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Parker's Secret Santa Gifts🎄for @alkivm
ONE NORMAL NIGHT
In the heart of winter and in the dead of night, you and Wednesday share the woods.
fandom: Wednesday (2022) pairing: Wedesnday Addams × Fem!Vampire!Reader a/n: this is my 1st × reader ever so i'm feeling very insecure about it.. however, i wanted to do something up your alley, Alk. i also wanted to write from Wednesday because i knew writing something of Sam would be too predictable of me haha. anyways, i hope you enjoy!!
You slid into the partially dark dorm room that held your girlfriend’s strong scent. For someone as dark and mysterious as Wednesday, you never expected her to have a smell that was actually calming. However, this made it easier for you to find her. Being a vampire allowed you the same nose the werewolves had. Maybe even better, in your opinion…
Speaking of werewolves, Enid’s side of the room was the dark side, for once. She must’ve been out with her girl pack. This led you to immediately find Wednesday seated at her desk with a lit lamp as the clicking of the typewriter keys echoed off the walls. Her writing time, you presumed with a small smirk and shake of your head. It was part of her nightly routine.
But you were looking for a night where they could just be with each other. It had snowed all day, but with the dark that you both adored, came clear skies and moonlight that made the snow sparkle. Wednesday, of course, didn’t care for sparkly things, but you hadn’t seen anything more vintage in decades. And you wanted to share that with her.
You wanted one normal night.
She never stopped typing, her black eyes undivided, but there was something about the way her shoulders braced that told you that she knew you were there. So, you approached her, but before you could speak, she did.
“What is it, Y/N?” she asked flatly. “You know this is my—”
“Yes, yes, I know. This is your writing time,” you cut her off as you stopped behind her chair and leaned against it. “I was thinking… maybe we could take a walk through the woods? We’ve been shut indoors all day because of the snowfall, and the moon is rather beautiful tonight.” You heard her give a short huff, which encouraged you to follow up with, “Almost as beautiful as you…”
Wednesday scoffed as she felt you lean down and kiss her cheek. You had just been outside, on your way over, so your lips were cold against her warm skin. It made her pull away slightly, “Oh, please, your pick-up lines are aging on me.” But even she had her own jokes to turn around on you, and she glanced up to tease, “Almost as much as you.”
To be fair, you did not see that coming as you looked away in mock offense. “You've been waiting to spring that one on me, haven’t you?”
She shrugged and went back to her writing, “Not really. You just fell into the trap.”
“Sly psychic,” you rolled your eyes.
“Dumb vampire.”
God, the way she just threw back words in any situation that made her charisma grow had your vampire instincts tingling. It made you frisky and longing for a hunt. However, if Wednesday followed your lead, you could take the thirst just to have one night with her. “Please?” you hated to beg, yet here you were doing it for her. “Can’t you spare one day of cutting your writing time short?”
Your borderline-desperate tone made her give a small smirk, and that gave you a little bit of hope. You had other plans for that night anyway, so you would make sure she’d show her side of the duality you had gotten the pleasure to know.
“Let me finish this paragraph,” she eventually gave in.
You let her do so without trouble, pacing around the room like a caged tiger while you waited. And then she stood up from her chair and turned around to catch you looking at her.
“You’ve got the patience of a saint.” The sarcasm was thick in her flat tone.
You just shrugged and nodded to the tunic-length jacket that was lying on her bed, “That should be warm enough for you.”
The raven gave you an uncertain look as she went to retrieve it and slip it on. “Sometimes, I think you forget that I’m not a vampire,” she commented, clearly not convinced one jacket would keep her warm in the snowy wilderness.
“Never,” you assured her. When she turned around and approached you with her dark eyes trying to figure out the million thoughts behind your glowing ones, you gave her a wink. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll keep you warm.”
She didn’t look convinced. “I’m thrilled.” Then again, she never did.
You never took that personally from her. After all, she was the one to insinuate a relationship that was more than friends. She had even stolen the first kiss between you two. As uninterested as she tried to seem, you knew she was curious about what you had in mind. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have followed you out.
The bitter cold of the winter night suited you just fine as you stepped out of the heated indoors and shook your head out to relish the chilly freedom. You sighed in delight, before looking over your shoulder to see Wednesday pacing up next to you.
She blinked unsteadily, the breeze stinging her eyes and cheeks as her bangs were swept aside. She crossed her arms and hugged them against her chest. “It had to be tonight?”
You rolled your eyes, “Oh, come on, Wednesday, it’s not that bad!” You gave her a playful nudge. “You just need to get that warm blood pumping,” you then teased, your breed leaving you immune to the freeze.
She just growled in annoyance, which made you decide to take the first step—well, more like the second step now… “So, try and keep up,” you told her, then raced away into the woods.
It must have caught her off-guard, because she immediately followed hot in pursuit. “Y/N!” It was like she hadn’t even thought about the fact that she was rushing into a game of Tag, like it was a mindless effort that sent her after you.
Her calls made you run faster, weaving through the trees like a trained dog in agility, and you let out a triumphant howl that sent the crows scattering into the night sky. In return, you actually got a few calls back from the werewolves scouting the forest as well. “Hey, Wednesday!” you hollered over your shoulder, “you think one of those is your roommate?!”
You could hear your girlfriend’s panting grow louder as she flanked you a few yards back. “No!” she answered, “Enid wouldn’t be caught dead in this kind of cold!”
“But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?!” Being an Addams gave you so much freedom to joke about death, considering you were already dead inside. It was meant to be.
“Not tonight, Y/N!”
You just laughed and raced on, filing deeper and farther into the world of forestry that almost shielded the moonlight. The wind seemed to be going 100 miles per hour against your skin, making a million scents bathe your tongue every time you breathed in.
And then the scent of fur and fresh-kill caught your senses. You were gaining too close to the werewolves, so you figured this was a good place to stop.
Wednesday, on the other hand, didn’t have as keen a sense of smell, which kept her racing on. She couldn’t see you anymore, but she had done that dance before. The amount of times she’d run through this very forest was unimaginable, especially with a destination known or unknown in mind. She wasn’t afraid of running through the dark; however, the crisp cold air was taking a toll on her lungs. She called out for you, slowing down to catch her breath. “Y/N?!”
Compared to the way she’d sounded a few minutes ago, back at the dorm, she wasn’t so uptight about everything. And that was where you wanted her.
The raven slowed all the way, when she didn’t receive a response from you. She glanced around as she trotted forward. “Y/N?” Her panting was silenced among the breeze and so was your movement in the low branch of the nearest tree.
When she passed it, you grabbed her arm and pulled it towards the trunk. She yelped and spun around, yanking her arm away to look up and meet your golden eyes. “Sorry,” you giggled, releasing her to comb your wind-tossed hair back with one hand.
Her voice went back to its natural, monotoned-self. “Why are you in a tree?”
“We’re too close to the werewolves,” you nearly whispered the explanation. Then, you held your hand out to her. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”
The gold shimmer in your eyes struck the lightest reflection in hers as she took it and let you pull half of her weight up onto the same branch.
You knew she wasn’t the most comfortable person with heights without being guarded by some sort of railing, so you made sure she was steady before you continued to lead the way up. Being a vampire, your agility and strength were reliable. You could weave quicker through the limbs. And once you reached almost ¾-ths of the way up, you crouched to check on your girlfriend.
Despite her size and normal human strength, she actually kept up well, only being a few branches below. However, being the lady vampire you were, you had lived for a few centuries. So, chivalry was definitely not dead in your era, just evolved out of the strictly-male ideals. “Wednesday!” She paused her climbing to glance up at you, which made you hold your hand out to her again. “I got you.” The cold must have been biting at her because she grabbed your hand with no hesitation, and you lifted her up, wrapping one arm around her waist to safely bring her to your level.
She wouldn’t admit it, but the raven was relieved that you had the decency to allow her to be closest to the tree trunk. She glanced down, almost nervously, but left it undetectable as she asked, “Is there any reason why you insist on being so high up?”
“No one can see us from up here.”
She shifted skeptically.
“I thought you liked being uncomfortable,” you smirked. You caught the way she curved her fingers into the bark, threatening to clutch it if the branch that held them teased a crack or two.
Wednesday gave a slightly flustered sigh. “The last time I was in a tree, things didn’t go so well.” When she looked your way again, the moon light dappling through the trees made her eyes show a shade of brown that wasn’t common in her natural aesthetic.
It took some of the frost away from the cold that you didn’t realize you could feel until that deep gaze met yours. Her frame looked even smaller as she backed up to secure herself against the trunk, which you knew she did to brace herself in case anything happened. You softened your voice as you moved closer to her. “I won’t let you fall,” the words came so naturally, it was almost considered pure.
She blinked at you. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Y/N…”
You stopped a short distance from her, close enough to see what she hoped you wouldn’t: her desire for comfort. You slid one hand around her waist and the other over her cheek to block the winter breeze. “Here’s my promise,” you whispered, then pulled her into a gentle kiss.
To your surprise, she fell into it instantly, almost as if she was thinking of the same thing. She must have felt secure in your arms, for she then put her arms around your torso. And through the kiss, you smiled.
She pulled away. “Is that all you got?” she tested you, looking away and over your shoulder to bait you into moving elsewhere than her lips.
You took in a deep breath, and her scent was so strong that you could almost taste her… You felt your golden gaze start to burn and your mouth start to salivate. There was a surge of power that entwined your bloodstream, and the thrill to drink made you stare at her open neck. Well… almost open. “Are you teasing me, Ms. Addams?” you asked her as you dipped your head towards the crook of her neck and nosed her braid over her shoulder, fully exposing her warm skin.
“Bite me, Y/LN,” she almost purred into your ear. It was supposed to be a tease, but it came out more as a command.
But it was your pleasure, regardless. “Not until we’re in bed, my cold-hearted darling,” you replied, then pressed your lips to her neck. It was hard not to bite her right now. Just a little taste of that sweet drink that came out of the most savage student in Nevermore Academy would have sufficed. But you wouldn’t. Not now. For now, you forced yourself to only kiss and suckle her skin in a slow trail down her neck, but you did manage to let your fangs nip her every now and then.
All the while, Wednesday laid her head on your shoulder, sighing through the treatment with small moans, while her black nails curled into your spine when your fangs would catch her soft skin.
It was the perfect mix of Heaven and Hell.
It was angelic and demonic.
It was sweet and stubborn.
It was you and Wednesday…
On this one normal night.
merry christmas/happy holidays alk! i hope this made you smile and i'm wishing you a very pleasureable rest of the season. thank you for being such a supportive friend 🎄✨🎁
- parker (BWS)
#parkers secret santa gifts 2023#parkerwrites#wednesday#wednesday netflix#wednesday addams#wednesday addams x female reader#wednesday x reader#jenna ortega#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega x fem!reader#vampire#vampire reader#merry christmas#happy holidays#ao3#ao3 writer#ao3 author#ao3 fanfic#wednesday fanfic#alkivm#blackwolfstabs
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Unwrapped
A secret Santa gift for @glitchquake ❤️❤️
Summary: An Avenger/Time Lord!Loki x fem!reader, friends-to-lovers, fluffy/smutty one-shot.
