#how long would it have to be though? how ridiculous would that be?

[burymagdalene]

Crazy Little Thing Cold Love - S. Reid x Reader

Where the fierce cold brought by their holiday with the team to a ski lodge leads reader and Spencer to seek warmth in more ways than one in their room. Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: Fluff and Smut (18+ pls pls) tags: softdom!Spence, fingersucking, dry humping, lots of messy kissing, fingering, oral (fem receiving), handjob, piv sex, overstimulation (I can’t help it), praise, fluff, of course, they love each other big time! wc: 6.1k. a/n: I genuinely did not think more than 20 people would read my last (first) fic, I was smiling ear to ear and stalked everyone who liked it basically. I hope this isn’t too long. I don’t know what the fic length sweet spot is. Anyway, I was imagining our pretty boy in the Alaska episode 5x21 while writing this. MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMAL

Despite not knowing how to ski, when Spencer invited you to join him and his team for a quick holiday to a ski lodge in Colorado, you nearly melted in excitement. 

You’re over at Spencer’s apartment, bag readily in hand, watching him try to find outfits for this occasion. “Well.. I’m not going to be skiing, so I think regular clothes will be fine, hm?”

“Just bring a couple sweaters or something, that’s what I did. And a swimsuit.” You comment as you lay on your stomach on his bed, scrolling through your phone. Spencer takes his head out of his closet to spin and look at you.

“I didn’t even think about that. Of course. Thank you.” He mumbles and walks to his dresser, unsure if he even has swim trunks here. In his bottom drawer he digs through ridiculous ties and socks he’s forgotten about and begrudgingly finds the only swim trunks he had since highschool.

You scoot your body towards the end of his bed, leaning your head over to look at the way-too-short purple swim trunks he’s holding up with an unmistakably gloom look on his face. “Oh… you have to try those on. Right now.” You request through giggles. 

Spencer stands up slowly placing the trunks in front of the trousers on his legs to see how the size difference from a pre-pubescent Spencer contrasts to now. How badly he’s about to be humiliated in front of his coworkers. 

It’s nothing too horrifying, just blatantly un-Spencer in a way that has you both laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Seeing your boyfriend in short shorts has yet to occur! Regardless, Spencer slips off his slacks and pulls the shorts over his legs, jumping to put pants on for the first time in his life.

Spencer does not look bad. The shorts are too high up, he has probably grown about 6 inches since he picked these out. The tag is still on, he’s never even worn them. They sit nicely fitted on his upper thighs and he has his hands covering his face laughing as he shows you. In an over exaggerated manly voice you laugh out a “do a little spin for me hot stuff” at a groaning Spencer.  

“Babe,” Spencer laughs “I cannot be seen in these. In front of my highly respected team as well. In front of… Morgan.” He begins to take them off and throws them into his duffle bag anyway. 

“Noooo you gotta. Plus it’ll probably be just the two of us in the hot tub or whatever at a time. We’re not all going to be sitting in it together. At least I hope not…” You giggle a bit at the image. You have to give Spencer props though, him a few years ago would’ve cancelled his RSVP or purposefully left the swimsuit at home leaving him to a trip of staying in a random log cabin reading. 

It’s not for a case, so the team does not have access to their own plane, making it so that you and Spencer are doomed to wake up at 5am to meet everybody at the airport. You give out multiple sleepy sidehugs, unable to believe how equipped everyone is at waking up at unbearable hours. With this though you are able to sleep through the flight from D.C. to Colorado just fine using Spencer as your pillow. 

The ski lodge made you gasp when you arrived. Snow that was not present in D.C. covered every inch of the area; two levels of wooden panels lead to a huge snow slope behind the lodge. Through many “ooh’s” and “aah’s” it was finally revealed that only Rossi, Hotch, and JJ knew how to ski. Though, Emily and Morgan were equally as interested in learning from the best. This left you, Garcia, and Spencer to inside activities; watching your friends ski, groaning at lack of cell service (Garcia), reading, and the wonderfully heated pool and hottub that rested on the porch overlooking the slope. This, of course, made everyone squeal. 

Rooms were doubled up and you and Spencer unpacked your bags chatting with Morgan who was leaning against the doorway regarding ski tricks.

“If you’re so uncoordinated and haven't touched a slope in your life, why would you care about how skiing can aid astronauts mobility?” Morgan questioned Spencer's rambling about astronauts who have experience with skiing and had an easier time walking on the moon. 

“Well I’m not walking on the moon anytime soon either I just think it’s fascinating that cross country skiing-”

“What is that?” Morgan interrupts Spencer when a sweater covering his trunks in his bag gets put away, revealing the tiny purple fabric. You start giggling as Spencer sighs. Morgan walks into the room and picks them up from his bag. “What does this sweet girl have you wearing for her, Reid?” He teases.

Spencer definitely grabs them from his hands “Nothing! I got them when I was in highschool, I don’t go swimming a lot.” He sighs and looks down at you shaking his head as if to say “what did I say?” without speaking. 

Morgan relents seeing Spencer's face redden a bit. “Ah, pretty boy, well, this look might be good for you, I can’t wait.” He exits laughing after ruffling Spencer's hair. 

Spencer plops down on the bed next to you, scooping you in his arms. “This better be the most heavenly hot tub I’ll ever experience…” he sighs into your neck. You wrap your arms around him too, running your nails softly over his back and whisper back “Oh stop. You deserve a break, it will be.”

Later that day after playing a few rounds of Spades, everyone decides it's time to face the cold, put on gear and ski. Or watch them from the patio. It’s amusing even though you have no concept of how they’re going down with such elegance. It almost looks too easy for them. You have two sweaters on and a ski coat. Apparently, coming out with one sweater and a coat was so offensive to Spencer that he made you tack on another layer. “You’re the coldest person I know, please add another, baby”. Spencer, who was bundled up himself, pleaded as you spun around on your heels to redress yourself without protest because you know he’s right. 

With your chin tucked into your hands, pressed between Penelope and Spencer, you all take on the roles of pseudo-Olympic commentators to pass the time. The horrible butchered transatlantic accent coming from you all worsened by the warmed eggnog held between cold palms. Spencer eagerly grins as he sees Morgan stumble a bit in his boots, “Yikes, not a good start for Morgan, whose first Olympics is this year. Now wait, wait, it is down to the wire but…YES, it looks like Morgan has gone for the gold and succeeded. Such a momentous moment in the young athletes career-”

Penelope slaps Spencer's arm, doubled over laughing at the fake news anchor voice he has adapted for this role he has put on. “Stop, stop, he’s going to get mad at you!” You all wipe the smiles off your faces and put on fake serious ones as Morgan trudges back up the slope, looking more suspicious than if you had just kept laughing. He shakes his head in disappointment towards the three of you.

All sort of tipsy and numb from the cold decide to go back inside. The rigorous ski activities today coupled with the early morning, causes the rest of the team to head to bed early. You and Spencer run towards your room at the same time, pushing past each other in the door frame as you try to stumble into warmth. 

You slide your coat off and plummet to the ground to turn on the space heater with a speed as though it was a bomb you had 3 seconds left to disarm. You put your hands near it to warm them, looking up from the floor to Spencer who is smiling down at you from the bed. He silently motions with his head for you to sit over by him.

Whining and pulling yourself away from the heater, you get up and stand between Spencer's slightly open legs. He places his arms behind him and slouches back on his palms to get a better look at your face from where you’re standing. He tilts his head innocently to the side and squints at you. “Is somebody too cold? I would’ve never guessed that…” 

Scoffing and pulling your arms around yourself to conserve heat you mumble back “Noooo… I mean. Just my hands. Hah, they feel like they’re made out of molasses.” Spencer gives a mocking sort of pitied smile up at you, which you ignore by the good graces in your heart. He shifts his weight back onto one hand and slips one of his chilled palms up the front of your sweater to your waist. You wince at the juxtaposition between your flushed skin under your layers and his icy hand. 

You grab his wrist from under your sweater with an icier hand. “Don’t… torture me.” You beg at him. He furrows his eyes together and pouts, as if the idea of removing his hand from the curve of your waist would drain all the blood from his veins. Spencer hums and takes it off anyway, sitting up straight and taking both of your wrists into his hands, placing them together so he can cover your hands with his, moving back and forth to spark some friction into them.

The heat starts quickly from your fingertips to your wrists and you hum in content. Spencer whispers a “Yeah, you’re okay,” in response. “Your hands are freezing, I’m sorry angel.” Very malleable from the sweet heat you’re finally getting, Spencer continues to move your hands so that your palms are facing his face now. He kisses your fingertips softly, the warmth from his mouth makes you let out an almost silent moan. 

“S’that nice?” He looks up into your eyes, you still standing there like if you moved all the heat you’ve accumulated on this spot of the floor would vanish. You nod breathlessly. Spencer smiles at your response, not wanting to tease you further, preferring the flush in your cheeks his warmth is supplying you over his taunting. He begins to press more soft, slow kisses over your fingertips, moving your hands at his will by your wrists. 

Then there is a progression to open mouth kisses on your palms, he bends your hands down to kiss over each of your knuckles, eyelids open and trained on your face. Spencer rubs his cheek on the back of your hands and moves them again so the sensitive skin of your inner forearms are facing him. Rolling up each sleeve of your sweater, he coos at the goosebumps that raise from the air on your newly exposed skin. The kisses start from your wrists up to the crux of your inner elbow. You get a second round of goosebumps from a different source now.

You let out a rush of air at the sensitivity picking up on your arms from his mouth, from the cold. Spencer places one last kiss on your arm and nips the inside of the sensitive skin there. At this you can only make a pinched face and mutter out a simple, “Spence.”

He can’t help but grin at your placidity, he’s used to your sharp tongue, but this evening you’re nothing but soft sounds and looks. Your goosebumps soon fade as he rubs your arms up and down a few times and slides each of your sleeves back to their rightful places. “Warm?” He questions finally.

Truthfully, the space heater has kicked up enough that you don’t feel like your life's on the line anymore and you on the outside are just as warm and fuzzy as you are feeling on the inside. Still, being doted on is never something you would allow to run short if you have any say in it. “Mmm… my fingers just can’t. Get warm?” You don’t even believe yourself.

Spencer decides to take pity on you anyway through the “woe is me” act you’re executing poorly. “Ahh. Pesky things. Let me try something.” Spencer picks up your right hand again with the delicacy of picking up a butterfly and places your fingers against his lips again. This time though as he’s looking up at you and cupping your hand with both of his, he positions your middle and ring finger down so that they’re the only two pressed against his lips.

Starting off, he kisses them like before, sickly sweet, only with your warmth in mind, then ups his ante a bit. With a small parting of lips, Spencer's tongue tentatively pokes out around the fingers. He’s testing the waters. Easily, you give an eager nod of approval. 

Another hum falls from Spencer's lips as he takes your two fingers, to the second knuckle, deeper into his mouth. Sucking your fingers now and staring up at you, you shuffle yourself closer to him, straddling his legs and resting your other hand against his shoulder for purchase.

Spencer’s hands slip from yours and find a place under your sweater again, and this time you let him with no complaints. You take your hand from his shoulder and cup his jaw gently with it, guiding his head back slowly, allowing him to take in more of your fingers. Spencer sucks them gently and moans around them when your fingers grip his jaw a bit too hard. You drop the hand that’s grabbing him. One has to be careful not to bruise the jaw that’s sucking their fingers. Something like that.

Letting go with a gentle pop, Spencer takes a breath of air and pushes his face up to meet yours in a wet kiss. Your wet fingers cup his face as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs. 

“Mmpf-” You groan, pain spreading lightly in your mouth now. You briefly think of your first kiss, how feather-light it was that you hardly even felt him there with how tentative he was. After all this time you’ve enabled this boyfriend of yours to use his teeth to nip you like a territorial kitten who is privy to love biting. 

With an open mouth you kiss him hard in a rebuttal that has him smiling against your lips. “Hmm, don’t groan, you’re not going to break,” he wraps his arms around you fully, moving his mouth to your ear now, “helpless little lamb-” his voice gentle despite his mocking candace. 

You don’t feel like baring your teeth, fully satisfied with allowing Spencer to push your buttons until he inevitably notices your novel docility and rewards you for it. You know him like the back of your hand. 

Wrapped in his embrace and legs open over top of him there’s an instinctual need in your brain needing you to grind down on him and a more voluntary decision bred from embarrassment that is saying too soon too soon. In the crossfire of these conflicted thoughts your thighs concoct an awkward shaky squeeze motion and immediately lift up from him. 

“Going somewhere?” Spencer says in a pretend-serious tone before snickering at you once you silently sit back down on him. He understands you just as well as you do him and slips the arms that are under your sweater to brace your hips against his. “Is this what you wanted? You can take whatever you want from me.”

Sitting back down to where you were previously on his lap you card your fingers through his hair. “How chivalrous…” you murmur against his lips before you open your mouth to kiss him again. You have learned how to utilize time being spent while kissing Spencer over the course of your relationship. Rather, you have learned how to kiss each other in a way that signals immediately to the other that you’re needing this to progress past dry humping. The way your lips are slotting together and the way he’s pulling on your lips with his is a blaring sign. 

After you let out a shuddering sigh while pulling away for a breath, Spencer uses this opportunity to usher you so that your back is flat against the bed and he’s resting his arms around your head on top of you. With one of his hands against your cheek and the other caging your head in you easily slip back into the version of yourselves that tremble with need, this desperation not well suited for either of you. Intolerable.

Spencer’s thigh is regrettably too far away for you to grind yourself against and in order to shake the throbbing at your center you wordlessly take his hand by your face and bring it down over your jeans. He takes the hint immediately cupping you so you can grind against his hand through the thick fabric. 

He likes to pull away for this part. Spencer stops kissing you so that while he’s rubbing your clit through your pants he can hear your unoccupied mouth moaning while he kisses along your jaw and neck. He thinks of it as a cheat code really, he gets to keep kissing your skin while simultaneously hearing your progression from moans caught in your throat to small whines and begs.

Surprisingly, Spencer is the first to break and ask for the fabric barriers to be discarded, which makes you proud because you’re the one who’s the most impacted by your (basically) industrial grade jeans prohibiting you from feeling your boyfriend's fingers against you. 

“Baby, these are killing me,” He’s already moving above you to unbutton your jeans and shimmy them down to around and off your ankles. “I promise I’ll keep you warm.” In all honesty you’ve forgotten about the biting wind outside and the slopes of snow toppling over, but you appreciate the sentiment regardless. The idea that being cold will genuinely stop you from having him inside you right now is laughable.

You sit up and take off your sweater and undershirt as Spencer is working on your lower half. Working as in mouthing over your cunt through your panties as you struggle to unhook your bra at the visual.

Your legs are parted, thick white socks still up to your shins, and once Spencer threw your jeans to the ground he laid between your legs to kiss and lick over your panties. You keep fumbling with the clasp whenever he sucks or kisses over your clit. Not the most efficient moment of your life. “J-Jesus, I can’t get this off.” You huff and break him out of his pussy-induced stupor. 

Spencer comes up from between your legs and shuffles over and unclasps your bra with such elegance that you can’t even comment on it because you know he’s boasting over it in his head. Instead you pull over his sweater and shakily unbutton the top half of his button up shirt while he works on the bottom half. Your hands briefly meet over his middle button and he kisses your forehead with a smile as he pops the last one open for you both. 

His own slacks are thrown off alongside yours on the floor and you both grab at each other to take off one anothers underwear in such an eager manner that you have to laugh at each other for a moment before finally sliding them off. 

Spencer guides your head with his hand behind it as you slowly lay down besides him. Knees propped up and together, he places one of his hands on the outside of your thigh, gently running his fingers tips up and down the skin. “Why don’t you go ahead and open up your legs for me?” He asks between petting your leg.

Now, he must notice that it would be too easy for him to open them for you, like he so naturally comes to do. He’s coaxed your thighs open, held them down from the backside of your knees while you squirm from his lips sucking your clit, pushed them together and to the side when you’re squeezing his sides too tight while he’s fucking you. There is something delightfully humiliating about spreading them open yourself. So eager to display for him the shiny wetness that has been coating you for a demeaning amount of time, like gifting him a bashful merit badge for his effortless work.  

