#significantly worse than the cabinet

[release-the-sheep]

built a vanity today and felt butch about it but god at what cost

[ldrfanatic]

If the World Was Ending

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader Part Two of Craw Home to Her

A/N- after weeks it's finally here! This isn't a direct songfic like the first part, however, it's accompanying song is If the World Was Ending by JP Saxe

Slight alteration to the original timeline of events of Half-Blood Prince

crawl home to her (part I) works slytherin boys masterlist

After that party in the Slytherin Common Room, you and Theo had begun dating. And for the entire month of January, a perfect Valentine's Day, and everything was perfect. Now, with Spring Break is rapidly approaching, the war is becoming more and more real. Everyone in your small circle knew of the tasks that had been assigned to you and a few other children of prominent Death Eaters in preparation of their takeover of Hogwarts at the end of the year.

Draco had begun to stress and look worse for wear as the weight of this secrecy from Hermione started to settle in. Mattheo, who had the worst of the lot of you, had given up on his usual banter with Potter and had been holed up in the boys' dormitory for the past two weeks or so.

Though there'd been an uptick in the moods of Theo and yourself in the midst of your new relationship, the novelty and puppy-love air had dampened when a letter from Theo's father arrived a few days ago requesting a visit home in the upcoming spring break. While your parents had been relatively silent since giving you your assignment, you knew that they'd want a progress update soon, and you hadn't even worked up the stomach to begin at all.

The thought of betraying your classmates and professors at Hogwarts had become sickening to all of you.

Still, sitting here in Theo's arms under a large oak tree at the Great Lake, you couldn't find it in yourself to feel scared or sad. There was a soft and sweet bubble of love around the two of you with a warm air that seeped into your bones and warmed your soul. Theo pressed a sweet kiss to your temple and when you turned to meet his eyes, you were unsure how you never realized that Theodore Nott was in love with you. Especially if he'd been looking at you like that all this time.

"You know I leave next Tuesday, love?"

The deep rumble of Theo's voice in his chest felt like a lightning bolt through your body that had electricity simmering at the tips of your fingers and your toes. How you'd never realized you were also madly in love with Theodore Nott you were also unsure of. Had your body always reacted to him this way? The thought of being away from him for 10 days made your heart sink a little lower than you'd anticipated. You and Theo had been each other's light as the skies darkened and the air turned cold. You could predict now that your mood would suffer significantly from a lack of Vitamin Theo.

"I'll miss you."

"And I you," His arms tightened around your torso and pulled you further back into his chest. "have you heard from your mum yet?"

You shook your head and tried not to think about the rage you'd certainly face if you didn't start on your task soon. You'd never particularly been friends with Katie Bell, but the thought of cursing her made you a little queasy. Especially when it meant the end result was weakening Dumbledore so that Mattheo could deliver the final blow.

Still, Draco and Theo both has worse jobs than your own. Draco was still working on the Vanishing cabinet and adjusting to his new dark mark bestowed to him by his aunt, and your mother, Bellatrix LeStrange. Theo had been tasked with enlisting the help of the Acromantula and Centaurs in the Dark Forest and it wasn't going very well. When he'd returned the other night, he'd had arrow cuts all over after rapidly fleeing the scene when his meeting with a group of centaurs turned sour.

In short, you'd been given an easy and simple task with minimal danger. But you'd been given it because it was essential. Should you fail to deliver this curse to Dumbledore, when Mattheo advances on him, he will surely lose, and the Dark Lord will descend upon the entire lot of you with a fury unknown.

"You'll be fine. And the curse won't kill Bell, she'll just be a little rattled."

You whipped your head upwards to your boyfriend and flashed him a bewildered look. "They asked me to use Imperio, Theo! That's an unforgiveable."

"I know. But in the grand scheme of things, we'll all be otherwise occupied before this whole thing is over."

You settled back into his embrace without another word.

You knew he was right.

But you just couldn't stomach it.

Turns out you were right. You couldn't stomach it.

You tried to be as quiet as possible as you deposited the contents of your stomach behind the Three Broomsticks. Thankfully, the bustling sounds of Hogsmeade during Spring Break were cover enough for the sounds of you retching.

But it was done. Katie Bell had been successfully cursed, given her mission, and sent on her way to the Headmaster's Office.

It was the last few days of Spring Break and Theo was supposed to return soon. Your nerves ad been on edge since he'd left. Now that you completed your task, you felt a little better but you wouldn't be able to relax until Theo was safely back into your arms. Only two more days and he'd be back.

After what turned out to be an unsuccessful attempt to curse Katie, you went back to your dorm room and tried to ignore the growing feeling of dread inside of you. Once your mother heard of your failure through Professor Snape, you were pretty much done for. You didn't attend Dinner that night and instead decided to remain holed up in your bed with your curtains drawn shut. You weren't exactly in the mood for sympathies.

However, your plans to sulk for the evening were interrupted quite suddenly by Pansy Parkinson. "Y/n get up! They're here."

You rolled over halfway and stared bewildered at your friend. "Who's here?"

"The Death Eaters."

A chill ran straight down your spine. They weren't supposed to be here until the end of the year. They weren't supposed to come until Theo came back. Still, you flung yourself out of bed and quickly pulled on your tennis shoes and a jumper to protect you from the cold air. When you finally exited the common room, it was pretty clear where the Death Eaters were. Students were tearing off in waves away from the Great Hall. You could hear your mother's manic cackling and curses fired into the crowd caused even more panic.

You masked your fear with an emotionless facade and began shoving through the crowd towards your mother trying to appear as mean as possible and firing meaningless spells into the crowd.

As soon as your mother could see you, she bound towards you with a grin. It was hard to tell if she was angry or excited. It was always hard to tell. "Daughter! You've done so well. The Dark Lord will be so pleased. Dumbledore is dead!" You tried to smile and look happy with the news but your chest tightened further. Dumbledore was dead, Theo was missing, and you were now back into the clutches of your insane mother.

Part of your heart sunk at her words. You'd never particularly cared for your mother but it was always The Dark Lord will be so pleased or The Dark Lord is proud or The Dark Lord cares for all of his disciples and never her saying those things to you. She was never pleased, never proud, and she never cared. Harry Potter came suddenly around the corner of the corridor and fired a stunning curse that hit Crabbe's father dead center in the chest.

Your mother's face instantly turned from pleased to enraged and she let out the cruciatus curse in a bellow. You didn't see the remainder of the encounter as she and the other Death Eaters took off after Potter. A temporary relief calmed your heart. Snape hadn't said anything to your mother. At least not yet. Maybe you could convince him not to say anything.

As you ran through the castle, you'd noticed dead bodies of classmates that'd been slaughtered by the Death Eaters' rampage. Still, no sign of Theo. You begun to fear for your boyfriend. There's no way that Nott Sr. would come to the castle on this mission without Theo. You were so lost in your head, you didn't see Hermione until you slammed into each other and knocked heads. Your movements mirrored each other as both of your arms shot up to rub at your temples.

"Y/n! Have you seen Draco?"

You shook your head sympathetically and wrapped the brunette into what would probably be the last hug you ever gave Hermione Granger.

"I've got to go, but Theo's looking for you. I just passed him outside of the Charms classroom running around like a madman." She sprinted away from you but turned momentarily to shout after your own retreating figure. "If you see Draco, tell him I love him!"

You took off towards the Charms classroom with a new fervor. Please Salazar let Theo be okay. Finally, you heard his voice. "Y/n?! Y/n!!"

"Theo! Theo I'm here!!"

The moment you laid eyes on Theodore Nott your heart stopped. He was covered head to toe in bruises and his skin had paled since you saw him last. He looked downright awful. But that didn't stop you from launching yourself into his embrace and squeezing like the world depended on it. Draco, Mattheo, Blaise, and Pansy were all rallied behind him. Pansy was tucked into Blaise' side. Draco had his wand drawn and was frantically checking every door in the corridor no doubt looking for Hermione.

"She's not here, D. I ran into her maybe five minutes ago. She asked me to tell you that she loves you. Then she took off towards the East Wing of the castle."

Draco immediately started sprinting in the direction you'd come from with Pansy and Blaise hot on his tail.

You recentered on Theo who pressed his forehead down into yours.

"What has happened to you Theodore Nott?"

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if the sun were shining or if the world was ending, I will always be right here. With you."

You stared up at him. "The world is ending, my love."

You pressed your lips against his.

okay okay done for now. should I just make this into a series at this point?

WC 1739

2.7.2024

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

I really do get ideas from the most random shit lol.

Heads up: Han Jisung x Fem! Reader, established relationship but it's relatively new, both Jisung and Reader are anxious messes, first time spending the night together, oh no! Reader has nothing to wear other than a skimpy nightgown, dry humping/grinding, cumming while still clothed (both Jisung and Reader), making out, very mild dirty talk and pretty fluffy overall I'd say. This is probably the tamest piece I've written so far.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The hours seemed to tick by so quickly when you and Jisung were together. He'd come over earlier in the day so the two of you could spend time catching up on your favourite animes together. Him having a rare day off for once. However, both of you hadn't been keeping track of time and before you knew it, it was well into the night.

