#december twenty fifth

[merryfortune]

December Twenty-Fifth

Written for Ficwip Discord’s November 1000 Words Event

Title: December Twenty-Fifth

Ship: None

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Word Count: 1,000

Rating: T

Warning: None

Tags: Pre-Canon, Fluff, Christmas, Found Family, Presents, Surprises

   Waking up on December twenty-fifth, was meant to be like waking up on any other day.

   For Spectre anyway.

   Seven years old, he was full of wonder and curiosity but not for Christmastime. He didn’t enjoy fried food, he didn’t like mushy-gushy romantic comedy movies for adults. He had never celebrated Christmas at the orphanage prior. Not enough money to go around to give the children more than colouring-in sheets and maybe a store bought card.

   And so, that date on the calendar, remained innocuous and boring just like any other day. 

   Until now.

   “Tada. Do you like it?” Ryoken asked.

   He held Spectre’s hand, guiding him down the stairwells of the minimalist monstrosity which was the Kogami Mansion and yet… The sun room was a cacophony of festive spirit. It was kitsch and bright. Christmassy. Full of red and green amid the otherwise dreary, white walls and furnishings of the mansion. Wreaths hung up on the window panes, ribbons and sashes dashed through the room, fairy lights twinkled, and then there was the centrepiece: a fir tree which had yet to be decorated but was still accompanied by various presents.

   Five of them, Spectre counted.

   Spectre was dumbfounded as he was led into the sun room by Ryoken. Music which was whispered in a silvery voice played from a speaker, inviting them closer. The smell of breakfast was cooking nearby from the adjoining kitchen. He heard Aso’s voice call out good morning above the sound of sizzling eggs and bacon, a waft of maple syrup and something else sweet, too, like pancake batter.

   “Good morning, sleepyhead.” Kyoko teased Spectre as she and Dr. Genome waited by the tree.

   “Indeed, probably the first child in existence to wake up well after the sun has risen on Christmas Day.” Dr. Genome mused, stroking his chin.

   “Well, um…” Spectre fumbled to explain his circumstances but he found himself at a loss for words, he was staring at the tree.

   Both adults and Ryoken picking up exactly on his thoughts.

   “We wanted to surprise you since its our first Christmas together, do you like it?” Kyoko asked.

   “Yeah, it’s, um, really…” Spectre continued to fumble in his awe.

   “I thought it was a waste of time, personally,” Dr. Genome added coldly and yet, in his own way, knew exactly how to diffuse Spectre’s shyness, “we don’t normally celebrate Christmas but the soft-touches insisted. So, you better enjoy or there won’t be one next year.”

   Spectre giggled. Dr. Genome’s more abrasive nature always amused him. Kyoko rolled her eyes and gave him a playful nudge - or jab - to the side. That, too, part of the comedy routine and banter they found themselves in.

   “Ignore that grinch, you two.” Aso’s voice called out. “It is a pleasure to celebrate like that, heaven knows we need it.”

   Ryoken nodded, lips pursed, in agreement to Aso.

   “Do you want your present now or do you want to decorate the tree first?” Kyoko asked gently.

   “I get a present?!” Spectre exclaimed.

   “Of course. You're my best friend, of course you get a present.” Ryoken laughed.

   Spectre blushed, his tummy squirmed. “I want the present first.” he admitted in a tiny voice.

   “Alright, you two first. We’ll open ours after breakfast whilst you two decorate the tree.” Kyoko decided.

   “Here you go.” Dr. Genome said.

   He picked up a box and handed it to Spectre.

   The tactile feel of the glittery paper was unusual on Spectre’s hands as he carefully admired the box, the yellow and silver wrapping, the twirly white ribbon. He gulped, gave it a shake and tried to guess or imagine what might be inside but he failed. He had never been given a gift like this, wrapped up so nicely and with something completely brand new inside. It was a lot for the little pauper.

   Unlike the prince beside him.

   Ryoken, meanwhile, had no reverence for his present, tearing it open as soon as Kyoko handed it to him. It, too, was done up in the same paper and ribbons as Spectre’s but Ryoken was far more interested in what was inside to stop and admire the wrapping. The paper was clawed away, left in shreds that glittered on the floor as he revealed a toy which had some assembly required written on the box which featured an actor in a masked costume with plenty of pleather and latex.

   “No way! This is the sword from Ranger Powers!” Ryoken gasped. That was the name of a television series that Ryoken was obsessed with, a tokusatsu aimed at tweens and teenagers rather than nine year old’s like him. 

   Encouraged, Spectre opened his present slowly and his eyes twinkled as the wrapping gave way to a boxed toy of his own.

   “Pure Dandelion’s sceptre…” Spectre gasped as he recognised the magical girl anime weapon. He liked the anime a lot but had never dreamed he would ever see merchandise of it beyond strolls through a shopping mall with Kyoko or the others.

   “I’m sure you two will have lots of fun chasing each other and bad guys this afternoon with these.” Dr. Genome laughed.

   “Can’t wait!” Ryoken grinned.

   They had played similar games of chase and role-play using sticks so it would be nice to have something extra and more in-character to use. It would hopefully warm by the afternoon, too. Being on the beach, it didn’t snow but the chill of winter still pervaded outside the foggy windows of the sun room transformed into a cheery hearth.

   “M-Me too.” Spectre replied feebly, his heart racing out of his chest as he brimmed with gratitude.

   A pause, and then Aso’s voice, “Breakfast is ready.”

   Spectre smiled, mouth watering and holding dearly onto the plastic wand encased in cardboard. He glanced through the room again, finally seeing a box of decorations for the tree and his excitement heightened further. This was only his first Christmas but he already knew it was going to be the best Christmas ever.

[floridaboiler]

HAPPY KISS THE COOK DAY!!! The theme of the day says it all. Show your appreciation to those who have put a great Christmas dinner on the table with a loving kiss.

Source - https://mewe.com/p/bikinisummer

[storksummer]

[strixcattus]

I will buy and play Scarlet Hollow in ninety days and no fewer. Please do not spoil it in the meantime.

[naughtyjjk]

jjk men on the last day of no nut november

characters: nanami, geto, gojo, toji | fem x reader warnings: 18+, smut, dry humping, orgasm denial, tease, masturbation, dildo, creampie noo!! i meant to post this yesterday on nov 30 but i was really busy. anyway, here it is now. the scenario is: somehow, you and the jjk men have made it to the end of NNN. here's what happens just minutes before dec 1.

NANAMI...

he wants to complete this challenge fair and square. which means that it's 11:40 pm, twenty minutes before november ends, and he won't even let you touch him. he knows exactly how sensitive he is right now, how being deprived of sex this past month has affected him both mentally and physically. if he gives in even a little bit now, he won't be able to stop himself.

and he's so close to winning. only a few minutes away before it's december.

when you try to reach out to him for the fifth time tonight, nanami growls and grabs you by the wrist, pinning your arms above your head on the bed. he leans in to whisper by your ear, "no cheating."

the words make you shudder, only turning you on more as you feel his hot breath next to you. his voice is low and strained; he's holding himself back, too. somehow, that makes this whole situation even hotter.

you've both stripped down to only your undergarments: bra and panties for you, and boxers for nanami. this is the farthest he would let you go. if you took the next step, if you were completely naked, nanami is sure that he wouldn't be able to control himself.