You look up at him through your lashes, his eyes are fixed on the softness of your lower belly, waiting for the moment you start to move so he can see your sex being revealed the instant you do it. Pervert. Taking one of your hands away from the bed you trail it slowly from the bottom of your ribcage to the very part of your stomach that has Spencer transfixed. Teasing yourself and Spencer simultaneously, you push your hand between your closed thighs, still hiding yourself slightly, and dragging up some of the wetness you collected with your first two fingers.

This time your fingers go into your own mouth, sucking off the taste of yourself while you watch Spencer mouth breathe and the tip of his dick start to dribble. Poor thing. “I love you.” He whispers into the air, incentivizing you to just do what you’re told. 

Embarrassment flushes your chest as you part your legs for him, putting both of your arms lazily above your head, finally rewarding him with saying “I love you” back once your thighs are on opposite sides from each other and your pussy is on full display. 

He shuffles closer to you on his knees, arm reaching out to softly run his hand on the inside of your thigh. “Look at you… can I touch?” Spencer’s asking like he doesn’t know if he doesn’t you’ll die.

“I’ll die if you don’t.” He should get where you’re coming from. He smiles meekly to himself, proud, or maybe just plain excited, and spreads apart your lips with his fingers. Your toes curl in on themselves as he slides his middle finger through you, spreading your wetness and mulling your ache. It’s almost too much to watch this near-inspection and you turn your flushed cheeks to the side and look at how his dick is a matching shade of red to your face. You love this part. Tangible evidence to how he feels about you, not that you need any more, but seeing right in your face how being with you makes his thighs tense and cock heavy puts a smile on your face.

With two fingers now he’s collecting the sticky soft wetness that never stops collecting in times like these, and rubbing your clit with them in such a gentle way you scoff out a “Please-”

Immediately he gives in, he’s not a professional at avoiding your begs even when it's looking like he’s going to be in charge. Pressing his fingers harder against you he rubs faster circles onto where you’re pleading for it. “Being so bossy. We haven’t even started.” He quips, trying to gain back some of the fervor he has for being in control, not just sit back, be a good listener, and give give give. 

Your clit throbs helplessly against his fingers. Wanting them harder and faster, wanting them inside you, in your mouth, against your throat, you can’t help but whine at the possibilities montaging in your head. Spencer watches a small dribble of white essence leak from you, mutters a “Jesus” to himself and slides his two fingers off your clit to inside of you. You choke on your moan, not expecting to be so full so quickly, it’s perfect. Spencer isn’t teasingly fucking you with his fingers. He knows how to curl them, he does so. He knows to put his forearm into it in the way that makes you stamp your legs shut. He’s fucking you quickly and easily with them as you bring your hands over your face.

“There, Spence.” You mumble against your hands, biting the skin of your palm to be courteous to everyone else in the house right now.

“I know.” He pushes against that spot in you that’s made you cry and rubs with a pressure made with love. You buck your hips and let him get away with whatever he wants to do with you, but the noise coming from his fingers in you makes you want to float out of your body. 

Brows furrowed and head pressing back against the bed your hips start to twist, with a mind of their own, turning over onto Spencer's hand. This part you can’t control. “Mmm, Spencer. Okay, okay, fuck.” You’re bargaining in your own way, for something neither of you know, but Spencer figures out every time. He slips his fingers out and places them on your clit again. Wet and pruned from being inside of you, he can move fastly against it as you gasp.

“I wish you could see what I see right now. So wet. You’re about to ruin these sheets the first night, baby.” He laughs gently at you. 

“Th-then stop touching me.” You bite back. Immediately scared of the idea of him following through. 

Spencer would literally never do that. He rolls his eyes a bit and furrows his brows at you when you make eye contact. He hums and adds a third finger to rub circles against your clit, two not being enough anymore for a precise massage with how wet you are.

Moving slowly back flat against the bed, your pelvis gives up on trying to crush Spencer’s hand underneath them. When his other hand trails down to fuck you while he rubs your clit you look for a way to thank him without bringing humiliation to yourself for years to come. You feebly grip the base of his dick, palm fairly loose around him as he’s currently milking all of the strength from your limbs. 

Spencer plainly laughs at this, it’s so you. He’s making your brain leak from your ears and you can only pump him lightly a few times. The one instance where you two have tried to 69 this story ended a similar way, with his tongue doing unspeakable things while you can just moan around his dick and wetly kiss it. It’s hard to do things while he’s fucking you. 

You huff, wanting his pretty leaking dick to be getting the same amount of attention as you are. Keeping your one hand on his base to keep it from bobbing, you reach over with your other hand to rub his tip, smear himself all over the sensitive top. He’s stopped laughing now.

“Please don’t make me cum right now.” Spencer pleads softly as he starts to quickly rub your clit from side to side now instead of the circles he was doing before. Fuck, talk about a competition. Your back arches up from the bed as your hand falls limply from where it was on his tip.

Wanting to inform Spencer on how you can’t jerk him off while he’s touching you so he should just start fucking you properly is not a sentence in your capabilities right now so you try your best with a “fuck me fuck me fuck me.” Doesn’t leave much for interpretation.

He slows his fingers and pulls them away with a sad “sorry, angel…” after glancing at your sour face from the lack of stimulation you’re getting now. He slips off the bed entirely to grab a condom from his bag, and throws it on your stomach for you to open after his fingers slip trying to tear the wrapper himself from your wetness still on his fingers. 

Fully situated between your legs again now Spencer looks up at the ceiling briefly while you roll the condom on him as if saying a prayer for composure before he’s inside of you. You can’t help but smile at this as you start to rub him between your legs, grabbing his attention back onto the task at hand.

Whenever Spencer first slides into you, you have to make sure to keep your eyes open to watch his face since he nearly always wears the same angelic face that you never get to see elsewhere. His mouth becomes a small “o”, his eyebrows are furrowed together, but not like he’s squeezing them down, they’re pulled up in a blissed out expression as his eyelids flutter closed. Heavenly.

He’s got one of your thighs in his grasp and he’s pushing it up against your ribs as he begins a steady pace with his hips against yours. There’s strings of your slick attached to his upper thighs from your inner legs rubbing against him. Maybe you are making too much of a mess out of these poor clean sheets.

After his initial haze of trying not to come instantly, Spencer brings back down his right hand to continue flicking your clit back and forth with his wet fingers. You bite down on his shoulder to keep from terrorizing your housemates. Your propped up foot, still covered in your warm socks, thuds softly against his back as the other one grips onto the sheets. 

“Feel nice baby?” Spencer asks into your hair as you bite down onto him.

How he could ask you this is beyond you, though you suppose he’s indirectly asking you to feed into his praise kink. “You feel so perfect Spence,” you whine against him. “unhhh…might be a bit too obsessed with your cock” you slur and laugh a bit at the end, not sure what will do it for him. Nevertheless he lets out a choked whimper and loses his rhythm. Bingo. 

His weight is pushing you down so you can’t wiggle away from any of the stimulation he’s giving you. It accumulates quickly and, just laying there and taking it, you don’t get enough time to warn him you’re close. You weren’t close really, it felt good and then you came. Sucking in air through your teeth your thighs squeeze around Spencer, who is murmuring “oh baby…” into your ear. 

You want to kick him for how good he’s making you feel. It feels unfair and you want to throw a tantrum based on how his fingers are still rubbing your twitching clit and how much you love the feeling of drowning in his pleasure. You’d never throw a tantrum though. Right now, Spencer has caught you in a completely willing mood where you’re closer to proposing to him than anything.

It’s dizzying. Your mouth is wide open in shock as you let him touch you into overstimulation and you don’t even realize it till he lets go of the vice he had on your leg and brings his free hand to put his thumb into your mouth. Latching onto it immediately, you use it as a buffer, a gag, to prevent yourself from making too much noise or mouthing off. You bite down a little on the digit and drool rolls down your lips to your chin. Spencer takes his thumb out, collects it, and pushes it back into your mouth.

Spencer reverts back to rubbing your clit back and forth with his middle and ring finger, losing purchase a few times with how wet you are, but finding his way back to your sweet spot just as quickly. You feel the second orgasm building this time around. Your eyes shoot open, you suck softly on his thumb and he looks back down at you, recognizing the pleading look in your eyes.

“Yeah. Y-yeah, angel. S’a good girl-” he gives his sort of permission and you cum so hard you don’t realize he’s finishing right behind you. 

He’s petting your hair with his hand, both wet from either your cum or your spit and you try to shove that complaint out of your head because of how sweetly he’s moaning above you as he finishes. He’s done cumming but he tends to keep sliding into you after, not ready to give up the whole experience yet. This is when you hear his prettiest sounds.

You cup his cheeks and kiss all over his face and he softly smiles and finally pulls out of you, laying on his back and scooping you on top of him. Tracing a finger over his lips softly you whisper how impossibly good he always makes you feel, how he gets you so wet that you didn’t even know you had that much in you till the tips of his ears go red and he pinches your side. 

“Open for me.” He asks one more time after shaking off the blush that has accumulated from your praises. You smile and open, finally sucking off what’s left of yourself from his fingers. He pops them into his mouth after yours without a second thought and you cannot believe this is the man who gets the heebie jeebies when he has to shake hands with someone new he meets. They should be the ones hesitant to shake his hand with where they have been.

Both feeling ridiculously sticky, you shower together, not even bothering to unpack your toiletries, just using the too-lemony-smelling products the lodge has provided you with for free. Spencer washes your hair for you so you don’t even need to complain to him about how he’s dirtied it and you both trot back over to the bed with fuzzy robes on. 

You cover your face with your hands at the unmistakable wet patches all over the sheets and Spencer collects them quickly and pops them into the washer. 

Exhausted, you both lay side by side on the barren bed as you wait for the sheets to be done. Mumbled against your lips a proposition, “I want to see you in that hot tub.” He clearly feels bad for the goosebumps littering your torso that he’s subconsciously been trying to rub away for the last twenty minutes after you left the heat of the shower. 

Blinking blankly at him for a moment in silence you purse your lips, “I was thinking about the hot tub too.” The thought of removing yourself from the room that has cold leaking back into it from the lack of physical activity now is thrilling.

Spencer laughs and sits up next to you on the bed. “Everyone is so exhausted from waking up early and skiing all day that we will be all alone so I thought now would be a good-”

“Yeah,” you nod your head enthusiastically at him. You can’t remember the last time you were in a hot tub and it sounds like a dream right now. “Let me get my suit.” You both wobbly stand up and you retrieve your swimsuit from the drawer, laughing while you toss Spencer's trunks back at him. He’s so blissed out from the sex that he doesn’t even mention the trunks, he just slips them on and heads out. 

You make Spencer step onto the freezing porch first after you demand him to take the cover off the hot tub for you both, this was his idea after all. Watching from the glass door you blow your breath onto the glass to draw a little heart with an “S” inside of it in the fog. Spencer blows you a kiss in return as he skimpers out in his purple trunks and enormous ski coat.

The alternation between walking out in a swimsuit in that ungodly temperature, into the hot jets of the hot tub feels like whiplash, but once you’re fully submerged you giggle happily and sway your hands under the water.

You and Spencer play footsie under the water like two lovesick teenagers at a pool party as you look off the balcony at the snow. You nudge him under the water a bit before talking,

“Thank you so much for bringing me to this, seriously. I feel like we’re on our honeymoon.” you joke.

Spencer hums and takes your hands into his, rubbing the outside of your hand with his thumb. “Mmm, well on our actual honeymoon I’ll probably have to take you somewhere warm to avoid all this teeth chattering.” He teases back at you, but his words have an underlying sincerity that makes you sink yourself down into the water to your chin with a smile.

“You’re gonna marry meeee,” you respond in a sing-song voice, Spencer grins back for a moment then looks at you and nods earnestly. 

“How could I not?”

[thepixelelf]

warnings: none. wc: 871

[mistletoe misbehavior] "This..." Jihoon gaped at the ceiling. Or, for a better description, what used to be the ceiling. "...is ridiculous."

"I think you mean genius," Soonyoung said as he crudely taped up the last piece of mistletoe. He climbed down the small stepladder and put his hands proudly on his hips, admiring his two and a half hours' worth of hard work.

Every single square inch of the ceiling was covered in mistletoe.

If Jihoon didn't know the roof was supposed to be white, he wouldn't have been able to tell. How Soonyoung even managed to find this much mistletoe in the first place was a mystery of its own.

"If this is because they're coming over tonight, you're an idiot."

Soonyoung beamed at the mention of you, eyes sparkling with mischief at the thought of you falling right into his trap.

With a roll of his eyes, Jihoon ignored him and went back to his original goal of setting the table. He felt like the job was insignificant compared to something like making the mashed potatoes, but when Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Joshua were in the kitchen together, no one else was allowed to touch anything in there -- not even the microwave.

Soonyoung himself was banned from the kitchen year round after the Chuseok Pajeon Fire of 2021, an accident you were not only witness to. Back then, you and Vernon were the only ones calm -- aka not freaking out -- enough to be able to extinguish what could've been a real disaster. Since you were technically half the reason the paper towel caught on fire, though, you too were forbidden from Mingyu's sacred kitchen.

Making one last check that no area of the ceiling was left uncovered, Soonyoung gave himself a pat on the back and put away the stepladder. His phone chimed with the Duolingo correct answer noise (a ringtone you had chosen for yourself).

[🎄mistletoe victim🎄] can u come downstairs and help me? i brought too much stuff

He wasted no time in meeting you down in the apartment lobby, where you were waiting with a huge stack of shiny, jewel-toned gift boxes. You wore only jeans and a garish Christmas sweater, but somehow, you radiated merriness. Something about the holidays always made you more cheerful, which was why Soonyoung liked them so much (but he wouldn't tell you that).

As soon as you spotted him, you waved. "Merry Christmas! Can you help me with these ones?" You pointed at one of the piles. "You guys don't have a chimney, so we'll have to use the elevator."

While you laughed at your own joke, Soonyoung joined in as he scooped up each meticulously wrapped gift.

"Oh! Don't forget this one," you said, putting a small, navy blue box on top of the pile in his arms. He could barely see over the mountain of presents you'd brought.

The trek to the boys' apartment wasn't too long, but Soonyoung's excited anticipation to see you fall for his trap made it seem much longer. He was practically bouncing in his slippers by the time the elevator opened.

In his excitement, the small blue box tumbled off the pile of gifts onto the floor, somehow sliding in the opposite direction of the room and behind their floor neighbour's potted plants. Soonyoung went after it, but you kept onward to the apartment.

He struggled more than he thought he would at picking up the runaway box, having to put down the pile and push around the pots to actually find it. He heard distant laughter which he knew was you being greeted by the rest of the group, and something you said that he couldn't quite discern.

As quick as he could, he picked everything up again and ran to the doorway, only to be greeted with the image of you giving both Joshua and Mingyu quick pecks on their cheeks.

"Hey!" Soonyoung shrieked, roughly setting the presents on the floor. "You can't do that!"

It was directed at the boys you'd kissed, but there was no doubt you'd already done the same to the other guys in the room, judging by Seungkwan's playful smile and Jihoon's combination of a smug grin and crossed arms.

"Can't do what, Soonyoung?" Jihoon teased. "It's tradition."

Everyone nodded in agreement, all of you pointing up at the mistletoe-infested ceiling.

"This isn't how it's supposed to go!" he protested still. "It's not fair!"

"Aww," you cooed. "Does Soonyoungie want a kiss?"

Seungkwan and Joshua joined in, making those annoying thirteen-year-old-boy noises kids did when someone was in trouble.

Soonyoung sputtered, "No! No, I just--! It was--!"

You giggled at successfully turning his trap around, the holiday spirit making you more forgiving. "Don't worry, we can make things even right away."

Quick as a flash, you walked up to Soonyoung and placed one gentle hand on his shoulder, leaning in for a peck on the lips.

Mingyu was the one who started the loud, teasing noises this time before you followed them to the edge of the kitchen to see how dinner was going, leaving a starstruck Soonyoung in the entryway.

You didn't fall for his tricks this time.

