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j2hoes · 4 months ago

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Intimate Treasures. (Steve Harrington x Adult Store Worker!Reader)

Word Count: 4.5K

Y/N works in an adult store and Steve can't seem to stay away.

Warning: Smut, p in v sex, cunnilingus (m and f receiving), dirty talk, knife kink, sex toys, mature language

Weekdays were always slow at Intimate Treasures, most people either working their regular 9-5’s or simply too embarrassed to be caught in an adult store mid week. Opting to discreetly shop on a Friday or Saturday night, hoping nobody will catch them. I often find myself amused by the actions of our customers, ninety percent of which seem to be ashamed of themselves for purchasing such ‘dirty’ products, as they like to call them.

Upon the opening of the store, many citizens of Hawkins were vocal of their displeasure at the presence of such a place. Believing that there was no place in the town for us. They argued that by opening within the Starcourt Mall, we would be indoctrinating their children into believing that sex is something that should be enjoyed and explored freely. Rather than an act of love that should only be taking place once married for the sole purpose of reproduction. There have been numerous occasions when I’ve argued with people about this, lecturing them on the importance of sexual liberation and safety rather than shaming people for their choices.

It was during one of these arguments that I met him for the first time. Wrapped up in a heated debate with none other than the local priest who was offering to save me from hell, I almost missed the mop of fluffy brown hair that hesitantly crossed the threshold of the store. He was trying to act casual, as though being here was no big deal, but I could tell he was nervous. Fumbled movements causing him to almost knock over a display of free condoms. To which he pocketed a few in the shorts of his little sailor outfit.

“What you are doing here in this store is sinful, I am only looking out for you young lady.” My eyes snap back to the priest who is glancing around the place in utter disgust, one hand gripping the cross around his neck, the other clutching a Bible.

“If you think this is sinful, you should see what I do in bed, old man.”

Despite losing sight of the sailor, I hear a muffled laugh coming from down one of the aisles and I can’t help but feel pleased that I’m not necessarily alone in this argument.

“You could be doing so much more with your life! You don’t need this filth, the Lord can set you on the right path if you would just let me cleanse you of your impurity.” The man pleads, his words failing to provide the impact he is hoping for.

Resting my elbows on the countertop, I lean towards the priest, hoping he pays attention to me. “Listen, I know for a fact that the Bible doesn’t specifically mention anything about sex toys or masturbation and not all of us are lucky enough to be in a relationship. Though I’m sure your wife isn’t exactly thrilled with her sex life.”

He gasps at my words, shuffling towards the door whilst muttering about ‘young dirty girls of today’.

“Be sure to send your wife in, her first vibrator is on me!”

As the door swings closed behind him, I let out a sigh of relief. Completely fed up of having the same arguments over and over again. My eyes fall back down to the stack of boxes by my feet, filled to the brim with new lingerie sets that need putting out on the shop floor.

Not wanting to waste any time, I quickly add the inventory to the system before hanging the black latex to the hangers. I won’t deny, it’s a gorgeous set. Shiny black bralette, so thin that the strap of fabric is only big enough to cover the nipple, with a matching thong, which also happens to be just as small. It leaves very little to the imagination, and I would be tempted to spend my paycheck on it, had I anybody to wear it for.

Finding a spot in one of the aisles, I begin to hang the various sizes on the wall. Careful to make sure that they’re all in size order so that they’re easy to find. A shuffle of feet towards the end of the aisle pulls me from my thoughts, the sailor intently staring at different wand vibrators. Every few seconds picking one up before putting it back with a shake of his head.

“Need some help?” I ask, hanging the last of the lingerie up and strolling towards him.

His eyes widen as I stand next to him, a deep red blush rising on his cheeks and I can’t help but smile softly at his awkwardness. I’m never one to assume, though I’m fairly certain this may be his first time in any adult stores. If his blush is anything to go by.

“Sorry, I just don’t really know what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

“Something for your girlfriend?” I push, the question slips off my tongue easily, one I generally ask all the male customers that look in need of assistance, yet something in me is praying that he answers with a no.

I won’t deny that he’s attractive, even with the unfortunate attire that he appears to be sporting. He has a boyish look about him due to the costume, it’s cute and soft. However, his chestnut brown eyes are dark and I can tell that he is very much a man.

“No, no girlfriend.” He admits, shoving his hands in his pockets, as he does so I’m able to catch a quick glimpse and notice the large size, backs of his palms displaying very prominent veins and I can’t help but squeeze my legs at the sight.

I’m not entirely sure what’s wrong with me. Never usually finding someone so attractive upon meeting for the first time, yet I’m practically drooling over the man in front of me. Even if I am putting on a very cool front.

“This is kind of awkward to admit but I wanted a vibrator you know for when I do have girls over. Just for something different I guess, in case my performance doesn’t cut it.”

I’m taken aback by his admission, most men refusing to believe they couldn’t be absolutely incredible in bed and insisting they’re only getting a toy because their wife wouldn’t stop pestering. To have a man so open about possibly not being perfect is refreshing and I realize I’m most definitely going to need some ice cold water then this customer leaves.

“Oh wow, that’s so thoughtful of you.” I tell him, moving slightly closer to the wall of products in order to assist him as best I can. Carefully, I grab a hot pink box, offering it to him. “So this is the newest wand vibrator we have, it has three different settings and a very long battery life. Trust me any girl would love it, it only took me about five minutes to cum when I used it for the first time.”

His eyes are focused on the box, teeth catching his bottom lip as he reads the information on the back. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, truly reading everything about the product in his hands. Something about him intrigues me, whether it be the sailor outfit or the fact that he truly cares about his sexual partners, I’m not sure.

“I’ll take it, thank you.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second time that the interesting sailor entered the store was only two days later. A Thursday evening, most of the stores in the mall were closing for the day, not us however. Opting to stay open later for more of a sense of privacy.

I’m idly flipping through one of the latest editions of Playboy magazine, staring down at the women sprawled out on the pages. They ooze confidence and sex appeal, something I could only dream of. Whilst I wouldn’t say I necessarily lack confidence, I most certainly do not have a string of guys desperate for my attention like the women in the magazine.

Completely wrapped up in my own thoughts as I turn the page, it’s only when a handful of products are placed on the countertop that I glance up. Boredom evident on my face, I’m counting down the minutes until I can close the store and head home for the night. That is, until I realize who the customer is.

“I didn’t think girls were into Playboy.”

Running a hand through his perfectly styled brown mane, he smiles at me as he speaks and I struggle to hide my excitement at his return. Though there is still a hint of red on his cheeks, he seems calmer this time, clearly less embarrassed by his visit.

“I don’t know if you can tell, but we don’t exactly stock academic reading material.” I joke, beginning to ring the items through the till.

Bottle of lube, metal handcuffs and black bondage tape. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no stranger to the kinky items that I ring out on a daily basis. Yet, something about the handsome sailor buying them has me weak at the knees and I have to look anywhere other than his face as I bag everything for him.

“Hey, I just wanted to thank you by the way.” Finally making eye contact with the man, I can’t hide my confusion at his words. “For your help last time, the vibrator was a big hit.”

“Oh right yeah. No problem at all, I’m glad I could offer my assistance.”

My smile falters, why am I jealous? I shouldn’t be jealous, I should be pleased that I could help another customer. Pleased that I’m allowing others to enjoy their wants and desires. However, something about knowing the stranger has already used my suggestion on another woman hurts. I sound desperate, it’s not like me to get hung up on a man I have only briefly interacted with twice and yet here I am.

“No seriously, it was the most intense hook up I’ve ever had and it’s all thanks to you.” He rummages through his pockets as he speaks, before sliding a piece of paper across the countertop.

Free ice cream on me - Steve.

“I work at Scoops Ahoy, figured I owed you one.”

“Now the sailor outfit makes sense.” I laugh softly, carefully folding the piece of paper and slipping it into my pocket.

“I know. It sucks, does not help me woo the ladies at all.” He smiles bashfully, handing me the cash to pay for the products.

“I think it’s cute.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop myself and my head drops to the floor, shaking it lightly, humiliated by what I just said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it’s just-”

“Good to know, I’ll see you later.” He looks at me expectantly, awaiting my name, as he makes his way towards the exit.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll see you later Y/N.”

The moment the door closes behind him, I slide to the carpeted floor, head in my hands, afraid I may have just completely made a fool of myself in front of Steve. Doing my best to get over how mortified I feel, I quickly stride to the door and flip the sign to closed, not wanting to humiliate myself further in front of any more customers tonight, even if I am technically supposed to be open for another hour and a half.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear to God John, if you take these home and add them to your wank bank, I am going to kill you with my bare hands.”

This week seems to be one embarrassing event after the next, standing in nothing but the new micro black latex lingerie, I pose awkwardly in front of the only blank wall in the building, allowing the store owner to take photos of me on the polaroid.

“Listen, we need to advertise what we have on offer, putting these pictures in the window is bound to gain more customers. Not to mention the added benefit of being served by the hot girl plastered in the window.” He states as though it's obvious, shoving a large kitchen knife into my hand which I take reluctantly. “Now spread those legs and lick the knife.”

Dropping to a squat, I spread my legs wide open, raising the knife to my mouth and seductively licking a stripe down the edge, careful not to cut myself. I may as well be completely naked with how little the lingerie covers, moving the knife to cover my vagina, I feign a gasp as he snaps another photo.

“You’re a natural, I’ll put these in the window and then I’m off for the night.”

I throw the knife on to the counter as I watch with folded arms how John sticks up the photos by the door. No doubt we’ll have complaints as each photo has me in increasingly compromised positions. It’s borderline pornographic.

Catching glimpses of the photos every couple of seconds, I can admit that I do look good. Incredibly good. They’re sexy and I feel empowered, it’s just a shame that they have to be on display for everybody to see. I’m all for being sexually liberated, I’m just not sure I believe everybody should be allowed to see me in such a vulnerable environment.

John leaves with a quick wave in my direction, flipping the sign on his way out so that I can finish my closing tasks in peace. Throwing myself down on the couch beside the window, I feel the shame start to flood my body. I begin to feel dirty and used, allowing my boss to take advantage of the fact that I have to follow his orders.

Is this how the women in Playboy feel? Never once have I questioned if selling dirty magazines is unethical, believing that the woman in them felt free and proud that they can be so open and sexual. Now I’m starting to think that perhaps that isn’t the case.

With my head resting against the back of the couch and my eyes fixated on the uneven tiles on the ceiling, I hear the door click open beside me. Internally sighing, I don’t avert my gaze as I speak.

“We’re closed!” Voice snappier than I intended it to be, however, I make no effort to apologize.

“I know, I’m sorry. I was just hoping you’d be here.”

Swinging my head to face the direction of the door, I match the voice to the speaker. Steve stands awkwardly in the entryway, eyes trailing over my body as I stand to greet him. His mouth drops open slightly, rubbing a hand over his plump cherry lips. Glancing down, I remember that I’m still only wearing the lingerie and heat floods my body.

“Shit, sorry. One second.”

I awkwardly jog to the back of the store as best I can in the heels strapped to my feet, I’m careful to wrap the long satin robe tightly around myself before making my way back over to Steve. Who stands in the same spot, unmoving. Eyes focused on me as I lean against the counter, arms crossed over my body in an effort to keep the robe covering me.

“So what can I help you with?” I ask, voice shaking every so slightly due to the interaction only moments ago.

“You look incredible in that.”

Although my eyes are firmly fixated on the ground, I smile nervously at his words. Hearing the shuffle of his feet, I look up only to see him standing just a couple of feet away from me. Clad in his sailor uniform once again, I allow myself to gaze over his physique. Thick legs that wear the shorts well, tight in all the right places. Arms defined showing off the muscles he has built. Pulling myself from my thoughts, I round the counter, hoping that the distance between us will ease the ache between my thighs.

“Steve I really should be closing, did you need help with something?”

I notice his eyes fall to his shorts, an impressive tent having formed and I have to hold my breath so as not to drop straight to my knees. Without a word, he slowly reaches across the counter, gently knocking the robe from my shoulders, exposing me to him once again.

“Just tell me to stop and I will.” He speaks quietly, so quiet I almost don’t catch it.

There’s a look of animalistic hunger on his face, one that is new to me. A stark contrast to the boyish smile he usually sports. Within seconds he’s leaning across the counter, capturing his lips with mine, one hand tightly grasping the back of my neck for support, whilst I grip at his shirt. His kiss is fuelled by passion and while it’s rough there’s a feeling of comfort that I can’t describe.

Without thinking, I’m striding back around the counter, pushing him backwards so that he flops down on the couch. Allowing me to take a seat on his lap, his erection firmly pressed in between my thighs, if I weren’t so focused on the moment, I’d most certainly be embarrassed by the wetness that begins to drip down my thighs.

Grinding myself slightly, I tug at his top, pulling it over his head quickly before throwing it behind me. His lips attach to my neck and I can feel him sucking gently, determined to leave a mark. A moan escapes my lips before I can stop myself, sparking a fire in his eyes as he grips my hips, guiding them to roll over his clothed length even harder.

His fingers move with haste as he works at the knot holding the flimsy bralette together, prying it off my body the moment the ties become loose. Grabbing his jaw, I pull his face back to mine, kissing him with burning desire as his hands move to palm my breasts. Our tongues entwine as his fingers brush over my nipple, releasing a soft gasp from me, to which he takes advantage. Dipping his head to suck and bite marks into my chest, I grab his hair tugging softly with every moan that he extracts from my body.

I can hear a groan escape his mouth, to which he covers it up quickly by dragging his tongue over my nipple. His hands playing with the other so as not to focus all his attention solely on one. Steve sucks gently, drawing unholy moan after moan from my body as I continue to feel the heat between our bodies.

Tipping my head back and pushing my breasts further into him, I find myself pushing a hand between our bodies. Slipping under his shorts and offering a short squeeze, causing the man to murmur a soft fuck as he continues to play with my nipples. From feeling his length in my hand, I can tell he’s big, bigger than I anticipated and much bigger than I’ve ever had. It scares me equally as much as it excites me.

It’s only when I begin to start delicately stroking up and down, that he pushes me to the side. Throwing me onto the couch gently so that I am laid on my back with him standing over me. As he smiles down at me, I can’t help but find the contrast between his soft smile and the dominance he has just been displaying amusing. A cheeky grin evident on my face.

“Where’s that knife?” He asks, fingers brushing over my throat as he stares down at me.

“Knife?”

“From the pictures.”

Nodding my head towards the countertop, I watch eagerly as he grabs it, clenching my thighs together as my mind drifts to what he is going to do with it. Much to my surprise, he gently pulls my body up so that I’m sat upright, before settling on his knees between my thighs. Pushing the thong to the side, he presses the blunt side of the knife to my heat, trailing it between my folds. When he removes it, it glimmers with the slick that is now definitely dripping onto the couch.

“Lick it.” He raises the knife to my mouth and I brush my tongue against it as directed, immensely turned on by the entire situation. “You’re such a good girl.”

If his words didn’t make me moan, I do when his tongue makes contact with my clit. Head falling back as I close my eyes, focused only on the pleasure he is giving me. Despite not having my eyes open, I am acutely aware of Steve reaching up to my throat and holding the sharp side of the knife directly on my neck. Pushing it gently, though not so much to draw blood.

