 

As if to prove the point, he raised his hook, tracing her jaw until the tip was underneath her chin, forcing her head up. Emma gasped reflexively, suddenly realizing how bad of an idea this had been. “Tell me,” he hissed, “or this will be rather unpleasant.”

Emma swallowed, trying to stem the rush of fear. To hell with the timeline. “I’m from the future.”

His brow rose sharply, surprise and a little confusion slipping into that cold expression. Clearly time travel was not one of the things he’d expected her to say. 

It was the second time she’d surprised him, and Emma knew he wasn’t an easily surprised man.

Before he could interrupt, she went on, wincing as the sharp tip of his hook stung. “I’m telling you the truth,” she said quickly, fear sending a shiver down her spine. “I’m from… about thirty years in the future. I think. It’s really hard to keep track with all the curses," she finished, which even to her ears sounded like she was crazy.

“Time travel is unheard of.” said Hook, dismissing her whole story.

"You spend two hundred years on an island where time doesn't even exist and this is too crazy for you to imagine?" snapped Emma exasperatedly.

He ignored her. “Now, what are you really doing on my ship? Clearly if you’d gotten what you wanted, you wouldn’t have been daft enough to return.” His eyes looked her up and down, his brow lifting when his eyes reached hers, and Emma glared at him. “And if I had gotten what I wanted, that night would not have ended with you injuring me.” A cold smile. “Well, not in the traditional way, anyway.”

Emma huffed out a breath, almost forgetting just how innuendo-clad he once was. “Look, I’m telling the truth . I need your help to—“ She gasped, the tip of his hook digging slightly deeper. 

“You will tell me what I want to know,” said Hook quietly. He removed his namesake, and Emma winced. “I’ll give you the night to think it over. Lie to me again," his voice lowering, dipping into the personification of danger as his gaze bored into hers, and she tried not to shrink under it, "you’ll be walking the plank in the morning.” He moved away from her, and Emma realized she'd forgotten how to breathe.

“Hook—“ began Emma, but Hook simply barked, “Jenkins!”

The door opened, and one of the men who had dragged her down here walked inside. 

“Take her to the brig.”

Emma’s heart pounded. “No— Hook,” she said quickly as he sat nonchalantly back at his desk. “I need—“

Emma was grabbed from behind and forced out. 

He didn’t look up as they took her. 

But when he thought she was out of sight, she saw him briefly touch his fingers to his lips, something unreadable stirring in his eyes.

-.-.-.-.

Emma waited until she was left alone, and the ship had quieted down enough to suggest the crew was asleep.

They’d bound her hands in front of her, which was their first mistake. 

Feeling a sense of deja vu, Emma felt along the ground until she found something useful. Finding something sharp and thin enough to work, she quickly got to work on the lock to the cage. 

The trouble was opening the door without it creaking, which took her plenty of precious minutes. 

Once free, she left the brig, and quietly made her way to the armory.

It was good that she was familiar with the ship after Neverland. Plenty of hours on the water had her nervous energy getting the better of herself and she’d done some extensive exploring. She’d paced the ship enough to know where its creaky boards were, so she was inside the armory in silence quickly. 

Emma grabbed the first blade she could find—a knife—and freed her hands, then took the gag from her mouth. 

Gripping the knife in her shaking hands, Emma left the armory, walking down the hallway to the door at the very end. 

The Captain’s Quarters. 

Feeling plenty of uncertainty, but needing to know where Killian was, Emma slowly reached for the door handle, glad the ridiculously loud chorus of snoring from the crew covered much of the noise she made. 

Slowly and without breathing, she opened his door. 

Emma shut it just as quietly, and the noise of the snoring was muted. 

Emma turned. 

The cabin was dark. 

And there, lying on his bed, was Hook. Asleep.

She could see him breathe beneath the blanket. 

Carefully, and avoiding every creak in the floor she knew of, Emma crept up to his bed. 

Then, she held the knife an inch from his throat, opening her mouth to wake him.

“Do I need to explain what a nightcap is to you?”