No, it seems he fell for you instead.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

a/n: this is honestly a hot ass mess, and more like an info dump with some loose plot on the side. it's also ridiculously long because i have been wanting to write about this for so long, but i was lowkey too scared too. i also want to say that i don't condone the reader's actions, mean girls aren't cute nor are they funny, it's just for the morally gray plot 😭

i literally cannot stop thinking about what if Spencer Reid had a childhood best friend that was a mean girl.

realistically, i'm aware that spencer looks down on people like that, but for the sake of this au, imagine if the both of you grew up together, and you protected him from bullies and whatnot.

of course you're not a moral person, you're mean and you have a wicked tongue, and you're all around not nice, but spencer loves you.

i'm imagining a typical LA valley girl; that once you both get older, your clothing gets sluttier and you get meaner, while he gets nerdier.

your dynamic i imagine would be a really loose adaptation of the 'mean to everyone else but you' trope.

it's kind of funny to an outsider looking in, because you feel the need to protect your boy genius from people like you.

spencer helps to reel in the bitchy tendencies in you, because you typically lose your cool fast and say whatever's on your mind, which usually comes at a cost of the other person's feelings.

when you guys were younger, he was definitely scared of you.

though you were this chunky girl that should have been bullied right along with him, you were downright worse than what he had to deal with.

the poor boy nearly shit himself when you sat with him at lunch the day after you had saved him from getting his ass kicked.

he was too nervous to say anything, and you've never left him alone since.

now that spencer's older, he figures that your friendship kind of tracks; he always did attract trouble.

the strange part about it was that, yes, you were snappy, but you had never purposely tried to hurt his feelings.

he knows how you get, especially when you go on your tangents or if your buttons had been repeatedly pushed.

you lash out and say things you don't mean, then slink back into his arms with that charming pout on your face, and an apology thick on the tip of your tongue.

spencer sometimes forgets that people kind of fear you because you're sweet on him.

like let's be honest, you're a judgy bitch. no one likes those.

so when he's exposed to that side of you, he gets whiplash.

you took well to the team though, and i only think that's because you can tell how much they mattered to him.

your main thing had always been to try and defend him against people that have ill intentions.

so when see the sheer amount of camaraderie and familial energy that surrounds all of them, you ease up.

but not when they cut him off. that's when you get ugly.

you guys were in separate grades due to spencer jumping ahead, but you still hung out on a daily basis, you had heard his statistical chattering for the majority of your life.

so, you knew it was something he found pleasure in doing, and you'd be damned if someone upset him.

you really did try and bite your tongue! but sometimes morgan's ego was too big for his body, or maybe jj gave him one too many looks for your liking.

luckily spencer can catch the cat-fight bubbling in you from a mile away; he can see the way your eyes narrow first, a disbelieving smile on your face while your exceptionally done nails tap on the nearest surface in irritation.

have you ever seen a cat when its hair stands up on the back of its neck? yeah, that's you.

all it takes is a warm hand on your naked thigh and a small shake of his head to make you huff and cross your arms, the clinking of your bangle bracelets moving along with you.

of course he'll hear all about it on the ride home.

spencer's feelings for you had always been there, but there was a difference between you being his best friend and his lover.

and honestly? that grade school intimidation that he had felt would came back.

because at the end of the day you were you, and he was him.

it was a ridiculous thought, one that you had dismissed when you had confessed to him yourself.

"do you like me back or not, spence?" you had asked out of the blue one day. "because you keep looking at me and not doing anything about it. It's kind of pissing me off."

his wide, shocked eyes met yours, practically tearing his gaze away from the book he had been engrossed in.

"i... do."

"do what?"

"yes, i do like you back."

"good."

dating wasn't all that different than being your friend, he had come to realize.

the only thing that was different was that you were sweeter than ever.

always complimenting him and buying him shit, posting him all over your social media, and even making him your lock screen.

you were so proud to be his partner, that he had forgotten what being loved out loud had felt like.

your relationship came as a shock to no one, of course.

y'all are the epitome opposites attract.

your skimp wear compared to his cardigans, your bite to his soft ask, your scoff to his chuckle.

that's what spencer's come to love. the fact that you guys are so different.

yes, you're a handful, yes you're mean to him sometimes, but like i said before:

he loves you. and that's all that matters.

[voidpacifist]

viktor headcanons

[modern-ish edition + meljayvik because I cannot resist, also I'm desperate to see more unhinged little ideas about him outside of being everyone's favorite blorbo. we should fear that man and this is my thesis]

learned a weird amalgamation of martial arts and self defense as a kid due to growing up in zaun. despite being in what was considered the "safer" part of the underground, his mother worried he wouldn't be safe on his own. his core strength and arm strength are absolutely ridiculous

in fact, one time he was hooking up with a fellow academy student, and by the time the whole affair was over with, he was hardly breaking a sweat while the other person was trying to catch their breath. he became somewhat of a local legend at frat parties because not only can he wear someone out for hours but, allegedly, he's real freaky with it too

knows the exact monetary value of different human body organs on the black market. whether or not this is from experience is something jayce and mel are unable to determine. vi is also knowledgeable of this and has traded tragic backstories with him in detail

has had to kill a man before, and tells this to jayce frequently to win petty arguments (jayce never actually believes him, even though it is fully and one hundred percent true). it doesn't work on mel

jayce and mel have a secret chart written of how many substances viktor has tried and with how much frequency. weed is at the top of the list, with alcohol being shockingly low. in spite of coming from a slavic background, viktor didn't learn how to hold very much liquor without feeling ill, but for some reason is fine with the illicit psychedelics that grow naturally in the undercity near the runoff tunnels. so far the list is nearly half a page long

will not hit anyone with his mobility aids but will ABSOLUTELY find ways to blackmail and hustle his way out of embarrassment. he learned the blackmailing skill from mel, and frequently looks to her for information since she somehow knows the most about the student body

extremely morbid sense of humor. jokes about being fatherless/motherless behavior and then hits you with, "I would know :]." mel is an honorary member of the motherless behavior banter, considering her own mother disowned her shortly before she came to piltover

taking care of one another is equal parts give and take with him, jayce, and mel, but it's never in a way that demeans each other or exploits each other's weaknesses. for example, viktor hates being carried or manhandled without consent and finds it incredibly patronizing if someone assumes he needs help without just asking him (common sense, but the student body is full of ableist sharks). if he's having a bad pain day or is finding it hard to move, he and jayce (or he and mel, depending on time and place) have a system for getting him to or from somewhere without drawing much attention and even have specific "I need help but don't want to be stared at about it" phrases

father's half of the family is slavic and mother's half of the family is romani. cannot follow a recipe unless it has specific measurements, but can improvise ANY stew or potato based dish with little more than his nose and a few kitchen tools. jayce can improvise any dish, but will always somehow overdo the spice if it calls for spice. mel is happy to try any and everything they make (on her birthday, she's spoiled with their attempts at making the ethnic food from her family, and she'll never tell them but she's very touched by their efforts)

owned ONE pet in his life and it was a hamster. instead of freaking out over it's death, he studied it's body post mortem until his father declared it a biohazard and forced him to dispose of it

learned most of his chemists knowledge from a disgraced former academy professor, but taught himself everything else he knows (if he couldn't get access to it in school). including, for fun, how to preserve and analyze body parts. he initially wanted to be a surgeon or biomedical engineer, but then stuck with chemistry (specifically regarding infectious diseases) to try and find a cure for the grey

shows up randomly at jayces or mels dorms at strange hours in the evening/morning. the first time he showed up at mel's, she thought a burglary was being attempted. he made it out with a bad knock to the head, but she did make him tea in the aftermath as an apology (he hated it but drank the whole thing anyway)

gets stoned with jinx on the weekends, since she's the only one who can find him good, ethically sourced weed. he pays her back by teaching her things he's learning and researching at the academy

meljayvik + caitvi + timebomb dates but they have to find a way to rent out the whole place because each and every one of them has Some Kind of History with the other academy students even though jinx and ekko are still a couple years shy of college age

viktor threw up at the distinguished innovators competition because jayce did first. it was a whole disaster. they spent hours after the ordeal hyping each other up on gatorade and pure adrenaline. it was the physically worst jayce has ever felt around viktor but far from the worst viktor has ever felt around jayce. this was just days after the two of them met mel, and she spent the rest of the evening forcing them to sleep or eat something that wasn't "pure chemicals." somehow, this ended in a heated debate between herself and viktor about the validity of gatorade as a substantial meal. he still refuses to admit he lost

I've said this before and I'll say it again: he has a closet full of ramen. mel takes from his stash often

can run on caffeine and very little sleep to the point where he is physically incapable of resting like a normal human being without feeling drained. flu season is absolute hell

showed up to one of his lectures shirtless once because he was in a hurry. fed everyone who looked at him funny the most outrageous sob story about how "weak" he was, then laughed about it with mel and jayce like an absolute sociopath for days about it. jayce did not find it altogether very funny. mel and him still joke about it

beat vi in an arm wrestling contest before he got sick. still almost beat her after his diagnosis too, but still took the betting money anyway. she'll never admit she's slightly terrified of him, but it shows

can wield many different kinds of knives but is terribly clumsy when it comes to other weapons like clubs and swords and staffs. tapped out of adaptive sports within his first week because it was "boring him." spent the next month teaching martial arts to his fellow disabled peers until the board made it an official extracurricular

turned sky down in the nicest but most insane way possible. nobody knows what happened or how, just that they ended up spending MORE time together after the fact and that it involved illicit activities. the rumors were insufferable for weeks. and wildly funny

(please feel free to add more, I'm gonna start a collection)

[hoomandoescosplay]

My Deer | Alastor x Reader Oneshot

As Alastor is focused on finding the perfect place for each ornament on our tree I sneak out of the living room. A smile grows on my face as I open our bedroom closet and grab a small box I hid in the back.

Taking off the lid I have to stop myself from giggling as I see the reindeer headband I bought a few weeks ago. After taking a moment to stare at them I pick them up and make my way out of the bedroom, making sure to hold the headband behind my back out of sight.

Alastor is still hard at work decorating the tree, making my smile widen. I grab the star for the top of the tree with my free hand as he begins to hum along to the song playing on the record player.

“Looks like the tree is ready for the final touch.” I say as I walk near him, shaking the star around gently. He turns around to look at me and smiles. "It does. Do you want to place it up there dear?"

I shake my head. “Can you do it? The tree we picked is a little too tall for me.” I say with a small laugh. "Of course. Let me." Alastor chuckles as he grabs the tree topper from me and begins to carefully place it atop the Christmas tree.

As he places the star I quickly pop the headband on his head. He immediately freezes, his hand hovering over the tree topper as he takes a moment to process what just happened.

He slowly turns his head back to look at me before using his hand to feel what was placed on his head. "What-?" He mumbled while coming to the realization that I placed antlers on him.

“You look so cute as a reindeer.” I laugh out. “I’m so glad I bought those.” He blushed a little in embarrassment as he brought his hand back down to his side but kept the headband on.

"I do not look cute." He mumbled in an attempt to argue. I cross my arms, huffing playfully. “And how would you know that if you haven’t looked at yourself.”

Alastor paused before sighing, realizing that I was right. "I don't have to look to know that these antlers look ridiculous on me." I walk closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Well I think you look great and your wife is always right.” I give him a large grin.

He rolled his eyes with a smile as he wrapped his arms around my waist. "You’re lucky I love you. These would be long gone if I didn’t." He then kisses me for a moment. “Why a reindeer headband? I’m curious.”

My eyes light up at the question, hoping he’d ask. “You always call me dear so now you're my dear. Get it?” I laugh slightly once more. “I also just love deers and reindeers are the festive version of them.”

Alastor stared at me for a moment before laughing a little at the pun. "I can't even say I'm surprised that was your reason." He chuckled before giving me a small smile.

"Well, I'll be your dear if that's what you want" He said in a humorous tone. My smile grows at his words as I pull him in for another kiss. His arms pull me a little closer as he kisses me back for a moment.

We soon part, and he pulls away with a warm smile on his face. "I love you, my dear." Alastor chuckled as he looked down at me. “I love you too Alastor.”

"Even when I look like a deer?" He laughs as I begin to laugh along with him. “Even when you look like a deer. A very cute deer.” Even though he rolled his eyes at the last part he couldn't hide the growing smile on his lips.

[five-and-dimes]

💄

Making some decent headway on this fic today! This is from a little earlier than the last snippets, when they first meet:

Dream hadn’t been confident in his ability to go home with Hob once, let alone become something more. Hob was unfairly, effortlessly attractive. But he was also so charismatic, magnetic, bright. He was the kind of person who didn’t need to be attractive. Dream hovered just outside his circle just to hear him laugh, to hear him tell stories of his life, to see the way he embraced his friends so warmly and earnestly. Hob holds the door open for strangers and pats his friends on the back, and Dream didn’t particularly like the idea of those hands being rough with him, but he would take it to be touched by him at all. But Hob was so gentle. He’s still not sure how he managed it- surely there was someone better for Hob to turn to. But he catches Hob’s eye and bites his lip, and he manages to chat casually with him long enough to get a proposition, and Hob holds his hand as he ushers him up the stairs to his apartment, and Dream feels something like peace at the thought of at least being useful to someone so good.  Hob makes it hard to be useful. He lays Dream out, keeps kissing him, keeps petting him, keeps pausing to ask “Is this okay? Does this feel good? Tell me what you want?” and Dream is breathless with it. He keeps waiting for Hob to snap, to turn mean, but even when he finally gets his cock inside Dream, he’s languid and soft. Dream finds himself, for the first time he can remember, struggling to keep his composure. Hob has him on his back, so he has to keep reminding himself not to scrunch his face in pleasure, not to moan too loud, or grunt inelegantly. He keeps his back arched until it aches, keeps his eyes attractively half-lidded, restrains his panting to soft sighs. It’s exhausting. It’s always exhausting. It is so fucking worth it. When Hob comes, it takes all of Dream’s self-control not to start sobbing. When Hob pulls out only to lean down and take Dream’s cock into his mouth he has to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from wailing. When they have both finished, the sex over and their bodies cooling in the afterglow, Hob shifts next to him and keeps kissing him. Dream wants to stay here forever. Eventually though, he knows his time is up. He dresses smoothly, feeling the weight of Hob’s eyes on him. When he turns to say his farewell, Hob leans up on his elbow, grinning bashfully. “Listen, I know you’re wildly out of my league,” he laughs self-deprecatingly, “but I’d kick myself if I didn’t at least ask… Any chance I could get your number? Maybe… we could go out sometime?” Dream is used to people telling him “let’s do this again sometime”. People invite him back to their beds. They don’t invite him out. He’s certain he must look ridiculous with how quickly he nods in agreement. But Hob doesn’t take the offer back. He just smiles wider.

[parkitrighthere]

Hey , will we get an update on AOP ? If not you mentioned we could get a sneak peak . Could we get that ?

Heyyy sweet anon!! How’s it going?? I hope you’re having the BEST day ever and soaking in all the Christmas magic!! I’m so sorry I didn’t check my inbox earlier, and well… rest is history, right? But hey, better late than never, right?? Sooo, here’s a little sneak peek for you, I hope you like it!

Okay, quick heads up:

This is the beginning of chapter 3. I mean, it’s not super exciting or anything yet (shocker, right?), but I promise it’ll do for now. I’m still working on the chapter, so cut me some slack. Also, I’ve realized I have a ridiculous amount of love for Kenji right now… like, why did I just say that out loud? 🤷‍♀️ Oh well, I did. #KenjiIsLife

So, here’s a little snippet (under the cut, obviously because suspense and all that jazz). Please try your best to like it, even though my dialogue game is still under construction. I swear, I’m leveling up my writing skills (slowly but surely). 😅 And seriously, tell me what you think, I’m dying to know!

And... uh, forgive me? Or maybe not? But, like, please? 🙈

Alright, here it goes—enjoy!

(Jimin have nothing to do with it. I merely posted him to distract you from all the mess I've posted)

The darkness wrapped the sky in its velvet shroud, a blend of endless black and the faint glow of stars. The moon hung high, heavy and luminous, as if holding up the weight of the heavens. Its light spilled through the open window, brushing across the room in silvery streaks, making the shadows dance on the walls. The cold air slipped in, sharp and biting, rushing past your face. You inhaled deeply, your chest rising as the chill pricked your skin.