“God, you’re such a good girl.”

He switches between sucking and licking my clit, his free hand moving to push two fingers into me ever so slowly. The sounds are inherently sinful, the way he’s lapping up everything I can offer him is downright filthy and yet I feel like I’m in heaven. He devours me as though I’m his last meal, moaning against me, vibrations adding to the already exhilarating pleasure I’m experiencing. God, if this is what he can do with his tongue, there was no reason for him to buy a vibrator.

As he continues to push his fingers into me at an unruly pace, his tongue swirls circles against my clit, pushing me further and further to the edge. My stomach feels tighter and I try to close my thighs, though he reacts by pushing the knife closer to my throat, reminding me of its presence.

“Holy fuck.” I whisper, coil within me snapping and my legs twitching as he continues to lick up anything I have left.

With a pleased grin, he pulls himself away from me, rising to his feet and even in my post orgasm daze, I drop to my knees. Hurriedly pulling his shorts down to his ankles, I grab his erection with both hands. Mouth falling open in shock as I wrap both my hands around him.

“Jesus Christ.” My voice is almost silent yet Steve still hears me, chuckling at my words.

“You gonna be able to handle it?” He asks and I waste no time in nodding, gazing up at him, eyes filled with lust. “Yeah you are.”

In an attempt to calm my nerves, I hesitantly lick from the tip to the base, mouth watering as I hear Steve’s breaths become shakier. Wrapping my lips around the tip, I slowly begin to bob my head up and down, unable to take the whole thing but trying my hardest. I allow myself to coat his member with my spit, using my hands to stroke whatever I can’t fit in my mouth. He bucks his hips involuntarily with a deep guttural moan and I can’t help but gag, eyes watering as he hits the back of my throat.

Pulling back with a gasp for air, I continue to stroke him with one hand, the other reaching for his balls. As I lean in to go for round two with my mouth, he grabs my hair softly, pulling me to look up at him. With mascara streaks running down my and saliva falling from one corner of my mouth, Steve smirks.

“I’d let you do that forever if I wasn’t so desperate to feel you.”

He helps me up, pushing my body over the countertop, before pulling the thong off me completely. I spread my legs for him, allowing him to see the effect he has on me, he circles my clit with one finger as his other hand grips his length. The tip smacking against me as he nervously rubs it over my hole.

“Steve please, I want you so bad.” I beg, feeling myself clenching around nothing as he teases me.

“Fuck you’re perfect.” He cautiously pushes the tip into me, my hands gripping the wood of the countertop at the stretch and I squeal slightly, from a mixture of pleasure and pain. “My perfect girl.”

He continues to push himself inside of me for what feels like an eternity, just when I think I’ve taken him all, he pushes further. I’ll admit it has been a while and with Steve’s size, the stretch burns and yet I want nothing more than to feel him inside of me forever.

The gentleman he is, he stills once completely sheathed within me, awaiting confirmation from me that he is able to move.

“Steve please fuck me now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice and instantly pulls himself out, almost completely before slamming back into me. Balls slapping against my clit in a way that teases me as he practically rips me in half. One hand pushes on my back, firmly holding me down against the counter as he continues to pound into me. The other grips my hip, knife still in hand though neither of us seem to pay any attention to it.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you.” He states between moans, slamming into me at an almost brutal pace.

I’m able to slip one of my hands between the wooden surface and my body, bringing it to the space between my legs and gently teasing my clit, resulting in a string of profanities falling from my lips. Steve notices this and bats my hand away, taking over himself. His fingers are like magic and combined with the way he is ramming himself into me, I can feel myself on the brink of cumming once again.

“Oh my god, Steve I’m so close.”

Upon hearing this, he pulls my body upright, peppering kisses along my shoulders and the nape of my neck as he continues to drill into me at the same rough pace. Within a matter of seconds, I find vision spotting as I fall over the edge. Thighs sticky and wet with the remnants of my second orgasm. Steve allows me to fall back onto the countertop, continuing his assault on my vagina and the overstimulation drives me crazy. I’m a complete moaning mess and by the time he stills with a soft grunt, I have even more tears in my eyes.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He murmurs, pulling out of me gently and pressing yet another kiss to my neck.

Turning around to face him, he has a lazy fucked out grin on his face and I can’t help but feel proud that I’m the reason for that smile. I smile at the thought, and at the feeling of his cum beginning to spill out of me and down my legs. Steve takes my hands in his and flops back onto the couch, wrapping his arms around me as I rest my head on his chest.

“You know I actually came here hoping I would work up the courage to ask you on a date but this was so much better.” He admits, nuzzling his nose into my hair.

“Wow so I missed out on a date?” I tease, hugging into him even tighter.

“I mean, we can always break into Scoops and go have that date now.” He suggests, voice soft as though he’s afraid I will reject him.

“That sounds perfect.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fluff #strangers things imagine #Steve Harrington x fem #Steve Harrington fanfiction #stranger things au #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #Steve harrington x female reader smut

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twistmusings · 4 months ago

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Character Analysis of the Twisted Wonderland Dorm Rooms - Octavinelle

Dorm Room Character Analysis Series

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul actually has a lot of little touches in his room that are very cute. For one thing, his general decor lends itself to the idea that Azul likes the finer things in life. Truthfully, all of the dorm rooms are have shown a lot of attention to the character's actual stylistic preferences in the Guest room and Azul is no exception.

Rather than having a bedside table, Azul has a second safe in his room in addition to the large one he has in his office. This is interesting because, well, that means that there's things that are likely more important to him than the contracts he kept in his vault in his office. I'm certainly curious about what sort of thing Azul would choose to keep in a personal vault - are they especially important contracts to him? Money? Or, perhaps, just other things that are especially special to him. I know the kneejerk reaction for a lot of folks is to be that it's where he stores his coin collection, however...

Azul actually displays his coin collection in a frame! He has them mounted in velvet.

Several of the other characters have featured a feather pen and ink bottles in their room, however a cute touch is that Azul's pen is actually fish bones. This is a cute little insight into what they may use for pens underneath the Coral Sea. Or, perhaps, Azul just has a flare for the dramatic.

Azul has a trunk and several potion bottles on top of his wardrobe. The fact that Azul has these out in the open on top of the trunk likely means that all of the items in the trunk were potion bottles, and then because they were stored up so high, he placed the ones he commonly uses on top, rather than storing them back inside the trunk. Azul is otherwise very organized, so it would make logical sense that if he's not putting these away, they're likely out because he knows he's going to reach for them again.

This is honestly probably my favorite detail in Azul's room because these are terrariums. Azul never mentions having any interest in Terrariums, but Jade does, meaning that these are likely terrariums that Jade made for Azul and gave him as gifts. This is actually really cute, because though the Leech twins joke about leaving Azul as soon as he becomes boring in canon, this shows that Jade at the very least thinks of Azul in his free time when he's not at work or around Azul by obligation, enough to have given him gifts. it's also worth noting that Azul has these displayed, which means that they aren't a gift that's rotting away in a drawer or stowed away somewhere. It's also worth mentioning that the ones that have plants in them are alive, which requires at least some level of attention to them in order to maintain the environment inside. Little things like this show how much the characters actually care about each other.

Azul's hidden Mickey is next to his shelf of terrariums.

Jade Leech

Jade is an interesting case because he, like Ruggie and Trey, doesn't actually have much displayed in his room in terms of decoration. That being said, what he does have displayed are his terrariums. Jade being the sole member of the Mountain Lover's club, it seems like he probably spends a lot of his free time out and tending to either his plants in the greenhouse or actually hiking.

This isn't likely directly because of Jade, however it seems like Octavinelle as a whole have coat hangers and hat racks that are themed around octopi, which is possibly the cutest thing I've ever seen.

Jade is notably organized - he has his shoes on his shoe rack, his hat and scarf hung up, and his bed made. This will become more important when you see Floyd's half of the room.

There is also this object. While I'm not certain and it doesn't seem to be mentioned in any of Jade's vignettes outright, I suspect this may be a jewelry box. It's a little hard to tell in comparison to a lot of the items in the student rooms, though, so if anyone has any additional input, please let me know! Neither of the other two from Octavinelle have an object like this one in their rooms.

Jade's Hidden Mickey is on one of his terrariums.

Fun fact, Jade AND Floyd both have errors in their Night 2 versions of their backgrounds, as they are both missing the hidden Mickey.

Floyd Leech

Oh, Floyd, sweetheart, you live like this?

Jokes aside, Floyd actually has some things of note! While his side of his and Jade's room (canonically they share a room) is messy, he's messy in a different fashion than someone like Leona. Where Leona doesn't hang his clothes - Floyd does. Or at the very least, it seems like someone does it for him. (Given the haphazard hanging of his jacket, though, I would guess that he probably does it himself.) What does that tell us? Well, more than likely, Floyd gets small bursts of motivation to clean certain aspects of his room, and then grows bored and gives them up. To be quite honest, for those who know of or experience it, Floyd's organization style reminds me a lot of how ADHD folks tend to struggle with forming sustainable cleaning habits, as it's often easier to put something down rather than to put it away.

Snacks, literally everywhere. Floyd has snacks on his desk as well as on the shelf above his bed. It would seem that Floyd has a serious sweet-tooth, given the amount of sweets that we see in his room.

For the life of me, I could not tell you if this is a trash bin or not, but if it is, it looks like whatever Floyd put in there has teeth marks on it.

Another thing of note about Floyd's room, while there's a lot of things that are strewn around, there's not actually all that much trash around. He has a single empty container on his desk, but otherwise his floors are clean, and it seems like things that need to end up disposed are. Again, whether or not that's Jade intervening because they share a room, it's hard to say.

Floyd's hidden Mickey is on his pillow.

As was mentioned in Jade's section, both Floyd and Jade's Night 2 versions of their backgrounds are missing the hidden Mickey. Floyd's background has an additional error however!

Floyd's box of cookies is actually missing the box in his Night 2 artwork. If I had to guess, since I have experience with digital art, more than likely, the layer containing these details was accidentally deleted when making the edits for the Night 2 cards, resulting in these things disappearing when the background were published. It's a minor error, all things considered, and gave me a little giggle because now it just looks like Floyd has haunted cookies floating in his room.

Addendum

Excellent catch by @twistedminutia that Azul's fish bone pen is likely in reference to the pen Ariel signs her contract with in the original movie! (To be quite honest, and I know this is ironic given that this blog has such a heavy octavinelle theming, but the little mermaid was my least favorite Disney movie growing up, so I never would have caught this myself!)

#not writing;;#twisted wonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #mod azul #character analysis;;#note for the addendum: given how much I like the Octavinelle trio I know this is ironic but I cannot stand Ariel #Like unironically cannot stand her and how they personified her in the movie #Love Ursula though #Then again I watched the little mermaid AFTER I played Kingdom Hearts 2 so #It may well be that I was soured because of the Sora Ariel duet #Though Ursula crawling through the sand in that one cutscene is simultaneously my sleep paralysis demon and also iconic as fuck

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after-witch · 1 year ago

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Horrorfest: I'm a Mouse, Duh [Yandere TPOF!Ren (Fox) x Reader]

Title: I'm a Mouse, Duh [Yandere TPOF!Ren (Fox) x Reader]

Synopsis: Fox wants you in just the right costume for his party.

For Horrorfest request:

Fox making his darling try on different "sexy" Halloween costumes

Word Count: 1291

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, a bit of humiliation/degradation, descriptions of previous injuries including eye gouging, questionable taste in Halloween costumes

You didn’t know you could feel anything like shame anymore, but there it was, red-hot, covering your cheeks, not unlike a thin, sticky layer of latex that you couldn’t peel off yourself.

Speaking of--

“Turn around,” Fox murmurs, idly swirling his glass of champagne while you swiftly obey his words.

You turn ever so slowly, because you know what’s what he wants to see. You imagine you’re a doll in a music box, sans music and static ballerina pose, spinning slowly enough to let him get a look at his newest handiwork.

The skin-tight latex cat costume does wonders in keeping your movements slow as well, but you try to ignore that part and stay in the music box metaphorical fantasy.

He sighs lowly--your stomach roils--and shakes his head.

“No, not quite right.”

He gives you another once-over, and you must be frowning, because he continues in a casually reassuring tone. “Not that you don’t look lovely, but it’s not what I want for tonight.” What he wants, in this case, is unclear. You’ve already tried on 3 different costumes, and he didn’t care for any of them.

He gestures with his free hand at your hand, and you dutifully remove the latex cat ears (that matched your outfit, of course) and hand them over.

He sets them on the table and beckons you over.You eagerly scamper over, turning away from him; you really did need help removing the thin layer of latex. At least he does it swiftly, though you feel a veneer of sweat on your back when he begins to peel it away. He continues pulling it down until you lift each of your legs, stepping out of the tight concoction with a visible sigh of relief.

There’s a warm chuckle behind you, and you shiver when you feel his nails lightly raking down your back.

When he stands and makes his way over to the long costume rack that one of his employees brought in, you follow. He thumbs through them, humming, pulling a few out now and then.

He pulls out a black and white lacy concoction, something that looks like the type of clothing people world in olden days. A big felt sword hangs off the flimsy top and there’s a large tricorn hat attached to the hanger, and it takes you a moment to realize what the costume is meant to be.

A pirate.

He smiles, but you don’t. Your empty eye socket suddenly aches and your lip trembles. Which just makes him grin a little.

“Too on the nose, huh?” He taps his finger above your eye patch, a neutral black cloth for now. Fox said he wanted to pick your costume before they went about choosing what prosthetic or patch to give you.

You suppose he wants you to care that he’s taking the time to find you the right costume, that he wants you to be appreciative that he’s putting so much effort into it. And when you suppose what he wants, you do your best to fulfill it. That’s how you’ve made it this far.

So you look closer every time you think he might be choosing a costume and you try (pirate mistake notwithstanding) to mimic his reactions. This one is cute, mm-hmm. That one won’t do, nuh-uh.

Maybe you would be appreciative, maybe even a bit excited about the idea of getting to dress up on Halloween, if you weren’t dreading tonight. You were going to attend a Halloween party with him. Thrown by him. Populated by the guests he chose.

You weren’t putting on a show (that fear had already been cooingly whisked away, the moment you broke down into seizure-like sobs at the thought) but you would be… on display.

Like a pet. No, no, that’s not entirely right, is it? You are a pet. You’ve got the collar to prove it.

What would the people at the party be like? As bad as the ones who watched the show? Worse, because they were there in person and not just through a screen? Maybe some of them would be the same… would any of them recognize you? Would they hurt you? Would Fox let them hurt you? What if--

“Ah! This one!” He says, pulling you out of your heavy thoughts. There’s a glint of excitement in his voice that makes the tension in your stomach ease off.

When he gets excited like this, it’s a good sign. Usually it’s related to finding out that you like some of the same things as him (you genuinely enjoyed, at least as much as you could, curling up on a sofa and watching anime with him) or you surprising him in a way that pleases him.

Sometimes he seems younger when he gets like this, more carefree. There’s a pang of envy when that happens, but you never let it last too long.

