#i got it for Christmas and have been wearing it a bunch lately

[abluehappyface]

I've decided that I'm going to post him anyway. Here's my redition of Ruko but he's Purple™. This was supposed to be a sketch, but it ended up being too good to leave alone lol. I saw someone else post a drawing of Ruko with body hair and I'm pretty sure it turned me slightly feral so I had to draw him with even more. I'm very proud it!

[cosmicporos]

What Arcane characters would gift you for Christmas!

Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Viktor, Jayce

(Semi crack Drabble… sorry for going super long with Viktor’s and Jayce’s HCs. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH)

(Jayce is Hispanic in my hc :3)

ENJOY AND HAVE FUN LOVE YALL<3

Not proofread

JINX

Hear me out… the first thing she would plan to gift you are decorated safety googles.

As a matter of fact everything she gifts you is handmade!

She knows you love to spend time with her when she’s in her workshop and the extra spare of googles she had were pretty crappy…

“Ugh, these old things? Pfft, they look like they’ve been through a freakin’ explosion… oh wait, they probably have! We gotta get you a new pair soon toots!”

They’d be totally decked out! Lots of character as she calls it.

“Okay toots check it out! Maximum protection but most importantly! They got style!”

The googles themselves would be in her classic style, very colorful paint, cute little heart scribbles all around! And of course lots of glitter….

“"I mean, you've got to stay safe while causing mayhem, right? And hey, if we're blowing stuff up together, you'll definitely need these. Plus, I made them perfectly for you. No one else will have goggles like these... trust me!"

I totally see her adding little handmade jewelry from her gears and spare parts, would totally make you a belt or choker out of spare bullets.

Vi

She would totally panic on what to get you for Christmas. Like what if you suddenly hate the thing you’ve loved since the very beginning she’s known you???

Would end up both buying and making you something!

She’s make you something small but meaningful

“Okay Okay fine! You can open mine now. Just don’t laugh too hard Cupcake…”

You’d open the poorly wrapped gift to uncover a bright pink scarf she knitted you! The stitching is a mess.. there a hole’s through the project (no doubt a missed stitch) but in all honesty it so cute you feel like your heart might explode.

"Yeah, I know I'm not, uh, the best at this kind of thing," she mutters, scratching the back of her neck, "but I figured you could use something to keep warm... and, you know, 'cause it's winter. And... you're important to me."

Guys please tell her she did an amazing job PLEASE.

She would also totally buy you a pair of combat boots! Totally saved up for months in advance.

She loves the idea of being able to match and have a bit of her style on you!

Ekko

Just like Jinx (sobs) he’d also make something for you!

The first thing he’d give you would be a little sketch book full of drawings of you from random moments throughout your relationship he remembers oh so clearly.

"I've been working on it for a while... It's... it's just a bunch of drawings. I mean, not just anything. Stuff that made me think of you. Stuff we've done, or things I hope we do. I don't know, it just felt like the best way to show how I feel about... well, us."

Okay he would also totally make you matching jewelry (matching clock hand necklaces?)

You’d force him to take the hour hand since it’s shorter (heheheh little man)

Once you explain your reasoning as to why he should take the smaller one he sighs disappointedly…

"Okay, okay, I get it," he finally says, a little less playful now, his voice softening. "I guess if you want me to wear it, I can..."

Then, a grin creeps back onto his face as he adds, "But don't think I'm letting you off the hook with the minute hand. You're wearing that one for sure." He places the hour hand necklace around his neck, the smaller pendant resting there, and looks up at you with that mischievous gleam in his eye.

He pauses, holding up his necklace, "I'm still the one with the bigger job. You'll just have to keep up." A proud smug smirk now rests on his face.

Viktor

FUCK WHERE DO I BEGIN I LOVE THIS MAN

o k a y. He would just like Vi panic… not because he doesn’t know what to get you but because he totally is going Christmas shopping late… very very late.

As much as I would love to say he’d make some little invention to make your day easier and give it to you for Christmas I don’t see it happening.

Not because he wouldn’t do it but because he already does it all the time! A little example, you’re late for work often? A little robot that hits you with a plastic squishy hammer every morning at 7 am waking you up when he can’t!

He’d definitely want to make Christmas special, I see him buying you something and then doing something special for you too!

Christmas morning would be greeted with warm hugs and kisses along with an even warmer bowl of potato soup!

He wanted to make sure he perfected his mother’s Bramboračka recipe. It was a once a year meal him and his mother shared every Christmas day.

He’s not a good cook by any means�� but this is the one dish he can make and oh boy can he make it.

"Don't expect perfection," he says with a small, self-conscious smile, as you catch him sneaking a taste of the soup. Viktor looks up, his gaze softening. "I hope you like it," he says, and despite his usual perfectionism, there's a quiet pride in his voice. You take a sip, and the rich flavors of mushrooms, potatoes, and herbs immediately comfort you, just like his mother's love must've comforted him all those years ago.

OKAY for the making gift he planned I see him commissioning something due to the fact a lot of his inventions lack aesthetics.

Specifically I see him commissioning a music box that functions as a a jewelry box as well! He would have loved to make it himself but he was worried he wouldn’t have gotten the look right.

"Do you like it?" he asks, his voice softer than usual, as if he's worried about the reception. "I had it made... I thought... it might remind you of us."

The detail was breathtaking-floral patterns etched into the surface, with tiny gears and delicate metalwork accenting the edges. The craftsmanship was stunning, and you couldn't help but run your fingers over the smooth finish.

you lifted the lid, and a gentle, lilting melody began to play. It was slow and sweet, a tune that felt timeless, and as you stared at the tiny figurines inside, your breath caught.

His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his cane, his gaze flicking between you and the music box. "I commissioned it," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I had the craftsman use a sketch I made. It's how I see us... in my mind. How I feel when I hold you." He paused, his expression softening. "I thought... I thought you deserved something that would remind you of that. Of... how much you mean to me."

Jayce

Oh hon… Jayce would spoil you rotten.

I’m talking presents are overflowing underneath the tree.

You thought you lost your favorite piece of clothing? WRONG! He commissioned for more to be made in different colors and textures for you.

All the fragrances in the world he knew you would enjoy.

Cozy adorable pajamas we would give you Christmas morning so you could cuddle up drinking hot chocolate.

Spends Christmas Eve spoiling you and cuddling and being so tooth rottenly sweet.

It’s Christmas Eve, the scene was almost overwhelming. The living room looked like a perfectly curated holiday catalog-twinkling lights, a roaring fireplace, and, of course, an absurd number of gifts. Jayce sat cross-legged beside the tree, an excited grin lighting up his face as he handed you the first box. He had merely grinned, sheepish yet unrepentant. "What can I say? I got carried away?.”

"Open this one first," he urged, nearly vibrating with excitement. Inside was a bottle of an exquisite fragrance, the glass etched with delicate, swirling designs. It smelled divine-rich, warm, and entirely you.

"I figured you'd like that," he said eyes carefully watching everyone expression you make. You swear if he had a tail it would be swishing uncontrollably right now.

Christmas Day would be you spending Christmas day at his mother’s house!

(Listen I’m hc them as hispanic because for one HIS MOMS NAME HIS XIMENA… and two because why not :3 )

You have a great relationship with his Mother, she absolutely adores you and sees you as her daughter.

There’s lots of yummy food she’s prepared… perhaps too much for just 3 people?

Nonetheless, a pot of pozole, tamales de puerco and de dulce! And of course she made jayce’s favorite choco flan!

God she urges to to eat until you nearly pop! You have to undo your belt by the end of the night…

"Come, sit!" his mom insisted, pulling out a chair for you. "Jayce told me you've never had my tamales. That's a crime! Here, start with this." She placed one on your plate, her eyes twinkling.

Jayce sat beside you, his grin widening as you took your first bite. "Good, right?" he asked, nudging you playfully.

You could only nod, savoring the perfectly seasoned masa and tender filling.

Later in the evening, when everyone was too full to move, Jayce leaned over and slipped his hand into yours. His eyes were soft, his voice low as he said, "I'm glad you're here. This—" he gestured to the lively scene around you, "—feels perfect with you."

[watchmegetobsessed]

UNMATCHED II.

A/N: soooo you guys were just as horny for a part 2 to this story as i was so here we are, giving in to the temptation. disclaimer, i know their behavior is giving red flag energy but lets just put that aside for the sake of the story now lol

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

WARNING: sexual content, age gap, student-professor relationship

SUMMARY: Harry has been trying his best to forget what happened with Y/N, he is set on never making the same mistake, but it seems like fate has different plans for him.

PART 1 | MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

That skirt. That goddamned skirt. That’s gonna be the death of Harry. 

And also the fact that she went back to that asshole. 

Sitting in the busy school cafeteria Harry has zoned out of the conversation at the table a long time ago, precisely when he saw Y/N stroll in wearing that short skirt with that dickhead she should have ditched already or better, she shouldn’t have even dated him in the first place. But now they are moving in the line with their group of friends and he has his hand on her waist and it keeps inching lower, just a few more inches and his hand could be slipping under her skir–

“Harry? Hello?” 

Stella catches his attention and he is forced to move his focus back to his colleagues at the table. 

“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” He clears his throat and keeps his eyes on his half-eaten sandwich in front of him. 

“What’s up with you? You haven’t been your usual self lately.”

“Just… tired. I’m behind with my research and have a bunch of papers to grade before winter break.”

“The joys of being a teacher,” Stella chuckles. “Don’t worry, it’ll get better with time.”

“Really?”

“No,” she smirks at him. “But you’ll care less.”

She soon returns to the conversation at the table and Harry finds himself looking for Y/N again. There’s no trace of her in the line, but he is quick to spot her at a table across the dining hall, sitting beside Dickhead who has an arm around her neck, keeping her close as he wants everyone to know that they are together.

And it irks Harry way more than it probably should. 

It’s been a little over a week since Stella’s Christmas party and also that very heated and very wrong kiss he shared with Y/N. That weekend was like hell, he kept beating himself over and over about it, cursing himself out for being so stupid and reckless. He still has no idea what came over him that let him make out with a student, but he knew one thing for sure: it couldn’t happen again. 

So when Y/N walked into the classroom before his first lecture early on monday he didn’t even let her speak before he got to the point. 

“It shouldn’t have happened. I’m so sorry for it, but I can’t undo it now. I suggest let’s pretend nothing happened, it’s for the absolute best. No one can know about it and it will never happen again.”

She seemed taken aback by his outburst, but after a bit of hesitation she nodded.

“Okay. Nothing happened. It must have been the wine.”

“Yes,” he agreed right away. “We both drank more than we should have and made a mistake.”

She flinched at his last word, but didn’t protest, only nodded, holding her textbooks tighter to her chest. She looked so sad, even disappointed that Harry almost wanted to take back what he just said, but he knew he couldn’t. 

“Are you… okay?” he dared to ask, but when she looked at him again, her eyes told nothing. 

“I’m fine. I’ll see you in class, professor.”

And she was out of the classroom before he could say another word. In class she sat in the back and not even once did she look at him. He knows, because he kept looking at her. 

He’s been trying his best to get her out of his head, but with not much luck. Not when all he can think about is how soft her lips felt against his, how insanely good she tasted mixed with the coldness of the night, how amazingly she fit into his palm, the curve of her neck, back, waist and hips… and how badly he wants to experience it again even though it’s the worst possible idea. 

Harry thinks he is going insane. Genuinely. 

He’s been burying himself into work, but his focus has been all over the place, so it’s been more like a waste of time. He is one of the last ones in the building today as well. Most professors left a long time ago, but the lights in Harry’s tiny office are still on as he is hunched over a stack of papers. When he has to read over the same line for the twentieth time he drops his pen with a tired groan and leans back in his chair. He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes roughly, until he is practically seeing stars. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, staring at the papers that are still waiting to be graded. Checking the time on his phone he is surprised to see that it’s already past seven.

He stands from his chair and steps to the window. The campus looks quiet at this time, only a few students are walking towards the dorm that’s next to the literature department’s building. It’s a wednesday night, the semester ends next week so some lucky students who have no more exams left in the year have already left for the holidays. Harry will be going home right before Christmas, he plans to use those few days of the break to work on his research in peace. 

From his window he sees part of the parking lot next to the dorm, it’s quite dark there, he almost doesn’t notice the figures sitting in the car closest to him, but a few heartbeats later realization hits him.

It’s Y/N and the dickhead. 

They are pretty far, but Harry can tell that they are in a heated fight, judging from how Y/N is gesticulating. Obviously he can’t hear them, but if he had to guess he would say she is shouting, from what he can see. 

For a moment he tells him to just ignore the scene, it’s none of anyone else’s business, let alone his. But when he sees the asshole slap his hands against the wheel several times, making Y/N jump, Harry is moving before he could second guess his actions. 

He practically sprints down that stairs, already trying to figure out how he’ll interject without appearing like a creep, but he forgets all his plans when he is marching towards the parking lot and sees the scene unfold from up close. 

At some point they must have gotten out of the car, because Harry catches the dickhead getting back into the driving seat, Y/N is crying and tries to stop him from shutting the door, but he swings it with such force that she stumbles forward, holding onto the handle. When Harry sees her almost fall to the asphalt he starts running, just as the car comes to life and he drives away so fast, he almost runs over Y/N’s feet. 

“Fuck you, Charlie! Fuck you!” She screams after the car, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Harry rushes over to her, grabs her by her shoulders and turns her away from the direction of the car. “Hey, what happened?”

She is gasping for air from the crying as she wraps her arms around her, those beautiful eyes that are usually filled with curiosity are now full of confusion and hurt. 

“Y/N, look at me,” he begs and she hiccups a few times before she finally looks him in the eyes. 

“H-Harry?”

He ignores how good it feels to hear her call him by his first name again and tries to focus on the situation.

“Yeah. Let’s get inside, okay? It’s freezing cold.”

She nods and lets him steer her towards the building and up to his office. By the time she sits in the old armchair in the corner of his office she has stopped sobbing, but her expression looks just as miserable as before. 

“I’ll make you a tea. Do you like tea?” he asks, stepping over to the tiny side table where he keeps his kettle and tiny tea collection with two mugs. She nods and he is quick to turn on the kettle. He grabs a chamomile filter and drops it into one of the mugs and while the water boils he hands her a box of tissues that she accepts with a quietly murmured thank you. 

When the tea is done he hands her the mug and sits in his chair, unsure what to say. He definitely did not plan to have her in his office anytime soon and definitely not like this. 

“Go on, lecture me about being with him,” she says at last, staring into the mug in her hands. 

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“But you’d be right.” She looks up at him, eyes still red from the crying. 

“Why did you go back to him?” he softly asks, not wanting to make her feel even worse. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, looking away again. “He could be convincing, I guess.”

“Hope you won’t believe him after this.”

“No,” she chuckles bitterly before taking a sip from the tea, leaning back in the armchair. “Not even the sex will convince me to go back to him.”

Harry’s muscles jump at her words. Not because he is such a prude, but because instantly he is thinking about sex… and her… and his body reacts involuntarily. Clearing his throat he crosses his legs and looks anywhere but at her.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” she chuckles softly, but she doesn’t seem sorry at all. 

“No, I… um…” Harry has no idea what to say. This feels like such an impossible situation, he is definitely walking on eggshells here and the fact that he is semi-hard does not help his case. 

While he is looking for the right words she places her mug to his desk and crosses her legs, a curious look playing in her eyes as she is looking at him. She appears calm and confident suddenly, like she wasn’t sobbing ten minutes ago. 

“I lied,” she then speaks up.

“About what?”

“I know why I went back to him.”

“Oh. Okay, why did you?”

She holds his gaze for one… two… three seconds before her lips part, then she hesitates for one more moment before answering. 

“Because I couldn’t go to you.”

A shiver runs down his spine at her words, his body is betraying him already, but he hangs onto the last bit of his rationality.

“Y/N, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t tell the truth?”

“We agreed that we are not talking about it again.”

“I’m not talking about that night. I’m talking about how badly I’ve been wanting you, but knowing I can’t have you I went back to Charlie even though I knew I shouldn’t have.” 

“Y/N…” His mouth is dry and he feels ridiculously hot even though the heating hasn’t been working too well lately in his office. He is clawing at the arms of his chair, trying to keep the remains of his cool, though it feels like he is hanging on a thread.

“I won’t do anything about it, don’t worry. And I won’t bring it up again.” She sounds different this time, the confidence has turned into what feels like disappointment and it lurches something in Harry’s gut. 

Standing she smoothes her clothes before looking at Harry, a tiny sliver of expectancy glistening in her eyes. 

“Thanks for the tea. I better get going.”

She is already moving towards the door when Harry jumps to his feet, entirely lost about what to think, do or say. He strides after her and just when she is about to reach for the knob, he grabs her other hand, stopping her mid action. 

But he has no idea why he just did that. His rationality is screaming at him, but with each passing moment he spends holding her hand, the noise gets farther and farther away until it’s lost somewhere in the back of his mind. 

