#i go into hibernation every winter for some reason | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovieku · 2 months ago

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INTRO ⋆ 정국

you’re jeongguk’s secret santa this year, so you give him the best gift he’ll ever receive.

⋆⁺₊❅. 1/6 from christmas & chill

pairing virgin!jk x fem reader

genre smut, fluff, friends to lovers, first time

warnings painfully oblivious jk, even more painfully oblivious oc, mutual pining unlike anything you’ve seen, jk being a hot nerd ceo who’s loaded rich and unaware of his potential, please imagine him as nam joohyuk in start up, oc just creaming her pants for jk, hand job, lowk strip tease, dry humping, nipple play (m&f), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, jk is so needy and impatient but also very polite, smut is kinda rushed because well… it’s his first time! sawrry! also i open gifts on xmas eve please don’t come for me and my traditions (it’s lich just because i’m impatient)

word count 8.3k

author’s note hello hello hello!!! i’m so nervy to post this because it’s what finally inaugurates c&c!!!! i hope it can be a pleasing (intro)duction to the series hehe… either way you’ll get something totally better from miss lyssa tomorrow so stay tuned Wink 🩷 luv u always

banner by the talented @awrkive ⟡ ݁₊ .

Secret Santas have become the only way you’ve been able to deal with Christmas. When it comes to gift-giving, you’re embarrassed to admit that creativity in that department doesn’t exactly come naturally to you.

You try your best, truly. But you either end up going over budget, striving to please all your loved ones with unnecessarily expensive gifts which will only leave you with empty hands and an empty wallet, or having your brain completely stop working, if not to come up with the most basic and useless options that will get you forced smiles and polite nods in fake recognition.

It’s exhausting, demoralizing, and frankly, a recipe for holiday burnout.

So when two years ago, on the brink of giving up entirely and seriously contemplating hibernating through winter, your dear friend Jimin swooped in and suggested Secret Santa, it completely reshaped your next Christmases.

Exactly a month before Christmas Eve, you reunite over drinks and food at Jeongguk’s house to draw names. His place always ends up as the default spot for dinners, movie nights, or even football matches. Those don’t usually get the attention of everybody, especially of some of the girls, and it wouldn’t get yours either.

But you never skip game night. Correction, you never miss an excuse to be in Jeongguk’s space, even if it means sitting through 90 minutes of men chasing a ball on a screen. After all, you’re never truly paying attention, always stealing glances at the boy who seems almost even more uninterested than you.

It’s about witnessing him in his house— which, truthfully, is more of a mansion. The spacious, cozy interiors mirror a part of him that’s hard to miss: his perfectionist side, the one that likes to keep things understated but can’t help leaving subtle, telling marks of his presence on everything he touches, is woven into every corner.

Over time, you’ve naturally come to associate the place with holidays, laughter, and celebrations that fill you with a sense of belonging. Being here, surrounded by your closest friend, makes you feel profoundly grateful.

And there’s so many traces of you all, too. The faint wine stain on Jeongguk’s carpet that is only still noticeable if you squint, the one that spilled from your glass when Hoseok’s jokes had you laughing too hard; the long, slim scratch on the kitchen door, courtesy of Eunbi, who thought learning how to balance glasses on her forehead would get one of her coworkers to finally fall for her; the wobbly vase on the coffee table that was knocked over during one of Jimin’s overly enthusiastic attempts to kick a water bottle open.

Watching Jeongguk deal with the chaos you all force into his space might be another big reason why you love being here. It seems to squeeze out his most genuine reactions and quirks, and you can’t help biting your lips at those, almost pornographically so.

For someone who works so hard to appear composed, and who’s also extremely shy and reserved, Jeongguk is hilariously transparent when things don’t go his way. Brows furrowed, as if that’s where he keeps all his control. Although, no matter how flustered he gets, Jeongguk almost never gets choleric. His instinct is never to lash out but to scramble, a picture of barely contained stress insisting that everything is fine.

And the more he insists, the more you find yourself wishing it wasn’t fine. Sometimes, you want to see him lose it— especially at you.

You’ve tried, too. You’ve pushed boundaries, done little things to test the limits of his patience, all for the slim possibility of seeing him crack, just for you. But it never works. The best you get is an awkward smile, maybe a quiet laugh. It’s not nothing, but it’s not what you want, either.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this crazy about someone before. Not in the way where everything he does sends your brain spinning with possibilities. It’s maddening. His obliviousness is maddening.

Chiefly tonight, when you’re trying extra hard to keep it under control, the whole group gathering in a circle around the bowl that holds all your names, each one carefully folded into a little square, waiting to be drawn.

But when your slim fingers brush against one of the many crumpled pieces of paper and decide your fate, you send a small prayer to whoever might be listening. Please, don’t let it be Jeongguk.

It doesn’t really come off as a coherent request, especially considering how much your body has betrayed you tonight. Your thighs have been pressing together most of the evening, a subconscious reaction every time your gaze wandered — lingered — on Jeongguk’s lower half. Those low, slouchy grey sweatpants, hanging effortlessly off his narrow hips, have been the source of many inappropriate thoughts that you wish would make you grow some shame within yourself. Instead, they only make you grow hotter in your seat.

No, you would love to be Jeongguk’s Secret Santa with the blatant, embarrassingly huge crush you have on him. You think you’d be happy about it in any other universe, except this one.

Jeongguk is difficult. And not because he’s ever been argumentative, looking to start quarrels, never willing to agree or see past his nose. He’s far from those. He’s one of the easiest people to be around, rarely judgmental, even when you were drunk off your mind and you jokingly grinded on very-gay Jimin to make up for your lack of sexual activity. On those occasions, you didn't exactly see judgement in his eyes. Just reticence. Maybe. It wasn’t clear.

What is clear is that Jeongguk is incredibly particular. He’s picky about what he likes and even more so about what he doesn’t, though dislike might be too soft a word. When he hates something, it’s impossible not to know. He doesn’t even try to mask his disappointment.

It’s not malicious, of course. He’s not the type to be spiteful. It’s just how he is, an open book, his expressions giving him away without fail.

It’s one of the many reasons you love watching him, other than hoping your eyes would telepathically convey your undying desire to fuck him and cuddle him close to your chest afterwards. But most of the time, studying the shifts in his features is a way for you to decipher what he’s thinking.

And that’s why this moment feels so high-stakes. The last thing you want is to be on the receiving end of one of Jeongguk’s polite smiles or barely-there nods of acknowledgment, the kind he gives when he’s unimpressed. It would crush you, the ultimate failure in your short-lived career as a gift-giver.

It’s not just that he’s hard to please. Jeongguk is also the last person who seems to need anything. He’s loaded, his success as a game developer has afforded him a life where anything he wants is within reach. And yet, despite his wealth, there’s no arrogance about him. If you didn’t know him so well, you might think he was just another college student scraping by.

Who else but Jeon Jeongguk could walk around in a hoodie and square glasses, looking like he just rolled out of bed, while being the CEO of his own company?

But, of course, none of this is important. Because as you unfold the piece of paper in your hand, it’s there. Jeongguk.

You don’t think you enjoy Secret Santa as much anymore.

With the bowl continuing its journey around the circle, you spend the rest of the game staring holes into the back of Jeongguk’s head, desperately trying to figure out what in the world you could possibly get him. Your monthly budget feels laughable in comparison to his lifestyle, but you’re already prepared to go way over it if that’s what it takes to impress him.

You wonder if he’s as insecure as you are when he quietly unfolds the small, paper square he picked up and scans the name. His bug eyed expression doesn’t hide an evident surprise, the twitch of his eyebrows managing to conceal a possible disappointment.

For someone who’s usually so easy to read, Jeongguk seems uncharacteristically guarded in this moment, and it drives you crazy. You squint at him, frowning as you try to decipher any small detail on his face. Is he annoyed? Or worse, completely indifferent?

Either way, it doesn’t look like a positive reaction. If it ends up being you, you’ll rethink back to this moment and cry yourself to sleep.

With the first step out of the way, the night goes on following its usual rhythm. Only by the end of it, Jeongguk’s space starting to empty, you quietly help him put some order to the mess left behind by a too drunk Hoseok paired with his too drunk best friend Taehyung.

You keep yourself busy with storing some leftover food, managing to keep your tone unbothered when you ask, “Hey, Gguk. Wanna help me with the party planning this year?”

Always obliging to your every request, he only stutters slightly in his movements, the glasses he was cleaning clinking together. He clears his throat, “S—sure. I’ll help you, goldie.” The stammer doesn’t seem to be caused by any kind of hesitation, just an usual consequence to his nature. Reserved, quiet.

You nod, gulping way too loudly at the special nickname he has for you, and both of you keep your focus on your doings instead of witnessing the faint blush dusting your cheeks, “Cool. I’ll text you the details tomorrow.”

Details texted, your efforts to divert the conversation into something remotely playful failed miserably. Jeongguk is painfully formal, methodical as ever, hyper-focused on the party. When you sent him a TikTok you deemed adorable enough to nudge him toward a different matter, maybe hint at the dog being the cutest thing he’s ever seen and that you two should definitely adopt three of them and move in together, he still doesn’t get it.

gguk🤍: Oh… I asked my brother to keep Bam for Christmas Eve. I thought he would be too much of a hassle, especially with Iseul not being fond of dogs.

You had stared at the ceiling for a long moment after reading that text. Jeongguk is endearingly dense, and you don’t mind it most of the time. But it’s starting to cause quiet bursts of frustration when it comes to whatever undefined thing you two have, and what is clearly simmering for the eyes of everybody to see, except his.

You’d thought giving him his first handjob when he quietly confessed he’s never been touched, his voice a tremble in the calm aftermath of a chaotic group sleepover, would be enough to make him see. His quiet whimpers were hypnotizing calls that only you were meant to hear, and your fist pumping his girthy length with intent was speaking all you were afraid to voice.

Jeongguk came hard and unannounced all over your hand, pleasured sounds muffled in the side of your neck, and you’d assured him it was okay; he did good; that you would get something to clean him up. You didn’t sleep that night, and he didn’t either, spending the rest of it next to each other on his couch talking pointless conversation.

If that hadn’t opened his eyes, you were beginning to wonder what would.

“So… Do you have any idea what to gift your person?”

Jeongguk stirs his latte for the fourth time. You’d decided to meet at a café halfway between your cramped flat and his mansion, because it was the easiest way you managed to make your busy schedules merge.

“No, Gguk,” you acknowledge his question without meeting his eyes, focusing on the grocery list on your laptop instead.

What would? You’re starting to think subtlety isn’t cutting it. Maybe it never has. Perhaps the only way to break through that frustratingly thick skull of his is to go full throttle, strip naked right here in the middle of this café and spell it out for him.

Your eye involuntary twitches at the thought in relation to his question. Crazy Christmas gift, you reason as you stare maniacally at your bright screen. Yeah. Totally crazy.

Shaking your head, you can’t resist glancing up at him. The idea doesn’t seem so irrational anymore, not when your insides twist at the sight of his absorbed expression, his brows furrowed as he scribbles out unheard-of maths on a piece of paper to figure out group expenses.

With your chin resting in the palm of your hand, you abandon your pretense of being productive and let yourself watch him work. A teasing lilt slips into your voice as you prod him in your usual way, “Why should I believe you already don’t know who it is?”

He blinks up at you, promptly, like he always does when you speak to him, and he stumbles, “Huh— I don’t—”

“You so do. You probably already guessed it all with your nerdy brain.”

Despite looking mildly offended, his ears turn red anyway, “Nerdy brain—”

“Glasses look cute on you,” that shuts him up; his mouth, his brain. Completely unable to cater to any of their functions.

You smirk at the way he diverts his gaze, pointer finger unconsciously fixing the specs on the bridge of his nose, and you wonder how much longer it’ll take for him to notice that you don’t just go around calling everyone’s glasses cute.

Sighing, you continue, “Anyways. It’s not you.”

“W—what? Is it really not?” When he looks up at you with even wider eyes, you feel bad for lying to him but you still shake your head. He mutters, “Shoot. I was so sure I had it.”

A playful scoff escapes you, “See! You did sit in your nerdy room and tried to guess!”

“Stop calling me a nerd,” it’s a request grumbled in the most adorable way you’ve heard, and there’s no real heat behind it. Especially when he goes back to be exactly what he doesn’t want you to refer to him as, “Well, if it’s not me, it must be Taehyung.”

You pretend to busy yourself with your touchpad as you ponder on his eagerness. Then, you voice the result, “What’s the fun in knowing right now?”

Jeongguk hesitates for a moment too long before admitting, “I don’t know. I guess it makes me less anxious.”

It’s a raw kind of honesty, much like what he was painted all over with when he came from your touch, and it has you shifting your gaze back on him, now absorbed in doodling stylized portraits of Bam right next to numbers and additions.

You don’t know if it’s the hot chocolate still simmering in your tummy, the warmth from the coat laying on your legs, the café’s natural heat or Jeongguk’s proximity, but you buzz with something homely.

Ariana Grande’s version of Last Christmas replays for the third time in a row, and at this point you’re starting to believe it’s a conscious choice, but you don’t mind it.

Jeongguk belongs to the world the soft melody is building, hugged by a woolen white sweater, the wide glass window behind him giving the perfect view to a classic winter scenery, snow softly resting on any surface it finds and unconsciously bringing magic to dullness. Or maybe it’s just him adding that last bit.