My masterlist
Words: 2.9k
Warnings: 18+; minors DNI! Explicit smut, PIV, oral sex (f receiving). A smidgen of angst.
Author's Note: Darling @glitchquake, merry Christmas!! 🎄🎄🎁🎁I had so much fun with this prompt and with weaving in some little Easter eggs (or should they be candy canes!?!!) just for you. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it.
And another thank you to the wonderful @fictive-sl0th for arranging this terrific Secret Santa. I was so glad to be a part of it!! (Readers, you can find the Secret Santa 2023 Master List here).
Prompt: Walking in and seeing Loki wrapped in nothing but red ribbon under the Christmas tree and then you two do the do.
It had turned into a perfect Christmas decorating party. The smell of baking gingerbread filled the Tower common room, Mariah Carey was belting out the chorus to All I want for Christmas, and Nat was at this very moment balanced precariously on the top of a high-backed chair to add a glittery star to the apex of Stark's 12-foot Christmas tree. The rest of you had been happily adorning the tree - and the common room - for several hours, with all manner of baubles, candy canes, lights, and tinsel. Someone had made an early batch of eggnog, and a holiday buzz hung excitedly in the room.
You were humming along to Wham’s Last Christmas, when you caught Loki’s figure entering the room. He looked as disdainful as ever, although on this occasion, an air of skepticism coloured his general standoffishness.
“What,” he asked, distastefully running his fingers over the pink and green lights, “is this about?”
“It’s December 1st, Loki!” you beamed at him, ignoring his curmudgeonly attitude and generously wrapping a spare length of sparkly tinsel around his shoulders. “It’s a Christmas decorating party!”
Loki frowned, but a smirk lingered at the edges of his mouth; your enthusiasm was difficult to curb at the worst of times, and often proved infectious. He began to say something – probably characteristically barbed – before he spotted the small pile of gifts under the tree. “And tell me, darling - what are those?”
“Christmas gifts from Little Miss Festive over here,” Tony cut in, gesturing towards you with the glass of eggnog in his hand before thrusting it upon Loki. “There’s even one for you, Horns.”
Loki narrowed his eyes and turned to you, looking mildly suspicious. “What is it?”
“I’m not telling you, Loki!” You purse your lips in mock admonishment. “You can wait until Christmas eve like everyone else!”
“Why?” Loki asked.
“Tradition,” you said, with an air of finality that put an end to any further argument.
The tower’s Christmas eve party was in full swing. Tony’s fancy stakeholder party, full of elegant hors d’oeuvres and flowing champagne, had happened a few days earlier; to your relief, tonight’s event included only the live-in members of the Tower, with a few bonus loved ones here and there. It was delightfully warm and friendly. Thor was beaming widely at everyone around him, and he had not taken off the chunky red pompom beanie you had made him since he’d unwrapped it several hours earlier. Even Loki seemed to be enjoying himself.
“Congratulations on acing your finals, darling,” he had murmured to you when he first arrived. You’d looked at him in confusion; you’d finished your end-of-term exams only a few days ago, and you didn’t expect to know the results for several weeks.
“How do you- Loki, I haven’t even heard-“
“Oh, just something I picked up around the Timelines,” he added with a wink, as understanding finally dawned on you. If only my future-self had also been brave enough to tell him I’m madly in love with h-
But you wouldn’t think about that tonight. You’d been having such a wonderful time; for your first Christmas with the Avengers, you couldn’t have felt more at home. Yes, you were a little blue about your unrequited-love situation, but you were determined to focus on how lucky you were to be here. What wonderful friendships you had built this year! How magical it felt to be included, to belong! No, it wouldn’t do to dwell on the one thing, that one little thing…
Making gifts for your new chosen family had been so much fun. In addition to Thor’s beanie (which was now looking somewhat askew on his blonde head), you’d made long, checkered scarfs for Steve and Tony, a pretty maroon shawl for Wanda, and a pair of cute boot-cuffs for Nat. They’d all made very kind ooh-ing noises as they’d each unwrapped their little hand-made gifts from under the tree.
But the project that you were the most proud of was the gift you’d made for Loki: a pair of unbelievably soft, dark-green, fingerless gloves. You had worked incredibly hard on them. It had been slow and painstaking; the soft merino wool was so fine, and the needles so small, they made your hands cramp. The intricate cable-knit pattern you had learned specifically for this project was complicated, and you had pulled out your stitches on multiple occasions in the name of perfection. You only hoped that he would enjoy them. Speaking of which…
“Loki!” Thor boomed suddenly, grabbing the attention of most of the room. “Brother, there is a still a gift under the tree for you!”
Loki’s eyes darted to you, and he gave you a charming smile as he knelt down to pick up the small package. He unwrapped it gently, tentatively peeling back the brightly patterned paper until he held the gloves in his hands. You realized you were holding your breath as you waited for his response.
Loki didn’t look up; he traced the detailed curves of cable knit with one finger. “How – you made these? They’re… How are they so soft?”
You felt your face warming. “Made with love!” you joked, loosely patting his shoulder and laughing. But your laugh was cut short as you saw a look pass over Loki’s face. Oh no.
“Oh, haha – I don’t mean Love love,” you continued quickly. “You know, you’re my friend – friends. All of you. And I- you know, I love you - all.” The end of your sentence was lost in Thor’s smothering embrace, with generous hear-hears from the rest of the team as they chinked glasses and went back to their holiday chatter.
Loki had stood, but he continued to stare down at the open package in his hand. Did he not want them? What was wrong with them? Damn it, you cursed yourself, you should have just gotten him something simple! You didn’t mean the gloves to be any sort of grand gesture… You would never! Stupid. Why didn’t you just get him a cool iPhone case? Because he wouldn’t use it, you admitted to yourself, and anyway, what was wrong with giving your friends nice things and telling them that they were important to you? Nothing, you thought defiantly, and if Loki’s going to be all suspicious and grouchy about it then he can go –
But before you could open your mouth to give Loki the small lecture you were working up to, he had taken three long strides to the common room door and disappeared out into the hallway.
You were astonished. He just left?! Goddamn him and his shitty communication skills! If he’s that upset, he could at least talk to you about it. You talk to him about everything! Maybe that’s the problem, a cold voice muttered inside your head. You’d finally crossed over into “too much”. As usual.
No. No way. This wasn’t fair - he couldn’t just be mad at you and not even give you the chance to explain. Fuck it, you were going to fix this.
You followed Loki into the hall, but by the time you got through the crowded common room, he was well and truly in the lift. You furiously pressed the call button, repeatedly, even though you knew it wouldn’t make a difference to the speed of the damn thing. You watched the digital numbers slowly tick up to the 26th floor.
Finally, after an achingly slow ascent, you made it to Loki’s rooms and banged hard on his door.
“Loki!” you shouted through it. “Open up! You have to talk to me! You have to –"
The door was apparently unlocked; it swung open at your aggressive knocking, and you tentatively stepped into the darkened apartment.
“Loki?” you called, as you walked through the quiet rooms. You were sure he was here – you’d seen the elevator stop on this floor. And besides, where else would he go? “Loki! Loki, please, you have to talk to me. Please don’t be mad. You don’t have to wear them. You don’t even have to keep them. Goddammit Loki, where are you?” you almost shouted the last, as you pushed open his bedroom door.
You were immediately silenced by the sight in front of you.
Loki’s enormous, indulgent bed was decorated extravagantly in Christmas décor. Fairy lights tangled with fresh boughs of fir tree were entwined through the posts, dotted here and there with tiny silver baubles and bright red holly berries. Like a Christmas tree, you thought, mesmerized.
Loki sat underneath the elegantly twisted branches, leaning back against the ornate headboard, his head resting cheekily on one fist as he waited casually for you to spot him. One of his eternally long legs was crossed over the other at the knee.
He was wearing nothing but his trademark smirk and a modestly positioned bright red bow.
“Hello, darling,” he said softly. “Merry Christmas. I hope you like the gift I got you?”
“Loki, I- what? What is going on? How did you – you were barely minutes in front of me! How did you get into this getup so fast?”
Loki’s fingertips gave a little green crackle. Oh. Of course.
“Aren’t you going to unwrap it?” he asked darkly, his cocky smirk even wider.
“I…” Don’t analyse this too much, you told yourself, as you woodenly moved towards him. You reached out an arm to try to pull at the bow, but of course, with him perched in the centre of his enormous bed, you couldn’t quite reach; you lifted one knee onto the mattress, arm still outstretched for the bow… then the other…
Before you realized what was happening, Loki had taken your hands in his and pulled you towards him. He was sitting upright, and he gazed intently into your face, his eyes darting between yours as he quietly murmured to you. “Is this alright?”
You nodded dumbly. Alright? It was everything you had ever wanted – Loki, naked and stretched out before you like a banquet, with a comically large red bow hiding his –
Your eyes widened as you abruptly spotted exactly what the ribbon had been concealing; beneath it, Loki was rock hard. You caught yourself involuntarily wetting your lips with your tongue.
The low, flickering glimmer cast by the Christmas lights was beautifully romantic, and you felt yourself melt into him as he gently pushed your hair behind your ear, cradling your head in his large hands and firmly pulling your face towards him. His mouth found yours, and your heart beat madly in your chest as he kissed you for the first time.
In all your wildest imaginings, it could never have been like this. His kiss was firm, but his lips were as soft as dew; the tongue gently exploring your mouth was skilled, but tender. Your hands reached for his hips, at last meeting the loose end of the red ribbon and pulling the bow free. Without breaking his kiss, he carefully laid you back on his bed.
Loki’s long, muscled body was now kneeling before you, his lean, strong thighs holding him steady above you as he used his hands to caress your body. It was more sensual that you had even been touched… had ever even dreamt of being touched. As rushes of hot, vivid lust reached every part of your skin, every drop of your blood, you realized you had also never felt so… so safe.
Loki pulled away from you, his perfect torso towering above you as he knelt between your legs. He gazed at you longingly as he slid a hand under each of your thighs. “May I?” he asked throatily.
“Yes,” you murmured, your voice a bare whisper.
Loki didn’t hesitate, almost falling into you as he dipped his head to place his strong, clever tongue upon you. The bliss was immediate and exquisite. You felt yourself writhe under him, heard yourself whimper and moan as he deftly played his fingers over you, in you; every place he found to touch or kiss you came as the perfect note in the perfect order. In the few moments you allowed yourself to open your eyes, you were met with the beautiful scene of Christmas romance he had created above you… Created for you…
His fingers curled gently, knowing the speed and rhythm you needed, and you let him lead you on towards the sweet release he promised you. Your fingers found his raven hair and twisted their way into it, not meaning to pull, but inevitably losing control as he pushed you closer. He moaned wantonly as you tugged.