It was already midnight, and sleeping wasn't an option. Your fingers gripped the edge of the windowsill, as you leaned forward, staring into the stillness of the night. The coolness of the wood beneath your palm punished you, but your mind was far away, caught in a storm you couldn’t quite name

 You weren’t crying—there were no tears left to shed. You weren’t angry either. The fiery edge of rage had dulled long ago, leaving behind an ache too stubborn to fade.

You exhaled sharply, your breath mingling within the cold air. It wasn’t sadness—not anymore. You’d come to terms with it after talking to Elizabeth.

Your shoulders slumped, and you rubbed at your temples, trying to massage away the tension. It wasn’t about you. It never had been. Your reflection in the window—dull eyes and a tired face—stared back, and you nodded at it, a soft chuckle skipping past your lips. Acceptance wasn’t a choice; it was the only option left.

 You thought enough about it, and one thing you grew certain of was that it was, and never would be, about you. You were ready to accept the bond—it was always about him. You knew you couldn’t keep trying alone. You tilted your head back, the moonlight catching the wet shine in your eyes, though no tears fell. It wasn’t how it worked. It couldn’t be.

 Slowly, you pulled back from the window, the cold air chasing after you. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you let out a shaky breath. You wouldn’t beg—not for him, not for love. No.

You couldn’t deny it, not to yourself at least—you wanted to try. More than anything. Your chest ached with the thought, your fingers curling into the fabric of your dress as if clutching at the hope you refused to voice. You didn’t know much about him, not really, except one undeniable truth: he was intense, passionate, extreme. And so were his emotions—wild, consuming, and impossibly bright. But he hid them, masked them behind a wall so impenetrable that even you, his mate, couldn’t see through it.

Your hands trembled as you ran them through your hair, the strands tangling between your fingers. The memory of his dark, shimmering boba eyes flashed in your mind. You’d imagined them so many nights—staring at you, full of the love and affection you so desperately wanted. No, deserved. Didn’t you? And even if you didn’t, a part of you insisted he should give it anyway. Because weren’t you his mate? Your lips pressed into a thin line, and your jaw clenched as bitterness bubbled in your chest.

You had the right to him, didn’t you? But fate, cruel and merciless as it always was, had turned your bond into a twisted game. Or maybe it wasn’t fate at all. Maybe it was him—your mate, the one who could ignite every nerve in your body with a single glance but chose instead to keep his distance.

Your shoulders sagged, and you leaned back against the wall, letting the cold surface seep through your dress. You didn’t know why he kept you at arm’s length, why his indifference cut so deep. A sharp breath escaped your lips, your chest tightening. Did you even want to know? That was the question that kept you awake at night, gnawing at the edges of your sanity.

The air felt heavier now, as you straightened, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. You didn’t know the reason behind his indifference. But did you want to? That was a big question now. You wouldn’t beg. Not for a man’s attention, not for his love. You might crave him—God, you craved him with every fiber of your being. His presence, his touch, the way his voice seemed to echo in your mind long after he’d spoken. But you would cut yourself open before you begged.

You were just a low-ranking werewolf, a speck compared to the royal Lycan king. But rank didn’t matter now, not to you. You would not grovel—not for him or anyone. If he wanted you, he’d have to fight for you, just as fiercely as you’d once wanted to fight for him. And it wasn’t necessarily that bad here; at least you were being fed.

There was no point in thinking about it now.  As tired as your mind was, your body was weirdly energetic, yet you felt paradoxically weak—the lack of training and shifting in weeks was finally getting to you.

Your eyes darted around the room, taking in the too-familiar walls and furniture. Boredom surged like a wildfire, quick and consuming. You hated this place—its silence, its stillness. But if someone were to ask what you hated most, the answer came easily, almost reflexively. Him. Your mate. Jeon Jungkook.

You huffed, shaking your head as if trying to dislodge the thought. You stood there for a moment, swaying slightly, your arms hanging limply at your sides. Your chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate breaths. The night wrapped around you like a second skin, colder than it should’ve been. You rubbed your arms absentmindedly, even though you felt no sense of cold. There was something strange in the air tonight, though. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It clung to you, just out of reach, like a whisper you couldn’t fully hear.

You, once again, reached to the window, your fingertips brushing the edge of the curtain. The cold glass pressed against your palm as you stared out at the still, dark world. A frown tugged at your lips. It wasn’t delight you were feeling—not even close. It wasn’t contentment either. No, this was different, deeper.

Fulfillment. As if something had shifted back into place, something you hadn’t realized was missing.

But with it came fear. A cold, tearing fear that settled in your chest and refused to let go. Your hand pressed over your heart, feeling its unsteady rhythm thrum beneath your skin. Your throat tightened, and your eyes flicked toward the moonlit horizon, searching for something you couldn’t name.

You turned away from the window, pacing the room with quick, uneven steps. Your fingers ran through your hair, tugging at the strands as if the slight pain would ground you. It didn’t.

You paused mid-step, staring at your hands as they trembled. Was it the bond? You didn’t know, but your gut screamed that it was. Everything—the restlessness, the strange sense of completion, the fear—it all traced back to him.

You glanced out the window at the night sky—heavenly dark and ethereally calm—and a small smile tugged at your lips, unbidden. The moon was truly magnificent tonight; you thought nothing could ever match the quiet beauty of nature—especially the moon.

You drew in a long, deep breath, holding it in your chest before letting it out slowly. The weight against your ribs loosened, if only a little. Your eyes dropped to your hands, fingers curling and uncurling as you bit your bottom lip in thought.

Without a second thought, you turned on your heel, your movements dogged but not rushed. You slipped out of your quarters and into the dimly lit hallway, pausing for a moment to glance around.

Where to go?

You tilted your head, brows knitting together as the question settled in your mind. You didn’t have an answer, you merely didn't want to sit in your quarters. With a small nod to yourself.

The guards stationed along the walls watched you with wary eyes, their expressions unreadable. You didn’t pay them any mind, your focus elsewhere. The coolness of the air pressed against your skin, seeping through your clothes like icy fingers. A shiver ran down your spine, but instead of recoiling, you welcomed it.

Winter was near. The thought sent a flicker of warmth through you, chasing away some of the cold. You’d always loved winter, the way the world transformed under a blanket of snow, quiet and pristine. In just a month, the first snowfall would come, covering everything in a soft, white hush.

A smile broke across your face, wide and genuine. Your fingers brushed against your arms as you imagined the crunch of snow beneath bare feet, or the feel of it against your fur in wolf form. She loved winter too.

And then there was the blue moon. Only three weeks away, a grand celebration waiting on the horizon. The thought made your chest swell with anticipation, and a quiet giggle escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Your steps quickened, your feet almost skipping as you moved through the halls. You practically bounced on your toes, the cold air swirling around you but unable to dampen your mood. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, something sparked inside you—something bright, something hopeful.

But happiness had always been a fleeting guest in your life, and tonight proved no exception. Your steps faltered, the soft rhythm of your bare feet on the cold floor coming to an abrupt halt. The smile that had warmed your lips vanished, leaving them pressed into a thin line as Jungkook’s voice tore through the stillness of the still night.

It was sharp, loud, booming even. The sound echoed around you, bouncing off the walls. Without realizing it, you had wandered near his quarters. Your chest tightened as frustration bubbled beneath your skin. No matter how much you tried, how much you willed yourself to stay away, you always found yourself here—drawn to him like a moth to flame. You hated it. You hated him.

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip. His voice rang out again, louder this time, filled with venom and a simmering rage that made your stomach churn.

“I’m not obligated to tell you anything. Anything.”

Your body flinched involuntarily at the sound, as if the force of his anger had reached out and struck you. It wasn’t fear, not exactly. It was instinct—your body recoiling from the raw, unfiltered aggression in his tone.

You turned your head slightly, your gaze shifting to the floor. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. For a moment, you considered walking away, your feet itching to retreat. But you stayed rooted to the spot.

He was angry.

He was yelling.

But why? At who?

The questions spun relentlessly in your mind, but the answers evaded you. Your curiosity, though unwelcome, began clawing at your chest, demanding to be fed. A small voice whispered in the back of your head, urging you to move closer, to press your ear to the door and unravel the tension vibrating through the walls.

You shook your head, swallowing hard, forcing your feet to stay planted. Jungkook had made many things painfully clear on your first day here—one of them being that you were not to involve yourself in pack matters unless explicitly asked. His rules were ironclad, just like the wall he had built between the two of you.

Fine. If he didn’t respect or care for you, you wouldn’t care for him—or his pack. You took a slow, deliberate step forward, ready to walk past his quarters without so much as a glance.

But then you heard it.

Her voice.

Elizabeth.

The sound froze you mid-step, your body stiffening as if an invisible force had gripped you by the shoulders. She was in there, her voice carrying through the closed door—tenacious, loud, yet gentle. She was asking him something, and though his voice was lower now, you could still hear the anger simmering in every clipped word he threw back at her.

Your stomach twisted, curiosity roaring to life and twisting into something darker. Jealousy.

The fire of it ignited low in your chest, spreading quickly, burning hotter with every second you stood there. What were they talking about? Why was she here, in his quarters, this late? The questions pushed everything else from your mind, leaving only a sharp, all-consuming need to know.

Your jaw tightened, teeth grinding together as your breath came out shakier than you wanted to admit. Your chest heaved as you stared at the door, as if willing it to give up its secrets. The thought of her—of them—on the other side of it sent a cold, bitter shiver down your spine. You clenched your teeth harder, your body trembling with an emotion you didn’t want to name.

Still, your feet remained rooted, caught between storming forward and fleeing altogether. You told yourself you didn’t care, that whatever was happening in that room didn’t matter to you. But the fire raging inside you screamed otherwise.

"Jungkook, you can’t just run away from all you’ve done!" Elizabeth’s voice cut through the heavy, pregnant silence like a blade, shrill and demanding. Each word was laced with venom, her tone rising an octave with every syllable. "It’ll be the death of us all. Do you even have any idea what would happen if Jimin found out what you’ve done? Do you know how many vamp—"

“Leave!!”

Jungkook’s voice thundered through the air, slamming into you like a physical force. The raw power in his Alpha command made your breath hitch, your chest tightening painfully as if an unseen hand had wrapped itself around your throat, forcing you to bare it.

Your knees buckled slightly, your hand shooting out to the cold wall beside you to steady yourself. The sheer authority in his tone wasn’t just heard—it was felt, reverberating through your body, making your heart stutter and your skin break out in goosebumps.

For a moment, you stood frozen, your wide eyes staring blankly ahead as the weight of his words settled over you. But then something stirred deep within you.

Your wolf.

You hadn't felt her in days.

It was a faint ripple at first, a flicker of energy in the pit of your stomach. But it grew quickly, spreading like a wildfire through your veins. She was there—fully present in a way she hadn’t been in years. You could feel her strength, her defiance, her barely restrained anger.

Why was she angry?

It took you a moment to realize that you were feeling Jungkook’s emotions. It was the first time you had ever experienced them. His feelings were so intense that it was becoming hard to breathe. It felt as if a fire was burning in the centre of your chest.

Your lips parted in a shaky exhale, and your fingers gripped the wall as you tried to steady your racing heart. The connection was overwhelming, a storm of emotions flooding your senses: pride, fury, longing—all of it tangled together.

Oh! Moon goddess, it was overwhelming

Your head turned slightly, your gaze narrowing on the closed door as Elizabeth’s voice was abruptly silenced. The tension in the air was suffocating, thick enough to choke on, and yet... you couldn’t move.

You didn’t know what you were waiting for. Maybe for Elizabeth to storm out, her face twisted with fury. Maybe for Jungkook to step into the hallway, his presence as commanding as his voice.

Or maybe, you were waiting for yourself—to decide whether you would stay or walk away, pretending none of this had ever happened.

"Move, Bee."

The whisper of your wolf echoed faintly in your mind, a nudge that left no room for argument. Before you could even process her words, your legs carried you away from the shadows where you stood rooted. Your feet moved on instinct, silent against the cold marble floor as you melted into the darkness of the hallway, just out of sight.

The door to Jungkook’s bedroom creaked open, and Elizabeth stepped out.

You stilled, your breath catching in your throat as your gaze locked on her. She looked… dreadful. Her hair was slightly disheveled, her cheeks flushed, and her lips pressed into a thin, angry line. But it was her eyes that unsettled you most—they were wide, almost frantic, as if she’d seen something that had shaken her to her very core.

What is wrong?

Your fingers twitched at your sides, itching to reach out and grab her, demand answers to the storm of questions swirling in your mind. But before you could act, she stormed off, her hurried footsteps fading into the distance.

The silence that followed was deafening, and your chest ached with your unanswered questions.

You kept walking and without realizing it, you were outside. The icy wind bit at your skin, and your bare feet pressed into the damp grass of the royal garden. The once soothing serenity of the night now felt oppressive.

The soft rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of the night animals did little to calm the unease gnawing at you. The cold that had earlier been invigorating now seemed to seep into your very bones, chilling you from the inside out.

Your steps faltered, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, your fingers digging into the fabric of your sleeves as your mind raced.

What were they talking about?

Your thoughts spiralled, wild and rigid. The memory of Jungkook’s loud voice echoed in your head, and Elizabeth’s pale, distraught face lingered in your mind.

What was she doing in his room in the middle of the night?

"Bee, you’re thinking way too much," your wolf interjected with a bored sigh.

You couldn’t help the dry chuckle that escaped your lips, your breath fogging in the crisp night air.

'Thinking too much? That’s rich coming from you,' you muttered under your breath, the tension in your shoulders easing ever so slightly.

Your wolf hummed in response, unbothered, as if this entire situation didn’t concern her in the slightest. She had made her grand reappearance only to take over your body, push you into the cold night, and now, she was defending him.

"Of course, you’d side with him," you said, shaking your head with a humourless smile. You paced aimlessly through the garden, your fingers brushing against the brittle leaves of the hedges as you walked.

"I’m not defending anyone, Bee. I only said you’re thinking too much," your wolf’s voice came again, calm and infuriatingly smug.

You huffed, dragging your hands through your hair in exasperation as you continued pacing. The cool breeze tugged at the strands, but it didn’t calm you—it only added to the storm brewing in your chest.

"You’ve said enough," you muttered aloud, a bitter chuckle slipping past your lips as you shook your head.

"Aww, Bee trying to be sassy? That’s new… and dumb," she quipped, her tone laced with amusement.

You froze mid-step, your jaw tightening as irritation rippled through you. Balling your fists, you let out a slow, shaky breath, your eyes narrowing at the empty garden ahead of you as if you could glare at her.

"I’m curious," you snapped, your voice low and laced with frustration.

"And jealous," she added with a shrug you could practically feel, the smugness in her tone igniting the fire in your chest.

You clenched your teeth, your fingers twitching at your sides as you turned on your heel and paced again. Was she always this difficult? you wondered, your steps now faster, heavier, as if walking harder would somehow silence her.

"You’re being impossible," you muttered, your voice clipped.

"Well… I’m trying," she retorted, her smirk audible in your mind.

You let out a low growl, a sound of pure frustration as you stopped in your tracks and threw your hands in the air. The cold bit at your skin, and the grass beneath your feet squished as you shifted your weight, trying to ground yourself.

"Why do you always do this?" you hissed through gritted teeth, pacing again, your movements acute and agitated.

Your wolf merely hummed, her silence somehow louder than her teasing had been. It was like she was sitting back, watching the chaos unfold, amused by your every reaction.

You pressed your palm to your forehead, your other hand on your hip, and let out a shaky breath. The night around you was still, the garden eerily quiet except for the rustle of leaves and your own unsteady breaths.

"Aren’t you curi—" you started, your voice harsh, ready to lash out at your wolf and her endless sass.

But the words died on your tongue when a hand landed on your shoulder, firm yet not harsh. The touch yanked you out of your spiralling thoughts, and for a moment, the world tilted. Your breath hitched, eyes flickering from their glowing yellow back to their usual shade as a startled scream tore from your lips.

Instinct kicked in as you twisted away, prying the hand off your shoulder with shaky fingers. Your movements were frantic, unsteady. In your rush to create distance, your foot slipped on the damp grass.

You stumbled backward, arms flailing uselessly to regain your balance, but gravity wasn’t forgiving tonight.