"come on," you beg him. "it's almost time, anyway. we can—"

"no." nanami stands firm. "you wanted this, so we're going to do it properly."

groaning, you think about how it's so unfair. sure, you did suggest this challenge, but you didn't realize just how difficult it would be to avoid having sex for an entire month, how much hornier it would make you to have this restriction.

and it's not like nanami is unaffected, either. you see the way he's looking at you while his body hovers over yours, eyes wandering to where your bra cups your breasts, the smooth skin of your stomach. he wants it too, as badly as you do.

his boxers are tight, making his erection painfully obvious. it stretches against the fabric, wanting to break free from its confines, but nanami makes no move to pull out his cock.

he needs something, though—some stimulation even if it's not direct contact. through your clothes, nanami begins to grind against you, pushing your knees apart and dry humping you on the bed with quick rolls of his hips.

you moan brokenly when you feel his hard cock between your legs, pressed against your wet panties. even this is too much. he rocks back and forth, almost like he's already lost control of himself, rutting shamelessly into you.

you feel dizzy with arousal. you could come like this, if he keeps it up, especially with the way the tip of his cock is brushing past your clit, fuck, he's really going to make you come.

"ken—kento—o-oh my god—"

nanami's hips stutter as his rhythm falters, the pleasure building up for him, and he's almost there as well. his cock pulses in warning, brushing past your clit, a thin layer of clothing separating the two of you.

then—he stops suddenly, too soon, seconds before you're about to come. seconds before he's about to come, too. it leaves both of you right on the edge, denied of your orgasms, so fucking close to that sweet release, but unable to reach it.

"hah—hah—sh-shit—" nanami groans, voice low and raspy. he's still thrusting his hips a little, unable to resist his body's instinct, but never touching you again.

your pussy throbs. you're so wet and horny, panties all ruined, trying to pull him closer. "p-please, just—fuck me," you beg him. you need it so bad. "fuck me already—"

nanami's arms are tense as he holds himself up above you, pulling his hips away from yours. he's breathing hard, panting. his cock leaks precum, soaking his boxers and making a damp spot where the tip is. you can see him twitching, the fabric shifting with every movement of his cock.

fuck, you know that he's going to absolutely wreck you once midnight comes. you know he's been just dying to get his hard, aching cock inside you; to come as he moans in your ear and release a month's worth of pent-up sperm.

but for now, he only looks at the clock, clenches his jaw, and says, "ten more minutes."

.

GETO...

the two of you are sitting on opposite sides of the room, far enough that you can't act on the temptation of touching each other. but that doesn't stop either of you from touching yourselves.

"this is—fuck, this is a very dangerous game, angel..." suguru's eyes are dark and hungry, he drinks in the sight of you, naked, as your hands roam all over your own body.

you start with your breasts, massaging and squeezing them in your palms, circling around the sensitive nipples but not touching directly yet. getting yourself more and more aroused, body arching forward as you whine for more contact.

across from you, suguru is growing harder and harder by the second. his cock twitches and slowly fills out as he watches you tease yourself until it's standing proud, tall and stiff between his legs.

seeing it now, fully hard, is enough to turn you on, your pussy reacting to his arousal. you pinch your nipples between two fingers, gasping at the tingle of pleasure it sends throughout your body. "mm, suguru... your cock..."

he's touching himself too, holding his cock in a loose grip and stroking, masturbating along with you. he groans when your hands travel down your stomach, along your inner thighs, spreading your legs apart wide to expose your pussy.

"j-just imagine," you say, conjuring up the fantasy in your own mind as well. you use two fingers to circle your clit, unable to resist any longer, and moan at the feeling. "imagine your hard, aching cock sinking into my wet pussy. think about—ngh, fuck—my pussy clenching around you as you fill me up, stuffing me full with your cock. it'd feel so fucking good."

suguru is no doubt fantasizing about it too. his cock twitches, leaking more precum as he continues to pump himself. "fuck, you're such a naughty girl. once i get my hands on you—hah—i'll rub my cock against that pretty pussy of yours, let you feel how hard i am as i tease you until you're begging me to put it in."

whimpering, you feel yourself throb, getting wetter from his dirty words. "please—my pussy is ready for you, suguru." you spread your pussy lips apart, giving him a full view of your dripping cunt. "w-want you inside me already."

suguru groans in frustration, knowing that he can't have you yet. "god, me too. i wanna fuck you so bad."

it's too much; you need to feel something more, anything. reaching for the drawer next to you, you bring out one of your toys—if you can't have suguru yet, this will have to do for now.

"this could be your cock," you say, as you hold out a six-inch dildo and bring it to your lips. it's modelled to look like a real cock with thick veins along the sides. you kiss the tip of it, then trail down the shaft. "mm, you taste so good, suguru."

you lick the toy all over, flicking your tongue just under the crown. suguru inhales sharply, gaze darkening at the sight of you giving the dildo a blowjob. everything you do to it goes straight to his cock, as if he's feeling your mouth on him too.

swirling your tongue around the cockhead, you begin to part your lips, taking the dildo inch by inch into your mouth until the tip of it hits the back of your throat. then, you move—bobbing your head up and down, sucking on the toy while looking straight at suguru.

"f-fuck, yeah, take it." you hear suguru moan brokenly as he jerks himself off faster and faster, hips bucking upward into his fist. he looks so wrecked, chest heaving, his cock painfully hard and flushed a dark red. "take all of it—"

you moan around the toy, wishing that you had his cock in your mouth instead, wishing that you could feel his hardness and taste his precum; feel how he throbs from your actions, head thrown back when you swallow him down all the way.

after a while, you pull the dildo out of your mouth. suguru is squeezing the base of his cock, panting, too close to coming. he twitches once, twice, like he could burst at any minute.

you line up the dildo between your legs and rub it against your pussy, letting the cockhead brush past your entrance again and again. teasing yourself to feel the burning desire inside you grow even stronger. "s-suguru, i need you—need your cock—"

"christ, angel," suguru curses. his hand is moving again, stroking himself, unable to resist. you're both so turned on, so fucking horny that it feels unbearable. "fuck yourself with it. come on, show me what you really want."

at his command, you push the toy inside, crying out as it spreads you open and fills you up. you squirm on the spot as it bottoms out, hips circling around it to adjust to the sensation.

when you start to pull it back out, you moan, feeling it drag and drag and drag along your walls. you imagine that it's suguru there instead of the dildo—his hot, throbbing cock penetrating you repeatedly.

you tilt the toy a bit, aiming upward, and the effect is instantaneous: pleasure bursts all throughout your body as it stimulates your g-spot, thighs trembling from how fucking good it feels. "o-oh my god—suguru—"

and it's addicting; you can't stop aiming there now that you've found the spot. you get closer and closer with every thrust, orgasm building up at an alarming speed.

"t-take it out," suguru rasps. "you're only allowed to come from my cock."

fuck. your pussy throbs in protest as you reluctantly pull the dildo out, instantly feeling how empty it leaves you. suguru is still stroking himself, much more desperate now, his thick cock disappearing and reappearing into his own fist, slick and wet with precum.

you want him so fucking bad.

only five more minutes to go. the longest five minutes of your life.

.

GOJO...

he's not exactly fucking you yet, but what he is doing is sliding his rock hard cock up and down your pussy, rutting against you like he's been deprived of any contact. which is true—he's been deprived for a whole month. a whole month! god, he's so damn horny he can hardly think straight. he has no idea how he managed to hold off for this long.

but that's why, with only a few minutes before no nut november is over, he lets loose a little. the anticipation has been absolutely killing him; he's going to come harder than he ever has before. and he can't deny himself any longer, not when you're right there, lying on the bed and tempting him with your body.