That was all he needed to pull you over the edge into orgasmic oblivion. You came hard, crying out, pulling his hair again in time with the unconscious pulsing of your pelvic floors. He didn’t stop, pulling you onwards, sucking and licking and pumping as your body continued to convulse, until you cried out again, pulling him away from you as the sensation became too much.
When you opened your eyes to see him above you, he was gazing at you hungrily.
“Loki…” you almost sobbed.
He brought his perfect, sculpted body close to yours; he expertly guided himself to you, the wetness generated by the magnificent orgasm he had given you allowing him to glide into you with ease, despite his generous girth. And when he was settled in you, fit so perfectly inside you, he finally gave in. With a deep growl, he began to move.
“Faster,” you moaned, begging him, needing him to give you more. The stretch you felt as your body accommodated him was magnificent.
His hands still roamed your body; his impressively sensitive touch finding pleasure in your pleasure. His beautiful dark curls hung sluttishly about his sharp face, loose and wild. With eyes closed, his thrusts messy, he chased release above you, until with a sharp groan, he came.
He took a few moments to compose himself, drawing in deep breaths, before opening his eyes to meet yours. In a single movement, he rolled to his side, slipping out of you and easily enfolding you in his long, strong arms, your back to his broad torso. Your chest began to rise and fall in time with his.
With a difficulty that was only partially due to the weight of his arm across you, you pulled yourself away from his chest and turned to face him.
“Loki - what happened? I followed you up here because I thought you were furious with me. Why did you leave in such a rush after you opened my gift? You didn’t like the gloves?”
“My darling,” Loki purred, pulling you tightly back into him. “I adore them. They are utterly perfect.” He gave a dramatic little sigh, and his fingertips traced invisible patterns on your back. “When I opened them, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and wonder. That you would give me something so beautiful… So me… The hours you must have spent meticulously crafting them. And then, that you did it for love…”
“Actually, I said with love,” you laughed.
His fingertips froze their pretty movements on your skin, and you looked up to see his face ashen. “Oh no! No, Loki, don’t be sad. I did… I mean, I do…”
You took a deep breath, and decided, finally, that honesty was the best policy.
“Loki, I do love you. I cherish you. I want to gift you a pair of green knit mittens every Christmas for as long as you’ll accept them.” You paused nervously. “But if you don’t- I mean, if you want to stay friends, I’ll… I’ll be OK… with that-“
“Dear heart,” he murmured into your hair, idly picking at the shreds of red ribbon strewn about you both. “I think we are a bit beyond that. Don’t you?”
“Well…” You chuckled again. “I guess so, yeah.”
Loki gently tucked a finger under your chin, pulling your face towards him so that he could lightly kiss you mouth. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”
“Merry Christmas, Loki.”
Secret Santa taglist
@joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman
#loki fanfic#loki fic#Merry Christmas!#Secret Santa by Camille#secret santa 2023#camilles secret santa#secret santa writer event
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"at what cost?"
where...💭
shinichi is doing everything he can to return back to normal until he can't anymore... but a certain thief is there to help right when he gives up
— kaito kid | kuroba kaito / kudo shinichi | edogawa conan
21k words
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my work for this year's kaishin secret santa 2024 held by @dcmkkaishinevents
As my gift, I wrote this fic for @lynk-13 (it's not letting me tag :<)
I'm really proud of how this turned out so I really hope you like it!!
#ksss24#dcmk#kudo shinichi#kuroba kaito#shinichi kudo#kaishin#kaito kid#kaito kuroba#kaitou kid#快新#detective conan#meitantei conan#kaishin secret santa#kidcon#ao3 fanfic#fanfic#ao3 writer#ree writes fics
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AO3 Wrapped 2024
I did this last year and thought it would be fun to do it again! This is all centered around the fics I wrote this year! (with maybe some overall data that I think is fun!)
Works This Year: 32
Word Count: 243,897
Hits: 32,749
Bookmarks: 603
Top 5 by Hits:
1. All's Well That Ends Well (To End Up With You)
2. Everywhere I Go (Leads Me to You)
3. Under My Skin
4. Under the Moon
5. Good Girl
Top 5 by Kudos:
Everywhere I Go (Leads Me to You)
2. All's Well That Ends Well (To End Up With You)
3. Under the Moon
4. Return the Favor
5. Simulation
Top 5 by Comments:
Everywhere I Go (Leads Me to You)
2. Love on the Ice
3. Return the Favor
4. Could Have, Should Have, Would Have
5. All's Well That Ends Well (To End Up With You)
Longest: Love on the Ice
Shortest: Tame Me Like A Doggy
Main character I wrote: Ian
Events:
Smoshblr Valentines Exchange
2. Smoshblr Big Bang 2024
3. Ianthony Week
4. Anthony's Day 2024
5. Kinktober 2024
6. Ian's Day 2024
7. Smoshblr Secret Santa 2024
This has been such a fun year of writing and I am really happy that a lot of my top fics for this year have been gifts or commissions. I'm also happy to have done a lot of challenges this year!
I look forward to what will come in 2025!
#ianthony#archive of our own#ao3 fanfic#ao3#ao3feed#ao3 writer#ao3 link#fanfic#fanfic writing#fanfiction#ao3 wrapped#kinktober#ian's day 2024#anthony's day 2024#smoshblr valentines exchange#smoshblr secret santa#smoshblr big bang challenge#kinktober 2024#spommy#damangela#spamanda#ao3 stats#queue and i
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🎄𝓐 𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮🎄
LaCroix doesn’t do holidays.
✨ Platonic ✨ Silly ✨ Featuring LaCroix, Mercurio, and (briefly) Chunk. No TW. ✨ This was created as a secret santa gift for the wonderful @crownedinmarigolds in the 2024 VtM Secret Santa event for writers!
“Come on, Mr. LaCroix! Even the bank has a tree in the lobby.” The tuft at the back of Chunk’s Santa hat (which he’d already started wearing three days ago) bounced this way and that as he shook his head in disapproval. “It doesn’t even have to be a Christmas tree. It could be like, one of those generic trees that’s just a tree. Non-demon-national – nonde – nondenominational, that’s what they call ‘em! Or – or even some garlands in the windows? A wreath? Please?”
Sebastian just shot him a withering glare and a retort as he headed for the elevators. “I don’t pay you to compare my décor to Wells Fargo.”
So, the security guard pulled out the big guns. “It’s a bad look, that’s all I’ll tell ya. Bad for the Venture brand.” Sebastian stopped short. Branding: the reason Venture Tower looked so imposing in the first place. It was a monument to the prince’s power, a visual reminder that he was both timelessly wise and a master of the present time. It was carefully designed to narrow at the top, making it look even taller than it really was. And it was intended to appear full of bustling activity befitting a human corporation, even though half the office space went unoccupied. Looks, in the Masquerade and in every political game, were everything.
“We look sinister, like some den of gothic monsters. And not cool monsters. Scrooges,” Chunk continued, crossing his arms. He could already tell he’d won.
“That’s quite enough.” Sebastian jabbed the “up” button on the elevator more aggressively than necessary. “I’ll…I’ll see that a tree is ordered. Now be seated. You would do well to notice that the surveillance screens are unattended.” He sighed as he stepped into the elevator. The season may be a hollow farce, but then, so was every marketing ploy. Best just to get it done.
Sebastian had loved Christmas once, as a young boy in Calais, singing carols with his family. But one horrible winter on the frontlines had killed his love for the season even before he was embraced. After decades and decades of Christmases on top of that, who could be excited for the holiday anymore? It came and went every year, just the same, in a cycle of days so short it was relevant only for mortals. And the boyish thrill in his chest, which rose up involuntarily at every first snowfall, absolutely needed to be silenced until it matched his silent heart. If he occasionally went for long midnight walks through the shopping district or even the residential zones in December, it was to survey the state of his territory and canvas with his people. Definitely not for any fondness over the splendid, neon profusions of LA Christmas lights.
Settling into his desk in the penthouse, Sebastian picked up the phone and dialed the one person he could always count on when seeking a last-minute delivery free from any fuss. He spoke without waiting for a hello. “Mercurio. I want the largest tree that will fit in the Venture Tower lobby. The largest, yes? And enough decorations to cultivate an atmosphere of…er…festivity, in the standard way. In the front lobby tomorrow, by 9 PM.” Click.
꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦
Chunk was relieved of his post early the next night. Sebastian informed him that the Tower would be closed for some renovations, but that he’d surely like the look of it when he returned. The last thing Sebastian needed was boundless holiday cheer while attending to the serious, professional work of setting up the displays.
…In a plush red and white sweater, obviously, because that was attire appropriate for the occasion. And one should always dress appropriately for the occasion.
By the time Sebastian came downstairs, humming to himself, he thoroughly expected to find a large tree and boxes of decorations at-the-ready in an otherwise empty lobby. No one would be the wiser about who hung them. He could sit by himself, playing old songs on the portable radio, and reminisce about the loss of his mortal life until he either felt better or was completely undone by loneliness.
Instead, Mercurio wobbled at the top of a ladder, stretching silver and gold tinsel in long swooshes across the top of the glass doors and onto the adjacent moldings to trim the entire room. The tree was already half decorated too. Sebastian’s displeasure was so great that he found himself snapping even before Mercurio had seen him.
“Why on Earth does this look so sloppy? It should be twisted together first, the silver around a core of gold. I’ve seen it done in the Macy’s display. Don’t tell me you intend to hang all of this tinsel so deplorably? Who ordered you to do this anyway? I certainly didn’t.”
The ghoul nearly toppled off the ladder in surprise. “Well goddammit Sebastian! It ain’t gonna hang itself, no matter how much you insult it.” He began pulling down what was already done, muttering something under his breath about holiday stress and about how, if Sebastian had wanted it some particular way, he should’ve just said so.
Sebastian chose to ignore him entirely for the time being. Taking up the loose ends, he began twisting them together with pointed (even spiteful, if that was possible) care. If I want something done well, I have to do it myself, as usual, he thought. But in reality, he soon found the pair of them working in highly efficient tandem – one twisting the tinsel together and the other hanging it. Despite his grumbling, Mercurio couldn’t seem to stop helping his regnant. And oddly, looking at the thoughtfully decorated tree in the center of room, towering over both of them, Sebastian couldn’t bring himself to order Mercurio away.
After a little while, Mercurio glanced down from the ladder. “Funny you know how Macy’s hangs their tinsel anyway.” The look Sebastian offered in answer dared him to laugh, but he just continued. “I know too, as a matter of fact. I always liked to go walking through the malls and down main street this time of year. Maybe you think a guy like me can’t have any fun, but, well…” he stretched up to his full height to secure the next swoosh of garland. “When my old man was alive, it was him and me who’d deck the house every year, getting up on ladders and all that. And we wanted to do a nice job for my mom. So we’d go walking through town, look for inspiration, talking about the year that went by...that was one of the only times he was around for me. I guess I still get nostalgic.”