He pulls out the costume he’s chosen and shoves it into your waiting, slightly trembling, arms. You don’t even have time to really see what he chose.

“Quick now.” He flashes a muted grin. “The guests will arrive soon enough. Don’t want to be late for your first party.”

You don’t waste time getting dressed. The end result, when you stand up and let him zip up the back of the costume, is cuter than you expected. It’s a mouse costume, a short little gray number with a black tail hanging off the edge. The costume covers your ass enough that as long as you don’t bend over, you should be fine.

(You try not to think of ways that Fox might make you bend over in front of others. But then, he didn’t like it much when others were around you, so maybe he didn’t want you to show off more than necessary? The questions are really too difficult to consider for long.)

The finishing touch is a big pair of cutesy gray mouse ears that he tenderly places on your head. It’s the type of costume that you might have worn on a night out with friends, before. Though you’d have worn something else underneath, and you’d definitely still have two eyes.

Still. It’s better than the tight catsuit.

And you look... cute. If you ignore the missing eye, and the scars on your face. And the cauterized nail wounds dotting your body. And the cross-cross of scars, old and new, lining your arms and legs.

These are all things you have gradually forced yourself to ignore, so yes, you can put them aside and appreciate the way that the mouse ears frame your face or the way that the costume is made from nice materials.

You can ignore the hungry gaze of Fox standing behind you, keeping his eyes on your own as you stare at your reflection.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, standing behind you and looking at the finished product through your reflection. In the mirror, you see him place a kiss on your neck. Your body recognizes what will happen before your brain does, because your shoulder tenses even before he bites your skin harshly, lapping at the blood he leaves behind.

“We can leave the patch as-is,” he says. You’re too busy staring at your reflection to answer. Maybe he takes it for being pouty, because he continues. “Unless you want one of your prosthetics tonight?”

How nice of him to ask, you think, and your heart feels sick when you realize the thought came without a trace of sarcasm. You’re really fucked up, huh?

You shake your head and give a little smile, looking at him in the mirror.

“No,” you say, voice meeker than you meant it to be. “Whatever you think looks best, sir.”

He smiles, just a little. An intimate smile, a you’re-being-good smile, the kind you think (you hope) he reserves just for moments like this. And then he places a tender kiss on your bite wound. Bits of red stick to his lips and he licks them away, sighing low and almost husky.

You know this sound, these gestures, the way his breath quickens and comes out of his nose. You feel two hands grope your ass and you squeak, like the mouse you might as well be.

“I suppose it won’t hurt if we’re a little late… it is my party after all.”

#yandere ren hana #ren hana x reader #the price of flesh #tpof #tpof ren #yandere #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest

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a-very-good-girl · 1 year ago

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His Kitten

My hands tremble slightly when I pull the brand new dark grey tail from its box. I stroke the soft fur gently and admire the quality of my new toy. Our new toy I correct myself as I weigh the metal plug in my hand. It’s heavier than I expected. Sir asked me to really think it through before I made my choice. Like he didn’t know I would pick the large one. With a smile I reach for my brush. I’m determined to make the tail look as pretty as possible for our premiere. I can’t wait to see the look on my owner's face when he sees it.

I look at the time again. He should be home soon and my heart flutters at the thought of his intoxicating scent, his warm body, and his irresistible voice. That dark rumble of his, sometimes soft as a summer breeze against my naked skin, and sometimes just as hard as the stone floor I so often kneel on. He holds the key to my arousal in his voice, and he knows it all too well.

When the tail has the desired fluffy shape I put a small amount of lube on the tip of the plug and walk over to the end of my bed. If Sir was here he would have me suck the plug until it was dripping and then use it as my only lube. But without his direct orders I do as I want and I moan silently when I bend over the bed. The large mirror is right behind me and when I look over my shoulder I can see my naked body presented in an inviting pose. I spread my legs even further and catch a glimpse of my bare pussy—newly shaved in the shower—just for him. Then I hold the plug to my tight hole and add pressure. It starts its heavenly penetration but all I see is the grey tail. The plug is indeed large and I gasp as it makes it way deeper inside me. I’m always too eager and Sir’s calming words echo in my ears as I try to control the urge to just take a deep breath and bury it deep. Sir likes when I’m in pain but he doesn’t want me injured. The stretch when my little hole welcomes the plug feels amazing, and I moan loudly as the flare spreads me open. With a final push the plug sinks into place and I can for the first time see how cute I look wearing my new long tail. I arch my back and grab both my cheeks. Sir will be very pleased with me, I know he will. He always reminds me of how well he knows me, but he often seems to forget that I know him equally well. The sound from my phone pulls me from my thoughts and the display announces a text from the one I’m impatiently awaiting. Home in just a few min.

I can barely breathe normally, my excitement is making my heart race and with a stomach full of butterflies I kneel obediently in the middle of our living room. My dark hair spills over my shoulders and I run my hands up and down my thighs. I’m unable to stop my fingers from tracing the soft skin on my inner thighs all the way to the center of my body. I run the tip of my fingers over my most sensitive parts and a stream of heat travels from my core as I circle my clit. I allow my fingers to press on my little button and I wish for the thousandth time today that Sir would walk through the door. Beside me lies the tail, and when I tug it I’m instantly reminded of the large plug that keeps the tail in place.

Suddenly I finally hear him opening the door and I instantly place my hands on my thighs again. I feel so playful—yet obedient—and I’m even more excited to see his reaction than I could imagine. From the humming sounds he lets out as he puts his jacket on the hanger I can tell he’s in a good mood. Hard footsteps are soon replaced with softer footsteps as he takes off his shoes. I hold my breath as he enters the living room and he stops the second he sees me on the floor. I meet his gaze and my heart takes a leap in my chest. They say that your eyes are the mirror to your soul, yet I have never before met a man with such expressive eyes. Proudness and love shines in Sir’s dark eyes as he looks back at me. I can see how he takes in my naked body, and when his gaze falls on my new tail a grin spreads on his face. For a second I recognize the desire raging in him but then he regains control of himself and slowly walks up to me. His strong hand lands on my head and he caresses my hair. With just a small stroke he’s letting me know that my initiativ is highly appreciated. Then he walks over to the couch and I crawl behind him on all fours. My tail follows me and I feel it with every move I make. Sir sits down on his favorite spot and I take my place at his feet. With a smile he leans forward and catches my chin between his thumb and index finger. When he locks his gaze with mine I melt in his warm stare.

”Who is my favorite pet?”

”I am, Sir” I smile back at him.

He strokes my chin with the back of his hand and the loving gesture makes my heart flutter again.

”How did I get so lucky, kitten? You are all I ever dreamed of.”

A small blush spreads over my cheeks and I rest my head against his palm. I love his praise but sometimes he makes me speechless. Sir pats on the couch—a clear invitation for me that I’m allowed to sit next to him and I quickly advance. I struggle to control my need to touch him, to kiss him deeply and let my hunger for his touch consume me. The desire to pathetically beg for his touch must be tamed, yet I know how much he enjoys seeing me lose the battle against my needs. With no small amount of effort I manage to sit still beside him even if my whole body is screaming for attention. My pussy is so wet I’m afraid I will leave marks on the fabric under me. For a second I see a shadow of cruelty in my owner’s eyes, but then he reaches for my arm.

”Come here, kitten,” he then says as he pulls me up in his lap. ”I crave your kisses.”

Without blinking I straddle him, sink down on his noticeable bulge, and the satisfaction I feel when he lets out a quiet moan is enormous. I know I’m his greatest weakness but I admire his self control. The plug in my ass and the long tail makes me both needy and playful. I lean in as if I was going to kiss him but instead I let our noses touch. Very gently I rub the tip of my nose against his and when he places his hands on my waist I continue. With my nose I greet him; I rub my nose along the bridge of his nose, over his bearded cheeks, and around his lips. I stroke his face with mine, as a real cat would do, and breathe in the scent I love. His masculine scent mixed with the fresh scent of his cologne. It always makes me think of how he kissed me under the lemon tree in the botanical garden, and he smells so good I want to lick him.

”You really are my playful kitten today,” Sir murmurs approvingly. Then he tugs hard on my tail and I moan loudly as the plug presses at the opening. I reward him with licking his lips and he tugs again. A soft purr escapes me and I playfully bite his lower lip. I can feel his hard cock through his jeans and the thought of being filled in both holes makes me dizzy with need. I grind impatiently on his lap, silently telling him what I want. What I need.

”I was planning to ask you about your day but I think you have other plans, don’t you kitten?” Sir growls as he digs his fingers into the soft skin of my hips. I nod and he tugs again. My moans fill the room. ”Is this what makes my cute little pet behave like she’s in heat?” He can’t hide the grin on his face as I eagerly nod again. His fingers find their way to my clit and when he feels how swollen I already am he lets a finger glide over my wetness. I can’t stop myself from grinding hard at his hand and finally he lets one of his fingers slip inside me. I know how tight I must be with the large plug pressing in my ass, and when Sir withdraws his finger it’s coated in my needs. Without a word he puts his finger in my mouth and I suck it clean. The taste of my arousal is something he always wants to share and this time is no exception. His lips crash against mine and his tongue demands access to my mouth. Soon I have my arms around his neck and we get lost in the feeling of each other. When I finally gasp for air all I can think of is his cock buried in me.

”Tell me what you want, kitten. Use your words.” As if he can read my mind he reaches between my thighs again. My neediness hits an almost unbearable level as he teasingly strokes my clit and I whimper ”I want your cock, Sir,” before he pushes his fingers inside me again.

”I can feel that. Fuck! You’re so wet, kitten.” Sir continues to plunge his fingers deep into my pussy and I greedily clench around them. Then he suddenly lets out a raw growl and lifts me up on my knees so he can reach the zipper in his jeans. With a few quick moves he pulls his pants halfway down his thighs and his hard cock springs free from its denim prison. Then he grabs my face with both hands. ”Let me see your eyes when you take my cock. Show me exactly how good it feels.” His voice is hoarse and the storm raging in his eyes tells me he needs me just as much as I need him. Without using my hands I position myself over the top of his cock. The plug makes me very tight and when I sit down on him I instinctively hold my breath. Sir’s feral growl reveals he feels it too. His girth stretches me more than ever and I whimper against his lips. Then I feel his hands on my hips and with his superior strength he pushes me down, forcing his full length inside me, and I cry out as his cock fills me completely.

A hard bite on my lip pulls my focus to his eyes again. I stare into his almost black eyes and sense more than feel how he wraps the tail around his hand. Then he caresses my hips again and the plug follows his moves. Without his command I start moving my body and soon I find a pace that makes me see stars. He knows exactly when to tug at my tail and the change in pressure makes me dig my nails into his shoulders, and it draws dark curses from his throat. Deep in my core builds the fire I long to release. I have waited all day to unleash my desire together with my owner, and now we are finally burning together. Only our joined bodies and the sounds we make exist in this world.

I know he craves my pleasure just as much as he craves my pain, but today I don’t even have to beg for my climax. With a tight grip around my waist he demands an orgasm from me, and when I finally feel it exploding in my core, I hear the unmistakable growl of his approaching climax. He spills himself deep in me and I milk every drop from him as I clench around his cock over and over again. Then I collapse in his embrace, dizzy from my intense relief. Sir wraps his arms around my back, as he so often does, and holds me tight to his chest. I bury my nose at the crook of his neck and breathe in the scent of him. He alone has the power to push me far beyond what I thought was possible, but at the same time he is all I need to find peace in my soul. When my breathing slows down he kisses me gently. Then he looks me deep in the eyes and gives my cheek a tender caress.

”Now, will you tell me all about your day, kitten?”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

#avgg #avgg writes #sub/dom #sub/slave #bd/sm kink #bd/sm lifestyle #bdsmlife #bdsmrelationship #bdsmplay #bdsmkink

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pointelleprincess · 10 months ago

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My bedroom is a sacred place now ♡

tips for a more coquette bedroom ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 loads of tapered candles especially hand painted or decorated with ribbon ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

𝜗𝜚 place doilies everywhere it adds so much character to the room

𝜗𝜚 add lace to shelves for that extra touch

𝜗𝜚 dainty floral sheets

𝜗𝜚 start a collection of vintage plush hangers for your wardrobe

𝜗𝜚 get a vanity preferably one with some vintage charm

𝜗𝜚 vintage floral or heart shaped picture frames with black and white photos of loved ones or aesthetic icons

𝜗𝜚 use vintage baskets or hat boxes for extra storage

𝜗𝜚 start a small collection of charming dolls and or stuffed animals

𝜗𝜚 adorn your windows with lace curtains

𝜗𝜚 tie ribbon and lace absolutely anywhere and everywhere you can

𝜗𝜚 display your favorite clothing pieces

𝜗𝜚 put lots of love into your space ₊˚⊹♡

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venusinsilk · 2 months ago

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Things I'm looking for at the flea market this morning-

-shelves!!! Any storage solutions, in particular things that are wall mounted. Wall mounted cabinets would be cool too. I maxed out all the closet space in this apartment and I still have boxes all over the floor that need to be unpacked.

-furniture made of bamboo or rattan. Chairs and small console tables, small and lightweight. My space is limited and I have to be able to move my furniture easily.

-beautiful statement shelf to place in front of my large north-facing window for displaying my plants. This will be the first thing ppl see when they enter my space.

-rugs, especially a big one for my front room. I have a vision of having a memory foam pad underneath a pretty rug, which is comfortable enough to lay on, maybe with a friend 🤫 and I want to have floor pillows to pair with the low coffee table that belonged to my grandmother in this space. For dining and hanging out on the floor, but make it super comfy! I love rugs with tassels and bright colors. There is a rug dealer at this flea market but his prices are usually more than $250, pls put cheap price tag vibes in the air for me if you're reading this!

-plant hangers, macrame and/or beaded

-a bakers rack or a kitchen island that can double as a dining table. This one is a long shot, but I'd rather buy this used than search for something on wayfair or ikea. I've already been looking online and I really don't like anything I've found so far. I need to expand my kitchen into the adjacent dining room if I ever hope to take baking orders again, and I'd love to have a functional workspace in this apartment. I need a good work bench, and being able to clear it off and seat guests there would be a bonus. I love hosting and I hope I can find something that works for my space...

I made this list to hold myself accountable. I am NOT to purchase any smalls (decorative glassware) or clothes!!!! I do not need more clothes!! Mutuals if you see me update this with clothes pls wag a finger at me in shame!

#this flea market goes so crazy. it's so huge and there are so many vendors #i'm never able to see the whole market!

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picturesofthegoneworlds · 1 year ago

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Be it from the services of her silver tongue or her presentation, Laudna is not out of place on the deck - welcomed aboard, with her skeleton rendered in driftwood and encrusted with barnacles.

The veil is back.

It shrouds her face and billows with the same breath as the tattered ship-sails.

Imogen wasn’t certain that she had seen it. Her eyesight bein’ a little dodgy at the best of times-

Fog rolls

Laudna’s chest pulled open by her own hand, ribs piercing from out of fabric and skin-

That wasn’t unusual. Not now, anyway. The blood-wet snout and teeth bared from torn and blistered flesh and gums, the jaw that would open on two hinges from a central axis as a guttural howl leaking with gore emerged along with the leap of the hound-

Except no hound came.