"i can't—i can't stop my hips," satoru grunts, grinding against you faster and faster. he's losing control entirely, almost animalistic in the way he's moving on pure instinct, chasing after nothing but pleasure. "oh—oh fuck, baby, i need—"

every time his hard, throbbing cock brushes past your clit, you cry out, bucking up into him. you're just as far gone; a month without sex has made you so fucking desperate for it. "ah—! s-satoru, please—"

how is it still not midnight yet? how much longer do both of you have to endure this? shit, you don't know how much more you can take. a few minutes ago, you set an alarm to ring as soon as november ends, but it feels like hours and it still hasn't gone off.

and then—satoru's cock catches on your pussy, slides into you a little, no more than an inch. no more than just the tip. but it makes both of you gasp and moan—moan so loud that you're sure the neighbours could hear you. but you don't care.

satoru quickly pulls out before either of you get too close, his cock resting on your pussy now. you can feel him hot and throbbing, about to burst at any moment. your pussy throbs, too, both of you pulsing against each other, begging to feel it again.

but no matter what, you can't come yet. fuck. fuck.

still, you buck up helplessly and say, "a-again. do it again. please."

not even a second later, satoru has his cock lined up by your entrance, panting as he forces himself to go slow. his cockhead sinks into you and you clamp down on him, refusing to let him go. your back arches, moans falling from your lips as his cock stretches you open.

satoru pulls out, then pushes in again. out, in. out, in. over and over—the shallowest, most torturous thrusts you've ever experienced. but it's all you can take now, both of you dangerously close to the edge for anything more. if he thrusts into you all the way, the full length of his hard cock filling you up, you'd come for sure. just the thought of satoru fucking you properly, fucking you deep, gets you so aroused that it makes you dizzy.

"feels—hah—feels too good," satoru grunts, picking up the pace. he's losing himself to the pleasure again, hips moving uncontrollably. "ngh, shit, too fucking good. i can't—i'm not going to last—f-fuck—"

BRIIING! the alarm goes off.

you both pause, looking at each other. it's 12:00 am exactly. december 1st.

satoru snaps. without warning, without any more delays, he plunges his cock into you, bottoming out deep inside you. the two of you moan at the same time, and then he's fucking you, pounding his cock with urgency and desperation and a month's worth of being denied.

there's no time to catch your breath. you can feel satoru's cock hitting you fast and deep, filling you up, throbbing hot against your walls. he's panting into the crook of your neck, sucking on the smooth skin there. both hands flick at your nipples, playing with the hardened nubs, applying just enough pressure to make you arch into his touch. it's all overwhelming; you feel pleasure throughout your whole body, orgasm approaching fast.

when you clench around satoru with his hard cock buried deep inside you, his pace falters. he chokes out a moan and it sounds so wrecked, so arousing. you moan, too. you're both so fucking close.

"coming, coming, c-coming—"

.

TOJI...

throughout the month, as the days went by, toji has become more and more cranky. it's obvious that the challenge is really getting to him, putting him in a bad mood no matter what he's doing, and he's never abstained from sex for this long before. never been sexually frustrated to this degree.

there's so much tension between the two of you, and it's only a matter of time before someone snaps.

about a week in, toji starts to work out a lot more, mostly as a distraction. even at home, he's constantly doing different exercises—push ups, sit ups, planks, bicep curls, squats. not that you're complaining, of course. it gives you the opportunity to see him shirtless, to see his toned body glistening with sweat after every session.

as a distraction, though, it doesn't always work. he comes up to you after, pins you against the wall, and says, "i can't fucking stand this anymore. i need to get laid." his voice is strained. the shorts that he wore for the workout does nothing to hide his raging erection. "i need to fuck you."

it's not easy to resist him in that situation at all. his lips are hovering right next to yours, and you have to hold back from reaching out and touching his abs, pressing your hips together until you're grinding into each other like you so desperately want.

still, despite all that, you reply, "no."

and he stomps away, slamming every door in the hall, cursing. you take a moment to yourself too; it's not like you're immune to this, either. your pussy throbs with need, dripping wetness onto your panties. if you had been any weaker, you would've given in right there without a doubt.

when the last day finally arrives, november 30, toji doesn't give a shit about the technicalities anymore; whether it's 11:00 pm, or 11:30 pm, or 11:59 pm, it's all the same to him. he's done with this stupid challenge, tortured himself enough by holding back all month (for what, he doesn't even know; it doesn't feel like he gained anything from it), so he deserves this now.

toji has you bent over the nearest surface, cock already buried in your pussy, grinding into you filthily like he's trying to make both of you come as fast as possible. the abstinence really got to him, delirious with only a single goal in mind: to get the release he's been denied of for so damn long. a whole fucking month's worth of come just waiting to be released from his balls.

they feel so hot and heavy, weighted down by how much has accumulated since the start of november. and his cock—fuck, he's never been this hard is his life. it has a mind of its own, so horny and desperate, standing rigid between his legs and weeping with endless amounts of precum that spill out from the tip.

"t-toji, wait," you try to tell him. "it's not—ah—it's not time yet."

"what's the problem?" he asks, not stopping at all. "all you have to do is make sure that you don't come until midnight. there's no rule saying that i can't fuck you before then."

and... he's right, technically, but how the hell does he expect you to hold back when he's pounding into you so fast and rough? it's like he's fully given in to his primitive instincts, fucking you like a wild animal, hips snapping into you over and over.

"i can't—" you gasp as toji's hands reach around to grab your breasts, squeezing them, flicking your nipples. "feels—feels too good—"

"yeah?" toji asks, panting. "doesn't sound like a problem to me. means i'm fucking you real good."

you can't argue with that. moaning, you try to fight against the pleasure, but it's a losing battle. "w-wait, toji—ah—i'm close—"

"come," he tells you, voice low and sultry and so fucking hot. "just let go if you want it so bad. c'mon, be a good girl and come for me now."

a shudder runs through your body as a fresh wave of arousal hits you. fuck. you're trying your best to hold back, you really are, but it's impossible when toji is whispering right next to your ear, his warm breath on your skin as he repeats the word over and over again: come, come, come.

the assault is constant: toji's hips slamming against yours, his hard cock going deeper and deeper with every thrust, brushing against your g-spot. it's overwhelming when one hand slides down to find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub with his skilled fingers. you arch into his touch, moaning brokenly, unable to escape the pleasure. your body betrays you as you feel yourself tipping over the edge,

"fuck," toji groans and it's clear that he's at his limit too, thrusts growing erratic now. "gonna come—"

the feeling of him pulsing and pulsing, spilling everything inside you, is what makes you come in the end. it's so much, weeks of stored up come spurting out from his hard cock, finally getting the release that he so badly needed. you clench around him as he rolls his hips, milking every last drop, the two of you riding out your orgasms together.

toji pulls out and his cock gives one last twitch at the sight of you stuffed full of his come, white and sticky as it drips out of your pussy. you're both still breathing hard, all the tension gone from your body.

god, you've never come so hard in your life. abstaining from sex for a month only made it that much more worth it in the end.

turning your head, you glance at the clock. 12:00 am. it's by pure luck that you came exactly at midnight, somehow managing to complete no nut november despite toji's ruthless teasing.

you vow to never do it again, though. not with toji. there's no way you could survive another year of NNN with him.