“…It isn’t the worst idea, to honor the memory of such traditions.” He had the sudden impulse to tell Mercurio how he had always wanted to share “la bûche de Noël” with his family when he was still a mortal, believing he might one day marry and have children sitting on his knee in front of the fire. But the words were caught in LaCroix’s throat, leaving only a cold and awkward silence between them.
“I’m sorry, Prince LaCroix. I talk too much when you’re around, you know that. Damn vamp blood has that effect on me. Makes me want to be nice to you and shit.”
“No. No, it’s quite alright, Mercurio. It’s becoming, in a ghoul, to be…nice…to one’s regnant. In fact, here: I’ll tell you something in return.” Definitely not about the long-dead fancy of a loving family gathered around him at Christmas, but… “In the days of the revolution, when I was still a baby, Christmas celebrations were banned in France, due to anti-clerical sentiments from the new regime. But most people celebrated anyway. My family was one of them, or so I’m told. It was easier for us than most, since we were well-to-do. And I have some memory – I’m not sure if it’s real or not after so long but – I have some memory of dancing candlelight filling my home up to the ceiling. So many more candles than we’d normally have any need for…and everyone was singing…”
Mercurio cleared his throat. “Well, I didn’t get you candles, since that seemed like a bit of a vampire death trap. But hey, is that a radio? You want to put on some holiday tunes to decorate with? Not that pop garbage. The vintage stuff.”
Vintage. LaCroix wrinkled his nose at the descriptor, when it seemed to him like only yesterday. But he broke into a tentative smile nonetheless. “That’s not a half-bad idea.”
So it was that the Prince of Los Angeles found himself hanging ornaments and garlands and velvet bows all night long. His own vitae beat in the veins of the man next to him, but strangely, it was LaCroix who felt alive in his own motionless chest. For once, he hadn’t killed the childish joy that fluttered there.
Author’s Note: I got into learning a bit about the French history of Christmas, which is why there’s so much tradition in this. This is an article called Noël en France that helped me. Besides that, it was mostly Wikipedia.
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My gift secret santa for @oakbrush https://archiveofourown.org/works/61763230/chapters/157895245 here you go! enjoy it! I will bring more chapters soon
#lae'zel#shadowheart#shadowzel#bg3#lae'zel x shadowheart#bg3 fanfic#fic#secret santa#merry christmas#enjoy!#ao3#ao3 writer#ao3 link
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Doodles
Winter Masterlist - Loki Oneshot Masterlist - Main Masterlist
POV: Second
Ship: Loki x Reader
Type: Fluff, tiny bit of angst at the begining, bit of suggestive-ish content at the end
Info to know: This is a soulmate AU where anything your soulmate draws on their body shows up on you.
A/N: This my secret santa piece written for @catsladen!!! I hope you enjoy this piece, and happy holidays!!!
Loki had no idea how to tell you that he was your soulmate. It didn’t take long for him to figure it out once you showed up at the tower, but at first he just ignored it. He thought that soulmates were stupid, anyways, so he just didn’t say anything about it.
However, as he got to know you a bit better, he wasn’t as opposed to the idea of you being his soulmate. You were intelligent, beautiful, and best of all, not afraid of him. But while he was fine with it, he doubted that you would be. You might be friends with him, but surely you would be opposed to being more than that.
So he didn’t tell you. He wore long sleeves to cover up the little flowers, hearts, and spirals that you drew on yourself to conceal the fact he was your soulmate.
It was hard to conceal, especially on summer days, because you were always drawing on your arms. Ever the artist, which he admired about you. He could have used magic to conceal it, but to keep up a near-permanent spell altering his appearance would have been taxing. He still was not entirely sure how he normally appeared Asgardian instead of Jotun. Odin never told him. Plus, the little drawings made him happy.
While he didn’t acknowledge the fact you and him were soulmates, he still flirted with you. It was a harmless way to express affection in a way that might not tip you off. He was known to be flirtatious, so he could get things off his chest without you questioning it.
You would walk through the kitchen, in your workout clothes, sweaty from jogging or training. He would make a point to look you up and down, smirking. “You look delectable today, darling.”
He would send you a wink, and you would roll your eyes while you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and flipped him off on your way out.
Harmless fun was Loki’s outlet, but little did he know how it affected you. While you didn’t know that you and Loki were soulmates, you still harbored a massive crush on him. But his flirting came across as just playful banter between friends, which hurt you.
You were sure that if you mentioned your feelings to him, he would laugh at you. So, like him, you would lose yourself in flirtations.
Back and forth the two of you went, completely ignorant to the other’s pining. Innuendos, pranks, and flirtations built up tension so thick that you would need a star-forged sword to cut through it.
Everyone else in the tower noticed it, too. They just rolled their eyes and walked away when they walked in on you being lightly pinned to the fridge by Loki. The only people who didn’t notice the clear yearning were you and Loki.
The flirting was a regular routine. He would corner you against a wall, whispering something in your ear. You would act just a bit more sensually as you did workouts when he was around. He would flirt with other women to get you roused up. You would wear more revealing clothes to catch more attention from others, making him jealous.
Finally, one day, he got the courage to tell you about it. He set up a nice candlelight dinner and asked you to join him on the roof. When you did, you felt severely underdressed. You were in an everyday outfit, while Loki was wearing a suit.
Your face went a little red. “Oh, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to dress up.” You said, eyes trailing to the table beside him that was lit with candles.
Loki looked you up and down, getting nervous. “You weren’t.” He said, softly. “You look perfect as is.”
Something about his ‘flirting’ was clearly off today. It felt much more real to you, which put you on edge. Loki walked up to you, taking your hand, and seating you at the table. “So, uh, did you want to talk about something?” You asked, and he nodded.
“Yes, how about we eat first?” He gestured to the food laid out before you, lots of your favorites, and you agreed. It was paired with fine wine, which was greatly appreciated.
He had it all planned out. As usual, there were doodles on his arms, pictures that you had drawn on your own flesh. After you both finished eating, he took a deep breath, and took his suit coat off. Your eyes immediately recognized the drawings on his arms, and your breath hitched.
Was this some kind of cruel joke? You rolled up your sleeve, putting your arm up to his in comparison. Each doodle was there on his arm, exactly as you had drawn it on your’s.
“Loki, if this is some kind of joke…” You said, trying your best not to cry. Loki took your hand up in his, planting a gentle kiss.
His eyes poured into yours. “I assure you that it is not. I have known for a while, but I was scared of rejection, and didn’t know how to tell you. If you don’t wish to have me as your soulmate, though, I understand and I will-”
You laughed. The sound startled him, and he could see relief in your face. “If I don’t wish to have you? Loki, I’ve been in love with you for like ever! If anything, I was worried you wouldn’t like me.”
With this new information, Loki widened his eyes. Had he really been that blind? He brushed that away for now, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Darling, you are the most beautiful and exquisite creature to ever exist. No one could compare to your charm, and you have managed to help mend my broken heart.”
A single, happy, tear slipped down his cheek. “With you, I feel complete. I feel whole. I never believed in soulmates, but after meeting you, I do. I couldn’t imagine a life without you.”
You sat there for a moment, utterly stunned. When you collected your wits, you grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him in for a kiss. It was slow and sweet, but rapidly became more heated. You accidentally knocked your wine glass over, and it spilled all over you.
You broke away from the kiss, the cold wine dripping down your shirt and onto your chest. Loki smirked. “Well then, we should get back inside and get you changed. We wouldn’t want you to catch a cold now, would we?”
The both of you abandoned the table and took the elevator down to your room. During the short ride down, Loki couldn’t keep his hands off of you, trailing kisses down your neck. “Oh, darling, you have no idea how long I have fantasized about this for…”
You were sure he was leaving marks, but you couldn’t care less. As soon as the elevator opened, Loki picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him, letting him carry you to your room. Luckily, you made it there without interruption, and Loki stumbled into your room, setting you down on the bed.
He locked the door, facing you and your dripping-wet shirt. “Now, let’s get rid of that shirt, shall we?”
Secret Santa 2023 taglist: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman
My taglist: @iceeericeee
#loki#loki fanfic#fanfic#marvel#loki fluff#loki friggason#loki laufeyson#loki oneshot#loki x reader#camiles secret santa#secret santa 2023#writers event#loki writer event#loki/reader#loki/you#loki x you#loki x y/n#loki fanfiction
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Odysseus leave Ithaca that is just coming into the father he needs to be. Six hundred men leave their fathers behind.
Also known as: Ody trying to fill the Telemachus shaped void in his heart by parenting the crew.
#writers#fanfiction#fanfic#ao3#epic the musical secret santa#epic the musical#odysseus epic#epic elpenor#epic odysseus#epic musical#epic perimedes
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ONE WEEK left until the LotR SeSa posting deadline!
We hope the writing is going well. ❤️ We already have a few finished fic in the moderation queue, yay!
We still have a few prompters without claims, and as our goal is to make sure each prompter gets at least one fill, we're hoping you can help us out by signal boosting or having a look at the unclaimed prompts to see if one might tempt you. There are summaries of the prompts below as AO3 unfortunately doesn't allow for linking directly to individual prompts. You can find all the prompts HERE.
Gen prompts:
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power
Characters: Elanor "Nori" Brandyfoot, Poppy Proudfellow
Prompt: "simple, easy, fun for all. :D Just anything gen with both of them or one of them."
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Characters/pairing: Gimli/Legolas Greenleaf; Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli
Prompt: "Third wheel Aragorn to Gimli/Legolas. During the quest Aragorn observes the new and blooming love between his friends but as they travel as the Three Hunters he has no one to talk about it. So he writes in his journal or in unsend letter to Arwen or just thinks before sleep (or any other form the author might come up with) about everything he sees happening between Legolas and Gimli."
AU prompt:
Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Character: Fíli
Prompt: "An AU in which Fíli survives Azog and Bolg's Durin killing spree and becomes the next King Under The Mountain. I welcome whatever other character inclusions that your heart desires, though not in a way that makes them the focus over Fíli. I would especially love Dís as King Mother and Balin or Dwalin as Closest Living Relatives."
Kinky prompts:
Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Characters: Elrond Peredhel/Thranduil; Elrond Peredhel, Thranduil
Prompt: "Daddy/Doll - soft BDSM and Dollification. Elrond's got mad caregiving vibes, Thrandy in my canon is a hot mess constantly. Things don't work out for him because he doesn't have anyone to help him be soft again. Losing his wife turned him into a jerk. That protective steely exterior is pushing everyone away. Make Elrond tear it down! That man can make anyone sweet! Let's be real we all know Elrond is lonely too. He needs someone to love after losing so many people in his life, especially his wife."
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Characters: Gimli/Legolas Greenleaf; Gimli, Legolas, Thranduil, Elrond Peredhel, Glóin
Prompt: "Daddy/Princess - soft BDSM, BDSM lifestyle rules daily. It's finally time to come out to their parents about their relationship. How will this go over? Can they exist as a happy family and put aside racism? you decide! (We know at the very least Elrond genuinely can)"
Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth
Characters: Annatar/Celebrimbor; Annatar, Celebrimbor
Prompt: "I would love something in which sub!Annatar teaches Tyelpe how to do shibari/rope bondage/predicament bondage, especially if they are playing on Tyelpe's scientific curiosity and desire to learn new things. Super bonus points if Annatar doesn't come."