Laudna holds the captain’s hand between both her own,

encourages it into the newly opened cavity,

Imogen squints through the fog for any sight of a dim-green glow-

the veil is back.

What if Laudna’s hands weren’t moving of their own dictation? Crushing rock and crumpling robot-skull-

She isn’t certain, but the captain’s hand is on her heart, marrow ghostly and cursed.

Laudna should be free.

Imogen knows the taste of her own jealousy.

A store room - a cramped old pantry - provisions that had rotted so long ago that they had solidified all over again, like pearls from sand in oyster shells or however it works, cartilage rendered into putrid gemstone and shelves made from wood so soft that maybe at one point if daylight were to ever have made it into the hull the seeds of the bloated apples and oranges could have grown between the decomposing woodgrain.

Their room for the night, for the upcoming nights.

Imogen lays out her bedroll on the floor, attempts to make space to spread Laudna’s next to it but the stack of hemp sacks labelled as oats have turned to bricks.

It’s not like they’re not used to sharing a single bed.

It had only been so many nights, but Laudna's routine had changed now that she got her new attire - that old routine being one of not getting undressed for bed. Now she hangs her dress when she can, over the back of a chair or sometimes using the immovable rod as a sort of travelling coat-hanger - ‘wouldn’t want any creases’ - despite the still present ichor and the filth they find themselves in and how either of them could still prestidigitate the fabrics clean again. Maybe it’s ‘cause they changed themselves on that same day Laudna bought the dress, just before it, maybe there was intention to the new presentation beyond retail therapy. New routine. Maybe. A shift in self-worth. It’s only been a handful of nights. Imogen isn’t sure. She can’t hear Laudna's thoughts anymore. And some things it feels too soon to ask, she doesn’t want to stumble Laudna with the call out of her behaviours-

but she can lie back, head propped on hands weaved and cradling behind her head as Laudna undresses, can watch as she goes about her new-nightly routine.

Pate and his birdhouse get allocated to a clearing on a higher shelf, the belts of red ribbon that have replaced the ones given to her to outfit her as her death sentence are unravelled, ceremoniously rolled again and placed with scissors neatly aligned to the side of the wooden house, and the bunting of bones displayed like a necklace on a velvet cushion of an old cigar box.

Naked, she tip-toes around the floor, between Imogen's outstretched legs and their belongings.

Laudna's skin is cloudy like the fog that surrounds the islands.

What Imogen saw through it-

Imogen’s eyes fixate on the scar that runs down in front of Laudna’s sternum, the one Otohan had left the Hells to stitch, the one Laudna unthreads the seams from each time she calls forth her hound-

The captain’s hand on her heart.

Does it hurt?

Laudna pauses her movements, ready to turn and crouch at her backpack to retrieve her nightgown.

I’m sorry?

When ya…when you tear your chest open and that.

Imogen sits up from the bedroll, her spine leaning against the wall sodden with algae.

Laudna visibly considers her answer.

It doesn’t physically damage me, it’s all magic and illusion I suppose.

But when you’re like that, it’s real, right? I’ve felt it before. You’re occupyin’ that space.

Yes, but it abides by different rules and logic. That’s the fun of it; I get to play around with my ideas and surroundings.

You’re real good at that.

Thank you.

Laudna carries on, shimmying dress over her shoulders and pinning the many sections of hair that have fallen stray back into the bun.

The lace that wraps from neck to corset obfuscates it somewhat -the imprint of the noose that is, same for the mark from Otohan, same as Imogen's scars under the sheer fabric of her sleeves that now spill over her chest. Covered, but not hidden anymore.

They have bared themselves to each other a couple of times by now.

Imogen isn’t certain, but she has to know.

Could you feel it- did you feel it when he touched your heart?

Laudna pauses again. This time her look is calculated - calculating, assessing Imogen on the floor in front of her. Part of Imogen wants to take the circlet off, get back into an old routine of her own.

Imogen knows the taste of her own jealousy. She wonders if Laudna could discern the palette on her lips.

The shadows in the room shift, and there are plenty of them, the only light given by a dull but unnaturally white glow from a brass lantern hanging in the middle of the ceiling.

The shadows stain the fabric of Laudna's nightgown first, shredding into tatters and peeling off into a gauzy swatch that drapes over her head.

Her arms and legs and spine extend, the joints bending unnaturally, backwards and crooked and almost arachnid, the bones lancing through the fog-grey flesh, and the bone is indeed bleached and brittle like driftwood, barnacles and limpets where there had before been sprouting shoots and flowers, her body creaks and groans (or maybe it’s the ship) as she leans down towards Imogen, crouches over and up to her, her form almost as hulking as the most Imogen had seen it as such, when they had jumped down from the tower ruins together and Imogen woke to Laudna snarling and braced over her.

Imogen sinks back down to the floor, Laudna's arms (she thinks it’s her arms) bracketing either side of her head.

Through the veil she sees the rows of teeth, the formations on her forehead and high cheekbones looking like fossils left in rocks

her eyes holding Imogen still in place.

And maybe it isn’t her arms either side of her head, but ruptured bones of petrified wood, splintering out in all directions as talons that are made of the shrapnel of razor-clam shells cut through the linen covering Laudna’s chest, flaying flesh and severing sinew made of seaweed, her ribcage pulling apart (again, Imogen knew she had seen it), except this time each rib seems to elongate, definitely does so, piercing into the bedroll around Imogen and locking her in her own cage, sinking further and pinning fabric through and into the floorboards.

Her chest held open, it drips with briny ichor that Imogen can smell the salt of, eyes transfixed on the slow undulation of all of her innards exposed, lungs that branch off into seaweed and intestines tangled like the eels displayed curled up in shallow cases at the market

Her heart a clump of coral, deep red and its surface a complex fractal pattern, arms of sea urchins reaching across it for arteries.

It’s yours, if you want to hold it.

If Imogen takes long enough, Laudna will transform back; Imogen's hand imbedded in its grip permanent, the stretched and skewed rules of magic thrown and bastardised as muscle and bone and organ materialise around her wrist, Imogen able to influence the beat of blood around Laudna's body by the clench of a fist-

The captain’s hand in all of its platinum rings, greedy, blindly driven. Delilah and her hold, a boiling heartbeat, controlling. Imogen wants to be better, wants the feel of coral against her palm.

I want to…

Then I do too.

Imogen lifts the veil.

Barnacles scrape at the swell of her cheek, sharp teeth nick her tongue and Laudna’s mouth tastes like saltwater, blends with the iron of her own blood, the acid of her jealousy.

Imogen's fingers cover the rough surface of coral, sink into the spaces between it and seaweed-lungs. It swells in her hand, kicks, beats. A minute must be nearing over. It beats again, and Laudna holds her, pinned under her cage of ribs.

Her eyes flutter and she lets out a dripping melodious chuckle.

I can feel it.

#Imodna #Imogen Temult #Laudna #Critical Role #Drabble #Fanfic #Emma writes #Body horror

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juliahope · 5 months ago

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Hanger Display Boxes are cardboard boxes designed to showcase products directly on retail hooks or slotted walls. Custom hanger boxes typically have a built-in hanger attachment on the top and a clear window on one side, allowing customers to see the #product without needing to take it down. These wall display boxes are ideal for small, lightweight items that benefit from hanging displays, like jewelry, accessories, toys, or bath products.

#hanger display boxes #custom printed hanger boxes #display boxes #custom packaging #custom boxes #packaging #printing

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ominist · 1 year ago

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BITTER REWARD

--- Part 2: Reaping ✧

Pairings- Dark!Sebastian Sallow x F!Auror!Reader x Auror!Ominis Gaunt Summary- Sebastian escapes from Azkaban after 8 years. The Ministry were on high alert and searching for the escaped fugitive. Newspapers and flyers spread with the danger that could come within encounter. Sebastian Sallow’s face was plastered all over public and communal areas of the Ministry. After working for the Ministry for years, MC and Ominis Gaunt were cut off from the search. The Ministry’s numbers as of late were short due to ongoing violent events and kidnappings. Both aurors were denied any involvement due to conflict of interest. They were secretly put under a watchful eye in case the fugitive decided to reach out to one of his old friends. After 2 weeks, the search proved fruitless. It was almost as if the man had disappeared into thin air. Due to lack of resources, the search and security lessened when it came to Sallow. This was, quote, only a temporary decision until something new came up.This was exactly what Sebastian Sallow was hoping for. After a watchful eye and a calculated risk, he bids his time before cornering you. As painful as it was, waiting a little longer would prove to be rewarding. Warnings- 18+, language, trauma, depression, angst, aged up characters, explicit content later on. Word Count- 7,695 Words Author’s Notes- Warnings, finally some Seb, a lot of angst, and a cliff hanger. Also, thank you for reading my work! ❤

Writing Masterlist -- Part 1: Sowing -- Part 3: Mourning

With Sebastian’s disappearance, temporary demotion, and the emotional chaos from her social life..

MC’s ongoing frustrations and stress started to leak into her daily life. Exploding in the smallest and most obvious ways. It started with ripping the assignments waiting on her desk, slamming boxes of pending paperwork, spilling ink all over the floor..

But of course, these outbursts would not last long. Almost immediately, she would stop and feel embarrassed by the petty display of lack of control. She repaired and cleaned everything until it was back to its previous state.

The reality was this. It was either running rampant with her magic (which threatened to spill over) or these minor micro-aggressions in her lonely office. It was taking too much energy to keep her ancient magic under control. It only got more chaotic and spontaneous whenever she was in distress.

In addition, every other Auror in the department decided to leave her to her own devices. Correction, they decided to avoid her all together. Whenever she emerged from her office everyone either gave her a pitiful smile or turned their eyes away from her. She was deeply bothered by the change in the atmosphere. And irked by the revelation that the current situation provided. This was only a job. The what you-once-thought-were-close-colleagues stemmed from self-interest and forced respect. Your presence was replaceable. And it was very apparent at the present.

The new found solitude gave her the chance to do something she had been keeping in the back of her mind. No one seemed to pay attention as she emerged from the Archive part of the building holding a stack of folders.

Within a few hours, she had exhausted the amount of times she re-read Sebastian’s case in her office. She went over Sebastian’s old records as they rested on her lap. Confident that she would be left alone, her boots were kicked up on the desk as she lounged in her chair. If no one paid her attention while she sorted through these embarrassing tasks, no one would become alerted by an unauthorized review. MC was technically still an Auror. Besides, the current groups of officers searching for Sebastian already had copies of the old records and were too busy creating new records from their investigations. Her eyes moved over the contents repeatedly for hours, almost wanting to conjure the hidden truth and details not recorded.

After 3 days of picking up entry level work provided by different departments, MC reluctantly accepted the current state of things and decided to take a break. She had been acting stubborn at first. She hoped that they would see her determination and eventually let her return to her position. But after engaging in such dull and motivation killing work, she could not continue for the rest of the week. MC dropped off the last of the completed assignments and returned Sebastian’s records to their proper place without raising anyone’s attention.

Then she found herself at home, unable to finds ways to occupy her time productively. Time away from the Ministry only made her chaotic emotions worse. MC started to realize how much she depended on her hefty investigations and feeling overworked. She needed the fast and critical pace that came with being an Auror. It stopped her from overthinking, and most importantly it stopped her from being alone with herself.

Since she had started to work, she had not raided poacher camps or pursued dark wizards in the hamlets near Hogwarts. In a way, being an Auror provided a little bit of everything she used to cope in the past.

Now being in her apartment, she started to experience her first signs of paranoia. When she stepped out of her apartment, she swore she was being followed. It did not take her long to notice this. She had initially made it part of her routine to take a walk in the mornings. Whenever the rain paused and the heavy fog appeared, she found herself stopping by the local shops for groceries, picking up fresh flowers, or walking through the more populated areas of the city. The cold air and noisy streets had given her the distraction she desperately needed.

The first time she caught sight of a shadow passing behind her, it had heightened her instincts. MC had been walking by some store windows, passing some glass lamps. A dark silhouette passed closely behind her as she leaned towards the window. Almost immediately, her posture tensed and straightened. Her eyes roamed over the reflection on the window with her hand ready in her pocket. But the figure disappeared around the corner without being seen. This happened again the next day, but this time she caught sight of someone wearing a bowl hat peaking around the corner of the street.

After those 2 encounters, she returned to closing herself in her apartment. She realized that she had somehow obtained an easy pattern to track in the mornings. She removed these morning walks from her new schedule.

Being enclosed in her apartment made he wish for a change around her. After a couple of hours of deep cleaning, organizing, and sorting through rubbish- she almost did not recognize her home. With her new found time, she even found herself sitting by the window and catching up with the letters on her desk. She spent many afternoons reading one of the many books from her collection. Majority of the books had been recommended by Anne at some point. She could not remember the last time she sat down and had time to read something of choice. Every now and then she would peer through the window after feeling that creeping sensation on her skin. She was more than convinced that she was being watched. Whenever she felt exposed, she would draw the curtains and close her windows.

Even if it had only been a couple of days, she felt the most alone she ever felt. She had not gotten a moment of relief. And to add to the ongoing theatrics, she could not stop thinking about Sebastian and his whereabouts.

Sebastian’s news had put a stop to her ongoing progress with finding Anne’s cure. Now that she was more than convinced that she was being followed, she could not risk being caught in the middle of something suspicious. She was thankful that she had been smart enough not to keep her research and illegal books in her apartment in case her home was searched. She was also having a hard time focusing on one task for too long. MC had all the time of the world now with her inconsistent work. She tried to find ways to occupy herself productively.

She could not bring herself to get rid of the shadow that appeared the morning she received the news. MC had grown more tense, easily upset, and on edge. It was easy to admit that she never really let got of the guilt from being an accomplice during Sebastian’s imprisonment. And she believed it would never happen, especially now.

Sebastian had escaped early on a Sunday morning and it was now Friday. Almost a whole week had passed. Ominis continued to check in with MC, even if it was briefly. Even with his full work schedule, he persisted stopping by to check on MC even when it was after hours. If he noticed her growing restlessness, he did not mention it.

She knew his continuous visits were his way of showing that he still cared about her. But she could never be truly honest about her current turmoil. She was more than aware that Ominis was also going through his own troubling thoughts. The circles under his eyes had grown darker, and his skin started to look paler than usual. He was sleep deprived, exhausted, and even malnourished. But Ominis still watched out for her even when they had grown apart and detached in the recent months. He still checked on her every day, regardless of how platonic their friendship had become once again.

By Monday, she received a promising letter from both Natsai Onai and Poppy Sweeting. Poppy was always traveling and never stayed in one place for too long. She was engaged to their former classmate Garreth Weasley. Natty had moved and was now a professor at Uagadou. Between the two, Natty stopped by London more often to see MC. The former Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were so busy as it was, but she appreciated their concern and support shown in their letters. They had both agreed to come visit London the upcoming weekend to her relief. MC could finally take a break from feeling like a caged animal.

During one of Ominis’ visits, he revealed something important for the MC. It was a little bit after 6pm on Wednesday. Ominis sat in the usual chair with the usual cup of tea between his fingers. He stopped by her home for a bit, already having plans for the rest of the night he had told her.