"You can sleepover, if you want to," you blurt, your mouth taking action completely without your brain's consent. You and Jisung hadn't slept over at each other's places yet. So, this felt like a pretty big step in your relationship. You know it doesn't need to be a big deal but, you can't help the way your heart races as you wait for his response.

"I don't want to inconvenience you..." he trails off. You can feel him tense up a little bit behind you, the arm that wrapped around you while the two of you spooned now feeling more rigid.

"Jisung, you wouldn't be an inconvenience. I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't sure," you respond, soothingly rubbing his forearm. And you meant it. Sure, the offer had clumsily come tumbling out but, you did genuinely feel comfortable with Jisung spending the night.

"I- okay. It is pretty late and I don't want to take any risks trying to head back to the dorms," he finally says, relenting.

"You can take a shower if you want to and use my skincare stuff. There should be a spare toothbrush in the bottom cabinet of my sink too. Just let me know if you need anything," you say, turning to face him. Resisting the urge to press your lips to his unfairly appealing ones. There is a faint blush on his face as he nods at your words, only adding fuel to the fire stirring up inside of you. However, you don't want to make him uncomfortable. The two of you have made out pretty intensely before with some heavy petting and groping thrown in but, you haven't gone much further than that yet. Always weary of potentially crossing any lines. So, you simply watch your boyfriend head to your bathroom affectionately, dutifully ignoring the dull ache between your thighs.

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It's when you're standing in your bathroom after having finished taking a shower and completing your skincare routine that it dawns on you how much you've just fucked up.

Most of your pajamas are currently in your laundry basket waiting to be washed. You've been so occupied with university and finishing off the semester that you've unfortunately allowed your laundry to pile up.

The problem?

All you have to wear is a skimpy, little, red nightgown that barely covers your ass, your breasts almost spill out of and that acts as a second skin with how tightly it clings to you. You can feel the warmth flood your face as you hold the soft, cotton garment in your hands.

You love this nightgown. It's one of your sexiest pieces and does wonders for your confidence but, you weren't exactly planning to wear it the very first night Jisung was sleeping over.

God, it really was going to pan out like you were trying to seduce him, isn't it?

You can't go out there naked either. That's significantly worse. You really should make it a point to remain ontop of chores even during the worst times of the semester.

Taking a deep breath, you slip the familiar gown on. Scrutinising your reflection in your bathroom mirror for a moment. Honestly, you looked pretty good. Skin glowing from the extra care you'd taken tonight, the gown heavily accentuating your breasts and contrasting prettily with your skin tone. Doesn't hurt that you smell great too.

Maybe seducing Jisung wouldn't be the worst idea after all, you muse briefly.

Steeling your resolve, you head for the bathroom door.

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"Hey, so I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything but, I don't think I'd be comfortable sleeping in my sweats. I'll keep my shirt and boxers on if that's okay-"

Jisung's words die on his tongue when he sees you.

He's never seen so much of you all at once and, he's not sure what to do and where it is and isn't okay to look. His brain shutting down and leaving him to flounder.

The nightgown you're wearing just barely reaches the tops of your phenomenal thighs and, fuck, the way it hugs your hips and tits? The blood in Jisung's body is fast moving south.

"That's okay. Sorry, all my other pajamas aren't clean right now so, this is all I had left," you say bashfully and, your shyness just makes Jisung want to kiss you and make you cum on his cock more.

"Uh it's okay. This was pretty spur of the moment. You don't need to um apologise," he stammers out, cringing internally at the shakiness of his voice.

The soft smile you shoot him isn't exactly helping his brain remember how to function.

"Okay. We should probably head to bed though. It's already pretty late. You can just put your sweats on my desk chair," you say, turning to switch off the light. Since you prefer to sleep with your curtains not drawn, there's still enough light from outside for Jisung to navigate his way to your chair without making an even bigger fool out of himself.

His heart is in his throat when he turns back to face your bed and finds you already in it, getting comfortable.

Jisung knows that this is completely normal. Couples sleep over at each other's places. Couples sometimes share beds while one half is wearing a skimpy nightgown that makes her tits look extremely appealing and barely reaches her thighs. Totally nothing to be stressed about. Totally.

"Jisung? Everything okay?" Your question and the slight concern in your voice snap him out of his thoughts. Jisung feels disgusted with himself. Here you are offering him your bed for the night because you were worried about him going home so late and he thanks you with what? Fantasising about having sex with you? He feels no better than some hormonal teenager.

"Yeah, sorry. Just got distracted. Be there in a second," he says hurriedly, anxious steps carrying him to the unoccupied side of your bed and he slips under the blanket.

You're both silent for some time. The air feeling tense and unbearable awkward. Jisung is making sure to stay as close to the edge as possible. Keeping a good amount of distance between your body and his. He's got this. He's just going to go to sleep. No problem.

"J-Jisung,"

"Yeah?"

"Can we- would you- would you be okay with cuddling?" You ask after a beat, voice sounding small and shy.

Maybe Jisung does not have this.

Don't get him wrong, Jisung loves cuddling with you. It's easily in his top 5 favourite activities of all time. However, cuddling with you right has his face warming up and his hands sweating. God, how was he going to get through this?

"Sure, I'd love to," and Jisung does mean that, nerves and all.

You shift to move closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and shifting your leg to rest it over one of his own. This isn't an unusual position for the two of you to find yourselves in but, Jisung hesitates to put his hands on you. However, he doesn't want to give you any reason to worry or catch a glimpse into his overthinking brain so he tentatively grasps your thigh.

"I'm glad we got to spend the day together. I've really missed spending time with you," you mutter quietly, nuzzling into his neck and squeezing him just the slightest bit tighter.

Jisung is half convinced this is all just a scheme to make his heart combust.

"Me too. I've missed you a fucked tonne too," he says, giving your thigh an affectionate squeeze in return. Trying his utmost to ignore your breaths against his neck.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" You ask, fingers drawing lazy patterns on the fabric of your shirt. You studiously avoid Jisung's gaze as you wait for his response.

Well fuck. What's Jisung going to do? Say no? Of course not.

"S-sure," he whispers, hoping against hope you don't see the blush he knows is colouring his face.

His breath hitches when your hand comes up to cup his face, gently turning him towards you. You press your lips against his own softly, pressing tentative kisses to his mouth and Jisung happily reciprocates. However, beginning to feel a little bit...impatient, he decides to deepen the kiss.

Very quickly the two of you find yourselves making out intensely. Heat and desire coiling dangerously in Jisung's gut with ever moan and whine you let out against his lips. He's not sure what spurs him on, maybe it's the months of unaddressed want but, he rolls you onto your back. Coming to rest between your thighs and looking down at your startled face.

A cool bucket of dread is dumped on his previously, heated want and he moves to get off of you.

"Sorry. I didn't- I didn't mean to go too far. Fuck, I'm really sorry-"

"Hey woah Jisung, it's fine. I was just a little surprised is all. I'm...okay with going further if you want to too,"

Your words act as match to reignite the embers of desire in his system. Rather than answering you verbally, Jisung chooses to instead return to his previous position and press a bruising kiss to your lips. His hands moving to grip both of your thighs tightly and, wrap them around his waist as he begins to grind his erection against you through your respective layers.

The dam has broken.

You seem to be getting off to this just as much as he is if the volume and frequency of your mewls and moans are anything to go by. Your own hands fisting the back of his shirt while you two grind against each other. Kisses turning sloppy and uncoordinated as you both finally allow yourselves to let go.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty. I've wanted to have you like this for fucking ages," he says against your mouth, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before moving to your neck.

"M-Me too. Wanted you so bad too, Sungie," the admission coupled with your pet name for him makes him grind against you particularly hard. He's more than certain he's found your clit and plans to use that knowledge to his advantage. The high pitched keen you let out pushes Jisung to repeat the movement. Over and over and over again until he feels your wetness leaking onto his boxers.

"You're so fucking hot. Are you gonna cum just from some grinding, baby?" He asks inbetween pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your neck. Paying special attention to the spots that gain him shudders and deeper fingernail scratches on his back through the fabric of his shirt.

"S-Sungie, don't tease," you pout and, fuck are you cute. To be fair, Jisung isn't fairing any better. His cock is probably the hardest it's ever been in his life and his boxers are sticky with his pre-cum. He doesn't have much room to talk but, you don't need to know that.

"You get so cute and shy when I tease you though," he says with a grin, grazing his teeth on your pulse. The way you moan and arch against makes his hips move against yours faster, pressing his own noises of pleasure into your neck.

Knowing you're enjoying this as much as he is, both from your sounds and the wetness he can feel even through two layers, is quickly hurdling him towards climax. Feeling your ridiculously soft tits and hardened nipples isn't particularly helpful either. Jisung makes a mental note to bury his face in them until he can't breathe for next time when you two aren't so desperate and needy.

Right now all he's too focused on how good you feel like this.