Slowly, she turns her head, eyes taking in the sight of their touching hands before her gaze meets his. He instantly stumbles back, letting go of her like she was on fire, but she doesn’t seem surprised. Instead, she turns around and just stands there, with a calm, but determined look on her face. 

“Careful professor,” she then speaks up. “I might take your actions as a hint.”

“A hint…” he breathes out, almost mesmerized with her, he is convinced she’s put a spell on him, because he can’t move or think straight, he just keeps staring at her.

“Yes, a hint,” she nods shortly. “That you want me just as much as I want you.”

He swallows down a moan that almost slips through his lips at her words. His whole body is burning for her, palms sweating and itching to touch her and he can almost taste her on his tongue again, desperate to pick up from where they left off not long ago. 

The tiniest smirk tugs on the corners of her mouth when she sees just how much he is struggling and she takes it as her queue to push her luck just a bit further. She takes a step closer to him, but still leaves some space between them, wanting him to close those last inches. 

“You know you can have me.” She cocks her head to the side, blinking up at him innocently. “Right here, on your desk or in that armchair. I want to be your good girl and take whatever you give me.”

“Stop it,” he manages to breathe out, but all his strength is gone, it sounds more like a plea rather than an order. 

“What if I don’t?” she sassily questions. “Will you punish me?”

Harry whimpers. They both know he is close to breaking and she is not stepping down now and she’s determined to push him over the edge. Slowly she reaches up, drags a finger across her lips before moving then down, tugging at her shirt at her chest, revealing more of the exposed skin there, then she starts playing with the top button, all while keeping her eyes focused on him. He sucks on his breath, his gaze keeps switching between her eyes and what her fingers are doing. 

Then it pops open, revealing the delicious swell of her breasts and a bit of the lacy bra as well and he knows he is gone. 

“Close the curtain,” he simply orders and a sudden rush of excitement washes over her as she quickly moves across the room, drawing the curtains on the window and turning around she is expecting him to be in the same spot, but to her surprise he is right there and before she could say a word, his lips crash down on hers with such force she would have fallen back if he didn’t already have an arm around her waist. 

His other hand is quick to find its way to her throat first, then to her jaw, angling her head perfectly so he can devour her. 

He spins them around and she gasps when her ass meets the edge of his desk, still kissing her he pushes forward, blindly tossing everything on the desk aside to make room, something clatters as it falls to the ground but neither of them cares to even look. His hands are on the back of her legs and he helps her up until she is sitting on top of the desk. 

She eagerly opens her thighs and circles her legs around his hips, pulling him closer and when she feels just how hard he already is, pushing against her clothed center, she can’t help but moan at the sensation. 

“It’s a one time thing,” he pants when her fingers start to work on his shirt and his hands find the button of her jeans. 

“Sure,” she breathes out smiling.

“Just to get it out of our system.”

“Of course,” she nods eagerly, and a moment later she is tugging his shirt off his shoulders. 

Buttons come undone, clothes are thrown across the room and soon enough all of his focus is on her naked chest, his hands exploring the tender, heated skin before his head dips down and his mouth meets her hardened nipples. 

“Oh fuck,” she moans, head falling back as she has an arm around his shoulders, the other one planted behind her on the desk. All while his hands are tugging down her jeans, finally giving him the chance to touch her inner thighs, exploring the warmth and softness he’s been fantasizing about for so long. 

He gently bites on one of her nipples, making her back arch, burying his face between her breasts before he leans back to get rid of her jeans. She has a moment to admire his naked torso, all the tattoos he’s been hiding under his clothes, his pants are hanging around his knees and his erection is throbbing through the fabric of his underwear. She can’t help but smile at the sight, it’s surely one she’ll remember forever.

When her jeans are discarded on the floor he plants his hands on her thighs and pushes them wide open, revealing her drenched panties. He brings his thumb over the wet fabric, lazily drags it over her clit, making her tremble under his touch. Then keeping eye contact with her he pulls his chair under him, sits down and rolls closer so his face is perfectly lined up with her. With his eyes still locked on hers, he leans forward, moves her panties to the side and places a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to her throbbing clit, making her moan so loud, he digs his fingers into her thighs pulling back. 

“You need to be quiet,” he warns her and she just eagerly nods, watching him take her underwear off completely and go back to where he was a moment ago. 

Harry drinks up her taste, he licks, kisses and sucks on the right spots, making her see stars as her orgasm is building up. When she feels two of his fingers slip into her she grabs a handful of his hair, tugging on it. 

But right when she is about to tip over the edge he pulls back, leaving her in a heaving mess. Reaching into one of his drawers he grabs a condom and standing up he watches her lying on his desk, chest rapidly rising and falling while he rolls the condom on. 

To his surprise, she gets up and jumps off the desk, taking the initiative by pushing him down back into the chair and straddling his lap. His hands are quick to move to her ass as his cock wedges between her drenched folds. He hisses when she starts rolling her hips, making them both even more feral for what’s about to come. 

She leans forward and kisses him, her hand reaching down between them until it finds his cock. She gives him a few lazy strokes to which he hums lowly into her mouth. Then she stops her kisses, lips still brushing against his, eyes meeting again as she lifts herself up just enough to angle him underneath her and then slowly she eases down, letting him enter her inch by inch until she is filled entirely. She gasps at the feeling of her walls stretching around him and they both stop for a few moments, just savoring how perfectly they fit together. 

She plants both her hands to the base of his neck, kisses him again and starts moving her hips. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good,” he groans, locking his arms around her, fingers digging into her naked back and side as she starts to slowly pick up her pace, bouncing on him. 

When he starts thrusting upwards, meeting her movements, her head rolls back from how deep she feels him inside her, his tip reaching the perfect spot. 

“Yes, right there!” she gasps as he buries his head in her neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin while keeping his rhythm. “I’m so close,” she breathes out, her hands raking through his messy hair. 

Wanting even more friction she adjusts herself and then starts moving faster and rougher, aching for the release. She looks down, her eyes meet his gaze and she just knows he is as close as she is. 

“Harry,” she moans and hearing his name fall from her lips is what pushes him over the edge.

Grunting, his thrusts get rougher and fall out of their fast pace, he pushes into her over and over again as he fills the condom and watching him fall apart helps her let go as well. He feels her walls tighten around him while he is still riding out the afterwaves of his own orgasm, her mouth hangs open, nails digging into his shoulders so harshly they surely leave marks. 

Then they both slowly come off their high and she leans forward, capturing his lips in a much softer kiss than the ones they’ve shared just minutes ago. He gladly returns, their lips melt together and his fingers gently roam her naked back while he is still inside her. 

They’re quiet when she moves off him and grabs a few tissues to clean herself up while he discards the condom. The clothes are picked up from the floor one by one and a sense of unsureness settles between them as they both get dressed. 

She was the only thing on his mind just five minutes ago, but now that the sex haze is gone, his thoughts start racing. What did he do? What will happen now? This shouldn’t have happened but still, he wants to do it again and again and again. 

As if she knew he was panicking inside, she steps to him, takes his face in her hands and pulls him into a long, passionate kiss that instantly makes him forget about everything else. 

“Don’t overthink it,” she whispers against his lips. “We’re adults.”

“I’m your teacher,” he hums.

“The semester is almost over. Grade my last paper and we’re done,” she simply says with very little care about his current status. But he is not that sold on it just yet, hesitation and worry is all over his face. “Did you not want it?”

“You know how much I wanted it,” he admits defeatedly. 

“Great. I wanted it too. And I want it again. So I’ll come by tomorrow again. You’ll bend me over that desk after I had your cock in my mouth, then tell me what grade I’m getting for the semester and we do it again after that.”

He is already feeling himself getting hard again. Deep down he knows he should say no, but he has no will left to fight with himself anymore. So all he does is nod and then kiss her. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, professor.” She grabs her coat from the floor and then walks out of his office like nothing happened. 

Harry falls into his chair and assesses the mess on and around his desk, staring at the spot where she was sitting not long ago. He knows he is making his biggest mistake ever, but sinning has never felt this good.

And right now he is willing to take this risk.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[writingwisterias]

Hey hey!!

You can ignore this if you aren't comfortable but I was wondering if you have any ideas for how different eras Leon would react or handle drunk gf? Smth like been out with the girlies or asking him for a ride home? Go crazy!

Low key started thinking about it after a minor drunken injury weeks ago (all good!)

Hi Anon!

I'm sorry this late, I hope you are okay lmao! We have all been there at some point 👀...I've never fallen down some stairs or whatever

Hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: Fluff, Drunk!Reader,

Fem!Reader

RE2:

You went to a house party, Leon didn't feel like going though so he stayed behind

He trusted you not to do anything stupid and find your own way back.

That was until he got a call from you that you had been left by your friends and needed him to come and pick you up

He left immediately, pulling up to the location in his jeep with a smile at your state

Had to catch you as he helped you into the car as you tripped on the pavement

The entire ride you are chatting to him about all the gossip. He doesn't care who kissed who that night. Your smile and adorable giggles made his night

Caved when you asked for fast food - with the idea it will sober you up a little bit at least.

RE4R:

I feel like he would like a quieter life but when he meets you and you drag him around everywhere.

He doesn't complain he just goes with the flow, he'll have a few drinks etc to make the time more bearable but never as much as you.

It's cute though, how you'll go out onto the dance floor with a bunch of your friends all stumbling about together

Then you will stumble back over to him, placing a kiss that tasted like whatever you were drinking. A hug that was more you leaning on him than an actual hug

He never prompted you to come back, he was content observing you from the bar, his ass going numb from the bar stool.

When it is time to go home, he's dragging you to a cab. Your leaning on him chattering about whatever was on your mind

Thoughts going by so fast he can barely keep up with you. Changing topics like every 5 seconds

Infinite Darkness:

Encourages you to drink more, he's the type that's willing to be the sober one if he needs to be or at least only limiting himself to a few drinks to make sure you get back safely

He has to drag you out the bar towards the end of the night, your goodbye with the girls is dragging on far too long

The walk back is painful, your stumbling everywhere and so slow to the point he just beds his back and braces his knees

You're hard to carry on his back only because you find it so funny but eventually you pass out

When you do you are like dead weight but don't worry he can take it, he's fought things that are heavier than you

Damnation:

He's drunk with you lets be honest, you are both as bad as each other

Prefers to stay at home and drink so you will too

If you host a girls night he'll happily leave the room and sit in your bedroom so you have the space

The girls don't mind him being there they understand you barely see each other so they are fine with him joining in

When he does, he'll suggest things like board games or card games

For Christmas he'll get you loads of drinking games to play either together or with your friends

Finds it funny when you get the couple drinking games

RE6:

You woke him up from sleeping on the sofa when you called him to pick you up

He's fighting you for an answer as to where you are.

Eventually he just drives to the usual bars not hanging up of course

Finds you just aimlessly wandering down the streets. Pulls over and has to gently guide you into the car

Your moaning about how you have your boyfriend on the phone and he's coming to get you until you realize it's him

He'll give you his jacket in the car so you stay warm, after all the outfit your wearing wouldn't have kept you warm

Loves the gossip you collect and will let you ramble about. There's just something distracting about who kissed who compared to his usual thoughts or conversations with his friends

Vendetta:

The guy would be drunk with you, out and about with your friends whatever. He's with you

And considering he's drank a lot in the film before he starts doing anything I would say he's the type of drunk that you can't actually tell he is until you see the drink

So he's more helpful than you in going home

He's dragging you down the street, pulling you into his side so you stay close

If you fall over he's just sighing and laughing at you

It's almost like two toddlers walking down a street together, they don't know where they are going or how to get there but they do eventually

If you ask for his jacket he'll give it to you but he won't just do it on his own will. He's not really thinking straight

Death Island:

He's smart enough to turn on your phone location before you go out so when you do call him, he's there like instantly

He will sit you down on the bathroom counter and force you to tell him what your skin care routine is as he knows you'll be upset you didn't do it

Will eventually get you to write a step by step process and pin it to his bathroom mirror so he knows in advance

Probably just throws on one of his t shirts instead of finding your own clothes

Listens to your drunken talks until eventually you fall asleep cuddles into him

[gladiatorcunt]

- IF YOU GOT TIME, THEN I GOT TIME

baby just relax and ride

cw: unedited, MDNI 18+ content, fem reader, blowjobs underneath the misletoe, season 9!spencer reid, piss kink mentions, dubcon somnophilia (like they didn’t talk about it but he’s into it), slight obsessive behavior (from reader), pregnancy mention, reader’s sensory issues, scent kink, one implication of pseudocest/incest kink, soft dom!spencer at the end, borderline cock slut reader, an age gap if you squint

note: title & subtitle from use your heart by swv.

please do not copy, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinkmas

This isn’t your first Christmas with Spencer, but something just feels different about this one. It snowed all night; the flurries might even still be going this late in the morning. You’ve convinced your boyfriend to take some time from work, he’s gone after his job with BAU like moth to a flame, but you had to tell him that it’s early still in his career (you use that excuse even though it’s been almost a decade since he’s started there). It wouldn’t hurt to be out of the office so he could enjoy the holidays with his very supportive and stunningly attractive partner.

You’re still riding the high of getting a breathy chuckle out of him as leaned over your side of the bed to reach the phone, making the call.

This Christmas morning is your time to suck the life out of your pretty boyfriend, his first gift of the day.

You reach down into the pocket of your sleep shorts and pull out a small piece of mistletoe. You’re already cringing a bit at yourself, but you’re stifling giggles as well. It takes every bit of your focus to creep back into the master bedroom after groggily doing your morning routine (even though your minty fresh breath is going to be replaced by the smell of Spencer’s cum).

The brown plush carpet sinks beneath your feet as you step towards the bed. Spencer’s sound asleep, he must be really exhausted if all your shuffling around and bumping into shit hasn’t startled him awake. You’re normally the deeper sleeper, your mouth leaking drool onto the pillow under your cheek. Spencer made a mini photo album of all the times he’s caught you like that; you teared up when he thought you would’ve flown off the handle.

His recently cut hair is smushed against the pillow and in that moment, you think you’ve beaten the grinch. Your heart grows a million sizes too big and throbs in your ribcage. Every day you’re surprised to rediscover just how much you can love somebody, how much of their love you can hold inside you until you burst.

Your breathing pattern stutters, suddenly it’s all you can think about as you gingerly climb onto the bed, a somewhat awkward left knee first approach. Spencer’s lanky limbs are sprawled over enough of the bed for you to have to squint so you don’t skewer than poor man. You forgot to put your glasses on the nightstand, and they must have fallen in between the mattress in the headboard while you slept, fuck.

“Spence.” You whisper, testing the waters.

“Spencer, big brother.” You whisper louder, using a nickname that you know your boyfriend likes more than he lets on.

His nose scrunches up, but he makes no sudden movements. You breathe a sigh of relief and peel back the covers, planting your right knee into the bed and bringing the left over the bunched-up fabric. You pull the green comforter & sheet set over your shoulder and scoot closer until you’re able to be in the middle of his spread legs.

Your vision is significantly darker now with the covers practically obscuring your head, but you swear you could pinpoint Spencer’s crotch in a room full of cropped underwear modeling photos.

You can tell that he’s wearing the pair of white briefs you bought him because you like how the style enhances his small ass, they smell too fresh to have been worn a decent amount of time. You’re excited for when the musk will start to come through, but Spencer’s extremely on top of washing clothes, both yours and his. You have to earn his sweat and grime.

Another day, maybe even later today after you open presents. It always makes you happy to get something that takes the stressful look off Spencer’s face, which snowballs into you getting turned on and trying suck him off right then.

You hold the piece of mistletoe above his crotch and dip forward to kiss the tip of his cock through his underwear, a habit of yours that Spencer finds so endearing. You can hear him call you cute even if he’s deep asleep, he’s probably praising you in his dreams anyway.

You check to see if he’s woken up, lifting the covers just enough to peek through. You dive back under when Spencer only scratches his nose in his sleep and grunts.

His underwear comes off slowly, you’re not trying to spoil the surprise too soon. Each of his ankles receives a tender peck as you guide Spencer’s briefs off and set them by your knee.

You don’t need light to know how pretty your boyfriend’s cock is, the full bodied thwap it makes against his stomach already has your pussy throbbing. You pick the mistletoe back up and hold it above him one more time, but over his balls instead, a 2 for 1 deal just for him. They’re so full and hefty in your mouth as you suck on them one by one, french kissing his sack. Your heart hurts for him, it must be painful to be so pent up.

Spencer hasn’t taken the recent lack of sex out on you, not when it’s his job that keeps his cock out of your pussy more than anything else. That’s another reason why you’re doing this, you’ve learned that you have to make time for each other if you hope to still be in a relationship, and this is you doing that. Your knees hurt, bent too far for too long, but nothing’s gonna take your mouth off his hardening cock, maybe not even him. You’re aiming to be the perfect little wife; everybody knows the number one job of a perfect wife is anticipating your husband’s needs and bending over backwards to fulfill them.

