#downy flake

[cerealkiller740]

1954 Log Cabin Syrup and Downy Flake Frozen Waffles

[an-odd-hobbit]

Art piece done for the Bagginshield Book Club Midwinter Gift Exchange 2024.

This was based on the prompt 'winter fun,' and gifted to @northerntrash, who specified they like moody/atmospheric things. I hope this fits the bill sufficiently! May this season bring you joy and peace.

This is also based on Robert Frost's poem 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening':

Whose woods these are I think I know.    His house is in the village though;    He will not see me stopping here    To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer    To stop without a farmhouse near    Between the woods and frozen lake    The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake    To ask if there is some mistake.    The only other sound’s the sweep    Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,    But I have promises to keep,    And miles to go before I sleep,    And miles to go before I sleep.

[squiddy-god]

⚜︎⪻My Beast⊰♥︎⊱My Rose⪼⚜︎

⊰An Instant Before A Gaze⊱

⊰Yandere beauty!Argenti x beast!reader⊱

⊰Previous||masterlist||next⊱

Potential part one??? This is based off of a little prompt i saw here<3 So I decided to write this for Argenti because the brain rot is so real for him.im so in love with him augh~ I love men who are so hopelessly in love that it drives them crazy. 

Request are open don't be shy Cw : knight/beauty Argenti, beast reader, mentions of discrimination, depictions of violence, yandere themes, yandere Argenti, obsession, reader is cursed, imprisonment, reverse kidnapping?? Argenti will NOT leave,he's kinda delusional, insecurity, slight body horror (will bold so you can skip), Argenti “i can fix them”  5.2k 

The sweet rays of the sun cast gossamer streams of light past the clouded lattice windows and illuminated fleeting slivers of the once opulent room. Far from its glory the space lay cold and torn asunder- no longer did it hold the warm laughter of its once noble occupant, but rather the cold emptiness of a long jaded heart. White silken curtains hanging limply from their rails, shredded and ragged, a once golden chandelier flakes its gilding having long since crashed to the tiled floor. Long jagged claw marks decorate the beautifully embroidered carpets, their once splendid depictions of scrolling and florals lost to the harsh sands of time, crumbling in the hands of a beast. The chairs and lounge are covered by the same white sheets, edges torn and falling slightly. A four poster bed sits on the right wall, opposite to the sitting area and long fizzled out fireplace, the velvet curtains are all but ripped off, draped across the floor like pools of deep wine, so desperately clinging to the wooden beams of the bed to stay on. Shadows cast the inside of the heavy curtains and soft bed, the only place seemingly spared the wrath. silk pillows and fine sheets, downy blankets piled to give some false hope at comfort. Despite their apparent disarray the red velvet curtains of the bed are not torn, simply tugged at with their golden cords long forgotten. 

The mirror on the vanity by the bed is shattered, its cruel glass shards reflecting in mocking defiance as the sun hits them, their edges speckled with a dark brown substance that now seemed to flake away. Somewhere above the fireplace is a portrait, its frame a gilded gold. Each brush stroke echos an angry mocking jeer, yet depicts the warm smile of a painfully human creature.

 Outside the castle is a beautiful sight, its deep carved stone once a shining white now weathered to a melancholy gray, yet it still held the same fairytale quality. Many towers and rooms, a striking circular building attached to the main castle with what seemed to be a glass ceiling, and behind it what seemed to be the same style but further back with smaller rooms to the side. A large sprawling garden surrounded the back of the castle, with verdant green hedges and many blooming flowers. Stained glass and latticed windows gave way to beautiful arches and delicate gothic architecture, sprawling vines climbed up the sides of the stone and made their home in the grooves of the structure so their flowers could bloom. Perhaps most striking was the tallest tower, a spire pointed defiantly at the sky as if to reach out and touch the clouds, for this is the room of the most beloved child of the once noble house. A room that now sits in dishevelment. 

Beyond the tall iron gates of the castle lay the forest, with its tall trees of emerald green that seem to thin out the further away from cursed place it goes. Deep under tree cover is a once well traveled path, its dirt road now being encroached by wandering plants and flora, wild flowers spring fourth in lush bundles of pink and golden hues. While the forest may seem a beaut sight, the closer one drifts towards the castle grounds, the more a sense of lamentation twists the land. The trees seemed to reach out with warped limbs, contorting, mangling into cruel hands. Unmaintained and forgetting the love they once knew, as a broken ballerina continues to spin forever on her music box, so will the trees and vines continue to grow. 

In the village there is a tale told as a bedtime story to sleepy children. 

Long ago there was once a noble family who lived in grandiosity, squandered wealth and cruel hearts. To them it seemed every being was a mere bug under their shoes, their servants were treated cruelly as if they were animals. But one day that changed, a blessed child had been born from amongst the bramble, with a tender and mellow heart they seemed to possess a noble spirit. For a time the cruelty continued from the family, but the young Liege spoke out and begged for their family to end the cruelty, and it began to ebb away like a receding tide. However this was only in the eyes of the young liege, for behind the intricately carved closed doors it only escalated. Soon the most beloved child of the noble house became the bearer of the burden, cruelty that lashed their mind and heart was given as freely as air. Yet their noble heart remained steadfast and endeared them to the servants of the house, the kindness that licked their wounds was given without any expectation. 

However one day in spring, the last cold wisps of wind giving way to bountiful flowers and warm sun, a party was held at the castle deep in the forest. An enchantress had heard of the family's cruelty and after hearing the tales became enraged and went to the castle to see for herself. She disguised herself as a poor beggar woman and rapped upon the doors seeking only solace from the cold April rains. They did not turn her away, no… instead they brought her inside all while laughing a malicious hollow laugh. They paraded her around as the sorry beggar women, mocking and jeering at her as if pushing her to the cold was simply too kind a jester. The young liege urged them to stop, protesting about how the display was sickening. All that they were met with was the glares of the family and a harsh slap for their audacity and disobedience. 

The display was enough for the enchantress to reveal herself, the eyes of the nobles went wide in shock and fear, left to cower like the animals they had treated people as. Before the enchantress could curse them however, the young liege stepped forward and pleaded for them to be spared, they were prepared to bare the burden of their cruelty if it meant they did not suffer while they paid for what they had done, for the young liege could not stomach the thought of others suffering. The sincerity of the young liege moved the enchantress and so she granted their wish. 

“My child, for your noble heart…i shall grant you your wish, tho it brings me no joy to do so” and so the curse was placed. Upon the noble family their curse was to meet a tragic end, yet their fate would not be cruel, it would be quick and merciful, they would continue to live for one year before meeting their end. whatever they did in that year would determine how they died. The cruelty of the curse was placed on the young liege, only 16 years of age. 

Their scream pierced the room, body morphing as their bones twisted and cracked, distorting with a defining crunch. Teeth fell out as if rotting from their head giving way to bloodied fangs and a gnarled muzzle. Tall and imposing they were a beast, a cruel and evil monster with no trace of what they had once been. Nails splitting the skin of their fingers and morphing into sharp claws and their cries become howls. Their spine snaps and mangles into something grotesque and resembling an amalgamation of animals. Their skin grew fur as they lay in a heap on the floor.

The guest began to flee in a rushed panic at the sight. Even their own family whomst they had taken this fate for fled. The fleeting stares of disgust seared like hot irons for even their family had forsaken them. For they were a monstrous and ugly sight, a cruel beast and evil monster that held none of the warmth of the young liege. But one day the beast will be slayed and the nightmare will end, and the knight who vanquishes that evil will be hailed a hero.  

All stories have hidden verses, tucked away within the yellowed pages of a book to never see the light of day or feel the warm touch of gentle fingers. In this story there exists such a verse written in ink at the end of the tale. It is scrawled hastily and has long been forgotten. 

“My poor weary child, it brings me no joy to see you suffer for the sake of those undeserving of your kindness…so I will grant you a reprieve from fate's cruel touch.” The beast looked up to the enchantress, their eyes still painfully human. “When you find someone who loves you as you are, and when you can love them intern, you shall be spared this cruel fate” a laughable mercy. True love tender kiss, the only amnesty for a being that has forgotten how to love…how to be loved. 

Warm light steeps the small cottage in a brilliant amber hue, the sheer curtains flutter in the gentle breeze let in from the open window. Their ruffled edges flutter as the sun as the tall man moves around the kitchen. Roses seem to saturate every corner of the cottage, blooming forth bursts of color that sit in stark contrast to the light stone walls. Strong oak beams and supports carry hanging planters with beautiful delicate flowers that seem to cascade over the baskets languidly, petals resembling the softness of newborn downy feathers bathe in pastel colors and mingle with the decor of the kitchen. Ceramic plates scrawled with delicate rose patterns as well as various mismatching cups, a large spear rests mounted to the wall its slender blade a deep crimson red, its intricate adornments resembling that of embracing vines and brambles, prickling and dangerous yet wrapped around the handle with the reverence of a tender lover. Pristine and unblemished, treated with the gentle caress of calloused hands, wiped clean after every battle, every beast slain and monster laid to rest. 