When Jisung cums, he's disappointed but, not exactly surprised. He could feel it building for some time but, he hoped his body didn't hate him enough to cum just from some grinding and dry humping. The way he whines against you and shudders in your arms is likely a dead give away that he's come too. However, before he can throw a pity party for himself and spiral into self-deprecation, he notices your moans have gotten louder.

Pulling back to look directly at your face, he's greeted with perhaps the most erotic image he's ever seen. Your eyes are shut and your mouth is shaped into a blissful O. He also realises that your thighs have clamped around him and your grip on his shirt is even harsher than before. However, it's the noticeable gush of wetness against his boxers that finally clues Jisung into what's happened.

You came.

Well, if he hadn't cum moments ago, this probably would've done it.

All he can do is stare at you in awe while you both attempt to catch your breaths, your eyes still shut as you come back down from wherever you ascended to.

"You came?" He asks, still a little stunned by the whole ordeal.

You slowly crack your eyes open to meet his own and he resists the violent urge that arises to kiss you when he sees how dazed you are.

"Y-Yeah, you were just so hot when you came that I think my body just kind of snapped,"

"You didn't think that was...pathetic?"

Your eyes soften at his words, "Of course not, Jisung. I'd never think you were pathetic for that. It's the opposite actually. I think it's really hot. I mean, I did eventually cum because I realised you did," you say with a lazy smile, all warm and affectionate and completely sincere.

This time Jisung does kiss you, albeit not heatedly.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, my panties are starting to stick to me in a very not fun way and I imagine your boxers aren't fairing any better."

[oomisluvr]

YOURS, MINE, OURS (I COULD DO THIS FOR HOURS)

SYNOPSIS: kiyoomi sucks at housework and you are absolutely no help.

WARNINGS: none! probably some swearing, but that’s all :’) useless!sakusa, never-learned-now-to-hang-a-photo!sakusa, also the beginning of domestic!sakusa, sfw!

“It’s a little crooked. Tilt the left side up a bit–No! My left, not yours.”

“We’re facing the same direction, love. It’s the same left.”

“Don’t sass me.” You suck your teeth, “You’re the one that asked for my help.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kiyoomi dismisses you, arms still outstretched to successfully level the small frame, “Does this look any better?”

It doesn’t. It's actually worse now.

“Looks fantastic.” You quip helpfully.

With a final huff, Kiyoomi steps back to look at his handiwork, hands braced on his hips like a proud father. Silence weighs heavy between you two. He sighs.

“I’m gonna burn down this entire building.”

“It’s not that bad, babe.”

“This looks awful. I mean, did I put this up during an earthquake? What even happened?”

“It’s an easy fix. 30 minutes max.”

“Tiktok made it look so easy.” He groans, heading for the kitchen, “‘Quick-and-easy home project’, my ass. This whole ordeal has been lengthy and difficult.”

“You’re not gonna fix it?” You ask, a bit shocked. Kiyoomi’s never been the type to abandon a project of any kind.

“I know my limits. It’s tomorrow's problem.” He decides, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet and hunting for some cereal. Brown eyes peer into your own, “Do I have you for the weekend or are you going home?”

“I think I’ll stay.“ You hum, watching him pour milk into the small ceramic bowl, “Only if we get breakfast in the morning.”

You’ve been told Kiyoomi’s been less uptight since dating you. More friendly. Open-minded. Willing to try new things. You’ve watched him grow significantly since when you first started seeing him, and you’re secure enough in this relationship to say you’ve loved every version of him. You were friends before you were anything more, and dating him has made your relationship even stronger.

“Done.” He nods, capping the milk, “I’ve been meaning to give you something, by the way.” You watch him rummage through the kitchen drawer, a slight tremor in his movements. Whatever he was searching for lands in your hand with a light toss, the object softly clinking when you catch it. “I want you to have this.”

Unequivocal access to his private space. The key to his house. You blink. 

“A key? You want me to start picking up your mail?”

He rolls his eyes, “What I would like is for you to move in with me, but I figured this is the first step.”

“This is…” You swallow, staring down at the metal as if it were alien, “A very big step.”

“I know. I trust you, though.”

To say you’re shocked in an understatement. Your relationship has been nothing short of amazing, but Kiyoomi’s always valued personal space. You expected this stage to come much further down the road.

“My lease ends in a few months.”

“I know.” You see it now, the nervousness radiating off of him. “Believe it or not, I like having you around.”

Shaking your head, “You’ll get sick of me.”

“Impossible. I adore you.”

“I’m messier than you. I’ll leave my clothes everywhere.”

“Then we’ll just have to do laundry together. You wash and I’ll fold?”

“I can’t cook.”

“Me neither.” He suppresses a grin, “But I trust that we’ll figure it out.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m not going to win this, am I?”

He shakes his head, black curls bouncing effortlessly with the movement, “Nope.”

Your expression softens, “I’ll drive you crazy.”

He hums, dipping down to press his lips to yours, “You already do.”

Jumpcut to all the pictures falling off the wall and shattering because Kiyoomi has no life skills :D

THANKS FOR READING!!

[frostandflamesfanfic]

The Mistletoe Test (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

The Mistletoe Test (Rated T)

Pairing: BBC!Sherlock x Watson!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k+

Warnings: Brief language, Sherlock being a Scrooge

Summary: It’s your first Christmas at Baker Street and you’re determined to make it the best one ever. When your brother tries to warn you about his flatmate’s aversion to the holidays, you start to see a whole new side to the consulting detective. Will it affect your friendship?

“That is absolutely pointless.” You heard a thunk of porcelain being placed back onto the counter beside you. It was accompanied by the third exhausted sigh you had heard in the past hour alone. Your brother had apparently finished his morning tea, but still made no effort to assist in your plans. “He’s not going to buy into it and you know it.”

Your tongue poked past the corner of your lips in concentration. The small step ladder you had been perched on wobbled under your movements, but you still managed to keep your balance. “Why must you always be such a Scrooge, John?” you retorted, arms outstretched toward the top of the doorframe. There was a smear of something sticky on the wood and you did your best not to imagine its origin. “I think you might just be afraid that you might get caught under the mistletoe with a certain someone and have a bit of an awakening.”

“I’m not ‘being a Scrooge,’” your brother’s hurt bled through his tone. “And again, I’m not gay. I just don’t think you recognize how…against Christmas Sherlock really is.”

“How can anyone really be against Christmas?” You frowned as you attached the sprig of the plant to the doorframe. Leaning back slightly to admire your work, the step ladder groaned against your movements. “It’s a time for family, for light displays…for God’s sake, it’s Christmas!”

“Careful,” John’s hands reached up to your waist to steady you. “You’re going to fall and break your neck if you’re not careful. Besides, I think that is exactly why Sherlock doesn’t like Christmas. Have you met Mycroft?”

You shrugged as you took a step back down onto the messy kitchen floor. “Doesn’t he have parents, though?” you asked. “Surely he enjoys spending time with them.”

“They’re simple minded,” came a familiar deep tone from behind you. Its presence startled both you and your brother, causing John to remove his hold from your waist. Still perched against the edge of the step, you wobbled before falling backwards without warning, sending you toppling against a strong chest. 

Sherlock peered down at you with an unamused expression as his arms snaked around your waist to set you down. “Just being around them longer than twenty minutes causes my IQ to decrease significantly.” Without so much as another glance at you, he made his way over to the cabinets to grab a cup for some tea. “It’s especially worse around the holiday season. Positively dreadful time.”

You risked a glance over at John in silent question. What just happened? Your brother merely shrugged in response, shaking his head and raised his eyebrows with lips set in a tight line. Like always, it was obvious he had no clue. He lifted his own cup of tea and set off toward his chair to flip through the morning’s newspaper. 

You hadn’t been residing at Baker Street long, but you could tell this was the boys’ typical routine. Every morning, John rose early to have his breakfast and read the paper before trudging off to work. Sherlock, on the other hand, would stay up until ungodly hours playing his violin, staring at the bullet-ridden wall, or doing the Lord knows what before sleeping until noon. 

The truth was, you found your brother’s detective flatmate to be a whole mystery in his own right. He was the dark and mysterious stranger who you had only vaguely known secondhand through your brother’s stories. Seeing and interacting with him in the flesh gave you a different perspective. Sure, he drove you mad as all hell, but you couldn’t help but be enticed by his demeanor. You didn’t plan on falling for him. It was just almost attractive how he acted. His tone was sharp and to the point, he didn’t care to be bothered by trivial things. Yet underneath the harsh exterior, you knew he had a soft spot when it came to those he cared about. 

So that’s how you came about hatching the plan. It was the infamous mistletoe test, according to your coworker. If one hangs a sprig of mistletoe and stands underneath it. If the object of their affection walks by and doesn’t notice, the attraction is one sided. A kiss of the cheek assumes a platonic connection. Finally, the most obvious sign of shared attraction is a kiss on the lips. It was a stupid idea. You felt it in your bones as you stuck it up on the doorframe. But with John there, it was too late to back out. 

Besides, what could possibly happen? If Sherlock really was as opposed to Christmas as John said, there was a good chance the mistletoe wouldn’t even mean anything to him. He could just walk under the plant with no knowledge of the tradition at all. It wouldn’t be a big deal, right? You couldn’t help the pang of disappointment in your stomach at the thought. Would it really be that big of a deal?