You take a hot second to mash your nose against his shaft and breathe in deeply, the faint scent of his body wash mixed with the natural odor of his body settles into your jowls and coats your tastebuds. You should’ve brought a bottle to store a few drops of his sweat in your purse for the times when you need a sweet little treat. You wouldn’t need your vanilla musk perfume oil if you had that, but you can reign your obsession in, you don’t need to go crazy on Christmas.

Fuck, he smells so good you could cream your panties on the spot. You’re not one of those girlfriends who bite the shit out of their boyfriends, no, you just have to huff Spencer like he’s a sharpie you could get high on.

You lick up a stray drop of his piss, dotting kisses back up his shaft until you return to the head. The mistletoe you brought in is crumpled under your knee as you wiggle around and adjust your stance, popping your ass out a bit more. It’s annoying to have to maneuver under the covers to suck him off properly, but you’re stubborn as hell and insistent on Spencer being the one to eventually peel back the covers.

You curl your tongue around the underside of his tip, and you hear a muffled groan above you. Merry Christmas, indeed.

A smug smile unfurls across your face, you close your lips around his head briefly in brief slurps, an imitation of a wet kiss. Your toes curl when his taste washes over you, another wave of barely-there soap as well as spine tingling musk, his middle of the night bathroom trip has left a few linger traces of piss too. And well, like a kitten with a bowl full of milk, you lap up that shit. Spencer doesn’t have this unrealistic, perfectly clean dick that some people would expect, he has pubes and a perfect natural scent and sometime his cum’s too tangy. If he insists on you never having to shave or be afraid to pee in his mouth, then it’s only right that you give him the same talk.

You flatten your tongue and drag you face up and down his cock, something that’s not meant to please him directly, you just want to degrade yourself on occasion. For Spencer you’d do things that would make God spontaneously combust, and Spencer’s mind would be blown in all kinds of ways.

You let the drop of precum that peeks out trickle down, stroking your boyfriend’s length, spreading it and slicking him up just enough. You dig your twinging knees into the mattress and tap his cock against your tongue. One, two, three. When you get more sleepy sounds from overhead you start to slide your mouth down on his cock, nestling it back in it’s home away from home.

You sit there for a moment, letting the atmosphere sink in. You’re convinced you can hear the snow falling outside, and the faint white glow of your living room christmas tree lights can still be felt even from under the sheets. You swallow around the length in your mouth, emitting a hum that’s closer to a strong whisper.

You try to say you love him, but you honestly forget your mouth is full of cock, so it comes out thick and muffled. You curl your right hand around the base and caress the skin there, an “I love you.” for his cock too. You slide that hand down to play with his balls and you lift your head up, the sheet scratches your scalp as it moves with you.

You give him a few pumps, suckling on the tip. Spencer’s right leg kicks out, twitching. Hearts bleed in your eyes as you swallow him back down, knowing you must look so pretty with your lips split around his hard dick. Tears bud at your waterline, you’ve trained yourself out of the brunt of your gag reflex, but you think you’ll always have a little tickle in the back of your throat and several tears that threaten to spill over.

You do wish Spencer were awake to chuckle softly and brush each one away his thumb, anchoring you to him.

“Why are you crying? You’re okay, you’ve taken it before, you’re taking it so well now. Shh, there we go.”

Your eyes flutter shut, and you press your nails into his thighs, as far as you’re concerned sucking your boyfriend off into oblivion is the only thing you were put on this earth to do.

Spencer moans, a sleepy and guttural sound as he stretches, that brief tension you get in your body before you melt into goo. Your heart rate picks up but you keep up what you’re doing, humming and keeping your teeth away from his shaft as you bob your head up and down.

Your mind runs in so many different directions, but it’s so quiet now. When he’s awake Spencer adores when he can see you softly drift off like this into a certain headspace, hazy and surrounded by his body. You adore taking a plunge into the deep end, proving that you love him by putting your heart on a spike.

You cradle his balls in your palm, rolling them around as you let his cock flop out your mouth with a wet pop. You grasp his shaft in your other hand to steady it and tongue his slit, your clit pulses whenever another spurt of pre hits your tastebuds.

You moan and kiss the base of his cock, swiping your tongue out for little licks.

The sheets rustle around you, brushing against your skin until they’re not touching you at all, because they’re being lifted. A flood of warm lighting illuminates your cock sucking.

You don’t have the proper awareness to be nervous or afraid of his reaction, you mewl mischievously in greeting and drag your tongue up the couple of faint veins along the sides of his cock.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” Spencer rasps, settling a hand on top of your head, never dissuading, only handling.

Your pussy clenches around nothing as you rock your hip backwards, drinking up every drop he had in his balls, but the emptiness gets you going too. Forcing yourself to wait, holding out, starving yourself of cock. It’s almost religious, putting yourself through suffering with the expectation of being rewarded.

You have to look in his eyes so you can cum, and there’s something about the way the corners of them crinkle as you cream your panties that spawns nursery design ideas.

The rock that sits on your ring finger by lunch sparkles in the light of your phone camera, nestled in Spencer’s pubes, hand curled around his dripping cock, mid stroke.

The gift that keeps on giving.

[kingprinceleo]

How are your sonic’s spending this Christmas? Your Shadow’s ?

uwahhhh sorry im late on this, things got busy !

1000YB shadow is sad and alone and a loser and probably hanging out with an old picture of sonic. probably being an extra strong workaholic ( sonic is big chilling in the afterlife) silly holiday piece Cat made with peepaw HERE

Happy auau- the gang is probably hanging out together ! doing festive little stuff and watching movies n playing games ,, sonic being the king probably dressing up as santa, they tried to get shadow to dress up but he chaos evaporated the costume before they could finish talking. but he is wearing smth wintery but not costumey (ough these are 2 years old please pardon them they never got finished vvv) if its cold enough shadow will also have his winter fur fdhghjg

Fire n water au- Sonic would be spending christmas at the castle with his family but, during the main plot, hes probably learning about the meaning of friends and family over big extravagant castle parties. Tails probably tries his best to make or find something for sonic, sonic may be a bit silly and spend a lot of their small amount of money on something cool for tails, and have consequences after. Blaze is being very normal about spending her first christmas alone with recently deceased parents and her missing brother ! Shadow is big chilling on the ocean floor. might eat a whale later if hes feeling festive

Desert vampires- i dont think they have christmas </3

Vampire au- i have a bunch for this ough. ...

Sonics festive but not as festive as amy is ! he has to help her decorate the house from top to bottom every season, and she'll likely move the house into ice cap zone to maximize the vibes

otherwise i think sonic just hangs out, admiring the island, running around, seeing lights n stuff, leaving little mysterious gifts around for his friends

Shadow doesnt do much ! hell stand in the snow and stare at the horizon, rouge will drag him christmas shopping (for herself HDJHFG) , probably drag him to a couple christmas parties he doesnt want to be at . and they probably steal from Geralds supply bays for funsies

i think when theyre older things are mostly the same ! sonic will usually split off to go hang out with his friends (now including rouge and knuckles) and he may be away to go down to the mainland to visit others amy inflicted him with the itch to decorate though, its deeply wrong to him to see shadows apartment look all lifeless and sad, shadow will sometimes just Wake Up to the house being almost fully decorated (shadow doesnt even know where he was hiding all this shit before)

i think sonics been able to get shadow to stay for a christmas party a couple times ! but never for long or without him finding some kind of corner to lurk in away from everybody,,, i have a tiny fic wip about one of them ough . its too rough to post any part of it </33

i dont think they really have any kind of christmas traditions they do, every year could be something different. And for gift giving, i think sonic does the same with leaving gifts around the house to find, surprises for shadow. shadows very direct though, always asking upfront whether sonic wants certain things or not uwah i think theyre silly,,, hope . htis is an adequate enough response LOL

[roosterforme]

It's Okay, Daddy's Here | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Even after your honeymoon is over, you find yourself needing your husband all the time. One Saturday, when Bradley is out with the guys, you have an itch you just can't scratch by yourself. When he comes home and finds you a desperate, horny mess, he assures that "It's okay, Daddy's here." 

Warnings: Smut and fluff

Length: 2200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series! (But it can be read on its own) Check my masterlist in my profile for the reading order!

You couldn't understand what had happened to you since you stopped taking your birth control pills, but you'd been insatiable for the last month and a half. The ten day honeymoon you and Bradley had spent in Hawaii had been pure perfection. And now you'd been enjoying your husband as frequently as you could get your hands on him since returning home.

"What do you mean you're going golfing tomorrow morning?" you asked Bradley as you got undressed for bed on Friday night. You paused, naked with his tee shirt in your hands, and gaped at him. "Roo. That'll be hours. And then the guys will want to go out for drinks," you whined. "You won't be here to fuck me."

He groaned and patted his lap before he reached for you. "Tee time at the country club is Javy's Christmas present to all of us, so I agreed to go." You tossed the shirt aside and climbed up onto the bed to straddle his thighs. "But I can cancel, Baby Girl," he grunted, palming your tits as you leaned in closer to kiss him.

"No," you moaned against his mouth. "I don't want Javy to be mad at me. But you better do me so good right now, Roo. Seriously."

"Don't I always?" he growled, flipping you onto your back and running his fingers down along your belly and over your tattoo. "Don't I always take care of you?" 

"I have the best husband," you whispered as his lips connected with your neck. Then his fingers met your clit, and he eased his body weight down on top of you. And it was heavenly. And he fucked you hard into the bed until you came, screeching his name. And then you slept all night long, curled up on his warm chest in a state of satiated bliss. 

But as soon as you woke up to a cold, empty bed late Saturday morning, you flopped onto your back and tried to coax yourself back to sleep once more. But you couldn't. The need was almost immediate as you sat up. The bedding smelled like Bradley, and you knew you needed to go into the other room. 

After you grabbed your glasses and pulled on his soft UVA shirt, you went to make some coffee. But as it brewed, your mind wandered to how good he looked in his white golf pants and polos. You hoped he was wearing that deep blue floral print shirt that hugged his biceps. 

"Good Lord," you gasped, fixing your coffee the way you liked it and walking out onto the back patio with Tramp. But even the chilly December San Diego air couldn't cool you down. Bradley was probably getting all sweaty right now, gripping his nine iron and wearing those soft gloves. 

"Jesus," you whined, pacing around and sipping your hot coffee. "Just chill. You made it through work all week without him." But that wasn't exactly true. On Tuesday, you'd fucked him on your lunch break in the backseat of the Bronco in the parking garage. And on Thursday afternoon, he'd come into your office reeking like jet fuel and fucked you up against your file cabinet.

Tramp looked up at you when you let out a noise close to a whimper. You finished your coffee and went back inside to start packing for the Christmas holidays, but as soon as you opened your underwear drawer, you caught sight of all of your wedding lingerie, and you had to leave the room again. 

A shower. That would help. But you tried hot water and then cold water, and you just ended up with your back pressed against the tile wall, stroking our fingers over your clit. You must be ovulating. That would explain a lot right now. But as you tried to get yourself off, you kept coming up short. 

"No," you whined, dipping your fingers into your own slick before bringing them back up to your clit. When you managed to get the tiniest bit of relief, you finished up in the shower and went to get dressed. 

But you ended up pulling out your vibrators only to glare at them, because they did not look as appealing as Bradley did. "Fuck," you grumbled, tossing them back where they belonged and kicking your drawer closed. 

How much longer could golf possibly take? You'd be fine until you could get the real thing. You could wait.

-----------------------------

Bradley rushed through the eighteenth hole, hoping to get back home to you faster, but the guys weren't having it. 

"Let's hit up the bar," Hangman drawled. "Drinks are on me."

Bradley opened his mouth to protest, but Jake cut him off and said, "And don't even try to use your wife as an excuse, Bradshaw. You and Angel can go a few hours without your hands all over each other. The honeymoon is over."

But it wasn't. It really wasn't. Bradley wanted his hands and mouth on you at the moment so badly, he hoped the honeymoon would never end. 

"Fine," he grumbled. "One drink." But one turned into two, and the jukebox at the Hard Deck was playing Christmas music, and Penny got him to dance with her before he was able to sneak out. He had been gone most of the day.

As he walked back to the Bronco late in the afternoon sunlight, he texted you and let you know he was finally on his way home. Your response was almost instantaneous. 

Baby Girl Bradshaw: Hurry

"Damn," he muttered, starting up the engine and rushing home to get to you. He thought maybe you'd be waiting for him in bed, wearing that little red lingerie set he liked so much, but what he discovered was even better. 

"Holy shit," he muttered as soon as he walked inside the front door. His golf bag clattered to the floor as you turned your head to look over your shoulder at him.

"Roo," you moaned, and it was the neediest, most beautiful thing he had ever heard in his life. And before he knew it, he was palming himself through his white golf pants at the sight of you naked, straddling the arm of the living room couch. Your back was to him as you rubbed your bare pussy up and down the arm, back arched and whining softly. 

He stumbled closer to you, his eyes glued to your ass as you moved in the most appealing way. You were leaving glistening streaks of your slick along the upholstery, and it was so fucking hot. 

"What's going on, Baby Girl?" he managed to ask as you looked back at him again.

"I can't help it," you gasped, your voice bordering on pitiful as you sucked in a deep breath. "I'm so fucking horny, Bradley. I've tried masturbating all day, but nothing feels as good as you do." 

"Oh, Sweetheart," he rasped, unzipping his pants and getting himself ready. "You should have called me."

"Please! I need you. Make it go away."

You were almost in tears now as Bradley put his hands on your hips, helping you rock your soaking wet pussy against the couch. "Shh. Daddy's home now. It's okay, Daddy's here." He stood behind you and kissed your bare shoulder, letting his fingers skim up your belly to stroke the undersides of your breasts. 

"Oh! Your fingers feel so good," you groaned, planting your hands on the back of the couch and rocking your hips a little faster.

"How did you get like this, Baby Girl?" he whispered next to your ear, pressing the front of his body to your back as you rocked your pussy along, trying to find some satisfaction. "You're like a dog in heat," he groaned, squeezing your nipples. 

"I know," you keened, head tossed back to give him access to your neck. "I'm ovulating."

"Oh, hell," he grunted. That was music to Bradley's ears as you bumped his hard cock with your ass every time you rolled your hips. "You need me to fuck you?" he asked softly, licking a stripe up your neck. "You need my cum?"

"Please, Daddy," you begged softly, but he could hear the desperation there. "Fuck me."

Bradley eased away from you and lifted you up a bit by your hips as you whined. "Aww, Sweetheart," he said, stroking his fingers along your ass down to your soaking wet pussy while he admired the wet spot on the couch. "You need me."

You looked back at him and nodded as he palmed your ass up in the air. "I need you, Daddy," you said, your voice breaking with tears in your eyes.

Bradley stroked your soft skin and asked, "Do you know how bad I want you knocked up?"

You nodded again, practically on the verge of tears. "I know it."

Bradley set you down gently on the arm once more, tipping you forward slightly so your clit was rubbing against the wet spot you made. Then he grabbed his cock as you wiggled your ass at him, just begging to have him fill you up. 

"I got you," he promised, rubbing himself through your wetness. "I'll take care of everything."

With one steady thrust, he filled you and bottomed out. A sound of relief escaped you as you moaned, "Daddy." Bradley pulled you snug to him by your hips, and with each fluid thrust, he helped you rock your clit against the couch. 

Bradley kept you going at a steady pace, fucking you nice and slow as he guided you along, praising you for being the perfect wife. "You always look so good for me. With your pretty pussy and that ass on display. You know how much I like coming home to find you ready for me?"

"Tell me," you whispered, starting to clench around him. 

He kissed along your neck as you jerked yourself along a little faster. "I love it when you're waiting for me to fill you up. I love how needy you are."

Bradley knew you were close now, so he let you ride the arm of the couch and bump back along his length while he held himself still for you. And then you were cumming, shaking against his body, reaching back for his hands as you clenched around his cock and sobbed softly. 

"You feel better?" he asked, still fucking you slow and steady. You were like a feral animal that only he was able to tame. 

"So much better," you whispered, turning and licking his bicep. "You're all sweaty, Roo. You smell so good."

"Damn it," Bradley grunted. Now he was starting to feel slightly unhinged over you. His wife needed him so badly around the clock right now. He expected that your body would start to adjust to being off birth control, and this extreme need for him would start to ease up. But for now, he didn't mind one bit. And he wanted to keep you filled up with his cum until it took.  

He slammed into you a little harder as you gazed lovingly at him over your shoulder. "You can do it, Daddy." He reached for your chin, grabbing you and kissing you a little rough. 

"Oh, fuck." Then he was filling you before he collapsed against your back. Bradley ran his hands along your pristine skin, paying extra attention to your tits as he caught his breath. "I can't believe I found you riding the couch like this."

"Nothing would even take the edge off, Bradley. Just you."

He squeezed your tits and ran his nose behind your ear. "I love you. Next time, you call me. I drop everything for you whenever I can. You understand me?"

"Yes." Your voice was soft and calm now, and he could tell you were feeling much better. 