“I have something to share with you. But before I tell you, you need to promise me that you will not be alarmed,” Ominis told her. The he quickly added,“And that you will not do something to get yourself in trouble.”

The way he added the last part made her smile in his direction. He was always so cautious when he knew something would upset her.

“You know, I appreciate you trying. But you and I know better,” MC told him honestly.

Ominis brushed his hand through his hair and nodded once. With his hands crossed over the other, he appeared apprehensive. He exhaled before continuing.

“The department had appointed some officers to watch us,” he stated, sounding frustrated. Then he added in slow syllables, “Without our knowledge or consent, for the matter.”

She breathed a loud sigh of relief at his words. And there it was, she could finally put her doubts about her own sanity to rest. If she was right, this explained the uneasy and cautious expressions that many of her peers wore last week. MC let out a small laugh and shook her head in disbelief.

“The Ministry never fails to amaze me with their strategic methods. Let alone, their denial about the current number of able bodied officers.”

Ominis gave her a small smile, agreeing with her words. “That was my initial response. But if they are watching us.. That could only mean that they truly believe that our old friend will be making an appearance.”

MC’s smile faded and she turned to look out the window. Ominis had chosen not to mention his name. And it further proved that he was still being careful. He was trying to cause the least amount of pain as possible. She was unsure if it was intended for her benefit or for his own.

His name is Sebastian.

Her eyes looked into the dark street. The lamplight flickered twice and a stray cat crossed the street. The longer she looked out the street, the more noticeable the feeling became. She got up from her seat and approached her window. She drew the curtains in the hopes of removing the feeling of exposure.

Her hands held the curtain for a moment longer than needed. Her eyes focused on the pattern between her fingers. The room became quiet.

“Do you..” MC said quietly, without turning to face Ominis. “Do you think he has gone away to start a new life?”

Ominis was unable to answer. He should have expected this topic to be brought up eventually. In reality, he dreaded talking about it with MC. The bitter feeling of the past was something he wished to get over as the years passed. He was not sure what Sebastian Sallow would be doing with his new found freedom. And as of the present, the Ministry didn’t either. Ominis preferred it this way. As long as Sebastian was not found, he could rest easy.

It had come to his surprise that Sebastian had not reached out to any of his close friends in the first week of his escape. Not even Anne.

But the again, Sebastian was smart. If he intended to survive, he could not give in to his reckless nature.

Ominis had somehow convinced himself that he no longer knew Sebastian.

He believed he was the only one to wear the guilt on his shoulders for what he had done. He deserved to lose sleep, his appetite, his sense of character, and peace.

And the most important of all.. He did not deserve to have MC.

Ominis knew that MC and Sebastian had been close during their 5th year. He often times believed that he and MC would never be as close as Sebastian she she were back then.

Ominis had almost proposed to move in with MC for the time being until things were safer. He hated to leave her during such dire times.

But he had not.

Ominis shifted in his seat, unable to give her an answer that reflected the truth about his feelings.

“I.. I do not know,” he confessed to her. His voice was suddenly fatigued. “I would like to believe that he somehow managed to escape the border and settled somewhere remotely liberating.”

MC stepped away from the window, her expression unreadable. She did not return to her seat across from Ominis. She continued to stand idly near the wall. Her hands were hidden in her cardigan.

Ominis turned his head towards MC’s direction before continuing. “MC believe me when I say, if Sebastian does not want to be caught, then he will not be.”

MC shifted in place, her thoughts pouring over her like a rapid current. It was hard to believe that Sebastian would just escape the country and find a lovely home of some sort by the ocean somewhere in the world. She could not image him willing to settle down and find peace.

He would not be able to do that as long as he sought closure. He would make his most important mission to find answers.

She did not understand why Ominis was so set on lying and giving such empty answers. He could not possibly believe what he was telling her. She was starting to feel impatient with him.

“Is someone possibly helping him hide?” MC asked out loud, somewhat ignoring Ominis’ previous response. She walked into the kitchen, her eyes settling on the dish rack as she thought hard.

“I do not think it matters. It isn’t either of us, so I doubt it.”

MC was now set on putting away the dishes. With her back turned, she occupied her hands with pushing the plates into the cupboards. The dishes were put away harshly, the sound of the dishes being pushed on top of each other echoed through the apartment.

“I hope his whereabouts are not keeping you from your sleep, MC-”

MC finally turned towards Ominis, unable to stop her irritation from raining down on him. With a glass in her hand, she let her bottled discontentment interrupt him.

“He has not forgiven us , Ominis,” her words were sharp. She inhaled and continued without sparing another moment of caution. “If you truly believe he ran off into the sunset with his new found freedom, then you are being delusional.”

She had almost broken the glass in her hand. She winced at the sound of her words as soon as she had said them. At that moment, she was unable to hide the pain and desolation she had felt for the past 8 years. MC watched Ominis with her unsettling gaze. Her jaw was tight and she felt as if she would cry out of frustration.

The air became unbreathable from the pressure in the room. The silence between them was daunting. Ominis’ expression finally broke from his shallow facade. His eyes stung from the truth in her words. Her tone dripped with culpability.

His only response was getting up from his chair, letting is scrape against the wooden floor. His expression resembled a drowned man. His lips moved, and to MC’s dismay he did not give her the answer she deserved.

“I should go check on Anne.”

Her eyes only followed Ominis as he stepped out of her apartment without another word.

… *… * …

It was getting closer to the 2 week mark since Sebastian’s escape. And instead of feeling more at ease that there was no news about his whereabouts, she felt more restless. Her nightmares had started to take her sleep again. After the last meeting she had with Ominis, she could not bear any more wasted nights. She started to take sips of sleeping draught before bed.

On the following Saturday morning, MC received an email correspondence from the head of the Auror Department. To her surprise, the letter contained a series of updates.

Sebastian’s man hunt had been put to a stop until further notice. The Department was facing a a shortage of numbers, leading to a strain in their security and resources for higher priority cases. This is a temporary decision until further reconsideration.

MC was scheduled to return to her previous position on Monday morning.

MC held the letter in her hands under the sunlight of her window, the tension in her shoulders lessening as the minutes passed. She re-read the letter until she was able to process the contents.

MC was beyond relieved to finally have her job back. She still was not used to being home so much. The letter did not mention whether she would continue to be observed and followed. But then again, she was not supposed to be aware in the first place.

With the hopes of celebrating her return, she was preparing to meet with her friends later on that evening. Natty and Poppy agreed to meet at one the pubs closer to the water’s edge. It was only a couple of minutes away from her home. She knew that Natty enjoyed the black friar bridge view. That was mainly the reason why this pub was one of her favorites.

With a couple of minutes to spare before she headed out, MC sat down to read through some of the letters waiting on her desk. The letters seemed to have increased now that she had time to respond.

She received a letter from her mother with news of her trip. Her parents were visiting America for a couple of weeks. Her father had decided to visit Boston in the hopes of reconciling with his mother. Her father had been raised in an orphanage before attending Hogwarts. At the age of 41, he recently found more information about his biological parents. It was a whole ordeal alone, one that she was sadly being updated from the sidelines. Her once extremely demanding position as an Auror had been the reason she denied the invitation to join them. She was aware of how important this visit was for her father. But she had no choice at the time the trip was planned. But now? She wished she had taken the opportunity to join them.

MC wrote a whole hearted response to her mother’s letter and pulled Anne’s letter from the small pile. She moved the candle light closer to the page to read Anne’s small script.

My dearest MC,

Thank you for that new cushion set! It made my new home feel more homely. I am adjusting to my home much better as of late. It is much better than the room I was staying in previously. The loneliness was hard to adjust to at first, but now I am able to look forward to every day.

I absolutely love working for Madam Ryder’s shop. I wish you could see how friendly and welcoming the people are here. It reminds me a little of Feldcroft. You need to come visit me soon.

I was asked to go fetch potion ingredients by the shore this week. I found it to be a dream. It reminded me a little of your outdoor excursions and adventures. I can see why you enjoyed them so much when you were younger.

Working at the shop part time is enough at the moment. The hours are quite flexible and I am able to fit in time for my studies. I am beyond grateful for Professor Sharp’s patience and willingness to continue to tutor me. I have you to thank for that.

Between working and focusing on my studies, I think that I want a change of pace.

Living in this small town by the ocean the past couple of years has me feeling like a senior. Think about it, I live in a small house by the ocean. I wake every morning to tea and books. I water my new found garden and feed my cats before heading out every morning. Maybe this life was more fitting for the person I was before.

I visited Solomon’s house yesterday. I think I am feeling a little nostalgic. When I stopped by, I made it my mission to fix and replace the dead plants in the garden. It made me sad to see how vacant and unattended the home was.

Staying in the house let me reflect on what I want out of life.

I want to open my own store in town. But I also find myself wanting to move to London. I miss you and Ominis so much, I want to spend more time with the both of you. I think it would give me the clarity I need.

Wishing you well and love always,

Anne S.

She finished reading Anne’s letter with a sense of emptiness. She missed Anne terribly.

But she could not overlook the implications that came with becoming close once more.

Could she put aside her conflicting emotions and invite Anne to stay with her for a while? She had done the same with Ominis last year, so what is stopping her from offering her the same? Would having her around more cause more tension or diffuse it? Would having her around cause a bigger rift between them?

MC left Anne’s letter open on her desk. She was unable to finish her response. She had only gotten to the formalities. Anne’s letter was left unfolded and on top of the other letters on her desk.She got up from her seat and grabbed her coat on her way to the door.

For the first time in the past 2 weeks, she felt a sense of reprieve. She was leaving her apartment for the first time in a while. She was on her way to meet with her two friends for some drinks. She was no longer demoted from her hard earned Ministry position. Her life was slowly returning back to normal.

MC walked into the gloomy street and hugged her coat tighter. She could not pass the opportunity to smell the crisp and smokey air once more. She walked for the first time without feeling paranoid. Her boots walked over the cobblestone, sometimes echoing louder in certain streets. She passed the familiar shops as they prepared to close early.

When she finally reached the planned destination, MC paused by the door and inhaled before entering. She walked into the pub, staying close to the wall and away from the crowd.

She made her way to her friends and was instantly embraced by two pair of arms.

Poppy shared about her ongoing wedding planning and constant traveling. She was the happiest she ever felt. Poppy had Natsai and MC promise to be her bridesmaids and that she would not accept any excuses. Natty admitted that she had a new love interest. She explained how she had gone on a couple of dates and how it felt promising so far. She did not share the individual’s name or too many details. She rather not share too much in case it ended up not working out. Which, this had happened before. MC had witnessed her friend’s repeated rise and fall out of love in the recent years. The two witches respected Natty’s decision to save her from the possible pain once more.

Poppy turned to MC, her eyes soft as she asked, “What about you, Y/N? Do you have any pending admirers you’re wanting to tell us about?”

MC gave her a small smile, but it did not quite reach her eyes. Her attention turned to the drink between her fingers as she shook her head in denial. She could see Natty’s expression from the side of her vision. Natty was one of the few people she had shared about her temporary relationship with Ominis.

“I wish I could go on about a new love interest,” MC finally told Poppy. She sounded a little regretful.

“That is okay, do not worry about that. If you ever find yourself interested in meeting new people, just let me know,” Poppy told her with a genuine smile. “Garreth has so many family members and friends. I could have you meet them sometime if you like.”

MC felt touched by Poppy’s thoughtfulness. The fact that Poppy thought she was agreeable enough to introduce her to new friends and her family to be, made her heart hurt. She thanked Poppy and took a long sip from her drink. She could taste the ice melting, dulling the affect. She looked down the counter and waved the bartended down for another drink.

Their conversation went on for the longest with no breaks or awkward silences. Poppy seemed to have kept in touch with a lot of their past classmates. With Garreth’s influence, she had a pretty good recount for almost every single Hogwarts alumni. The occupations she mentioned ranged from curse breakers, quidditch players, portraitists, apparition examiners, and astronomers. MC listened attentively and realized that many ended up working for the Ministry.

Poppy had gone on for so long without stopping that she had to take a breather. She lifted her drink to her lips right before excusing herself to the lavatory. MC grinned as she watched Poppy walk off with a tipsy edge to her step.

"She is still a lightweight,” she stated as she turned to look at Natty.

Her friend nodded in response with a blush on her cheeks. “You know Poppy. Some things just never change. I see that you’re a little giddy as well Y/N.”

MC raised her glass towards Natty as she grinned widely. She did not deny her friend’s statement. Natty raised her own glass and muttered cheers.

“How are you holding up?” Natty asked quietly. MC had been expecting her friend to finally ask her more about the current events now that they were both alone. Before answering, she finished the rest of her drink. The bartender spared her a glance and started to make another drink without being asked.

“I actually got my job back. I got a letter this morning,” she told her, trying to move the subject away from Sebastian all together.

“What a relief! Tell me they apologized as well,” Natty responded, her hand came to rest under her chin as she leaned against the counter. Natty had been kept in the loop with the recent turn of events as MC wallowed in her apartment.

MC shook her head once with a smile playing on her lips. Natty groaned and shook her head with annoyance. She continued to gaze at MC and finally moved on to what she originally intended to ask her.

“What about.. Sebastian?” Natty asked, she was not going to let MC change the subject.

MC sighed in defeat and turned to face the friend next to her. She licked her lips and reached for the drink that came floating her way. She brought the drink to her lips as she contemplated. Under the influence of alcohol, she felt more willing to open up to her best friend.

“I have no clue what is going on. All I know is that the Ministry have stopped searching for him. The letter gave little details about the progress.”

“He hasn’t tried to contact you, has he?” Natty’s voice dropped to whisper. She was watching MC’s expressions, ready to catch her if she lied.

MC shook her head in no. She felt her throat tighten, she did look forward to talking about him in the current state she was in. “I doubt he would. Why would he? I am the bloody reason why his life was ruined.”

Natty said MC’s name and stopped her from continuing. Her eyes were serious.

“You cannot possibly believe you are at fault Y/N. Are you forgetting that the decision was not yours to make? You were not alone during all of that. And I am sure Ominis would not agree with you.”

MC shook her head again at Natty’s response. Her grip on the glass tightened as she started to feel the shadow fall over her once more. The shadow was peeking its ugly head as she felt the remorse and guilt build up inside of her.

“It’s not that easy Natty..” She responded slowly. “I wish I could just turn it off. But I just..”

MC tapped her temple with her index finger in frustration. “I think I am just delirious. My mental state has not been the best lately.”

“Tell me what is not easy, please.”

“I am having a hard time sleeping. It usually wouldn’t be such a bad thing, but..” MC paused before continuing. She could see Natty’s unwavering care and loyalty. MC breathed out before admitting something she had not told anyone.

“I still see Professor Fig,” MC confessed to her friend. “I see him in my sleep. I wonder what he would tell me now with all of this going on.” A bitter laugh left her lips.

Everything seemed to be pouring out of her as she watched Natty’s expression. She swallowed hard and felt tears forming in her eyes. Natty was concerned now.

“You told me your nightmares had stopped MC.”