The visage of the man conveyed the warm breath of spring, his flowing locks the color of succulent strawberries with each strand a thread of fine silk that beheld its luster with dazzling passion, sprawling viridescent fields as vast the heavens yet intimate as secluded meadows where the sun's light dances through tree leaves onto swaying grass reflected in his soft eyes. The beautiful hues of jade and emerald swirled without trace of malice, wielding only the bladed edge of fervent veneration for every sight that graces him. The ruffled white blouse that draped over him hung loose to his broad shoulders with the front laced in a way that still exposed much of his chest, silvery scars and dark cicatrix of wounds long healed adorned his body as jewels adorn the finest accessories of noble lords and ladies. The tapestry of battle that was woven, etched onto his pale skin served as a testament to his passion and honor, the gentle but fleeting touch of a gentleman that wreathes effigy of a knight, yet this tapestry was never hidden, it remained in every syllable spoken from his soft lips and dripped into his every noble action.

Conceivably, within the vast and intimate depths of his eyes layed a burning pyre where his tender heart was set ablaze. The flames of longing that licked at the very core of his soul seemed to beckon him, honeyed words of desire that whispered in his ear calling him to the abyss where he would gladly drown if it meant an end to the ache he felt. Yes gladly he would walk past the brink of lucidity if it meant an oasis in this dessert where he could quest this unbearable thirst. What read as simple unrelenting passion was simply the smoldering coals begging for air. 

Awe…

Admiration…

Reverence…

Adoration… 

Devotion… 

Worship… 

Love. 

A deep chasm that only one could feel, the very substance he breathed until his lungs burned for oxygen- yet every breath was intoxicating. Deep inside it fed the hot coals and set them writhing to a blazing inferno of sickly sweet obsession. He did not suppress his obsession, his longing, his ache, for how could he betray his love? How could he disservice his love by quelling the desire that burned for them alone? His entirety yearned for his love with the vehemence of a starving dog, licking at the bones it's been fed yet wanting for more. Wanting for his nameless love. 

Sir Argenti, a man of beauty, a man of passion, a man of love. 

A soft smile played on his lip, the wisps of steam fanning against his sculpted face, the heavy set of his brow, his sultry lidded eyes and long burgundy lashes that brush against his cheeks when he closes his eyes and sighs in content letting the warm liquid invade his mouth, the sweet taste causing a delightful crinkle to form at the corner of his eyes. Today was a special day and the knight couldn't help but sigh in a dreamy fashion, his chest heaving with motion as he moved to rest his chin on his calloused palm. The cup soon sits empty and discarded by the sink as he changes into his armor, the stark white metal a beautiful backdrop for the accents of gold that lay polished amongst the crimson fabric that bears the noble embroidery of thorns. The clank of his boots echo happily as his gloved hand grips the shaft of the mighty spear, eyes gleaming with an air of determination. Sunlight cast a pleasant warmth on his features as he basked in the glow of such a beautiful morning, the sweet smell of his flowers fluttered in the air and he couldn't help the airy chuckle that left his lungs as he plucked a rose from its bush. Sweet Carmine petals that embraced each other in tight spirals before fanning out beautifully at the edges to give a full look. 

Clanking of silver boots against well trodden cobblestone paths echoed in the meryment of the small town, bakers set fresh loaves of bread and sweet cakes out with their steem wafting into the breeze, children ran and giggled merrily in the street kicking a ball, people wave and greet him, his trademark locks of ruby pour over his back and stop at his waist as he walks. 

“Ah good morning sir argenti” a woman greets, she sits telling a story to a small gaggle of children. “Good morning m’lady, you are as beautiful as this fine mourning” he says with sincerity. Complement, praise, and poetry always seemed to fall so naturally from him, perhaps it was his constitution as a knight or it was just in his nature, whatever the case he felt it his duty to make everything know how beautiful it truly was. The woman smiled and turned her attention back to the wide eyes of the children. 

“What happened next!” one of them asked, no doubt having already heard whatever tale it was countless times. “They were turned into a horrible monster! With snarling fangs and large horns! Pitch black eyes and mangy fur” the woman told, moving her hands to mimic the horns as she pretended to growl to scare the children. “Ah, this story again” argenti thought to himself quietly, his smile fading ever so slightly. Ever since he was a wide eyed boy he never liked the tale, it was not a tale steeped in myth and magic, the pages of its book not yet yellowed by time as only one decade had passed since its horrid conception. 

A young boy of 17 sits around the fire with the other much older knight, their armor intricate while his simple, hair chopped short while his lays against his back pulled back into a low ponytail. The scarlet wisps of a crackling fire brush gently against the blackened cracking wood logs, smoldering sticks hiss and wheeze while a stew cooks over the fire. The older men and women laugh as they share stories, Argenti sits and quietly admires the color of the flame until something catches his ears. “Well- did ya hear? Say they were cursed something nasty” one man speaks animatedly waving his hands, the young knight's head turned towards the rambling man “poor kid- well..guess kid aint the right word now. More like a rabid animal” he sighs. “I dont think ive ever seen an animal as horrid as what was described” another knight chimes in. “Pure evil is what they say…a beast” it has not been the first time the ruby haired knight hurd tales of monsters, however this sat in his head until a year later the truth had all but faded into obscurity. Those too young to remember the tale simply left it to fade into legend, a bedtime story to tide children over, those who were old enough to remember refused to believe such fairy tales. But the beautiful knight believed, and in his noble heart he found no hate for the unfortunate soul. How could one so kind be truly evil? Even if their visage has been warped, surely the kind heart must remain? It was unjust to wish someone such harm. The words wrapped around his heart, constricting it until it burst with every new time he heard the abhorrent retelling, it was an ugly feeling that arose within his chest, as if it were a crushing weight or the moon plucking the tides of his mind to some dismal disgust. He had never once stopped the honeyed words that followed freely in his veins. 

“Perhaps their appearance has changed, yet a kind heart persits through such suffering” he ignored the oblong glance's people always shot his way, his gloved hand and gauntlet red upon his chest above his heart, the cold metal was no comfort to him. “Ah sir argenti, ever the optimist” the women chuckled. The skys stretched on endlessly, a sea of cerulean blue and gentle whispers of cotton white. Boundless and forgiving even with harsh rain or gentle downpour, he wondered if even if only for a second if the legend was truly just that. A tale eating the stomach of tragedy, spun with gold thread into something ugly in spite of its jewels. The thought played in his mind like a music box turning endlessly, he allowed his feet to carry him to the edge of the town where he found himself in a field of green. 

A sprawling field of soft grass that gave way to lush trees and overgrown flora. Breath flooded his lungs before he exhaled deeply, this was of course what he had come for, to see if truly the legend was only that, nothing but words scrawled on a page and bound in treated leather. Part of him hoped, desperately so, that it was true. Even if it was fleeting he hoped, if he was wrong then he'd find an abandoned castle deep in the forest, and if he was right then he would find a person turned beast with a heart that he, in his delusion, believed would be kind. So once again a knight set off down the fading path, but perhaps for the first time the knight had no intention of slaying a beast, but rather telling them of their beauty. 

The fading path and rough hike through the forest did not dissuade him, even as the blues of the sky faded to warm hues of orange and pink he remained steadfast in his determination until finally the path came into view once again and the tall iron gates fell into his sight. They stood tall and imposing, rusting slightly and flaking their once gorgeous luster. As his hand gripped the cold metal it seemed to push open with a piercing creak, never locked he pushed it open as the rusted hinges scream and wail. Ever courteous he pushes it shut once more, observing how the land basks in the warm color of dusk, he noted the sprawling vines and well maintained hedges, not overgrown or unruly, the sight astonishes him and fills him with the hope that he is right. What monster maintains beauty that has long forsaken it? He gazes at the large doors with their intricate carvings and heavy knockers. Much like the iron gate they seem to simply push open, the castle is dark, the beautiful double staircase wrapped gently in crown molding and intricate scrolling leafs and crests, yellowed glow illuminating the marble steps. It was grand, the picture of an illuminating fairy tail, the carpets were pristine as he looked around, two large pillars holding the stone carvings of angel-esque figures. The most surprising thing is the many flowers that sit in elaborate porcelain vases, fired with gold and pure white, roses of every kind, orchids of all hues dance with color in the subtle candle light, lilies and peonies mixed in with sprigs of baby's breath and queen anne’s lace. 

A squeaked gasp hits his ears, auburn red locks shifting as his paris green eyes landed on a maid. He perked up at the sight- a maid? There was a maid? Oh joy if there was truly a maid and staff then surely- “leave- please just leave” her voice trembled as she shook, the feather duster in her hand trembling. He was shocked before he realized the gleaming tip of his red spear didn't send the message he wanted. “Ah my lady, you need not fear, I-” she cut him off suddenly, having a rather indignant tone.  “The liege is not a monster! So take your spear and-” she angrily waves the feather duster when the door sitting at the top of the grand staircase slams open, the old hinges creaking as the deafening sound echoes in the quiet night air. 

Spring. That is all Argenti can think of, the cool breath of spring, the rushing of crystalline waters against smooth stones replaces the rushing of blood hammering in his ears. Ensnared his heart beat to the rhythm of their footsteps, a quick descent down the stairs accompanied only by the sound of wolfish feet padding against the marble. In his stupor Argenti did not miss the clawed hand extended protectively in front of the maid, the fur was thick and covered the large palm entirely as it did the rest of your body, sharp claws protruded at every fingertip as obsidian daggers, but there was an air of gentle protectiveness. In Spite of the pointed teeth and morphed animal-like features that warp your face, it remains unfathomably human. Anger, worry, and inexplicably fear, where displayed as the most beautiful stained glass mural, even the twist of your horns and the gentle downward sweep of your ears could only add to the haunting visage of something- someone once human. Pools of (e/c) flickered in the candle light, an enchanted lake whose siren song left the beautiful man breathless. A hopeless sort of breathless no air could satisfy, a breathless feeling only felt on the brink of death with a monster's gnarled fangs deep in your throat, when you are so stricken with fear that your very blood urges you to the brink of madness if it means an escape. It was not fear he felt. A sort of breathless that strikes the hot iron of longing, felt when one is so impossibly overcome with boiling love that it steels the air in their lungs, that if denied even a moment of its cause- death would be swift, it was not fangs he felt against his neck, not blood that made his body warm, it was the graze of a lovers soft lips, it was the warmth of blush that spread up his neck, a pit in his stomach felt only in the face of inevitable death or love. To be in love, to fall from heaven willingly wandering by another's side, to know pain in their absence, to kiss the scars on their mind and body as if you could will flowers to bloom sweet blossoms in their wake.