"That's my girl." When he withdrew from your pussy, and his cum leaked out onto the arm of the couch, Bradley whispered, "Don't move."

He dug his phone out of his pocket and took some photos of you turning to look at him with a sweet, fucked out expression on your face and a messy pussy. He knew those images would keep him warm when he was deployed. Then he helped you stand right in front of him, and both of you admired the soiled arm of the couch together.

"Beautiful," Bradley murmured next to your ear, stroking his fingers along your belly and wishing. 

He watched you run your finger through the mess before licking it and turning to kiss him. You traced his lips with your tongue and he tasted himself before you said, "I'll clean up the couch."

"No, you're going to go get in bed like a good girl. And after I clean up out here, I'll be ready to take the edge off for you again. Okay?"

You threw your arms around his neck and hugged him, and then he watched your ass as you headed to bed to wait for him to take care of you again.

--------------------------

Roo always takes care of his wife! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

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[alatushours]

☆ HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS, featuring xiao — he knew he would always have a home to come back to, as long as he was with you.

contents. fem reader, you and xiao are married <3 written from xiao’s pov, fluff + teensy bit angst tw. mentions of war, implied reincarnation of the reader, xiao having self deprecating thoughts but it's a happy ending ! ! ♡ word count. 1.2k.

notes. merry christmas, guys! here’s a little special something i wrote up for the occasion! i hope it reminds you all that it doesn’t matter where you spend your holidays, but rather who you spend it with is much more special <3

I MISS YOU.

the words play over and over in xiao’s mind as he successfully defeated another monster, planting his spear into the snow-frosted ground with a sigh. 

he hadn’t seen you in months. he had read the letters that you sent him every week; your rambles about your day and the hearts you drew all over the paper always brought a smile to his face, but it was never the same as being with you. 

now xiao could finally go back to you, but he didn't quite feel relieved. perhaps it was his karmic debt weighing down on him, but his mind was clouded with worry. 

if only the war had ended sooner, then he would’ve been able to go back and spend your birthday with you. he had mailed a card with a preserved qingxin flower crown as a gift, but he knew it wasn't enough.  

after all, he had spent every other one of your birthdays with you. through all the lives that you’ve spent together, he had never, ever missed your birthday. 

until this one. 

it had hurt xiao so much not be able to be there on your special day, and for a while he had doubted in his ability as your lover. how could he ever make you happy, if he wasn't even home to celebrate your birthday with you? 

xiao shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. no, that’s not true. it’s my duty to protect liyue when it’s in danger. she knows that. 

still, he wanted to make up for not being there with you. 

you had told him once about a mortal holiday that was celebrated not just in liyue, but in the entirety of teyvat. christmas, he believed it was called. it was a celebration about giving gifts and spending time with family; something that he had not done in a long while, but hoped to do with you this time. 

he didn’t know exactly when this christmas was celebrated, he knew that it was during winter; and the snow currently falling upon the liyue plains certainly meant that winter was here. perhaps… i hope it’s not too late.

xiao looked around, spotting the crystalflies that inhabited the area. an idea popped into his head. it might not be enough, but it’s something. 

he got to work, collecting the crystals as well as some flowers and violetgrass stems that he’d found on the riverbank, blooming despite the cold.

he thought back to a more peaceful time, when you had taught him how to make flower crowns. you had laughed when he’d somehow managed to get a bunch of leaves stuck in his hair, and every time you pulled one out you’d give him a kiss. 

xiao smiled at the memory. being away for so long truly made him miss spending time with you, his beloved. i just hope that she’ll still accept me. 

before long, he had produced a circlet of crystals and flowers. i hope she likes it, he thought, standing up from where he sat in the snow. he looked up at the sky, the sun still high up. i should be able to make it back home before sunset. 

then he looked down at the flower crown in his hands. where do i put this…? 

he didn’t want to hold it, for fear that his blood-stained, war-heavy hands would ruin the precious gift. it wasn’t like he had a bag or any pockets to store it in, either. with a sigh, he had no choice but to place the circlet on his head.

y/n would laugh at me if she saw me wearing this willingly. 

xiao made his way through the liyuan terrain, stopping occasionally to slay some monsters. as he walked, his mind started to go astray again. what if she doesn’t like my gift? what if she’s angry at me for not visiting her? what if… she doesn’t want to put up with me and my struggles anymore? 

the sight of a familiar village up ahead made xiao snap out of his thoughts. don’t think about those things. i’m almost home, and y/n wouldn’t want me to come back full of negativity. 

the sun was slowly starting to dip into the horizon. he swallowed, burying the doubts as deep as he could into the back of his mind. breathe. 

the sound of children’s laughter filled his ears as he climbed the stairs towards the entrance of the village. an elderly woman sat on a bench near the gate, watching two young girls play around in the snow. 

“excuse me, ma’am,” xiao started, lightly tapping the woman on her shoulder. “could you please tell me today’s date?” 

the woman turned around, a warm smile on her face. “hello there, young man. you must be returning from the war, hm? well then, you’re just in time for the holiday celebrations. today is december 25th, christmas day.” 

“i see…” it’s today? am i too late? “ahem. thank you, ma’am. if i may, would you happen to know if y/n l/n is at home today?” 

“why, she is. i saw her leaving the market just a few minutes ago. she told me she was waiting for for her husband to arrive tonight, so she bought some ingredients for a meal.” 

suddenly the woman smiled brighter. “well well, what a pleasant surprise. you must be the one she was waiting for, my dear. i suppose those flowers in your hair are for her?” 

xiao was confused for a moment, then realized that he still had the flower crown atop his head. he removed it quickly, blushing. “i-i… yes, they are. thank you for informing me, ma’am. i’ll be on my way now.” 

the lady patted him on the shoulder. “very well. good night, young man. happy holidays to you and your wife, now!” 

xiao nodded and turned, making his way up the hill towards your house. his calm demeanor was contrary to his racing thoughts. y/n was waiting for me? how is she still so patient with me, even after so long of being away?

the sight of your quaint, peaceful cottage brought him to a stop. it was beautifully decorated, sparkling lights all on the roof and around the bushes. did she do all this by herself? she should have told me, then i could have helped her… 

xiao approached the porch steps slowly, fidgeting with the flower crown in his hands. now that he was actually here, he had no idea what he was going to do. should he ring the doorbell? or should he just open the door? and what should he say when he sees you? 

he stopped at the front door, in which a handmade holiday wreath hung. he took a deep breath. calm down. it’s okay. 

heart racing, he knocked on the door. 

nothing happened. 

xiao’s shoulders slumped. is she not home? or… does she not want to see me anymore? 

he sighed. i knew it… 

but the sudden familiar cry of “welcome home, xiao!” as the door flew open and your arms around his waist was all it took for the doubts in his head to disappear. 

home is where the heart is, he thought. home is where you are.

“yes, my love. i’m home.”

end notes. guys i promise after january 8th i won’t write as many xiao fics LMAO i just wanted to post this because he makes me so happy every day <3 i apologize if this isn’t as christmasy as you thought, but i do hope that you enjoyed! this might be the last writing post before 2024 so happy new year to everyone ! ! :)

© alatushours 2023. please do not copy, modify, or translate my work in any way, nor upload to any other platforms. in the meantime, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and consider leaving a follow! it helps a lot ♡

[lilsocksiswriting]

Step Dad Daichi

Fandom: Haikyuu

Paring:  Sawmura Daichi X Fem! reader

Summary: Your stepdad has had it up to hear with this attitude of yours.

Warnings: NSFW, no beta, minors DNI

Tags: Spanking, fingers, brat taming, unprotected sex

A/N: just cleaning out my W.I.Ps. I have a bunch more and if you want to check out my Ko-Fi you can vote on which one I do next :)

Haikyuu collection master list || Koi-fi

Your mother had an impressive collection of sex toys stacked neatly in the back corner of the bedroom’s walk-in closet, but you couldn't care less. You were in search of a pair of cheery red Steve Maddon heels that her new husband, who you reluctantly call your stepfather, got her for Christmas. Your mother had not worn them once since she pulled them out of the box. You were not about to let them collect dust collect dust along with the other collections of expensive gifts from past husbands.

“What do you think you doing?”

Daichi should feel ashamed of himself, He really should. The things going through his head after catching you bent over in that short silk robe rummaging around in his and your mother’s closet are the kind of things he should be thinking about his stepdaughter.

You stand up and turn around to face him. Fuck, it is so hard to get these thoughts out of his head while you are giving him a bratty pout.

Daichi was not your father. He looked like a dad sure. He wore socks with his Birkenstocks, had a soft hairy belly even though he worked out, liked to grill, and somehow knew when you touched the thermostat, yadda yadda. But he was not your father, and you hate when he acts like it.

Daichi just came back from a run. He left the house with a muscle tee on by came back bare-chested. He had been going for a lot more runs lately trying to burn out all the restless energy that as building up from being cooped up at the house so much since your mother was spending more time at work. Something you had taken note of as well.

Your mother’s new work ethic was just as much of a routine as Daichi’s runs. He would come back, kick off his sneakers by the door, toss his tee shirt in the laundry, and then head upstairs for a shower. It was this routine that led him to catch you rummaging around in a place you did not need to be rummaging around in.

You give him one last look over before turning around. Just because he was your stepdad does not mean you cannot enjoy the view. Though whenever you do you are reminded that this man was closer to your age than your mother’s. That sometimes leads to you imagine what if you met him first before your mother could sink her claws into her newest trophy?

“I’m looking for those heels you gave Mom for Christmas, I have a Greek social tonight and Phi Kappa boys love a girl in red.”

“Did you ask your mother if you could borrow them first?”

You look into another box with a cute pair of heels that were not the ones you were looking for, “She hasn’t even worn them.”

Daichi clenched his jaw watching the way you move and wondering if you’re wearing anything underneath that robe. He tries to keep his voice steady as he tells you, “Look at me when I’m talking to you, y/n.”

You turn back around to face Daichi only to glare at him and mouth off,” Don’t talk to me like you my father, Daichi.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t even try with that,” you roll your eyes, “You're just my mom’s newest trophy husband. And by the looks of an expansive collection of toys she tries to hide that’s all you’re good at.”

You are making him hard and you are making it even harder for him to not do something to teach you some manners. You turn back around and continue your search.

Daichi’s big hands grab your waist and haul you over to the bed he shares with your mother. Everything moving in a blur. Your back bounces on the bed at the same time Daichi grabs under your knees and spreads your legs apart.

“Wait! I’m not-“

“I figured,” Daichi scoffs. He stares down at you unimpressed and annoyed. “ You wanna know why your mom keeps me around?”

Said mother was at your aunt's for the weekend. The thought resurfacing makes a knot form on your chest. Not again. The visit to Aunt Marissa’s was the start. You had hoped you could at least find a new boyfriend to spend nights with when the auguring began. “Because I’m sure the lackluster sex is the best part of the relationship and not the fact that she has a live-in nanny.”

Daichi does not have a retort to that. Partly because you are right. Your mom did like the sex, but she seemed to like it more that there was someone at home to make everything look tidy and you stayed out of trouble. Which was not that hard. For as much as a spoiled brat you were, you were just as much as an independent and successful woman. So instead of one, he rolls his hips forward.

Your eyes go wide when you feel his clothed erection against your bare pussy. You bite into your lower lips. You feel how big he is. Your fantasies did not of him justice.

“You’re on birth control, right?”

“Um- I”, God get a grip on yourself y/n. So what? Your stepdad has his big dick pressing into your pussy and suddenly you cannot even form a coherent sentence?

“I was going fuck some manners in you, but maybe I should put that pretty mouth to work doing something other than talking back to me.”

“No! I want to to fuck me,” you say then your mouth hangs open, face heating up. Did you really just let that slip? Did you really just say you wanted your stepdad to fuck you? Well, stepdad for not much longer.

God, can you not think about the inevitable for like five minutes and enjoy the way Daichi’s cock twitches against your folds?

Daichi continues to look unimpressed as he demeans you,” Such a demanding brat.”

“Then do something about it,” you challenge.

That was all Daichi needed to hear. His hands are only off of you for as long as it takes him to sit down not the edge of the bed. Then his hand is back on his hips manhandling you into a new position laid across his lap.

Daichi lays a hand across the small of your back. You can feel the warmth through the smooth material of your robe, but you barely pay attention to it. All your focus is on his other creeping up the back of your bare thigh.

“Really, you’re so shameless walking around with nothing under this skimpy ass robe,” Daichi comments squeezing one of your cheeks.

You moan, resting your cheek against the plush comforter of the king-size bed he and your mother share. Do you wonder for how much longer would then share this bed? You know exactly how much longer because you have seen this all play out before.

Again, not trying to think about the inevitable instead you think about the buldge pressing against your lower stomach. You wiggle your hips just to feel the outline more.

A sharp slap to your ass still your hips. You cry out of the stinging pain of needles Daichi’s hand leaves. There is definitely going to be a handprint there.

“Stop squirming, “Daichi orders.

Surprisingly, you obey. You do not even give him any backtalk. Daichi smiles thinking that maybe you are the kind of brat that is all bark and no bite. When it comes down to it, it would never take much to make you act like a good girl. Which is good because all Daichi wants to do right now is flip you over and pound into that sweet cunt.

You feel his finger dip between your folds. Moving back and forth collections you're slick between his fingers as he goes. Your hips are squirming in Daichi’s lap again, begging for more than just these teasing touches.

Daichi pulls his fingers away and delivers another harsh slap to your ass. He lets his hand stay pressed firmly into the burning skin. You bite the inside of your cheek but still whimper.

“ What did I just say?”

“But it fucking hurts when you-ah!” you jolt fromward when Daichi spanks you again.

“And no crying about it either.”

You relax across his lap only so he will go back to touching you.

Daichi smiles to himself when you relax. His finger slipped back inside you. You moan feeling the digits drag along your skin. It takes so much to stay still and let Daichi’s finger you. It takes you a moment to realize he is prepping you.

“Wow, such a gentleman,” The remark rolls off your tongue before too can think.

Daichi’s fingers are still inside you but your body does not tense up trying to preparation for another spanking.

“Am I going to have to spank the brat out of you?” he asks.

You quickly shake your head,” No, I just never had anyone take the time to prep me.”

“Well,” Daichi irrupts himself with a chuckle,” You’ve never had anyone as big as me.”

You think on that statement as Daichi goes back stuffing you with his fingers. Just the thought of stretching you on his fat cock has you squeezing around his fingers.

“Hurry up then,” you groan. You can be a very patient person, but right now you are growing very impatient. You realize how this impatience can be seen as your bratty temperament. So, you quickly add a meek and submissive, ”please.”

“You know,” you can hear the mocking smile in his voice,” You act out so much but as soon as I have you bent over my knee you're suddenly such a good girl. Ask me nicety to fuck you. but do you really think that I would forget all the attitude? All the back talk and insults?”

You cannot give Daichi any backtalk even if you wanted to. His fingers are going deep inside you, dragging themselves into spots inside your own fingers could never reach. The more you stay still for him the faster he moves his fingers. There is a wet ‘shlick, shlick, shlick’ from Daichi adding a third finger to get you nice and stretched out.

You grip the bed’s comforter and moan. It is so hard not to move. Not to wither around or roll hips back for more friction. Your refrain does not go unnoticed.

Dachis’s free hand rubs a soothing circle along your back. “That’s a good girl,” His low voice makes you want to melt.” Be nice and still for me while I get you ready. Do you think you ready for me baby?”

You nod,” Yes!”

“Can you ask nicely?”

You do not hesitate in your response, “ Please Daichi. Please I need it, so bad. Need you to hurry up and fuck me already…”

To emphasize his point Daichi delivers another sharp slap to your ass. You whimper, even sniffle because fuck is it starting to really hurt.

“Could do a little better but you still learning. Now keep being a good girl for me and get on your back.”

You do not have to be told that twice. You eagerly crawl off Daichi’s lap and roll over onto your back.

Daichi feels his cock ache with a need to bury it inside you. He looks down at you. Your eyes are glassy with unshed tears of pain, pupils dilated with want, and legs loosely wrapped around his waist. The bottom of your robe is bunched up around your hips and fell off one of your shoulders. It was going to have to go. Daichi wanted to see all of you as he fucked the brat out of you.

He runs his hands over the smooth fabric of your robe. Groping at the supple flesh just underneath. The sound you make is somewhere between a moan and a wine. He is almost tempted to get on to you for being impatient, but he is getting impatient too. All it takes is a little pull the knot that was holding your robe comes undone.

Pushing aside your robe Daichi groans. You look so fucking irresistible. In a rush, Daichi’s pushed down his running shorts letting his cock spring free. Your breath catch in your throat He was big but words did not give the sight of his heavy dick justice.

Why did your mom get to have Daichi all to herself but not even appreciate what she has? Daichi was by far the best husband yet and your mom was going to toss him to the side because what? She was bored. You had already spied her swiping right on her phone. Why could she ever just be happy?