Romance/relationship prompts:
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth
Characters: Elrond Peredhel/Ereinion Gil-galad; Elrond Peredhel, Ereinion Gil-galad, Celebrían
Prompt: "Just the High King and his Herald and an exploration of their relationship."
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power
Characters: Elanor "Nori" Brandyfoot, Halbrand
Prompt: "if anyone chooses to go there, I applaud you. :D Basically "what if Nori meets Halbrand and not The Stranger", and it goes decidedly NOT gen. Anything from cute one-sided crush to messed up dubcon is totally welcome, just please make sure Nori is an adult (by hobbit standards) if there's any sexual content."
Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth
Characters: Eönwë/Sauron; Mairon, Eönwë
Prompt: "Something set in the Earliest Days of Arda (despite the Eonwe/Sauron tag... I guess that covers Mairon before he became Sauron too). Perhaps Mairon and Eonwe sneaking off together behind their Valar's backs when they should be working? Something a bit more innocent/playful - though an E or M rating is fine - but with hints of Mairon's awful personality peeking through."
#lord of the rings secret santa#lotr sesa#fandom event#lord of the rings#the hobbit#the silmarillion#the rings of power#prompt meme#holiday prompt meme#still looking for writers#looking for lotr: rop writers#looking for silm writers#ao3 exchange#signal boost#help the mods out#kink fic prompts#gen prompts#m/m prompts#fanfic#silm fic#lotr rop fic#deadline reminder#tolkien
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A Vision to Behold - LaCroix x Reader
Written as a gift for @leviathan-dee as part of @porcelainseashore 's VtM Secret Santa Writers 2024.
Thank you to Porcelain for hosting this event! Also thank you to @diableriedoll for the VTM divider!
Summary: Prince LaCroix has a brief moment with his lover, the reader as a Malkavian woman, when an unexpected premonition faces them both.
Tags: Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Manipulation from Malkavian Premonitions
Also found on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61589038
The Prince is in a rare, contemplative mood tonight. The lights to his office have been dimmed to a soft amber, casting long shadows on the walls. The curtains framing his windows have been opened to reveal the shining cityscape below. A single candlestick lit with a flame is sitting on his desk.
The Sheriff is absent tonight, leaving you as the Prince’s lone audience. Only you can witness him and listen to what he has to say. Feel what he has to feel. Give what needs to be given.
You knew what you would be in for when he sent you the email earlier that evening, an uncharacteristically short and terse message that simply reads:
Come see me. I need you.
-SL
You didn’t need any further explanation. You left your apartment right away and made your way to his penthouse. Though you sensed no danger, you felt the need to rush over to his side as soon as you could. You like the pleasure of knowing when you are wanted, when exactly you can see him, and when he’ll have nothing else on his mind but you.
You savor the moments when you become the center of his night, for good or bad reasons alike.
When you enter the room, you find the Prince standing by the window with his back facing you.The amber glow accentuates the sharp lines of his silhouette, casting an ethereal light. You smile at his regal image. You walk then pause a few steps away, knowing better than to approach too quickly. He values his solitude and insists on dictating the pace of every interaction. You have always obliged him in this peculiar habit.
When he finally turns, his gaze meets yours. The light in his eyes flickers like the flame on his desk, captivating and inscrutable. He beckons you forward with two fingers, a gesture as commanding as it is intimate. You close the distance and take your place by his side by the window.
“Look,” he says softly, nodding toward the skyline. The city’s lights shimmer against the dark expanse, reflecting in the glass like stars in a fractured sky. You follow his gaze as he peers up and then down, wondering if he seeks solace in the view, or is lost in thoughts of struggles yet to come.
The Prince breaks the silence with a solemn sigh, “...I do not take comfort in knowing what lies in the nights ahead,” he begins, his words deliberate and measured as if reciting a soliloquy. “There will be blood shed in the name of peace, lives taken and names erased. Nothing but strife, pain, and anguish until a victor can rise from the ashes. To bear the torch of this unhappy reunion… it is a heavy burden to bear.”
You hear the concern and careful cadence of his voice. It is clear to you that he has been struggling with thoughts in his head, envisioning the battles that have yet to happen, calculating the victories and losses that may or may not happen. You know he wants nothing more than for the Camarilla to win the war and remain unscathed. But the chances of such an outcome are miniscule, and it is far more likely that all sides will burn in the flames.
You speak up, your voice calm and resolute. “You must stay strong, my Prince. This city needs you to be its steadfast leader. Keep your head up high and your heart steady. I know you will be able to do what needs to be done.” You turn to look at him and offer your bright-eyed smile, a silent reassurance that’s weighted in genuine conviction.
When he turns, his expression changes from somber to transfixed. His tightly pursed lips come undone and fall agape to your timeless beauty. You have found ways to embolden him with the quiet strength you offer, and you have learned early on that an earnest smile is his greatest weakness. A simple gesture that shows how he is capable of sparking happiness in people despite his difficult reputation.
He pauses for a moment to gather himself. “I appreciate your kindness. It is rare these nights. Not many would dare to meet my gaze and yet, you would welcome it with the sweetest glance. You cannot tell me to keep my heart steady when you greet me with such affection.”
You smile with suggestive thoughts dancing on your lips. You step closer and brush your hand against his arm with a deliberate tenderness. He shivers beneath your fingertips, unbuckling his defenses. “Use this moment to remind yourself what’s at stake, what you have waiting for you here,” you whisper.
He lifts his hand to your face, his fingers tracing the outline of your cheek and jaw delicately. “I am aware,” he says, his voice rumbling, “I have an entire court and loyalists behind me. Vast amounts of wealth and influence in both the Kindred and kine worlds. And you… the unwavering support of a beautiful woman by my side. I can say I have experienced the kind of love that poets immortalize in sonnets. Ours is a bond destined to be recited by future generations - a Prince and his greatest love, side by side for eternity.” He dips to kiss your hand, a gesture both chivalrous and deeply intimate. The faint warmth of his soft lips linger on your skin, sending a shiver through your arm. His light blue eyes meet yours again, full of devotion and unspoken promises. He caresses and massages your hand as he kisses it again, causing your undead heart to beat once more. Your blood stirs and warms on its own to form a pink flush on your cheeks and lips.
As he pulls away, lean forward with your own tender kiss. You hold his face in your hands as you lock your lips onto his to fervently show your own devotion by deepening the connection. Lips and tongues intertwine in a brief show of heated passion, a brazen display that would lead to bedroom activities, if not for the chaste love and sorrow that pervades in the mood tonight.
When you pull back, his eyes glisten with a boyish innocence that clings to every part of you. He admires you with a quiet reverence, as if his only desire is to please and appease you. He lays his vulnerability before you, a gift he offers with the belief that you will soothe him, comfort him, and protect him from his worst enemies. You want nothing more than to grant that wish.
In return, you want so badly for him to trust your guidance. You want him to listen to you, to take you more seriously and let you into more of his life, heart, and soul. You want him to know that he is a greater man with you by his side. No one can give him the happiness he yearns or grant the power he seeks more than you can.
You wish he would entrust you with the reins in court so you can turn the city around to work for the better. You’ve worked long and hard for him, only to see his failing schemes threaten to tear the city apart. You cannot bear to see either him or the city fall into ruin.
This city is nothing without you. He is nothing without you.
You tell him without words, sharing with a gleam in your eye. You and him are frozen in place as a wave of unspeakable emotions pours through you both. All of the love, fear and regret, all of the hard thoughts about the city and the love that you share crumbling away. Images of chaos, death, and the city’s destruction flood your mind and carry over to him. Nightmares of the Anarchs running rampant through the streets of LA, toting the corpses of members of the Camarilla on pikes and stakes. The Kuei Jin close behind them to finish their massacre and eliminate the Kindred species. This is the fate that you envision without your guidance, love, and faith by his side.
The weight of your visions, coupled with the intensity of your shared emotions, seem to overwhelm him. He shakes and sinks to his knees, tears of blood streaking down his cheeks.
You kneel down beside him, cradling him against you as his body trembles from his sobs. He throws himself onto you and clings on tight, resting his face onto your bosom. You hold him there tenderly and run your fingers through his hair.
“My love…these visions, these premonitions… they torment me. I fear that the weight of my decisions will leave the city to ruin, rather than lead it to triumph. I cannot bear the thought of losing this city to chaos, to extinction, to our Final Deaths. I cannot stand not knowing the path ahead of us with any certainty. I do not know if I can be strong. The fear, it… consumes me.”
Your heart aches from his confession, and you tighten your hold on him. You almost feel guilty over what you’ve done. You intended to share your visions as a cautionary tale, not an omen. You only want to protect him at all costs.
“My love, it is okay to cry,” you assure him, your own voice trembling under suppressed sobs, “It is okay to feel the weight of what’s to come. It will no doubt be the strongest obstacle you’ve yet to face. But when you finally stand to let your tears dry, remember that you have the strength to carry us forward. It is you who will rise up and overcome it. You are not alone and you will not face this without me. I love you, Sebastian. I believe in us.”
A stronger torrent of tears begins to fall from Sebastian’s eyes, further staining and soaking your blouse. He falls to your lap and wraps his hands around your legs as he continues to weep. All of the stress and emotions escape through his lips in the form of frantic gasps and breaths. You finally begin to cry yourself with your head tilted up toward the dark ceiling.
You let the red tears roll down your cheeks and neck as your heart fills with a cathartic sadness. Your chest stings with the painful sensation of human emotion; the remnants of your humanity linger within your soul to claw and tear at your consciousness. In this vulnerable moment, you realize this is what true love is. What you are hurt, he is hurt. When he hurts, you are hurt. When both of you cry, the outside world seems more cold and distant. But what the two of you have instead is shared experience. The shared thought that no matter what happens to either of you outside of this intimate moment, they can never take this away from you. They can never take away the emotion, the fears, the sheer love and the bond that you both share.
In this moment, the bond between you feels unbreakable—a shared resilience that neither war nor politics could ever tear apart. In this moment, the world outside becomes irrelevant. Here in this courtroom, it’s just you and Sebastian. You are the rulers of your own Kingdom where there is only the shared love and freedom between you.
Whatever lies ahead, you will face it together. They can never take this from you, and you will ensure that nothing and no one ever will.
#vtm#vtmb#vampire the masquerade#vampire the masquerade bloodlines#sebastian lacroix#vtm secret santa writers 2024#fanfic
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I am excited to announce the Sign-Ups for our Secret Santa Fic Exchange 2024! These will be open until November 4th. There will be a minimum wordcount of 1000 words per fic. You will be contacted by the 6th of November with your recipient and their preferences as filled in on the form. Posting week will be from the 25th of December to the 1st of January. You have until the end of this posting week to complete and submit your half of the exchange! If you wish to join the exchange, hop into our discord! We all hope to see you there!