“I- I do not know how to undo my wrong doings Natty. I cannot move on,” she breathed.

Natty’s hand reached out and took MC’s drink from her. She stopped her friend from drinking any further. Her expression was full of understanding and concern. Natty moved the glass far from reach and brought her hand to touch her friend’s.

“I don’t want you burdening yourself with unnecessary guilt. Professor Fig was not your fault. And what happened with Sebastian, that is not your fault to take either Y/N. He faced the consequences to his actions. Believe me, my friend. You deserve to live your life without these burdens and learn to forgive yourself.”

“Forgive myself?” MC repeated in a small voice. She failed to notice the tears were falling down her cheeks.

Natty tapped her hand against hers in affirmation. Her gaze was intense as she answered.

“Forgive yourself for not learning how to look after yourself. I know you will learn to let go of these irrational thoughts and stop blaming every single misfortune on yourself. I just hope it is soon.”

Natty’s hand tightened over MC’s, her gaze not moving away from her.

“I will be alright Natty,” she told her as she wiped away her cheeks with the back of her hand. Poppy was approaching them once more with a big grin.”I promise.”

Their outing went on for a couple of hours. The mood lightened up as the three talked about other matters that were not trifling to MC’s sanity. MC felt more grateful for her friends as the night went on. Poppy was the closest to being drunk between the 3 of them. She watched as Poppy hugged her sides in laughter as she shook her head at Natty. Natty was smiling and continued to talk for Poopy’s amusement. MC’s smile was unwavering as she looked at her two friends with sad appreciation.

By the time the 3 witches were walking out of the bar, it had gotten late.

Poppy and Natty insisted on walking MC all the way to her apartment. MC denied their request and told them that her apartment was not far. With bright and loud exclamations, they compromised and walked her down the street.

With their final goodbyes and loud giggles, MC walked in the direction of her apartment. She passed a couple of bright windows, her mind distracted by the night’s events. She was busy thinking about Poppy was traveling all over the country and saving all kinds of creatures. She did not notice an unknown figure following behind her.

The person’s face was hidden under a heavy black cloak. The figure followed her at a distance, but he seemed to be closing the distance as MC reached the street she lived in.

MC eventually felt the crawling sensation of being followed. She involuntarily moved her shoulders into a shrug, wanting to brush it off. Was it real? Or was she merely living the side affected of being slightly intoxicated? She did not want to turn around to look out of fear.

Her throat suddenly felt dry as she saw her apartment building in the distance. There was not a single soul in sight. Most of the windows in her street were dark. She slowed her pace and thought hard on what she should do next. Normally, she would not feel so flustered and hesitant. But she did not have to think long when she purposely stalled in front of a shop. The windows had been recently cleaned and polished. She looked into the glass, waiting for the reflection to catch the light from the lamp post as she walked.

She caught sight of the figure in the reflection. It was a tall man. She could not make out his build, he had a long cloak and dark boots. She did not manage to stare long enough to gather more details for her advantage.

That was when she knew she could not go home. Instead, she kept walking down the street. Her shoulders stiffened and her back straightened with a new profound objective.

She gripped the wand in her pocket and let her features settle in displeasure.

She would make sure that she is no longer followed once and for all.

… *… * …

Sebastian waited for 2 weeks. The longer he waited, the more it felt like a game.

With the constant use of polyjuice potion, he moved around the city freely. He made it part of his day to disguise himself as a different person. Whether it was a middle aged wizard or a fish selling vendor, he occupied most of his time blending in with the city inhabitants. This was the first time he had visited London. It felt large and advanced compared to his hamlet.

Sebastian had stopped by Feldcroft the same night he escaped. He did not know what he had expected, but it had left him feeling hollow and empty. It was completely empty and unoccupied. He had found his uncle’s grave, and to his vexation he could not find Anne’s. He walked around the town, noticing how many new homes and shops had been built since he had been away. He had only roamed around the town for less than an hour before he was gone. His visit to Feldcroft had lead him to London immediately.

He was not aware of how heavily secured the country’s border would be. But by the lack of Aurors roaming around the city looking for him, he felt that he was over estimating the Ministry.

He was dangerous and armed. He almost felt insulted by the amount of officers making an effort to look for him. There were so many times where he knew he could have been easily caught. But there was yet to be an altercation between himself and the Ministry.

They could have fooled him by the amount of headlines he made on almost every morning paper since he escaped.

He was going through the potion supply much faster than he had wanted. But it was crucial to not be caught lacking. He had been more than fortunate to have picked an old potion master’s home to ransack. As much as he wanted to save some of the last phials of the potion, he knew it could not be helped. What other moment would prove more important? Maybe escaping the country all together.

That was, once he executed his plan.

Now, his eyes were unmoving as he noticed movement pass by the window below him. He was peering over the edge from the opposite building. Sebastian had a knee against the hard tiled roof. The rain stopped minutes ago. His clothes were wet but he did not feel the cold. He did not feel the cold anymore. Nothing could compare the nights that he almost freezed to death.

Once Sebastian learned that Ominis and MC were Aurors, he had hoped that they would be ones assigned to hunt him down. But to his trepidation, they had been completely removed from the equation. Instead, Sebastian had been the one to hunt them down.

Ominis never seemed to be anywhere else but at the Ministry. Sebastian somehow always lost sight of his old friend whenever he finished his shift. Ominis would apparate almost immediately, never idling around or letting his guard down. Whenever he caught sight of him to his surprise, he would be leaving MC’s apartment.

Sebastian had settled with watching MC. She never seemed to be at the Ministry for whatever reason. He observed her for a couple of hours a day until he managed to create a pattern from her routine. With the consistent amount of Aurors following her, it had been difficult to even get close. There was always some hidden officer under the disillusionment charm watching her home or trailing behind her when she left her apartment.

He had enjoyed revealing the officers that followed her through out the day. He had even sent trip jinxes in their direction. But every single time he exposed the Aurors, they merely apparated on the spot. Sebastian knew that MC had caught on. She stopped leaving her apartment all together.

The fact that they were carefully watching her confused him. The Ministry seemed to have appointed more officers to watch over MC than they have searching for him. The chance of his capture were growing more dim as the days continued to pass. It felt a little too easy.

He was not sure how far off his opportunity was. But he felt it coming closer.

And surely enough, he finally caught sight of MC leaving her apartment once again.

Her back was towards him as Sebastian looked over the ledge. She was walking alone with her hands in her pockets. The sun had already set and he tried to register the dark shade of colors she was wearing. She wore a long coat that stopped at her knees. Her heeled boots peaked under her slacks. She was wearing some fitted suit, he assumed. Her hair was out of its usual bun, it fell right below her shoulders.

She always had long hair during their time at Hogwarts. He remembered how she loved to wear hand knitted scarves during the colder seasons. They were always a new and interesting color. But as he watched her walk further down the street without hurry, he could not see any of the colorful familiarity in her apparel.

He had to tell himself once more. She is a complete stranger.

She was not the person you once remembered. The MC he knew from Hogwarts would never turn him to the Authorities.

Sebastian gripped the wand between his fingers tightly as he walked. The tiles were soundless under his shoes. He followed her at a distance, waiting for the signs of an officer to appear behind her.

MC walked for almost 20 minutes before reaching her destination. She stopped by a crowded pub near a bridge. The windows were uniquely arched and colorful. It was difficult to even catch a glimpse through the thickly mosaic material. She disappeared into the noisy building without looking over her shoulder. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she was not followed.

With the new found revelation, Sebastian stepped down on to the street. He waited in the shadows, noticing the potion’s affects wearing off.

Sebastian’s eyes looked over the leaving patrons of the pub. The more people left the bar, the more confirmation he received that the building only had one exit. He watched every single individual until they were out of sight. There were no familiar faces to anchor his growing delirium. He was growing more and more agitated as the hours passed.

Then at last, MC was leaving the pub. He could see two others walk out with her. Their voices made his insides tense. He recognized the other 2 witches from school immediately as they insisted on walking her home. But they only walked her to the end of the street before leaving her on her own.

He could not afford to feel an ounce of nervousness or hesitation. He was shaking from the anticipation, his moment has finally come. Sebastian knew better than to believe this would be made easy for him.

When MC finally caught on that she was being followed, she had been walking towards the light of a closing store in the distance. Her body was angled towards that direction, her head unmoving from that direction. She passed her apartment’s door all together. With one abrupt step into the left alley between the apartments, she was fleeing.

With sharp turns and uneven footing, his ears focused on her movement as he kept up.

He moved after her, just barely enough to not to lose sight of her. He heard his own breathing growing louder as he chased after her.

He turned into an isolated alley, no it was still a street. There were countless barrels and boxes that smelled of fish. The buildings to the left stopped where the river started, leaving no outlet. The lamplights closer to the water flickered. When his eyes landed on the empty factory building down on the right, his focus was interrupted by a string of red lights.

MC was huddled behind the barrels and shot curses in his direction. Sebastian deflected every single one and shot his own curses back. His spells hit the wooden obstacles and the sound of wreckage filled the empty alleyway. MC was successful with predicting every single spark and spell headed her way. She never stopped moving, her poise and expertise was apparent in her stance regardless how intoxicated she was.

The spells they shot in each other’s direction never seemed to hit their target. Everything else seemed to catch the force of their anger, leaving chaos everywhere they headed.

Sebastian restrained himself ftom muttering the words he wanted to use for those long minutes. When finally, he felt an electric sensation course through the ground. He ducked quickly and dodged the boxes thrown in his direction. He felt the wave of ancient magic in the air and the static vibrated through his body.

He knew it had only been a matter of time before MC started to use her full abilities. He kept running, dodging, deflecting, until it started to feel endless. He was slowly cornering her down the street. He was tiring her out.

By the time he was painting and sweating, he finally steered her into the area he wanted her in. She was close to the water’s edge near the factory. The amount of energy he spent the past couple of minutes finally made his blood seethe. Enough.

Sebastian then destroyed the few lamp posts, letting the glass fall on to the ground. The only light in the street was reflected in the river. Sebastian removed the ability to see all together and he welcomed the darkness with familiarity.

He vaulted over the obstacles until he caught sight of her running figure. She hurried behind more boxes. The sound of MC’s boots running over the broken glass heightened Sebastian’s awareness.

Sebastian shot the disarming spell at her retreating figure. MC’s pace faltered once she realized she had been disarmed. She turned her head to look in his direction.

By that moment, Sebastian had reached her. She had been milliseconds away from apparating.

Sebastian gripped her wand in his hand and pushed her back with the other. He pressed her against the wall roughly, feeling her body grow panicked and tense under his hold. Her lithe figure struggled under him until she finally met his gaze. She immediately stopped as she looked at him.

Sebastian was finally able to truly see MC for the first time in the past 2 weeks.

Her eyes looked darker then he ever remembered. There were shadows in her eyes, ones she never had when she was younger. Her brow still had that stern angle whenever she was stressed or tense. Her skin was once flush and soft but now he could see areas where her skin looked sunken and sharp.

The ghost that hung over her reminded him of something he knew too well. He had caught sight of it the first time when he had looked in a mirror. A haunted and unsettling wraith that refused to leave you alone. It was almost as if she carried some invisible pain that disabled her from looking truly healthy.

Even after all of this time, he felt his insides turn with the familiarity of her presence.

The longer he looked at her, the more he noticed the ache and longing pile on top of the revenge, hatred, pain, betrayal he already felt.

“Sebastian..”

Her voice was soft and pained. Her eyes did not move away from his and it was getting harder to move.

He rejected the upcoming confusion from muddling his thoughts. His grip on her tightened once more, suddenly growing aware that his hold had loosened.

He once again felt the instinct to hurt her.

✧

#sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #ominis x reader #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hl fanfiction #hl fic #hl fics #fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #bitterreward #ominist

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ladyfranklin · 5 months ago

Note

Grim had no idea why they were doing this. This was stupid! It's not like they were ever going to wear one! They didn't hate wearing masculine clothes. They loved their boots and hoodies and jeans, but they never wore a dress before, and It's not like they're going to walk around in pun like in it. Grim stopped at the front entrance of the seamstress shop, they looked left and they looked right before quickly entering the building. They spun around in awe at all the beautiful dresses in front of them. They stopped in front of a long black lace dress, and gently ran their fingers over the texture.

She would be folding some dresses and putting them into boxes, placing them on piles neatly, when Franklin was around almost no wire hangers could be seen for the quite expensive dresses unless they were that of the discount rack and clothes not made right in the Emporium, those she could care less but her pride and joy were some of the dresses displayed with the headless mannequins, how she enjoyed seeing atleast something wear her hardwork..seeing somebody admire her work made her even prouder..so when somebody dressed in such a strange way wants one or is touching them she'll do almost everything she can to make sure they obtain it, not for them but for the joy it brings her, she could care less of what they feel. "I see you've taken a liking to my newest dress, dear..how marvelous, even for someone like yourself I believe it will be a wonderful fit~" A devilish chuckle escaped her lips "Would you like to try it on?"

#ic #hazbin hotel franklin #grim-the-embodiment-of-death #lady franklin #answered

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fleckcmscott · 8 months ago

Text

Hearth and Home

Summary: During Christmas in Missouri, Arthur learns - and Y/N relearns - how to celebrate with family.

Words: 6,525

Warnings: None

A/N: This little piece is based on a request from @jokerownsmysoul, as well as a continuation of Haunted Heart. Please enjoy this very tardy holiday story! 😂 Thank you to @jokerownsmysoulfor not only making the request, but also beta-ing the first draft. Much appreciation to @sweet-nothings04and @forever-fleck for helping with the intro pic! 💜

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Christmastide hadn't yet crept into Gobler Mall, but it'd slid halfway through the door and propped it open.

A cardboard sleigh advertised Santa's imminent arrival. Kiosks selling Dead Sea Salt body scrubs and smoked cheeses were buried in unopened boxes of merchandise. A man in a green janitor's uniform hung honeycomb snowflakes from the center atrium, his ladder buttressed against the second story's balcony wall.

The anchor store in the east wing had outraced its competitors to win the gold. A twenty-foot tree stood in the center of Hecht's Fineries, plastic branches reaching out to entice customers past cosmetics to a world of sporting goods, toys, and electronics.

Y/N pushed a shopping cart through Today's Woman, the fashion department situated between cookware and shoes. Right on her heels, Arthur browsed with the exuberance of a boy who knew exactly what to write on his Christmas list. Adorable, yes. Contagious and delightful? Certainly. The magic of the season permeated the air whenever he was near.

But if he didn't lose her trail soon, surprising him would be impossible.

They'd brought a small selection of gifts from Gotham. Curry pastes from Siam Market and a Glob's Gourmet Pickles sampler (which had, thankfully, remained intact during their flight). But with limited luggage space, they'd settled on buying most here. A quilted jewelry box appeared a good fit for Ruthie, and with Jason pretending he'd grown out of comic books, they'd chosen a leather baseball glove for him. That left a Mr. Wizard Ecology Kit for Brian and a set of Read-A-Long books on tape for Ashley.

Now they had to settle on what to get Mabel and Ed. And each other.

"I dunno what she likes," Arthur told Y/N, flipping through a circular rack of blouses. Hangers squealed along a metal rod, an atonal chorus. "She dresses more casually than you, but she still looks nice." A one shoulder shrug concluded the observation.