"No, no, no—!" The words barely left your lips before you felt it: an arm curling around your waist, warm and secure, trying to steady you. For a fleeting moment, you thought you’d be pulled back, saved from the inevitable fall.

But fate had other plans.

You went down, and so did he.

The icy water swallowed you both, shocking the air from your lungs as you hit its surface. The cold stabbed at your skin like a thousand tiny needles, and a gasp escaped you, only for the water to rush in through your mouth and nose.

Panic surged as your chest tightened, the burning need for air overwhelming your senses. Your limbs flailed in the dark water, your vision a blur of silvery moonlight and shifting shadows.

Just when the pressure in your lungs became unbearable, the same hand that had startled you moments ago was back, gripping your arm with unwavering strength. With a single pull, you were yanked upward, as if you weighed nothing.

You broke through the surface with a desperate gasp, coughing and sputtering as cold air filled your lungs. Your vision cleared just enough to make out the figure before you, drenched and dripping, his chest rising and falling as he caught his own breath.

You blinked rapidly, your body shivering violently from the cold. Water dripped down your face, tangling in your lashes and blurring your view, but you could still make out his piercing gaze locked onto yours.

"Stand still, Luna. It's not that deep," Kenji's voice broke through the haze in your mind, soft and distant. His words, though meant to calm you, barely registered in your brain. They felt like whispers, faint and without meaning, as your world rolled in the aftermath of the cold water.

You didn’t have the energy to respond. Everything felt numb, too much to process. You barely felt his hands as they gripped your body, pulling you out of the water, his strong arms steadying you. The cold air hit your skin like a slap, making your body tremble, but you didn’t care. Your clothes clung to your body, heavy and soaked, as if they were another layer of ice.

"Are you okay?" His voice, low and smooth, carried a tinge of concern, but you couldn’t answer him. You were too focused on your own ragged breathing, each gasp severe and painful as you tried to fill your lungs with air.

You nodded, still struggling to steady yourself, your knees weak beneath you. Kenji’s hands loosened their grip but remained close, as if afraid you might collapse. His eyes—green, intense, filled with raw worry—never left your face.

Your gaze flickered to him, taking in his drenched appearance. His black shirt clung to his frame, outlining the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen. Eight abs? You thought dazedly, momentarily distracted by the sharp, perfect definition of his body. His arms, thick with muscle, rippled as he shifted, veins prominent under his skin. His coat was missing, leaving only the damp shirt, trouser and boots that squeaked with every movement as water pooled around his feet.

For a moment, the world felt quieter, but the thudding of your pulse in your ears reminded you of the mess still swirling in your mind. Kenji’s eyes never left you, scanning you for any signs of distress, his worry plain in the furrow of his brows.

You opened your mouth, wanting to speak, but a cough seized you, harsh and sudden, the water still making its presence known in your lungs. You doubled over, a sharp spasm running through your chest as your throat burned.

Cough, cough.

You wheezed, the water still clogging your chest. Kenji’s hand was warm on your back, patting gently as you tried to catch your breath. His touch was surprisingly comforting, but it couldn’t shake the rush of anger and embarrassment bubbling up inside you. When your breathing finally steadied, he brushed your wet hair behind your ear.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be this frightened," he murmured, his voice soft and apologetic, eyes scanning you with an unreadable expression.

"Really," You snapped, unable to hold back your frustration any longer, huffing sharply and turning your gaze away from him. "Of course, I’ll be frightened. You came out of nowhere!" You couldn’t help it. The adrenaline still buzzed under your skin, your heart racing in a way you didn’t understand. Your eyes darted around, desperately looking for something to focus on, when you caught sight of the lake.

"There’s a lake here. A lake." The words came out in disbelief as you took a step back, your mouth falling open as you stared at the calm water behind you. You couldn’t believe it. It was like you had stepped into another world, even though you were still in the Lycan palace.

Kenji was still beside you, and his puzzled gaze flickered between you and the lake. "Why do you seem so angry at the fact?" His voice was light, but there was confusion in his eyes.

"Because. I. Fell." The words came out sharp, punctuated with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, shivering from the cold water clinging to your clothes, which now felt like a second skin, heavy and soaked.

Kenji raised an eyebrow, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. "Valid," he said, almost too calmly, his eyes still filled with curiosity.

"Duh!" You huffed again, your arms tightening across your chest in annoyance. The cold bite of the air wasn’t helping, and the peaceful lake, which had once seemed serene, now only added to your growing frustration. Everything felt off now—strange and disorienting. You were unable to contemplate why were you feeling cold, you were a werewolf.

The anger, now mixed with frustration, flared up again. "Who has a lake behind their palace garden?" You shook your head, still in disbelief.

Kenji’s voice was full of pride as he spoke, "We do." The way he said it made you want to smack him, but you held yourself back, the urge bubbling up in your chest. It would be unladylike, un-queenly. No, you couldn’t afford to lose control like that. You sucked in a breath, steadying yourself. Elegance, composure—those were the things you had to focus on.

You forced a smile, one that felt far too wide, far too tight. "Kenji." Your voice was soft, almost sweet, and the smile that accompanied it was dripping with artificial sweetness. His eyes snapped to yours, widening for a moment, and you saw the exact second his face twisted into something almost grotesque.

"That’s so fake!" he blurted, his voice betraying the shock in his tone.

A gasp slipped past your lips, surprise flashing across your face before it quickly melted into something else. His eyes shot wide with horror, his skin paling as he stepped back slightly, as if you had just slapped him. "Oh! Moon goddess, forgive me, Luna. I—I…" His words faltered, stuttering, as if he could barely comprehend the mistake he had just made.

You blinked, confused. His reaction felt over the top, but there was a genuine fear in his eyes now, one that caught you off guard. You weren’t strong enough to fight him off, and you weren’t a queen yet—not in his eyes, not in anyone's eyes. The only one who might consider you his queen was Jungkook, and he barely acknowledged you as his mate.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, the cold air biting at your skin as you stared at Kenji, ignoring the tension that still hung between you. You couldn’t care less about his reaction to your earlier words, focusing instead on the question hanging in the air.

“What are you doing here at this time?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended. His eyes flickered with surprise, his mouth opening, but then nothing. He pointed a finger toward you, lips moving, but no sound came out. It was almost comical, watching him struggle to form words.

“What?” you snapped, growing impatient.

He blinked, his brows furrowing, trying to process your response before mumbling, “You mean, pardon?”

“No, I mean what. Now start talking, will you?” you demanded, your patience wearing thin.

He blinked at you, bewildered. “That was my question.”

“I mean once again. What?” You were so done with his indecision, the confusion clear on your face.

“That was my question.”

A frustrated sigh slipped past your lips, your eyes narrowing as you crossed your arms tighter. “I heard it before. Explain.”

Kenji’s eyes hardened slightly, frustration creeping into his expression, but he didn’t back down. “What are you doing here?” he repeated, his voice finally steady, but it only made you more annoyed.

“Walking?” you replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You tilted your head, locking eyes with him. Your voice was dismissive, but the corners of your lips lifted in something close to a smirk.

“At this time?"

"When I walk, I don’t care about time. Walking is good.” You shrugged nonchalantly, your gaze challenging him to argue. His expression faltered for a moment, his mouth falling open as he stared at you, as if you’d grown two heads. You didn’t care.

“What? I can walk. It keeps you fit,” you added, eyes narrowing into a defiant glare, daring him to question you further.

Kenji stood tall, as he spoke, his gaze intense as if daring you to question him further. “We are. No. You are a werewolf. We have high metabolism. We stay fit anyway without walking,” he countered, his voice carrying a hint of amusement as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You arched an eyebrow, not even bothered by his words. “And?” you shot back, your voice laced with indifference. You still didn’t have a reason for being here, but you weren’t about to back down.

He sighed, clearly growing tired. “What are you doing here?” you asked again, as if it was the most obvious question in the world.

His gaze flicked to you, and before you could even bink, the words reached your ear. “Patrolling.” He said it with such ease, as if it were a routine task. His shoulders shifted, a casual shrug, as he waited for you to process. His eyes never left yours, a slight raise of his brow as if daring you to argue.

“Why?” you asked, your confusion evident. You could already feel the answer forming in his mind, but you were far too frustrated to wait for it. “I mean, why you?” you continued, gesturing at his strong frame. “You’re a warrior. A strong one. You have different duties. The guards who patrol are different.”

Kenji’s lips curled into a grin, and he stepped forward, looking down at you with pride. “First of all, I’m not a strong warrior. I’m the strongest.” His chest puffed out even more, his chin tilting upwards as if the very idea of being anything less than the best was an insult. The smirk on his face deepened as he caught your eye. “And don’t you know we were attacked yesterday? One of our warriors almost died?”

His words hit you like a slap. You blinked in disbelief, the words barely registering in your mind. “What?” The harshness in your voice made Kenji wince, his hand instinctively going to his ear as if to shield it from the sound. He stepped back, his face contorting in discomfort, eyes wide with surprise.

“You don’t know? Nobody told you?” His voice was quieter now, almost uncertain, and you shook your head in response. His brow furrowed, confusion turning to something else—something closer to curiosity. “Why?” he asked, a tinge of disbelief still hanging in his voice.

“I was ordered by Jungkook to stay away from pack business and so was told others not to tell me anything,” you explained, the words coming out flat, detached. You didn’t expect his reaction—his face drained of colour, and he looked like he had seen a ghost. His throat bobbed, and a heavy gulp escaped him, loud and clear. There was panic in his eyes now.

“Kenji?” You walked closer, your gaze softening as his body trembled slightly. You put your arm on his shoulder, trying to offer some form of comfort.

But what you didn’t expect was the shift in his posture, the way his shoulders hunched as if the weight of something far heavier rested on them.

“Are you crying?” you asked in disbelief, your voice almost a whisper.

“I don’t want to die.” He whispered, his voice small and muted. The words hung in the air, heavy and confusing.

“I still want to find my mate and impregnate her.” His confession was quiet, the last part barely audible.

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say.

Okay, now I’m just here nervously waiting for your thoughts! Please go easy on me, I promise I’m trying my best! 😬

[ladykailitha]

Howlin' For You Part 2

I love how that rhymes! What can I say I'm a dork!

Ah yes the little ficlet that got away from me. The first part is here. The main story is here.

I actually just love this verse in general. It's just a fun little world to play in.

Tomorrow there will be no WIP Wednesday due to the holiday. But I will be back next week with maybe a new fic for you to request. We'll see how far I get.

Sunday is also the beginning of my hiatus. Every once in awhile, I take a break from posting to relax, spend time with my family and fluff back up my backlog. I'm just not sure who long it's going to take. I said two weeks last time and I was ready to get back at it after a week. But we'll see.

~

Steve thought he looked ridiculous, like he stepped off the covers of some Harlequin romance. All he needed was a busty blonde trying to rip his clothes. Which he honestly didn’t know any. He was too well-bred to tug at his cravat even though he wanted to.

Not that it was too tight. It was impeccably tailored. That was the upside to having friends in every avenue of the supernatural community is that clothes were always made by the best tailors and seamstresses in the world. Saville Row in London wished they had the talent of the elves that made his attire tonight.

His outfit was based on the military attire of the period he was representing tonight. All of his pack were dressed similarly. Even his female alpha wore the white slacks and red coat, though hers was less resplendent then his. Her words, not his. But they cut the dashing pair.

Next to him, Chrissy was wearing a classic ballgown all in black and trimmed with red lace. But only a fool would think either of them weak.

There was no softness in her features. If Steve looked like he walked off the covers of a Harlequin romance, Chrissy looked like she walked off the cover of a gothic horror romance novel. Her eyes were cold and calculating. Though, her cover would absolutely have a pretty young woman in her clutches.

He looked up as Eddie and Wayne were announced and smiled. Now he knew why Robin was insistent on their looks. Now, Eddie and Steve would match. God, he loved his best friend.

Next to him, Chrissy bristled when Eddie’s friends came up to him as soon as he entered. Steve put his hand over hers.

“Now, now,” he murmured. “The silkie, sirens, and gwyllgi don’t owe the vampires any deference and don’t know Eddie and Wayne are supposed to greet you first. And they will. Just wait.”

Chrissy took a deep breath. “You’re right. My apologies. I’m not used to interacting with the supernatural community at large. Vampires tend to be very insular by nature. Comes with the whole needing to drink blood to survive.”

Steve nodded. Werewolves were the same. But that was the reason for this ball in the first place. To foster those connections with the supernatural beings they went to school with, worked with, lived along side of.

After the showdown that left the coven in tatters and the werewolf pack in chaos, both Chrissy and he thought this would be a good idea to have an occasion to celebrate the community that came together to rid this town of evil.

Halloween and New Year’s Eve had been floated around, but Steve thought the best night to have it would be the winter solstice. It wouldn’t be on the same day of the year and full moon excluded, it held a great significance for many members of the supernatural beings that made up their small town.

And so the Yuletide Ball was born.

It was going great so far. Well, mostly. There was that one incident...but no one was hurt and everything was fine. It was!

~

Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off Steve and Chrissy. They exuded power in a way that drove him wild. Wayne had that from years of experience, but these two were born to it. Eddie was so glad one was his best friend and the other was his boyfriend.

He was about to go over to them to greet them like he was supposed to, when Gareth and Brian came up to him with their dates. Barb looked stunning in a dress that looked like waves out on the water in various shades of green, while Brian was in a tux and feathered short cape. Gareth wore traditional hunter’s garb with a black fur cloak. His date was another gwyllgi from his pack, a young man named Darren, who was blushing next to Gareth.

“Hey!” Eddie said with a big grin. “You all look great!”

They chatted for a moment before Eddie finally made his way to the center of this and every universe, Steve.

“Hey, darlin’,” he greeted with a kiss and then bowed to Chrissy. “Your Dominus.”

“Eddie,” Chrissy said as they kissed cheeks. “I’m so nervous right now. A fight almost broke out between Jonathan Byers and Darren Driscoll.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “What happened?”

“Apparently werewolf greeting and gwyllgi greeting are two separate things,” Steve said with a wince. “Only no one was told, so when Darren wouldn’t bare the back of his neck as per werewolf greeting, Jonathan got his hackles up thinking Darren was trying to slight him.”

Eddie blinked at them for a moment. “Oh shit. Yeah, gwyllgi only scent each other if they hadn’t been introduced first.”

“Yup,” Steve said pursing his lips and rocking back on his heels. “Thankfully Gareth dashed between them and explained things before either of them transformed.”

“Thank god for Gareth’s quick thinking, then,” Wayne said, coming up behind Eddie. “We should get Nancy to interview and catelogue all the different set of manners from everyone to avoid that next year.”

Steve smiled. His former female alpha had found herself at loose ends after Robin replaced her and this would help with that. “I think she’d like that a lot.”

Wayne bowed his head to Chrissy. “Your Dominus.”

“Your suggestion is elegant,” Chrissy said in lieu of a greeting. “Would you wish to inform her of it?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Wayne said with a smile. “I’ll go to see to it now.” He bowed his head again and then was gone.

“My apologies, Eddie dear,” Chrissy said, “but I don’t know how Billy tolerated your in his territory for as long as he did. That man is simply too powerful.”

Eddie smirked. “Because it’s not Billy who did the toleratin’, and by extension you. He tolerates you in his territory. He’s been here since the town was seventy settlers, nine vampires, and sixteen werewolves. And I think it’s best you remember that fact.”

Chrissy opened her mouth to protest but found that she couldn’t. She stared at Eddie in shock and then bowed her head.

“Whoever sired your uncle must have been powerful indeed,” she murmured.

Eddie licked his lips slowly and the look on his face sent a shiver down Steve’s spine. Eddie, of course new who his grandsire was. But whoever it was, the young, newly turned vampire wasn’t saying.

Eddie bowed and then turned to Steve. “May I have this dance?”

Steve nodded and let him take him by the hand to lead him out to the dance floor. Unlike the vampires here, he didn’t need to afford Chrissy any deference as he was her equal. They glided together as they moved across the dance floor.

“Is your pack still pressuring you to take a mate?” Eddie murmured into Steve’s ear.

“No,” Steve said fondly, “after the events with Murray and Billy they aren’t keen to see me reproduce. Too afraid that I would imprint my forward thinking views on the new pups.”