.

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian @l0rdgeosupport3rr @minni-creations @fos-tis-zois @the-reas0n-is-y0u @cantfeelherface @rxmbzzz @lysaray @zelzablues @str4wbrrycandy @that-goth-bisexual @simping4u @iminlovewqr0w @sharks31 @pseudowho @jisoonunn @outkasti @anathemaspeaks @fushigur0slut4 @barryatsumu @d0nk3y-k0ng @shasaaa15 @wil10wthetree @maskedpacific @genshingeeksworld @itsnotmelo

i'm going to cry tumblr is not letting me tag people so i'm sorry if it didn't work for you :( (comment to be added)

[elllisaaa]

no nut november with skz

-> where the boys decide to participate to the challenge. who will be the winner ?

-> IMPORTANT : all these works contains smut, minors dni.

enjoy !

❃ day three

-> hwang hyunjin - first to lose

❃ day eight

-> seo changbin - second to lose

❃ day thirteen

-> lee felix - third to lose

❃ day eighteen

-> bangchan - fourth to lose

❃ day twenty three

-> han jisung - fifth to lose

❃ day twenty six

-> yang jeongin - sixth to lose

❃ day twenty nine

-> kim seungmin - seventh to lose

❃ first of december

-> lee minho - winner

masterlist

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

[dante-mightdie]

merry christmas, happy holidays but can we talk about simon and his partner who don’t celebrate this time of year?

be it personal choice, trauma, religious beliefs etc

the twenty-fifth of december is just a normal day for you both, curled up in simon’s flat in manchester. you both wake up, greet each other with a kiss like you do every other day and he gets up to make you both something to eat

just like every other day

there’s a few slight differences. everything is closed and the streets are empty so simon’s first smoke of the day always ends in the suggestion of a walk, let riley out in the snow and off his lead whilst no one’s about

maybe you both take a bottle of wine with you to sip on the walk, holding on to each other and laughing when simon slips on the ice

only for you to fall flat on your ass right after him, riley rushing over with his tail wagging and snout sniffing you both for injuries (obviously you’re both fine)

no fancy meals, no obligated family dinners and forced reactions for gifts you don’t like. just leftovers from the takeaway you got last night and going to bed early

just like every other night

[thaoworra]

The Science Fiction and Fantasy Poetry Association recently released the poems that made it to the finalist stage for consideration for the 2024 Rhysling Awards for Short and Long Speculative Poems of the year. Congratulations to all of the nominees! This will be the 46th year these awards have been conferred!

Short Poems (50 finalists)

Attn: Prime Real Estate Opportunity!, Emily Ruth Verona, Under Her Eye: A Women in Horror Poetry Collection Volume II

The Beauty of Monsters, Angela Liu, Small Wonders 1

The Blight of Kezia, Patricia Gomes, HWA Poetry Showcase X

The Day We All Died, A Little, Lisa Timpf, Radon 5

Deadweight, Jack Cooper, Propel 7

Dear Mars, Susan L. Lin, The Sprawl Mag 1.2

Dispatches from the Dragon's Den, Mary Soon Lee, Star*Line 46.2

Dr. Jekyll, West Ambrose, Thin Veil Press December

First Eclipse: Chang-O and the Jade Hare, Emily Jiang, Uncanny 53

Five of Cups Considers Forgiveness, Ali Trotta, The Deadlands 31

Gods of the Garden, Steven Withrow, Spectral Realms 19

The Goth Girls' Gun Gang, Marisca Pichette, The Dread Machine 3.2

Guiding Star, Tim Jones, Remains to be Told: Dark Tales of Aotearoa, ed. Lee Murray (Clan Destine Press)

Hallucinations Gifted to Me by Heatstroke, Morgan L. Ventura, Banshee 15

hemiplegic migraine as willing human sacrifice, Ennis Rook Bashe, Eternal Haunted Summer Winter Solstice

Hi! I am your Cortical Update!, Mahaila Smith, Star*Line 46.3

How to Make the Animal Perfect?, Linda D. Addison, Weird Tales 100

I Dreamt They Cast a Trans Girl to Give Birth to the Demon, Jennessa Hester, HAD October

Invasive, Marcie Lynn Tentchoff, Polar Starlight 9

kan-da-ka, Nadaa Hussein, Apparition Lit 23

Language as a Form of Breath, Angel Leal, Apparition Lit October

The Lantern of September, Scott Couturier, Spectral Realms 19

Let Us Dream, Myna Chang, Small Wonders 3

The Magician's Foundling, Angel Leal, Heartlines Spec 2

The Man with the Stone Flute, Joshua St. Claire, Abyss & Apex 87

Mass-Market Affair, Casey Aimer, Star*Line 46.4

Mom's Surprise, Francis W. Alexander, Tales from the Moonlit Path June

A Murder of Crows, Alicia Hilton, Ice Queen 11

No One Now Remembers, Geoffrey Landis, Fantasy and Science Fiction Nov./Dec.

orion conquers the sky, Maria Zoccula, On Spec 33.2

Pines in the Wind, Karen Greenbaum-Maya, The Beautiful Leaves (Bamboo Dart Press)

The Poet Responds to an Invitation from the AI on the Moon, T.D. Walker, Radon Journal 5

A Prayer for the Surviving, Marisca Pichette, Haven Speculative 9

Pre-Nuptial, F. J. Bergmann, The Vampiricon (Mind's Eye Publications)

The Problem of Pain, Anna Cates, Eye on the Telescope 49

The Return of the Sauceress, F. J. Bergmann, The Flying Saucer Poetry Review February

Sea Change, David C. Kopaska-Merkel and Ann K. Schwader, Scifaikuest May

Seed of Power, Linda D. Addison, The Book of Witches ed. Jonathan Strahan (Harper Collins)

Sleeping Beauties, Carina Bissett, HWA Poetry Showcase X

Solar Punks, J. D. Harlock, The Dread Machine 3.1

Song of the Last Hour, Samuel A. Betiku, The Deadlands 22

Sphinx, Mary Soon Lee, Asimov's September/October

Storm Watchers (a drabbun), Terrie Leigh Relf, Space & Time

Sunflower Astronaut, Charlie Espinosa, Strange Horizons July

Three Hearts as One, G. O. Clark, Asimov's May/June

Troy, Carolyn Clink, Polar Starlight 12

Twenty-Fifth Wedding Anniversary, John Grey, Medusa's Kitchen September

Under World, Jacqueline West, Carmina Magazine September

Walking in the Starry World, John Philip Johnson, Orion's Belt May

Whispers in Ink, Angela Yuriko Smith, Whispers from Beyond (Crystal Lake Publishing)

Long Poems (25 finalists)

Archivist of a Lost World, Gerri Leen, Eccentric Orbits 4

As the witch burns, Marisca Pichette, Fantasy 87

Brigid the Poet, Adele Gardner, Eternal Haunted Summer Summer Solstice

Coding a Demi-griot (An Olivian Measure), Armoni “Monihymn” Boone, Fiyah 26

Cradling Fish, Laura Ma, Strange Horizons May

Dream Visions, Melissa Ridley Elmes, Eccentric Orbits 4

Eight Dwarfs on Planet X, Avra Margariti, Radon Journal 3

The Giants of Kandahar, Anna Cates, Abyss & Apex 88

How to Haunt a Northern Lake, Lora Gray, Uncanny 55

Impostor Syndrome, Robert Borski, Dreams and Nightmares 124

The Incessant Rain, Rhiannon Owens, Evermore 3

Interrogation About A Monster During Sleep Paralysis, Angela Liu, Strange Horizons November