“Daichi please, please fuck me. “

“Aww look at that,” he coos.

Taking the base of his erection in one hand and keeping your thigh spread with the other Daichi slaps mushroom head against your puffy clit. Your body jolts in the fleeting shocks of pleasure.

“Why don’t you ask a little nicer hmm? Be a good girl and beg for me. “

“Please Daichi, please please, please. Just fuck me already Need your cock so bad, please give it to me. I need to feel you inside me so bad.”

“See,” he grunts slipping the head down your slick folds, “You can be such a good girl when you want to be.”

A high wine dies in your thigh and Daichi pushes into you. There is a past sting of the stretch it takes to take all him all. Your eyes try to focus on the man above you but it is so hard when you can feel the manes dick settle inside you, pushing against all the right spots.

“Such a good girl,” Daichi coos as you squeeze around him. “Taking me cock so well.”

Daichi’s pace starts slow. He relishes in the way that you walls hug so snuggle around him. A softer side of him wants to make sure you adjust to his size so that when he really starts going you will feel nothing but pleasure.

Whatever pain there was soon subsided and you gipped onto his formers and fidgeted your legs around his waist. You had never taken some as big as Daichi before. Pretty lips parted to take in one gulp of air after the other. It feels like his cock is knocking the breath out of you with each slow and deep thrust. You feel his heavy balls thumbs again your ass in a steady rhythm.

Being the greedy little thing, you are you soon want more. It just was not enough to be filled by your stepdad’s fat cock, you wanted to be ruined by it.

“Daichi please,” You bet.

Said the man, he actually laughed at you, “You dirty little thing. Not enough to be filled by my cock, is it?”

You nod your head in a yes,” Need more.”

“Then use the right words baby girl.”

You bite your tongue to stop you from whining. It was often you had to plea for something you wanted. Doesn’t he realize you having a hard time stringing together coherent sentence?

“Pl-pleas,” you take a shaky breath feeling yourself squeeze around Daichi’s girth,” Need more than just this. I need you t-to funk me. hard. Please I need you to ruin me Daichi.”

“Aww, but I am baby girl.”

“Nooo, like really fuck me.”

Daichi cocks his head but that smirk tells you he knows exactly what you want. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific baby.”

You blink back tears because now his thrusts are slowing down, becoming less deep.

“D-don’t stop!” you dig your fingernails into his forearms. You’re so quick to get all frantic that he may stop. “Please Daichi, need you to fuck me. I need you to make me cream all over your fat cock, please. I need to this bad. Please Daichi. I’ll be your good girl from now on. “

“See,” Daichi comments as he leans down with a soft smile that makes your stomach flip, “Look how you’re being such a good girl for me. Told ya I could fuck some manners into you.”

His lips are on yours in a sloppy mouth kiss. Your pussy flutters around his cock as you eagerly slip you tongue along his. Daichi groans into the kiss. Your arms Shakey slip up his arms and wrap around his neck. You cannot tell for certain if it’s the long kiss or his thrusts become rougher and faster are making you dizzy and delirious.

When you to pull away to breathe, there is a clear shiny sting of spit connecting your lips.

You look amazing. Cheeks a pretty red, eyes glasses over, and lip swollen. He was not going to last long like this and he could not care how that made him look. You just feel amazing and look amazing. Each time he rams his hips into yours your tit give a bounce.

“Fuck baby, you feel amazing, so wet and warm for me, sucking me in. Who knew you would turn out to be such haaaa-a slut for you stepdad’s cock. So eager to let him wreck this pretty cunt.”

The words that Daichi was saying may seem like he was degrading but you only hear them as prays that goes right to your core.

“ Fuck, Dachi-“

The words get caught in your throat from Daichi delivering a sharp slap to your sensitive ass cheek the moment the curse slips past your puffy lips. The high-pitched cry sound better than whatever you were about to beg.

“What did I tell you about cursing baby girl?”, Daichi asks in a stern voice that melts away into something more teasing, “Don’t tell me you’re already going so dumb on my dick you forget “

“M’Sorry, m’srrory. I-I’m good girl, Please Daichi I’m your good girl so please.” you tap off in a moan of desire. He is hitting all the right that makes your pussy.

“You are my good girl.” Daichi Parises as his thrusts become more erratic. “And you know what good girls do right?”

Your back arched off the bed and I not Dachis touch. Pressure building up in the pit of your stomach, but to explode, almost there.

“That’s right they cream all over their step daddy’s cock.”

Your mouth hangs open as your cunt squeezes around Daichi’s cock. You buck your hips against Daichi’s as he fucks you with one of the most all-consuming orgasms you’ve ever had. You can feel it through every nerve ending of your body. You wither and moan for Daichi as he pressed his hips snugly against yours, burring his cock deep inside you.

Your walls give one last squeeze around Daichi, milking for all the cum he is worth. Said man moans as he empties his heavy balls into the best pussy he has ever had. Even as a pleasurable rush of everything that transpired leaves your body feeling like jelly and your ass sore, you can’t seem to feel nullity about this.

You just let your stepdad fuck you in the bed you shared with your mom. the same bed that Daichi is gingerly to lay down in.

“Still feel like partying?”

You steeply shake your head no, “I feel like a hot shower and sleep.”

[racefortheironthrone]

Why People Are Wrong About the Puritans of the English Civil War and New England

Oh well, if you all insist, I suppose I can write something.

(oh good, my subtle scheme is working...)

Introduction:

So the Puritans of the English Civil War is something I studied in graduate school and found endlessly fascinating in its rich cultural complexity, but it's also a subject that is popularly wildly misunderstood because it's caught in the jaws of a pair of distorted propagandistic images.

On the one hand, because the Puritans settled colonial New England, since the late 19th century they've been wrapped up with this nationalist narrative of American exceptionalism (that provides a handy excuse for schoolteachers to avoid talking about colonial Virginia and the centrality of slavery to the origins of the United States). If you went to public school in the United States, you're familiar with the old story: the United States was founded by a people fleeing religious persecution and seeking their freedom, who founded a society based on social contracts and the idea that in the New World they were building a city on a hill blah blah America is an exceptional and perfect country that's meant to be an example to the world, and in more conservative areas the whole idea that America was founded as an explicitly Christian country and society. Then on the other hand, you have (and this is the kind of thing that you see a lot of on Tumblr) what I call the Matt Damon-in-Good-Will-Hunting, "I just read Zinn's People's History of the United States in U.S History 101 and I'm home for my first Thanksgiving since I left for colleg and I'm going to share My Opinions with Uncle Burt" approach. In this version, everything in the above nationalist narrative is revealed as a hideous lie: the Puritans are the source of everything wrong with American society, a bunch of evangelical fanatics who came to New England because they wanted to build a theocracy where they could oppress all other religions and they're the reason that abortion-banning, homophobic and transphobic evangelical Christians are running the country, they were all dour killjoys who were all hopelessly sexually repressed freaks who hated women, and the Salem Witch Trials were a thing, right?

And if anyone spares a thought to examine the role that Puritans played in the English Civil War, it basically short-hands to Oliver Cromwell is history's greatest monster, and didn't they ban Christmas?

Here's the thing, though: as I hope I've gotten across in my posts about Jan Hus, John Knox, and John Calvin, the era of the Reformation and the Wars of Religion that convulsed the Early Modern period were a time of very big personalities who were complicated and not very easy for modern audiences to understand, because of the somewhat oblique way that Early Modern people interpreted and really believed in the cultural politics of religious symbolism. So what I want to do with this post is to bust a few myths and tease out some of the complications behind the actual history of the Puritans.

Did the Puritans Experience Religious Persecution?

Yes, but that wasn't the reason they came to New England, or at the very least the two periods were divided by some decades. To start at the beginning, Puritans were pretty much just straightforward Calvinists who wanted the Church of England to be a Calvinist Church. This was a fairly mainstream position within the Anglican Church, but the "hotter sort of Protestant" who started to organize into active groups during the reigns of Elizabeth and James I were particularly sensitive to religious symbolism they (like the Hussites) felt smacked of Catholicism and especially the idea of a hierarchy where clergy were a better class of person than the laity.

So for example, Puritans really first start to emerge during the Vestments Controversy in the reign of Edward VI where Bishop Hooper got very mad that Anglican priests were wearing the cope and surplice, which he thought were Catholic ritual garments that sought to enhance priestly status and that went against the simplicity of the early Christian Church. Likewise, during the run-up to the English Civil War, the Puritans were extremely sensitive to the installation of altar rails which separated the congregation from the altar - they considered this to be once again a veneration of the clergy, but also a symbolic affirmation of the Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation.

At the same time, they were not the only religious faction within the Anglican Church - and this is where the religious persecution thing kicks in, although it should be noted that this was a fairly brief but very emotionally intense period. Archbishop William Laud was a leading High Church Episcopalian who led a faction in the Church that would become known as Laudians, and he was just as intense about his religious views as the Puritans were about his. A favorite of Charles I and a first advocate of absolutist monarchy, Laud was appointed Archbishop of Canturbury in 1630 and acted quickly to impose religious uniformity of Laudian beliefs and practices - ultimately culminating in the disastrous decision to try imposing Episcopalianism on Scotland that set off the Bishop's Wars. The Puritans were a special target of Laud's wrath: in addition to ordering the clergy to do various things offensive to Puritans that he used as a shibboleth to root out clergy with Puritan sympathies and fire them from their positions in the Church, he established official religious censors who went after Puritan writers like William Prynne for seditious libel and tortured them for their criticisms of his actions, cropping their ears and branding them with the letters SL on their faces. Bringing together the powers of Church and State, Laud used the Court of Star Chamber (a royal criminal court with no system of due process) to go after anyone who he viewed as having Puritan sympathies, imposing sentences of judicial torture along the way.

It was here that the Puritans began to make their first connections to the growing democratic movement in England that was forming in opposition to Charles I, when John Liliburne the founder of the Levellers was targeted by Laud for importing religious texts that criticized Laudianism - Laud had him repeatedly flogged for challenging the constitutionality of the Star Chamber court, and "freeborn John" became a martyr-hero to the Puritans.

When the Long Parliament met in 1640, Puritans were elected in huge numbers, motivated as they were by a combination of resistance to the absolutist monarchism of Charles I and the religious policies of Archbishop Laud - who Parliament was able to impeach and imprison in the Tower of the London in 1641. This relatively brief period of official persecution that powerfully shaped the Puritan mindset was nevertheless disconnected from the phenomena of migration to New England - which had started a decade before Laud became Archbishop of Canterbury and continued decades after his impeachment.

The Puritans Just Wanted to Oppress Everyone Else's Religion:

This is the very short-hand Howard Zinn-esque critique we often see of the Puritan project in the discourse, and while there is a grain of truth to it - in the Massachusetts Bay Colony, the Congregational Church was the official state religion, no other church could be established without permission from the Congregational Church, all residents were required to pay taxes to support the Congregational Church, and only Puritans could vote. Moreover, there were several infamous incidents where the Puritan establishment put Anne Hutchinson on trial and banished her, expelled Roger Williams, and hanged Quakers.

Here's the thing, though: during the Early Modern period, every single side of every single religious conflict wanted to establish religious uniformity and oppress the heretics: the Catholics did it to the Protestants where they could mobilize the power of the Holy Roman Emperor against the Protestant Princes, the Protestants did it right back to the Catholics when Gustavus Adolphus' armies rolled through town, the Lutherans and the Catholics did it to the Calvinists, and everybody did it to the Anabaptists.

That New England was founded as a Calvinist colony is pretty unremarkable, in the final analysis. (By the by, both Hutchinson and Williams were devout if schismatic Puritans who were firmly of the belief that the Anglican Church was a false church.) What's more interesting is how quickly the whole religious project broke down and evolved into something completely different.

Essentially, New England became a bunch of little religious communes that were all tax-funded, which is even more the case because the Congregationalist Church was a "gathered church" where the full members of the Church (who were the only people allowed to vote on matters involving the church, and were the only ones who were allowed to be given baptism and Communion, which had all kinds of knock-on effects on important social practices like marriages and burials) and were made up of people who had experienced a conversion where they can gained an assurance of salvation that they were definitely of the Elect. You became a full member by publicly sharing your story of conversion (which had a certain cultural schema of steps that were supposed to be followed) and having the other full members accept it as genuine.

This is a system that works really well to bind together a bunch of people living in a commune in the wilderness into a tight-knit community, but it broke down almost immediately in the next generation, leading to a crisis called the Half-Way Covenant.

The problem was that the second generation of Puritans - all men and women who had been baptized and raised in the Congrgeationalist Church - weren't becoming converted. Either they never had the religious awakening that their parents had had, or their narratives weren't accepted as genuine by the first generation of commune members. This meant that they couldn't hold church office or vote, and more crucially it meant that they couldn't receive the sacrament or have their own children baptized.

This seemed to suggest that, within a generation, the Congregationalist Church would essentially define itself into non-existence and between the 1640s and 1650s leading ministers recommended that each congregation (which was supposed to decide on policy questions on a local basis, remember) adopt a policy whereby the children of baptized but unconverted members could be baptized as long as they did a ceremony where they affirmed the church covenant. This proved hugely controversial and ministers and laypeople alike started publishing pamphlets, and voting in opposing directions, and un-electing ministers who decided in the wrong direction, and ultimately it kind of broke the authority of the Congregationalist Church and led to its eventual dis-establishment.

The Puritans are the Reason America is So Evangelical:

This is another area where there's a grain of truth, but ultimately the real history is way more complicated.

Almost immediately from the founding of the colony, the Puritans begin to undergo mutation from their European counterparts - to begin with, while English Puritans were Calvinists and thus believed in a Presbyterian form of church government (indeed, a faction of Puritans during the English Civil War would attempt to impose a Presbyterian Church on England.), New England Puritans almost immediately adopted a congregationalist system where each town's faithful would sign a local religious constitution, elect their own ministers, and decide on local governance issues at town meetings.

Essentially, New England became a bunch of little religious communes that were all tax-funded, which is even more the case because the Congregationalist Church was a "gathered church" where the full members of the Church (who were the only people allowed to vote on matters involving the church, and were the only ones who were allowed to be given baptism and Communion, which had all kinds of knock-on effects on important social practices like marriages and burials) and were made up of people who had experienced a conversion where they can gained an assurance of salvation that they were definitely of the Elect. You became a full member by publicly sharing your story of conversion (which had a certain cultural schema of steps that were supposed to be followed) and having the other full members accept it as genuine.

This is a system that works really well to bind together a bunch of people living in a commune in the wilderness into a tight-knit community, but it broke down almost immediately in the next generation, leading to a crisis called the Half-Way Covenant.

The problem was that the second generation of Puritans - all men and women who had been baptized and raised in the Congrgeationalist Church - weren't becoming converted. Either they never had the religious awakening that their parents had had, or their narratives weren't accepted as genuine by the first generation of commune members. This meant that they couldn't hold church office or vote, and more crucially it meant that they couldn't receive the sacrament or have their own children baptized.

This seemed to suggest that, within a generation, the Congregationalist Church would essentially define itself into non-existence and between the 1640s and 1650s leading ministers recommended that each congregation (which was supposed to decide on policy questions on a local basis, remember) adopt a policy whereby the children of baptized but unconverted members could be baptized as long as they did a ceremony where they affirmed the church covenant. This proved hugely controversial and ministers and laypeople alike started publishing pamphlets, and voting in opposing directions, and un-electing ministers who decided in the wrong direction, and accusing one another of being witches. (More on that in a bit.)

And then the Great Awakening - which to be fair, was a major evangelical effort by the Puritan Congregationalist Church, so it's not like there's no link between evangelical - which was supposed to promote Congregational piety ended up dividing the Church and pretty soon the Congregationalist Church is dis-established and it's safe to be a Quaker or even a Catholic on the streets of Boston.

But here's the thing - if we look at which denominations in the United States can draw a direct line from themselves to the Congregationalist Church of the Puritans, it's the modern Congregationalists who are entirely mainstream Protestants whose churches are pretty solidly liberal in their politics, the United Church of Christ which is extremely cultural liberal, and it's the Unitarian Universalists who are practically issued DSA memberships. (I say this with love as a fellow comrade.)

By contrast, modern evangelical Christianity (although there's a complicated distinction between evangelical and fundamentalist that I don't have time to get into) in the United States is made up of an entirely different set of denominations - here, we're talking Baptists, Pentacostalists, Methodists, non-denominational churches, and sometimes Presbyterians.

The Puritans Were Dour Killjoys Who Hated Sex:

This one owes a lot to Nathaniel Hawthorne's Scarlet Letter.

The reality is actually the opposite - for their time, the Puritans were a bunch of weird hippies. At a time when most major religious institutions tended to emphasize the sinful nature of sex and Catholicism in particular tended to emphasize the moral superiority of virginity, the Puritans stressed that sexual pleasure was a gift from God, that married couples had an obligation to not just have children but to get each other off, and both men and women could be taken to court and fined for failing to fulfill their maritial obligations.