“Baby,” Eddie said morosely. “That’s not a good thing. They should be respecting you, instead of this backtalk again. Didn’t they learn anything?”

Steve snorted. “I guess not. I thought that having Robin as my female alpha would help, but it someways I think it’s made it worse. The two outsiders running things.” He shook his head ruefully.

“Especially after you had to expel Tommy from the pack as Keeper,” Eddie murmured. “Thankfully no one had the ill sense to take his side, especially since he went willingly. But the fact that a Keeper hated the alpha so much he turned traitor? Yeah, that’s not a good look.”

Steve pressed his cheek to Eddie and breathed, “They don’t like that I’m dancing with you, either. But somehow Lucas and Max are perfectly fine to be pressed cheek to cheek as they glitter like stars on the dance floor.”

“That’s because I was born to ruffle feathers, darlin’,” Eddie said with a sigh. “Or in their case fur. But you’ll have a long and prosperous reign as alpha and they will either change with the times or leave.”

“I wish I could follow through with my threat and make you my mate,” Steve murmured, “werewolf law be damned.”

“Um...” a voice said timidly behind them, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but there’s no law that says your mate has to be a werewolf.”

Eddie and Steve stopped dancing and turned around. Standing there was a spunky blonde girl with actual fucking ringlets.

“Who are you?”

The girl beamed up at him. “Hi! I’m Suzie Bingham! Dustin invited me.”

Eddie and Steve shared a look of surprise. Dustin had been sent to a science and math camp for werewolves the last part of the summer and had come back with a supposed girlfriend. A girlfriend no one thought existed.

Until now.

“Hello,” Steve murmured. “You’re from the Provo pack, correct?”

“You remembered!” Suzie said brightly. “But about the whole mate needed to be another werewolf is bull crap.”

“And how do you figure that?” Eddie asked eyeing her curiously.

“Mormon werewolves get a bad rap because of the whole polygamy thing,” she said with a wince, “but we’re really good at keeping records.”

Steve rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And what do your records say?”

She beamed up at him. “That the most famous pack in the Midwest had silkie for a mate in the 1840s.”

“Okay,” he hedged nodding with pursed lips. “But I doubt the silkie was male. The point of the alpha is to breed.”

Suzie wrinkled her face in disgust, pulling her chin down to her chest. “Gross. And I thought our family values were messed up.”

“Listen, Suzie was it?” Eddie asked with a feral smile. She nodded, her sunny attitude never dimming for a moment. “Would you please get to the point? Please!”

“Oh!” she said, eyes wide. “Shoot! Right. So the purpose of an alpha male isn’t to breed with the alpha female or any of the women of the pack to breed more werewolves. The point of the alpha is turn people into werewolves to prevent inbreeding. Which brings me to my point. The point of the alpha’s mate isn’t to bring pups into the world but to stand as his second in command.”

“But isn’t that the point of the female alpha?” Steve said, tilting his head in confusion.

Suzie shook her head. “The point of a female alpha is so that the women of the pack have someone to go about problems inherent in being...well female I guess.”

Eddie and Steve stared at her in shock and then glanced at each other.

“I don’t even know where the notion that the female alpha was supposed to be the second in command came from,” she continued to ramble. “Maybe someone looking at wolf packs would be my guess. But werewolves and wolves aren’t the same thing. Even the wolves we turn into tend to be bigger than any beast found in nature. I’m hoping my dad will let me study them so I can compare the two cultures.”

“And would you be willing to tell everyone that?” Steve asked innocently.

“Oh I already have been,” she said with a grin that belied the cute exterior. “Since I got here yesterday, in fact. But you’ve been so busy planning this wonderful party, that I haven’t gotten the chance to tell you that.”

Steve smiled at her. “And will you be joining us for the full moon celebrations on Monday?”

Suzie batted her big blue eyes up at him and smiled so sweet and innocently. “It would be my honor.”

She curtsied and then was off again, probably back to Dustin. Steve watched her go with growing fondness. He looked over at Eddie who was grinning at him.

“What?”

“Are you going to adopt every teenager you meet or just the werewolf ones?” Eddie asked sweetly, leaning into his space.

Steve’s jaw dropped and he nudged him out of his space with his elbow. “Excuse you! Mr. I-Must-Adopt-Every-Lost-Sheep-in-High-School!”

Eddie batted his eyelashes. “Darlin’ I don’t believe I implied that I wouldn’t co-parent with you, I was just wondering how big our brood was going to get is all.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. It was Eddie’s favorite laugh. Eyes screwed up tight, mouth open and wide, his shoulders shaking with genuine mirth.

“Not all of them,” he said when he could catch his breath. “Just that one. Because she’s right, vampires tend to be insular because they have to be, but werewolves shouldn’t be. By their very nature they have to be social.”

Eddie nodded, his lips pressed in a firm line. “And thanks to the former pack going to crazy with the whole killing humans and all and the aftermath of that, for the last fifteen years the former Harrington, now Roane pack have been isolated from other packs.”

“Thanks to Murray,” Steve said rubbing his chin. “But how to convince them that everything they know was fed to them by fucking Wormtongue.”

Eddie kissed him firmly on the lips in the most searing kiss.

“Wow,” Steve said blinking in shock. “What did I do to deserve that?”

“You talked nerdy to me,” Eddie growled. “You said Wormtongue and you got it right. That was so hot.”

Steve blushed.

Eddie tapped Steve’s forehead. “But enough about the pack and all that bullshit. I shouldn’t have brought it up, we’re here to party and not play politics.”

And then as if the musicians Chrissy hired had heard him, the music changed from a minuet to something more upbeat.

Suddenly the floor was flooded with people and they were dancing. Eddie twirled Steve around and Steve laughed as he gracelessly stumbled around in a circle. Even Chrissy and Wayne were out on the floor cutting loose. They made for an odd couple, but they were clearly having fun.

Then Steve spotted him. He was hiding in a corner, sipping on mulled wine and trying to look inconspicuous. Which probably would have worked on every other member of the party, but not Steve.

He whispered in Eddie’s ear that he’d be right back. He beelined it straight for the pillar he was hiding behind.

“Dr. Sam Owens,” he said smoothly, “I was starting to wonder if my invitation had gone awry.”

Sam choked on his wine and started coughing. Steve slapped him on the back until he got his breath back. He looked up at Steve with watery eyes and a half-hearted attempt at a glare.

“I forgot my magic doesn’t work on you.”

Steve chuckled. “Being a Van Helsing really does have its perks. Now why are you hiding here instead of dancing with Wayne instead of Chrissy?”

“I’m not immortal like he is,” Sam muttered, “and if he tried to turn me it would kill us both.”

“Ah.”

Because yeah, Steve got it. As werewolf, he would live a couple hundred years, but Eddie? Eddie would live forever unless someone killed him or he took his own life.

“And quitting the VHS won’t help?”

“No,” Sam said, his glare more effective this time now that he was no longer choking on his wine. “Because if we lost our protections when we left, that would leave us vulnerable to attacks from people who didn’t like us sticking our noses in their business.”

Steve barked out a laugh. “Fair enough. But from one hopeless romantic to another, it doesn’t matter how long you have, share it with him. After all nothing is promised.”

Sam nodded.

Steve gave his shoulder a squeeze. “And maybe make a grand entrance, yeah?”

Sam barked out a surprised laugh. “Yeah okay.”

Steve went back to dancing with Eddie, promising him to tell him later what all that was about. They laughed, danced, ate, and drank their way through the night until about halfway through when Sam suddenly appeared at the top of the grand staircase, resplendent in silver and blue. A perfect complement to Wayne’s outfit.

Eddie pointed up at the stairs to Wayne, whose smile took over his face. He walked over to the stairs and reached the base just as Sam did.

“Sam...” Wayne breathed. “You’re here.”

“For you,” Sam murmured, leaning over and kissing Wayne’s knuckles. “May I have this dance?”

And the music changed again to something softer, more tender and dear.

“I’d be honored.”

Steve took Eddie into his arms and sighed happily. “I think this is going to be the best Christmas I’ve had in my life.”

“Yeah baby, how’s that?” Eddie murmured, pressing his cheek against Steve’s.

“Suzie will help straighten out the pack so I can be with you,” he said softly, “Sam and Wayne are back together. Nancy will be writing that supernatural manners book. And the other members of the supernatural community in Hawkins no longer feel like second class to the werewolves and vampires. Really what more could I ask for?”

“That does sound like an amazing Christmas present, baby,” Eddie purred. “Happy Yuletide and Merry Christmas, Stevie.”

“Merry, Christmas, Eds.”

~

Tag List: COMPLETED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[leoisstillalive]

kiss me, hardy - valentino rossi/marc marquez, 608 words merry christmas to all who celebrate!!! here is a little fic i wrote while delirious from sleep deprivation, staying up until 2 am to prepare christmas lunch.

Valentino presses a kiss to Marc’s bandaged pinky finger, eyelids drawn shut like curtains- not avoiding eye contact but focusing his attention, trying to be tender. Maybe trying to help it heal, as if love is in league with the arcane.

Rather childishly, the warmth of the man’s lips brings great comfort and ease to the throbbing of Marc’s joints there- so perhaps there is something in it. The finger has been sprained a few too many times. How ridiculous to be a twenty-one year old with a pinky that will never quite close into a fist ever again.

He can live with, though, it if it means Valentino kisses it better every time he sees it. In fact, he can live with any wound if that’s the case. Perhaps he should try to break something larger next time- an ankle, a collarbone— a femur would be too far, especially when Valentino already kisses him there.

In the small of his hips, the soft flesh of his inner thighs, wiry stubble scuffing, tickling closer to his groin. He does it until Marc pleas for something substantial, something filling.

But today he is only kissing his fingers. He travels along the tips of them, pressing the pads to the groove of his lips, moving down to the palm knuckles, to the crest of Marc’s palm, to the base of his wrist- his pulse point. He leaves his mouth there for a long while, eyes still peacefully shut.

He echoes that Botticelli beauty he embodied in his youth, cheeks dusted pink to his ears, brows furrowed in thought, curls falling about his head- perhaps thinner, but no less persistent, still fighting their way out of every hat and helmet. Marc sometimes wants to tug those little hairs that tuft at the back of Vale’s neck, out the bottom of his racing hat, but he figures people would ask questions.

He can do it in the dark though- he can do anything in the dark. And he does.

With Vale breathing hot and sleepy on his hand, face buried in the groove of it, Marc lets his other rest on that hair, knits his digits through. 

Valentino kisses him until he whines, until he starts to scratch at the man’s scalp impatiently. 

“Does it still hurt?” Valentino coos, parting his eyelids at long, long last, voice mumbling into Marc’s palm.

Marc peers down at where Vale is splayed on his bare chest, body hidden under the blanket but so clear in Marc’s mind, every naked inch committed to memory.

He nods with big, brown eyes. It never crosses his mind to lie, “Aches. Feels better when you kiss it.”

He wiggles it for emphasis against the groove beside Vale’s nose. It earns him a laugh- a slow, easy, rolling laugh that sounds honest and knowing and like he could live here forever with Marc, and it knots Marc’s stomach together with deft hands. He is so good at that- at keeping Marc entranced. Always waiting, hanging on for another breath, another laugh, another kiss.

“You think?” Valentino lifts his head from Marc’s chest, hangs four long, slender fingers and a thumb from the man’s wrist to hold it still while he recommences his pecks.

Marc hums, “For sure,” smiles small and in-love. So, very in-love.

And to be in love is to be devastated. Love could be a war zone, could be an active volcano, could be the furthest point North, and you’re in it. And sometimes you’re alone, facing the lashing winds on your own- doomed to solitude- though Marc had never been.

His first love was Honda, and they have always returned this, been through it all with him- right in the thick of love. Hacking at hedgerows and sharing in victory. 

And Valentino loves him, he does. This, Marc knows.

[yuomizuu]

♡ | holiday, peppermint candy ── childe x reader !

synopsis: it’s the most wonderful time of the year in which everything is merry and bright! well.. it would be, if you weren’t so cramped with schoolwork. but as the saying goes, there’s always room for a christmas miracle to find its way in, even if temporary.

additional: w.c 1.6k ⸝⸝⸝ ( content includes: modern au, uni au established rs, gn reader, holiday fluff, mini smau snippet at the end )

(🧣 ) yuomi’s note: plays the trumpet poorly – introducing my holiday piece of the @stellaronhvnters secret santa event! this gift is specially written for and in dedication of @mitsvriii !! i hope you enjoy this piece ohka ^w^ ahshwaj i lowk struggled for a bit trying to grasp childe’s character since i haven’t ever written for him before so im hoping i got his characterization right for the most part😭im wishing you a very happy and wonderful merry christmas and a happy new year as well! may the coming year treat you kindly in your future endeavors <3

once more, it appears as though that particular time of the year is starting to steadily approach. where a light snowfall pleasantly greets you on a slow morning and you bask in the tranquil silence of the world outside through frosted window-panes whilst the city transforms itself into a snowglobe of winter wonderland.

for some individuals, they cannot help but dread this time of year. the idea of having the once long days now cut short, shoveling heaps of snow off their cars or driveways, and wearing layers upon layers of clothes just to keep warm was anything but agreeable. of course, you understood such sentiments; it wasn’t like you haven’t had your fair share of difficult winters before such as that one time you ( unfortunately ) ended up waiting an hour for the bus outside in the freezing cold, only for it to never show up. your entire body had felt completely numb, you almost couldn’t even bring yourself to walk back to your apartment thinking that it was probably a better fate to just freeze to death. needless to say, you ended up skipping out on all your classes for that day — something that your boyfriend, ajax, found to be far too exciting than it should have been.

because while you remained moping and complaining to him on the phone about having to miss out on your classes and therefore, unable to take notes which will undoubtedly cause you to fall behind in the semester, he appeared to have other things planned up his soft winter sweater sleeves.

“—and the worst part about it is that the professor doesn’t even upload the lecture slides online! how does he expect us to have our notes written down when we can’t even have access to the damn thing?”

the frustration in your tone is evident and ajax does his best to respond with understanding of the situation, something you appreciate him for in that moment because archon knows you’d be long spiraling into a panic by now without his voice of reason. “i’m sorry to hear that babe, is there no one from your class that you can ask to send you the notes?”

heaving out a sigh, you sink further back into your bed with a frown, running a hand over your face. “no… lynette is usually able to help me with that but she went away on some holiday vacation with her family last week. i have no idea how she isn’t stressing out about this like i am.”

”hmm, what about emailing your professor for the lecture notes?”

for the next short while, you and ajax went back and forth on discussing different solutions to your dilemma with the former occasionally voicing a ridiculous suggestion like raiding him in snowballs or sending him an overbaked, unsavory fruitcake for the holidays. admittedly, they coaxed a chuckle or two out of you, briefly distracting you from the overtaking stress until you need to quickly redirect the conversation back to that matter at hand.

as the two of you continued to discuss however, you couldn’t help but notice the odd sniffle or two that would sound on the other line

”ajax, are you coming down with a cold?” you asked, an undertone of concern in your voice that elicited a soft chuckle to ring in your ear.

”no, no, i’m alright babe. i was just outside for a bit taking out the trash. it was supposed to be scara’s turn but you know how he is with this kind of weather.”

an unknowing sigh of relief slips past. “okay good — make sure you’re bundling up properly before going out, and warm yourself up right away once you get back inside. you’ll catch a nasty cold if you don’t.”

”i will, i will..” you could almost hear a slight hint of a smile in his voice as he answered. even when you were in the middle of dealing with an academic crisis, you still went out of your way to make sure that he was doing okay. “buut… i want you to warm me up instead.” 

“huh? me?” you question, pointing to yourself as though he could see you in the first place. “i mean unless there’s a way for me to do that through a phone call, i don’t think i can even—eh? ajax?”

the call abruptly ends with the other end hanging up and you pull your phone away from your ear, blankly staring at ajax’s intact page in confusion. strange… did he lose signal? a power outage maybe? or maybe his wifi’s finally kicked the curb.

just before you could press the call button again to see if you could still call him, the sound of knocking on your door grabs your attention. with a small groan, you climb out of bed and make your way over, unsure of who awaits on the other side. honestly, who would even be out and about in such cold weather in the first place? and yet to your surprise, the moment you open the door you’re suddenly enveloped in a chilling embrace.