You smile at his small confession, reassuring with your tone, almost drowning in the lively chatter of the place surrounding you, “You don’t have to be.”

Jeongguk only nods, tapping the pencil on his temple as he studies what he has so far with sudden doubt. He looks at your laptop, scanning the long forgotten visual board on your Pinterest, then back to his calculations.

Giving one more glance at the screen, he concludes, “By the way, I really don’t think that color would look good in my living room.”

Ugh.

You think you want to strangle him when he deflects so easily from these moments. And mostly, the burgundy he’s so easily refusing happens to be one of your favorite shades. Do your tastes ever match?

God, as much as you want him, you hope he’s not your Secret Santa.

────⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆────

Jeongguk is your Secret Santa.

And on Christmas Eve, he’s pacing the length of his living room back and forth, his socks brushing against the polished wooden floor with each step. You’re supposed to arrive any minute now to help him with the final touches before the others come for dinner, and the idea of having you here alone is enough to make his hands clammy and his thoughts stumble.

The neatly wrapped gift with its shiny red paper sits tucked under the towering Christmas tree, the one adorned in messy decor that his friends jumbled up together. The item hidden inside the bag doesn’t share his anxieties, though he suspects his downstairs neighbour might have caught on to it with the incessant pacing.

When you ring the doorbell he’s jolted out of it and, practically tripping over his own feet, he rushes to the door and yanks it open. He would have let you in just as rapidly if his brain didn’t stop short at seeing you standing there.

You’re cladded in a soft sweater that looks two sizes larger, its beige tones complimenting the warm brown of his own jumper, and your short skirt peeks out beneath its hem, edged with lace ruffles. At your feet, a pair of chestnut Uggs that he can only hope are enough to make up for the cold shivers on your bare legs. Not that he’s staring, so intently he has to gulp down an impulsive thought. No, he’s just a naturally observing guy.

And that brings him to notice that your hands are empty, save for a small purse and a bottle of wine. No bag, no box, no sign of a gift.

When his gaze flickers back to your face, your eyes are wide and darting nervously between his own, narrowed by the frown that he can’t quite hide but bug sized the moment he catches a trace of insecurity in your shaky voice, “Hi.”

It could be the cold causing the brief greeting to tremble, small snowflakes laying on your neatly styled hair, shimmering for a brief moment before melting away. It pulls him out from his unabashed study of you, and he steps aside to let you into his much warmer space.

Your vanilla scent inebriating his senses has him forgetting all about your seemingly non existent gift, and how he suddenly finds himself wishing he truly did get something messed up in his calculations, that you’re not his Secret Santa.

But you are.

Many drinks later, filling up everyone’s stomachs along with shared food and belly laughter, it’s time to exchange gifts and the expression on your face is unlikely anything he’s caught on so far.

A huge contrast to the mellow Christmas tunes indistinctly playing in the background, your eyes are impassive as you word your excuses, “I’m sorry, Gguk. I forgot your gift at home.”

“Oh. It’s okay,” he says quickly, the words spilling out with genuine ease. And it really is okay. He’s not upset— far from it. The thought of you giving him anything at all, even belatedly, is enough to make him feel content.

But now, as the group’s attention turns toward him, his heart races for an entirely different reason. His gift for you, a lavish, over-the-top gesture that far exceeds the modest budget they all agreed on, sits waiting on his lap.

When it finds a new home atop your own crossed legs, you’re eager as you rip the paper, but your eyes don’t follow your movements. Instead, you focus on the nervous boy sitting across from you, your very own Secret Santa who’s monitoring your hands for you while subtly rocking from one side to the other.

His anxiety is endearingly soft, but you can see something more to it, almost an irrational fear of tripping on the wrong step, messing up something that’s supposed to be simple.

You hear it before you see it. The whole room inhales sharply in a collective surprise, with some gasps muffled behind hands pressed to mouths. You scramble for an explanation in their expressions, jumping from one face to the other, stopping on Jeongguk’s own, gaze glued to his fidgeting fingers, head bowed down to his lap.

When you slowly look down at what’s resting on yours, you almost wheeze. If they could, your eyes would leap out of their sockets.

Your palm instinctively presses on your lips as you look between the gift and the gifter in a frantic attempt to catch any sign that this is not what it is. With the music being the only sound eerily filling the sudden silence, you add to it, even if barely, with your voice a whisper, “What is this?”

Jeongguk gulps and finally meets you, “It’s m—my gift for you.”

It’s not like you even opened it yet. But the simple sight of the box had you grasping for support. On the pale, textured surface of the square box, the unmistakable gold lettering is what’s making your orbs shake in confusion: Dior.

You trace the sign with your pointed finger, tilting your head up to look at Jeongguk through your lashes, and you don’t know how else to put it, “Ggukkie… Were you there when we set the budget?”

Jimin butts in with a scoff, “Yeah, that’s like fifteen thousand won multiplied by another fifty thousand.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what he should say. He’s scared of the deafening silence that follows, the way Jimin’s comment seems to linger in the air, the way you seem to struggle with finding something to say in response.

He begins, tries to, “I—”

“Fuck, Gguk,” the simple sound of your words has his mind spiralling, palms clammy with doubts that question his every choice leading up to this moment, feeling foolish for even thinking this could be right, a shot worth trying. What if you think he’s showing off? Or worse, overcompensating?

But what he fails to notice is the toothy grin that follows your shameless surprise, your fingers gingerly lifting the lid of the box, and really, if only he had the courage to look up at you he’d have avoided the worries.

He misses your reaction at the reveal: the prettiest earrings sit on a soft cushion, gleaming gold with delicate CD initials and cream pearls dangling gracefully beneath them.

“These are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. I love them. You didn’t have to.”

Jeongguk’s head snaps up. He meets your face painted with the most beautiful grin he’s ever seen you wear, your cheeks burning with red and your nose scrunching as you carefully slip the earrings to take a better look at them. With you, everybody else around him seems in awe, too. Their soft, endeared whispers begin to fill the earlier suffocating silence, melting into a sweetness reserved entirely for Jeongguk.

He exhales quietly, the welcomed warmth in his chest replacing the cold. He admits, no stutter, no fear, just a sheepish smile, “I wanted to.”

Jeongguk really did want to. It felt like his one shot. A desperate, last-ditch attempt at making you see him the way he’s always seen you; a declaration wrapped in gold and pearls.

He wants you to see him as more than the shy, awkward boy who stumbles over his words and blushes too easily. More than the nerd who spends too much time working on equations and codes half the world doesn’t know about. More, just to have you look at him a bit closer.

He wants to be a man, one who badly wants you, in your eyes.

They’re gleaming with adorable excitement as they flicker back to his, sheepishly accompanying your quiet request, “Can you… put them on for me?”

Jeongguk is at your side in no time, handling the earrings with care while trying to keep his usual clumsiness at bay as he fastens the dainty jewels in place. He begins to understand why it’s hard to see him as anything else but gawky when he feels his heartbeat speed up from the simple way his skin is brushing against yours.

Namjoon’s voice cuts through the spell, playful, “Oh, what a pretty princess. Jeongguk truly has an eye for this stuff.”

With the group following with chuckles and mindless banter, Jeongguk feels uncharacteristically bold, gaze fixated entirely on you as he lets himself spill something meant for you only to hear, “I think it’s just you. You’re beautiful.”

You’re clearly caught off guard, and it stings a little when he realizes the only reason he doesn’t get to see you this flustered often is because he’s usually busy being the flustered one. Blinking up at him through your lashes, your laugh comes out a little breathless, and the sweet way you let your cheek rest on your shoulder has him daring to hope.

“Nerd.”

But no. There it is again.

That’s all he’ll ever be in your eyes.

He forces a smile that barely reaches his eyes, but you’re too engrossed with having your pearls admired by the rest of the group to notice. Those weren’t a waste; he would do it all the same. You deserve everything that makes your eyes shine, that brings the corners of your lips into that grin that shakes him, that can ever bring you joy. He just wishes it could bring you more than that; bring you to a bigger sentiment, a bigger realization.

Perhaps that’s why he can’t shake off the awful mood that pervades his senses throughout the rest of the night, the earrings hanging from your ears catching the twinkly, warm lights and mocking him with delighted amusement. There’s nothing else you can do, you nerdy boy.

Perhaps that’s also why, when the house starts to empty and you’re in his kitchen making yourself helpful with dishes, he slips on composure when you accidentally let a glass slide from your dainty hands.

It breaks the moment it meets the ground, and the sound penetrates his ears, both of you jumping at the impact. He hisses, “What— what the heck, ___!”

You’re startled, blinking up at him. It’s not the chaos from the glass, not its tiny pieces covering the floor and reaching your feet. It’s the deliberate frustration of his tone, one he’s never let free, especially with you.

You pant for apologies, but they can’t seem to be let out. Wide eyes jumping between his own bug ones, your brows draw up in shame. It has never been this easy to get him bothered. Hell, you’ve even struggled to.

Jeongguk only sighs, dragging a hand across his nape, and he regrets the quiet sharpness in his voice the second he lets it out, “God. Be more careful next time.”

He’s still quicker than you on his feet, moving to sweep the mess you’ve created before you can even react. You seem to move in slow, infinite motions, kneeling down to pick up the bigger pieces, all while keeping an unusual silence.

He steals a glance up at you, biting his lower pierced lip in sudden guilt, “Are you okay?”

Your hands pause, clutching a fragment of glass as your eyes flicker up to meet his. You nod, distant, and it does nothing to convince him.

He doesn’t even seem to be paying attention to your hesitant confirmation, rather he’s hyper-focused on your fingers, and before you realize the shift in his expression, he alarmedly blurts out, “Goldie. You’re bleeding.”

The sting barely registers for you until his words bring it to your attention. Looking down, you see a sharp, red line running across your finger, small but enough to make Jeongguk spring into action.

You’re lifted off the floor and ushered to the bathroom in fractions of seconds, letting yourself be handled like you don’t own your body. The only thing you want to be aware of is the switch in his behaviour. He’s back to normal once he’s in his quiet bubble of concentration, movements precise as he cleans the barely visible wound and carefully places a band aid over it.

All while he can’t stop apologizing, “I’m sorry for yelling at you. That was not your fault. But, this. This is my fa—”

“Jeongguk, it’s just a scratch.”

The way he meets your eyes with his face drawn tight and brows furrowed makes you rethink your statement. Maybe it’s more than a scratch. Maybe it’s the only thing that snapped him out of his frustrated daze.

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t deserve that.”

Your first instinct is to giggle; it’s a resonance of the butterflies childishly swarming in your belly from the proximity and his careful words. Both your gazes soften as you accept each other, even the faulted versions of tonight, and a timid smile stretches over his lips.

You hesitate before speaking again, your mouth opening only to close, reconsidering your words; but then you finally let out what you had foolishly planned as your next desperate attempt to cling to him.

“Can you… My car is… Can you take me home?”

What you’re now sure you like the most about Jeongguk is how he caters to your needs before you even have to voice them. The soft kindness in his eyes, the way his body instinctively shifts to act before his mind even fully processes the request. He’s already nodding, ready to make it happen for you.

“Yeah. Of course.”

The heat in his car fans over your cheeks, dusting them with a soft red that has his Adam’s apple bobbing every time he turns to steal glances at you at stoplights. You keep talking, filling the air with contentment about the night’s events, and it’s like that subtle slip of his never happened.

It’s almost too easy to surrender and pretend that everything is fine, that he doesn’t feel the ache of wanting more. If staying a nerd in your eyes means getting to be this close, to hear your laughter, to see the slight curve of your lips as you speak, then maybe it’s enough.

His subtle gestures — adjusting the temperature so you’re comfortable, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter when your giggles spill into the cabin — don’t go unnoticed. They settle into you and have your heart beating anticipatedly.

God, you won’t regret what you’re about to do.

By the time he pulls up in front of your place, you promptly turn to him before he can offer anything else, voice a bit too eager, “Would you like to come inside?”

“Huh—”

“I’ll show you my gift.”

Jeongguk sits on your couch, because you tell him to wait there. And of course, he’s a great listener. Very obedient, willing to follow your every order.

His fingertips drum restlessly on his thighs and he can only busy himself with his surroundings, every detail speaking for you. What’s definitely more prominent is the intoxicating scent of vanilla that clings in the air, of which he hopes his lungs inhale the entirety of, never getting enough of everything that is you.

When you come into his vision again, walking down the stairs in quiet steps, you’re tightly hugged in a trench coat, the textured belt cinched snugly around you and accentuating the small of your waist. Under it, your legs are bare. It has his mouth drying and his legs spreading stiffly on the couch.

He thought he got better at hiding his concerning infatuation. He hopes he did.

That’s why he initially manages to chuckle and attempt a joke, “Are you going somew—”

“Ta-da.”

Jeongguk doesn’t think he’s breathing. He doesn’t think he can even breathe anymore. His blinking fastens, brain stumbling over itself as it tries to make sense of what he’s sitting in front of.

You’ve loosened the coat just enough for the fabric to fall and reveal what you’ve carefully wrapped for him. You’re a gift coming in a red lingerie set clinging to your perfect curves, your boobs deliciously spilling out from the sides of your lace top and the line of your panties thin enough to leave little to the imagination.

He pants, scanning over your body once, twice, three times, questioning if the wine was perhaps laced with stronger substances, “What— What is this—”

“It’s my gift for you. Merry Christmas, Gguk.”