Little Brown Changeling, Lauren Scharhag, Aphelion 283

A Mere Million Miles from Earth, John C. Mannone, Altered Reality April

Pilot, Akua Lezli Hope, Black Joy Unbound eds. Stephanie Andrea Allen & Lauren Cherelle (BLF Press)

Protocol, Jamie Simpher, Small Wonders 5

Sleep Dragon, Herb Kauderer, The Book of Sleep (Written Image Press)

Slow Dreaming, Herb Kauderer, The Book of Sleep (Written Image Press)

St. Sebastian Goes To Confession, West Ambrose, Mouthfeel 1

Value Measure, Joseph Halden and Rhonda Parrish, Dreams and Nightmares 125

A Weather of My Own Making, Nnadi Samuel, Silver Blade 56

Welcoming the New Girl, Beth Cato, Penumbric October

What You Find at the Center, Elizabeth R McClellan, Haven Spec Magazine 12

The Witch Makes Her To-Do List, Theodora Goss, Uncanny 50

The Year It Changed, David C. Kopaska-Merkel, Star*Line 46.4

Voting for the Rhysling Award begins July 1; a link to the ballot will be sent with the Rhysling Anthology, as well as with the July issue of Star*Line. More information on the Rhysling Award can be found here.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

in theory i should despise you

🍊🍎 a carcar fic 💆‍♂️ in which carlos is a private banker, oscar is his EA, and oscar finally quits 📝 11.1k words 🌶️ rated E 🔗 read on ao3

preview:

On Christmas Day, Carlos stands in Oscar’s doorway. He sighs and pushes a small bag into Oscar’s hands. “My mother made tiramisu,” Carlos says, by way of explanation. Oscar blinks at the glass tupperware – of course, it’s glass, not plastic – and glimpses its cake-y contents. “Isn’t Tiramisu Italian?” “We are Spanish, Oscar. We are patriotic, not allergic to good food.” “Did you get my email?” Oscar says, ignoring the snipey comment. He leads the way to the fridge and puts the tiramisu away. He’s not even sure if it’s safe to eat after four hours in transit, but it does seem like Carlos in his infinite wisdom did pack the tiramisu-from-Spain in several coolant bags, and there’s dried ice in there too. Either that, or someone else (like Carlos’s mum) was actually well prepared. Story of Carlos’s life. “You came all the way, with a tiramisu on the twenty fifth of December, to tell me you received my message?” Carlos doesn’t answer, so the question stretches out between them. Oscar lets it. He senses that Carlos came here with an intention, even if Oscar for the life of him can’t work out what it actually is.

or, for those of you who enjoyed this headcanon, here it is now as a full(er) fic

also thank you x1,000 to the amazing @miamimaiden for betaing this in record time !!

and edited to add: this little carlos POV for those interested

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Metallica - Wherever I May Roam 1992

"Wherever I May Roam" is a song by American heavy metal band Metallica, and was released in 1992 as the fourth single from their eponymous fifth album, Metallica (commonly known as The Black Album). The album marked a change in the band's music from the thrash metal style of their previous four albums to a slower, heavier, and more refined sound, and "Wherever I May Roam" along with the other 4 singles released from this album ("Enter Sandman", "The Unforgiven", "Nothing Else Matters", and "Sad but True") have all been considered to be among the band's best-known songs. Metallica received widespread critical acclaim and became the band's best-selling album. It debuted at number one in ten countries and spent four consecutive weeks at the top of the Billboard 200, making it Metallica's first album to top the album charts. With over 30 million copies sold worldwide, Metallica is one of the best-selling albums worldwide. In December 2019, Metallica became the fourth release in American history to enter the 550-week milestone on the Billboard 200. It also became the second longest-charting traditional title in history only behind The Dark Side of the Moon (1973) by Pink Floyd, and the second to spend 550 weeks on the album charts. "Wherever I May Roam" reached number 82 on the US Billboard Hot 100 peaked at number twenty-five on the Billboard Album Rock Tracks chart, and peaked at number two in Denmark, Finland and Norway. The intro of the song is notable for its unusual instrumentation for the band: Asian instruments such as a gong and sitar, along with an overdubbed Warwick twelve-string bass. This 12-string bass was only used for effect during the intro to emphasize several accented notes and then a standard tuned 4-string bass was used as the main bass instrument throughout the remainder of the recording. "Wherever I May Roam" received 70,4% total yes votes!

[chzdavmpr]

Concept: In a setting where a cheesy cliche concept has a real, tangible power (ie the power of friendship) but said power is almost exclusively used by the villain. Let me try to explain my vision with a short scene.

"You are too late! You can not stop me! Nothing can stop me anymore! Today is the zenith of my power. Now more then ever I am unto a GOD! For it is DECEMBER TWENTY FIFTH! The Spirit of Christmas flows now through all living things, and all of their power is now mine! NOW DIE!"

[floridaboiler]

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! Every year on December 25th, over 2 billion people around the world celebrate Christmas Day. Traditionally, Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. Nonreligious people and those of different faiths celebrate the day as a cultural event. 

Source - https://mewe.com/p/bikinisummer

[storksummer]

how was everyones christmas?<3 whatd you do? whatd you get? whered you go? please!!!! i would like to know<3

[iznsfw]

IZ Days of Christmas 2023

This is a masterlist of all my stories under the series of IZ Days of Christmas.

It is a series done as a challenge to myself to post a corresponding smut for each IZ*ONE member for twelve days of December, starting from the fourteenth of December to the twenty-fifth.

🎄 Day 1 - Kwon Eunbi

Trouvaille

🎄 Day 2 - Miyawaki Sakura

Here, Kitty, Kitty!

🎄 Day 3 - Kang Hyewon

Ms. Kang Hyewon

🎄 Day 4 - Choi Yena

Manic Robotic Dream Girl

🎄 Day 5 - Lee Chaeyeon

Not All There Is To It

🎄 Day 6 - Kim Chaewon

She's No Fucking Angel

🎄 Day 7 - Kim Minju

Lucid Dream

🎄 Day 8 - Yabuki Nako:

Dirty Little Pleasures

🎄 Day 9 - Honda Hitomi:

Cutest Corruption

🎄 Day 10 - Jo Yuri:

Transparency

🎄 Day 11 - An Yujin:

Midnight

🎄 Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung:

Reputation, Or Whatever That Is

[bumpkinbayouthief]

🂱 › Oh, Christmas Tree .

The holiday season can be hectic but nothing helps more than spending the day with your Cajun partner picking out and decorating your tree.

pairing : remy x reader a/n : my first actual fic on here and just in time for Christmas! while this is Christmas centric I did try mention a few of the other holidays celebrated this month. I hope you enjoy <3 ps was too tired to edit so any mistakes you see . . no you don’t

Remy Lebeau had never been a fan of the cold that took over upstate New York in the winter months, but he would always bear it just to see that smile on your face. 

Unlike your Cajun lover, you loved the winter time, especially the first snowfall of winter, when that delicate white blanket would cover the mansion lawns and dust your hair whenever you walked outside. 

There was always an excited energy that would settle in the mansion around the beginning of November and would only pick up its intensity the closer it got to the twenty-fifth. You fully embraced the holiday festivities, including the students of the mansion in them. You did your best to sprinkle some instruction time but by the time December first rolled around, you were in full celebration mode. 