The Puritans also didn't have much of a problem with pre-marital sex. As long as there was an absolute agreement that you were going to get married if and when someone ended up pregnant, Puritan elders were perfectly happy to let young people be young people. Indeed, despite the objection of Jonathan Edwards and others there was an (oddly similar to modern Scandinavian customs) old New England custom of "bundling," whereby a young couple would be put into bed together by their parents with a sack or bundle tied between them as a putative modesty shield, but where everyone involved knew that the young couple would remove the bundle as soon as the lights were turned out.

One of my favorite little social circumlocutions is that there was a custom of pretending that a child clearly born out of wedlock was actually just born prematurely to a bride who was clearly nine months along, leading to a rash of surprisingly large and healthy premature births being recorded in the diary of Puritan midwife Martha Ballard. Historians have even applied statistical modeling to show that about 30-40% of births in colonial America were pre-mature.

But what about non-sexual dourness? Well, here we have to understand that, while they were concerned about public morality, the Puritans were simultaneously very strict when it came to matters of religion and otherwise normal people who liked having fun. So if you go down the long list of things that Puritans banned that has landed them with a reputation as a bunch of killjoys, they usually hide some sort of religious motivation.

So for example, let's take the Puritan iconoclastic tendency to smash stained glass windows, whitewash church walls, and smash church organs during the English Civil War - all of these things have to do with a rejection of Catholicism, and in the case of church organs a belief that the only kind of music that should be allowed in church is the congregation singing psalms as an expression of social equality. At the same time, Puritans enjoyed art in a secular context and often had portraits of themselves made and paintings hung on their walls, and they owned musical instruments in their homes.

What about the wearing nothing but black clothing? See, in our time wearing nothing but black is considered rather staid (or Goth), but in the Early Modern period the dyes that were needed to produce pure black cloth were incredibly expensive - so wearing all black was a sign of status and wealth, hence why the Hapsburgs started emphasizing wearing all-black in the same period. However, your ordinary Puritan couldn't afford an all-black attire and would have worn quite colorful (but much cheaper) browns and blues and greens.

What about booze and gambling and sports and the theater and other sinful pursuits? Well, the Puritans were mostly ok with booze - every New England village had its tavern - but they did regulate how much they could serve, again because they were worried that drunkenness would lead to blasphemy. Likewise, the Puritans were mostly ok with gambling, and they didn't mind people playing sports - except that they went absolutely beserk about drinking, gambling, and sports if they happened on the Sabbath because the Puritans really cared about the Sabbath and Charles I had a habit of poking them about that issue. They were against the theater because of its association with prostitution and cross-dressing, though, I can't deny that. On the other hand, the Puritans were also morally opposed to bloodsports like bear-baiting, cock-fighting, and bare-knuckle boxing because of the violence it did to God's creatures, which I guess makes them some of the first animal rights activsts?

They Banned Christmas:

Again, this comes down to a religious thing, not a hatred of presents and trees - keep in mind that the whole presents-and-trees paradigm of Christmas didn't really exist until the 19th century and Dickens' Christmas Carol, so what we're really talking about here is a conflict over religious holidays - so what people were complaining about was not going to church an extra day in the year. I don't get it, personally.

See, the thing is that Puritans were known for being extremely close Bible readers, and one of the things that you discover almost immediately if you even cursorily read the New Testament is that Christ was clearly not born on December 25th. Which meant that the whole December 25th thing was a false religious holiday, which is why they banned it.

The Puritans Were Democrats:

One thing that I don't think Puritans get enough credit for is that, at a time when pretty much the whole of European society was some form of monarchist, the Puritans were some of the few people out there who really committed themselves to democratic principles.

As I've already said, this process starts when John Liliburne, an activist and pamphleteer who promoted the concept of universal human rights (what he called "freeborn rights"), took up the anti-Laudian cause and it continued through the mobilization of large numbers of Puritans to campaign for election to the Long Parliament.

There, not only did the Puritans vote to revenge themselves on their old enemy William Laud, but they also took part in a gradual process of Parliamentary radicalization, starting with the impeachment of Strafford as the architect of arbitrary rule, the passage of the Triennal Acts, the re-statement that non-Parliamentary taxation was illegal, the Grand Remonstrance, and the Militia Ordinance.

Then over the course of the war, Puritans served with distinction in the Parliamentary army, especially and disproportionately in the New Model Army where they beat the living hell out of the aristocratic armies of Charles I, while defying both the expectations and active interference of the House of Lords.

At this point, I should mention that during this period the Puritans divided into two main factions - Presbyterians, who developed a close political and religious alliance with the Scottish Covenanters who had secured the Presbyterian Church in Scotland during the Bishops' Wars and who were quite interested in extending an established Presbyterian Church; and Independents, who advocated local congregationalism (sound familiar) and opposed the concept of established churches.

Finally, we have the coming together of the Independents of the New Model Army and the Leveller movement - during the war, John Liliburne had served with bravery and distinction at Edgehill and Marston Moore, and personally capturing Tickhill Castle without firing a shot. His fellow Leveller Thomas Rainsborough proved a decisive cavalry commander at Naseby, Leicester, the Western Campaign, and Langport, a gifted siege commander at Bridgwater, Bristol, Berkeley Castle, Oxford, and Worcester. Thus, when it came time to hold the Putney Debates, the Independent/Leveller bloc had both credibility within the New Model Army and the only political program out there. Their proposal:

redistricting of Parliament on the basis of equal population; i.e one man, one vote.

the election of a Parliament every two years.

freedom of conscience.

equality under the law.

In the context of the 17th century, this was dangerously radical stuff and it prompted Cromwell and Fairfax into paroxyms of fear that the propertied were in danger of being swamped by democratic enthusiasm - leading to the imprisonment of Lilburne and the other Leveller leaders and ultimately the violent suppression of the Leveller rank-and-file.

As for Cromwell, well - even the Quakers produced Richard Nixon.

[maddie-grove]

I’ve been thinking about embroidery as catchall for “stifling useless upper-class feminine activity”* because of Catherine, Called Birdy. So I thought it was kind of funny when I got to the end of The Long Winter and Laura—who generally likes to romp and be outside, who seems bummed out that she’s not allowed to do all the farm work that a boy would do, who doesn’t want to wear a corset—gets a bunch of embroidery silks for late Christmas and is totally jazzed about it. Like obviously that is a totally unremarkable set of preferences for a person to have, and the gender politics of these books are complicated to say the least, but it’s such a Trope that I had to laugh a little.

*Not a bad trope, IMO, but you can tell when an author has put some thought into it and when they’re just cribbing from other authors.

[127luvr]

049 First Love / Late Spring

sungchan taps his fingers on the top of his steering wheel as he watches you lock your door. your back is to him, but he can see your disheveled hair. the way your clothes have permanent wrinkles which made it clear where they sat bunched up. he's missed seeing you--even with the uneven part in your hair--even with the five-o'clock-shadow that takes up the bottom of your face. he's just glad to see you. glad to see your attempt at a smile as you finally make your way to the passenger side of his car.

sungchan feels like home the moment you step into the car. his cologne fills the car--not in an overpowering manner--but you can smell it over the air fresheners he has hanging on the rear-view mirror. he is wearing the sweater you got him for christmas, the sight of it leaving you with butterflies in your stomach.

and it's hard to stop yourself from comparing him to jaemin--whose car no longer sits in the driveway.

sungchan was put together. even after working his full shift, he was able to freshen up before seeing you. to talk to you. there is not a hair on his head that's misplaced. no faint smell of cigarettes lingering on his fingertips nor on his lips. just a faint smell of coffee that comes from the apron he has folded up neatly in his back seat.

"hi." he brings his right hand up to caress your hair, his large hand flattening the hair that sticks straight up at the back of your head. you melt into his touch, closing your eyes. he pulls you in towards his body with just his hand, kissing the top of your head--ignoring the faint smell of cigarettes. "i brought you your favorite drink. just how you like it."

you push your head into his shoulder, hiding your face in his sweater. sungchan lowers his hand to your lower back, letting you press your body against his uncomfortably across the center console of the car.

"what did you want to talk about?" he makes out your mumbling with a little difficulty, the question dampening the atmosphere.

"about you. why have you been avoiding me?" you shake your head into his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut to try and stop them from tearing up. "hey-"

"i'm sorry, jinsu. i've just been feeling sick." technically it wasn't a lie. you did feel nauseated. your appetite was suppressed. all you wanted to do was sleep but they weren't symptoms of a common cold--or a fever. in your case, it was a case of mild depression. a sense that you had lost control of your life. "can i stay over at yours for a while? i miss you."

you raise your head away from his body, looking up at him with tired eyes and a red nose. you refrained from telling him everything that happened with jaemin. hoping to leave your problems behind at home even if it was just for a day. he strokes your hair again, bringing his lips to your forehead.

"of course."

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taglist: @dreamandback

[theteasnake]

Killer Cat Cafe

I'll probably do more than these, I just wrote this late at night and need a stopping point.

Danny Johnson

Definitely a black cat with green eyes and white markings on his face. He's also got stripes that can only be seen in certain lighting.

He spends a lot of his time sitting up high and watching the customers. If he's not doing that, he's sitting in front of the tv, meowing until someone puts a horror movie on.

He's an attention whore and doesn't care about what others want. Oh? You want to leave? No, you're not. He's sitting on your lap now. This your food? No, it's not. It's his now.

He's one of the more popular cats because of how vocal he is and how friendly he seems. Even when he acts out, it's seen as adorable and causes people to take their phones out to film.

Will pose and stop anything to pose when someone whips out their phone.

Constantly making biscuits, especially on his favorite fabrics. He will claw anything he doesn't like tho, including customer's clothes.

He bites. And he bites hard. It's how he shows love.

He's got a scar on his face and a bit of his ear missing. There's more scars on his body, but his fur hides it.

He's a short hair but somehow has the thickest hair imaginable and sheds so much.

He was found sitting outside a bunch of people's windows, watching them.

Michael Myers

A cream burmese. He looks like any normal cat, but there's something... off with his eyes.

Due to his skittish behavior and aggressive nature, he's not allowed to be around guests. He's kept in a room with Max and a tv that's playing cartoons.

Only lets a small group of people touch him, otherwise you're getting bit.

Someone wearing a white coat of any kind and he's gonna make sure you walk out with a chunk missing.

Just make sure the tv is playing his favorites and his bowl is filled with food and he'll maybe not attack anyone.

After store hours, he can found with Danny and Amanda, purring away and half sleeping while the other two are fighting by him.

He tends to hide his face in paper bags. It got to the point that a special one with holes for his eyes and ears were made. Otherwise he would be stuck bumping into walls and almost getting a concussion.

Needs to be groomed. He demands to be groomed. Otherwise he will throw a fit. He hates shedding everywhere and the feeling of loose hair on him.

Grooms himself whenever someone dared to touch him. He'll even glare at them as he cleans the spot he was touched.

His previous owners magical died and he ended up in a shelter before he was taken to the Cafe.

Max Thompson Jr.

Lykoi cat with black tuffs of fur and some scaring.

Can't be alone and will cry and wail until someone finds him.

Constantly shaking and looks like he's two seconds from crying.

You have to dress him up in sweaters to keep him warm. He doesn't mind it, he actually likes them and even have favorites. He also likes being dressed up in costumes.

He's kept away from guests since he's not a 'conventionally' cute cat. And the poor guy has already been through enough. He's only allowed out if there's a worker to keep close to him.

Don't take him near a tub. Ever. You have to clean him with a wash cloth and a buck by your side.

He likes his cartoons, especially the super hero ones.

He is given special treatment due to his good behavior and background. By both the workers and other cats.

Amanda and Evan will let Max cuddle up to them for warmth.

He likes Christmas. Scratch that, he loves Christmas! He gets to wear cute ugly sweaters and is gifted new toys and clothes. He very much enjoys the pampering and attention.

He is the sweetest cat in the cafe. As long as you show him respect, he'll let you do anything to him.

Loves to be pet while making biscuits, it's an important ingredient.

Dresses up as Superman each Halloween.

He's very small compared to the others due to malnourishment, but he's doing his best to gain some weight.

He was abused and abandoned by his previous owners due to his gene mutation causing his hair loss. He would've died if he wasn't taken to the cafe.

Anna

American bobtail. Her coat is mainly black and white with specks of brown and tan.

She has a pile of stuffed animals. Don't touch her bunny one tho, she's very protective over it.

She takes care of any kittens that pass through the cafe. Or at least she tries. For some reason the workers keep taking them away from her.

She's very popular among the female guests. Probably because she attempts to castrate any male guest that tries to get close to her.

Loves belly rubs. Like a lot. Give her belly rubs and treats and she loves you for life.

She often tries to bring dead animals into the cafe. Because of that, she's banned from the outdoors.

She's very playful. She'll give customers toys for them to throw for her. She has so much energy and needs to run it off some how.

She's very peculiar when it comes to food. Always making sure everyone else has enough, and waiting until everyone is finished before she eats her food.

She purrs loud. Very, very loud. And hard.

She likes children, always going to them first and watching them like a hawk. Making sure they're not hurt, that they eat, and that they're happy. She'll punish the parents if the kids ever look upset or unsatisfied.

She goes feral during winter and runs away, but returns when spring is around the corner. She's chipped so the workers aren't worried about it.

She was found in the forest with a bunny plush. It's assumed she was abandoned there until they found a cabin that was owned by a woman, who sadly passed away.

Amanda Young

Orange Scottish fold with yellow eyes.

She's very reserve, preferring to stay up high and away from people. Tho, it seems she has warmed up to a doctor and his photographer boyfriend. There's also a cop she absolutely hates.

She likes to wear stylish collars, especially anything red or pig-related.

Hisses very often and swipes at guests if they suddenly touch her.

Very skittish and shouldn't be left unsupervised, or else she will end up purposefully injuring herself.

Tends to let Anna just lay on top of her. She likes the warmth and pressure.

Blankets. She loves blankets. Especially laying underneath them. And she needs to cuddle with someone in order to sleep, or else she will stay up all night.

Constantly play fighting with Danny.

Anna gave her a pig plush from her pile.

She often stares out windows, like she's grieving.

Very protective over Max. Will cut a bitch if they're talking shit about him.

She was found in a warehouse, lying by a cancer patient that died from blood loss due to a slash in his throat.

Evan MacMillan

Norwegian forest cat. He's mainly tan and white with some brown.

He's just... tired. Constantly tired. He was the first cat taken in and is the mascot of the cafe. Which makes him quite popular, but he's tired and exhausted.

He likes being alone, only really liking one person to see him at a time. He has own little corner with a single table and chair for his single guest.

He's too tired to fight anyone and just opts to going into Michael's and Max's room whenever people aren't following his rules. He won't come out for the rest of the day.

Constantly grooms himself and ends up with hairballs, so others have to rush to the brush before he accidentally consumes too much fur. Cause he will cough up a hairball into a guest's food if he doesn't like them.

Holds grudges. If he decides to not like you suddenly, he won't ever like you for the rest of his life. Ever.

He gets dirty very easily, and he hates it. He will yowl and scream by the bathtub until he is bathed.

Danny keeps trying to make biscuits on him. He gave up trying to avoid Danny after the third time it happened. Eventually, he learned that he didn't mind and somewhat enjoys it. Danny is annoying, but he's interesting company.

Likes to chew on bones and loves bone broth. Especially chicken bone broth. He also likes beef stew. Any soup dish that has meat is his favorite, basically.

He's not very playful or active, he mainly just lazes around in his cat bed, taking naps or watching the birds fly around outside.

His previous owner has shown up a few times, and each time he has to kicked out and Evan is nowhere to be seen for the rest of the day. At some point, a worker finally found him under a cabinet. How did he end up there considering his size and how small the space is? No one knows. It was a hassle to pull him out tho.

He was taken from his previous owner due to his owner's mental stability starting to fall apart and he had to be taken into a nursing home. Evan couldn't go with him, so he was given to the cafe.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

bound for n.y.c - g. van fleet

a/n: hi everybody! i’m back with a cool 3.6k fic about the one, the only, greta van fleet! i am seeing them at msg next week and am so excited that i just wanted to write a quick fic. please note that there’s no set ship and that it’s sort of implied that reader is in love with all members of the band and all the band members are into reader and NOT EACHOTHER. except maybe sammy and danny. let me know if y’all want anymore of these types of fic, idk maybe it’ll flop. also this is kind of fast paced and i am very sorry for that warnings: kissing, physical touch, mentions of anxiety and stress, complicated love triangles, food mentions, reader has a stepdad and a good relationship with their mom, reader being from ny, i think reader is fully gender neutral with maybe a few feminine traits but no real descriptors. also reader has tattoos and mentions of a dog that is no longer with us! no use of y/n, one mention of drugs, a bunch of references to sex, and cursing :0 word count: 3.6k summary: as tour manager, it's your job to get the boys to new york city, your home town. just don't fall in love with them, or anything. now playing: runway blues – greta van fleet

Being tour manager for America’s favorite Led Zeplin cover band, or at least, that’s what your judgmental bitch of a landlord called them once, was surprisingly difficult.