Y/N leaned onto the cart's handle. "A good rule to go by is, if I'd hate it, she'd love it. Wait, that might work." She raised her hand to stop the search. He held out a horizontally striped pullover, black and confident pink illuminated by metallic threads.

A sharp nod answered his knotted brow. "It's definitely her."

As they made their way to the register, a row of mannequin busts caught his gaze. Decked out in festive finery, they wore sweaters thick enough to warm the skinniest soul. He strolled the length of the display, hands clasped at the small of his back, mocha curls brushing his shoulders. He stopped at a crewneck two-thirds of the way down.

Flocked plus signs spanned the shoulders and chest, like a blanket of light snow. Alternating patterns of stars and deer came next, followed by a swathe of rich maroon, the same color as his suit. An odd design, to be sure, but fashionable. The trendiest thing ever to have a chance at moving into Arthur's closet.

When his thin lips pursed, she sidled next to him. Shopping for others didn't mean he couldn't consider himself. "You'd look gorgeous in that," she said.

A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Really?"

"Really." She reached for it with a seductive slowness. "Should we get it now or wait for Santa?"

On a hitched laugh, he stole it from her fingertips and got in line.

~~~~~

Carrying a tray of Morrison's Cafeteria broiled chicken, yellow rice, and two diet cokes, Mabel zigzagged through grey tables to a four-top on the periphery of the food court, where Y/N guarded Radio Shack and Sears bags with the promise not to peek. Though not much of a splurger, she was surprisingly fun to shop with. Admiring window displays, suggesting gifts for Ed and Arthur. Mabel had needed that quality time, another chance to be Big and Little Sis.

Ever a rocket about to lift off, Ashley bounced on a stack chair beside Y/N. The other three children were in school, busy learning their ABCs. Sun cascaded through skylights, brought out honey blonde streaks in the toddler's hair. Y/N took a blue crayon from a RoseArt three-pack and pointed to a spot on a paper placement, an instruction to make the first move in a tic-tac-toe game. In a fit of giggles, the girl clapped and drew an X over the entire grid.

A mix of joy and pensiveness twisted Mabel's heart.

Fed by losing her mom at twenty-four, she braced against the possibility of not being there. New milestones brought happiness - but they also reminded her she'd be fifty when her youngest was a freshman in high school. Nights of four-hour naps and days filled with play and homework took a lot more out of her than motherhood had a decade ago. There were moments exhaustion seeped so deeply into her bones she could've slept standing up.

Once Ashley was sent to a coin-operated carousel ride a couple yards away, Mabel confided to Y/N. "Don't get me wrong. I'd do anything for them. I just thought they'd all be in school by now." She rolled straw paper between thumb and forefinger. "Mom never seemed to get tired. But chasing Ashley around, I feel like I'm ready for the retirement home."

"She has parents who are older and wiser. Who know when they were too strict with the others and not strict enough. Isn't that a good thing?" Y/N tore a final piece of chicken off the bone and touched her toes to Mabel's. "You want to be mom. But you can't be. No one could. Just be yourself. You've always been more than enough, Able Mabel."

Blinking moisture from her eyes, Mabel dipped her chin. Was it middle-aged that'd mellowed Y/N, made her better at comfort rather than immediate investigation? Or had Arthur nurtured her heart by giving it a place to rest? Whatever the cause, it was a welcome change.

With the success of her second marriage, however, maybe she could solve a little, too.

Mabel pushed abandoned grains of rice with her spoon. "I had been looking forward to having more time with Ed."

"Has he gone back to working around the clock?"

"No, no. He's home for dinner every night. But with school projects and potty training and story hour and baseball practice and scouting... Sometimes I forget what it's like to be a wife." A sip of coke as she checked on Ashley. The girl continued to ride in circles. "You love being a wife," Mabel continued. "What's the longest you and Arthur have gone without...you know."

Y/N dabbed at her mouth with the corner of her napkin. After a moment, she gave a small shrug. "A month or two?"

Mabel's jaw hung open. "That's it?" It'd been nearly six for she and Ed. Their last attempt had been cut short by Ruthie's knock on their bedroom door to ask for water - just as her underwire had been unhooked. They'd left a glass on her nightstand every night thereafter. But the spark continued to elude.

"Our lives are quieter," Y/N said, waving the unspoken comparison away. "And you've been married, what, eighteen years? That's much longer than four. Have you talked about this at all with Ed?"

A resigned sigh heaved out of Mabel. "Whenever I start, something comes up."

"It doesn't have to be a long, drawn-out trial. Maybe you can suggest listening to Dr. Sally. Have you heard of her? She's from Gotham and Arthur swears by her. He says she taught him everything he knows. Well, everything he knew before we..." Crimson colored her cheeks, her lips pressed together in a pensive grin. "I don't know if I should tell you, but- Can you keep a secret?"

Mabel grasped the bottom of her chair and hopped it forward. "I love secrets."

"When he and I met, he hadn't been with a woman before. Not like that, anyway."

Nose wrinkled, Mabel tilted her head, her entire face squinting. No, Arthur wasn't her type. But she knew a good man when she met one. And a good looking man when she saw one. "How is that possible?"

Y/N snorted, loud enough to muffle it with the back of her hand. "That was my reaction. It was a lot of pressure; I don't think Arthur realizes that. But I wanted him and loved him and that won out.

"I asked him once if he felt like he'd missed out on anything, having only been with me. He said no, because he's comfortable with me and knows I care about him. Anyway, he gave Dr. Sally full credit for being wonderful. I'm sure the show is syndicated down here."

The twinkle of romance and true love in her sister's eye left Mabel fully convinced. She picked up a crayon and folded the placemat in half. "I'll call the local radio stations."

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Ed and Arthur rode the escalator to the mall's second story. For Ed, it was the only escalator in the county. For Arthur, it was simply a way to get upstairs.

He trailed his brother-in-law past a soap and scented candle shop, an avalanche of perfume pouring out of the place. A silver engraving shop stood to their left, hawking the likes of picture frames, wedding cake serving sets, and doorknobs. They dodged a group of teenagers who should've been in school to arrive at a glass storefront tucked into the corner.

City Drawers' cursive sign was a thrill in pink neon. Muzak masquerading as jazz sounded through the open entrance. Two mannequins stood in the shop's windows, illuminated by spotlights at their feet. One wore a lace bra and panty set, the other a diaphanous camisole with a cowl neck. A hanging sign announced a sale on Maidenform: Buy one, Get one half off.

Arthur chewed his thumbnail.

Donahue's and L. Ballinger carried styles both he and Y/N liked, without intimidating buckles or oddly placed straps. Specialty shops were expensive. Though he'd happily picture her in every display, going to a boutique bordering on Adults Only made shopping an event he had the wrong ticket to, purchased for a week-old show.

With a casualness Arthur envied, Ed crossed the black tile threshold, stealing Arthur's chance to back away and backtrack to Hecht's.

Forcing out a breath, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Made the decision to get over himself and stepped into the welcoming peach interior.

Low lighting gave the shop an air of intrigue, flattered the stitching, the promised silhouette of each item. A woman and high school student discussed the finer points of choosing a first bra. ("You don't want it to stick out too much under your sweaters." "Mom!") Cheeks on fire, he turned away from the conversation meant for mothers and daughters to see a husband and wife modeling satin robes. A cashier dressed like a consummate professional, as if she belonged in Y/N's office, told a woman in a puffy coat that underwear was returnable only if unopened.

Ed closed in on a Christmas display to the left, where a scantily clad mannequin wore a Mrs. Claus mob hat. He grabbed a Santa red negligee and gave it a once over. "Think Mabel'd like this?" he asked, thrusting it towards Arthur.

One glance at the faux fur trimmed neckline and it was clear Y/N would hate it. "She'd love it."

Relief palpable in his easy smile, Ed nodded his thanks and headed to the Famous Fragrances cabinet at the rear of the shop.

Arthur slinked along the wall, passing feather boas and garter belts. (The black one with pale pink roses on the hips was an omen to follow when they returned to Gotham City.) A man on the hunt for a gift that wouldn't be embarrassing to give his wife in front of her family. In front of her nephews and nieces.

Forgotten on a bottom shelf under dust and elbow length gloves, he found his trophy.

Knee high wool socks, lilac and knit in a pointelle pattern akin to lace. He took the pair in his grasp, ran his fingertips from cuff to toe. Every past piece of thrift store wool had been a scouring pad on his skin. These were smooth, buttery. He could imagine her calves wrapped up in these subtle cousins to stockings, a long-awaited present under the tree.

A lyric came to mind, an old song he'd gone too long without hearing. Humming a few bars, he sang in his head. You're the starch in my collar, you're the lace in my shoe...

Arthur hurried to the register, but turned back at the last second and stuck the garter belt under his arm.

He placed the socks on the counter, indicated them with his chin. "Can you put those in a box? With a ribbon on it?" He slid the garter across the surface and leaned forward. "And could you please wrap this separately?"

~~~~~

Snug in the tub, Y/N's eyelids fell shut as she massaged almond shampoo into her scalp. The circling slowed as she exhaled contentment. After cramming two major holidays and the preparations for a third into a mere nine days, she'd savor this second to relax.

The notion twisted the corner of her mouth, a crescent of irony.

That she'd be able to relax here at all would've been laughable before, when shadows had lurked in every corner and out in the open to confront her with what she'd lost. Arthur's compassion and Mabel's letting the subject of their parents alone now allowed Y/N to cope on her own terms.

The adjoining guestroom wasn't simply her father's former office, where she'd been forced to accept the gravity of Henry's diagnosis. It was also a bedroom where she could rest at the end of the day. The bathroom was more than an old examination room, forest green and warm, where her father had crowned his four-year-old daughter with a head mirror and tested her reflexes. It was a place unwind. To cleanse her skin and her heart. Twin threads of past and present that entwined themselves into a semblance of peace.

Locks rinsed and detangled, she swiped her hair back and reached for her wet-dry electric razor.

A light tap tap rapped at the door.

She'd recognize her husband's Excuse Me knock anywhere. But with a full house, doublechecking was safer. "Who is it?"

"It's Arthur."

At her instant invitation, he slid through the door. He'd donned his maroon sweater - as he had every day since she'd told him he'd look gorgeous in it.

She'd been right.

He tucked a stray curl behind his ear and turned towards the toilet. "Sorry, the other bathroom's busy. I'll be quick." He lifted the cover and seat and unzipped his trousers.

Razor perpendicular to her shin, she started to drag it in a straight line to her knee.

It sputtered like an old engine, gaining and losing speed in an attempt to complete its mission. She hit the bottom with the heel of her hand. Flipped the switch off and back on. A pathetic whirr, which slowed to a worrying grind. Then a final, sad stop.

With a huff, she set it on the tub's corner shelf. "I should've charged this before we left."

He shook himself off, cocked his head her way. "Maybe Mabel has one? I can go check."

"You don't have to bother."

Arthur waved her off, insisted it wasn't one at all. He rinsed his hands and stepped out. Grin tight enough to pinch, she scrubbed at her armpits and breasts. Noted a hair by her aerola she'd have to pluck later. The washcloth slid across her stomach, the feminine swell of her abdomen. A quick dip between her legs.

The door swung ajar. Extending his palm with a flourish, Arthur beamed down at her.

Eyes wide, the entirety of her attention shot to the Pink Daisy Gillette.

She hadn't used a wet razor for five years, had banished them from the apartment as soon as he'd agreed to move in. Since he'd asked her to keep them away from him. Sure, if a matter was important, she was a risk taker. Being stubble free for one extra day didn't make the cut.

Y/N reached to take it from him. A bit too fast. "Thank you."

"Actually, I-" He held the forbidden object in front of his chest, twirled it between anxious fingers. "I'd like to do it."

She drew her feet inward. Concern felt silly, an unwelcome heckler. A true intrusion on their intimacy. But given Arthur's history, it made sense. And Dr. Ludlow had agreed keeping razor blades out of the apartment was a good idea.

As if able to read her thoughts, he winced at the floor, a move that felt too close to shame. He spoke with the wounded dignity of the earnest yet disbelieved. "I've been okay for a long time now."

An ache pressed her sternum, for she did indeed believe him. He'd trusted her two years ago, had taken the good with the very, very bad. Shouldn't she be able to trust him? Refrain from making a normal activity - a loving gesture he'd asked for - a crossroads to crisis?

She pushed the worries from her throat with an ahem. "You're right. I'm sorry."

His handsome visage instantly brightened.

Loosening her legs, she wrung out her washcloth. "You're going to get all wet."

"I'll dry."

"What about your pants?"

"They come off."

It was said without guile, but she chuckled, anyway. She retrieved the soap. Worked up a good lather. Smoothed suds down her left leg.

His teeth pressed his lower lip in an eager grin. Perching on the rim of the tub, he pushed his sleeves to his elbows. Bent to pluck her towel from the floor and cover his lap. A secure hold on her heel as he pulled her into position.

Gently, he laid the blade a centimeter below her knee and drew it towards him. A glance of a touch.

"A little harder," she said. "Leg hair is stubborn."

"I don't wanna hurt you."

"You won't." She lay in the curved end of the tub. "How old were you when you started to shave?"

"Fourteen, I think." A soft, closed-mouth laugh. "One night, when Penny and her boyfriend were gone? I stole his razor and shaving cream. I must've used half the can." Short scrapes at the front of Y/N's ankle. "I pressed so hard to get through all the foam, I got a burn. It hurt so bad. My mother asked what was wrong with my face. I told her I'd been out in the sun too long - in February."

Giggling, Y/N tossed her head back. "I'm sure you were very convincing. Speaking of which: I have to convince Mabel to tone it down for Christmas."

"Isn't that why she invited us down here?"

"Yes, but she's going to cook herself to death." At Thanksgiving, Y/N hadn't been able to see the table for all the food. What with their household being too small for a full spread, she and Arthur stuck to a chicken or a couple of turkey breasts. "She likes to make a big dinner for Christmas Eve and a breakfast buffet in the morning."

The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "We could make dinner and breakfast."

Y/N gulped against unbidden images floating to the surface. She hadn't cooked a holiday meal here for eight years, and the last had been an exercise in heartbreak. Mashed up food, saliva on cotton, fear pretending to be revulsion on the faces of her family. Benji's Very Own Christmas Story on TV to tide keep her father calm and an entire bottle of Sanatogen to calm herself.

Yet, the idea was lovely, a reflection of her husband's generosity and kindness. Putting her baggage on him would be ungenerous and unkind. And, just maybe, it could be an opportunity she wouldn't have taken on her own.

She studied the ripples in the water. Concentrated on the pressure of his fingertips on her skin. Glides of metal and aloe. "Stroganoff?"

"That's special for us." Arthur squeezed the subtle half-moon of her calf.

Fuzzy fluttering fleeted through her, at the squeeze and the us. They decided on glazed ham, a dish her mother had made every year. Y/N made a mental note to peruse the oldBetter Homes & Gardens cookbook, the checkered one with the side pocket. "We can make garlic mashed potatoes, too. If we double the recipe, it'll be enough for eight." Broccoli and cheese casserole would serve as a second side, of which Arthur would claim all the crispy corners. Stuffing out of three boxes. All that was left was dessert.