You knew it was important to these kids, many of whom would be missing families that had kicked them out due to their powers manifesting or simply sent them to this mansion for their safety and education. Whatever the circumstances were, you were determined to make the month enjoyable for everyone. 

You tackled decorating the monster of a mansion, recruiting many of your students to help with the small bribe of extra credit. You made sure every holiday was represented alongside the traditional Christmas decor you remembered from your youth. Blue and silver decor was hung and proudly showcased alongside a Menorah that you had picked out with help from the students who celebrated Hanukkah. One of your students even taught you about Kwanza and helped you decorate and area in the mansion that they could use to celebrate and show their friends the December holiday that they celebrated. 

And Remy, your dear Remy, was supportive the whole time. He climbed tall ladders to adjust garland and lights, even climbed up on the roof with Kurt to help make the mansion shine outside just as beautifully as you had made the inside. 

But when the time finally came to get a tree for the room you shared with the red eyed mutant, it was a bit harder for him to keep his grumbling to himself. 

You walked in front of him down the path between the rows of Christmas trees. The snow under your feet crunches with each step of your boots. 

He watches as you study each tree, trying to pick the perfect one. He would find it more endearing if he wasn’t so focused on keeping his teeth from chattering loud enough for you to hear. No matter how many northern winters he went through, he still never full acclimated. 

He pulled his trenchcoat tighter to his body, hands stuffed in his pockets and he can’t help the little sigh of relief that escapes when he sees you stop and turn to him with a huge grin. You proudly stated that this was the one. The way your face lit up made his almost briefly forget the bitter cold nipping at his nose. 

“Dis th’ one you wan’ Chere?” 

“Oh it’s perfect Remy, its going to look so cute in our room!” 

You grabbed his hand and waved down one of the workers. Once your beloved tree was brought to your car, Remy got to work securing it in the truck bed. He strapped it down with ease and you couldn’t help but stand and watch the show, especially when the sweater he wore rode up just a smidge and gave you a view of his toned stomach. 

The sound of him hopping down from the truck bed brought you out of your little world you had sunk into. 

“Alright, let’s get you out of the cold my little Cajun.” 

That got you a smile out of him as he pulled you in close and pressed a kiss to your lips. His arm slipped around your waist and he guided you to the passenger side and opened up the door for you. 

His arm slid away and took your hand, helping you up into the cab of the truck before he made sure your coat was completely inside and closed the door. 

Back home, Remy wrestled the tree up the stairs and into your shared room. With your guidance, he set it up in the perfect spot, right in front of one of the windows, far enough from the fireplace to limit the risk of it catching on fire. 

While you focused on fiddling with perfecting the branches of the tree, Remy drew out one of the playing cards that he always carried in his pockets. Purple sparks jumped from his fingertips, charging the card before tossing it amongst the wood in the fireplace. The charge went off, flames erupting and a fire filling the room with warmth. 

You can’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips as you shook your head. 

“Show off.”

He sat on the floor, surrounded by boxes of Christmas decor, the soft sound of Christmas tunes filling the air accompanied by the crackle of the fire. It was your first Christmas together as a couple and while you had done this for years, it was his first time seeing these decorations. 

He dug through the boxes, looking at each ornament with intrigue in his red eyes. Old glass icicles and candy canes, ornaments clearly made by a much younger you all made the sight of the whole scene rather endearing and if he was honest, completely foreign to himself.

The lavish decoration you put out around the mansion was what reminded him of his youth. A mansion like this one, decorated perfectly full of things that he and his brother Henri were told not to touch. 

You turned when your outstretched hand was left empty for a bit, used to him handing you ornaments at a steady rhythm as you placed them all over the tree. You noticed he was sitting there staring at an ornament you had made back in kindergarten with a tiny school picture of 5 year old you in the center of it. 

You quietly walked over, crouching down beside him, not wanting to break the quiet that had surrounded him. 

His own red eyes looked up and found yours, a small loving smile coming over his features. 

“How old were you in dis?” he asked you. 

“I was in kindergarten, so five,” you replied fondly, reminiscing on the memory of your parents always happily putting up the ornaments you made, each year the newest one going front and center. “Did you ever make ornaments when you were little?”

He glanced away, looking back down at the delicate keepsake of your childhood. Eventually he shook his head. 

“Didn’t have a home till I was ten an’ den wit’ my pop, he let a decorator deck ou’ th’ house.”

Your reaction was mixed as you struggled to balance the emotions this brought out in you. On one hand, you were excited that he had shared something from his past with you. It didn’t happen that often so these little peeks were always special, but it also was bittersweet as you took in the sadness that coated the edges of the memory. 

How could something so warm as the holidays have such a layer of frost over it? But soon an idea came to mind. You got to your feet and quickly crossed the room to the closet you and Remy shared. 

The red eyed devil watched you with curiosity as you dug around in the walk in closet, finally emerging with your craft tote. 

“Chere?”

You set the tote down and sat down beside him. You opened the tote and pulled out various things. 

“We’re making you an ornament.” You declared. 

He was a bit floored, seeing the adorable determination in your features as you spread the various craft supplies out onto the floor. This small gesture from you had him smiling while he leaned over and gently kissed you. 

“Merci chere.”

You always surprised him with how well you knew how to show him your love. 

So for a brief intermission in the decorating, you sat with him, making the homemade decoration. He had chosen to make a snowglobe one, using fun scrapbooking paper and stickers you had. Once done, you found one of the polaroids you had of the two of you and helped him stick it in the middle. 

“Oh Remy! It’s perfect,” you exclaimed, standing up and taking his hand in yours. “Come on, let’s hang it on the tree!”

He smiled and took your hand. Standing up, he let you drag him to the Christmas tree. He took the ornament and decided on a spot in the center near the top. The soft, warm glow of the lights surrounded the decoration commemorating your first holiday season together. 

You stood and leaned into his side, a happy and content smile on your features. You felt his arm wrap around you and pull you close as you two basked in the warmth of holiday cheer that filled the room. 

It was the sudden cold chill that broke the bubble and Remy snuck his fingers under the hem of your sweater, his ice cold fingers seeking out the warmth of your skin. It caused you to squeal and try to get away from him but that only made him tighten his cold grip. 

His laughter surrounded you, mixing with your own squeal and giggles as his fingers slipped to the front, resting on the soft skin of your tummy, stealing the warmth. He pul;led you flush against his chest, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“God your fingers are like icicles!”

“Dat’s wha’ you get fo’ draggin me ou’ into th’ cold petite.”

You got him to finally let go with the promise of hot chocolate and cuddles in front of the fire. So in the kitchen you made two cups of warm hot chocolate, slipping in a bit of peppermint liqueur and topping it with fluffy marshmallows. 

You walked back in, seeing him already stretched out on the small loveseat that faced the crackling fire. 

“Your coffee darling,” you said with a smile, handing off the mug to him. 

He smiled and opened up the blanket. You climbed in with him, settling down and laying back against his chest, his legs framing your body. He pulled the blanket over you two, creating a warm cocoon neither of you planned to leave soon. 