A hopeless sort of breathless no air could satisfy, for you alone could ease this burning in his lungs, simply turn your eyes, beautifully human eyes, turn them towards him and gaze at him longingly as he gazes at you. 

Before a single growled word could leave you, Argenti stepped forward, spear standing tall and firm in his grip as he fell into a kneel at your feet. Clad in the bright untarnished silver of his gauntlet, his hand outstretched as if reaching out to touch the sky itself and betwixt the plates of sterling metal rests a brilliant rose red in hue and pristine in its petals. His eyes roamed over your large figure as if to commit every detail to his memory. His actions, these feelings that flooded him were unlike anything he had felt, the only fair comparison in his mind being when he felt something was truly beautiful. A feeling without real reason, the feeling of beauty and this inexplicable feeling of longing, of love, could only be considered instinct. To love you was instinct, to fall to his knee rose in hand was instinct, the words he spoke next sent a pliable shock through the florid castle halls, forged by instinct yet tempered by the pure desire and longing in his heart.

“Marry me” 

Anger dies on your tongue as you stare down at the flamboyant knight, who you had assumed came to attempt your life, kneeling before you anticipating your response to his proposal…his proposal…the most gorgeous man you had ever laid eyes on just proposed…to you, a hideous monster. Surely this must be some kind of cruel joke. Ten years of this mangled body, ten years of knights with their spears and swords, their slings of arrows and suits of armor beating down the open door and speaking words of hate and torment, how they would save the staff from their prison, how they would no longer be forced to serve in fear of a monster. 10 years of what felt like lifetimes. “Leave this place” you growl raising a clawed hand in an attempt to frighten the knight, your voice booming and filling his ears forcing out all other sounds. A deep sigh left him as he returned to his feet, only reaching just below your broad shoulders despite the fact the man was quite tall himself. The sigh sounded sad, wholly dejected as he stood, you braced for the pain of his scream, the sound of armored boots hitting the tiled floor as he ran, perhaps even the cut of his spear that you knew wouldn't even get the chance to hit you before you had shattered it, but nothing came, instead without fear he reached for your large paw like hand and kissed the fur that lined the inside of your wrist. His eyes gleam as if polished by the newfound determination while he slowly brings his adoring gaze to meet yours. “My darling, would you truly turn me away from you?” his slender fingers clad in silver intertwine, delicate touch careful of your claws yet… it is not out of fear, but out of a tenderness as if he were scared you would be hurt. “I am afraid that i cannot bear to part with you” his touch was fire on your skin, every brush of his hands igniting that fear and anxiety deep in the recesses of your mind. From somewhere- who really knows where, the knight presents a rose in all its glory, red velvet petals a brilliant hue in the candlelight. 

“I am Argenti, may this rose convey my heartfelt affections- I find myself quite taken by you. I will not stop until I have taken your hand in marriage, not even the stars could keep me from the beauty you hold” no matter the delicate words he employed, the promise that tinged the corners of his speech was punctuated by a fire blazing deep in the bowls of madness. He must be mad, to gaze upon the abomination that stands before him and proclaim its beauty; he must be either mad or blind, perhaps both. Anger filled you again, the flowery words he used only serving to rub salt in wounds that never close, that voice in your head, the voices of all who had to bear witness to the misfortune of the once great noble house echoed with cruel laughter in your ears.

“Fine! If you will not leave then you may stay till you rot!” the sentence came out as a vicious growl, clawed paw seeding his arm as you dragged him into the castle, down pristine winding halls adorned with the same intricate that flooded the foyer and entrance, the mocking forced smiles of ancestors, once pompous lords and ladies staring as the scenery rushes by until his boots clank against cold stone as opposed to gleaming tile. The cold air whipped through barred windows as he was taken deeper, deeper, deeper. At last he was all but thrown into the cell at the very end of the hall, the rusting iron smell hung thick in the air as you glared down at his chest heaving. “In your persistence you will find no solace” was the last thing he heard, as the bars of the cell were slammed shut and the heavy fall of your clawed feet echoed away from him. Emerald eyes burned holes into your back, lids heavy and irises laden with adoration and affection, when your beastly form was ripped from his sight he turned his gaze out he bared window and upon the garden and shining moon that now pranced among the stars. 

You poor thing, so jaded by the ugliness of others who refuse to see the beauty in your soul. He knew you were kind, behind the towering walls you have built stone by stone there was kindness long forgotten. The knight saw it, he saw it in the way you rushed in defense of the maid, in the way you gave him a chance to run away, in the way your grip on his arm was neither harsh nor bruising, in the way your claws- like the paws of a wolf stretched and mangled to be longer like a humans held his offering of a rose gently even as you walked away. He saw that kindness even now as he stood imprisoned in your castle, unchained, and with the bars of the cell unlocked, easily pushed ajar by the gentle touch of his hands…every opportunity to flee, run back to his cottage and find another to love, but who was this humble knight to deny the blessing bestowed upon him? For you were his blessing, an end to this curse of loneliness, and he was your knight, the one who would end your curse of melancholy. He would show you the beauty you possess, to him you were a vision, an eternal blessing he could not live without. 

He was yours, whether you knew his devotion yet was simply writing on the page, he would ensure that you knew his love, that you knew you were loved. 

You are loved. 

[pseudowho]

In from the Cold

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

After a mission gone wrong, the Reader is left wandering confused, cold and alone in the biting snow- only Nanami Kento can save you, and warm you up.

WARNINGS: Angst, fluff, smut, PIV intercourse, fingering, handjobs, fluffy intercourse

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"[...]The only other sound’s the sweep    Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,    But I have promises to keep,    And miles to go before I sleep,    And miles to go before I sleep."

-- Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

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"[...] Hurt myself again today And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame

Be my friend, hold me Wrap me up, enfold me I am small and needy Warm me up and breathe me."

-- Sia, Breathe Me

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Oh, god, Kento. Please find me. I'm so cold. I'm so cold. I'm so tired. I'm so afraid to fall asleep, in case I never get to say goodbye. In any other world, in any other universe, you would find me and I'd be warm.

Curled on wet cardboard boxes against a stack of bins, the shivers had now stopped. You felt the cold deep in your belly as you fought desperately against sleep. Blinking away tears, the thick falling snow and orange streetlights bled together, and you felt yourself drift, heavy, unmoving...

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The day had started like any other. Pulling on your usual mission attire, Kento leaned in and gave you a smooth goodbye kiss while pulling his tie through its loop. Separate missions, separate sides of the city, and neither expected to be much of a challenge to a pair of seasoned, competent sorcerers.

You gripped Kento's hair and pulled him back for a second kiss, his chest rumbling with a deep chuckle.

"Go, love," he had warned, faux-stern as he squeezed your hips, "if we're done with work fast, I'll be all yours, all evening."

You groaned against his lips, and nuzzled into his firm neck, breathing deeply of his smell; a spiced cologne, deep and woody and undeniably Kento.

"Promises, promises, darling. I'll bring the wine, you bring the bread and cheese?" Murmuring his assent into your hair, you reluctantly pulled away, mischief sparkling in your eyes. Kento turned you by the shoulders, and when he patted your bum towards the door, you laughed.

"Be safe, Kento. I love you!" and you had swept out the doorway as Kento shook his head fondly. You stepped out into the bitter cold, hailing a taxi- you would get yourself there today, but Ijichi was on call to collect you later. Enjoying the peace of a taxi journey where neither you nor the driver wished to chat, you rested your forehead against the window and watched as the first fat flakes of snow fell upon the Tokyo streets.

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Many hours had passed. Your curse had been much stronger, more vicious and tenacious than expected. With absolute focus, skill and determination, you had cleansed the abandoned hospital of its filthy inhabitant, and stood shaking, dazed and alone.

As you struggled to collect your thoughts, your arms were heavy as lead as they tried to take stock of your body, your injuries. Multiple and minor, you determined, but a firm crack to the temple as you had been swept aside by a thrashing tail, left your head throbbing and fuzzy.

Pipes had been wrenched from the walls and spewed frigid water. You were soaked through, and as the adrenaline faded you began to shiver, deep violent shivers all the way through to your stomach. Your mask and glasses were shattered across the floor. Face bare, and vision impaired, you reached into your pocket grasping your phone in its ziplock bag.

With despair, you looked down at your phone. It was utterly ruined, smashed and soaked, ziplock bag ripped open by the cracked and warped glass of the device.

Nodding slowly to yourself, and glancing out the first floor windows into the pale of the night, the eerie glow told you the snow had fallen deep and thick upon the ground.

Ijichi will be here by now, you reasoned to yourself. I'll be home and in a nice hot bath before I know it.

You wobbled towards the staircase, assuring yourself you were fine. Gripping the bannister, you took the flight of stairs at an unsteady pace. Your fingers felt like putty, cold and numb against the dark wood.