Meeting your face again, he nearly groans. You’re almost bare before him, yet you still sport a crimson blush and your teeth graze your bottom lip in a sheepish smile, in a way that is so achingly you. He can feel himself throbbing painfully in his pants. Thinks he could cum just from this view, tip over the edge without a single touch, no matter how bad he needs it.

“Fuck.”

You’ve barely ever heard Jeongguk curse throughout the time you’ve known him for. He only sometimes reserves that for his monitor, Overwatch games causing his composure to slip in adorable loud whispers.

But it’s like you’ve broken his dam, and he only lets more slip as you walk slowly but certainly closer to him, coat discarded on the floor, “Oh my, fuck. Holy shit. Thank you. Thank you. I— I don’t know what to do.”

It’s a quiet plea, the one that’s hidden in his strained words but clear in his full eyes glazed over with anticipation, his hands hovering uncertainly over his thighs, chest still heaving and struggling with manual breathing. He’s begging to feel deserving of this, to have you prove to him that it’s what you truly want for the both of you, to have you touching him and to be touching you.

He can’t help the moan that escapes him when you position yourself in between his spread legs, bodies close yet not touching, but he’s dying to feel you.

Now your turn to bend at his every request, your head tilts and your smile widens the more he’s forced to crane his neck up to keep your gazes connected, pending off your every syllable, “You don’t have to do anything. Will you let me take care of you?

“Yes, please,” the confirmation is immediate and empty of hesitance. Under you, Jeongguk nods promptly with his lips agape, watering with want when you straddle his lap to sit yourself on him.

He wails, throwing his head back and searching for all the strength it takes from holding back his instinct to snap up against your core, snuggled atop his raging hardness. At his shameless desperation, your giggles fill his ears, and when they’re followed by your cold hand on his cheek redirecting his gaze on yours, he feels feverish.

Delirious, eyes barely keeping from rolling back, his brain reduced to senseless blabbering, “My God. Thank you for this.”

With his brows adorably drawn up, he focuses on your dilated pupils now that your faces are mere centimetres apart, and you close the distance with small pecks that trace his jaw, up to his ear lobe, whispering against the skin, “Are you seriously thanking God while I’m about to take your virginity?

Jeongguk hisses in a frenzied surge, his hands still unsurely keeping from touching you, and your sarcastic pun has him full on rambling, “Shit, sorry. I don’t even believe in God. This just feels too good to be true. You look like a fucking angel.”

“Ggukkie, language!” Your seductive tone along with your chuckle reverberates right against his chest, your hands moving to lead your own palms up and down his broad front, and when you subtly roll your hips against his clothed length, he breaks into a cry.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’ll come so soon,” you don’t know if it’s the adrenaline of the moment, but you’ve never witnessed such a bold Jeongguk. It only spurs you further, your hand traveling down, and down, until it sneaks under his sweater.

When you find his nipple, you playfully roll it between your pointer and thumb, his trembling body bucking up in an unstoppable urge, quiet whimpers working to keep his tone down. But you want to hear him scream under you, just as loud as you can feel his heart beating.

You bite your lip as your eyes drift downward, watching where your bodies meet in slow, teasing drags. His wide palms press into the cushions on either side of you, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip, and when you lift your gaze to meet his face again the delicious buzz pooling low in your stomach intensifies, your lips parting instinctively. A pretty blush creeps up his neck, painting his sharp jaw and cheekbones in shades of red, and his eyes, clouded, desperate, and burning with unfiltered need, lock onto you with a gaze that makes your knees weak even as you straddle him.

The simple grinding through the layers of clothing you still have on has you releasing whiny gasps in the air, his cock sliding torturously between your folds, and if you’re so affected by every shift you can hardly fathom what he must be feeling under you.

So you wonder out loud, voice rough the more you feel his stiff nipple under your fingertips, “How long since you’ve been touched properly, hm?”

His body hiccups, shaking with the barely contained lust, “Since— Since you last did, goldie.”

You coo, slowing down your movements and bringing your fingers to the hem of his jumper only to lift it and toss it behind you carelessly, “You’re so sensitive, aren't you?” At the view of his exposed chest, you can’t help roaming the expanse of it and feeling the tensing muscles under your skin, and by now you’re sure your panties must be ruined.

“Puh— please,” the plea is barely coherent, whispered out messily through high-pitched moans, but he begs again, “I wanna touch you too.”

“Then…” You let your hands speak for you, moving them to lead his own big ones to rest at your thighs, letting them drag up the curve of your ass. You’re impossibly close to his lips now, fanning against them, “Feel me, Gguk.”

Unable to resist, you fall forward and catch his mouth with yours in a kiss that struggles to find a rhythm, that has your tongues tangled in an uncoordinated dance, but that inevitably has you both humming loudly in an effort to almost devour each other, and his hands digging in your bare skin only force a gasp out of you.

In an impatient rush, you urge him to unclasp your bra, his unpractised and shaky fingers being joined by your experienced ones to finally free you from the tight confines, and as much as he wants to make kissing you a sport just to win every gold medal and break record after record, he can’t help separating from your lips with a wet sound to look down at your exposed breasts.

Jeongguk groans, and this time he doesn’t need you guiding him. It’s his own palms moving to cup you, and the innocent, light feather touch causes you to throw your head back and resume your slow grinding on top of him.

Both of you are panting messes, his moans significantly louder the more he gets to knead at your softness only to slice his thumb over your hardened nipples, the contrast making his brows furrow in hazed need, and when you arch your back into him he squeezes your tit to his mouth, eliciting a surprised wail from you.

Even when he gets closer, your sensitive nub engulfed by his swollen lips, he keeps looking up at you for approval with wide, teary eyes that beg for you to praise him. And with a hand gripping his wavy locks, you nod repeatedly for him to keep going, “Fuck, baby. Just like that, oh my God.”

He hums lowly with his mouth stuffed, his fingers digging in your flesh the more you drag your cunt mercilessly over the outline of his thickness, and he has to release you with a pop and rest his head on the couch behind him, palms keeping you somewhat still by the waist, panting out a desperate request when he feels himself throb dangerously close to his high, “G—Goldie, I can’t. Don’t— Don’t wanna cum like this.”

You lift your hips just enough for the both of you to whimper at the loss of friction, and you murmur through a string of kisses along his exposed neck, “How do you want to cum then, huh?”

He only whines, cheeks flushed with want and eyes glossy, forehead creasing with the way his brows are stressing, “Please.”

You show no mercy, flashing him with a wicked smirk and a teasing tilt of your head, “Ah-ah. Say it.”

Gulping with effort, his waist twitches up unconsciously to seek for your touch once again, and with his face turned to the side he admits in the smallest voice, “‘Nside of you.”

“Good boy. Gonna give you exactly what you want.”

He voices a loud cry just from the sound of your promise, only echoing more intensely when you hastily work at his zipper. It’s messy, uncertain, and it elicits breathy giggles from the two of you, drunk on adoration and high on desire.

Eventually, he’s stripped free from his confines, and his cock stands proud and hard, veins pumping the blood that has it throbbing against his toned stomach.

Jeongguk can feel your hooded eyes on him, can sense his tip wettening with the simple way you seem starved and eager to taste him, your hand coming too close to where he needs you the most before he gently grabs your wrist to stop it.

Automatically, your head snaps up, and the look on his face is one of nervous desperation, “Wan’ you to kiss me, please.”

You’re ready to comply to his every demand, and this one is as easy as it gets. You want to give him everything— whatever he wants, however he wants it.

Your lips mold with his in worldless acceptance, absorbing all you were afraid to voice to each other, making up for all the time you wasted, devoting to a sealed promise, the one that dances between your connected tongues, saliva making it wet and breathless.

Even more when your slim fingers trail down his torso before wrapping around his length, your wrist expertly flicking in a teasing touch, and his moan is unrestrained as it tears through the kiss. You swallow the sound greedily, steadying you against his chest rising and falling in frantic pants.

Before he can protest, his own hips bucking up in a silent beg for more, you steal the air from his lungs when you move your panties to the side and align your entrance with his tip, just to sink down on it.

The drag is slow and it has both of your eyes rolling back, pleased groans filling the air and straining against your throat when you fully sit yourself wrapped around his dick. You search for him, “You okay?”

“Shit,” Jeongguk seems hypnotised by the view of his thickness wrecking you in half, and his palms come to rest at your waist where his fingers dig into the skin. Your own playing with the hair on his nape only seem to make him more vulnerable, “This is perfect. You feel so good and warm, fuck.”

You’re not used to hearing him curse so openly and so often, and it naturally makes you giggle, the sound tickling his ears and leading his dilated pupils to look up at you through his lashes. Your sweet laughter fades into a lasting smile, one he can’t help but kiss, even if it’s all teeth, the contagious sight of your happiness getting to him too.

The moment is sickeningly sweet, bodies connected in more ways than one. With your kiss only deepening and your chest melting against his, you pull him impossibly closer by the back of his neck and start attempting slow motions on top of him.

You hear him through his thundering heartbeat, “Goldie… I— I don’t think I can last any longer, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Oh, shit, baby,” one particular shift has his length, deeply stuffed in your tight walls, finding your spot and teasing it with an electric buzz that travels through your body, “It’s okay. I’m so close too.”

The moment you try a firmier bounce and feel him find you again, you can’t help the way your movements fasten, your moans thick and low against your throat, his own louder and ricocheting through the walls.

You steady yourself with one of you palms on his thigh, leaning your weight back and finding a new angle to fuck yourself on him. He watches in awe as you work your fingers on your clit, rapid circling movements causing his mouth to hang open at the squelching sounds.

He pants, his wide hands guiding your riding, pushing you up and down, “Can— Can I touch you?”

You hum, but it sounds more like a whine, “Hm, of course, pretty boy,” the hand that was stimulating your sensitive nub now comes behind you to help support yourself on both of his muscular thighs, flexing under every shift.

Jeongguk is unpracticed as he leads his thumb to rest at your clit, applying a soft pressure and mimicking the same pattern he observed from you. He only seems to be focusing on his doing for the first few moments before he searches up for the reaction on your face, and he whimpers when he finds your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, your brows drawn up in pleasure.

You smile at the unconscious twitch of his chin, and give him just what you know he wants, “Always seeking my approval. You’re so good.”

The simple praise only has him working on you with more confidence, collecting some of your wetness and sliding it up along your lips. He learns fast, listening to your every sound and centering on your pleasure, as best as he can with his own knot getting closer to bursting.

You’re clearly affected by the simulations, your hips stuttering and riding around him, but you still make sure to concentrate on him first, “I’ll tell you when to cum, hm? You’ll listen to me, right?”

Jeongguk nods before he even knows what he’s agreeing to, “Y—yes. Yes, yes, fuck. I’ll be good. Wanna be so, so good for you. Wanna c—cum for you.”

“You’re so filthy, baby. Naughty boy. Fuck me.”

His hips meet you up with harsh thrusts that have you lose your balance on him, and you can only throw yourself with your arms around his broad shoulders, face hidden in the crook of his neck as he lets his desire take over, fucking up into you with a desperate need for release.

You think you see stars with the way he relentlessly pounds your hole, wet folds sliding along his length and causing a mess between you, his own slickness mixed with yours trailing down and pooling at the base. The sounds are inglorious, and they merge perfectly with your wails.

Breathing in his scent, you know he’s close from the way his thrusts are stammering sloppily, and his moans are closer to strained whines. You concede, “F—Fucking cum, Gguk. Cum inside me, fuck.”

He nods, slamming you down to meet his movements, desperate to feel you before he can stop himself, “Cum with me, pleas— Oh.”

When your walls spasm around him with your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave, causing you to shake in his embrace around you, he feels himself cum unannounced, hard and thick, sprouts of white liquid relentlessly pumping inside your warmth.

You milk him dry, both your wails drained with the effort and fading into breathless gasps, his arms around you falling limply at his sides. You’re sprawled on his chest, emptied from any energy, and he is just as spent with his head lolling against the back of the couch.

But you feel it in your heartbeats syncing, the realization of what happened, what finally happened. You feel it in his face moving down to find your lips and catch them in a sweet peck, his fingers trailing up again to trace lazy patterns on your back before tangling in your hair, grounding himself in you.

It’s your own smiles breaking through the kiss, lashes tickling, and both of you laugh senselessly as you come down from the moment.

“Fuck,” Jeongguk breathes out, voice raspy, “This was the best Christmas gift ever.”

You snicker, biting your lip to hold back your amusement, “Oh, baby. It was just an excuse to fuck you. I actually did forget your gift at home.”

“W—What?” His brows shoot up, his post-orgasm haze momentarily replaced with incredulity as his cheeks redden even more.

When Jeongguk straightens on the couch, so do you, steadying your weak frame with your hands splayed against his chest. Sheepishly, you confess, “Yeah. Bought you that Mario game yo—“

“Princess Peach: Showtime?”

“Yea—”

Jeongguk gasps dramatically, his excitement so pure it’s almost jarring considering what just transpired, and that he’s no longer a virgin, “God, I fucking love— that game. That is the best Christmas gift ever.”

You can’t hold back your laughter this time, shaking your head at how easily he slips back into his usual self, the one that had you buying a Victoria’s Secret set in that shade of burgundy he said he didn’t like just to attempt a crazy chance at having him.