Emma jumped a mile in her skin.

Hook’s eyes were open, and he looked from the knife at his throat to Emma. A raised brow, he deadpanned, “You escaped.”

“You underestimated me.” she countered. He lifted his brow as Emma continued firmly, “I need you to help me.”

“Help me?” he echoed. His eyes flicked from the knife to her eyes. “You’re taking your life in your hands threatening me, lass.” he said dangerously.

“I’m trying to save your life!” snapped Emma.

His brow hitched higher, again flicking his eyes pointedly to the blade, then back at her. 

Emma sighed, removing the knife from his throat. 

He still didn’t move, eyeing her still suspiciously. “How is it you think you’re saving me?” he asked. 

Emma sighed shortly. “Look. I told you I was from the future. I am. I’m from your future. And I didn’t get sent to the past alone.” She took a breath, hoping telling him wouldn’t implode the timeline. But she was scared, she was alone, and without his information, she would never be able to find Killian. She could only hope that after she saved Killian, he’d still exist when they returned to their time. 

Emma sighed. “When I got sent here, you came with me.” she said finally.

Confusion kneaded his brows with honest puzzlement, and for the first time he looked almost like her Killian. “I… what?” he managed.

Emma sighed shortly. “You— future you,” clarified Emma. “You’re here, in the past, too.”

Hook looked lost in thought for a second. Then— “That was bloody real?”

“What was?” asked Emma.

He sat up, regarding her with both suspicion and shock. “The dream I thought I had of you, up until you foolishly returned.” Emma glared at him flatly as he went on, “I saw…”

“Yourself,” finished Emma impatiently. “Yeah. You punched yourself.” At his very perplexed expression, she went on, “I told him—you—it was a bad idea. So, blame yourself.” He blinked in utter confusion. But, at least, he seemed to believe her story. “Look,” said Emma, “we were on our way back to the future when some huge guys kidnapped him because they said he stole something and he needed to ‘pay for it’.” she finished in a bad facsimile of Killian’s abductor’s voice. Her eyes burning into Hook’s, she said, “What did you steal? Who are they and where did they take him?”

“You’re telling me,” said Hook slowly, “that there is a future version of me out here?”

“Yes,” said Emma through gritted teeth. “Now what did you—“

“Tell me, love,” said Hook casually enough, though the coldness in his words was back. “What is my future?”

“I can’t tell you that,” she said exasperatedly. “Already I need to get you a Forgetting Potion to make sure you get to that future.”

He stared at her for a long moment, a million things happening behind guarded eyes. But finally, his brow lifted a fraction. “And I’m just supposed to believe this?" 

Emma groaned. “What proof do you want?” she said impatiently. “Your father abandoned you and Liam; you used to be in the Royal Navy; you became a pirate after what happened to Liam in Neverland; you’re currently on a suicidal mission to kill Rumplestiltskin for taking your hand and Mila—“

“Stop!” 

Emma froze, having been angrily ticking off the trivia on her fingers, to see Hook’s eyes with more emotion than she’s seen from this version of him yet. 

“How do you know all that?” he breathed. For once, his voice lost Hook’s edge, and he sounded like Killian. The danger evaporated from him in seconds, replaced with something almost... lost. “It’s—it's been centuries since—"

“You told me.” said Emma simply. 

“I… told you,” repeated Hook flatly, words rolling off his tongue like something foreign. The edge in his voice swiftly returned as he demanded angrily, “And why the bloody hell would I do that?” 

“How should I know?” snapped Emma, her anxiety getting to her and sharpening her own tone.

He rose to his feet, and Emma did not like the feeling that he was attempting to use his height over hers to intimidate her. He leveled a look at her, with something different in his eyes, something dangerous in a new way. “Tell me one thing, lass," he began, voice casual-sounding, but underlined with something that sent a shiver down her spine, "and maybe I help you.”

“Why wouldn’t you help me?” exclaimed Emma, standing her ground. “You’d be helping you!”