You pushed the ageing front doors open, hearing the frosted chains clank, broken, against the metal. Looking onto the streets eagerly for Ijichi, you did not notice the sheets of ice beneath the fresh snow on the steps, and slid backwards hard, your head cracking on the concrete.

Crying out, coughing and winded, you slid down the rest of the steps. Vision blurring, you raised a tentative hand to the back of your head, wincing as you felt the sharp tang of split skin. The bleeding seemed minimal, but your head only throbbed harder.

Pulling yourself up from the snow, you heard only the sounds of snow-hushed suburbia. The old hospital was on the outskirts of Tokyo, now silent and abandoned, and faint orange streetlights ahead of you told of a quiet street, its residents all in bed, or soon to be. Ijichi was nowhere in sight.

Unlike him, you thought to yourself with a gulp. Body still wracked with shivers, pain, and confusion, you took a meandering walk through the crunching snow, all the way around the hospital.

As your path reconnected with your original footprints, which were now softened by continued snowfall, you were forced to conclude that Ijichi was not here.

Growing colder and more confused, you set your pace firmly towards the street ahead. If you could find a phone, work out exactly where you were, or hail a taxi home, you would be fine. Patting your pockets with rubbery fingers, you felt for your thin purse, always stocked with emergency cash and your bank card.

Your heart sank. Gone, and lost, somewhere in the chaos of the fight. No phone. No cards. No cash. No idea where you were. You stared helplessly back at the hospital, now as good as miles away with the state you were in. You stood at a crossroads between houses, each rolling street looking just the same as the next, but you saw the Tokyo skyscrapers in the distance and set your course.

Your clothes soon became stiff with the blood and water, and snow collected in your hair, body and soul feeling dank, heavy and wet. Desperate, you hesitated by a house with a light on downstairs. Maybe they'll let me use their phone? At your first step towards the front door, the downstairs lift switched off and you halted.

You laughed bitterly to yourself, at your thought that a soaked and blood covered stranger in the night, and a foreigner no less, would be welcomed into this Tokyo home. If they didn't slam the door, they'd simply call the Police.

No, you thought, best bet is just to keep walking and get home to Kento. Get home to Kento. Get home to Kento. You continued these words like a mantra as you walked, and walked, and walked, dead-legged and deeply, concerningly cold now, and it just went on and on and on, and even when you started passing shops and restaurants and strangers who veered around you with hands clasped over their mouths and words of shock to their friends and partners you just kept walking dazed and lost now and so tired and so cold and you just needed a rest before you carried on into the night and the laughter from bars and music from clubs washed over you as you lost your footing again and again and took a tumble down an alleyway desperate for somewhere out of the snow and fell onto wet cardboard against a bin that was so comfortable as you rested your weary spinning head.

You started to sob, soft and pathetic, whispering pleas for Kento to come to you, to carry you home, to whisper sweet things in your ears. You were too far gone to see reason or a way out, feeling your brain shut down in the cold.

"Hey, hey! What have we got here? Hey cutie, are you lost?" You glanced up feebly to see three or four shadows leaning over you, all men, and the smell of beer hit your nose.

"Please can you help me?" you stuttered in broken Japanese, "I'm so cold."

The shadows laughed and jeered, and you felt a hand grip your arm to pull you up, as the man in front cooed, "Don't you worry sweetheart, we can get you nice and warm, right boys?"

Another, familiar voice cut through the alleyway, dark and threatening.

"Get your filthy fucking hands off her. If her fiancé doesn't rip your dicks off, I'm happy to oblige."

You were dropped back against the bin as the men scattered, and cool long fingers pulled your face upwards to see the face of Satoru, your dear friend, hair as white as the snow. He pulled you up easily with one arm, his other hand pressing his phone to his ear.

"Nanami. I've got her. I've got her. Come to the car, now." Satoru hung up, and bent down, hoisting you onto his back. "Bet you've never been so happy to see me, huh, kiddo?" His attempt at lightheartedness was tight and easily gave away his fear. You clutched at his jacket, weeping with relief, and opening your eyes as you heard frantic footsteps rush to reach you and Satoru.

"Shit, Gojo, where did you find her? Shit, shit, shit, she's soaked. Darling, are you awake?"

A goofy smile on your face, you gazed at Kento like you'd seen an angel; absolute panic on his usually stoic face, hair messy and wet, and bundling you from Gojo's back into the back of the car, he was still just as handsome as you always knew him.

"Gojo, give me your shirt, anything warm and dry. I've got to undress her. You drive."

You felt Kento's huge warm fingers begin to deftly rid you of your sodden clothes. Satoru, unusually serious and quiet, put the heating on full blast and rumbled the car to life. You remained impassive and smiling blankly at Kento as he pulled Gojo's shirt and his own shirt onto your cold body. He slipped off his shoes, removed his socks and pulled them onto your own, holding your toes between his hands and breathing hot breath onto them. Wrapping his overcoat around you, Kento pulled you into his lap, covering you in as much of his body as he could manage. Warmth washed over you, Kento's body a furnace. He pushed your hands under his undershirt, chilly against his solid chest. You hummed happily, curling your toes, finally safe. You drifted in and out of sleep, taking in snippets of conversation.

"Ijichi...miscommunication...thought he was supposed to get me..."

"No word from her...hours and hours...lost."

You snapped out of your thoughts as Kento insisted that Gojo drive you to Jujutsu High, to wake up Shoko, to spend the night there.

"No!" you blurted out, and both men looked to you, Satoru in the rear view mirror, "No, I'm okay. I just need a warm bath, a warm bed and some plasters. I'm alright. I'm already feeling a lot better."

Kento looked at you like you'd grown another head as Satoru laughed.

"See, Nanami? She's great! No weaklings in this car tonight!"

Kento scowled at him. "She's clearly concussed, Gojo. She's taken at least two knocks to the head. She goes to Shoko, no arguments."

"She's not concussed! Hey kiddo, what's the capital of Azerbaijan?"

"Satoru, I don't know that and I'm damn sure you don't either."

Satoru laughed again, "Alright, what's my favourite drink?"

"You don't drink."

"Ding ding ding! Correct. What's Megumi's surname?"

"Fushiguro."

"Correct again! What month is it?"

"December," you said warmly, excited and reminded of your festive plans with Kento.

Kento had remained silent throughout, peering down at you, and now met your eyes. Reading you gently, he caressed your cheek. "Are you sure? I'd never forgive myself...if you're hurt..."

You put your finger to his lips.

"All I need right now is you, a hot bath, and home."

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

"Ah ah ah, what do you think you're doing?" Kento stood from his stool by the bathroom door, as you began to pull yourself out of the bath. Shirtless, Kento reached his arms into the water, lifting your bruised bodily easily against his own. Ignoring your demands for him to put you down, that he'd get all wet, that you were perfectly capable of walking, he carried you to bed, placing you onto a nest of towels and beginning to lovingly dry you. You softened as he continued in silence, serious and committed in his attentiveness. As he finished drying your feet, he lifted your ankle to his shoulder, kissing your calf gently as you reached forward to brush your thumb against his cheek.

He placed your leg gently down and turned to the drawers behind him, rummaging for pyjamas.

"I don't want them, Kento. I just want you. Your skin on mine."

With a quiet hum, he closed the drawers, and flipped the covers of the bed. Leaning over you, he placed your arms around the back of his neck. You clasped your hands, and he crawled smoothly up the bed, resting you on the pillows and settling beside you with a sigh. Chest to chest, Kento held you, silently nuzzling into your damp hair.

A residual shiver crept along your skin, the memory of the cold still deep within your body, ice cubes in your belly and muscles. Kento felt tense, and you nuzzled into his throat, yearning forthe heat inside that only he could give you. You licked delicately along the front of his throat, raising your thigh up insistently over his hip.

Kento's body stiffened, and he grasped your thigh in his broad palm.

"Don't even try it," he growled, "you've just been through hell, you are injured, and you need to rest." He groaned as you rocked your hips against his, bare pussy whispering against the material of his pyjamas. Gripping your hip firmly, he pressed you back into the bed and loomed over you, thigh still pinned between your legs.

Kento faltered at your expression, tearful and pleading. "I can't get rid of the cold. It's so deep, I was so afraid. Please Kento. I need you to warm me up."

Kento swallowed thickly. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. You could never hurt me." You took his hand, and guided it down your breasts and tummy, ghosting against you as you rested it between your legs.

Resolve broken, Kento laid his body firmly against yours, grinding deftly between your legs. He shuddered, his own eyes narrowed and dark, and kissed you softly, the wetness of his tongue against your own making you moan into his open mouth.

One hand working delicately between your folds, and the other grasping the back of your neck, he dipped one finger inside your pussy to gather its wetness, and brought the finger, agonisingly slowly, back up to stroke circles over your clit. Bringing his face down to your breasts, seemingly unable to look you in the eyes, he glossed his tongue over your nipple, taking it fully into his mouth and moaning around it as he played your body like an instrument.

Warmth began to spread through you, and you whispered your moans and his name like a psalm, rocking against his fingers as he stroked two fingers deep inside you, his thumb continuing circles on your clit with patient consistency. Your hand grasped his hair, hard, as you panted and whined, feeling your orgasm approach.

Feeling his cock, hard and heavy against your leg, you ground up into him and were rewarded with a heady moan against your breast.