He shook the razor in the bathwater. "Gingerbread's good."

"I'll add a can of whipped cream to the grocery list."

Pecking the arch of her foot, he scooted along the tub's rim. Angled her leg so that her thigh rested on his. The razor whispered a line within an inch of her groin. Puffs of her breath skimmed her flesh. Her tendons tightened. Her knee jerked against his touch.

He knelt beside the tub to gather water in his hands. Slipped them down her legs. He rinsed her again, his expression melting into satisfaction. "You're beautiful," he said, palm sliding to her hip. His green gaze dropped to her mouth, his caress now a firm grip.

Then his lips seized hers.

A startled gasp jolted her.

What Arthur had just done was romantic. Wonderful. An act out of a shared fantasy. If they'd been anywhere else, a delicious weight would've warmed her belly. But that old forest green seeped in at the edges of her mind's eye, pulled the thread of past askew. Now that weight felt like a bowling ball.

She broke off the kiss. Embarrassed whispers between bottled breaths. "Arthur, I-" Her fingers curled, a loose fist by his cheek. "I can't. Not here."

Drops fell from his wrist to her sternum. Charted paths to the notch at the base of her throat. Silence weighed down on her, a whole league's worth of bowling balls.

Swallowing, she raised her eyes to meet his.

When they did, understanding softened his brow. His voice was low, soft. A comfort as powerful as present thread. "It's okay." He retreated to sit on his heels and dry his hands, chestnut waves falling to frame his sculpted cheeks. He stood and bent to peck the top of her head. "You better do that other leg yourself." With that, he turned to leave.

She scrambled to sit up. "Arthur?"

Hand on the doorknob, he looked back at her.

"I love you," she said.

Dimples deepening, he bestowed a shy, radiant smile. "I know."

~~~~~

Mabel placed the Santa mug with the candy cane handle on the windowsill to finish trimming the tree. It was situated by the front window, about a yard from the guestroom. Ed and Jason had disappeared to the basement to search for decorations. One of Ruthie's favorite records played, John Denver and the Muppets' A Christmas Together.

Arthur knelt beside Mabel. On the opposite side of the living room, Y/N and the three youngest children worked on paper snowflakes in the play corner. Few words had passed between them, but the quiet was the kind that belonged to old marrieds who were confident in their choice of each other. Irritated, in love, invested. There'd be no running to the watering hole today.

Nevertheless, Mabel sought to gladden the place. Trimming the tree was one of her favorite rituals, right up there with reading The Night Before Christmas and stuffing stockings. There was no way she'd allow grumpiness to gel into gloom.

Digging through a popcorn tin overflowing with ornaments, each wrapped carefully in a sandwich bag, she said, "Don't be surprised if the munchkins are knocking on your door at five tomorrow."

"That's okay. I don't let Y/N sleep in on Christmas." He hung a stained-glass rocking horse on a middle branch of the artificial tree. "You know, she still has the cookie you made her when you were kids. In the toy oven."

"Does she really?"

"She hangs it up every year."

Mabel retrieved another satin bauble, this one from the Keepsake series of ornaments. "Holidays are happy when friends are together" it declared. The phrase brought a pleasant smile to her face and a quickening to her heart.

Y/N's offer to give her a break by preparing Christmas dinner had been a surprise, a true act of affection Mabel had to accept. But when Y/N had said she was going to prepare everything herself, Arthur's brow furrowed into one thick caterpillar. It was an obvious deviation from how this conversation was supposed to go.

Familiar with how hard it was on him to feel shut out, Mabel rescued Arthur from his skepticism with an invitation to make dessert. Dessert wasn't technically a part of dinner and therefore fair game. Though she'd planned on chocolate and pecan pinwheels, they settled on gingerbread cookies and spent the morning rolling dough and downing coffee.

During their third round of cookie cutting, she'd said, "These are perfect. Have you made them before?"

"Penny had a gingerbread recipe on the wall in the kitchen," he'd said. Another drummer boy emerged from the brown dough. "I can't remember making it, but I know I dropped a bag of flour. She smeared it on our faces and told me, 'Every real cook has flour on his cheeks.'"

Mabel's laugh had dissolved into a wistful sigh. From what Y/N had shared, discussions about his childhood were rare and memories that made him smile even rarer. With a sprinkle of flour on both their noses, they'd put the cookie sheet on the middle oven rack and set the timer.

Miss Piggy's shrill plea for five golden rings cut through the recollection. Eyelid twitching, Mabel straightened the hanger of a Baby's First Christmas ceramic bootie and called to her sister. "Remember when we were kids, and we'd sing along to the radio?"

With a nod, Y/N folded white construction paper into a triangle. "And at the Silver Spur." She sang softly, a relief from the record's caterwauling. "Country road, take me home to the place I belong-"

"Gotham City," Mabel joined in. "Jersey highway."

The twitch teasing Arthur's chin defied the set of his jaw.

"When you put it like that, you almost make it sound romantic," Y/N said.

Just then, Ed thudded into the room, lugging a box of plastic garland. Haphazard leaves and berries sprouted from the cardboard box. Nose buried in an LCD hockey game, Jason followed close behind. Ed asked, "Hey, do you do any Christmas standup shows?"

"One or two at the usual clubs." Arthur stood to toss handfuls of Brite Star tinsel at the tree. "How did the wife get her husband to go to the office party?"

"Jason, put that away and help me with this." Ed plunked the box to the carpet with a groan. "I don't know. How?"

"By telling him, 'yule love it.'" An elongated u for pun's sake.

Stifling a giggle, Mabel shook her head. His jokes hadn't gotten much better, but his ability to make her smile won her over.

"And it always works."Y/N extricated herself from scraps of paper, then checked her watch. "I better start dinner," she said, and excused herself from the room.

In her peripheral vision, Mabel caught Arthur's rapid blink. His posture threatened to deflate like an old tire. "I thought she was doing better this time," he mumbled.

"She is, Arthur. She is." In the manner of a mother assigning a sullen son the most important task - as her own mother had done for her after Y/N had moved out - Mabel patted his shoulder. "If you could find the tree topper, that'd be a big help."

~~~~~

Arms folded across his chest, Arthur braced himself on the doorframe, careful to keep his toes on the foyer side of the floor's transition strip and off the kitchen linoleum.

The side of Y/N's hand smoothed a crimson tablecloth over the oblong dining table. She laid a plastic wreath in the middle, completed the centerpiece with three ivory candles inside the ring. She retrieved eight quilted placemats featuring Christmas geese from the drawer to the left of the stove and pulled cloth napkins from the cupboard to the right. She knew where everything was without asking. As if she'd left here yesterday.

When he'd suggested making dinner, bumming around while Y/N roleplayed 1978 wasn't what he'd had in mind. Standing by like an extra as she measured brown sugar and honey. Loitering while she shoved broccoli in Corning Ware and sprinkled it with cheese.

Given that it didn't quite fit her bustline, the velveteen, emerald halter dress she wore must've been borrowed from Mabel. Y/N's hair was feathered in the usual manner, but with extra body that meant she'd used mousse and a curling iron. Earth tone makeup highlighted her natural prettiness, save for the red stain on her lips. Poinsettias dangled from her ears, a Beauty Boutique original.

She opened a panel cabinet over the sink, then grabbed a stepstool to peek inside. Kitten-heeled foot extended behind her, she retrieved a stack of plates. Her shoe threatened to fall to the floor. When she teetered, he offered to steady her. But she declined. Descended backwards step by step. Put the plates on the counter with a soft but unwavering "I've got it."

His cheek ached from gnawing. Out of respect for her, he hadn't argued in front of her sister. But doing this as a couple - as a family - had been what he'd craved.

So he slid across the linoleum to inspect the plates. Trace his thumb over the cheery holly motif along the edges.

She whisked the dishes away. "I'll light the candles when the food is done," she said, a hitch in her voice she failed to hide.

He half-turned to her. Noted the upward draw of her shoulders, elbows tight at her sides. She set matching tumblers at the two o'clock positions by each plate. He longed to fold the cloth napkins. He longed to take out the cutlery.

He longed to pry.

Lips pressed to a sore line, he recalled their fight when he'd cornered her in the shower, one of the worst arguments they'd ever had. He was loathe to follow that road again. Instead, he grabbed a cooking spoon, stirred the mashed potatoes, and searched for compromise.

Before he could err, she crossed to stand two feet from him. Leaning back against the counter, she gripped the Formica edge with both hands. Her fingers went white.

"When I lived here," she started. "I did all the Christmas decorating and cooking. I loved it. It was a day I could pretend my life was normal, just for an hour or two. Mabel and Ed would bring the kids. We'd drink cocoa and open gifts and have a little fun. Except that last year."

Arthur's stirring slowed, every fiber waiting with want for all of it. All of her.

"I wanted to keep my spirit up or touch my dad in some way." A familiar, familial word she never used. It was always father. "But the harder I tried, the worse it was. He wouldn't eat and wouldn't stop crying. When I washed him, he tried to push me away, but he was too weak - his arms were matchsticks. He must've been scared - he wasn't really with it by then. And he scared Mabel and the kids and..."

Lashing fluttering, she sucked her teeth. "The man who'd nurtured me, who'd loved me, wasn't there anymore. He was possessed by a stranger I didn't want to know. And being here - having to stay in this house - was like trying to live inside a ghost."

In spite of the watery tenor of her voice, she offered Arthur a tremulous smile. "Tonight it doesn't feel so haunted."

An anxious dam gave way, crumbling to flood love through his frame. He understood, then. Doing all this by herself standing here alone, was a ritual to exorcise her past. He reached for her wrist, pulled her to his side with one arm. When she put her head on his shoulder, he dropped the cooking spoon into the goopy mass.

Her palms pressed his back. "I'm happy to be able to share this part of me now."

"Me, too. I mean, I'm happy you shared it with me, too." He buried his face in her hair, let out a huff equal parts support and relief. "I want you to share everything."

Seconds of silence before her lips made a smacking sound on her teeth, and he knew she was grinning.

Ever the woman to push down her feelings a tad too quickly (except for love; thank whatever was listening there was always love), she stepped out his arms, wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. The crockpot let out an air raid warning of a beep.

She took a box of matches from the corner of the windowsill above the sink and pressed it into his palm. Offered a luminous look and invited him into her past. "You light the candles and I'll serve."

~~~~~

Blue wrapping paper with silver bells and holly. Little bears wishing little ones Merry Christmas on pine green. Gold and red foil interweaving in an intricate scroll. The four-by-four space under the tree contained enough color and excitement to fill a North Pole workshop.

Hair tugged into a haphazard ponytail and replete in fuzzy slippers, Mabel dropped onto a chair next to Ed and attempted to squint away her dull headache. The adults had stayed up until 1:00 AM last night, wrapping boxes, drinking cocoa, and carrying on. After dinner, Arthur had nibbled at the gingerbread cookies until he'd had to take two Tums - then surprised everyone by claiming the last slice of Thanksgiving's pumpkin pie.

Clad in their lazy morning best, Arthur and Y/N sat hip to hip in front of the tree. She'd yanked on the lavender socks with the enthusiasm of having found a long-lost treasure. He munched on the macadamia nuts Mabel had thought would make a lame gift, but Y/N had insisted he'd love. The cowhide wallet she'd given him lay open on his lap, the card slot's gold leaf letters reading "A + S" followed by a heart on display. Cheesy. Seemingly out of character for Big Sis. But she glowed whenever she talked about him. She'd gotten starry eyed about Jeff but never glowed.

Once she'd unwrapped Mabel's present to her, she held it in both hands but hesitated to open it. The photo album risked melancholy, but Mabel hoped Y/N would be able to find joy, too.

"Those are photos of us," Mabel assured her. At that, Y/N lifted the front cover. The first was a black and white featuring four year old Y/N cross-legged on the floor, the new baby in her arms, a big grin on her face. "I took the best pictures from all of mom and dad's photo albums. They start from when we were little and go until our visit last year. And there are blank pages for more."

Hugging the album to her chest, Y/N made a promise. "There'll be more. A lot more."

Ruthie helped Ashley put one of her Wuzzles reading cassettes in her Fisher Price tape player, while Ashley patted Ruthie's jewelry box's quilted surface as if it were a cat. Jason let Brian try out his new baseball mitt, and Brian put his feet on the coffee table and flipped through his Experiments in Ecology book.

Ed's morning breath stank of garlic from gourmet pickles. Already wearing his new Casio calculator watch, he flipped through the manual of the AT&T cordless phone, a gift Mabel hoped meant Y/N wanted more phone calls. The Thai script on the curry pastes was something Mabel had never seen before, but Y/N promised that if she could cook with them, anyone could figure it out. ("Just add vegetables and chicken and you're good.")

When Mabel unwrapped the present from her hubby, she recognized the logo as soon as she glimpsed the outline of a petal. She'd kept the box shut. Warmth enveloped her. He'd made her feel beautiful again, in that special way she'd reminisced. In the way that belonged to them.

No matter what she'd confided in the mall, the moments she struggled were worth it. Still there, still hard. But she'd do her best to follow her sister's advice. Make sure to enjoy herself as a mother, a wife, and herself.

And Dr. Sally would remain on-call.

Mabel called Ruthie to her side and spoke in her ear. Loud enough for all to hear but quiet enough to make the girl feel special. "Can you and your brothers set the table?"

Ruthie nodded and skipped her way to the foyer. When the boys remained glued to the sofa, Ed rose with a Come On, Sons gesture. Arthur plucked a candy cane from tree, then plucked Ashley from the carpet and carried her to the kitchen.

Mabel grabbed a purple bow from the carpet, winced as she straightened, a barbel rolling from her forehead to her neck. "The next time you suggest spiking a drink, remind me to say no."

Anchoring herself on the coffee table, Y/N moved to stand. "I'll put on an extra pot of coffee." She gathered strewn wrapping paper and ribbon and crumpled them into a ball. "Make sure you take it easy when Thanksgiving and Christmas roll around."

"Ed's parents are hosting," Mabel said, and waved off her concern. With his sister stuck in Michigan this year, it'd be a smaller gathering. With his big brother around, Ed would regress to being the youngest as soon as he smelled a pie in the oven.

Arms overflowing, they padded towards the kitchen. But they lingered halfway there to bask in the magic of Not Quite Christmas.

Ed worked around the kids, handing them plates, directing where to put them. Arthur retrieved a mixing bowl and frying pan in preparation for cinnamon French Toast, a tradition he'd brought from the Fleck household. While Ed searched the cupboards, Arthur crouched beside Ashley, who laughed at her uncle between rounds of peek-a-boo.

"You made this visit beautiful, Mabel. Mom would be proud of you." Y/N freed up an arm and hugged her at the waist. Spoke the words Mabel had longed to hear for the better part of a decade. The words that made the wheels of self-forgiveness run ten times faster. "After all these years, I think we both found what we've been looking for."

Elated, Mabel dropped the paper to the floor. "I know I have." She seized Y/N about the middle, hard enough to lift her to her toes. "I know we have."

~~~~~

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