“What the hell is this in my lab?” Sherlock’s voice cut through your thoughts and snapped your attention toward him. He was staring at the small wooden trees and garland wreath you had placed in the center of the kitchen table as though it was about to explode. You had needed to clear up the surface a bit after his constant experiments, but you had been proud of the end result.

“They’re Christmas decorations,” you started, but the private detective was quick to cut you off. 

“You have your own flat,” he spat back. “I suggest you use it and place your rubbish somewhere that matters to you, hm?”

Your whole frame stiffened as he began to pick up and shove each trinket into the box. He hardly spared you a glance while he continued through with the task. You watched as his upper lip practically curled in disgust at the garland shedding across the table, pinecones rolling out of the wrapped decoration onto the floor below. “Bloody mess,” he muttered to himself.

Like it was any better before, you wished to shout back. Instead, you merely took the box back from him and headed back downstairs to your flat without another word. As soon as the front door shut behind you, you tossed the box onto your coffee table and sunk to the floor. How could you have been that stupid? You were just trying to do something nice for your brother and his friend. You should have known it wouldn’t have ended well – John had clearly warned you. 

The next few days, you decided it may be a better idea to spend your holidays doing the things you enjoyed instead of worrying about your brother and his flatmate. So you repurposed some of Sherlock’s discarded decor within your own flat, making sure to help Mrs. Hudson with the garland on the outside banister (she was more than pleased to say the least). Things had been going well, especially after you silenced John’s incessant text check-ins with a simple, I’m fine.

Two days before Christmas, you decided to indulge yourself in a little holiday baking. The idea was to bake gingerbread, brownies, and little Christmas puddings to give out as last-minute gifts for the rest of your friends and coworkers. Molly had been hinting about a craving for gingerbread earlier that morning, so you couldn’t think of a better sign to get started. 

Donning your most festive “kiss the baker” apron, you pressed play on a Christmas radio station and got to work. You were so engrossed in your process, you hardly noticed the sound of someone knocking on your front door. It wasn’t until they knocked for the third time– at an increasingly more frantic pace– that you registered the sound and wiped your flour-coated hands on your apron before unlocking the door. 

To your surprise, Sherlock was standing outside your doorway, hands behind his back. His glassy green-blue eyes searched your face in what you could only describe as desperation. He seemed almost nervous as he cleared his throat. The private detective lifted an eyebrow before gesturing with his right hand in a silent question as to whether he could enter your flat. When you gave a small nod, he stepped inside and raised an eyebrow yet again at both your attire and surroundings.

“You haven’t been by the flat in two weeks,” Sherlock spoke after a moment, tone unreadable. 

“I’ve been…busy,” you replied, arm outstretched toward the kitchen. “You know, with simpleton Christmas celebration things.”

Sherlock stiffened at your response, eyes darting around again. “I see.”

“Why would you care how long I’ve been away anyway?”

The private detective before you cleared his throat. “John is also far less irritable when you visit the flat. I’ve counted that he has checked his mobile roughly twenty-two times this morning alone to check for any missed texts from you,” he explained. “I suppose I’ve also come to find your presence rather…tolerable. I function better with a challenge. ”

The two of you stood in an awkward silence for a moment before Sherlock parted his lips to speak again. “We’re having a small get together at Baker Street on Christmas Eve. It was John’s doing, really. I’ve been instructed to invite you to attend.”

You bit into your lower lip and gave a slow nod in return. “Right. Well, with an invitation like that, however could I possibly refuse?!”

“...I detect an element of sarcasm.”

Yeah, no shit, you thought to yourself. For a self-proclaimed genius, the man before you was fairly clueless. “What time does it start?” 

“Seven.”

You gave a small nod and began to lead him back to the door. “I’ll be there,” you said. “Now I really do need to get back to my baking before all I’m left with is ash. Goodbye, Sherlock.” 

“I suppose there is one more thing,” Sherlock mused as he stepped backwards in the doorway. He moved his hands in front of him, opening his left hand. “You left this behind at our flat the other day. I’ve only just thought to bring it round.” 

You frowned in concern as you peered into his gloved palm. Nestled inside was a small sprig of mistletoe – the same plant you had hung in the kitchen doorway, no doubt. You hadn’t thought much of it since your dramatic departure from your brother’s flat, having just assumed Sherlock would have thrown away whatever remnants of Christmas you had left behind. “You didn’t need to bring it,” you replied smoothly. “It’s inexpensive and won’t do me much good.”

Sherlock gave a silent nod, eyes now locked onto yours. “Most likely not,” he agreed. “However, there is a…tradition.” 

You watched as his gaze flickered from you, to your apron, the doorframe, the mistletoe in his hand, then back to you. Your breath hitched ever so slightly as you tried to decipher his meaning. Surely you must be mistaken. Before you had a chance to comment, Sherlock lifted the plant above your head and pressed a quick kiss upon your lips. It was soft, gentle even, but just so Sherlock. It had an air of elegance, yet was commanding enough to be orchestrated perfectly. 

When he pulled away, you needed to blink a few times to reorganize your thoughts and look at the man before you – truly look at him. He gave you a smug little smirk and stepped out into the hallway. “Might want to check your oven,” he mused as he placed a foot on the first stair and began to make his way upstairs. Suddenly, he paused and turned his head to face you. “And merry Christmas.”

You gave him a soft smile before stepping back into your own flat and shutting the door. “Merry Christmas, Sherlock,” you whispered to the wood and made your way back to the oven. 

Maybe that test wasn’t so strange after all.

===================

Author’s Note: Well, I meant to post this before Christmas, but I just didn’t get a chance to with my schedule. So why not make this my final fic post of 2022? Damn, that’s weird to say. I haven’t watched Sherlock in forever, but I plan to before I head back to uni for the next semester (hoping it’ll give me inspiration to get back to The Last Three Years). There’s just something about how Benedict portrays this character that makes him so fun to write. Especially around the holidays (:

Like always, if you enjoyed this fic and want to see more like it, make sure to leave a comment, tag a friend, even reblog. Likes are appreciated, but it’s interactions like these that spread the word about my works and motivate me to keep writing/posting content for you all.

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Taglist: @bakerstreethound, @theelmgrove, @severuined, special tag for @sobeautifullyobsessed as a holiday treat 💙

[dreamsgazer]

Hello 🤗, love your works. I know you've done a sick prompt, but I was wondering if you would want to write another sick prompt with a crybaby reader who gets a migraine and (if this doesn't gross you out although this doesn't have to be in great detail ofc) throws up and Tan comforts the reader because they're in pain.

Dear Anon, you have no idea how happy I am to have received this ask, and thank you for your kind words! It means a lot!

I hope I did your request justice!

Warnings: mention of v*mit, nothing graphic at all though, some mild swearing.

MASTERLIST | Requests open, but I'm a bit slow in answering them!

Safe Harbor

The bang of pain makes you open your eyes and wince immediately after.

A migraine. A fucking, painfully horrible migraine.

You knew you shouldn't have indulged in the celebrations for Tangerine's return as much as you did. Too much sweets, too much champagne, too much loud music in the night after your scrumptious dinner together, too much of everything - except for the sex. Frankly, there is no such a thing as too much welcome -back- home- sex.

You fell asleep so happy, and now you feel on the verge of screaming in frustration.

As quietly as you can, not wanting to disturb his sleep, you slip outside the bed, sway down the hall, and reach the bathroom just in time for your stomach to explode.

You feel horrible, gross, and cold, not to mention that running to the toilet has significantly worsened your head's throbbing.

When a second wave of nausea hits, in the middle of the chaos you feel a fresh hand pressing against your sweaty forehead, while your hair is kept away from your face, wrapped in a rudimental ponytail.

"It's okay love, I've got you. Breathe."

Tangerine.

Of course, he woke up. He's such a light sleeper that you wonder if he sleeps at all or just lays down with his eyes closed.

You want to tell him you are sorry you interrupted his rest, you are sorry he has to see you in such a state, you are sorry for being sorry for something you can't control, but all you can do is whimper weakly that you have a migraine.

When the worse has passed, he helps you to sit with your back against the cold, tiled wall of your bathroom. Tangerine immediately notices how you wince when the faint dawn light hits your face, and quickly closes the roll shutters.

"Thank you," you murmur, letting tears slip down your flushed cheeks "I'm sorry."

"What the fuck are you sorry about?".

You gesture at yourself with trembling fingers, too much in pain to even contemplate a witty retort.

He shakes his head, kneeling before you "Let's bring you back to bad, shall we?"

The thought of standing and walking makes you want to cry a bit harder than you are already doing, and you lean on him without shame, wetting his bare shoulder with your tears, and whimpering at every step. He holds you while you wash your face and rinse your mouth, and not once he looks bothered of how slow and whining you are being.

When you are finally laying down on the stupidly costly sheets Tangerine insisted to gift you some months ago, he firmly orders you to wait for him there, while he goes and searches for some ibuprofen in your cabinets.