"My love," he gasped, as you reached down a hand inside his pyjamas, squeezing his length, his stuttering moans and sticky precum the last element you needed to push you over the edge. You cried out his name, squeezing his cock and hair as heat filled your belly and waves of pleasure rolled through you. Kento buried his face into your neck, slowly thrusting, thick and long, into your hand. He was silent as he kicked off his pyjamas, and, taking your grasping hand from his length, he laced your fingers with his and pinned it above his head.

Naturally, effortlessly, he pressed his whole length inside you, groaning shakily as he bottomed out. Bringing your thighs around his hips, he moaned in satisfaction as he felt your ankles lock around him. You saw stars, feeling him move deeply, kissing your cervix, finally feeling warm again.

"Please don't stop-- you feel incredible-- I can feel you in my belly...I...I..."

You felt a sudden dampness at your neck where Kento's face was pressed, his thrusts becoming more insistent, barely pulling out of you as he rutted you against the bed. With a pang, you realised he was crying.

"Of all the dangers...of all the Curses we...haah...we face--" Kento's voice broke as he moaned against your ear, gripping your thighs tighter around him, "...and I nearly lose you to the fucking cold. You were afraid, but I was too. I thought I'd find you...find you dead... from such a thoughtless mistake."

You held him close, whispering love into his ear, feeling pleasure build and build deep within you again as he gasped and moaned, only ever partially pulling out, hitting your most sensitive spot again, and again.

"Gods, you feel so good. So warm, I...I'm not going to last...please darling..." His clever fingers reached down to draw circles on your clit again, and his thrusts became sloppy as you spasmed and fluttered around his cock, head thrown back in ecstasy as you called his name in bliss.

Kento came hard, white lights in his eyes as he pulsed deep inside you, filling you with his warm seed. Trembling, and laying butterfly kisses across your cheeks and nose, he collapsed to the side, pulling you with him, chest to chest again.

You both lay, warm to the core, in peaceful silence. The snow continued to fall outside, and the wind whistled over the windows, and you felt Kento's chest rise and fall against your own.

"I'm so sorry, Kento. I tried so hard to get home." Kento shushed you gently, pressing his lips to your forehead in a tender kiss.

"It wasn't your fault. It was all bad luck and circumstance. First thing in the morning, we'll look into the most indestructible phones on the market."

You giggled into the pillow, and succumbed to sleep together, Kento still nestled inside you, keeping you warm.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Kento padded around the kitchen the next morning, in only grey joggers and his Danish grandfather's old woolen cardigan. You were tucked up in blankets on the sofa, enjoying your second round of tea and toast, while Kento's phone lit up with messages of concern for you, from students and staff at Jujutsu High. He responded to them all patiently, reassuring everyone that you were now safe and warm and working your way through a small bakery.

Two exquisite bunches of flowers were delivered to Kento's door in quick succession- one from Ijichi and one from Nitta. After collecting Kento from his mission, neither had attended to collect you as both had believed the other to be on duty for you. Kento snorted derisively, considering murder as an option.

He sent thanks to Gojo, whose exceptional six-eyes had found you when nobody else could. Kento tapped his phone thoughtfully against his lips as he draped your legs over his lap on the sofa. Perhaps he would get Gojo a Christmas present this year.

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This was my first smut for quite some time. I hope you enjoyed a read, HMU sometime ✌️💓

[dabiconcordia]

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep. by Robert Frost

[bridenore]

HD Owlpost 2023 recs

Here are some of my favorite fics from @hdowlpost 2023. Listed in alphabetical order.

Never Have I Ever Thought That You Might Want Me, Too by @drarrymyheart [8k]

“When it’s his turn, Ron gives Harry an ominous look. “Never have I ever wanted to kiss any of the boys in this room.” Harry freezes. Dean, Seamus, Hermione, Hannah, Pansy, and even Blaise are all immediately lifting their drinks. Malfoy moves to pick his up as well and Harry tracks the movement as if watching in slow-motion…The ridge of Malfoy’s bottle of cider pushes against his lower lip as he takes a sip. Harry nearly groans. Steeling himself, Harry drinks.” Harry and the crew take a ski trip. Harry can’t seem to keep his eyes and thoughts off a certain blonde.

Of easy wind and downy flake by @starquestingfordrarry [14k]

It’s snowing in July, and it’s Malfoy’s fault. Or, the one where the house wants the boys to kiss.

Say It Out Loud by @pheaphilus [11k]

Eighth year was bollocks, as far as Draco could tell.

That Which Remains by @sitaz [2k]

Being a Junior Auror is not what Harry expected it to be. And the unregistered Veela in cell 4 does look familiar...

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[freckleslikestars]

Mistletoe Kisses

Christmas MSR smut, what more could you want

3303 Words, read here on AO3

She’d been pissy with him all day, agitated and grumpy, snapping at the mildest of questions, and checking her watch constantly. Of course, he understood. Her brother was coming into town, bringing the family, for Christmas at her mother’s. Just another painful reminder of Christmas’s past. And so it didn’t really bother him so much when at ten to five she gave a sharp sigh and stood from her side of the desk, abruptly pushing her chair away and muttering as she jammed papers into her briefcase.

‘I’m heading out.’

‘Okay. What time do you want me at your Mom’s tomorrow?’ her brow furrowed. ‘Christmas Eve? At your Mom’s. That’s- that’s if you still want me to come. I mean, I don’t want to impose, and you’re not...’

‘Tomorrow. Yeah. No, um, I’ll swing by at around two and pick you up?’

‘Okay. Sounds good.’ They hadn’t been...doing whatever it was that they were doing – some undefined, unnameable...thing – for long. A couple months – slightly longer if you counted the time four months ago when they tumbled into bed together after an intense case. And the night after his mother’s death when he sought comfort in her in the only way he could. And, really, if you considered the week after the New Year, where they barely left her bed and then refused to talk about it, both swearing it wouldn’t happen again, it was fast approaching a year that they’d been doing...well, whatever it was they were doing.

But it wasn’t serious. Unless you took into account all the unspoken things between them. The fact he’d silently hoped and silently mourned alongside her throughout round after round of IVF. The way he’d felt about her since...as long as he could remember. The lengths he’d gone to to save her and keep her by his side. And, of course, the fact that she was it for him, no matter how little they’d ever discussed any future together.

But it wasn’t serious. They were just having fun, screwing around behind the government’s back. Only, he’d started spending multiple nights in a row at her place, and she at his in turn. It seemed tonight was going to be the first night in a long, long time now that he wasn’t to be going home with her. And, of course, he was going to be spending Christmas with her family. Staying at her mother’s house. Meeting the extended family.

So... maybe not as casual as they were telling themselves.

He sighed, cracking his neck and reclining back in his chair, picking up the next file from the haphazard pile on his desk and flicking through it with little interest. He was worried that she wasn’t ready for him to meet her family, that going along tomorrow was a bad idea, that there was too much pressure on it. Because whilst this was it for him, whilst there was nothing and no one he wanted more than her, he still wasn’t certain that she was on the same page, and he really didn’t want to push it so far that he lost her.

Having absorbed nothing of the file he was reading, he decided that he’d try and read it through one more time before packing it in and heading home for the night. Ten minutes later and he was giving up, deciding that a night of leftover Chinese and Star Trek reruns was mildly more appealing than staring at barely convincing reports of sea monsters and Yetis. Mildly.

Traffic was hellish, a city of people leaving for the holidays and doing last-minute shopping, clogging the roads and making his drive impossibly slow. Tinny Christmas songs crackled over his car stereo as downy flakes of snow started tumbling down, catching in the taillights of the cars ahead and melting on the tarmac. As he inched closer to home, he let his mind wander and allowed himself to fantasise about tomorrow and about future Christmases to come. They hadn’t exactly discussed in what capacity he’d be attending the Scully family Christmas, and whilst he was fairly certain that Maggie at least suspected that they were together, he was also pretty sure that Scully hadn’t disclosed the nature of their relationship to any of her family. But that didn’t stop him from daydreaming of dropping sweet, chaste kisses on her cheek as they helped lay the table and wrapping his arms around her waist as she stood chatting with her aunt by the fireplace, finding a hidden corner to murmur sweet nothings into her ear and kiss her until her cheeks flushed.

The crawl home took twice as long as usual, and by the time he’d pulled into his parking space, the desire to go over to her place, crawl into bed next to her and forget the swirling snow and holiday traffic until the new year, was only dampened by the thought of spending even more time on the road and the idea that maybe she wouldn’t be so welcoming of his uninvited appearance after the day she’d had.

His building was quiet as he traipsed his way up the stairs, not before sending a glare towards the elevator that had been out of service for the past week, and he only passed one neighbour on his way up to the fourth floor, bobbing his head in a slight nod, a murmured ‘merry Christmas’ as they passed one another.

He sensed it as soon as he stepped into his apartment, the presence of another soul. He wasn’t sure what set his senses off, but there was something...not quite right. Everything was still, untouched, silent; everything perfectly in its place. But there was a hint of cinnamon in the air, a fresh breath of familiar musky perfume hidden under it.

Shedding his coat and toeing off his shoes, he placed his briefcase by the door with measured precision, biding his time and waiting to see if she’d come out of hiding. Assuming she’d fallen asleep when she didn’t come out to find him, he tiptoed his way into the bedroom, swallowing thickly when he saw her.

She was a fantasy, all diaphanous red and white lace, sat primly on the centre of his bed, a coy, inviting smile tugging at her lips. A fuzzy Santa hat was perched crookedly atop her head and she dangled a sprig of mistletoe between her fingertips, the spray of white berries drooping down above her cinnamon lips.