“ack! ajax?” well that was certainly unexpected.

burying his face into your neck, the man lets out a small, content sigh, his warm breath fanning against your skin which is a complete contrast to the coldness nipping at his nose — or his entire body for that matter.

a shiver runs down your spine. ”ajax! you’re freezing!” you complain, attempting to squirm out of his grasp that only results in him tightening his arms around you even more.

”that’s why i’m hugging you, so you can warm me up,” he mutters, voice muffled against your neck and you can't help but almost deadpan in response.

“that’s such a cheesy thing to say..” 

“maybe, but you love it either way!” he remarks, pulling back with a smile that you always resembled to a golden retriever ( demeanor wise ). he then feigns a look of thought. “or would you prefer if i did this instead?”

before you can even take a moment to wonder what he means, he’s already reaching out and cupping your face with his ice cold hands, the feeling of which has you yelping in protest once again. “babe, no! stop treating me like your personal heat warmer!”

yet no matter how many times you attempt to pull your head away from his hold, he doesn't seem to budge in the slightest, simply staring at you in amusement. eventually though, he relents from torturing you any further with his teasing antics, giving a light pinch to your cheeks until he leans in and captures your lips in a brief, chaste kiss that manages to make your face grow flush, almost to the point where you can’t tell if it’s his hands that had warmed up already or your face is just too hot to even realize.

“now that i’m all nice and warm, we can start having our indoor christmas date!” ajax says, welcoming himself further into your home without explaining himself any further.

“wait… what? ‘indoor christmas date?’” you repeat, still a bit dumbfounded from the kiss shared a moment ago. closing the door behind, you walk over to the kitchen counter where ajax as already set down his backpack, watching him pull out the various things carried inside one by one.

“well, since you won’t be able to attend your classes today, i figured it was the perfect opportunity for us to spend the day together instead. look! i brought packets of hot chocolate we can make, your favorite christmas movies–along with some of my own–and i even found these cool little gingerbread house building kits in my dorm!”

you have to admit, a part of you can’t help but become intrigued at all the items and activities placed before you. college so far has been nothing short of stress and fatigue on your already weary self, taking up so much of your time throughout the past month or so. because of that, you’ve barely gotten the chance to even enjoy the festivities of the holidays this year, too preoccupied with meeting deadlines and wrapping up group projects. now that you’re presented with the opportunity to indulge in the holiday spirit and best of all, with your boyfriend, you’re almost tempted to give in. but…

“ajax, this is all really sweet but.. i really can’t spend the day doing all this, i’ll still need to catch up with my classes online and do the work there–”

“c’mon babe, please? just for a little while and then i promise i’ll help you figure something out with your classes.” 

archons.. there he goes giving you that look again, the one he knows you can’t resist no matter how much you attempt to deny it. you let out a sigh of resignation. “.. okay fine. but only for a little while and that’s it.”

that supposed plan of yours ended up going down the drain real quick.

although the situation with your professor ( or the rest of your classes for the day ) was far from over, you would inevitably find yourself forgetting about that situation entirely throughout the rest of the day. your build up of stress would be released via warm cuddles beneath soft heated blankets and equally warm cups of hot chocolate as you and ajax would have a marathon of some of your favorite christmas movies. but that was of course after you two spent a good while making your gingerbread houses together. at first it started out as a cute little activity with the goal of just getting the pieces to remain standing for longer than two seconds but after about ten minutes or so into the session, that was when you noticed ajax began to get a little too invested into his gingerbread house. for  now though, you’ll simply ignore the way he went full on architect mode on his building–sooner or later all his hard work will be reduced to nothing but mere crumbs and leftover pieces of candy, but you won’t tell him that.

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

divider credits: @/issysh3ll

[keepmovinjunior]

i just wanted to talk about something (under a read more bc it is out of character)

everyone is here for their own reasons, and that's cool. i totally get that. i'm not about to tell anyone how to spend their time or operate on their own blog.

i, personally, am here for fun and that's it. i'm here to write. i'm here to ramble about fictional characters and have silly little interactions on the dash / expand on my character's relationship with your character's. my real life has its own stressors (i have a great life but obviously not everything is peachy keen and being someone who is politically informed and inclined, i want to have a safe space in which i am not interacting with that type of content that i can retreat to for my own relaxation). at the end of the day this is, as i said, playing tumblr barbies for me (and most likely for most people). it's a game and it's not that serious. in fact, it's like. not serious at all.

some people are here for community and friendships and that's totally fine. i'm not against making friends, either, and i do really like and appreciate a lot of the people i interact with often and on a daily basis, even if i don't know most of you well at all. we engage in the same hobby and we're all aliases behind a screen but i really do enjoy talking to many of you. however, at the end of the day, if i don't make friends here, that's fine, too. i'm just chilling!

having said that, i've been around for a long time and have, of course, made friendships, had relationships, gone in and out of certain blogs, etc. and this is not a hobby i think i will ever outgrow (probably will just have less time for during certain periods of my life - and most people probably will experience that). i've had falling outs, i've had moments of being uncomfortable with certain people, i have had headcanons and sometimes even some of my own graphics lifted from my blog by others of the same muse, i've even had whole ass relationships with other writers in which i was very hurt. but here's the damn thing, ok: i never, ever, not even once, had a public DNI that other people had to adhere to to write with me, tried to call someone out or incite community wide drama by dragging other unrelated people into what happened over my own personal experiences, or tried to control anyone else over it. i always understood that not everyone is going to feel the same way, or have the same experience, with another person. i understood that dealing with my feelings about the situation was on me, and it was in my own best interest to learn how to move past or live with what happened. if i felt uncomfortable with seeing that other person around, it was my own responsibility to handle my own feelings as i saw fit, and no one else needed to do that for me. this is just good philosophy toward life in general, but, as it applies to tumblr: if i couldn't handle seeing someone on this platform and co-existing in this space, i would leave, sign out, or just. literally do anything else. i knew that my own friends and my own fun is what i should focus on.

there is a feature on tumblr called filtering. you can blacklist tags and users. you can filter things that make you uncomfortable if you want to stay but don't want to see those things. you can unfollow. you can block. you can literally do anything else, and you don't owe explanations for that. or, if you can't handle it even with those things done, you can sign out and leave and invest your time in something healthier and more relaxing. this is a hobby.

by all means, have your DNIs, make your call outs (leave me out of those, though, because i guarantee you that unless this person is a sexual predator, groomer, or scam artist, i am not going to care, especially if i have no relationship with anyone else involved in said drama) and will think you're ridiculous for it. just know that the moment you start to try to control how other people operate, you will lose out on a lot of really good experiences and just make this a more miserable place for you to be.

the best healing is exposure and love and support. it's not focusing on what other people do or seeking out spaces in which you will be triggered because you enjoy being a victim.

take it from me, a 30 year old queer woman who has gone through my fair share of loss in life: it's not that serious. it's really not.

[a-spes]

Can I request a Kate Bishop fic with a fem reader where they're dating and the reader finally opened up about their mental health struggles and past attempts and shows Kate the scars that formed from self harm and they have a serious conversation and the fic is very fluffy? If this is too dark or triggering I completely understand.

Down A Dangerous Road. — One-Shot. (4,344 words).

" The woman would never judge you for the things you have done when you were at you lowest, but some had in the past, and sometimes you could still hear their voices in the back of your mind. You were a disapointment to everyone. Everyone, but Kate. The archer was able to see past the darkness that stained your heart. She saw the person behind the pain, and gave you a chance to feel love. "

| Tags & Warnings — Kate Bishop x Reader. Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic. One-shot. Comforting and Happy Ending. Crying, Depression, Healing, Mental Health Issues, Recovery, Implied Past Self-Harm, Self-Harm Ideations (No Act Is Described Or Happen), Suicidal Ideations. Please, read carefully, and take care <3

| MAIN MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES.

You can't recognize your face.

And it doesn't matter for how long you've been starring at your reflection, because the image returned by the mirror still feels foreign.

You looked at it until the details became blurry, until it became a shapless form that blends in with the rest of the room. You looked at it until you could not tell what you were looking at anymore.

Your gaze lost in emptiness, you wonder where did your smile go. And you may have been watching yourself in the mirror for hours, but you still haven't found it.

At some point, you tried to forcefully bring the smile back on your face, forcing the edges of your lips to rise again. Yet, it looked wrong. It was ridiculous, and painfully fake.

It was the eyes.

Because they never lie, and there was no chance that Kate wouldn't see past the act you were trying to put up. The woman knows you too well to fall into your traps, and as soon as she enters the appartment you share, she will know something is wrong. Without asking any questions, without speaking, just by looking into your eyes, she will know, and that is the last thing you want.

Kate Bishop may be your girlfriend, but she also is a hero, and you know how demanding her job can be. Every day, she puts her life in danger to save thousand of strangers — Something for which you deeply admire her. The last thing you want is to add your problems to the weight she is already carrying.

After a day spent in your bed, thinking about all the things that needed to be done, blaming yourself for not being able to complete the tasks,

You wish you could give your girlfriend the comfort she deserves. Usually, by the time she is back home, you would have taken care of most of the chores.

But not today.

Today, you have been unable to achieve anything. You spent the day in your bed, and if you were unable to move, your thoughts were racing the whole time, not giving you a moment to rest — How could you, when you had so much to do?

The dirty laundry was still in the basket, despite your promise to do it. The bed was undone, exactly how she left it this morning. And there was no warm meal waiting for her on her return, you didn't even have the energy to cook yourself anything, too busy drowning in your guilt, and shame.

When you woke up this morning, you tried to ignore it.

You tried to get up, and go about your day, as if your body didn't weight ten times what it usually does, as if every breath you took wasn't stealing all your energy.

It is a feeling you knew all too well, one you thought you would never know again. That's why you had ignored the signs that appeared in the previous days, fooling yourself into thinking that everything was fine when it was not.

It is your fault, you thought.

It is your fault because you preferred to pretend that you were just tired, even though it quickly became obvious that it wasn't the cause of your torments.

Soon, the few more hours of sleep became a day spent in bed, unable to leave the comfort of your sheets. Suddenly, everything was overwhelming, even the idea of getting up, and so you just kept putting off the moment when you'll have to do it, until the day was already coming to an end — It is too late, now.

You had tried to pretend that everything was fine. You had tried to push these feelings away because you didn't want to face the truth — That you were slowly going back to the state you were in months ago, when you were at you lowest. You wanted to ignore the signs of your distress, not wanting to go back to the days when you were so hopeless, in such agony, that you've resorted to drastic measures.

It has been months — fifteen exactly, and three days — since you last did it, a bit less than a year since you last thought about doing it.

Fifteen months.

Almost a year, and a half.

It is a lot of time, and so you thought your struggles were behind you. You may never forget the things you have done, the scars on your arms being a constant reminder of where you come from, but it felt like those things happened ages ago.

How could you have imagined that, fifteen months later, you would suddenly be back where you started, feeling as distraught as the day you decided to stop? You couldn't, because you never thought that life would be cruel enough to try to tear you away from your newly acquired peace.

Now that you had tasted how sweet life could be, you didn't want to give up this privilege, knowing you wouldn't be strong enough to survive losing everything for the second time. It is a battle you barely survived the first time, one that left permanent scars on your soul and body, and you have spent years trying to rebuild yourself after that — Something you recently achieved, or so you thought.

Everything has been so perfect since you met Kate.

One day, you bumped into each other, and since, you have been unable to pull apart. Your lives became entangled, creating a mess you didn't want to get rid of.

She gave you a reason to stay. Not only for her, but for yourself. She gave you something you have been missing all your life, something you couldn't find on your own — Hope. She gifted with you the most important thing in someone's life.

At first, you were staying because you wanted to read her next messages, because you were waiting for your next encounters, eager to see her smile and hear her laugh at least one more time.

But then, you stayed because you have learned how it felt to be loved, and seen. When you were by her side, it was as if everything became clear, and the future you have long refused to imagine, thinking that you would never live to see it, suddenly became a reality. One that was filled with the best this world had to offer, things that you always thought you didn't deserve.

And so you stayed.

The path to recovery hasn't been easy, but you made it, and thought that it was eventually behind you — You wanted it to be, because you felt ready to move on.

Until today.

Today, you are standing in the bathroom, seconds away from doing something wrong — Really wrong.

Today, your hands are gripping so tightly the rim of the porcelain basin that your knuckles are turning white, because you are scared of the things you might do if you free your hands.

Today, you can't let go of these ideas that poison your mind, you can't silence those vicious voices.

Today, you went back two years, and you are powerless again as you try to fight the same demons than the ones that used to haunt you. You have tried to ignore them, but instead of making them go away, it made them stronger.

Your breath is erratic, and your chest rising quickly, as you feel the panic rising up inside you. You are doing everything you can to ignore the aching feeling in your arms, fighting against yourself to not draw more blood out of them, to not break the promise you made yourself sixteen months ago — To never do it again. Ever. To prove them that you could be stronger than they thought, that you could be a lot more than just a disappointment, a failure.

You refuse to draw new lines along the old ones.

But your determination alone was not enough to save you from this situation, and you felt like you were merely postponing the inevitable. The whole day, you have tried to ignore these thoughts, but your mind was restless, and your thhoughts always returned, invitably, those dark scenarios.

You were consumed by this sense of hopelessness. It was blinding you, preventing you from seeing anything but the worst — What was the point of trying if you were doomed to fall back every time? There is nothing more frustrating than your inability to get better despite your attempts.

You want to be fine, more than anything, because Kate deserves the best, and because now that she is by your side, you are no longer sure you want to leave this life.

But when you look at yourself in the mirror, all you see is a girl that You have dark circles so pronounced that no amount of concealer could hide them. Your eyes were puffy, and red, because you spent most of your day crying in frustration.

But even the tears hasn't been enough to ease your mind, and you eventually ran out of them before you feel any better. On the contrary, it was even worse.

You wanted to cry, to get rid of the emotions that have settled in your body, those that were too much, but you couldn't, and nothing seemed to bring you comfort.

Your favorite food tasted strange, and the characters of your comfort were only getting on your nerves. Today, everything was too much, nothing felt right, and the things that were supposed to bring you comfort, only elicit cries of frustration for you.

You have tossed in bed most of the day, unable to rest, or to do anything else. And, as the hours went by, the thoughts you first tried to ignore, became obsessive. They looped in your mind, like a music that would play a little too loud, but that you couldn't stop.

You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn't hear when the door clicked, nor the footsteps that followed. Even when the woman swore, because her keys slipped out of her hands, you didn't react. Yet, usually you would have reprimanded her, shouting from the other end of the apartment.

But not today. Today it remained silent.

Yours ears were ringing, and you couldn't quite make the difference between the noises in your surroundings, and the things that were in your head. You were enveloped in a kind of mist that blended everything.

It was only when she entered the room that you realized she was home — Already? But you had so much to do, and barely time to do anything. She could not be home already, it is impossible.

Kate has been cautious, trying to not startle you because she noticed that you seemed.. absent. But, despite the gentleness of her gesture, you jumped when her hand came to rest on your shoulder.

A gesture that was supposed to be gentle, and tender, but which simply accentuated your confusion — She couldn't be home, not yet. She couldn't see the evidences of your inability. Yet, before you get a chance to say something, to try to find an excuse, the woman spoke.

"Love, what's wrong?" she whispered, the concern evident in her voice as she talks.

She is not asking if you are okay, already knowing that you would lie, brushing away the question. You always do this, you always tell her you are fine when you are not.

In addition, it seemed like an unnecessary question to ask. Even if she wasn't your girlfriend, she could have seen it, the sorrow on your face. It was written on every feature of your face — And that made her feel terrible.

It had been a long time since she has seen you in such a state, and in the past, the woman had hope that it would be the last every time because she couldn't stand to see your suffering. In these moments, Kate wished she could take it all, and replace your pained expression by a smile. But she can't work miracles. She is not a witch, only an archer, and her weapons were of no use to her in such a situation.

There was nothing she hated more than this feeling of helplessness. She is a hero. If she can save the world, if she can fight villain, then she should be able to make your demons go away — Right? What was the point of being strong, if she wasn't strong enough to help the only person that really matters?

But your problems couldn't be solved with a fist.