When you don't reply with one of your retorts, he frowns "That much in pain, uh?"

"Migraines suck," you whisper softly, closing your eyes once more.

Tangerine presses his lips against your forehead, his words tender on your skin "Be back in a second, alright, love?"

Swallowing the tab and the water goes more smoothly than you thought, thanks to his strong arm holding your shoulders, but you can't help rolling on your side and groaning when your brain crashes against your temples with a spasm.

Yep, this definitely sucks.

The mattress dips when Tangerine slides next to you, his arm holding you close to his side, comfortably resting between his chest and those biceps you love to hold on to so much.

"Try to get some sleep, beautiful, it'll help."

"I doubt it," you whimper bitterly, snuggling even closer to him. Despite the shower he took when he arrived at your apartment, his skin carries a faint track of cigarette and vetiver from his perfume.

Perhaps it doesn't help with the migraine, but it's a welcome reminder you are not alone and he's returned safely from his last mission.

"Trust me," he insists with a huff "When you are in pain, nothing is like some good, old sleep."

Well, you guess that when it comes to pain, he has way more experience than you, so maybe his advice is not so wrong.

"Thank you for being so patient with me," you whisper, kissing his scarred skin. His moustache tickles the tip of your nose in return, and he grunts "Don't mention it."

Tangerine is an exceptional partner, in many ways, but you know he still feels funny when you praise him for being kind, or gentle, or nice to you.

He's used to being strong, in control as much as he can, tough to the point of breaking himself before letting anything happen to Lemon or you, once he allowed himself to welcome your relationship in his heart.

You guessed a long time ago that a successful assassin cannot afford to be perceived as anything less than deadly dangerous, and from the bits he told you about his and Lemon's childhood, being praised was dramatically rare.

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

Considering all of this, the fact that he lets you see the side of him that adores cuddles, gentle teasing, and plain affection feels like a privilege.

Your breaths synchronize, and you feel your eyelids heavy.

"Tangerine," you murmur and he kisses your forehead again in silent acknowledgement "I'm really happy you are here."

A moment of silence, and perhaps you can feel his body pressing even more into yours before he answers quietly about breakfast together in the morning and a day just for the two of you.

If you liked it, please feel free to comment and reblog! I truly appreciate it.

[coonhoundcat]

Coffee Liqueur | Villain X Hero

"It would have been easier, I think, if we could've just done this from the start."

Hero hummed a little in response, carefully moving the kettle off of the burner with a dirty hand towel-- and withdrawing with a slight hiss as the heat seeped through the cotton anyway.

Villain watched, chin resting on their hand, elbow propped up on the counter. They raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think so?"

"Mm. Easier, sure."

"Wish I'd just come here first, honestly."

Hero reached for a mug-- hesitating for a moment at the choices-- before selecting the short black one. "I don't."

"You don't?"

"I don't."

They shoveled two tablespoons of freeze-dried coffee into the cup, gazing at it thoughtfully. Then they added one more, before braving the kettle handle once more.

"…. You don't." Hero could feel Villain squinting at the back of their head, the corners of Hero's mouth twitching upward at the absolute incredulity directed their way.

When they had finished stirring their beverage and turned around, Hero was not disappointed by the bewildered, pinched expression on their companion's face-- fingers digging slightly into their cheek as if they weren't quite sure what else to do with them. It made their skin look a little pinker.

"I wouldn't have enjoyed it, then." Hero brought the mug to their lips, returning the villain's full stare. "Wouldn't have appreciated it."

They grimaced, quickly lowering the cup after a brief sip. Their eyes watered a little from the taste and smell. "Wouldn't have been pleasant for anyone else, either."

Hero placed the mug gingerly back on the counter, turning to shuffle through a different, higher cabinet.

"… So you've no regrets?"

Hero paused briefly, in the middle of sliding two large bottles out of their way. "No-" they thought for a moment, and swallowed. "No."

"It- it would have been easier-- in some ways. Technically. But I wouldn't have learned anything." They reached further back into the cabinet, lifting up on their toes for the slightest of advantages. "Would have been just as- well. You know. Or, knew." Their voice came out strained. "-Me, that is. I wasn't exactly- well. Mm." Hero bit the inside of their cheek. "The point is- ah! Yes-"

Hero more-or-less slid back out of the cabinet, a wide, flat bottle clasped triumphantly in their hand. Hastily, they unclasped it-- and after a quick whiff, proceeded to douse about half the contents into their already overburdened mug.

"…. Isn't it only eleven in the morning?"

Hero hummed again, taking a long sip from the ceramic-- and coming away with a significantly more pleased expression. "Yes." They answered shortly, before taking another sip. "The point is, it's been more difficult-- by far, but- I've been becoming a better person because of it. And…I don't think I would have, otherwise."

Villain tapped the counter with their free hand, expression struggling somewhere between genuine and sour. "… I thought you were a good person."

"Well, you were worse than I was."

"Excuse me- WHAT-"

"Who, exactly, continued committing Horrors after the other had already left their division?"

Villain writhed in their seat, hands dropping to clutch rigidly at the edge of the counter. "We're meeting in the middle, Hero! This isn't- we're even!"

"If I had to walk three blocks and you had to take the train thirty miles, I wouldn't exactly call that meeting 'in the middle', Villain."

"They were both bad!"

"Yes, and yours was worse."

[psychoticallytrans]

So, I just saw a post that explicitly stated that Tylenol,also known as acetaminophen, can't harm you. Tylenol is actually a drug that can easily harm you if you don't monitor your dosage carefully. Specifically, it can fuck up your liver really badly, and potentially fatally, if you consume too much too quickly.

It's also very easy to do. The maximum safe dose of Tylenol for an adult or teenager over 110 pounds is 4000 mg per day, or 1000 mg in one dose. The amount of Tylenol in some Tylenol pills is 500 mg. It's very, very easy to consume ten pills instead of eight when your head is messed up from being in pain, or to decide that three pills at once can't be that much of a risk. Dosing guidelines for children based on age and weight can be found here.

People that should be especially careful with how they use Tylenol include people with damaged livers and people who breastfeed. Since Tylenol overdose affects the liver, people who already have a damaged liver are at risk. In addition, it passes into breast milk, so if you're breastfeeding, the child will consume some. Please consult your doctor before using Tylenol while breastfeeding.

Regardless of if you're at risk or not, I strongly recommend keeping a record of how much Tylenol you consume, especially if you're in enough pain to be disoriented and/or have memory issues. Post it somewhere you go to take the Tylenol, like on your medicine cabinet's mirror. Include the time you took it, the dose you took, and the max safe dose for yourself. You may also find it useful to add your cumulative dose for the day each time you take some.

If you're close to the dosage maximum, please take a very close look at any other medications you are taking to make sure none of them contain Tylenol or acetaminophen. It's often included in cold medicines in particular, and anything intended to reduce fever.

If you are in significant pain and close to the dosage maximum, add a different kind of pain medication to the mix. This applies to ibuprofen, of course, but it is also significantly safer for most people to add opioids to their pain management than it is to go over the dosage limits for Tylenol. This is because, I cannot overstress this enough, overdosing on Tylenol can lead to death. This is a significantly worse outcome than most people have from taking opioid painkillers.

This is not an anti Tylenol post. Tylenol, when used in proper doses, can be hugely helpful for pain management, and is accessible and affordable. This is an anti accidentally giving yourself liver disease post.

Be careful. Read warnings. Monitor your dosage.

[theoscouts-sideblog]

Murder Drones episode 8 spoilers

I've been told to treat this like a thesis, or at least a plan for one! :D

So... nothing really gets explained?

Who was the solver? Why was it so hellbent on killing everyone? Why did it want to kill all the drones? Why did it kill all the humans? The character development that it had an edgy reason for killing humans thanks to being mistreated by them, so does it just kill for no reason? What happened to Cyn? She shouldn't have just melted away because her heart was torn out, I was hoping they'd pick her up and study her or something. Who were the witches anyway? What did Nori do that Alice said was a betrayal? How did V figure out that "Tessa" was Cyn? Why was J knowingly following the orders of Cyn? No emotional conflict about betraying Tessa? Why was Cyn evil anyway? Was she evil before she came back from the dead?

Yeva doesn't show up? What happened to her? Why was the solver eating hearts?

And... no character development for J? Or Tessa? Or Doll? Or Khan? Or Thad? Or anyone really?

What was up with that one raptor who swapped sides to the drones? It really looked at V kill like 50 of them and went 'hm yeah, I'll join them lol'

Why didn't it help Alice? Or the other disassembly drones that came before the main three (excluding Flesha)? Why did it only activate to save V? What made it special from the other raptors? How did V know that it would try to protect her? And why does it appear sapient enough to play chess and wear a hat, but attack Lizzy for no reason?

Who made the cross thing capable of destroying the Solver?

I get the feeling a lot of things were scrapped.