‘Hi.’

She gave a delicate wiggle of her fingers before twisting her hand and beckoning him with a come-hither crook. A low grown rumbled through his chest as he staggered towards the bed, his knees hitting the frame with a thunk. 'Merry Christmas, Mulder.'

'Bit early for Christmas presents, isn't it?'

'Are you complaining?'

'Certainly not,' he shook his head, clambering onto his bed and shuffling up to her, 'you look…incredible.'

She smiled up at him softly, 'I thought you'd like it.'

'Like it? This is my favourite item of clothing now,' he pinched red chiffon between his fingers, rubbed the white lace trim with reverence.

'I bet you'd like what's under it even more,' she leant forwards, catching his lips with her own in a soft, tender kiss - almost chaste in it's comforting familiarity - the arm holding the mistletoe dropping down to rest against his head, holding him to her.

'Oh, without a doubt,' he murmured against her. His hands had started wandering, cupping her breasts through the lace, ghosting across her stomach, toying with the straps and disappearing beneath the hem of the babydoll. 'But I enjoy unwrapping my presents just as much as the present itself.'

'Some presents are fun to play with in their wrapping,' with the mistletoe in hand, she guided his lips down her chest, gave a sinful moan as he laved his tongue over a pebbled nipple, closed his teeth gently around it. With a shift of the mistletoe, he turned his attentions to the other breast, leaving his hand to finish his work. He peeled away the cup of the babydoll, pressing his face into her warm flesh, humming at the familiar scent of her; apricot shower gel and the perfume she gets from the department store, and the slightly musky spike of her that he can always detect after a day's work. She mewled, her free hand twisting into his hair and anchoring him to her, a soft plea falling from her lips.

Without needing her to guide him, he worked his way down her chest as she reclined back into the pillows, pressing wet kisses to her stomach through the diaphanous material, drawing it up to reveal a matching red thong. He nudged her legs apart, groaning at the sight, 'you're so naughty, Scully. So damn naughty. And I am one lucky sonofabitch,' his humid breath pressed in on her cunt, his nose barely ghosting across the soft, pale flesh of her inner thigh.

'I'll remind you of that next time you ditch me in favour of chasing after Bigfoot,' her voice caught as his tongue darted out to lick along the elastic of her panties.

'I'll make it my new year's resolution, how about that?'

'Won't stick,' she muttered, groaning when he placed a wet, open kiss over her slit, sucking on the flesh either side of her thong with a blissful moan.

He pushed up from her slightly and rested his chin on her pubic bone, gazing up at her with eyes full of mirth, 'well then, next year I'll be on Santa's naughty list, and you can punish me in whatever way you see fit.'

'Is that a promise?'

'Pinky promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. No more ditching you,' he pressed a chaste kiss to the jut of her hipbone, leaning into her palm when she cupped his cheek. 'I think this needs to come off, you know,' he lightly snapped the elastic of her thong, grinning when she squirmed. He hooked two fingers into each side and helped her shimmy them off, following their path with his mouth, kissing and licking and sucking at her legs, all the way down and all the way back up again as he settled before her, prostrate at her alter. She jolted at the first full lick of his tongue up her weeping opening, a whimper escaping her lips when he lapped at her clit.

He was good at this, good at winding her up and undoing her, driving her crazy with his lips and teeth and tongue, his own sounds of pleasure egging her on. He knew how much suction she liked, where on her clit too much was painful, and where the lightest touch could set her off like Times Square on New Years Eve. He knew just when to slip a finger or two into her tight heat, and the perfect way to curl them to have her begging him for more. In just the few months that they'd been doing this regularly, he'd become somewhat of an expert in what made Dana Scully tick, and what made her come. He could write dissertations on in, do a PhD in his partner's oral preferences.

Her back arched and her fingers tightened in his hair, the mistletoe long forgotten. With a hand on the back of her thigh, he guided her leg over his shoulder, moaning when it opened her up further and she used the leverage to draw her closer to him with her foot on his back, her toes curling into the fabric of his shirt. She was so very wet, a core of molten lava in a liquid body, eagerly gasping for more, more, as her hips writhed and thrust against his mouth. One of his hands reached up to join her own on her breast, fondling and massaging and pinching and soothing. His other hand braced around the leg he'd slung over his shoulder, pressed his palm against her lower stomach to stop her from squirming so much. His thumb gently pulled the hood of her clit up to allow it to peek out further, softening his tongue around it to lap gently. She mewled, her grip in his hair tightening when he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked.

'Mulder, please?'

'What do you need, Baby?'

'You. I just need you.'

His cock was straining uncomfortably against his slacks, and other than grinding himself into his mattress, there wasn't a thing he could do in his current position to relieve some of the pressure. He knew, without a doubt, that if he didn't pull her over the edge first, he'd never manage to last when he pressed himself into her tight heat. He flicked his pointed tongue against the left side of her clit, traced it up and down her slit before laving across her with the flat of it. 'You have me.'

She whined, straining against him, 'Mulder?'

'Yes.'

'Make me come.'

He'd do anything for her, of course, and after delving his tongue into her pussy, cleaving her open and lapping at her juices, he pressed two fingers into her, crooking them just so to rub against her front wall. She cried out, releasing the grasp on her breast to tangle her hand into the sheet beside her, gripping and pulling at it. Her muscles clenched and quivered around his digits, rippling with each rhythmic curl, until he gave a hard suck to her clit and she came with a whimper, trembling apart in his arms. He continued to suckle gently at her labia whilst she came down, her gasps calming to the occasional audible breath. She hummed, affectionately combing her fingers through his hair when he placed a delicate kiss to her mons and dropped his head down to rest on her thigh.

'You're overdressed,' she murmured, dragging a limp foot up his still-clothed back.

'I think we can do something about that,' he pushed himself to stand at the foot of the bed, efficiently shedding his work clothes and tossing them vaguely in the direction of his laundry basket.

She beckoned him over, a sly, satiated smile on her lips as she reached for him. Her kiss was ravenous as she tasted herself off his face, desperate as he tugged her down to lie flat on her back and settled himself into the cradle of her thighs. His shaft lay against her still-quivering pussy and he rocked his hips, coating himself in her slick. They both groaned as he pressed into her, their tension from the day melting away as she adjusted to him, his weight settling over her as he pulled out and thrust back in at a glacial pace.

'Christ, you're tight,' he grunted out, gritting his teeth as she clenched around him with a grin. Despite how big he felt within her, she was dripping with arousal, and it didn't take much effort to slip in and out of her.

'Roll over,' she whispered, two fingers tapping on his flank to encourage him. With his grip on her hips, he flipped them so she was atop him, pressing herself up with his palms on his chest. The change in angle had her dropping her head back and shifting her hips in a grinding roll, keeping him nestled inside her.

The room was thick with their gasps as she picked up her pace, lifting herself up and dropping back down onto him, her lingerie fluttering around her with each movement. He couldn't take his eyes from her, beautiful as she was, with her cheeks flushed, one tit falling out of the bra cup he'd pulled down, riding his cock like it was the only way to save her life. The Santa hat on her head had slipped down to the side, and the fuzzy ball swung to-and-fro with her frantic movements, and the sight was charmingly sexy. His fingers dug into her hips, helping her along as the muscles in her thighs quivered and faltered, and she leaned forward to capture his lips in a searing kiss. Her name, a mantra gasped into her mouth as she shattered around him, dragging him over the ledge with her into the trembling depths.

She slumped down onto him, her muscles continuing to milk him for all he was worth, as she trailed kisses down his throat and across his neck, showering him in grateful affection. With a pat to his stomach and a whimper, she pulled herself off of him, disappearing into the bathroom. He could hear her use the toilet, the taps running as she cleaned herself and washed her hands, and the familiar, domestic sounds of her existing in his space made him smile as he rested his eyes, trying to summon the energy to strip and re-dress the bed. She returned before he had the chance to move, flinging the thong he'd pulled off of her into the laundry hamper before crawling over to curl into his side.  

‘Feeling better?’ he asked, trailing his fingertips up her bare arm as she settled her head on his chest.

‘A little,’ she nodded, but he could hear the tightness that still laced her voice. The cooling room around them chilled the sweat on their bodies and she shivered, Mulder pulling the blanket from the foot of his bed up and over them.

‘Wanna talk about it?’

She shrugged against him but nodded, ‘it’s just...Christmas. Mom’s tomorrow. I don’t know if I’ve got the mental energy to deal with it all. It’s already a difficult time, and I just...with Tara being pregnant again and Mom constantly checking that I’m okay and Bill being...Bill. And that’s not even thinking about all the cousins and the aunts and all the “and what about you, Dana?”’

‘Well, I’ll be there to distract you when it all gets too much. And – I might be being a bit presumptive here – but I’d say I’m somewhat of an answer to that question.’

‘You’re the answer that will prompt Cousin Mona to make a joke about sleeping my way to the top and Aunt Eileen to ask you about your shoe size, so...as much as I love that you’re coming, you’re not exactly the saviour of the day. We could just stay in bed all weekend, tell Mom we’ve got food poisoning.’

‘She’d be disappointed.’

‘Yeah...’ she sighed, shaking her head. ‘Besides, I ought to see Matty. Mom says he’s started talking.’