Leaning forward, you press a lingering kiss to his lips that brings you back to the realization that you finally did get to have him, before murmuring against them, “Well, that and a second round. What do you say?”

“Please.”

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thornnii · 11 months ago

Text

⎯ ☆ my girlfriend

genre: fluff wordcount: 0.9k pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader tags: based on 'my girlfriend' by TV Girl, daughter of hypnos!reader (she/her), use of [reader], from percy's perspective, minor gods have cabins, established relationship, they're like 15 in this, phones/devices don't attract monsters (eg. noise cancelling headphones) summary: sometimes she just struggles to get out of bed. she can’t help it. notes: noticing how both my percy fics have similar titles, anyway happy international sleep day!

↳ return to masterlist

the sun was bathing camp half blood in a golden light as campers began exiting their respective cabins and heading towards the dining pavilion for breakfast. stepping out of his own cabin, percy was immediately engulfed in the wave of campers, but he did his best to push through the current of others toward the cabins of the minor gods. it had become routine for him by this point; wake up, get sorted for the day, go to cabin 15, drag [reader] out of bed, go for breakfast. percy wondered whether clovis would be up yet or not. who knew with hypnos kids. percy knew that if he didn’t go check up on [reader] she’d willingly hibernate like a bear throughout the winter.

percy knocked on the door to cabin 15, his mother had raised him to always be a gentleman. the door was opened slowly, revealing a bleary-eyed clovis who, upon recognising percy, ushered him in so he could close the door once more. percy liked the hypnos cabin. it always smelt warm and the soft violins made everything feel serene. it was an ironic comparison to personalisation of the beds; messy sheets, a collection of cups, plates and cutlery, clothes strewn around, as well as their own belongings from home. almost every bedside cabinet had either a pair of headphones upon it or a pair of ear plugs.

instantly, percy went over to [reader]’s bed. she was still asleep. of course. it seemed incredulous to percy that anyone would be able to sleep through the morning conch, but here was living proof that it were possible. percy gently shook [reader]’s shoulder to try and ease her out of her slumber. she let out some incomprehensible mumble before promptly rolling over and hiding her face in her pillow.

“c’mon,” percy coaxed, “gotta get up and get breakfast”

[reader] spoke into her pillow once more but this time percy could catch bits of what she was saying, “be fine without… don’t wanna get up… didn’t sleep good..”

“you need breakfast.” percy stood his ground, “and the reason you didn’t sleep well is because you never go to sleep at a reasonable time, it’s a wonder the curfew harpies haven’t caught you yet.”

“I’m too smart for them.” [reader] rebutted, finally turning to face percy and squinting her eyes at him.

“yes you are, now up.” percy quickly pulled the duvet away causing [reader] to let out groans and mumbled protestations at his actions. “come on.” percy reiterated, holding out his hands for [reader] to take. she continued to squint her eyes and scowl at him, but took his hands anyway.

“wash up and then we can go to breakfast” percy proffered.

“can’t I just go like this?” [reader] contested, gesturing to her pyjamas of fluffy black pyjama trousers and make-shift pyjama top of a vintage graphic tee.

percy raised an eyebrow, “you know you’ll get into trouble with chiron if you do.”

“when is getting in trouble an issue for you?” [reader] raised an eyebrow.

“please.” percy begged.

“percy, you’re lucky that I even got out of bed, besides it’s not like I really have any activities to do today, so why do I have to get changed?”

percy sighed, trying to reason, “how about you just change into the shirt? at least for breakfast?”

“fine. turn around.” [reader] motioned with her finger.

it was coming close to the end of breakfast when percy and [reader] finally entered the dining pavilion. since it was basically empty, the two sat together at the hypnos table. thankfully there was still some food left, but not as much as percy would’ve liked, especially after sacrificing some to the gods.

“considering you went out of your way to drag me here, are you actually going to eat or not?” [reader] asked as percy seemingly just stared at his food.

“yeah, yeah,” percy shook his head as he broke out of his reverie, “was just thinking.”

“about?” [reader] prodded.

“just… how do you go a day on so little food? if I didn’t wake you up in the mornings you’d sleep straight through breakfast.”

“I nap and I don’t do anything strenuous. I’d rather rot in bed than go on a quest. I don’t need a lot of energy. besides ‘girl dinner’.”

“it’s breakfast.” percy pointed out.

“whatever, not the point.”

percy rolled his eyes at his girlfriend and went back to eating. it wasn’t until the two were finished with their food and basically the only ones left in the pavilion did he ask:

“so, what are you going to do today?”

[reader] shrugged her shoulders, “dunno, might go to the arts and crafts centre. don’t have to do anything strenuous there.”

“want me to join you?” percy asked, gathering their plates to take back to the kitchen.

“you don’t have to, I know it’s not your favourite place, you could go to the sword-fighting arena to practise if you want. I’m probably going to end up falling asleep anyway.”

“cool. I’ll be there to wake you up if chiron or mr d come by.”

a smile spread across [reader]’s face. she gave percy a light smack on the shoulder before looping her arm through his and dragging him off to the arts and crafts centre. she could already feel her eyelids drooping as she walked, anticipating the peace and quiet of the crafts centre that would let her nap until lunch.

#thornnii’s fics #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo series #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #x reader #x fem!reader #daughter of hypnos!reader #fluff

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botchedsundoll · 2 months ago

Note

I LOVE YOU

Ily for writing gaolang... Ily you're awesome...

Ion wanna spam bbUT waoh ..

You're feeding me and the idk 7 other kengan likers on this godforsaken app

🫶

G. WONGSAWAT, O. TOKITA, R. KURE, C. IMAI, SP. YOROIZUKA, H. SEN X READER (SEPARATE)

ೃ⁀➷ sypnosis; winter hc’s

ೃ⁀➷ warnings; lil suggestive in hatsumi’s (no surprise)

ೃ⁀➷ author’s note; this ones 4 u ho, didn’t know what to write abt LOL, also same why the flip is it so dead💔💔, they all so fine n they beat shit out of eachother how can u not like this show, MY RQS R OPEN PLS RQ PLSSSS😵😵😵😵😵

G. WONGSAWAT

not a fan of the colder seasons at all. if he could, he’d eradicate winter and autumn simply because of the drop in temperature

don’t even try getting this guy into a snowball fight. the moment he feels the pressure of something freezing and solid hit his back he’s slowly turning back to face you, that absolutely dreadful look of horror on his face

but what he does enjoy about the colder seasons? cooking! to him, there’s nothing better than a warm healthy meal on a cold day - which you end up being absolutely stuffed with. there’s no ifs or buts, you are eating the damn thing

wraps you up like crazy. think of a mother wrapping up her kid - 3 layers on beneath a massive fluffy coat, gloves, scarf, hat and zipped up to your neck

is literally constantly rubbing moisturiser onto your face to stop your skin from going dry and irritated. just imagine, that deadpan expression on his face as he’s smearing moisturiser on your face with the most delicate touch ever

you have to remind him you, in fact, are not 6 years old

not very big on pda - but once the temp drops, he’s reaching out for your hand and shoving it in his coat pocket with your fingers intertwined with his no matter where the hell you are

O. TOKITA

snow genuinely pisses him off - he hates the feel of it, he doesn’t care for it at all

only likes the colder seasons because you seem glued to him at all times - arm constantly wrapped around his bicep when you’re out, or snuggled up against him at home

won’t ever admit he likes it - yet that little smirk on his face speaks volumes

for some unknown reason he literally never gets fully dressed - as in a thick winter coat or gloves, no matter how cold it is. he’s leaving the house in his sneakers and a coat he begrudgingly put on due to your incessant complaining

this guy is like a bear, quite literally in hibernation - if he’s not training or eating, he’s sleeping. and he’ll be dragging you along with him too

sleeps with them thick ass heavy blankets with some sort of animal print/ flowers on them (babcia’s special)

once his arms are wrapped around you and his eyes shut? yeah, you’re not getting out

gets dry lips from the cold. gets confused when you won’t kiss him because of it

the SHITTIEST cookie decorator - he ends up eating half the damn tray before they’ve even cooled properly, and then eats some more whilst he’s icing them with you

most of his gingerbread men end up limbless because he snaps them off and eats them whilst he’s decorating

always makes the pair of you without a fail, despite his habit of eating the whole batch. they might look a little… strange but you absolutely love it and can’t help but tease him about it

R. KURE

he’s a hater at heart - hates every season just because

but winter? ESPECIALLY winter because of christmas and the fact the village has to be decorated - which he always ends up being forced to help out with

but he actually tolerates snow - only because he gets to throw snowballs at you

the moment the pair of you step outside, his hands are already reaching out for the snow and molding snowballs. and they will be targeting you. quite frequently - to the point you get pissed off and start screaming at him to pack it in and sort himself out

which eggs him on further

he believes he doesn’t feel cold so he doesn’t need a coat or whatever bullshit that makes him seem more ‘stronger’ than everyone else

he gets such dry skin around his nose from the cold yet will literally FIGHT you before he lets you put any moisturiser on or anything. but nag him about it constantly, he will eventually cave just to shut you up

wouldn’t be caught dead decorating cookies. refuses constantly… yet like always he finally caves

and the most damn surprising thing? he takes it SO seriously simply to have better looking cookies than yours so he can mercilessly bully you about it

C. IMAI

absolutely loves winter. what’s there not to love?

christmas, warm meals, snow, hot chocolate… he’s still a massive kid at heart

once a substantial amount of snow’s settled on the ground, he’s immediately ushering you out the house to make a snowman together

and because of how much he’s in a rush, he doesn’t bother getting dressed properly and always gets ill - it literally repeats every single damn year

ice skating. he IS taking you ice skating no matter what - can’t skate? he’ll teach you, don’t you worry about that

you bought him earmuffs as a joke, saying how cute he’ll look in them - he now wears them religiously every winter since

to him, november is officially the start of christmas - and for the next 2 months he’s always wanting to decorate cookies/ gingerbread men with you

and somehow, they always end up absolutely gorgeous - much to your dismay

cookie decorating competitions. always. (which he always wins)

SP. YOROIZUKA

somehow he can make the coldest of days feel like summer

we’ve all seen the manga panel - saw paing’s excitability just brings warmth everywhere and to anyone

LOVES making snow angels and snowmen. constantly asking you to make a snowman with you, there’s quite literally a whole army outside your house made by him and the children of the village

snowball fights are a must. he always ends up being roped into one by all the kids - which he has absolutely no issue with. he genuinely enjoys it, especially when he lands one at you and you join in

getting this guy to come back inside is genuinely like trying to drag a kid back home. he’s absolutely soaked and despite how damn warm he is all the time, he’ll definitely get sick - but he still won’t go inside

which is where your little charm has to come in - give him that look and ask him softly and he’ll drop the snow almost immediately and rush back home. he’s absolutely smitten and will do literally anything you ask of him

but despite his seemingly complete lack of care for his own wellbeing, he always wraps you up before leaving the house. he doesn’t want you getting ill!

one of the rare moments he’ll be silent as he’s focused on wrapping your scarf around you tightly yet not too tight and zipping your coat up. insists on slipping your gloves on for you

H. SEN

literally just an excuse to touch you more, under the pretense that he’s keeping you warm

hands are CONSTANTLY on you no matter what you’re doing, chest pressed up against your back - and once you ask him what the hell he’s doing, he simply says he’s sharing his body heat

which is sort of working

you wanna go out into the snow? yeah, sure, he knows how to warm you back up after if you get my drift

one thing he won’t do - ice skating

absolutely not, not happening. despite being light on his feet, ice skating is the one thing he can’t hack for the life of him. he’s tried, trust him and it quite literally never ends well for him

nothing can get done with him. you wanna build a snowman? okay, just don’t mind the constant slaps and pinches on your ass whenever you bend over to gather more snow. bake and decorate cookies? of course! just ignore the hands shamelessly roaming your body and pressing you up against the counter despite your constant nagging at him to give up and bake the damn cookies

what can he say? he can’t help himself

god does he love having you with him in winter

#ೃ⁀➷. olka’s bs #STOP I DIDNT KNOW WHAT TO WRITE ABT #winter it is!! yay!!!#kengan ashura #kengan ashura x reader #kengan x reader #kenganverse #kengan omega #gaolang wongsawat x reader #gaolang wongsawat #tokita ohma x reader #ohma tokita #cosmo imai #saw paing yoroizuka #hatsumi sen #raian kure #raian x reader

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silverseaming · 2 months ago

Text

Quiet means something different in Winter. It’s not only the absence of sound but the absence of movement, as if the whole world has burrowed away into hibernation. Even before the first snow the ground is frost-hard and branches are bare of leaves. It’s peaceful, strangely. Perhaps that’s the reason Kit finds himself still sat in the barn, long after he should have gone in for the night. It’s never intentional, the one more job after dinner that turns into just go to bed without me, love, I won’t be long, but it’s become all too frequent. He’s managed to convince himself that it’s easier than going back inside, lying awake next to Meg and feeling so utterly helpless. Knowing that she’s unhappy and being utterly powerless to make it better.

Something about the almost painful prickling of cold on his cheeks and fingers brings him back to himself, a tether, of sorts. It’s not enough to keep him aware of his surroundings though, and the sound of boots on the barn floor is a surprise. Meg stands in the doorway, shivering slightly despite the shawl wrapped over her nightgown. She’s almost ghostly, hovering at the edge of Kit’s vision until he turns to look at her.