As with the warmth of the hot cocoa filling his stomach and the glow of your Christmas tree filled the room, Remy knew that this Christmas would be one of his favorites.

love, elizabeth

[ center image i found on pinterest but the artist is dan veesenmeyer | other images were found on pinterest | divider credit: @/strangergraphics ]

[kinichval]

when our paths cross again

missing your flight to inazuma and crashing your ex's place for the holidays is certainly not in your 2024 bingo card, nor is it your ideal way of celebrating the year-end. but here you are anyway.

content. ex!scaramouche x fem!reader, modern!au, angst, tension, YEARNING, profanities. | 3.1k words.

december 23rd, 20:34.

“i deeply apologize, ma'am. however, the earliest available flight to inazuma is 72 hours from now.”

great. great.

is the world punishing you for splurging the past three days before coming home to inazuma for the holidays by miscalculating your estimated time of arrival at the airport?

not only did you not have a place to stay, your wallet is tight on cash, and also the fact that you're basically stuck in sumeru for the rest of december unless you wait a whole three days ‘til you're flying back to inazuma. it wouldn't be a problem waiting if you didn't have businesses to resume after the twenty-fifth.

sighing in defeat, you could only offer your gratitude to the lady behind the desk for accommodating your concern. neither does she hold any power to twist your situation favoring the happy ending of eating a delicious buffet with your family, drinking wine all night, and unwrapping the gifts that were held in secret for who knows how long.

now, you sit by the window of a small cafe near the airport. a cup of warm americano accompanying your bummed out ass on this extra cold winter night. there's no snow blanketing sumeru city, but tonight puts you on the border of frostbites with this god awful truth that you won't be home for the holidays.

and then there's that additional layer of coldness that hits your skin when you stood up and was about to exit the cafe, destination still in progress, but all thoughts are cut off when you look up and find sickeningly familiar purplish, cool-toned irises staring at you with wrinkled nose bridge from that scrunched up expression that makes you want to slap the hell out of him.

what a fucking self-entitled bastard to be the one looking all disgusted at this displeasing predicament when he was the one saying “we should break up.” four years ago on a just as cold monday night in december.

“are you not going to apologize for spilling cold water on my shirt?” you hiss, shivering underneath as the multitude of glaciers penetrate your skin.

“why would i apologize if i meant for it to spill?”

an asshole he is, scaramouche is a fucking asshole.

except you're in this asshole's passenger seat because apparently you're too broke to afford a few more days of ‘vacation’, so you're—not by choice—accepting his offer to spend christmas with him at his place.

considering the menacing scheme he pulled, you're wary of other ill-intent motives he has tucked in under his visage of kindness.

you grit your teeth. great. this is not what you wrote to santa, sadly there's no return system and you have to endure whatever bullshit this man is envisioning in his mind.

december 23rd, 22:08.

so far, scaramouche is acting strangely kind after purposely tipping his glass of ice cold water on you. the drive to his apartment was quiet, except for the series of korean r&b songs he hummed along to; he opened the car door and brought up your luggage to his unit; and he asked if you wanted a meal or snack.

“you're being weird. what do you want from me?” your cold tone mirrored the air of december, your eyes narrowed in disbelief and pursued to unveil the mischief playing in his head. “you're in a situation, i offered help, you accepted.” he simply responds as if it's a common thing to do for exes, for exes who have never seen each other for four years.

“how are you so casual about this? we're exes.”

“would you rather get hypothermia out in the city looking for a cheap and open place to stay?”

“i—”

“if you did, you wouldn't be here right now. but look at us.”

he has a point. he only offered, it was you who accepted.

part of you wanted to walk away out of pettiness and embarrassment because you knew if this reaches your best friend's ears, you'd be sitting down and earning an earshot of a lecture from her about not reconnecting with exes regardless of the situation.

“okay fine, you win. i'll just sleep here tonight and i'll be on my merry way tomorrow.” exhaustion is already catching up to you, a yawn escapes past your lips. “you can sleep in my room, i'll be in the other bedroom.” there's that casual reply of his again, words spill out of him like this was just a normal, platonic conversation.

“it's even weirder sleeping in my ex's room, i'll just stay here.” you pat down on the soft cushion on his sofa, scaramouche shrugs and accepts your decision.

how odd of you to expect that he'll insist on having you sleep comfortably in his room?

december 24th, 2:21.

it's even odder and definitely out of character that scaramouche is still within your sight after declaring that you'll be sleeping a few hours ago.

but what the hell are you doing chatting and bickering with an abandoned christmas movie in the background?

somehow, you don't find it in yourself to push him out of your sight.

all those hours of biting back and forth had you writing notes of his life after you—the life that consisted of him being eligible for an exchange student here in sumeru city to which he proved he deserved that he was offered a scholarship to transfer in the esteemed akademiya, scaramouche will be graduating next year.

and you want to slap yourself for that one second of thinking what would be a nice graduation gift.

you also learned that scaramouche shares this apartment with a guy named sethos, he's currently on a holiday vacation which cancels out the wandering thought of why does scaramouche's apartment have two bedrooms.

and about his little stunt, he admitted to swearing to himself that when he sees you, he will pour water all over your top—with high hopes that you're wearing your favorite shirt—and see that horrified expression that he believes will satiate his reasonable amount of hate towards you (no, he doesn't hate you but he won't admit it.)

on the other hand, scaramouche now knows why you're stranded in sumeru and why your wallet forces itself shut in your pocket.

as one of the well performing employees in the company, your boss included you in his entourage for this business trip in sumeru. the schedule was a hassle, it was an almost three week business operation because christmas was in the middle of the whole thing so there's four free days to which your boss decided to go back to inazuma then return on the twenty-sixth. you followed his plan, come home for the holidays—you even spent the morning of the twenty-third buying presents for your family and peers—then fly back on the night of the twenty-fifth to continue your job.

but alas, you were late to arrive at the airport. underestimating the christmas rush in the center of the city, traffic clogs the road causing frustration as everyone was thinking of the same thing: it's christmas.

and you were old enough to know that santa wouldn't give you a miracle that someone was willing to give up their seat in the next flight to inazuma, not that the thought didn't give you a flicker of hope. but you end that idea with a bitter chuckle.

“why didn't you come home for the holidays?” you wonder, your mind traveling back to the last few christmas if he ever flew to inazuma to celebrate the winter holidays back home.

“i don't come home during vacations.” he avoids your curious stare when he answers, seemingly having more words stuck in his throat that he swallows. 

you don't press it further, you know that scaramouche makes up his mind whether or not the reason behind a decision is substantial. 

“is sumeru better than inazuma?” curiosity is getting the best of you, it's an innocent query to anyone. maybe you were just trying to gain insight because of migration plans or vacation ideas. “well, i like it here.” his response has you tilting your head, a subtle sign of wanting to know more.

“i don't know, i'm surviving here so i guess it's not that bad.”

“are you coming back to inazuma after you graduate?”

“no.”

the zero second gap between your sentences startles you. it intrigues you, a quiet voice telling you to find whatever truth he keeps inside his heart.

because despite scaramouche doing most things according to the law of just because and how he wants things to be, this one seems to bear a reason that he dares not to tell a soul.

there's a weighted silence draped over you, but you feel the tempting force to keep scaramouche here overpowering the former.

december 24th, 12:49.

the afternoon rays of the sun pierces through your skin as the wind gently blows the curtains allowing the sun's presence to grace over your slumber.

rubbing your eyes, you try to recover the memory of last night. oh, right, you and scaramouche… in his apartment on christmas eve, what a totally normal ex-lover reunion, truly.

hell no—

“how long are you sleeping? it's afternoon already.”

scaramouche's voice rings through your ears and suddenly you want to deactivate your sense of hearing. your brain cogs were turning, processing a remark that will hopefully crush his soul, his whole life, his dreams, his—

“lunch is ready. get up while (favorite dish) is still hot.”

and you're bolting to the kitchen, accidentally bumping on the corner of the wall, but all is well as you hide the pain in your knee under the dining table.