#deadclawsficcord#deadclaws ficcord#deadclaws#poolverine#deadpool 3#deadpool and wolverine#secret santa fic exchange#fic exchange#fanfic exchange#fandom event#fic writers#fanfic writers#writers#logan howlett x wade wilson#logan howlett#wade wilson x logan howlett#wade wilson#deadpool#wolverine#logan x wade#deadpool x wolverine#worst wolverine#peanutbub
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I've had literally the worst day today and thought I'd be miserable all day, but I almost instantly started to feel better when I started writing. This is why you should write for yourself and no one else. Yes, it's nice when people recognise your writing and the effort you put into it, but at the end of the day, you're doing this for free. You might as well do it because you enjoy it, or because it makes you feel better after a bad day or for literally any other reason than the likes/comments. It doesn't even matter if your writing is 'bad' (which is very subjective btw), or if you're an artist, or whatever. As long as you enjoyed creating it, that's what counts
#sorry for the little rant#my depression has been bad all day#but writing really helped#it was the only productive thing i've done all day#and now i've finished the first chapter for my secret santa#writing#writers#ao3 writer#fanfic authors#fanfiction
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Title: Two Weeks Before Christmas
Pairing: Ian/Anthony, Courtney/Shayne, Arasha/Trevor
Rating: General
Summary:
As if Ian and Angela’s conversation summoned him, Anthony pads into the kitchen, smiling at Ian and then coming around the counter to stand next to Ian. He smiles at the phone.
“Hey, hon!”
“Hi, Pop!” Angela says, sitting down in the beaten-up recliner in the living room of her dorm.
“Dad and I are excited to see you on Friday!”
As Anthony takes over the conversation Ian turns and gets down Anthony’s favorite coffee cup and opens the fridge to get out the vegan coffee creamer Anthony likes. After ten years of marriage and many more of dating and friendship -and four kids- the two of them work in a seamless rhythm, like a well-oiled machine.
Notes: This is my secret santa gift for @angelwiththeblue-box merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy it!
#ianthony#shourtney#trevrasha#my writing#my fic#smoshblr secret santa#smoshblr secret santa 2024#ao3 fanfic#ao3#ao3feed#ao3 writer#ao3 link#fanfic#archive of our own#fanfiction#fluff#adoption#angelwiththeblue-box
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New Fic!!
This one’s a Secret Santa gift. Their one wish was for angst. A lot of angst.
⚠️Warning for character death!⚠️ It’s not graphic or anything but [redacted] still dies, soooo…
Read below the cut ⬇️
If Shadow had known what would happen, he would’ve never done such a thing. Wouldn’t have ever thought of it— he shouldn’t have thought of it at all, regardless of what happened after.
Perhaps he was a hypocrite.
It was all his fault.
……………………………………………………
……………………………………………………
It was an accident.
Shadow knew this, yet he couldn’t help the blazing fury that buried itself in his gut. Why did Sonic have to be such a moron?! That cocky, blue, son-of-a-bitch hedgehog just had to go around meddling in everyone’s business and ruining everything!
He… he’d been so close. So close. Then— Chaos, he wished he could just throttle that—
“Shads?”
There was only one person bold enough to call him by a nickname that lame. Shadow growled, hoping that he would go away, but a second later he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. The black hedgehog whipped his head around, crimson eyes piercing emerald, and jerked away.
“Woah! Geez, take a chill pill.” Sonic huffed, his breath visible in the chill air. “What’s wrong?”
“Gee, I wonder.” Shadow spat, baring his fangs at the hero. “Oh, maybe it’s what happened this morning!”
Sonic reacted with no more than a twitch of his face at the comment, as if it had been nothing important at all. “Dude,” he started, taking another step closer, only to be cut off by Shadow.
“Do NOT ‘dude’ me, faker. Do you even know what you did?”
The confusion that settled on Sonic’s face as he tried to recall told Shadow everything he needed to know. “You don’t. Of course you don’t. What did I expect?”
“Shads—”
“My name is Shadow.”
“Shadow. Look, I… I’m sorry I made you upset—”
“‘Upset’ is an understatement. I hate you with every fiber of my being.”
Sonic frowned, his fingers doing a nervous tap dance on his elbow. “Okay, why— sorry, what random nerve did I touch this time? What happened?”
“If you don’t know, I can't help you.” Shadow snarled in response. Without another word, he sped off, rocket skates flaring as he slid down the icy hill. He hoped to lose the other hedgehog, but Sonic clearly had other ideas as he gave chase.
Sadly, the blue blur had always been just a little faster than Shadow, as much as he hated to admit it. Sonic eventually caught up in their impromptu race, trying and failing to talk with the sheer speed tearing apart any sound he made. Could he not see that Shadow wanted to be left alone? He was practically pleading to get decked.
A few moments more of this game of cat-and-mouse caused Shadow to snap. Scratch trying to clear his head. Sonic isn’t , nor will be, letting up— that much was clear. Well, fine. He’d share a few choice words with the idiot, since he wanted it sooo badly.
Shadow abruptly turned around, grabbing Sonic by the shoulders and slamming him into the ground. “This is all just a game to you, isn’t it? You think it’s just harmless fun.” He spat, the bitter malice in his voice surprising even himself. “You play the hero and inflate your ego, basking in the limelight and not caring about what you leave behind.”
“What do you mean?” Sonic grunted, flipping Shadow off him and getting up, dodging furious punches.
“You know exactly what I mean. You just don’t care.” Shadow sneered, letting his barriers break. Pent up frustration and disappointment morphed into anger, fueling the fire that now burned openly. His fist caught the hero’s jaw with a crack, causing him to stumble and giving Shadow the opening to kick him firmly in the gut. “People got hurt. Hospitalized. Things were burned, shattered, destroyed in that building, and you turn tail and run off without a second thought. The fastest thing alive can’t be bothered to clean up his own messes, apparently.”
“I… I didn’t know.” Sonic whispered, distraught. He dizzily sidestepped Shadow’s chaos spear. “I was focused on… the badniks—”
“Something you should’ve gotten rid of a long time ago.” Shadow retorted. “But you’re too busy going off on adventures.” Both hedgehogs were out of breath by now, clouds of mist puffing out with every breath. The reasons for both, however, were very different: Sonic had gotten it knocked out of him, figuratively and literally; Shadow had spent all his breath screaming. “I was in that building, Sonic. It nearly came down. But do you care?”
“I—”
“What would make you care? Does someone important to you have to die before you come down Earth? What if… what if it had been Tails, huh? Would you finally realize your stupidity then?”
That was low. Shadow realized as soon as those words left his mouth— there was nothing that Sonic cared for more than his friends. Not even himself. But he faltered at that, and the black hedgehog took the chance to lunge, the thought disintegrating.
The both of them went tumbling, and Shadow ended up on top, pinning the other firmly to the ground. It was completely unnecessary, anyhow— the “hero” didn’t seem very keen on escaping.
“Next time,” Shadow continued after a moment, his voice low. He glared at Sonic with bloody ruby eyes, hoping that his message would finally get through that thick skull of his. “Remember what’s around you. And when someone gets hurt because of your idiotic actions, make sure it’s you.”
Then he warped away, unaware of the single tear that traced down Sonic’s face, that which was etched with a wounded expression of acknowledgement.
……
Miles away, in a luxurious apartment above the dazzling Club Rouge, Shadow reappeared in a flash of light. What would scare the wits out of most people had become customary in this unconventional household, and the bat barely glanced up from her spot on the couch. “Welcome back, hun. Are you feeling better?”
“No.” Shadow growled, the lingering anger from his fight beginning to wane, leaving just exhaustion. Rouge pursed her lips, looking the scruffed up ultimate lifeform over.
“You ran into Sonic.” She stated, not as a question but as a fact. It wasn’t too hard to guess— after all, there’s no one else that cracked the stoic Shadow— in more ways than one— as much as his archrival.
“He ran into me.” Shadow huffed in response. Rouge shook her head, chuckling to herself.
“I assume you two had another lover’s spat?”
Brilliant crimson glared daggers at Rouge, who was unfazed. “He is NOT my ‘lover!’ I can’t stand him.”
“Sure thing, hun,” the bat laughed. “So explain why your muzzle suddenly matches your stripes.”
“I… Shut up!” Shadow yelled, his voice cracking. He was in no mood to deal with Rouge’s bullshittery. Storming up to his room and slamming the door, he collapsed beside the bed and buried his face into his arms, breathing heavily.
Why was everything going wrong today?
He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. He might have even fallen asleep at some point— he didn’t know. But he remembers when Rouge knocked on the door and came in (without permission), and sat down beside him.
“Hey. I’m sorry,” she started softly. “Are you feeling alright?”
Shadow lifted his head and shook his hand at her. So-so.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He didn’t answer, instead turning away. Rouge sighed. She was hoping he would open up; not that she expected much. She tried a different tactic. “Well, I heard the paper files from the ARK were destroyed today, but they probably had digital or backup ones. That’s what you were looking for, right?”
That caught Shadow’s attention. The hedgehog perked up immediately— because it was. Not that he’d tell anyone (but Rouge was smart enough to know), but he’d been digging through just about everything to find the records from the ARK, a piece of his past, and it just so happened that the building that held them got torn apart. He thought they were gone, but Rouge’s words sparked hope— and regret.
Shadow slumped once more, the harsh words he’d shouted with such misplaced fury earlier grating on his ears. “Rouge, I… I yelled at Sonic. For destroying those. It was an accident— not even his fault! He was trying to help. And I lashed out at him for it… I-I think… I went too far.”
Rouge patted his arm gently. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for Shadow to act without thinking. “It’s alright. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“Really?”
“Of course. You know him. Now come on, let’s get started on those files. You can apologize the next time he comes around.”
Shadow nodded. “Okay…Thanks, Rouge.”
“No problem.”
……………………………………………………
“What happened?”
Shadow looked up from the computer quizzically, deep in everything they’d dug out of government files. Rouge stood in the doorway, phone in hand, barely concealed worry written on her face. “Two weeks ago. You… Tails, I’ll call you back.” The bat said, promptly hanging up. She took a breath before continuing. “You came home after fighting with Sonic. Shadow, what happened exactly? What did you say?”
“Is that really important?” Shadow winced, mentally shoving the resurfacing memory down. “What’s going on?”
“He’s gone off the radar. It’s Christmas Eve, and no one has seen nor heard from him since you—”
Shadow didn’t hear the rest of her sentence. He’d already dashed out, heart pounding, rocket skates leaving a trail of slush in the freshly fallen snow.
……
Rouge frantically pinged Shadow’s communicator, but he didn’t bother to answer— instead turning the thing off— too wrapped up in his thoughts as he sped through crisp, pale scenery. It can’t be that hard to spot a speck of blue against it all, right?