“That remains to be seen.” He stepped toward her, and damn it he didn’t even need the hook to be imposing. “Tell me, lass.” Another step, and Emma felt her back hit the wall, not even realizing she’d been retreating. His gaze bored into hers. “Do I get my revenge?”

Emma swallowed, suddenly feeling a familiar sense of dread as to when the past version of Rumplestiltskin had asked about whether or not he found Neal.

When the silence spread a little too long, she whispered, “Hook—”

“Do I, or not?” he demanded, voice clipped. Cold.

Dangerous.

Emma felt paralyzed.

The Hook—the Killian —standing before her was completely hellbent on getting his revenge. He’s been at it for centuries, and the anger and pain in his eyes overpowered the blue in them, so much so it was hard to remember that Killian and Hook were the same person.

And here, Hook was his vengeance right now.

There was hardly a spark of him.

If she told him the truth, that he not only doesn’t kill his crocodile, but chooses to live peacefully in the same town as the monster? Gives up not only his quest for vengeance, but turns into a hero?

And worse yet, that he lets go of Milah?

For her?

From the amount of anger she’s eliciting from him right now, she doubted he’d be happy to know that information in particular.

So, she decided to tell him the truth.

Or…

Part of it.

“No,” she said finally, watching his brow shift dangerously. “Not yet.”

He searched her eyes, his face like stone. “Not yet?” he repeated, voice low, almost threatening.

Emma swallowed the fear slipping down her spine, hoping she was still as good of a liar as she once was. “Not yet,” she confirmed, which, still, wasn’t a complete lie. She took a breath, holding his gaze, preparing herself. 

And she lied.

“I’m helping you get your revenge in the future,” she said smoothly. “The Dark One is currently living in a realm without magic. He’s vulnerable. I’m helping you get there.” She swallowed, her entire body rigid. Hook was pin-silent as Emma finished, “We accidentally got sent to the past on our way there. That’s why I need you to help me. If you don’t, you will never get your revenge.”

Emma fell quiet, holding her head high, clinging onto confidence she didn’t feel in the slightest.

Killian could read her like an open book.

If this version of him was as perceptive as he comes to be…

If he found her lying to him…

Again …

Emma tried to ignore the fear prickling in her veins.

He held her gaze, pinning her to the spot with his eyes alone. Watching her eyes carefully, his narrowed. 

Finally, he said, “Why are you helping me?”

Emma tried not to flinch at the obvious distaste in his voice. She thought fast, and found something that held nothing but truth. “Because,” she said, “you did me a favor. I’m repaying a debt.”

His brow lifted. “Quite the debt.”

Emma felt something stir in her chest, thinking of all that Killian has done for her. “It was quite the favor,” she said quietly.

His brows kneaded with question, like he wasn’t sure why he would bother to do her a favor.

Emma was quickly becoming irritated with this version of Hook.

“How are you helping me?” he asked then, gaze boring into hers, almost as if he was trying to poke holes into her story to see if it would leak. “Why do I need you?”

It was spoken so carelessly.

And it hurt.

Emma was surprised at the sudden burn behind her eyes.

She’d brushed off Killian’s affections, his obvious devotion to her, more times than she could count. 

And here he was, looking at her like he couldn’t have cared about her less.

How could she have wasted all the time she had with him?

Getting him back now was the longest of long shots, for—and it made sharp fear race down her spine— he could already be dead.

Blinking away the emotion, Emma huffed out a breath, trying not to appear as hurt by his words as she was. “I’ve got Light Magic,” she snapped, making surprise lift his brow. “You’re trying to kill the Dark One. Do the math.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed, danger rolling off him in waves.

Finally, he spoke.

“I help you, and, him,” he muttered, uneasily over what to call his future self, “get back to your time,” he said slowly, “and then I will get what I want most?”

Emma felt the ghost of a smile touch her lips, for she didn’t have to lie for this one. “Yes.” 

He most definitely will. 

-.-.-.-. TBC

@belovedcreation-kitr-headcanon @cssecretsanta2020 @belovedcreation