“you cook now?” you raise your eyebrow. four years ago, scaramouche only knew how to heat up food and modern era's favorite instant noodles. 

“how do you think i survive?” he retorts back, handing you an ice pack before sitting down across you. “that must've hurt. deserve.” he strikes, you squeeze hard on the ice pack which quickly returns your pressure with the coldness it possesses.

four years later, scaramouche changed, but somehow you still feel the same scaramouche you loved lingering. you wonder if who you were four years ago would believe that this is what happens four years later—that you'll break up on a december night and find your ex lover again on a december night.

albeit the second night feels much more colder than the first fall of snow. ironic, because sumeru doesn't experience a snowy weather.

you flinch at the contact of the ice pack to your poor knee, your face contorts. scaramouche fights back a laugh, you hear the slipping sound of him swallowing it down, “just hold the ice pack, i'll feed you.” your brain freezes, unable to wholly process his words and he's already moved to sit beside you, grabbing the spoon and put in front of your lips.

you comply anyway, parting your lips to let him feed you. it's your favorite, you didn't want to pass up the opportunity even though your face is already heating up because why the fuck is scaramouche so close—you're already in his apartment, if that's not already an invasion of personal space (as exes) then you're at loss with the chaotic beating of your heart clouding your perception.

scaramouche continues to feed you, alternating his own portion in between. scaramouche is kind, but he hasn't pulled any mean gimmicks, there's the unfriendly remarks and triggers of annoyance—but he's not acting up. not yet, you suppose.

maybe he'll pull tricks on you on christmas.

a gift of revenge, you thought he would think of it as such.

december 24th, 17:31.

you're unable to read what exactly is going on in scaramouche's mind. is he carefully watching your steps align with his plan and waiting for that go signal to surprise you with the ultimate revenge or is he secretly still in love with you and he's trying to win you back through the little things he knows would matter to you?

either way, you couldn't reject his offer to drive down the city on the evening of christmas eve.

“is this how you spent christmas since you moved here?”

scaramouche pursues his lips into a thin line, eyes still on the road, he takes a few moments to respond.

“depends, last year i just slept through the whole thing.” he shrugs it off, your shoulder drops and a deadpan replaces your anticipating look.

“but i drive a lot at night.” he says, your eyebrow raises, “you're not from here so might as well make this a free vacation.” he finally glances at you, albeit teasingly.

“what kind of ex does that?”

“your ex.”

air gets stuck in your throat, why the fuck did it sound like he's still giving you the right of ownership? your ex. yours, even if he isn't.

“did you not date anyone in the akademiya?”

“why would i?”

“i don't know. did no one seem interesting or did you get rejected?”

“they're not you.”

scaramouche is charged guilty after all.

december 24th, 18:00.

scaramouche opens a can of carbonated soda, the fizz loud enough to turn your attention on him. the stars are twinkling bright over your heads and they hear your longing.

the stars know about your yearning.

the breeze of the night grazes over your skin, you flinch at the coolness, wrapping your arms around yourself. the two of you sit inside his car, windows rolled down; scaramouche brought you to where edge of sumeru.

the coastal highway, a familiar scenery.

ah, right, scaramouche has always been expressive of sitting down staring at the ocean beside the road.

“so—”

“i—”

eyes nervously look at each other, the enemy-esque banter is out of the window when you realize that the both of you aren't trying piss the other off.

scaramouche gulps, heaving a sigh.

“i'm sorry, yn. i'm sorry for leaving you.”

you're confused, why would he apologize after four years? you remember vividly how his last words before he turned his back against you was “let's break up, i'm sorry.”

your heart sinks, unable to yield a thought. it seems you're paralyzed as if all the suppressed feelings that you buried were resurrected and has you on chokehold.

“are you sorry because you still love me?”

scaramouche is silent, he doesn't look at you.

“i'm sorry because i didn't know what to do and breaking up seemed to be the only less damaging route.”

he reasons as his head lowers down, eyes fixate on the can in his hand, “i love you, but it didn't take rocket science to see that we were ruining each other.” you notice the bitter smile curve on his lips.

“yn, i know you were sacrificing too much for us. i know that any more of it will break you.”

“no—”

“you can't tell me otherwise when i saw it in your eyes that you needed to breathe.”

well, curse the fucking tears for ruining your supposed composed being. you hate believe his words.

“i needed you, scar.”

you did, you desperately needed your scar to save you from the chaotic world.

“but i needed me too, yn. and you needed yourself.”

oh.

“then, why do you hate me?”

your voice cracks.

“if i hated you, i wouldn't have looked your way back in the cafe.” he chuckles, “if it's because i spilled water on you, that was just me trying to get your attention.” he admits, your heart tightens.

“four years since we broke up and i still love you, yn.” he chugs down his soda, doing all that he can to avoid seeing your teary eyes, “it's not that i didn't fight for us, i did. but how can i let you suffer like that when i'm already short of what i promised you? i was compromising both you and my future.” he hears you sob and he breaks, his heart equally as broken as yours.

after all, you two truly were in love.

but love as it is will never be enough.

“if we stayed, i'm afraid i'll lose you in the worst way.”

“losing you is already the worst, scar.”

time is a lousely doctor, because until this moment, there's a silent plead for the other half to come back—to love again.

“i'm sorry, scar.” you cry, reaching out to hold him but fall mid-way. your memories flash before your eyes when the nights leading to the break-up consisted of more sincere apologies than the warmth of ‘i love you's.

it kills you to hear more ‘i'm sorry’s.

well, the last blow, the ultimate death was when you heard ‘let's break up’ because after then, you won't be hearing his voice.

you bitterly laugh to yourself, you realized it would've been more painful to hear apologies like it's your routine, a cycle of missteps that muttering a sorry is also part of the egg shells.

you knew no one was to blame, but someone had to cut that cycle. if it had to be scaramouche, then so be it, even if he had to suffer knowing that you suffer because of his loss from your life.

and he knows that if you had realized it sooner, it would've been you who saved your individual lives.

now, silence envelops you, the high tide moves the waves further to the shore allowing its crash to be heard from your position.

december 24th, 23:11.

you and scaramouche still love each other, there's a mutual hope for things to fall back into place. but time isn't the same as four years ago, neither are you and scaramouche.

for all that it's worth, you lay in his arms, his chest heave behind your back.

for what love can allow you to be, scaramouche settles his chin on the crown of your head.

for what you know should just be, yours fingers are intertwined and small bits of laughter blend in with the air as you share moments in your life that made you thought of the other.

you wish for scaramouche to come back as your lover and for you to love him unconditionally, without the constraint of losing yourself.

because you and scaramouche changed over the past four years, and if love allows a second chance,

“i will get to know the newer versions of you than ever think of meeting someone else.”

but alas, things won't be that easy for love alone can not hold a lifetime.

and so, as the seconds inch nearer to christmas, you only have one wish that you hopefully will come true the next year—

“i want our paths to cross again, and maybe then, we can start anew.”

“i'll catch up to you, yn.”

december 25th, 00:00.

merry christmas, please find me again.