“Aren’t you coming to bed?” She asks tentatively. There’s something more than concern in her voice that Kit can’t quite make out.

“Of course, love. Right away.” The response is flat, a reflex; the words leave his mouth before he can think of anything better to say. What else can he say? That seeing her upset feels like it will break him, but the guilt of shying away is breaking him more?

“Really, Kit? I went to bed, and when I woke up you still weren’t there.” It’s resignation, that’s what he’d missed. Tired acceptance of some painful fact. She continues with an even smaller voice: “It’s alright if you don’t want to— but please come inside, it’s too cold to stay out here.”

Suddenly Kit looks up at Meg anew — this isn’t his Meg, who would lovingly scold him for catching his death and then drag him to the house by an arm. This Meg puts on a brave face, but she’s been strung out by disappointment. How could you have left her alone?

“Oh, love.” Kit stands to take her hand, her fingers are ice cold. “Love, it’s not that I don’t want to, I promise.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t blame you, I’ve failed you—” Meg’s voice trembles slightly. It feels like someone’s plunged a fist into Kit’s chest and closed it around his heart.

“Don’t you dare say that, Meg. If anyone’s failed anyone, I’ve failed you.” Words have never come easily or eloquently, and they seem to stick in the back of his throat, coming out painful and thick. “I— I can’t stand seeing you sad like this, and there’s nothing I can do to make it better, and— hell, if I could just give you a child I would, but I can’t. ”

“I’m not asking you for a child, Kit, you silly man. At least not like that.” Meg can’t help a small damp giggle. “I’m just asking my husband to be here. With me. To come to bed and hold me like he used to. If you think you can manage that, we can take care of the rest later.”

“Of course, my love.” This time Kit means it. He reaches a hand to Meg’s cheek, tracing it gently. Once again he wonders how he could have stayed away from her. The cold of the stable floor is a poor substitute for her warmth curled into him, the grounding pricks of frost nothing compared to Meg’s hands tangled in his hair. Every other thought pales in comparison, even the gnawing guilt-creature nestled at the pit of his stomach quiets. There will be plenty of time to feel it all later. “Forgive me, I should never have left you alone.”

“You’re forgiven, Mr Calloway. As long as you come in now, before you catch your death out here.” That's more of his Meg, though far softer and more tender than he deserves as she leans into his touch.

“Never mind me catching my death, you’re not wearing nearly enough.” Kit pulls Meg close as they wander back towards the farmhouse. She fits just right against him, still shivering slightly.

“That’s because I was sleeping, as you should have been.” Meg reproaches, though she nestles in tighter, hair tickling the side of Kit’s neck as she leans into his shoulder. “Anyway, I shan’t catch my death. Then what would you and Daisy do without me?”

“You make a good point, love,” Kit chuckles softly.

In their bedroom the fire is just going out, casting the whole room in a rosy glow. Meg’s head rests on Kit’s pyjama-striped shoulder. Tiredness is beginning to tug at the edges of his awareness, but it’s a pleasant, languid sensation.

“Kit?”

“Yes, love?” Kit murmurs.

“Do you promise not to do that again?” Meg asks, suddenly serious.

“I promise.” Cross my heart and hope to die.

“Good.”

When Meg pulls him down for a kiss Kit feels he might just die right there, never mind about his promise. Her lips are warm and gently and relieved and it’s so right. Not for the first time the only thought he can muster is to thank God for giving him Margaret Anne.

#historical simblr #decades challenge #ts4 decades challenge #sim story #ts4 historical #sims 4 #ts4 #simblr #historical sims #ts4 legacy #calloways #calloways 1890s #meg calloway #kit calloway #its ok kit the thoughts can't hurt you #(or can they...)#oops this is supposed to be somewhat of a happy post #please enjoy my mediocre late night writing <3 #pacing is all over the place but we ball

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cosmictyto · 2 months ago

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(Movie) Nimona Winter/Christmas Headcanons:

Experiencing a literal snow squall rn and it’s making me think of Khrismuh Time. So have some thoughts.

First: In terms of the Trio™️ and where they generally stand regarding “Holiday Spirit”

• 🎄 •

Ambrosius: Absolutely loves it. He naturally runs cold, but at the same time he loves wearing winter clothes. Sweaters, cozy socks, scarves, you name it. And his biggest “giving” love language IS gifts. (Meanwhile his “receiving” LL is physical touch. Dude wants cuddles.) So this holiday ticks all the boxes for him. He’s wants to celebrate the whole month long, wants to go do little traditions like sleigh rides and snowball fights, and he always had a couple decorations he put in his dorm at the Institute every year. Like he is IN it. And he’s totally the kind of guy who’s working on a list for Bal the whole year. Yes, he knows the season isn’t JUST about material goods. But he also absolutely loves the look on Bal’s face when he gets something he genuinely loves, or when Rose catches Bal wearing/using something he got him. It just makes him really happy.

• 🎄 •

Ballister: Moderate Christmas enjoyer. He naturally runs hot, so he doesn’t bundle up nearly as much as Ambrosius does. Usually only in a tshirt and some gray sweatpants (another reason why Ambrosius likes winter ayooo~) And maybe a turtleneck when it gets really cold. The gifts are nice, but he’s always been a quality time kind of guy. Which, works out perfectly. There was always a Christmas Break for cadets so they had time, + Bal n’ Rose could go out and do all those traditional little activities and have a good time. He used to have a hard time with the holidays when he was a kid for various reasons. For starters, the winter weather in the Danks can be a bitch. Along with general food insecurities plus a cultural emphasis on family and friends when you don’t have any doesn’t lead to anything good. Even despite the various charities that try to make that time easier. But, after starting his training, he had a stable home and food situation, he had a best friend who did his damndest to make sure he had a good Christmas, and yeah the Queen always invited him to spend the actual day with her (since she didn’t really have anyone, either.) So over time he’s built up good memories and associations with the season.

I also see him as 100% being the kind of guy who goes to do volunteer work as part of his traditions. (Not even just for christmas, I imagine he and Ambrosius do community work year-round because they’re both genuinely good, generous guys- though he definitely MAKES time for it during the holidays) Mainly because he knows how hard it is out there when you don’t have anything. And he’s benefited from things like soup kitchens, blanket and clothes donations, as well as toy drives when he was small. Now he’s an adult with the means to help and give back. Why wouldn’t he do that?

• 🎄 •

Nimona: She. Hates. It. The Grinchiest Grinch who ever Grinched. For starters, I wanna put down a Richard Adams quote, because it definitely applies here and how Nims would feel about winter overall:

“Many human beings say that they enjoy the winter, but what they really enjoy is feeling proof against it. For them there is no winter food problem. They have fires and warm clothes. The winter cannot hurt them and therefore increases their sense of cleverness and security. For birds and animals, as for poor men, winter is another matter.”

The years she’s lived as various animals gave her enough reason to dislike the season. There are PLENTY of times where she’s hibernated as a bear or flown south to avoid the cold. Though when she’s stayed in the kingdom, she just does not have a good time. She’s had a lot of the same issues Ballister had as a kid, but she’s never had anyone to alleviate them. She’s just had to endure for literal centuries. Plus, the holiday’s messaging about “peace, love, goodwill towards others,” and all of that feels incredibly fake considering everything she’s been through. It’s hard to get in that christmas spirit when you’re just trying to survive in a kingdom that would happily hunt and kill you. Plus, she’s seen how the holiday itself has succumbed to commercialization. So it feels even MORE cheap and fake to her. She just doesn’t like it. (She’s more of a Halloween person anyway.) It’s just a bad time of year, with a boatload of negative emotions/baggage attached to it that lasts even after the events of the movie, and she’s more than happy to treat it like “just another day.” (I also imagine she deals with seasonal affective disorder. Get this girlie a uv lamp so she can bask under it as a lizard.)

That first christmas after she comes back from the canon incident? When she starts living with her boss and his boyfriend? She’s a complete grump. She sees Ambrosius (who is still “Nemisis,” “Goldielocks,” and “Goldengroin” in her mind) decorating the place during, like, the first week of December and she’s reacting like an angry cat. Quietly slinking into her room and avoiding everyone. Maybe even playing loud music to drown out the sound of cheesy movies and music. Ambrosius is pretty oblivious to why she’s being so sour about everything, but Bal immediately recognizes what’s going on and empathizes. Already forming a plan to give her some good experiences. And, like, they don’t really convert her into a christmas enjoyer within the year. But with each passing holiday they do help ease her out of hating it. It’ll never be her favorite holiday, but she stops dreading winter and christmas eventually.

#nimona #nimona movie #nimona 2023 #nimona netflix #christmas #holidays #christmas headcanons #headcanons #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister boldheart #nimona headcanons

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gumnut-logic · 6 months ago

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Blossom

Have some weird fic. Vaguely FishTank, mostly brothers. I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Virgil Tracy loved living on a tropical island. It was warm and the air was clean. The ocean was their constant companion with its moods and fickle ways, its colours ever so vibrant.

The blues went on forever.

But there was one thing he missed on the plains of Kansas.

Ironically it wasn’t even the correct time to miss what he missed. The blossoms of Kansas bloomed in March and April. Here in the southern hemisphere it was the complete opposite end of the year.

Perhaps he was connected to his ecosystem more than he realised? Because every August he got tetchy.

Today was a perfect example. He really shouldn’t have bitten Gordon’s head off like that. The Fish meant well…most of the time. Virgil was just short tempered.

Of course, Gordon hadn’t helped his case by declaring ‘the bear has just awoken from hibernation, Island beware!’

It took all of Virgil’s restraint to prevent himself from clapping his brother up the head.

Which only proved the point.

Because somewhere further south of the Island, the seasons were rolling slowly into spring, and yes, it was that time of year when in Kansas, after being mostly confined during winter, he itched to get out.

The fact he lived in the tropics and there were no seasons was obviously ridiculously irrelevant.

So, today, rather than biting heads off brothers, he hiked up to the top of Tracy Peak and stood in the ocean breeze staring south.

He couldn’t get more ‘out’ than that.

Even in the tropics, up this high, the wind was brisk, cold, and biting through his flannel shirt.

It was invigorating.

The little Gordon at the back of his brain shook his head and facepalmed.

He owed his little brother an apology.

Cloud was skittering along the distant horizon to the south. Down that way lay the island chain of the Kermadecs eventually culminating in Aotearoa.

Now there was a temperate zone that knew how to throw a blossoming spring. He would admit to having visited Hawkes Bay just last year for that exact reason.

Fields of blossom in spring and fruit in the summer.

He must have lost himself in the moment, because he was suddenly startled by a roar.

Spinning on the spot, he looked down to see his ‘bird lift off her runway and take to the air. If his heart hadn’t emergency responded in reflex, it would have been a magic moment. It was rare to see her launch without him.

He grabbed his collar. “Thunderbird Five, what’s the situation?”

“Hold your horses, grumpy bear, no situation. I’m coming to you.” Gordon’s voice was light and cheerful and not Thunderbird Five.

“Gordon!”

But as he watched, his ‘bird arced out over the ocean in a perfect turn and headed back towards Tracy Peak…where Virgil was standing.

“Gordon, what are you doing?”

Before his brother could answer, Two came to a hover above him, her VTOL washing away the cold wind and replacing it with roaring warmth.

Her belly opened and the rescue rig lowered down towards Virgil. “Hop aboard, bear boy.”

Virgil’s eyebrows collided and crumpled up. But he stepped onto the rig without saying another word. He triggered the return signal and watched as Tracy Peak drifted away below.

The hatch swallowed him up and before the rig settled, he was off and moving, running towards the cockpit.

He was greeted with a Gordon holding his hands up like Virgil was holding a gun. “It’s cool, bear bro, I’m just taking you for a little ride.” Virgil managed to frown even more. Gordon rolled his eyes. “In style, I must say. Sit back and we’ll be there momentarily.” He sat back down in the pilot’s seat and place his hand on the yoke.

“Where? And why are you flying my ‘bird.”

“Orders from on high, Thunderbird Two. Courtesy of ‘too busy’ Scott and ‘rolling his eyes’ Johnny. You did it this time and the leadership team declared you on downtime.” Virgil opened his mouth, but was cut off by Gordon holding up a finger. “Under orders, growly bear. I’m taking you south so you can go find a fruit tree and hug it.”

Virgil flopped onto the co-pilot’s seat. “Gordon-“

“Yes, that be my name, don’t bear it out.”

Two accelerated and Virgil was forced to sit back and strap in. Both Scott and John were going to get feedback on the matter.

“We really don’t have time for this.”

Gordon snorted. “Hence the Thunderbird, grumble-butt. Be there in no time, respond just as fast if we need to.”

Virgil found his arm crossed tight across his chest.

He forced them to uncross and his shoulders to relax.

Aotearoa crept over the horizon and within moments they were circling in above what appeared to be a farm.

“Where are we?”

“Aotearoa, der.”

“Whose farm, Fish-brain?”

“Friend of Johnny’s, source of those honeyed almonds he threatens fratricide over.”

“Ben and Jules?”

“That would be them. He said there was a cafe and everything.” Gordon smirked at Virgil. “And they have a field of almond trees in full blossom. I’ve been directed to lock you in the orchard until you regain sanity.”

Virgil glared at him as the Fish expertly landed Virgil’s Thunderbird in the mostly empty parking lot. Even though Virgil felt like complaining, he couldn’t find anything to complain about. His little brother’s flying was perfect.