‘How about- how about we call your mom tomorrow morning and tell her that I have the sudden urge to drive down to Raleigh and visit my mother’s grave? She’s not going to question that. We say we’ll try to make it to midnight mass, but it depends on how we feel after the drive, and then we make sure we’re over there for roll call at O’ five hundred sharp Christmas morning. That way, you don’t have to deal with the extended family, Bill will have no ammunition for any of his arguments because you were supporting your partner through the loss of a parent, and if he tried to contest it, he’d come across as the asshole, and you still get to see your mom and Matty on Christmas day.’

She craned her neck up to stare, disbelieving, at him, ‘Mulder, I can’t use your dead mom as an excuse not to see my family.’

‘Call it an early Christmas present. Besides, lying about visiting her grave is the closest I’ve come to spending time with her over the holidays for many, many years.’

She gave a tender smile, ‘I love you so much.’

‘Yeah?’

Swallowing thickly, she nodded and reached up to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, ‘yeah.’

Tagging @today-in-fic

[stardustvanfleet]

Merry Christmas To You — Josh Kiszka x Reader (Fluff)

PAIRING: Josh Kiszka x F!Reader, Fluff

WORDS: 2.2k

SUMMARY: It's a snowy night in early December, and you and your boyfriend Josh are having a cozy night in, decorating your tree. When he puts one of his favorite classic Christmas albums on, the evening becomes even more romantic thanks to an impromptu serenade.

WARNINGS: None beyond kissing, language, mention of alcohol, and minor flirtatious innuendo.

A/N: Happy holidays and Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope you enjoy this incredibly cozy and sugary sweet festive fluff. I had hoped to get this out a bit earlier in the month, but between working two jobs and preparing for the holidays it took a bit longer than expected, so thank you all so much for bearing with me during this time of year that is so damn hectic!!! Some special thanks here go to my loves @sinsofstardust and @losfacedevil for beta reading and being endless sources of both inspiration and love-- I adore y'all!!! I hope you all have a very happy holiday ❤️

FIC BEGINS BELOW THE CUT!

//

It was one of those December nights that you wished you could live in forever. Dusk had fallen early, and a light snow was falling outside; the soft, downy flakes catching in the light of the streetlamps as they tumbled gently towards the ground. For the first time in your new apartment, the one that you and your boyfriend Josh had moved into together just a few months earlier, the view through your window panes was truly beginning to resemble a Christmas card.

You took a sip from your mug of cocoa, which had been generously spiked with Bailey’s, but still tasted dangerously sweet. Turning over your shoulder with a grin, you caught Josh’s eye as he entered the living room with his own mug, steaming hot and piled high with whipped cream. You couldn’t help but feel your heart swell when you saw him— looking so handsome in one of his cozy white sweaters, his curls framing his face so beautifully, it was inevitable that he still gave you butterflies after all this time. 

“Josh, come watch the snow with me, love,” you giggled, curled up on your couch, which was pushed up right up against the largest window in the living room— it had been a perfect spot for watching the leaves change color and eventually fall to the ground, and now it provided an exceptional view of the picturesque wintery scene outdoors. His grin was infectious as he looked over towards the window and mused, crossing the room towards you, “How about that? It looks like we’ve got a winter wonderland on our hands…” reaching the couch rather quickly and setting his mug down on the coffee table.

 He slid in right next to you, his arms immediately wrapping around your waist as he moved to press affectionate kisses to your cheek, one after another, not seeming to want to stop as long as he had you giggling under him.  Finally, you pleaded through your laughter, “Joshy… I don’t see you watching the snow!” as he gave a chuckle of his own and teased, “Ohh, sorry about that, mama… you know how distracted I can get…”

You captured his chin between your fingers with another giggle, feeling heat rising in your cheeks at his use of the pet name which he knew always made you weak in the knees. “Seems particularly easy to get distracted around here….” you replied playfully, before pulling him in and kissing him fully, your heart fluttering at the satisfied sigh he let out against your lips. It was all so endearing, from the softness of his lips to the familiarity of his scent, which was spicy and comforting and floral all at once. There may have been a chill in the air that day, but in the warmth of Josh’s arms, with his lips against yours… despite the weather, it was undeniable— you were melting.

It would have been so easy to get entirely lost in the kiss, but he began to smile against your lips, and pulled back gently, offering you a cheeky smile as he teased back, “Careful, or I’ll get distracted enough that we’ll have to push decorating the tree to another night…” his words making you giggle and lightly, jokingly smack at his arm, chiding, “Joshua… you’re gonna end up on the naughty list….” giving him another quick kiss and a grin before wriggling out of his grasp to rise from the couch towards the large box of ornaments sitting beside the coffee table.

“Hold on, angel…” Josh said, standing up himself as you paused, turning to face him with a smile. He was looking at you with a twinkle in his eye while heading towards the record player set up beside the bookshelf, continuing, “Is it really Christmas if we don’t have the perfect soundtrack?” You watched with amusement as he crouched down to rifle through the large record collection that the two of you had assembled, a wide grin breaking out on his face when he found what he was looking for. “Nat King Cole,” he said with satisfaction, “...now, there’s a reason his middle name is King. And, well… okay, so it’s two reasons. The first reason is that it’s his name, naturally, but there’s also another reason… the big reason, the important one. And it’s that he’s the King of Christmas. it’s just that simple…” 

You found yourself giggling with affection as your boyfriend rambled on; it was one of the many little things about Josh that had made you fall in love with him. As he spoke, he stood from his crouching position to place the record on the turntable and lower the needle, and the cozy tones of Deck the Halls began to play in the living room— Josh’s handsome face illuminated only by the flickering light of the fireplace and the warm golden glow of the lights already set up on your Christmas tree. The light danced across his delicate features as he rose to walk towards you and the box of ornaments, and he offered another grin, asking, “Shall we get this decorating soiree started?”

You laughed again, unable to deny the way his turn of phrase and distinct mannerisms made you feel with your heart fluttering so distinctly in your chest. When at last he reached you and began rummaging through the box of ornaments, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. When he finally looked up to meet your gaze with a knowing half-smile, you tenderly leaned in to kiss him gently once more, before pulling back and replying, “Okay, now we shall,” which elicited a laugh from the man in front of you, his warm brown eyes sparkling in the low light as he replied, “A very important final step before we get started… my darlin’ is so thorough.” You giggled breathlessly at the affectionate nickname, taking his hand inside the box of ornaments and giving it a squeeze. 

Together, you began picking out ornaments and hanging them on the tree, from sparkling white crystal snowflakes and pinecones, to small figurines of ice skaters and Santa Claus, to childhood photos of the two of you in tiny silver frames— Josh insisted that those should be hung up beside each other, saying definitively, “I’ll need you to keep me company up there!” 

Between his jokes and your responses, Nat King Cole’s voice served as a backdrop, his gentle crooning making the room feel cozy and festive beyond belief. The reflection of the Christmas lights were twinkling in Josh’s eyes as he stole glances at you while you both hung ornaments on the tree at once, his hand coming to wrap around your waist for a stolen moment as he headed back towards the box to grab his next ornament of choice. Your heart stuttered deep within your chest, beginning to pick up its pace at Josh’s loving looks and touches.

It was when Josh’s favorite Christmas carol began, however, that he really began to focus his attention on you. The familiar swell of strings marked the beginning of Nat King Cole’s rendition of The Christmas Song, and as Josh crossed back towards you to hang a silver bell on the tree, he caught your eye with a smile, before beginning to sing along with the record. “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…” You felt heat immediately beginning to rise in your cheeks as a look of joy appeared on your face. Nothing made you melt more than Josh’s voice. “Jack Frost nipping at your nose…” He gave you an affectionate smile while singing the lyrics, reaching out to tap the end of your nose with his fingertip at the end of the line, which made you giggle wildly. You reached up to grab his hand and pull it to your lips, pressing little kisses to his knuckles as he continued singing along. You were mesmerized, unable to tear your gaze away from him even if you wanted to. Everything about Josh was enough to light up a room, but whenever he decided on performing for you, even in the comfort of your own home— it was still always utterly captivating. He was breathtakingly talented, and unfathomably beautiful.

Gently, tenderly, Josh’s hand fell to your waist while he continued the song, the words flowing as smoothly and sweetly as honey. “Everybody knows… a turkey and some mistletoe… help to make the season bright…” He was beginning to sway you along to the music, and you were letting him— lost entirely in his voice, his loving touch, his gaze, in this moment that was beginning to feel dizzying in its domesticity. By the time the song reached its instrumental interlude, the two of you were slow dancing in the living room— your head coming to rest on Josh’s shoulder, face buried in his neck as he held you close, sweeping you around the room in slow circles to the piano instrumental. He was so warm, and you could feel the soft rise and fall of his breaths through the cozy knit fabric of his sweater. When you finally lifted your head to meet his eyes for the final chorus, the love you were feeling for him was almost overwhelming.

“And so, I’m offering this simple phrase… for kids from one to ninety-two…” Josh paused in his serenade for a moment to bring his free hand to cup your face, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he smiled at you with undeniable affection. “And though it’s been said, many times, many ways… Merry Christmas… to you…”

You knew you were looking at him like he had hung the moon in the sky for you… but, frankly, with the adoration in his eyes, it almost seemed like he’d truly have been willing to try. As the song reached its conclusion, you leaned in without even needing to think, capturing his lips so lovingly and passionately that Josh let out a soft sigh against your lips, struck by surprise and delight. You found yourself lost in him, lost in your feelings, as you melted entirely in his arms, his hand still cupping your cheek and jaw with unmistakable tenderness. By the time you two finally allowed your lips to separate, the next song had already been playing for what had surely been over a minute. After a breathless moment of collecting yourself that must’ve taken a few seconds, you managed to let your eyes flutter open, only to see Josh opening his eyes at nearly the exact same time— the sight making you giggle, your heart skipping a beat within your chest.