You were constantly running around after the four of them, feeling often more like a nanny than a tour manager. Especially at first. You had started meeting with them a few weeks before their World Starcatcher tour had begun, where you wore these professional, stuffy outfits. They had been referred to you by their makeup artist, who you had known from when you were an assistant to the tour manager of Phoebe Bridgers’ 2022 reunion tour.

You had been working for a producer when you got the call. Truthfully, you missed touring. It was a great way to see different parts of the country and the world, and you thrived in the chaotic environment. And you had heard of Greta Van Fleet, mostly from your grandfather, who was a huge classic rock fan, and always exploring new music via his iPad.

But you started out rather cooperating with them, wearing these stuffy outfits—Mostly long button ups and pencil skirts, while the boys showed up in comfortable casual clothes, always joking about you having to loosen up a bit.

And one notoriously hot day in early July, you showed up in shorts and a muscle tee to meet with them to go over the final dates of the tour before you all gave your go ahead to the social media manager.

You didn’t do much talking about the tour that meeting, opting instead to answer questions about your tattoos, your taste in music, your life to this point. And in exchange, they gave you pieces of themselves.

“I’m from New York,” You had answered over some late afternoon drinks. “I haven’t been home since Christmas, So I’m excited to see my family when we’re there.”

Josh’s fingers traced your upper arm, over a tattoo of your long-gone dog. “Will we get to meet this little guy?” He asks.

You only chuckled, “No, this one died while I was in college. Best dog I ever had.” You said solemnly.

And that was it. One comment about your dog and the boys were hooked on you forever. And when the tour started, you only grew closer— Sharing with them parts of your childhood, Jake teaching you the very basics of guitar, Josh taking shots with you before shows, Danny bringing you coffee to cope with those shots the next morning, and Sam holding your hand when he’s anxious, or when you’re anxious—or both.

So, by the time you make it to the boys’ first show at the Garden, you’ve developed a routine.

The bus leaves by seven a.m. from the hotel in D.C. to get to New York by nine, nine-thirty-ish. You’re craving a sausage, egg, and cheese on a bagel from your favorite deli near where your mom lives, about an hour outside of the city.

So, you wake Jake up first, as he takes the longest to really wake up, and you’re sure you’ll have to shake him awake at least twice before he really gets up for the day. Then, you go to make sure Josh is up, and hear his shower going by the time you get to it. Good.

Then, you head to Sam, who is snoring away with Rosie. You almost don’t have the heart to wake him up. Almost. But Rosie senses your presence and stands up in bed, starting to lick his face. He groans, mumbling a soft, “I’m up, Rose, I know.” You feel good when you head over to Danny.

But thankfully, he’s already up. He’s in bed, writing in his notebook when you get there, sipping his coffee and all packed up for the road. His hair is tied up in a bun, and you’re entirely grateful that he’s so good at this whole thing.

Usually, you don’t need to wake each of them up, but every few shows, the five of you, as well as other crew members, indulge in the after party. And last night was your turn to be the D.R.O. Designated responsible one.

Eventually, you get all four of them downstairs and on the bus, no real difficulties. You all climb onto the bus and begin the drive to your home state. And you can hardly take the anticipation. Seeing your family again, visiting your favorite spots, and getting a homecooked meal was keeping you going. You had moved to California for school, before traveling on a few tours, and then settling for about a year in Nashville. But you ached for New York.

While your boys busied themselves with talk, games, and music, you stared out the window, biting your thumb and ignoring the reruns of Daredevil that played on your laptop in front of you. And apparently, you were bouncing your leg intensely, because the only thing that snapped you out of your thoughts was Rosie’s head on your thigh to relax you.

You scratched her head, sighing as you closed your computer, before glancing up to the boys, who had gone suspiciously quiet.

“What?” you asked, giving them a concerned look.

“You know we’ll make it to New York, right?” Sam asked, “You’ll be there soon.” He said, holding your hand, just like he always did when you were anxious.

“I know, I’m just—I miss home. And I love touring, and usually I’m never like this, but when I realized I’d be seeing my mom after months, I just... It made me start focusing a lot more on the fact that I miss it.”

You knew they’d get it. Michigan had been their home for years, and although they loved Nashville just like you did, you knew they left a part of themselves in Frankenmuth, just as you had in New York.

Danny tossed you a blanket, “Get some sleep, Sugar. You’ll need it.” he said softly. You nodded, too anxious and tired to argue any further than that. You cuddled up to Sam, Rosie finding her way in between your legs to further comfort you.

As you drifted off, you thought about your relationship with them. Things like Sam’s holding your hand and cuddling, Danny’s very often kisses to your forehead, Jake’s gentle hugs from behind, and Josh’s well—Josh’s everything, he’s a very affectionate young man—had been, for the most part, strictly platonic. You had thought about it. Kissing one of them, asking to break the professional lines of your relationship, however blurred those had become.

But it was more than that. Over the past few months of knowing them, it had developed from you getting them from place to place, into a softer, more tender relationship. The relationship you had formed with them was something you had been desperately lacking and needing. You had only realized that you missed it when you got it from them.

You were all real true soulmates.

You woke up to the sound of a loud series of honks and yelling from outside the bus. You peeked out of the window to see people screaming at each other, thousands of people making their way to work, and tall skyscrapers overhead.

“Jesus Christ, it smells like someone died!” Jake complained, as the rest of the boys agreed on the smell being horrid. It made you grin. You were home.

You stretched and pulled out your phone, checking the itinerary for the day that you had written out in your note’s app the night before. And you were right on schedule, since you accounted for traffic getting here. It was around noon, so you decided to head over to the hotel to get settled in before the show.

Except when you got there, the lady at the front desk informed you there were no rooms booked under the name you had given them. Which was insane, because you booked a room months ago knowing how expensive and unpredictable the city was.

So here you were, a show that night, with no hotel room, and a group of hungry twenty-something year olds. You were going to scream. And they could see it on you, your muscles tense, as you struggled to not start shaking.

Josh rested a hand on your arm, rubbing his thumb gently against it as he wrapped his other arm around your shoulders. “Deep breathes, Baby. You made that reservation; these guys are just a bunch of fucking fucks.” And it made you laugh, enough to relax you. You took another minute to think, before turning back to the rest of the guys.

“Okay, here’s the plan. We must be at the Garden for soundcheck and costumes, hair, and makeup by five thirty. We’ll go there now, drop off our bags and we can go grab pizza and garlic knots at this spot I know, good and are very cool with service dogs.” You said, unable to think of a scenario where you leave Rosie anywhere except with Sam. “While we’re there, I’ll make a call, since I think I know where we can stay if you guys don’t mind a bit of a drive after the show.” No one objected, they simply got back on the bus as instructed, and headed to enact that plan.

After dropping off your things and making it to the pizza place, you step outside for that call, telling Jake to just order you a soda. The phone rings. Once. Twice. And on the third call, your mom answers, excitedly saying your name.

“Where are you guys? Did you make it to the hotel okay?” she asks, and your face melts at the softness.

“Hey, Mom, we’re in the city, getting some lunch. Listen, the hotel messed up our reservation, and now we’re looking for a new place to stay... I know it’s last minute, but—” And before you can ask it, she cuts you off.

“Well, you five can stay here! We have the guest room, your room and your brother’s room.” She decides. “I’ll cook, do they like sausage and peppers?”

“Mom, you don’t have to, it’s gonna be late when we get in.”

“And you still need to eat. I’ll see you tonight, okay? I love you baby, break a leg tonight.” She advises, even though you aren’t the one preforming.

“Alright, I love you, mom.” You hang up and head back inside, settling into your seat next to Josh, just as the waitress comes back to take your order. “We’ll have a large cheese pizza with half mushrooms, please. And a dozen and a half garlic knots.” You say coolly, not giving the boys a chance at all. You love this restaurant. It’s best you order anyways.

They all stare at you for a few seconds before you smile. “You all get to meet my mom tonight.”

“Don’t you think we should have a couple of dates before we meet your mom?” Danny asks, and it makes you giggle.

“What do you think this is?” You tease.

Lunch goes really well, and after a bit of tourism and some drinks around the city, you make it to Madison Square Garden to get them ready for the show. For a brief few hours, you have a break. Usually, you spend it catching up on some work, having some quiet time, or anything of the sort. But this is their debut at the Madison Square Garden, in your hometown. You feel an obligation to watch the show.

Before the show begins, as Josh and Jake are getting their makeup done, you relax with Sam and Danny on a couch somewhere backstage. When Jake is done, he steals your phone off the table, and holds it up to take a photo of the three of you. Sam and Danny lean in and each kiss one of your cheeks, and it makes you roll your eyes for a second before you smile at the camera, letting them be all lovely dovey and affectionate, like a bunch of freaks. Your freaks.  

When the show starts, you watch from the sidelines, cheering for them and generally enjoying the show, because you just know how important this is for them. And you eat it right up, watching your boys perform at a dream venue for so many artists.

Before they start Highway Tune, Josh starts speaking to the crowd. “This is a very special show for us. Our debut at The Garden. The Garden, how about that?” He hums. “And we’re also playing in our tour manager’s hometown... So, we have some special surprises for you in their honor.” The crowd goes wild, and your face flushes, giggling at the idea of them performing a special show just for you.

The show goes by quicker than you would like it to, because you’re enjoying it too much. And you’re really understanding suddenly why so many people are down bad for them online. They look really fucking good. When they get off stage, you just want to cling onto them or make out with them or worse, and then they go back on for the encore and it leaves you longing, wanting for more.

What the fuck is happening to you?

You get caught up in this feeling to the point where the next hour or two—Waiting for the crowds to clear out, for them to get undressed, for the bus to get there—fly by, and before you know it, you’re in the bus again, heading to your moms. Josh lays his head on your lap, and Sam has found himself cuddled up against you. Danny is leaning against Jake across from you, and Jake is just staring at you. He has a familiar look in his eyes, and you just stare back.

When you make it to your home, while all the houses are dark and quiet, the kitchen and living room light is on when you make it to your home. The bus driver has family in the area, so he’ll stay with them for the night, and pick you up early on Thursday Morning, giving you all a break from the crazy travel days.

Your mom is in the kitchen when you come in, having late night coffee and tea with your stepdad. She hears you come in and gets excited, greeting you all at the door. She pulls you in for a hug and a kiss, holding onto you for a little while, just excited to see you. When she pulls away, she grins at the boys.

“And who are these lovely young men?” she asks, teasingly.

In a deadpan voice, you respond, “The cokehead rockstars I’ve been traveling with. I’m their groupie.” You say, and she scoffs at your sarcasm.

Josh smiles, “That’s us, Baby!” He opens his arms to your mom, and she gladly hugs him as a greeting, despite this being their first meeting. And there it is again, that aching feeling you had, when you watched them perform tonight, the same feeling that followed you home. After hugs and introductions, you’re all at the dinner table, gobbling down the dinner your mom made for you. You can almost cry, enjoying the taste of her cooking after months without it.

And the boys enjoy it too, loving a filling meal after a busy show. When you have all finished eating, you make your way up to your respective rooms. You stick Danny and Sam in the guest room, Jake sleeps in your brother’s room, and Josh in your bed, with you. You could almost die.

You take out your earrings and then you lay down. Your arms are exposed, showing off the tattoos you have once more. Josh sleeps in his boxers and a tee shirt, even though your room is chilly. He lays next to you and begins tracing his fingers over your tattoos.

“What’s this one?” he asks, tracing over a ghost that’s on your forearm, right above your elbow.

“Got it during the final show of Phoebe’s tour. She has a similar one somewhere, and I guess it was my way of commemorating the tour.” You explain. He hums, and moves to a different one, asking you the origin of that one. This goes on for a while, before you kiss his palm and tell him to get some sleep.

He falls asleep quickly, and you just stare at him through the darkness. ‘Are you dreaming of me?’ You want to ask, a hand reaching out to run your hands through those vicious curls. Before you know what, you’re doing, you cuddle up to him, laying your head on his chest. When you feel his arms wrapped around you, you begin to drift off, confident that you did not overstep any boundaries.

When the morning strikes, you get up and realize Josh is still asleep. You wiggle out of his arms and leave the room. You must be lost in thought because you bump flat into someone without even noticing. It’s Danny. His hair is wrapped up in a towel, and he only wears a towel around his waist.  

He reminds you of that one video of Slash from the golden age of Guns N Roses, and it stirs something deep inside of you.

But he just chuckles and kisses your forehead gently. “Hey, sweets.” he says softly, in that raspy morning voice.

“Good morning.” You respond. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything; you don’t have to apologize.” He advises. “See you downstairs.” You take a cold shower just to get out of your own head before heading downstairs, where you meet your mom, Jake, Sam, and Danny laughing and eating French toast, as your stepdad cooks in the kitchen.

You love his French toast, but a pang of disappointment hits you as you think about your sausage, egg and cheese on a bagel, with hashbrowns. You quickly eat to dissipate any of those needs. But you’ve been talking about that sandwich for months, so it haunts you.

The rest of the day, you spend pretty much doing nothing. You nap, lounge, and catch up with your mom. It’s the perfect day. Just you, your mom, and your boys. And of course, Rosie. Your mom makes pulled pork sliders for lunch, and you order Chinese food for dinner. Real, good Long Island Chinese food.

And really, the day is over before you really want It to be. Sam asks you to join him on walking Rosie. You happily oblige, planning on taking him to get ice cream along the way. He has his arm wrapped around your shoulders, and you keep your head leant against his shoulder. Rosie trots in front of you happily.

“I could get used to this.” He says suddenly.

“Huh?” It catches you off guard. What does that mean?

“This. The quiet life. Walking my dog in the suburbs...” He says shyly. You get the sense there’s something on the tip of his tongue and you long for him to say it. “I love touring, but these domestic moments... You can’t beat ‘em.” He decides.

You want to kiss him so badly.

Instead, you just hum, and snuggle closer to him, wondering what the hell you’re doing. And that’s a super valid question.

The night goes the same as the last, except you kiss your mom and stepdad goodnight, not wanting them to have to get up in the morning to say goodbye. You suspect your mom will anyways. And she does. As the boys file out of the house, she’s handing them homecooked meals for the road, and you give her one more hug and kiss goodbye, before heading to the bus yourself. The others are on the bus, but Jake stands there, his hands behind his back. You narrow your eyes to him suspiciously.

“You’re an amazing tour manager, you know that?” He says gently.

“Yes, I do. What are you scheming at?” You ask, not totally trusting him.

He just grins as he reveals a brown bag he’s holding, handing it to you. Your confusion only grows as you take the bag and open it only to smell the best thing you have had in months.

A sausage, egg, and cheese on a bagel. With hashbrowns. From your favorite deli.

You almost scream.

“What?!” You gasp, “How did you—”

“I borrowed your mom’s car this morning and got it for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that...”

“Yeah, I did. I meant what I said. You hold us together, and we couldn’t be more grateful. Plus, you’ve been talking about this sandwich for months and—” You don’t let him finish. You kiss him. It’s full of all this pent-up passion you’ve held in, and Jake just wraps his arms around you, deepening the kiss. He wanted this just as much as you did, you realized. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you both lean into the kiss, fully enjoying the moment. Then, he pulls away, saying your name quietly.

You don’t know what to say. Then, the bus honks twice, scaring the shit out of you.

“C’mon you two! We got things to do, you sorry shits!” Josh yells. You can only laugh before you both climb onto the bus. Now, a new lust has overcome you. The lust for the sandwich you hold in your hands.

The lust for the four boys that surround you doesn’t dissipate either.

But as you head for Boston, your boys in tow, your shift as Greta Van Fleet’s tour manager begins once more, and you resume your position easily.

Until Sam kisses your neck. Then you melt again.

[thewebcomicsreview]

Homestuck 2 updated today! Even I'm not enough of a dork to leave a Christmas Party to go read Hamsteak, but it got late and I'm back now, so let's do it. Months ago, but not many, before Alt!Calliope collapsed. Has it really been months, in-universe, since Dave/Aradia left Candy? Time is confusing, especially in Homestuck.

Oh wait, this is after Jade broke free of Calliope's control back in Chapter 6. That was months ago? Man, it's so weird how we've cut back to the Meat Rocket several times since then and Jade just....hasn't done anything or said anything about being possessed? At least onscreen? Totally glossed over.

Probably the biggest mystery in HSBC right now is who the Candyland narrator is. The "Lady" giving commands is clearly Alt Calliope, so who's the narrator pushing back on her here?

Oh. We have another Alt Calliope. An Alt-er Calliope. This seems to literally be the same person as Alt Calliope, though, since they re-fuse. Maybe this is something to do with Ultimate Selves, which might be why non-Alt Calliope is so afraid of her.

Cutting from Alt Calliope talking about decorum to Davebot and Aradia taking selfies with her corpse is a cute gag. I'd forgotten Aradia had a new Calliope-themed outfit. That's kind of weird.