Years ago, Liam said that 'we mightn't like what we find' when questioning the drones origins, implying that the drones had a nasty backstory. The murder drones series is over and we still don't have answers other than 'they're industrial drones to mine planets'. I was thinking they would be made from former humans or something? Or that the absolute solver was shattered into pieces to form their consciousnesses, and she was killing them to get those parts of her back, and that the murder drones needed to consume other drones because they were designed to collect more power for her.

J hesitated and seemed confused or hurt that Flesha told her to guard the ship, like she didn't know it was Cyn she was following. Also, J's an inconsistant character, she said she would follow the Solver because it's good to be on the winning side, but during the gala when it was clear that Cyn had the upper hand, she didn't betray Tessa, and even fought Cyn with a sword!

What happened with the experiments in cabinet 9? Who were the rest of the test subjects? What happened with Nori? Yeva was teased a lot but she didn't make an appearance.

The last episode had a few cool fight scenes, and the visuals were cool, but that's around all the positive things I can say for it. I'm glad that the solver is dead though. While... N and V stay in the colony and continue to murder people because they feel like it? Do they ever get rid of their need to drink oil, or stay out of the sun?

Also, what's Cyn going to do now that she's possessing Uzi's tail? She doesn't seem that upset about it at all, Uzi seemed more upset about Doll being the prom queen in memorial than the fact her would-be-murderer who's done significantly worse things is now stuck to her.

???

Why'd they have to disrespect Doll even more in this episode than they did in the last... it's a meme but story wise it doesn't really make sense imho

Animation and fight scenes and music were cool though

[stormyweaver]

The Jake + Adam Series 1/0

So! Like I said in an earlier post, having a new laptop has significantly increased my drive to write. This one's actually a commission for the lovely @bigsnzstanacct that I wrote a bit ago but am finally posting!

This definitely won't be the last seen of these two, I became rather fond of them quickly but I'll come up with a better title for their adventures a bit later. Anyways, this was a joy to write for you dear, and I hope everyone else enjoys as well! ;3

-

Adam had been idly flipping through a magazine when it happened. It wasn’t even an interesting article - something about the benefits of kale vs spinach because apparently that was a debate now? Eh, the world was always coming up with some new bullshit, he supposed. 

But his attention was immediately arrested by the sudden clang of pots and other cookware in the kitchen. Their living room was just on the other side, of a doorway and, considering their tiny apartment, he likely would have heard the clamor either way. He certainly heard the sudden, panicked gasp that followed, along with an equally frantic call of his name. “A-hahhhdam? N-need you in here huhhh’un!” Oh. Oh fucksicles.

All but sprinting up from his place on the couch, the brunette sped into the kitchen, and wasn’t surprised at the sight that lay before him. His boyfriend - his wonderful, spritely, gorgeous blonde-haired angel Jake - who had his back to Adam, but even then it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know just what had Jake hollering for his assistance. Well… maybe a rocket scientist would actually have come in handy, all things considered. As it was, Jake’s broad shoulders were shuddering up and down unsteadily, back muscles spasming beneath his tight, gray v-neck. Even without stepping closer, Adam could see that the poor thing’s frame was dotted in some kind of… substance, and– yep. There was the unmistakable scent of cayenne. Well, that explained a lot. Far more when Jake peeked over a shivering shoulder, and Adam felt his heart ache and also nearly leaped out of his chest at his boyfriend. “Oh, babe…” Jake’s flaxen, wavy hair had speckles of red along it’s tresses and Adam swore he could even see a bit dusting the bridge of his long nose. Which… shit, right, that had to be taken care of – like, NOW. Before Jake could gasp out another word - the poor thing always tried to talk, even though he knew it only made things worse - a firm index finger was rushed beneath his flaring nostrils. Adam shushed him gently, the other hand resting on his hip as he tried to soothe his boyfriend’s nose before it went absolutely nuclear. “You’re okay, baby, we just gotta wash you off real quick, okay? Nod if you can make it to the sink– yeah? Okay, here we go…” Still with a firm pressure beneath the wriggling mass of hyper-sensitive flesh and nerves, Adam gently but steadily urged Jake towards the waiting sink. Thank goodness they had cleaned it out prior - not being able to get Jake all the way beneath the tap would prove to be a real problem. Yeah, as if your boyfriend about to sneeze the entire spice-cabinet to smithereens isn’t considered a ‘real problem’, Adam mused. Although, knowing Jake’s habits, it’d likely be a bit more than just the spice rack. Jeez, they really couldn’t afford to replace the entire upper cabinet space… “HAAHH…!! Ahhh- Adhhahham, I c-c-ahhn’t–!” Pupils shrunk as he felt Jake’s back arch, wincing as a cloud of the aforementioned spice puffed into the air around his boyfriend’s tear-stricken face. His nose lifted from Adam’s finger and he swore at this angle, he could practically see the grains being hovered into the widened, quivering ovals of Jake’s nose.

Adam swallowed thickly. Now was not the time to be both undeniably worried AND incredibly horny. DAMN IT BRAIN, PICK ONE! “Shit baby, please, you gotta try! Just lemme– fuck–” This time, Adam tried to pinch Jake’s massively flared nostrils shut but even that was a struggle all it’s own. The wings protested vehemently, alive with wriggles and flexing that threatened to breach the plug of his index finger and thumb. Despite his urgent panting, Jake’s shoulders loosened a bit, the lift of his chest deflating bit by bit. 

Adam released a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. “Just a little more… 'atta boy, here we go…” It took a bit of finagling- mainly to avoid 1. Getting MORE spice into areas where it definitely would irritate Jake’s face and 2. Readying himself for when Jake inevitably did blow, because at this rate there was no denying that his boyfriend would need to get the already trapped spice out somehow. 

And there was only one way they’d both found to truly rid his nose of the most cloying, tantalizing of irritants… “Just tap when you’re about to let loose, k? That way I can get the towel ready,” Adam rubbed his back reassuringly, his other hand almost hovering over the aforementioned cloth. Sure enough, Jake’s slightly damp head lifted a bit, a shaky hand rapping atop the sink counter. Okay, showtime, Adam supposed.

Once he was sure Jake had the towel steady within his grasp, Adam braced himself for what was next to come. The blonde’s back arched once again, but his head and face were still hovering over the towel in preparation. Chancing a glance over a shoulder, Adam felt his cheeks flood with color at Jake’s expression: desperation soaked every single inch of freckled skin, lower lip trembling as his jaw went slack, gulping in breath after behemoth breath. His poor eyes were flooded with tears, the tracks leaking down his own flushed cheeks threatening to be permanent. 

And his poor nose… Christ on a bike, had he ever seen his nostrils flare so massively? 

In all likelihood, yeah. But something about seeing Jake gear up for a sneeze never failed to strike awe into his very being. Sure there was… something else besides awe but, that could wait. For a while. Hopefully. “hHuuhhh… hHHUHHH…” Adam gulped as he saw Jake’s nose quiver intensely, upper lip catching in a tickly snarl. He opened his mouth, thinking that maybe he should urge Jake to go ahead and let it out - but apparently, a verbal allowance was nowhere near necessary. “HUHHHH…!!! HHHRRRRSSCHHHHHH’HIIIIIEEEEEWWW!!!!”

The sound reverberated off the walls of the small space like a bouncy ball, and Adam couldn’t help but wince at how Jake’s large frame nearly tried to snap in half. But he knew there was at least one or - dear God he hoped not - two more in his lover. “hHHAHH–?! IIHHH– HHRRRSSSCHHHH’IIIUUEEE!!! IISSCHHHHUUUEEE!!!”

Ah, yep. Two was a fair bet. Adam felt his own nose twinge in sympathy, speeding up his rubbing across the expanse between Jake’s heaving shoulders. “There ya’ go, baby… get it all out… Christ, might need to reinforce the walls again after that…” He quipped, only once he was sure Jake had indeed finished. The thick, but hopefully relieving emptying of his sinuses into the towel affirmed his suspicions, and he couldn’t help but flash a cheesy half-grin at Jake’s not-so-subtle dead-pan across the damp cloth. “Seriously? SDFK! You’re one to talk, as if we didn’t have to send like… three pies out to the neighbors when you had a cold last month,” Adam felt his cheeks darken at the memory, brushing a thumb against his nose with a shy sniff. “Fair, fair. But we’re talkin’ about you now, big guy. Sure ya’ got all of that shit outta your system?” Jake hummed in thought, scrubbing at his flushed nostrils carefully before exhaling with a nod. “Yeah, think that’s all of it… Geez, we gotta get an actual spice rack, Adam. That thing’s a hazard,” To you at least, Adam mused with a rueful smile. However Jake definitely noticed his musing, and he rose a brow. “Or maybe you’re hoping this’ll happen again…?” If not for the obvious teasing tone, Adam would have likely combusted on the spot. Which was always one of Jake’s favorite fucking pastimes - making Adam blush until he was essentially a walking red crayon.

Asshole… loveable, but still an asshole.

“Tch, no. Absolutely not! What would you’ve done if I hadn’t been here in the first place, huh? Thanks for the assist, Adam! Oh, you’re so welcome, Jake!”