Drat it.

Yes, apparently Virgil did need to go hug a tree or something.

Scott and John were so dead.

“Off you go, butter-bear. Johnny called ahead. Ben is going to meet us out front. He’s been warned about the bear.”

“For goodness sake!”

“Eh, you shouldn’t have pissed off Johnny, yesterday, I’m just sayin’. Stew in your own pot”

Virgil watched his brother expertly go through post-flight. Again, flawlessly.

“Off you go, bear-brows, before you strain one of those eyebrow muscles of yours. Then where would we be?”

“Gordon.” But it was said without steam this time, and with a sigh, he gave in, climbing out of the co-pilot’s seat - the view from there just wasn’t right - and walking over to the hatch.

The moment he was settled, the hatch began to lower. “May the bear be with you! Or perhaps, let it go, let it go!” Gordon devolved into the Frozen soundtrack and Virgil found himself fleeing without a second thought.

His boots hit the grass and he was assailed by the scent of greenery, the buzzing of bees, and a warmth to the air that just could not be replicated in the tropics.

The farm had a central building, but off to his left was a wide gate leading into a field of blossoming almond trees.

He was drawn to it like a magnet.

Somewhere off to his right, an older man was grinning and waving him on. Virgil smiled, just a little, in his direction, and he was waved on even more eagerly.

Yes, Scott and John were very dead. Bear or no bear.

But the old man was laughing, and as Virgil made it to the gate, he vaguely registered Gordon leaping from Two’s hatchway and joining the man laughing.

Scott and John…so dead.

But the field beckoned.

The wooden gate opened with a creak, disturbing bees and butterflies. The wind that had been ruffling Virgil’s hair on Tracy Peak, was now little more than a breeze rustling flower petals. Every now and again, a single petal would break loose and flutter to the vivid green grass below.

Birds darted about in bare branches, shaking more petals loose.

It gave the field the surrealism of another world.

The bees hummed and buzzed in their bazillions.

Virgil took a deep breath, as if he could breathe it all in.

Yes, maybe he would hug a tree, and then fall asleep under it in the sun.

He could kill his brothers later.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #nuttyfic

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return-of-a-space-cowboy · 7 months ago

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🧚‍♀️ Anon

Mmm, Naga Risotto (I have a bad case of Risotto on the brain)

He would have you wrapped around his coils in a tight hug to sap your warmth using you as his own personal heater for the colder season instead of his meal (He made sure to eat a lot of live prey for the following winter months so he doesn’t have to hunt)

Risotto would smother you between his Titties to sap your warmth as he wraps his arms tightly around your waist and sleep (You become his teddy bear)

He would love it especially when your chubby because there’s more to love and cuddle (Don’t mind him as he feeds you so you can stay healthy and have some extra energy for when mating season happens in spring)

He’s an Apex Predator so you should no doubt feel honored he chose you as his mate (He uses his animal instincts for logic) and isn’t against threats to devour your loved ones if it means you stay by his side

So stay with him in his cottage in the middle of the woods (He devoured the residents who lived there for the territory) as he breeds you nice and full with his eggs 😭

This has been on my mind for so long. Nagas make the brain go burr

Hibernation pt1

(Yandere Naga Risotto Nero X Female Reader)

There was always the issue of losing livestock as a farmer, however the losses your family's farm was experiencing was suspicious. It seemed like every night something was taken. At this point you'd taken to doing night watch to try and catch what or whoever was taking your livestock.

You regret not bringing a jacket with you tonight, the chilling breeze was a taste of what the approaching winter would bring. You were patrolling the fence with a flashlight in one hand and a pistol in the other when you heard the chickens start crowing. You ran as fast as you could to the coop and threw open the door to see them all running around. You quickly looked around the surrounding area before your attention landed on the chickens once more.

“one, two, three, four, five…” you began trying to count them under your breath. Then suddenly someone grabbed you and you felt something sharp pierce your shoulder. You screamed into the hand of your attacker and dropped your flashlight and pistol.

“You don't know how long I've waited for this,” the person behind you spoke. You wanted desperately to try and fight off your assailant but every kick felt like you were fighting against the pressure of water. You were extremely weak all of a sudden.

“All you need to do is come with me, well… not that you have a choice” he spoke, a chuckle resonating from his chest. You bit his hand and he pulled it away.

“What do you want from me?!” You screamed, unsure you could wake up your family from this distance.

“I've been watching you for some time now…” they spoke. Your attention drifting to the floor, you noticed what seemed like a black and white snake tail illuminated by the flashlight. Your eyes followed it to behind you. It grew quite large from the tip, much bigger than any snake you'd seen before. It slowly wiggle from side to side, like it was anticipating something.

“You're not human” you muttered in a shaken voice.

“You're a smart girl, warm too” he praised

“I'm sure you can be reasoned with” he continued

“You want to eat me?” You questioned.

“Well that was the plan initially, but you'll serve a better purpose alive” he admitted.you dreaded whatever he meant by that. At this point your limbs were helplessly dangling. You hadn’t even realized how much taller this creature was til your neck refused to support your head, your eyes staring down at your feet dangled about a foot off the ground.

“Why can't I move?” You muttered.

“My venom, luckily for humans it only causes temporary paralysis ” he told you. You could felt something thin and wet flicker over your ear making you exclaim in disgust.

“What do you want from me if you're not going to eat me?” You asked him again. Your breathing was now loud and labored.

“I'm claiming you as my mate” he told you, if you could feel a thing you'd have goosebumps. Oh God this creature wanted you as a mate, you didn't know whether to feel disgust or fear.

“And what if I was to refuse?” You asked. His free hand lifted your head from under your chin and turned it to face your house. None of the lights were on, so you assumed everyone was still asleep.

“Hmm… I wonder if I'd have enough room to eat them all, maybe I'll start with the large ones and make my way down” he snickered.

“No! Leave them alone” you almost screamed out if it weren't for the current state you were in.

“Oh I will, if you cooperate” he told you. You didn't have much of a choice, your weapon was on the ground and you were paralyzed.

“So, we have a deal?” He asked. You remained silent, this monster could do anything right now and you wouldn't be able to defend yourself.

“Silent refusal?” He asked, pushing a response from you.

“Yes, I'll cooperate…” you sighed in defeat. He threw you over his shoulder and you could somewhat see your assailant now. That tail was definitely his and it trailed a lot further then you had initially theorized.

It took for what seemed like hours before he brought you inside a house in the middle of the thick forest. It seemed like another human hadn't lived inside in years by how unkempt it was.

It was a fairly large house, the old wallpaper was peeling off, the windows were covered in a thick layer of dust and the floorboards creaked under any pressure.

In the living room a small fire was burning. Several mattresses were pushed together in the center of the room with blankets sprawled across them. The couch had been turned around to face away from the fire and surrounding the mattresses.

He laid you down on the mattresses before making his way to the fireplace and putting on some more wood. He returned to the mattresses and curled you up in his long tail before laying his upper body on the couch.

You cringed at the feeling of his scale against your skin. You wanted to desperately escape but his venom still had a hold on you. It'd been several hours now and still you couldn't so much as curl a finger.

🐍🐍🐍

You woke up the next morning dazed. It took you a while before you realized the monster had your face smothered between his pecs, you tried to get off of him but he had his hands strongly wrapped around you.

You looked around to see he was now sleeping on the opposite side he was last night. Then he groaned and a hand made its way to his face. For a while you both silently stare at one another.

“This'll take some time to get used to” the monster muttered to himself.

“I can tell you it certainly won't” you hissed but he shook your comment off before rolling you off of him and getting up. You sat up and watched him now that you could get a better look. He had the upper body of a human with fair skin, white hair and haunting red and black eyes. While having the lower body of a snake that seemed to trail on for what you roughly assumed was 8 to 9 feet long.

He made his way outside and you waited, he seemed to have gone somewhere. Seeing an opportunity you made your way to the kitchen and looked around before your eyes landed on a knife. You picked it up, maybe now you had a chance of killing him. So you waited by the door where he wouldn't see you as he came back in.

And when the door creaked open you struck him but he swiftly grabbed the arm you were holding the knife in and twisted it to the point you were forced to drop it.

“Remember, we have a deal” he warned you as he let go of you. You darted back, holding your sore arm.

“And despite that I want to keep you in one piece I won't hesitate to cut something off if it causes me issues” he continued and you cowered away more. He only slithered closer to you.

“but you don't need to worry your pretty little head about that if you behave, right?” he cooed as he lifted your chin. You were a shaking mess as he was pressed up against you. God you were screwed. His intentions were clear, he was going to keep you trapped here and any attempt to kill him or escape could lead to your family's deaths.

🐍🐍🐍

Shortly after he had left again and you sat waiting. When he returned he presented you with the entire leg of a cow.

“Eat” he told you, but there was no way you were eating it in that state. It was still raw and covered in its hide.

“No…” you responded shakely.

“Why?” He asked, he seemed to take offense to your refusal as he his tail coiled up like a snake ready to strike.

“I can't eat it raw… I'd get sick, also it still has its hide” you explained and his coils loosened.

“you humans are strange… you deprive yourselves of nutrients by charring your food” he spoke before taking the meat to the kitchen bench and using the same knife you'd attacked him with earlier to cut the meat and pull off the skin before presenting it to you once more. He practically threw it into your arms and you nearly fell over before he took it back.

“Worse than I thought” he thought out loud.

“And what do you mean by that?” You asked him, cringing at the slimy feeling the meat left on you.

“You're weak, need to bulk up” he explained.

“You'll set up the fire and find something to cook it on” he instructed as he held the leg. So you entered the kitchen to find a rack that could possibly fit. Luckily the previous owners had a big stove. You took one of the racks and made your way to the fireplace and managed to fit it between the bricks perfectly.

Then you wondered how on earth you were going to set up a proper fire, you'd relied on gas cookers and lighters your whole life. You grabbed some of the torn paper in the center before piling some small sticks onto.

“um, you have any matchsticks?” You asked.

“What are those?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. Oh yeah a monster like him wouldn't have ever used them.

“do you not know how to even start a fire?” He asked.

“well… we had tools for this sort of thing” you explained. He placed the leg on the rack and it surprisingly remained sturdy.

“all those tools have really made humans so weak” he muttered before grabbing a stick and a log that had been cut in half, the center had seemed to be worn through to the end and a piece of paper beneath.

He placed the log on your lap and the stick in your hand and you just looked back at him with confusion.

“Rub the stick up and down the groove” he instructed and you followed.

“Faster” he told you and you compiled.

Your hands hurt after so long, you were going to quit before you saw a spark in the pile of shavings that formed on the paper.

“Now blow on it” he said and you hesitantly did, not wanting to blow it away. Soon a flame emerged, took the paper and carefully shifted the shavings to the paper in the fireplace.

“There, now you know how to start a fire properly” he said, seemingly satisfied by your work. Still it'd take a while for the meat to be cooked and now you felt sweaty and covered in meat juice. You doubted anything worked here with how long it'd probably been abandoned for.

“Is there water nearby?” You asked him.

“There's a water pump outside that works” he told you but that wasn't really what you wanted. He leaned over you and added a bigger piece of wood to the fire.

“Is there maybe something else, I'd like to bathe” you explained.

“There is a river a little further that way” he pointed just beyond one of the windows where the glow of the sunset could be seen.

“We can go there after you've eaten” he continued. A groan passed your lips, you knew the water would be far too cold by then.

And so you waited for an hour or so. The monster had turned the meat to cook on the other side and then brought it to the table to carve for you before coming back with a mixing bowl piled with the beef. Some parts still horribly undercooked for your liking.

You hesitantly took the bowl and picked through to find the more cooked pieces and eat those. When you felt like you'd had your fill you'd put the bowl down. He looked at the bowl, that you'd barely managed to eat through a third of it before looking back at you.

“You need more,” he told you sternly.

“No I'm fine, I couldn't possibly eat anymore” you told him but refused to listen. He picked up a particularly rare piece and held it to your lips. You shuffled back but he swiftly caught you up in his tail.

“No wonder you're weak, you expect your body to run on such miniscule portions” he said before once again putting the meat to your lips but you didn't budge.

“Eat” he demanded as his tail constricted around you. You gave up and opened your mouth, cringing at the feeling of barely cooked beef in your mouth. It was hard to chew and the feeling of swallowing it nearly made you gag.

Then he held up another piece. You whined before eating that piece too, much to your displeasure.

“This is for your own good, I don't want to accidentally snap you in half when spring comes,” he said, which alarmed you.

“Why…?” You croaked, knowing full well you were not going to like his answer.

“Because the start of spring is when my kind mate, and at your current rate I wouldn't be surprised if you perished” he explained.with a chuckle. The involuntary groan that came out of your mouth was tame in comparison to the scream you were holding back. You wanted to claw at your own face at the thought. Of course this already horrible situation got a whole lot worse. You didn't even want to imagine the intricacies of that ordeal.

He'd probably gotten you to eat up to half of that bowl before he stopped, probably seeing the lethargic look on your face. You couldn't eat anymore or you'd be sick. He didn't seem pleased about your lack of an appetite but he hoped he could gradually get you to eat more.

He ended up eating what remained, not enjoying the cooked meat that was dry in comparison to the raw and even still living flesh he had partaken in.