Sonic was known to disappear for days at a time, doing who-knows-what. But two weeks was a record without any word, for as much as Shadow knew, plus the blue hedgehog always returned for special occasions. And what more occasional than a white Christmas?
There was definitely something going on. Something bad.
Shadow had a sinking feeling that it was caused by himself.
Harsh words reverberated in his skull, his mind having handily retrieved them from the back of his Things To Forget pile.
Where was that idiot?
……
He must’ve searched through half the country before catching a glimpse of the blue blur trudging through some inconspicuous woods, heading somewhere in deep. Shadow grumbled in annoyance as he changed direction and chased after Sonic. So he was okay, just ignoring all of his friends.
A closer look, however, told a slightly different story. The hero’s lithe frame was marred by neglected scrapes and bruises of unknown origin, and Shadow could see, both from the rise and fall of his chest and the puffs that left his lips, that his breathing was labored. Shadow’s brow furrowed with concern. What happened?
Before the black hedgehog had a chance to call out to him, Sonic slowed, his ears flicking, likely picking up on the sound of snow crunching under metal shoes. Then he turned around.
“Shadow.”
Shadow decided that he’d prefer one of his nicknames right then. It was unnerving to hear his name, partnered with an uncharacteristically serious expression, come out of Sonic’s mouth. But of course he didn’t say that. “Where have you been?” He asked instead.
“Places. Does it concern you?”
Yeah, this— this whole thing— was unnerving. Shadow couldn’t put his finger on why. “I… It’s Christmas Eve. You’ve been gone for two weeks. Your friends are looking for you.”
“Oh.” Sonic responded, much less of a reaction than Shadow had been expecting “Tell them I won’t be there. I’ve got things to do.”
And he ran. The little bitch ran off before Shadow could get another word in, causing him to stiffen in frustration. What—
That’s when it struck him. Sonic was acting just like him. It seemed as if the events from two weeks prior were playing out with them on opposite sides.
In an ironic twist of fate, that left Shadow to play the role of annoying, stubborn pain-in-the-butt.
He groaned and chased after Sonic, hoping to catch up before he lost him.
……
Unfortunately, Sonic quickly outpaced Shadow, who did terribly in this kind of terrain. He ended up stumbling blindly through the woods trying to find his blue rival again. Luckily, the “things'' Sonic had to do weren’t exactly quiet. Horrendous screeching of metal and machinery, punctuated by the sound of an explosion, led Shadow to his destination: an abandoned Eggman base. Sonic had clearly wasted no time tearing through the thing, and Shadow followed the trail of destruction out the other side.
Well, maybe abandoned wasn’t the right word. A hoard of beeping badniks surrounded Sonic, their glowing eyes failing to elicit any fear as the hero stared them down with half-lidded eyes. In the absence of shadow-casting trees, the winter sun highlighted the dark bags upon Sonic’s pale muzzle, along with a fresh scratch that he took no notice of. He readied himself into a fighting stance, waiting. Then the first bot attacked— but not at him.
Shadow jumped, the bolt missing his face by only a millimeter— much too close for comfort. Oh, right. He was in enemy territory. He snapped out of his thoughts and shifted gears, spin-dashing the badnik and landing beside Sonic.
But as they fought, Shadow noticed two things: one, Sonic was slower, his attacks not as effective as they usually were. Although, that wasn’t unexpected— Sonic was observably injured, after all. What both worried and frustrated Shadow was number two: most of the time, the two hedgehogs fought side by side in perfect sync. It was like magic, the way they clicked. But this time…
“Stop trying to protect me,” Shadow growls, ducking as Sonic flipped over his head and stomped on a badnik beside him. “I can handle myself.”
“Sure. Like that bot didn’t almost blow your head off earlier.”
Well, at least he got his sass back, Shadow thought, rolling his eyes. “That was one time. Focus on yourself. You’re hurt.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?!” Sonic snapped, his voice breaking. “Gods, do you hear yourself?”
Shadow stopped dead, the weight of the remark hitting him like a train. Oh. Oh, Chaos. That’s… He didn’t mean… Had Sonic…?
Any words he wanted to say stuck in his throat. Amidst the flurry of frantic thoughts came one which was clear as crystal: You caused this. Whatever Sonic’s been doing to himself is because of you.
“Oh Sonic, you’re a terrible hero.” Sonic drawled in a horrible imitation of Shadow’s voice. “Go fuck yourself over more than you already are.” He delivered a swift kick to a motobug and sent it crashing through the last of the badniks. Emerald eyes brimmed with tears, and one escaped, tracing a path down his cheek.
He’s crying. Chaos, he’s crying. Shadow had never seen Sonic cry before. He wanted it to stop.
But Sonic didn’t stop. “Oh, w-wait, you did what I said. Actually, do this instead,” he shakily continued.
“What do you want from me?! What… What more? I… everyone else is clear. I’ve got to be a hero. The hero. The supposed better person. The light in the dark. The beacon of hope. I… I’ve got to be everything. I can’t— I can’t cry. I want to cry. I shouldn’t be crying. Why am I crying?” He rubbed at his eyes furiously, but the tears just came faster, along with his breaths. Eventually he gave up and looked up at Shadow numbly, face flushed and damp. “What… What am I doing wrong?”
Shadow, who had been standing there like an idiot, speechless, finally found his voice. “Sonic…” he whispered, taking a step forward.
That’s as far as he got.
Because then everything collapsed, all too fast; but at the same time, all too slow.
…A badnik. They’d missed one. Or maybe just didn’t smash it hard enough.
With the last of its artificial life, it fired at Shadow, who, mind reeling from Sonic’s mental breakdown, froze on the spot. His mind screamed at his body to move, but he simply could not react fast enough.
The shot didn’t make it to its target, though.
Because Sonic was there instead.
The bolt punched through the hedgehog, somewhere among his ribcage, then out the other side, bringing a burst of bright red, stark against royal blue.
Sonic collapsed to his hands and knees, taking in a single, sharp breath.
Shadow doesn’t remember screaming.
But he knows he heard it— shocked, terrified, piercing— as he dropped to the ground beside his counterpart.
No, no, no.
Warm blood ate at crystal white snow, melting it into a sickening slush.
Sonic toppled into Shadow, coughing, droplets of red dripping down his chin.
He weakly grabbed at his chest as Shadow frantically turned him over, exposing the worst of it.
It was a gruesome sight, one indescribable, one his memory blurred out.
…Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew then that Sonic wouldn’t make it.
In a twisted way, it both calmed him and panicked him.
He peeled off now blood-soaked gloves, fumbling with his communicator before pressing SOS.
Then he applied pressure to the wound, wincing at Sonic’s pained whimpers.
“Shad… Shadow. Shads.”
Shadow hesitantly looked over.
Sonic’s usually lively emerald eyes were devoid of the spark that Shadow so liked to see. They’d taken on a dull, glassy look, struggling to focus on Shadow’s face.
“Y-you’re… you’re crying,” he mumbled.
Shadow blinked, processing the remark. “That’s… that’s not important!”
Sonic didn’t seem to hear him. “Hmm… you m’kay?”
The sudden question so clearly contrasted the situation at hand that Shadow could help but choke out a bitter laugh. “What? Y-yes. No. I don’t know any more. Why…That sounds like a question I should be asking you?”
“Mmm… ‘m fine. Always fine.” Sonic replied absently, his head lulling to the side. “Sleepy…”
“No!” Shadow yipped, eliciting a disappointed whine from the injured hero. “No. No, no. Stay awake, Sonic. Th-they’ll be here soon. You’ll… you’ll be okay. Okay. Please.”
Sonic shook his head lethargically. “Shadow. I… Don’t cry… hate crying.”
“Sonic. T-that’s not important,” Shadow chokes. He opted to let up on the pressure, which was not doing anything to reduce the bloody puddle that formed beneath the two. Instead, he gently gathered the other in his arms, cradling him against his chest like it would fix everything. “I… earlier you asked what I wanted from you. I need you to stay alive. Please, Sonic, please.”
Sonic blinked, slow, deathly. “Sorry. Can’t… can’t do that,” he whispers, pressing against the patch of fluff, and Shadow sobs in protest.
“No no n-no, Sonic, please. Sonic!”
“Shhh…” Bare paw pads pick up on the sensation of touch, and Shadow realizes that Sonic was grasping his hand. “Shhh… ‘s gonna be okay, Shads. Mhm? ‘Innit funny… this is how— I die… after everything…”
“Y-you’re not going to die, Sonic. You’re not! Sonic, Sonic, Sonic…” Shadow shook him in a desperate attempt to keep him awake. He absently wondered if Sonic could hear his erratic heartbeat as he rambled, straining to pick up on sounds of rescue.
“Sonic, Sonic, please. They’re coming. Just… just hold on. They’ll help you and you’ll be okay and everything’ll be fine. Sonic. Sonic, I-I’ll take you on a vacation, okay? Anywhere you’d like. As a Christmas present! You deserve it. Okay? Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die… Sonic?”
No response.
Shadow looked down in panic to find that Sonic’s eyes had drifted closed, a single teardrop belonging to himself trailing down a blue eyelid. “Sonic! Wake up wake up wake up—”
“Mmph… squishing me…” he weakly mumbled. Shadow had never felt more relief in his life as when Sonic shifted in his arms.
But that relief was short-lived.
“Shads… don’t blame yourself, m’kay? ‘S not… ‘s not your fault… not— your fault…” Sonic whispers, his words slurring together. He gave Shadow’s hand a light squeeze. Then his head drooped and he exhaled, shallow, content.
He did not take another breath.
Shadow let out an unholy screech. “S-Sonic! Nononononono Sonic, Sonic y-you’re supposed to be home for Christmas, Sonic, what about your friends?! I… don’t do this to me— please! I’m sorry! Wake up. Please. I need you! I can’t do this again, Sonic. Sonic! I… I love you, Sonic. I love you.” And he did. Shadow confessed, to himself as much as to his lover, something he’d always denied, something which was always true, in a frenzied attempt at the impossible.
It was too late.
Much too late.
On a day that was meant to be joyful, filled with holiday cheer,
A life was lost, and another, shattered beyond repair.
#sonic#sonic the hedgehog#shadow the hedgehog#sonadow#writing#fanfic#fanfiction#ao3#angst#whump#character death#writers on tumblr#writeblr#oneshot#secret santa#merry christmas#CatieCatWorks
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Parker's Secret Santa Gifts🎄for @alphawolfstabs
YOUR HEART OR MINE
One knew what he wanted but didn’t know how to persuade. The other knew how he wanted to take it but was holding back.
fandom: Scream pairing: Billy Loomis × Stu Macher characters: Billy Loomis & Stu Macher a/n: i've never written about stuilly before so i have no idea how accurate this may or may not be. i'm so sorry for all the billy and stu writers that gag at this haha. anyways, enjoy :)
While it had only been a little over an hour since Billy had been submerged into his homework, it had felt like hours for Stu. He had gone through as many activities as he could to keep him entertained, while the other was still reading, writing, or doing whatever it was he was doing for class. He liked having him over, but he didn’t like spending it without talking or engaging in anything together, at all. There was no telling when he would be summoned home by a phone call.