Jake simply rolled his eyes, though there was a fondness within the reaction, only further reinforced when he cupped one of Adam’s overheating cheeks. “My knight in shining armor, I dare say I wouldn’t ever know~ Better?” Adam swallowed past his suddenly tight throat, subtly leaning into the large palm. “... better. Now c’mon, let’s get you outta here before there’s a repeat performance… your highness,”

[jaywhere]

moom, dad and dad are fighting over which of them is the most fucked up again :(

poolverine wip extend, ~7k. i have been confined to my tablet with a bluetooth keyboard so she is no doubt extremely messy and i am also too lazy to post in parts so we will all have to deal with that! skip to *** for the new stuff, follow-up to HER

The doorframe rattles when Logan slams it shut.

With a sigh, he shrugs off his jacket. He makes a half-hearted attempt at hanging it on one of the hooks off to the right before giving up and allowing it to slump onto the floor. His feet drag, toes catching clumsily against the transitional swell between his living room’s wood paneling and the kitchenette’s linoleum.

The world is already tolerably fuzzy as he slams open the cabinet door. Logan closes his eyes against the sound of one of his neighbors showering and crickets chirping in the distance. He pulls out a half-empty bottle of whiskey, pops out the cork, and tilts his head back to take a few slow glugs. The alcohol slides down his throat, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The thunk of glass against the lacquered countertop echoes.

Today had not been a good day. The last few days hadn’t been good, really — although Logan’s not sure he’s ever had a good day. But the last few had been worse than usual. The kind of days that suck you dry, leave you nothing but a husk of a man at the end of ‘em. Logan glancces down at the bottle in his hand, wondering if he should down the whole thing now.

He squints. It looks significantly more full than he remembers.

It isn’t until the bathroom door swings open to release a cavalcade of barefoot footfalls and a cloud of hot steam, that Logan realizes it hadn’t been one of his neighbors showering.

“Logan Wolverine,” Wade Wilson announces, leveling an accusatory loofah brush towards him, “it’s time to resume our eternal battle.”

Drunk, Logan stares. The cloud of steam clears to reveal an expanse of marred skin interrupted only by the bright red kevlar of the Deadpool mask. A long beat passes wherein Logan stares directly at Wade’s bare cock dangling goofily between his legs before he jerks his head to the side.

“God damn, man, put some clothes on!” Logan turns, back to Wade. “And what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Not like it’s anything you haven’t seen before, lover.” The only warning Logan gets before a hot, wet body is pressed against his back is the damp slap of wet feet on linoleum. By reflex, he turns and shoves three ragged claws directly into Wade’s stomach. “Oh, should’ve expected that. Gonna take a second to get over that one.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Logan stares down at him, spread-eagled in the kitchenette with thin streams of blood puddling on the floor. “You are wet and naked. Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Well,” Wade responds. Completely shameless, he doesn’t even make an attempt to cover himself. Logan grinds his teeth and turns his back once again. “Considering that you just stabbed me. No! And besides, I have a job for you. Since you’re obviously done with your last one.”

Logan tips back the bottle of whiskey into his mouth. A few drops escape from the corner of his lips, which he doesn’t bother to wipe away. “What?”

“It’s something silly. A B-plot. Hijinks, if you will. The type suitable for some sort of one-shot. Maybe a two-shot if we get frisky.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” Logan stares out the window above the sink. The foggy, smudged surface prevents him from seeing much other than the glaring approach of oncoming cars down the highway.

“I’m talking about an adventure! Work for the good of the universe! The two amigos at it again to save the world — or at least a very specific suburb of Milwaukee — “

“Yeah, I don’t actually do that anymore.” He takes another swig. Bottle’s halfway empty.

“Okay. Well, if I am being honest, I did accept a payment for this one. About a milli, but if you play nice, I would be willing to split it between the two of us.”

Another drink. A car roars down the highway, lights blazing. A fly buzzes above, imprisoned against the glare of the LEDs.

“No.”

“Okay, fine.” Wade’s exasperated tone shatters the melancholy mood. Logan wishes he would give up and leave already. Wishful thinking, he supposes. Not even educated. “It was two milli.”

“No.”

Logan slides the whiskey back into the cabinet. Wade mutters something he doesn’t bother to listen to. Rather, Logan steps over Wade’s naked, wet, healing body, opens the fridge, and pulls out a mostly-intact six pack. With a sigh, he walks into the living room, collapses onto the couch, and turns of the TV.

“Fine!” Wade shouts from the floor of the kitchenette. “It was five milli, but if you’re actually going to take half of that, I expect a blowjob for my finder’s fee, mister!”

Logan doesn’t respond. Nothing good on at 3 AM. He should be asleep. No way he’s going to do so with Wade Wilson loose in his place. He’s too tired, drunk, and miserable to do anything meaningful about him right now. He pops open one of the beers. On screen, a lion eviscerates a zebra while the narrator drones calmly on.

Damp footfalls on carpet. Wade stands just inside of Logan’s line of sight. He isn’t bleeding any more. “Oh no, I’m bleeding all over your carpet! Whatever are you going to do!”

Logan ignores him. The lion is rooting through the zebra’s guts now.

“Come on, I know you can’t be that busy. You’ve been gone for four whole days.”

Logan’s brow furrows. His head snaps in Wade’s direction. “You’ve been in my house for four days.”

“This, Logan, is an apartment. And yeah, where do you think all those dirty dishes came from?” Wade gestures vaguely towards the kitchen. Logan hadn’t even noticed. “Also, you probably want to change your sheets. And don’t look in your second dresser drawer, please, unless you’re like, way more into me than I think.”

“Okay.” Logan sets down his beer, looking Wade dead in the eye. Very intentionally, he does not glance down to where Wade’s cock is still flopping pathetically about between his legs. “I’m being serious. I need you to get out now.”

“Ooh, it’s serious time, alright.” He bends his knees, turns to the side, and arches his back so his ass sticks out. “And what happens if I don’t?”

Logan stands up. He can’t fucking deal with this right now. He grabs his coat, stumbling over to the door. He squints against a blast of cold air.

“Come on, Logan.” Wade attempts to dramatically slam the door shut. Logan rips it right back open and steps outside. “I can’t be so repugnant you don’t want to work with me even just a tiny little bit — “

“No, you are,” Logan says, just before slamming the door in Wade’s face.

There are a few blessed moments of silence as Logan walks up the half-set of stairs leading to the parking lot. His shoulders tense when he hears his door creak open again.

“Even though I’m offering you two and a half million? This place is dingy as fuck, the X-men cannot be paying you that much.”

The door slams closed behind Wade. Logan keeps his gaze fixed ahead. He doesn’t speak until he senses Wade right behind him. “Pretty sure the X-Men don’t get paid, bub.”

“What the fuck, good ol’ Chuck — who is definitely alive by the way, don’t you even worry your sweet little heads about it — doesn’t even pay you.” Logan keeps walking forward, desperately hoping that the crunch of gravel beneath his boots will eventually drown Wade out. “That’s inhumane. Even the Avengers get paid. What the hell else is he doing with that seemingly infinite pool of money? Also, what do you mean you’re pretty sure? You are working with the X-Men, aren’t you.”

Logan takes a deep breath. Without a word, he continues walking forward.

Wade gasps. They cross into the street now, beginning to walk down the empty road. Logan’s car isn’t even here. He'd left it at the bar.

“Oh my god, you’re not. What the hell have you been doing for the last year then, man?”

“Didn’t I very specifically say that we would not be seeing each other around?”

“Yes, but then you waddled that cute little ass directly into my apartment, and held my dog, and made friends with my friends and your not-daughter, all strongly implying to the audience that we were going to live happily ever after in homoerotic bliss!” 

The sound of skin smacking against skin echoes from behind Logan. Perhaps Wade smacking himself in the face. “I thought you were the reason they rejected me again, good ‘ol Logan wants nothing to do with Wade anymore for completely inscrutable reasons, but — “

Logan’s brow furrows. “They rejected you — ?”

The sentence dies a swift death to a cocktail of rage and embarrassment as he turns and realizes that Wade is still buck naked.

“ — sunuvabitch, put some damn clothes on!”

The emotionless white pits of the Deadpool mask stare back at Logan. “I will if you come back to your sad wolf boy apartment with me.”

Logan scowls. “No.”

Wade crosses his arms and waggles his hips. “I’m the one wearing the mask here. I have nothing to lose. You live here. And you have neighbors you care about. Apparently.” 

Logan turns his head, gritting his teeth against the feeling of complete mortification. With a grunt, he clips Wade’s shoulder as he passes him on the way back to his apartment.

“There’s my peanut, always happy to see me!”

Logan throws his jacket onto the floor as soon as he re-enters his apartment. Wilson is such a fucking nut-case.

— 

“Are you sure you don’t want to get down nasty style? If it’s just about the carpet, we can lay down a tarp or something. Or we can do it in the bathroom. Always keeps the ugly bumping tidy no matter the bodily fluids involved — I highly recommend it.”

Exhausted, Logan blinks very slowly as he stares at the TV. He sucks down another half a beer before responding. “Don’t you have a girl?”