#yandere jjba #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere risotto #monster au #🧚‍♀️ anon

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moonlight-tmd · 1 year ago

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LOL bee just makes himself a cocoon and nap :3

if he does end up napping all winter, how would the bot he's dating react for the first time and after? (could be blitz, prowl, or shock if ya want)

Hah, yeah. Bee would defo sleep off (most of) his first winter after being provided with so much comfy blankets and a heater. He stuff himself full of energon and oil and just goes to nap. He does wrap himself up in blankets like a cocoon- before he buried himself in an actual cocoon and after.

As i said in earlier posts on the AU, Prowl would be worried about Bee going offline if he's not in the right temperature. He does everything he can to provide Bee with warmth and as much fuel as needed. Bee loves to snuggle with Prowl when he's falling into hibernation and Prowl loves seeing Bee all comfy in his arms- he doesn't leave his side if not needed- only to refuel or for an emergency- If Sari wakes Bee up to play he'll scold her and be on watch the whole time Bee is playing out in the snow. The same thing happens every winter, Prowl is very worried about Bee even after he emerges from the cocoon.

Longarm(Shockwave) would just be confused af to why Bee isn't picking up his calls and then calls Optimus to know what the fuck is happening with his bf- he didn't know Bee was part-insecticon so that was a surprise, the hibernation protocol would explain why he's not responding. The next winter Longarm gives Bee the most comfy of blankets and pillows to hibernate on and even some high-nutrien energon so Bee doesn't run out of fuel in his system when he's hibernating. Longarm(Shockwave) loves to cuddle the newly-hatched Bee with all his fluff- even tho he's not big of a fan of organics, all that is thrown to the side cuz he just can't get enough of how cute Bee has gotten.

There is 2 routes for Blitzwing, they got together in Bee's 3rd year of being on earth, Blitz has been on the planet for a little over 1 year:

They're dating in secret- Blitz doesn't know what is happening, Bee just suddenly stopped showing up to their meetings when the snowfall happened. At first it was annoying but then he got worried, the longer it took the more dread of being abandoned yet again loomed over him. Then i imagine Bee, after being woken up by Sari to play, got stuffed with pure sugar and went out into the snowfall at night to meet Blitz, it was nearly 2 months since they last spoke... Blitzwing was about to leave, his Spark feeling crushed when he nearly bumped into cloaked Bee just coming from behind some trees. Blitz was so relieved and so worried cuz the moment he saw Bee all shaky and barely standing muttering the word 'cold' he took him to the nearest warehouse and lit a fire while also holding him close, it took great effort to stay mad at the little things and the cold that did this to Bee so his Hothead persona could warm Bee up like a heater. Once Bee was looking okay he was bombarded with questions; Bee was really sorry for having been absent for so long, of course he told Blitz the reason and what happened when it got cold. Blitz was having an internal fight for misassuming the reason and being grateful it was nothing serious. Bee of course gave him all the kisses he could muster in his sleepy state before needing to return to base cuz all the play in the snow earlier took a lot out of him. He promised Blitz that he'll come to meet him again as soon as the snow melts. Winters are so far the toughest of times for them, Blitzwing especially. He has to wait so long before seeing his beloved and he can't help but wonder how his little hummel looks like when he sleeps bundled up in blankets, all cozy.

If Blitzwing is openly dating with Bee and allowed in Autobot base, the moment Bee doesn't show up to their planned meeting twice, he's in on investigating shit- he'll go there and ask where, who and what. He's surprised to hear Bee's condition, Bee never told him- so he goes into his room and sees Bee all cozy in his berth. It utterly adorable. He just stays there and cuddles, pets and observes the tiny 'bot so comfy and cute in recharge. While he wishes Bee would wake up and talk with him he understands that Bee doesn't have control over it- the one time he visited when Sari woke him up he was so happy and surprised and a little worried. He spend the entire day playing and talking with him, Sari was jealous she got so little time to play with Bee.

In both scenarios, Blitzwing is surprised to see Bee change into a techno-organic but he loves him nonetheless and cuddles with him every chance given. Except Secret-Sparkmate Blitzwing has to suffer from not seeing his adorably cute Bee all cozy and sleepy til the spring comes.

that's all i got for the ships' reactions, thank you for reading!

#maccadam #tfa #ask box #blitzbee #prowlbee #shockbee #tfa au #part-insecticon!bumblebee au #long post #longbee

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zombie-rott · 1 year ago

Text

The Driftwood & The Rift; Part I.

Pairing: Mountain X Dew.

Summary:

Not everyone enjoys Yule. Least of all the ministry's favourite fire ghoul. Marred by his sordid past in the pit, Dew locks himself away to begin his yearly tradition, but with Swiss no longer there to control him, things get out of hand. And if he's going to be banished for his shameful behaviour, he might as well tell one of his oldest friends exactly where his feelings lie.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, blood, injury, ghouls kissing.

A03

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Yule time at the ministry was always filled with joyous energy. It was a time for the clergy members, siblings and ghouls alike to come together and celebrate the winter solstice. Every square inch of the hallways and arches was meticulously decorated with holly wreaths, mistletoe and the sweetest-smelling pine trees harvested from the local mountains. The smell of fresh baking wafted throughout the kitchen quarters, and there was a distinct increase in sweet treats available after every meal time. Everyone practically oozed festiveness and excitement for the upcoming days of celebration.

Almost everyone.

There were a few who simply detested the season. Dew was among those who rejected the holidays and always had done. The ringing in of the season brought with it what Swiss called Dew’s ‘hibernation’, where in the fire-ghoul spent more time in his room than he did with the pack. In years gone by Swiss often opted to keep Dew company, playing card games with him on Solstice eve and eating some meals with him on the floor by his bedside. But since his mating with Cumulus, the multi-ghoul had a new focus. And while he still very much loved his platonic soulmate, he had many things to celebrate and enjoy about the season that he hadn’t had before.

When Mother’s Night arrived, Dew went about his usual Yule tradition. After his chores, he arrived back to the den to grab a Tupperware box of food from the platter Mountain was creating. He gave subtle nods to Swiss in the living area and meekly waved to others as he passed them by in the halls. Once he was locked securely in his bedroom, he lined his nest with soft blankets and began his yearly hibernation until January first, when he would emerge hungover and eager to move past the holiday season. There were only two reasons he had to leave; the Yule ritual and the First Footing, neither of which band ghouls were permitted to miss.

Dew did his best to ignore the din of the ghouls celebrating in the common area by drowning them out with music from his record player. At one point there was a chorus of singing as the ghouls indulged in vodka and mulled wine. The fire ghoul, already three glasses of rum into his ritual, turned his music higher. Eventually, there came the hammering of knocks on his door, drawing him out of his sanctuary and across the cold, stone floor.

“Yeah?” Dew barked as stretched to look through the peephole.

Swiss was standing on the other side, his face blushing with intoxication and a toothy grin pulling at his lips. He had one arm slung around Cumulus and the other pulling Rain against his side.

“‘Mon out Dewy!” He slurred, “I know you hate Yule, but we miss you, man!”

“You can’t force him out, love,” Cumulus whispered to her mate.

“Yes we can!” Rain interrupted. He began to hammer at the door again, both his fists pounding the wood, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

Dew growled as his hackles began to rise and his blood started to simmer. He listened as Cumulus attempted to quiet the other ghouls, pleading with them to take it easy on their friend and respect his decision. But they wouldn’t let up, and Dew hissed as Swiss and Rain leaned into bang their fists once again.

Before their knuckles could hit the wood, he yanked open the door and met them both, fists raised, with a guttural snarl. His clenched jaw and exposed teeth caused the two excitable ghouls to lower their ears, both emitting a meek whine.

“Dew! I’m so sorry. They insisted on coming to see you.” Cumulus apologised, taking a subtle step backwards to avoid the heat radiating from the fire ghoul.

“S’okay Lus. You weren’t to know. But these two?” he turned his attention to Swiss and Rain,” Are you fucking kidding me?”

“We jus’ wanna’ include you, Dewdrop!” Rain whined, his arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture.

“You know damn fine I don’t want ‘included.’”

“But Papa is here-” Swiss interjected.

“So? I’ve food and rum. I don’t need Papa.”

Dew narrowed his eyes and hissed at them scornfully. Cumulus jumped, clasping her hands to her chest. She whispered her apologies and hurriedly ran back to the common area, leaving her mate and Rain behind.

“If I want to come out, then I’ll come out. Just assume I’m happy in my loathing of this shitty season, yeah?” The fire ghoul continued before slamming the door in their faces.

He didn’t even glance through the peephole to watch them leave, despite how amusing it would have been to watch them shuffle back to the pack, tails tucked between their legs.

His anger and frustration at their audacity made his skin crawl. Swiss, of all ghouls, knew how much Yule turned Dew’s stomach. They’d been best friends for years, and during that time had always spent the majority of the season together in a drunken stupor. Yet, the moment he finds himself a mate and experiences a slight resemblance of domestic bliss, he’s suddenly ‘Mr.Good-Tidings’.

Dew let out a deep growl at the thought, his claws practically itching to pull something apart. The palms of his hands spraked and lit with burning fury, and yet he knew there was nowhere for it safely to go. He’d danced with his anger many times before, and his walls bore the scorch marks to prove it. But he was a grown ghoul now, and more in tune with keeping his emotions and impulses under check. Even while tipsy on cheap rum, he wasn’t ready to let the beast break free. Not quite yet and not in the solitude of his sanctuary.

Taking several deep breaths he marched to the bathroom and turned his shower to the coldest temperature on the dial. He then grabbed hold of his rum bottle, stripped down and sat directly under the chill of the water. With each piercing droplet, he felt the heat within him dissipate. Gone was the far-off din of the ghoul pack, and with it went his hatred for his fellow kin.

All that was left behind was the bitter taste of alcohol as it guided him ever closer to numbness.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Dew awoke the next afternoon with a hangover resembling that of an earthquake breaking apart his skull. He groaned as he lifted himself from the floor of his room, cracking his limbs as he moved. While this was a normal part of his Yule ritual, Swiss was usually around to offer words of encouragement or at least solidarity in his suffering. But this year he was alone, and despite his internal temperature, cold.

From down the hall he heard the muted sounds of his ghoul kin preparing for the Winter Solstice feast. With the Sun Vigil long since finished at sunrise, Dew was in no doubt that the pack where giddy with excitement for that evening’s festivities, the thought bringing a bitter taste to his mouth. He would have to attend the ritual that night, or Sister would have his head.

Rubbing at his eyes, he staggered to the bathroom. The empty rum bottle lay sideways by the shower tray, water still pooled on the tiles and a damp towel was thrown across the sink. He bit back nausea as he brushed his fangs and pulled back his hair into a tight ponytail. But for what? Another day of drinking in solitude?

A persistent knocking drew him away from his haggard reflection.

“Dewdrop!?” Came the distinct voice of Phantom, usually ethereal but now shrill to the fire ghoul’s ears.

Dew pinched at the bridge of his nose and groaned. He reminded himself that this was Phantom’s first Yule, and the little bug didn’t know any better than to try and build bridges.

“Yes, Bug?” he called, his voice hoarse and alien in the silence of his room.

“I just wanted to check you’re okay.”

Despite his hardened shell, Dew felt his heart flutter. Satan below, he hated how weak it made him feel.

“I’m fine.” He bit back.

The knowledge that he was the resident ‘Grinch Ghoul’ wasn’t lost on Dew, and at times he even relished it. But for some reason, it wasn’t as fun when he didn’t have Swiss to wallow with him. Instead, he was left feeling like a bitter old man, angry at the world for daring to keep spinning. It was no one’s fault, least of all Phantoms.

With a sigh, he moved towards the door and opened it just enough to lock eyes on the younger ghoul. Phantom was bundled up in his usual oversized clothing, his fingers toying with the hem and his eyes wide like saucers. Their sparkle was lost, and that in itself turned Dew’s anger to nothing but embers.

“W-we’re having dinner soon. Do-do you want to join us?” the young ghoul stammered, his lips twitching upwards into a hap-hazard smile.

“I don’t do Yule dinner, Bug.”

“Oh...” Phantom looked downwards at his feet as he contemplated his next move.

“I’ll grab something later. Okay, kid? Don’t worry, I won’t starve in here.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Dew searched Phantom’s eyes only to discover genuine concern. Satan below, why did the little bug have to make this so damn difficult?

“Just leave me alone. That’s all there is to it,” he answered matter of factly before gently closing the door.

He didn’t even wait for a response, nor did he look back through the peephole. His only thought was on the bottle of whiskey waiting for him in his dresser and the solace he might find at the bottom of it.

Dew swore he heard Phantom whisper something akin to an apology, his voice shaking. He swore to himself that he’d apologise when the season was over, but this was his tradition and he wasn’t about to allow his softness for the newbie to change that.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

On the third day (or was it the fourth?) Dew found himself wrapped around the toilet, his stomach empty and twisting with nausea. Whiskey had never been his favourite drink. It always left him violently ill and often violent in nature. But there was no one to fight with but himself, and true to his fiery nature, that’s just what he’d done. Without Swiss to keep him in check, Dew had made quick work of breaking his bathroom mirror and cutting his knuckles in the process. He vaguely remembered wrapping his hand around a shredded shirt with full intentions of treating it when he ventured out for food. But he never got that far, and the rags were now soaked through with blood, the swollen flesh beneath them aching.

“Santanus,” Dew groaned as he sat upright.