On the other hand, Billy didn’t mind not actually doing anything together. They didn’t have to talk or even acknowledge each other. Just being in the same room was enough for him, even though staring at the same formatted words and questions over and over again made his head pound.
“Billyyy…”
Stu’s voice interrupted his concentration, but he didn’t look up. “What?”
“I’m bored. Are you almost done?” he asked, tossing up a tennis ball as he slouched his computer chair.
“You said it’d be fine if I worked on homework here,” came the flat reply.
His friend sighed a somewhat dramatic sigh and stopped throwing the ball up in the air. “Yeah, but do you think you could, like, take a break or something?”
He put his pencil down and glanced over his shoulder. “I guess.” There was a look in the blue eyes that stared back at him that said he wasn’t just looking for something to do. He knew what he wanted, he just needed acceptance. “What do you want to do?”
Macher’s signature grin grew on his face, however he still tried to play it cool as he got up to make his way towards the bed. “Well, I dunno—”
“Yeah, you do,” the other immediately cut him off with a light scoff, turning back to his homework.
“Just… chill out, maybe?” He jumped onto the mattress and crawled over to the head of it. He craned his neck a little to see over Billy’s shoulder. “If you can put your fuckin’ homework down, you teacher’s pet,” he teased.
“Hey.” Billy turned his head enough to look at him. “At least I actually do my homework. How many classes are you failing again?”
Stu took no offense, just continued to tease him, “You only do yours because your mommy tells you to.”
This time, he set his homework on the bedside table and turned to grab a pillow, which he smacked him with.
“Oww!” the older teen cried in mock pain, the impact knocking him off balance.
“Serves you right.”
Macher scoffed—in his now-lying position—and reached behind him. “Oh, yeah?” He pulled out another pillow and returned the slap. “Take that!” He hit the other’s upper back, which had him earning a sarcastic smirk.
“Was that supposed to hurt me?” Loomis turned around to face him, still holding his weapon as he crept onto the bed fully.
The way his voice sounded—steady and cool—sent a shiver down Stu’s spine, those dark eyes only influencing that flustered feeling that had been taunting him for months now. “No-ho,” he laughed as he shook his head, when Billy stalked closer to him. “This is!”
The flash of color that came towards the younger teen didn’t reach him like it was intended to, for he caught it with his free hand. Ocean eyes lit up before him, and he knew the exact words running through his head.
“Aw, I fucked up!”
Billy grinned a wolfish grin, “Yeah, you did.” He ripped the pillow out of Stu’s grip, then pelted him with both cushions at once. “Now, what are you gonna do?!”
Macher shouted in a playful way as he turned his back and put his arms over his head for protection. “That’s cheating!”
But the attacker didn’t care and pounced on his prey by straddling him with his knees. It was somewhat awkward, but he wasn’t thinking about that at the time. “How’s it cheating? You made a stupid move, you’re the one who got yourself into this,” he taunted, continuing to hit him.
“Billyyy!”
“Fight me! Fight me, like a man!”
By now, they just looked like two rambunctious puppies barking back and forth for the upper hand. As Stu continued to take the bombardment, he could hear Billy start to laugh, and it made his face burn. Billy didn’t laugh much, not in the playful, genuine way like this was. It was a little higher than the laughs he gave when making a snide comment or being sarcastic. It was a young-at-heart kind of expression, and that sent the underdog blushing immediately. He broke his makeshift cover to grab both of Billy’s wrists and hold them in a firm grip.
This caught him off-guard, which allowed the older teen to make his next move. Being taller, he was able to twist beneath his friend’s straddling knees and push himself into a semi-slouch, using the support of the headboard. He brought his knees up, which pushed Billy forward to have his knees corralling his hips and his backside supported by Stu’s thighs.
Suddenly, the lighthearted moment the other was immersed in vanished for one of surprise as he dropped the pillows. The words that he always managed to spit out around his friend were lost for mere silence as he could only blink into the bright eyes gazing at him.
This just made Stu smirk. He knew he had just taken control without giving any combative retaliation. He also knew his face was bright red with the amount of heat that surged through him at being that close to Billy, let alone having him basically locked onto his lap. “Now, what are you gonna do?” he used his own words against him.
Loomis swallowed, his heart racing while he instinctively tried to twist his wrists a little bit. He glanced away shyly, “U-um…” He was drawing a major blank, emphasis on major.
However, while it was awkward for one, it was endearing for the other. Macher released his wrists to then wrap his arms around his waist, holding him in place.
The tension between them had grown heavy in a matter of seconds, somewhere between hope and despair. It was uncertainty. One knew what he wanted but didn’t know how to persuade. The other knew how he wanted to take it but was holding back.
They were best friends, nothing more… right?
Billy braced himself to avoid falling onto Stu’s chest, one hand against the headboard and the other pressed against his shoulder. He couldn’t seem to glance up, not to meet those wild eyes that hid nothing, even though they were begging for his dark ones to comply. It was too risky. That’s the way he was. Once he started something, he wasn’t able to stop. A forged relationship was no different, especially with the amount of emotions involved. God, that was rough. “W-we can’t…” was all he managed to get out, his voice suddenly quiet and almost fearful of ears lurking beyond Stu’s bedroom walls, even though they were the only ones in the house.
“Says who?” came the retaliating challenge. It wasn’t strong or defensive. In fact, it was the softest Stu Macher had ever sounded in their time of knowing each other. And that was because he had finally found himself in this moment—the moment he’d been waiting for. He was fun-loving and dimwitted, but he knew how to make or break a chance. Billy was someone that he had never known before. He was like a stray dog that owned the streets, an artist before he made any art, a wild horse without any cowboy to tame him. He was reckless and rugged. He showed up, when it was least expected, and he was promised to give anyone around him plenty of trouble. That kind of person was nothing but the perfect match for Stu.
He wanted to be more than friends.
Billy tensed as he felt the older teen’s arms stretch farther around his waist, nearing the hem of his shirt. His voice steadied a little more, “My parents will kill me.”
The right half of Stu’s mouth turned up, dipping his head a little to catch his friend’s gaze. And with a gentle touch of his hand, he lifted his chin to do so. “Your parents don’t have to know,” he practically whispered.
The younger was locked in. He couldn’t look away or try to get out of the arms holding him still. His heart was beating so hard, he swore that it could be heard between the two of them. He wasn’t necessarily an anxious person, yet the feeling was strong in his stomach as his breathing began to deepen and trembled slightly. Being a teenage boy, he was often put under oath that he wasn’t scared of anything—that no matter what, he could take what he was given. How else were you supposed to survive? But this was the first time in years he could say that he felt fear. He could see Stu’s eyes jumping from his own to his lips, which made him tempted to pull away. He just wasn’t sure, so all he could think to say, if he even was thinking, was, “What?”
Because why was he looking so calm, yet excited? So hesitant, but sure? So careless, yet longing?
And for a response, Stu kissed him. He didn’t ask before he did it, but he didn’t seem to mind, actually leaning into it. One of Stu’s hands retreated from his lower back to hold the side of his face as he tilted his head to secure his lips.
He earned a soft moan from doing so.
A sensation of peace combed itself down Billy’s spine, easing the swirling anxiety that made him twisted in the spotlight of a decision. Now, the deed was done, only needing half of a two-person commitment to take one step closer. Surprisingly, Stu’s lips were soft as they manipulated his. Being nervous already, he knew his kiss wouldn’t come off very challenging, yet he didn’t expect that from a dare-devil, like his friend.
Macher rotated his thumb in smooth, gentle circles along the younger’s cheek bone, casually slipping his hand beneath his shirt to run his fingers up his side. He felt him shift closer, which delighted him, and he edged his knees up higher to hold that close space.
Loomis didn’t even realize his hand had drifted away from pressing against the older teen’s shoulder, until his fingers threaded through his hair, slightly tilting his head back. The support from Stu’s thighs had pushed him far enough to leave his knees straddling his sides, which left him taking somewhat of a dominant lead as he had to dip his head to keep the kiss strong.
This gave Macher a sense of bravery as he stretched his arm further around his waist to have his fingertips find the frontal surface of his torso. He purred as they paused for a quick breath, then went back to it. The other foreign hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair was looped around his neck, giving him open access to move his own as he pleased. And he did as he traced his fingertips over the contoured definition of the smaller male’s abs. They weren’t heavily defined, but they were impressive.
Billy shuddered at this, but it only made him come off stronger, gripping Stu’s hair while his other hand pressured his nape. The other’s digits trailed up his ribs then found the midline of his abdomen, where he carefully retreated downward. They dipped into his navel a little when they reached it, which made an involuntary growl rumble in Loomis’s throat, and he drug the hand on Stu’s neck down his back, feeling the owner moan into his mouth.
If things started to escalate, there would be more than uncompleted homework to pay for. They had known each other for a long time now, almost swearing to know each other better than themselves. They could be called a lot of things, but tonight they were a pair of desperados. Something about this night was making them cross the line.
They were playing with fire. Love wasn’t too far behind. It was just a matter of time…
Billy felt Stu’s hand ease down his jawline and cup the flank of his neck. He pulled back a little to catch the older’s bottom lip between his teeth and tug on it. His partener smirked and jerked a little to get free.
“You’re not feeling that nervous about this anymore, are you?” he was teased.
“Shut up,” he replied and pulled him into another kiss. And it was gladly accepted.
It was just a matter of time, for sure. There was no doubt about it.
Playing with fire was something dangerous but tempting. Especially for two frisky teens, like Billy Loomis and Stu Macher.
They were good at it. They played with fire, but they didn’t get burned.
They learned how to embrace the flames.
merry christmas billy!! i've really enjoyed being your friend, and i hope we stay friends for a while. you made me feel like it was okay to be myself on social media, and i'm very thankful for the kindness and support you've given to me. hope this isn't weird, but i love you dude 🩶 team loomis!! 🎄✨🐺
- parker (BWS)
#parkers secret santa gifts 2023#parkerwrites#scream#scream 1996#billy loomis#stu macher#stuilly#billy x stu#stu x billy#fluff#scream fanfic#stuilly fics#merry christmas#happy holidays#ao3#ao3 writer#ao3 fanfic#ao3 author#alphawolfstabs#blackwolfstabs
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So I write an OS for a Secret Santa on a french discord for a tomarrymort fan. But because No Glory inspire me a lot, this word have some reference to it and I drew inspiration from it to write, especially in the relationship between Harry and V. also for the atmosphere.
#tomarry#harry potter#harry/tom#tom riddle#harrymort#ship#harry potter ships#lord voldemort#ao3#ao3 fanfic#santa#secret santa#one shot#harry x tom#harry potter fanfiction#tomarrymort#ao3 link#ao3 writer#ao3feed#rarepair#proship#dark romance#dark aesthetic#d
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