DAVEBOT: to be fair this was typical teen jade behavior DAVEBOT: honestly shoulda done a little more research into that host body

Oh that's an interesting explanation for why Alt-Calliope-In-Pre-Retcon-Jade's-Body passed out (and almost certainly not the original team's reason). But Jade's narcolepsy was Vriska-induced.

DAVEBOT: you just went on another one didnt you ARADIA: yes DAVEBOT: who did you meet this time ARADIA: the necr- DAVEBOT: no dont tell me its simply too much to bear ARADIA: are you doing a bit DAVEBOT: of course im doing a bit

I do like the idea that Aradia uses her time powers to have entire adventures in between sentences. I suppose this also makes Pesterquest's Aradia arc canon, since that involved a bunch of HS2 stuff. I haven't played Pesterquest in forever so I don't know if the "necr-" ("necromancer"?) is a reference to that or foreshadowing.

ARADIA: actually i doomed thousands of timelines DAVEBOT: thats kind of fucked up ARADIA: yeah! ARADIA: to be fair i was doing it on purpose DAVEBOT: thats even more fucked up

Aradia is the best troll.

Dave's pillow wearing sunglasses is a great gag. Also, a cute character moment. Those glasses were a gift from John, and Dave kept them even after becoming a robot.

ARADIA: i could go see him right now DAVEBOT: you wont ARADIA: i wont 0u0

Assuming "him" in Sollux, that seems to imply that Aradia can come and go to Candyland freely, which is...interesting.

ARADIA: youre welcome 0u0 ARADIA: anyway the point im making here is that some of these missteps end up serving a grander purpose ARADIA: things that seem unimportant or even “wrong” can end up being essential components of whats meant to happen ARADIA: and who even decides whats wrong in the first place? DAVEBOT: i dunno megido thats borderline blasphemous

This is pretty obviously about Candyland, especially since Dave just shit on his pre-Ultimate Candy self as being a different person from a "lame" timeline, and "How much does it matter if something is canon or not?" is the question HS2 is allegedly about in the first place. But also I kind of like this nerdy time shit philosophizing even without the thematic subtext. The Homestuck EU has mostly been "Trolls! Aren't they neat!" and Ultimate Selves, but the Classpects haven't really been talked about much for a long Time.

Dave also refers to "Skaia's alpha timeline" in this conversation, but it's never been fully clear to what extent Skaia was pulling the strings. The "alpha" timeline was just the one with no paradoxes, and it was Lord English, not Skaia, who was making it so restrictive.

ARADIA: whats the right way for a butterfly to flap its wings? DAVEBOT: the way that doesnt make me gay

Dave...you are gay. You've been gay since Homestuck proper. It was a big part of why your marriage to Jade fell apart. Ultimate Dave is comprised of all Daves, and since Dave quit time-traveling before figuring out his sexuality, he seems to have regressed somewhat.

Dave was always scared of creating Dead Daves. "Dead Daves are the enemy", and it's why he doesn't time travel any more, and Aradia here seems to be arguing that this is limiting him, that he can't grow and explore without breaking some rules and dooming some timelines. This is, of course, Thematic™. You can't go in an interesting new direction if you're too worried about sticking to what the story's "supposed" to be about.

DAVEBOT: also now feels like a good time to mention that despite my omnitemporal awareness of everything that has and ever will happen to me i actually have no idea where the fuck youre proposing to take me ARADIA: oh word ARADIA: fun huh? DAVEBOT: being real i kind of hate it ARADIA: woohoo! DAVEBOT: youre such a freak DAVEBOT: TONE INDICATOR: AFFECTIONATE

ARADIA: cmon you shithead

This is such a fun pairing.

Hm. Calliope gets back up right as Aradia and Davebot's feeling jam is getting somewhere and makes them stop. Hmmm...

Good update. Aradia is my favorite troll and this was Good Aradia Content. I am increasingly convinced that she is not a Handmaid to Calliope, despite the cult outfit. Also rather interested in what's up with the Double Alt Calliope thing, but I imagine that'll get a follow-up at some point.

[dark-is-d3ad]

More fibro!Ghost because it hurts af, and I'm in for that infusion thingy literally right now, a month ahead of what it was supposed to be. So, I'm not suffering alone, i'm taking the guys on the ride. Christmas with Soap's family, some fluff, and caring Soap included in the pack.

~~~

• The leave is unexpected but still nice, and when Johnny offers to tag along with him on his trip to Glasgow, Ghost agrees, because why not? As if he's got something else to do. Soap promises all sorts of good things except for bourbon ("they'll be offended, and ye have ta try some proper Scotch at least once"), and also that means they'll get some time together. Ghost's sold.

• He's been doing just fine lately, despite last three weeks being full of missions. Hadn't had any problems at all, even though there wasn't much rest between them. It's a bit too good to be true, but who is he to complain about it? His next infusion is scheduled for mid January, and while the month before one is usually the worst because the effect from the previous one starts to wear off, this time he apparently has it good. Unbelievably good.

• Soap's family is big, and loud, and overwhelmingly funny, they roast each other a lot, and all of them got some sick burns, especially his dad. Ghost secretly loves it.

• They're also suprisingly understanding about his balaclava. There is only one question: is he comfortable with it? He nods, and then no one bats an eye, they're so freaking normal about it, as if he's not wearing one at all. After all this time it's refreshing.

• Soap, apparently, doesn't shut up about him at home. They all think he's some badass cool guy, and he fucking blushes, and oh it's so good to have the mask, saves him the embarrassment. He's really not used to this, it's just his job, after all.

• Ghost gets back at him, too, tells them some cool stories about Soap and his demolition work, how he's the smartest guy in the team, and how Johnny saved his ass in a couple of very hairy situations. He finds it really funny when Soap's in his shoes now, mumbling something along the lines of "oh it's just work."

• They go to the gym together early in the mornings, they also go for chilly morning runs every other day, and it's so enjoyable. Sometimes Soap's dad goes with them, too. Scotland is beautiful, hills, and rocks, and fog; Johhny huffs slightly when he runs up the hills, and Ghost feels so light, his legs bouncing softly off the road. The runner euphoria hits him here much more often than it usually does.

• They don't really share a bed, both deemed it too much for a family visit, but they do hang out at Johnny's room until wee hours, and then Ghost sneaks back to the guest room, heart pounding.

• Johnny's nephews are adorable. Ghost teaches them basic survival skills and quickly wins their sympathy. "They're little menaces, Si, why would ye teach them how to start a fire with next to nothing on hand?! I dinnae tell'em for a reason!" The little ones get a lecture on responsibility, and there's that. What was learnt can't be unlearnt, eh? They're finally allowed to practice in the chimney, and they're thrilled when they succeed. Ghost is put on permanent supervising duty because he caused it. He doesn't mind, for a grown-up he's having way too much fun with little pyromaniacs. And he hasn't even shown them his favourite knife yet. That will probably have to wait, he doesn't want to be banned from the house yet. He'll teach them how to throw it one day.

• They get out in the city for a day to get some gifts. Ghost heavily relies on Johnny in this endeavour, but they manage to find something for everyone. The little ones are getting some nerf guns, there's a bunch of knitting supplies for Soap's mum, a nice bottle of scotch for his dad, and some little things for his brother and sisters. Then they split for a bit, because Johnny is hell-bent on finding "the thing", and he refuses to tell Ghost what it is.

• Ghost uses the time to take a walk and get the stupidest kinda thing: a soft cover that goes on a helmet, bright red, fluffy, with little horns on top. He never knew Johnny had a motorcycle in the first place, but that thing looks like it's his already, so he figures he'd just add it to the gift he already got him.

• Christmas is chill and homely, and the dinner is amazing. On Boxing day Ghost doesn't expect any gifts, but he gets a hand-knitted balaclava from Soap's mum, black with a white scull, very much resembling his mask. It's warm and soft, and honestly fucking cute. He also gets some drawings from the little ones, with lots of fire and all of them drawn together around him, a huge ominous figure, but the scull has a little cheeky smile drawn over it. It makes his heart ache a little. It's been years since he got gifts like that. Since... he shuts the thoughts down as quickly as he can.

Then, he gets "the thing" from Johnny, and it's a set of bed linen with hello kitty prints. And it's light pink. "You bastard," Ghost says quietly. "I like it," he adds, almost non-audibly, feeling like he confesses a sin or something. It's really funny, and he's definitely keeping it. Johnny just grins at him, putting the fluffy cover on his helmet.

~~~~

It's all fucking great, until next day Ghost has a night terror. In his dream he's tortured and buried alive again, but this time, there's not only Vernon but lots of bodies, they decay on him, there's no space, their sharp bones pierce him through, and he screams from the pain, and he's dying agonisigly slowly. His own scream wakes him up. The pain is still there, but bearable, his heart beats so fast as if it's going to jump out of his chest. And then he tries to sit up in the bed, and it goes from a 4 to a 9 in an instant. Ghost groans and falls back down on the pillows, defeated. It just had to happen now, of all times, when he's got no access to medical, no meds on him, and it's mid holidays on the other side of the country. And it was all going so good. He probably woke the whole house up with his screaming, too. "Fuck," he thinks.

It hurts as hell, his palms and wrists are the worst, they throb violently as if someone was crushing his bones with a hammer, and there's no fucking breaks. No ebb and flow, no nothing, just pure agony.

A couple minutes later Soap knocks. "Ye OK? Can I come in?"

Ghost hums a yes. "Had a nightmare," he tries to explain. It comes out a bit slurred, and Soap picks up on it immediately. He's seen him in bad flares enough times now to know what's up from the get go.

"Ye got something ye can take?"

"Nuh-uh."

"How bad is it?"

Ghost doesn't come up with an answer to that. It's hard to gauge it, it's so fucking overwhelming.

Johnny turns on small lights, but it still makes it worse. Ghost's losing it quickly, much quicker than it usually would happen, and it scares him. It's not even a ride downhill, he's freaking falling off a cliff at this point.

"Yer as pale as death," - Soap says. He climbs up on the bed and starts doing whatever is that massage of his is, but it barely touches the pain at all. It's still comforting, and Simon moves closer, and that little movement hurts, everything fucking hurts so much.

He's not gonna last through this one. A day, maybe, two at most. If it's a long one that was building up this entire month, he's absolutely fucked.

Another knock on the door. That's Soap's mum. He gets up and goes to talk with her, voice low. He's explaining something calmly, but Ghost can't make out words, and he's too busy trying to keep his composure.

She leaves.

"She's right, Si, we can try whatever meds we have here, and if that doesn't work, we gotta go get ye to the doctor."

"Y'remember I'm legally dead?" Ghost slurrs.

"Oh, fucking hell!"

Soap's mum enters the room. She's got a little tray with some meds and two cups, and a she's got a bottle of water laying on it, too.

"Too early for coffee, and I really hope ye'll sleep some more," she says. "But I got ye some milk. Get well, Simon."

"Thanks, ma," Johnny says. Ghost mumbles a "thank you, mam" too, but she just waves him off, almost offended.

"Ye get better and then ye'll get to "mam" me again. Wake me up if ye need something."

"I'll take care of it. Go to sleep, ma, love ye," - Soap takes the tray, and she leaves.

He takes a shit load of pills. Like the max safe dose he can in one go. The milk is warm and tastes nice, but drinking it all means having to sit upright for a bit, and that sucks major balls now, so he lays back down and closes his eyes. Soap's hands are back on his head, rustling his hair, but he shuffles away.

"It hurts, Johnny."

"It's ok. I'm only trying to help ye." Soap pauses.

"Ye know, that's how mum used to make it for me when I was a wee lad. The milk. Made me a cup now, too."

"It's good."

"Missed that more than I thought."

Soap still stays with him for the night.

It gets even worse by sunrise. Ghost honestly thought there was a limit to it, but it reveals him new fucking shades of suffering. He's fading in and out, sees Soap sometimes. Sometimes he's alone. At some point he really hopes he won't wake up again, because waking up hurts so much he cries in the pillow. The curtains are closed, but the thin strip of light that gets through them is searing, as if it tries to burn itself in the back of his scull. He loses track of time.

In one of this quick bits Soap helps him to get to the bathroom. He doesn't remember how he ends up in bed again. Next time he wakes up Soap's there, but he's got two more guys with him, Ghost doesn't know them. He tries to ask Johnny, but the question refuses to form. Soap still gets him.

"Doctors," he says. "A family friend and his friend. Yer OK, Si, I trust them. You can trust them too."

Ghost would have said a thing or two about trust, but he's so overwhelmed with pain he decides it can wait. And he really does need help, and Johnny's sorting his mess for him the best he can.

"We'll do what you usually get," tells him one of them slowly, making sure he follows him. "And we'll leave a note for you so your doctor knows."

Ghost nods. It doesn't take too long before an IV is set up, they double check the dose and let it run.

"We don't have all the equipment, so we'll make do with what we got, and check on you every now and again. If you feel any metallic taste in your mouth, let us know."

He nods again. Johnny doesn't let him pass out, talks to him, asks him stupid questions. At first it feels like a torture, but then the pain becomes slightly duller, and it's easier to stay awake, even though he's exhausted beyond measure.

"I really contemplated getting ye a vet to get yer meds. The stuff is heavily controlled, these guys could easily lose their licence for what they're doing," Soap tells him. "And the vet's got the same thing, so I thought we could pretend yer legally a horse, and write it off like that."

Ghost chuckles. Then he realises doing so no longer hurts. One of the guys runs him through usual checks quickly - pulse ox, blood pressure, heart rate - and leaves him be again.

"I even came up with a name and the description," Soap continues," Would ye mind to be a black bay stallion called Riley?"

Simon glares at him in response.

"The alternative was," Soap's losing it now, really, he laughs so hard he tears up, "50 rabbits in a trenchcoat. Or like about 10 dogs that needed an emergency surgery on the same fucking day."

"I'd rather be a horse," - Ghost finally manages. The IV is definitely working, from a neverending flow of pain it turned into waves that come and go, and it's so, so much better already. His brain still feels like mush, but at least he can talk again.

"Scared the shit outta me, Si," Soap confesses. "These guys are legally treating me dad for a bout of back pain, yer not gonna be on any records. Called Price, too, they needed to know what ye were on and shit."

"He's on break."

"Ye, I figured he likes ye alive. It only took a couple phone calls from him. He does wanna talk with ye when we're back."

That can't be good. He's too tired to care about it now, though.

"I wasn't gonna die from that," he retorts.

"It looked like ye were," - says Johnny way too seriously. "OK, I see yer getting better, the attitude's back, can I punch ye now?"

"How long I was out?"

"It's 31st today. Nearly two days, three if we count the first evening."

"Fuck. I'm so sorry."

He can't tell if Johnny's annoyed with him or sad, but he has a weird expression on his face.

"Yer a complete wanker, Si, sometimes I hate ye so much."

"Thank you," - Ghost says, and opens his arms for a hug. He desperately needs it, and it seems like Johnny does need one, too. After all of what Ghost had put him through. Came with him, ruined his break with his family, made him worry and find him fucking IV ketamine from nowhere. He didn't even have any of the rescue meds with him. Great job, Simon, really outdid yourself with this one.

But Johnny does hug him, and the hug doesn't hurt at all, so Ghost just pulls him on the bed and hugs him tighter, almost afraid to let go. As if something would break if he did. Johnny doesn't let go either. They stay like that, in silence, until the infusion setup starts beeping.

After he's done, they make him drink some water and tell him to rest. He really feels a lot better, the residual high from ketamine doesn't feel remotely as confusing as the brain fog was. He's still not perfectly steady on his feet, but that'll do.

He even joins the family for the New Year Eve. Mrs McTavish practically forces him under a plead on the sofa. "I can see how pale ye are even through the mask!"

He tries to apologise again for the mess he had caused, and gets scolded for the attempt by the rest of them. And Johhny adds to it, the traitor. He really loses in numbers, and under the joint assault of McTavish clan, he has to concede. Not his fault, they say, he didn't spoil anything, he's fine, and they're happy to have him.

Anyway, in the end Ghost gets a plate of festive food, and he gets to hang out a little, and to rest close to the warmth of the chimney, and when the littles come to cuddle him, he thinks that he really doesn't deserve Johnny. And all the people Johnny brings alongside him.

But Soap thinks different. Soap sees Simon falling asleep at his parents' couch, and his nephews passed out snuggling him, and thinks that's the best fucking thing that happened to him in a while. Even if that thing is a stubborn bastard of a guy that doesn't know when to take a break.

~~~

"Will ye be back for Easter?" Mum asks him.

"Dinnae. I'll try."

"Bring yer friend again if he wants. He's a good lad, and wee bairns like him."

Oh.

~~~

P.S. about the talk.

It's not a discharge yet, but Price will enforce stricter rules on him (now it's not "just tell me if you're feeling off", it's "every time it's even a little off, you tell me", which leaves him no room to cover things up), and they will account for it more when missions are planned. And he has to have rescue meds on him at all times from now on.