With all the grace of a newborn deer, he struggled to his feet, wincing at the sensation of glass buried within the soles of his feet. Sighing, he hobbled to the safety of his nest and took in the chaos around him. His room was pulled apart, feathers from shorn pillows covering every surface and bloody footprints marring the stone floor.

“This is a tomorrow problem…” he whispered to no one in particular as he reached for his cellphone.

He unlocked the device and winced as the light hit his sensitive eyes. There were six messages and ten missed calls waiting for him. The first was from Swiss, reminding him that he was loved and missed by not only the multi-ghoul but also the rest of the pack. Then there was Cumulus, chiming in to tell him that she was praying for him and available if he needed to talk. The final four were, surprisingly, from Mountain.

Dew’s stomach twisted at the thought of food. It was just what he needed to cure his perpetual hangover and so he dragged himself to the door to retrieve his bounty. He pressed his ear to the wood, listening for any wayward ghouls patrolling the halls, and only when he was satisfied did he dare reach out for his tray of cold leftovers.

True to form, Mounty had left no stone unturned, going as far as to supply a bottle of still water, no doubt in fear for the fire-ghouls liver. He had piled the plate high with all matter of meats, vegetables and bread, completing the platter with a selection of different sauces.

The tray was no sooner uncovered than Dew was tucking into the mishmash of a meal. He hadn’t realised just how hungry he’d been until he’d started to eat, and his body was thankful for the nourishment. He even allowed his tail to wag with some resemblance of joy.

Dew carefully placed the empty tray outside his door and retreated into his sanctuary to open yet another bottle of alcohol. This time it was a bottle of red wine he’d snatched from the kitchens some weeks ago in preparation for his hibernation. But before he could even pop the cork, a shuffling could be heard from the hall. The sound of feet, but not the heavy footfalls of Mountain’s boots he had expected, rather the dull scuffing of dress shoes. Then, as expected, a knocking resounded throughout his small room.

Dew sat still, his hand hovering above the neck of the bottle, and waited for the visitor to move on. But they didn’t, instead, they dared to knock again.

“I would like to speak with you, Dew. Apri la porta, per favore.” Copia’s thick accented voice sounded from beyond the wood and the fire ghoul winced. Papa had never visited him during Yule. He had always promised to leave him alone under the agreement that he attend the Yule ritual.

“Shit.” Dew whispered to himself.

The ritual was held last night when he was knee-deep in a violent episode of shattered glass and defeathering pillows. He’d missed it and no doubt Sister had sent Copia here to project her fury.

“Give me a minute!” Dew called.

He hurried to tidy away the torn pillowcases and their contents into a hidden corner of his room, and grabbing a strip of fabric he attempted to wipe the dried blood from the stonework. But it was no use, and after several moments and more knocking, the fire ghoul gave up and prepared to accept his fate. With a deep breath, and his tail wrapped around his thigh, he pulled open the door to meet the gaze of Papa.

The clergyman’s eyes wandered up and down the ghoul, and then over his shoulder into the nest beyond. He pursed his lips before emitting a deep sigh.

“May I speak with you a moment?” If Copia was angry, his voice certainly didn’t give it away. Instead, it was laced with genuine concern.

Dew nodded, stepping aside to welcome him into his den. He whispered an apology for the mess, gesturing towards an empty armchair in the corner. Copia gingerly took a seat and waited for the fire ghoul to join him. But Dew nervously remained standing, the sudden realisation that he was dressed only in a pair of boxers, with his hair in a greasy bun and his body stinking of sweat and booze in the presence of Papa beginning to sink in. He had never allowed anyone, only Swiss, to see him like this. Least of all the clergyman.

“Ah – um – I wasn’t expecting anyone.” Dew stuttered, his voice shaking.

Why was he so anxious? He had a good relationship with Copia, and it’s not like Sister would go as far as to banish him for missing one Yule ritual. Right? Maybe it was the booze or the persistent hangover, but Dew felt like he was going to collapse.

“That’s quite alright. Won’t you sit for me, per pavore?” Copia’s voice was soft and calm, as if his senses weren’t being assaulted by the bitter scent of spirits oozing from the ghoul’s pores.

Nervously, Dew sat on the edge of his mattress. He reached for a discarded cushion and held it tight against his middle, his fingers fidgetting with the soft fabric.

“Do you know why I’m here, Dewdrop?”

Wordlessly, Dew shook his head, even though he was well aware of the reason for Papa’s visit.

“Last night was the Yule Ritual, and as you know all ghouls, specifically those currently involved in the Ghost project, are expected to attend. While I understand and respect your misgivings towards this time of the year diavolino, the church does not.” Copia sighed, clearly struggling with the task he’d been given, “I’m afraid that Sister has sent me here with a reprimand and a call for you to attend a hearing in her office on the first of January.”

Dew felt his blood run cold, a mighty feet for a fire ghoul. His claws extended into the pillow, clawing at the fabric while his mind raced to conclusions. Maybe she could banish him after all.

“Fuck.” He uttered, “Oh fuck.”

“Please try not to worry, Dew. This may only be a warning. Perhaps you’ll be given additional chores as punishment. And I will be there to fight your corner against anything else, si?”

But Dew couldn’t hear him, his thoughts already miles away back in the stinking depths of the pit. To the unwelcoming arms of his former pack. To starvation and endless hunger, both for nourishment and affection.

Sensing his distress, Copia made his way to sit beside the fire ghoul.

“Dew, diavolino, you must come back from your thoughts.” the clergyman placed a gloved hand on Dew’s forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze,”Non ti stressare.”

“What if she sends me back?”

“You? Non! You are too special. It is just a – how do you say it – slap on the butt?”

“You mean a slap on the wrist, right?”

“Si, that one.”

Dew pulled the cushion up to his chest and buried his face into it’s softness.

“I’ve fucked up, Papa. I swear I had every intention of going last night, but I just….lost track of time.”

“Excuse me for being so forward but,” Copia looked towards the mess of the room, his eyes lingering on the bloody footprints imprinted on the stone, before coming back to stare at the bloodied bandage on the ghoul’s knuckles,”It seems you have been spending a little too much time at the bottom of a bottle.”

“Is it that obvious?” Dew sighed, well aware that he wasn’t hiding anything.

“Truth be told, Phantom was quite concerned about you. This is his first experience with your Yule traditions, and understandably he was rather worried you’d hurt yourself.”

“How ironic.” Dew mummbled.

“Irony aside, I know that Swiss not being with you might make it easier to overindulge. But please be careful.”

Dew nodded, his face still buried in fabric.

“I need you to look at me diavolino, and promise that you will take it easy.”

Wordlessly, the fire ghoul brought his eyes up to meet Papa’s.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take it easy.”

Copia raised an eyebrow, unconvinced by the ghoul’s promise. But he had no time to run in circles. Instead, he gave two sturdy pats to Dew’s back and stood, ready to take his leave.

“I expect to see you at the First Footing ritual. I do not care if you show up drunk, stoned or naked; Just be there, si?”

“Si, Papa.”

With that, Copia bid Dew goodbye and saw himself out. The man’s scent had barely left the room before Dew had polished off half the bottle of his red wine.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Swiss made another attempt to connect with Dew on the fourth day. He and Cumulus came knocking at the fire ghoul’s door, bearing gifts and the promise of good company. On both occasions they were told, with no sugar coating, to ‘fuck off’.

But the multi-ghoul was never one to take no for an answer, especially not from his best friend, and so late on the evening of the fifth day, Swiss returned once again with two bottles of premium whiskey he’d bought for a local distillery.

“Do you want a drinking partner?” Swiss shouted through the door.

“I’m fine all by myself, thanks!” Dew slurred, his body slumped against the wood on the other side, “ ‘sides, I’ll only bring you down.”

“But I have the good stuff! This shit’s nearly older than Papa, can you believe it? It’s got to be good!”

Dew contemplated his offering. If he let Swiss in he’d have to make conversation, and even though the multi-ghoul was a good friend, words weren’t flowing as easily. He took a quick look around his den, taking in the blood-stained flagstones and broken bottles, before deciding that it wasn’t fit for entertaining. And nor was he, bloodied, bruised and smelling like garbage.

Misery didn’t want company, not this time.

“No thanks. I’m all set for booze in here.” Dew sighed heavily.

“Dew, dude – “

“Please. Just fuck off.”

Swiss fell silent, and Dew knew he’d struck a nerve. He rarely got angry with Swiss, and if he did it was often quick, firey and forward. But this was different; this was a burning irritation that made his blood simmer. Never before had the multi-ghoul’s voice grated on his nerves until now. Maybe it was the five-day bender? Or maybe it was the fact that Swiss had abandoned him for his new fuck-buddy when Dew needed him most? Either way, the fire ghoul was so done with the conversation that he dragged himself up off the floor and into the furthest point of his den just to get away from its presence.

He vaguely heard Swiss curse him out, telling him to stick his cheap wine up his ass before he stormed off back to the common area. And for a moment Dew felt an inkling of regret. But it was shortlived as he thought about how abandoned he felt, and how nothing fucking mattered anyway. This all was temporary. The pack, his den, the Ghost project, his time topside; all of it. Even his companionship with the multi-ghoul couldn’t last forever.

Dew downed the remainder of his wine and tossed the bottle against the wall. It smashed, sending shards of glass throughout the room, a painful reminder of how he felt inside.

Time became lost after that, and the fire-ghoul found himself midway through another bottle and on his seventh repeat of ‘Louder Than Bombs.’ His phone remained switched off and beneath his pillow, cutting any contact from the world outside his door and leaving him isolated in his bubble of self-pity and intoxication. Dew was, for lack of a better word, spiralling and there was nothing he wanted anyone to do about it.

Except for maybe – perhaps – Mountain.

As the ghoul lay along his nest, cigarette in his mouth and the neck of the wine bottle grasped tightly in his fist, he thought about the gentle giant. He thought about all the times he’d left food outside Dew’s door, knocking gently but never pressing. He thought about how the earth ghoul knew just where Dew’s line was drawn and made damn sure to toe it ever so carefully. And he thought about the simple things, like how he’d slide a bag of home-grown marijuana beneath the door, and always remembered to include a pack of rolling papers and a few pre-rolls.

This wasn’t the first time Mountain had displayed such genuine kindness to the fire ghoul. In fact, just like Dew’s yearly ritual was to wallow in self-loathing, Mountain’s was to make sure he got enough to eat and kept himself topside. He’d displayed patience when no one else had both during Yule and various other points in Dew’s existence. And while, yes, the earthly creature was mellow and compassionate to all members of his pack, there was always a little more room left for Dew than for anyone else.

As he took another swing of his wine and drew the last few puffs from his cigarette, Dew brought himself to sit upright on his bed. The moon was beginning to rise and somewhere down the hall, he heard the laughter of his ghoul-kin. His gut twisted and, despite himself, he felt tears welling in his eyes at the realisation of just how alone he was.

With a sigh, he reached for his cell phone and waited for it to turn on. When the screen booted up he was immediately assaulted with an onslaught of text messages and missed calls from various pack members. But there was only one thread his intoxicated mind was hellbent on opening.

Dew felt a smile pinch at the corners of his lips. Mountain always had a way of knowing just what he needed.

He stumbled to his feet, careful to avoid the broken glass, and hurried to the door. There, sitting upon the usual tray, was a plate piled high with mac, cheese and jalapenos. Mountain had even included a generous bag of weed, wrapped up nicely with a red ribbon and a letter attached. Dew all but snatched the tray and retreated into the safety of his nest. He perched himself back on the bed, his legs crossed over each other, and began to devour his meal with reckless abandon. The weed, he decided, could wait. Right now his stomach craved carbs and that was just what Mountain had blessed him with.

It was only afterwards when he was basking in the ecstasy of a flavourful meal, that Dew allowed himself to relax back into the softness of his nest and unravel the earth ghoul’s additional offering. He gently tore the note from the ribbon and squitted at Mountain’s cursive handwriting.

“I’m here if you want to talk. Please take care of yourself”

Dew felt his face drop and a tightness developed in his lungs. He brought the paper to his chest, careful not to crumble it, and allowed a soft whimper to escape his lips. Satan below, he wanted nothing more than to run to him and ask to be held in his strong, work-worn arms. Mountain always gave the best hugs. They were warm and gentle and allowed Dew to take in his calming, earthly aroma.

They used to curl up on the bus together during their time with Terzo. After Dew’s transformation, when the majority of his wounds had healed, Mountain was the one to hold him tightly when he would wake screaming in the night. Sure, Swiss was his platonic soulmate, but Mountain? There were no words to describe what the earth ghoul was to him. He had been there from the beginning; through fire and blood.

But there was nothing in Dew’s booze-soaked vocabulary to say back, lest he pour his heart out. Even in his current state of mind, the fire ghoul couldn’t stand the shame of it. Instead, he bundled up the empty cutlery and left it back to its usual spot outside his door, before constructing the only text he felt appropriate to reply with. Something simple, without any indication that, yes, he would very much like to talk. Even though it would do him the world of good to have a shoulder to cry on, it was outside Dew’s current repertoire to let anyone else know that.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Mountain’s routine of cooking Dew’s favourite meals continued for the next two days before something changed. On December twenty-seventh, the earth ghoul knocked as normal but didn’t leave the tray. Instead, he waited until Dew stumbled and staggered to crack open the door, revealing only a glimpse of himself to the world outside his bedroom.