“Your voice is unbelievable,” you murmured, reaching your own hand over to cup his cheek in return, which prompted him to lean into your touch so effortlessly and subconsciously. Instantly, even in the low light, you could tell the compliment was making him blush, with his cheeks and the tip of his nose flushing a rosy red under your touch as he averted his gaze shyly, letting out a bashful, “Oh, god… Thank you… I think you’re unbelievable.” A smile crossed your face as he paused for a moment, blinking at you as if in thought before continuing, looking at you so lovingly, “I’m so happy we get to make Christmas memories in a place all our own this year, angel… you’re home to me, lover. You make it feel like Christmas.”

Truly, you couldn’t have said it better yourself. 

The moment was breathtaking. Josh’s words, his eyes, the glow of the Christmas tree and the crackling of the fire… everything was so perfect. Your smile, at this point, was entirely out of your control— you wouldn’t have been able to stop even if you had wanted to try. Words failed you for a moment as emotions swirled like snowflakes within you. “Oh, Josh… I love you so much.”

He was grinning at you, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. When he spoke again, you could hear the affection in his voice. “I love you so much, darlin’. I’d lasso the moon for you.”

His reference to It’s A Wonderful Life made your smile widen even further—- something you had previously doubted was even possible. Your head was spinning a little from his romantic words, and when you finally managed to speak again between shy giggles, you teased, “You’re too smooth for your own good… but it is a wonderful life, Josh, because I’ve got you.”

Josh laughed a little, breathlessly, the rosiness of his cheeks still so endearing. You couldn’t resist any longer, closing the distance between the two of you and kissing him, so deeply and passionately that he almost faltered on his feet for a moment, his grip tightening on you to steady himself— and perhaps from a desire to be even closer to you.

When you finally pulled back, the Nat King Cole record still softly playing and your tree sparkling behind you, the two of you once again took a moment before opening your eyes. You found yourself lost in Josh’s warm embrace, the scent of him, the feeling of his heartbeat against yours. You were all his, and he was all yours. And this was only the beginning.

The words left your lips in a whisper, affectionate and gentle. “Merry Christmas, Josh.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Merry Christmas, angel.”

//

A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, everyone! If you enjoyed this, you can find my masterlist here and be added to my taglist here.

TAGLIST: @sinsofstardust @jakesguitarsolo @losfacedevil @sparrowofthedawnsworld @gold-mines-melting @texas-bbq-pringles @mountain-in-springtime @alwaysonthemend @tripthelightfatality @tommie-gvf @second-suns @runwayblues @shutupdevvie @godly-sinsx @sacredjake @ignite-my-fire @kiska-enthusiast @songbirds-sweet @rhythm-of-space @hsfallingsky @the-starcatcher @kenobicoffee @earthlysorrows @zm-gvf

[newloverofbeauty]

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.   

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

[not-orphaned-account]

Miles To Go Before I Sleep fun fact:

The title is based on the poem Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost that I think is my favourite poem ever. It goes as follows:

Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

It's so lovely, and the last line being repeated hits so hard with me. While the poem itself is quite melancholic in its message, I think it still reflects the more hopeful vibe of the fic.

[drarryspecificrecsdaily]

2023.12.15

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. Levels of Violence (I Wouldn't Expect) by @dobbyrockssocks [T, 1k]

►[...] “Is it really so bad to know you’re with the person meant for you?”

2. The Lost Boy by @youhavemyswordandmybow [M, 17k]

►Draco read the article and let out a heavy sigh. He watched the three second reel of Potter walking through the mob of people, looking like a homeless wizard, with not a trace of emotion on his face. [...] Draco frowned. What was the matter with him? If you could rely on anyone to get his wand in a knot and embarrass himself in public, it was Potter. Right, enough was enough. This was humiliating. As Potter's former nemesis he could not let this stand.

3. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Noir by @rainstormradish [M, 3k]

►Harry overreacts to an unexpected Christmas gift.

4. Returning by @hsvh-hp [T, 4k]

►As soon as Harry and Draco woke up that morning, they knew the time had come to go.

---

Fest/Exchange

★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost

The Baby is Yours by Anonymous [E, 2k]

Of easy wind and downy flake by Anonymous [E, 14k]

Roots and All by Anonymous [T, 10k]

You're My Present This Year by Anonymous [T, 1k]

.

5. Swinging into Love by Anonymous [T, 6k]

►All he has is Work and Teddy. Trying to find something for himself, a way to relax, Harry stumbles into someone he never expected to see again. ★ H/D Erised 2023 | @hd-erised

6. Welcome to the Future by Anonymous [G, 10k]

►Returning to Hogwarts, Harry isn’t surprised to find out that his roommate is Malfoy. Getting to know one another makes being back at Hogwarts bearable. Staying at school over Christmas brings surprises that neither imagined. ★ H/D Erised 2023 | @hd-erised

[simply-ivanka]

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

(Art: Riders in the Snow in the Haagse Bos by Anton Mauve)

[hdowlpost]

OWL GIFTS for @itsphantasmagoria

Drarry In Love Summary: Mini pops of Draco and Harry and letters Art Medium: Craft made from wood letters and a scrabble letter holder, as well as two mini pop vinyls Rating: General Contains: Mini pops of Draco and Harry and letters Notes: I really hope you like your gift!

Roots and All Summary: Harry Potter would have never thought that, one day, his days would be spent studying wandlore, practising his carving and maybe, if he felt adventurous, foraging for mushrooms. But that's exactly what he needs - or is it? - A drarry countryside mystery Word Count: 10,203 words Rating: Teen Contains: countryside adventure, EWE, mystery, Unspeakable!Draco, Wandmaker!Harry, sentient trees Notes: Dear Phantasma! I hope you enjoy this little casefic, which includes a lot of tree folklore, a smidge of protective Draco and a great floofy dog. I have a postcard of your art framed over my desk, so you have certifiably had an impact on me this year - I hope with this story I can give back a little! You are a gift to this fandom, and I'm wishing you all the best for the next year, and lovely holidays.

Of easy wind and downy flake Summary: It's snowing in July, and it's Malfoy's fault. OR, the one where the house wants the boys to kiss. Word Count: 14.1k Rating: Explicit Contains: Getting Together, Forced Proximity, There Was Only One Bed, Cottagecore Notes: Phantasmagoria, your art brings me so much joy. I was so honored to be assigned a gift for you. I hope it brings you some joy in return!

[chobani-flip]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged for tidbit tuesday by @tiltingheartand and @actuallyitsellie so I'm taking the tags as carrying over to wednesday and will be taking no objections to my impeccable logic here's three snippets for three prompt fics I'm writing for @wakeupnew @bucktheally and @apartmentsmoke (they can have fun guessing what is for whom😁)

#1

In the aftermath, they’re sitting - a little stiffly - on Tommy’s couch, taking turns sipping from six different cups (sipping in Buck’s case, anyway; he’s doing his best to avoid describing the unholy noises Tommy’s making in order to "aerate his palate") as Tommy determines if any of the coffee samplers Buck brought are worthy of being dialed in on his espresso machine. All the while, Buck’s trying not to stew in the delayed embarrassment at his own knee-jerk overreaction and hypocrisy. He’s famously tried to walk off much worse injuries in the past, and after the lightning strike, he’s extremely familiar with how it feels to want to be left in peace and quiet for a while.

#2

He raises his head and opens his mouth the smallest amount to inform Tommy of his plans, but gives up half-way through when he feels his lips come into contact with tantalizing warm skin and downy hair. It’s only been a couple of months but already his body has adopted new unconscious rituals, automated motions; like grabbing the largest plate out of the cupboard for Tommy when they have croissants for breakfast because he likes to unravel them in a spiral and fling flakes all over the kitchen island, or like now when his lips make contact with Tommy’s skin, and the new directive his body obeys without thinking is to kiss, caress, taste…

#3

Evan Buckley arrived in his life on the wings of a Category 5 hurricane. Everything else follows from that. 

At least that’s how Tommy rationalizes the frankly insane decisions he’s found himself making in Evan’s presence and under the influence of his gorgeous blue eyes and smart smiling mouth. 

After the shitstorm that was the end of his last long relationship, Tommy was careful with his heart in a way that he never felt the need to be in any other aspect of his life. And yet with Evan, he found himself agreeing to meet his family after a single failed date, and asking the 90 engine driver to drop him off at the hospital to try to make it, and deciding to risk exploding his kitchen by experimenting with new recipes because Evan was coming over for dinner, and last time Tommy was over at Eddie’s, Chris mentioned how much Evan liked caramel sauce and then showed him a TikTok where a credible abuela insisted you can make the perfect dulce de leche every time out of condensed milk if you boil it in an unopened can.

all of these may be subject to change but MIGHT be ready before the episode tomorrow? anyone else who feels like it, consider yourself tagged, tag me and show me your fic snippets *grabby hands*

[dabiconcordia]

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.   His house is in the village though;   He will not see me stopping here   To watch his woods fill up with snow.  

My little horse must think it queer  To stop without a farmhouse near   Between the woods and frozen lake   The darkest evening of the year.  

He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake.  The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.  

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   But I have promises to keep,   And miles to go before I sleep,   And miles to go before I sleep. By Robert Frost

[a-j-s-the-only]

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer. To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep. Of the easy wind and downy flake.

These woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

-Robert Frost