It was something invisible, something more vicious. A battle against yourself, and whatever dark thoughts the voices in your head came up with this time. It was a battle she couldn't fight for you, one you had to win on your own.

But you weren't sure you are strong enough to fight it, and you would rather run away — After all, it is your specialty, isn't it? You had this bad habit of burrying all the things you didn't want to feel deep down, where they could not bother you anymore — At least, until they eventually became too much to be kept hidden.

And that's exactly what you wanted to do, when Kate asked this question — "What's wrong?" The second the question crossed her lips, you wanted to answer it with a lie — "Nothing, I am fine."

But you knew better than to lie to Kate.

The woman is not dumb enough to believe anything else than the truth. She could already read the reasons for your torments on your face, and strange attitude.

Usually, when she comes home, you wait impatiently for her return, throwing yourself into her arms as soon as she walks through the door, and never you have hidden as you did today.

You were torn between two opposite needs, and while a part of you demanded that you remain strong, another part whispered to you to accept the comfort Kate was offering. You were craving for it, wanting nothing more than to throw yourself in her arms, but for that you needed to admit your weaknesses first, to share your darkest thoughts with her despite the fear that knotted your throat.

What if she leaves? One of the little voices says.

What if she eventually realizes that she deserves better? Someone that is not a complete mess. Someone she could build a future with.

But when she saw the tears in your eyes, when saw your hesitation to accept the comfort she was trying to provide, none of these thoughts crossed her mind, not even for an instant, because Kate could never see you as weak.

On the contrary, she was amazed by your strenght, and resilence, witnessing all the battles you have fought in silence, believing it was your burden, and only yours, to carry.

That is what was worrying Kate the most, your silences. She always made sure to keep an eye on you from afar, and even when you tought she was unaware of your mal-being, she was providing small, and almost invisible, acts of reassurance, waiting for the moment you would be ready to talk about it soon.

But she might have forgotten how stubborn you are.

When she came home that day, she feared that she had given you too much space, that she waited too long. The relief she felt when she saw you were fine came with the promise that she won't allow you to hide in silence anymore.

However, it seemed that you were eventually ready to accept a bit of the comfort the woman could provide. In fact, you came to the same conclusions — You waited too long, and it almost led you to make a big mistake.

When you walked up to her, the woman immediately opened her arms to you, a silent encouragement to chase away your last hesitations.

It is when you eventually find comfort in her embrace that your last barriers collapse, and then you can't hide your tears anymore. Your face may be burried into her neck, but she knows that you are crying. The woman does not need to see your face to reach this conclusion, your body being shaken by each of your loud sobs.

For the next few dozens of minutes, your cries are the only thing that break the silence. You desperately want to explain yourself, but you can't stop the tears long enough to say a few words — What could you say, anyway? How could you admit your darkest thoughts to the person you love the most?

You can't, because the urge not to worry her is surpassing all of your fears. You are ready to fight this battle alone, and to lose it alone, if it means not dragging the archer into it.

Kate is so gentle. She always finds time for you despite her hero obligations. She shows a patience with you that no one has ever shown before. She made you feel loved, and seen, even in the toughest moments.

Sometimes, you feel like you do not deserve her sweetness, the woman having given you more than you will ever be able to give her back — She gave you hope, a reason to stay, to try again.

She cradles you, pressing soft kisses on your forehead from time to time. Kate provides reassurance, but she doesn't try once to make your tears stop, or to force the words out of your mouth.

The archer simply waits.

She waits until your tears dry on their own, until you feel ready to speak, because that is not her decision to make.

But, when you eventually felt ready to pull away, and to leave the comfort of her embrace to meet her gaze, the words didn't come, still stuck in your knotted throat. You looked at her, your eyes puffy from your intense crying, and you really wanted to say something — you had to — and yet you remained silent.

Your thoughts were a mess that you couldn't make sense of, partially because of a headache, coupled with the excessive emotions you were feeling at the moment. Everything was so overwhelming, and you knew that, the second you would try to speak, you would cry again, and that's the last thing you want.

Fortunately, Kate seemed to understand your silent pleas for help. Of the entire evening, if she hasn't broached the subject again, waiting for you to do it first, she has been keeping an eye on you at all time — The woman was scared of what you might do in her back.

It is only later in the evening, when you were both in the living room, lying on the couch, that the words suddenly came back.

Kate was sitting with her legs crossed, and you were lying down with your head resting on her thigh. One of her hands was unconsciouly stroking your hair, a gesture that was enough to take all your worries away. You were supposed to watch a movie, but you weren't able to stay focused for more than a few minutes, your thoughts being louder that the voices of your comfort characters.

"I was thinking about harming myself," you bluntly admitted, and the woman didn't reply — not yet, because she could feel that you were not done, that more words wanted to escape your lips, but they were heavy, and not easy to pronounce.

The last thing she wanted was to pressure you, fearing that it would push you further into silence. However, despite her apparent lack of reaction, you can feel that the news trouble her, her hand halting its movement for a moment before resuming.

When you spoke, you were cautious, afraid that the woman would scream, but the anger never came to replace the tenderness of her gesture, and so, despite your initial hesitation, you eventually found the courage to continue your explanations.

"Earlier, in the bathroom, that is what was wrong," you explained further, "but I didn't do it, I promise," you immediately added, feeling a sudden need to justify yourself, probably because you didn't want Kate to worry too much. "It has been months since I last did it, and I haven't even thought about doing it since. But tonight, it was.. different.. and when I saw my old scars, I- I don't know, I felt so desperate. It is as if there is no point in trying, as if I could never get better, and these scars will always be there to remind me that I am a mess," you paused for a second before sharing the last few words that were on your mind, the hardest. "Tonight, I almost gave in to those urges," you said, eventually admitting the darkest thoughts that crossed your mind earlier that day.

"Love, you are not a mess," she whispers softly, trying to not show how touched she is by your confession. Kate has seen the scars before, but she never mentioned the subject, waiting for the day you would be comfortable enough to open up on your own. "Do you know what I see in these lines?" She asked, as her hand stop stroking your hair and move towards your arm, where she traces your scars with a tenderness that no one has ever shown you before.

You shake your head — No, you don't know.

"I see all your strenght," she softly answered the question, "because you've come a long way, and you did it on your own. You never gave up, even when the world was against you," she added, and that is when your gazes eventually met.

"What if next time I can't stop myself?" You mumbled the question after a silence of several minutes. You were hesitant, and your words were carrying all your fears.

"Then I'll be here to stop you," she promised, and her hands cupped your face, preventing you from looking away as she talks. "I won't let that happen, I will catch you before you hit rock bottom, and we'll get through this together as many times as it takes, okay?" She added, but despite the confidence in her voice, the woman is worried — What if you decide to remain silent once more, and she can't see the signs of your distress before it is too late? The thought that she might loose you was consuming her from the inside.

And you believed her, and every of her words, because when you looked in her eyes, you only saw the promise of a better future — You saw hope, and determination,something you have been desperatly lacking the past few days.

"I know it is bad," you confessed, "I know that I shouldn't do that, but.. you know, sometimes, it's.. the pain, it won't go away, and these voices won't shut up..," you took a break to take a deep breath that will give you the courage to go on.

You know the woman will tell you that you do not need to explain yourself, but you still feel like you need to, as if the explanations could make the situation less embarrasing.

The woman would never judge you for the things you have done when you were at you lowest, but some had in the past, and sometimes you could still hear their voices in the back of your mind. You were a disapointment to everyone. Everyone, but Kate. The archer was able to see past the darkness that stained your heart. She saw the person behind the pain, and gave you a chance to feel love.

"I don't want to go back to it, Kate," you said, almost begging, and she could see the tears that filled your eyes, she could hear the way your voice broke on the last words despite your attempt to stay strong.

"I know, baby, and I won't let you," she promised again, "we will figure it out together, you don't have to face it alone anymore, okay? I am here for you, now," she soflty said in your ear, right before she lays a comforting kiss on your forehead.

When she thinks about the things you had to endure in silence, about the ones the battle you fought alone, her heart breaks. She can't accept that you had no one to take care of you when you were at your lowest, and she is determined to make things different this time.

If the archer had to take a step back from saving the world to save you, she would not hesitate, not even for an instant — What was the point in being a hero if she couldn't save the only person that really matter, the one she loves?

"I am proud of you, for telling me," she later whispered, when you were already in bed, entangled in each other. She was holding you firmly in her arms, as if she was scared that you would disapear if she wasn't careful enough.

Kate was aware of how difficult it was for you to accept being vulnetable to others, and the praise meant more to you than she could have imagined when she said those words.

You knew that the next weeks wouldn't be easy, because healing never is. It was a constant battle against oneself. Yet, this time, you feel ready, and sure of yourself, because Kate is by your side. She said it, she promised it, and knowing that you wouldn't have to face your demons alone made them less scary.

She is your reason.

Your reason to stay, your light, your everything.

| MAIN MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES. | Thanks for reading! Do not hesitate to leave a comment if you appreciated the fic', and/or to reblog it to share with others. It only takes a few seconds, but it would mean a lot to me <3

[julieverne]

For @miz-chase

Booth paced the hallway. How to tell her? Bones was oblivious.

Booth ran her hands through her short hair and sighed. Military cut; she'd never really grown out of it. The military, or the hairstyle. It wasn't professional. Really, it wasn't. And she didn't care about that so much in the FBI; she'd lived through Don't Ask, Don't Tell.

Bones knew so much about people on her tables and so little about the people in her life.

"Booth. You're being very distracting."

That voice. Low and irritated. Flat and emotionless. Chastising and... amused?

Where did that come from?

It gave her hope. She knocked on the door to Bones' office, which was ridiculous because her office was a fishbowl; she was surrounded by glass. She took in a deep breath, watching as Bones made her irritated way to a door Booth could have opened for herself.

The mistletoe Booth had asked Angela to hang was in place, and it caught Bones' eyes as she huffed to a stop in front of Booth.

She looked confused, and Booth wanted to smooth her crumpled brow. She longed to scoop the broken scientist into her arms until she felt every feeling she'd ever repressed; all the abandonment and confusion, all the fear.

Booth looked up as though she'd just noticed. "Huh. Decorating?"

"No," Bones said, but her voice was curious. Booth had to head her off before she hunted down Angela, who would immediately spill the beans.

She grasped Bones' strong jaw, then let her palm cup Bones' cheek. She leaned down and saw Bones lean up out of some unknown instinct. Their lips met softly, and Bones softened against Booth, the stress of her day easing away. Booth held her gently, one arm on her back. She pulled away from the kiss and hugged Bones, feeling how soft and relaxed she was against her.

"Merry Christmas," Booth said as she tried to pull away, but Bones grasped her tighter, refusing to let go.

She waited patiently. She'd waited long enough for this moment; she wouldn't discard it now it had been offered.

Bones' face was wet when she pulled away, and Booth smoothed her fingers over Bones' cheeks, chasing down tears. She kissed Bones again, just to make sure Bones had enough information to process later.

"I have to go; Parker's with me tonight. He's with Rebecca tomorrow, though. So if you wanted to join us, or just me..."

She swallowed, her heart in her throat.

Bones had composed herself. She looked up at Booth with shining eyes, then past her at the mistletoe and her face closed down again.

"Merry Christmas," Bones said, confusion back on her face. Booth chuckled and used her hands on Bones' hips to move her away from the mistletoe before kissing her again. When she pulled away again, Bones' face was clear and full of understanding and relief. Her lips were softer than Booth could have imagined, and her smile was sweeter than it had ever been.

"I can come," Bones said, reaching behind her on her desk for her bag. She didn't even look behind her at her computer screen, at her open case. "I don't mind being alone for Christmas," she said as she locked her office behind her, "but I'd prefer to be alone with you."

With that she strode down the hall and Booth followed her with a bemused chuckle. She loved a woman who could speak her mind.

She loved Bones.

[ageofkarme]

When Karme first won the keys to the Athena's Hand, he developed a bit of a complex about his vessel. Between him knowing Lady Juliana would have rather given it to anyone else and suspecting that all who heard about it assumed the opposite and believed nepotism was at play, it wasn't until Beastbane's mission that Karme began to develop some real confidence as a pilot. True, around Vulcan's Vessel there were whispers and looks from the other Apprentices due to "someone like him" having the right to fly Lady Juliana's very first Skytrol-fueled airship, but Karme was getting over that in his own time. Again, a simple affirmation from Polaris made all the difference.   "It is! And it's a lot of fun too! One day, I'm going to get to fly it alongside a dragon. My friend promised me and elvhen can't lie so it's going to happen! Before that though, I do have to modify it to have a grabby-hand or a large basket or something. Harold—that's another friend of mine—will probably need to climb aboard eventually. Now, I could just use a spell to make him smaller, but I think because his companion is a scary witcher he'll keep thinking I'm a snack if I use magic on him. I want to be able to pet him without getting swallowed, so if I can figure this addition out it may endear him to me. I won Torty over—another friend and practically a best friend now—with the best handjob I've ever given, but that won't work for Harold. Really, I want to be able to have all my friends and my boys riding with me to some fun adventure. If I can't use my tools to protect and have fun with the people I care about then what's the point of having them?" Wow, Karme really did have a lot of friends now didn't he? He couldn't be happier.   Luckily for him, Polaris was certainly not in the friend category, especially not after those kisses they shared. He felt seen, desired, and taken seriously by the other, so much so that even a brief peck made his heart flutter. Karme tried to hide his enamorment as best he could because he loathed the idea of just being friends with Polaris, but it bubbled up in small ways he couldn't help. From the rosy color of his cheeks when he acted like he wasn't staring at how handsome Polaris was to the tiny jig his feet did when the elvhen squeezed his hand. Karme was happy, and not because he got to make out and hold hands with probably the most attractive man he'd ever met, but because he got to do so while being himself. Polaris let him be himself, without shame or ridicule. That honestly meant the world to Karme because he liked and admired Polaris so much.   "I don’t know. I've been ratcheting parts together for as long as I can remember, but that may be a Genovian thing." Karme never wished to belong to another family, no matter how badly his house made him feel. He'd like to think he'd always have become an Olympian, but would he have chosen a different patron had the pattern twisted in another direction? "I think … I think I was born to create. Even if I was born to another family, I'd like to think I would've ended up an Apprentice no matter what. Because if that was true, it'd mean I was right about myself. There's something only I can make, I just have to take my time and figure out what that is," he shares with a smile. Karme liked the sound of his own words so much that he started to beam at Polaris. "Is it like that for you? Honestly, I could see you having become a diplomat or even a performer! How did you choose sculpting in The Harmonium, and do you think you'd have chosen a non-bardic path if born under different circumstances?"

"I'll keep that in mind, that ship of yours is convenient." In times like these having an expedient means of getting around the continent was a rare luxury.

Intrusively Polaris's thoughts drifted momentarily to the notion that they might test the parameters of what noise this box could muffle. When this place was his he'd repurpose the largest of them and instill whatever wards were necessary - that was a modification he could lean on Karme for at a later date. Until then he'd let his mind's eye entertain the course that throbbed at the back of his mind: watery eyes, warmth, and wet with the tender bristle of Karme's soft, brown hair threaded between Polaris's fingers.

Polaris leaned in as Karme stood beside him and punctuated the departing thought with a soft press of his lips against Karme's. Chaste, just as the other's had been. "That's going to change someday."

The crisp, open night air brought a welcome sense of sobriety. Even as it teetered toward the later hours, the city felt alive in every way. The bustling, relentless streets harkened evening hours as the distant murmur of the crowds moving through Mercury's Bazaar drifted to the exterior of the Comedy Keep.

Polaris's fingers remained entwined with Karme's, hand in hand, Polaris gave the other an affirming squeeze before he led the way.

"Did you always want to be an inventor?" That was the best way that Polaris could define it: sorcerer and artificer felt hollow but the question scratched at something inherently curious at the back of the dragon's mind. Understanding was one of several of his goals and while they'd had their share of distractions tonight, Polaris was looking forward to getting to know Karme more intimately. Polaris could've also guessed that any Chrystanthos would be pushed toward the industry by some measure, even if it was active discouragement. "Could you say this was the path you'd have chosen if you were born into a different family?"

[wereshrew-admirer]

marrow creek

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent images I suppose ~