“If by a girl,” Wade calls out from the bedroom, “you mean my fabulous new therapist Lisa, then yes. She is so dumb. Knows nothing about the horrific depths of the human spirit. Never been tortured, Logan, can you believe that? Not even once. She’s incredible. She has me using this new morality app — “

Logan shakes his head, rubbing at his eyes. “I mean a girlfriend, wife situation.”

“Not anymore!”

Wade arrives in Logan’s field of vision wearing a pair of jeans which come to an abrupt end at his mid-shin. A white t-shirt is tucked into Wade’s belt, dangling pouches failing to disguise how comically large the waistband is on him. Strips of discolored skin are visible on his arms and legs. He’s still wearing the mask. He makes jazz hands.

“You look stupid.”

“You, too!” Wade points an accusatory finger at Logan. “Oh, who am I kidding? You pull it off. Why was I cursed with this glorious, mutilated twink body?”

With a huff, Wade collapses onto the couch. He places a hand on Logan’s thigh, which Logan quickly removes.

“Sorry about your girl.” Wade’s hand continues to sit placidly on the couch. Logan takes another swig of his beer.

“It’s fine.”

On screen, a family of gerbils scurry out of their burrow in the middle of a flood. The narrator dully reports that, in these conditions, the little beasts make easy prey for opportunistic predators.

“Actually, it’s not fine. You know, the really fucked-up thing is that — according to her, at least — it wasn’t the loser-era stuff, or the putting her in constant danger, or the severe mental health problems. Sometimes, things just don’t work out.” Wade turns away from Logan and stares into the middle distance. “And that, dear, readers, is a weak plotline, but it’s also real life. We all know you just want to see his one-eyed snake disappear into my wet cave and you’ll take any excuse you can get. Fuck!”

Wade throws his head onto the back of the couch.

“It may also just have been the severe mental health problems,” he admits. “She was really nice. Probably wouldn’t have said that if it were true.”

Logan drink again. One of the gerbils gets snapped up by a hawk in slow motion. “She would have,” he says. “She would’ve just said it nice.”

Wade sighs. “Yeah.”

Wordlessly, Logan hands him a beer.

“You know, I’m not supposed to drink on my medication. But this is probably enough of a special occasion.” Logan’s not sure whether it’s a joke. He’d never known Wade — any iteration — to be particularly stable. In fairness, Logan has never been either.

When Wade takes the bottle, Logan pops the top off with one partially extended claw. Wade scoffs and takes a sad, quiet drink. Out of juice. Silence encroaches.

“So,” Logan starts. “You’re back on your merc shit, huh?”

“Kinda.” Wade slouches into the crevices of the couch. For a moment, he looks pathetically small. “I’m trying to incorporate my burgeoning moral compass into my work now. Man’s gotta eat.”

“Five million dollars ain’t grocery money.”

When Wade sits up, it’s like a switch flips on in his brain. “In this economy? You’d be lucky to get a loaf of bread for 50K!”

Logan ignores him. He finishes off his beer, then sets the empty bottle on the coffee table.

“So does this mean you’re gonna help me? Or fuck me? I was hoping for both but at this point I’d take either.” He leans closer, staring out at Logan from behind his mask.

Logan sighs. “I said I’m not doing that shit.”

“Logan.” Wade’s voice is deadly serious. “My bowels are clear. But if you’re really that worried about it, I can give myself an enema first.”

Logan reaches over and takes the beer back. Wade doesn’t flinch.

“Hey, come on. You literally save the multiverse, heroically switch timelines, sidestep the life-ruining consequences of your actions. You get to live in a world where you’re a hero, and not one where all of your friends are dead. That is literally once-in-thousands-of-lifetimes kind of luck. And you’re gonna use that ridiculous stroke of luck to sit on the couch all day?”

Shouldn’t be surprising. Logan was already familiar with Wade’s personal definition of heroism. With jaw tight, Logan keeps his gaze fixed forward. His grip tightens around Wade’s beer. Fingers twitching, he downs a third of it.

“I’m honestly shocked the TVA didn’t make you go home off-screen, just for continuity’s sake. I guess they want you to be in more — “

“In case you didn’t catch that,” Logan says, glaring at Wade out of the corner of his eye, “that was an invitation to leave.”

“But you did give me the beer. Invitation extended. And I bet if I ignore your grumpy mug and stay a little bit longer, I can get you to do it again!”

Logan doesn’t respond. He’s lost track of how much he’s had to drink. The whiskey from before is just now starting to hit him, thoughts growing sluggish, warmth crawling through his limbs. He downs the rest of Wade’s beer and cracks open another.

“For real, man.” Wade leans closer, squinting. “Why are you not chilling with the X-Men. They’re all alive here. Or, like, mostly. Probably.” His head turns, glancing around the room chaotically. “Those timelines were always really hard to follow. And our whole thing just didn’t make any sense at all, so it’s probably way easier to just show up and find out who’s alive, but like, it’s definitely most of them. I saw Kurt last week. Blue. Tail. All that fun stuff. You two are supposed to be buds.”

A black hole opens up in the pit of Logan’s stomach.

“You like reality TV, right? That seems like your kind of trash.” Logan flips through the channels. The warmth that radiates off of Wade as he leans in closer is probably Logan’s imagination.

“Logan.” Wade whispers. “Answer the question.”

Teeth grit, Logan hisses, “Or else what?”

“Or else.” Logan rolls his eyes when he feels the cool barrel of a gun press against his temple. He continues flipping through the channels. “We will have to continue our eternal — oh, Love Island, I love this shit.” Logan resists the urge to roll his eyes. “You know, the US version is so bland in comparison to the UK one — wait a second, you’re trying to distract me!”

With a sigh, Logan leans his head back on the couch. His thoughts are becoming delightfully fuzzy, now. He plays the game. “You ever get that ADHD testing done?”

Wade narrows his eyes. “No.”

If Wade had come here to commiserate — to play games — Logan can be fine with that. A few hours ago he’d lifted his cheek off of the bar with red in his mind’s eye. Her hair, her fire, her blood. The last few months had been lonely.

An unnatural silence fills the room when Logan closes his eyes. Wade moves, silent and fast. Thighs bracketing Logan’s, erratically-textured palms cradling his cheeks. Chest tight like he’d been strangled. Logan’s knuckles are pressed to Wade’s ribs, all reflex.

“Get off me.” The vision of his blades slicing through Wade’s soft stomach is clear in his mind’s eye.

“Logan.” Wade’s fingers on his cheek are patronizing. “My bro. My good boy. My homie. My personal hero. That would ruin your couch.”

Wade’s body going slack in Logan’s arms. Manic twinkles of laughter in his ear. Spilled blood sucked up by denim and upholstery. Logan grits his teeth. Silence ticks on.

“Which you care about, because you’re broke, because you’re not fucking around with Chuck — who definitely pays people, by the way.” Wade’s voice is loud and annoying. “So come help me, Obi Wan. You’re my only hope.”

The sharp snikt of Logan’s claws slicing through his own skin occurs not half a second after Wade rolls off of him.

“For the last fucking time,” Logan growls. He can feel his own throat rumble, his self-control slipping as the alcohol suffuses his cells. “No.”

Wade crouches in the middle of Logan’s living room, ready to pounce. The upturned corners of his lips are visible even beneath the mask. “It’s not even a hit job. More of a rescue, really. And it’s delightfully silly. And afterwards we can do a little horizontal — “

Logan scowls. “Stop.”

His muscles are heavy, drawing him further back into the couch. He shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Wilson is a clown, but he’s not incompetent. Logan’s heart races against an impending sense of danger.

All at once, Wade collapses onto his ass. He pulls out his phone, gaze fixed on the screen. Logan couldn’t relax if he wanted to.

“Okay, I hear that you’re setting a boundary. Lisa’s been telling me a lot about those. So I’m willing to stop talking about sex. If you come with me.”

“And yet you apparently didn’t hear me when I told you to leave.”

Logan leans forward. Moonlight stretches down the length of his claws in reflection.

“Come on, Logan, we all know you weren’t being serious then.” Wade flaps his wrist dismissively. He’d probably still be cracking jokes if Logan were to snap it. “Which is definitely how it works. And you can’t say otherwise because you don’t even go to therapy.”

Logan says nothing. Wade stares at him, as if waiting for a response.

“If you did, your therapist would definitely tell you that you should come with me. And also that you should probably go hit up your good ol’ bubs the — “

“No.”

Logan stands. His patience is running out. He’s wobbly, unsteady. Wade’s fast. A bloodthirsty cacophony clamors in the back of his mind. Two kicks would leave Wade’s brains splattered across a broken television screen, a left hook could snap his neck on the edge of the coffee table, triplet blades rending flesh from his heart down to his gut leaving him flopping like a fish out of water on the carpet — 

“Fine.” Wade sighs. He stares down at his phone. Logan itches for violence. “I didn’t want to resort to this, but you leave me no choice.”

The sound of dice rolling fills the apartment. Wade gasps, turning his phone screen to display a mischievous-looking emoji with an angel halo. A beat passes with Logan’s head tilted in utter confusion.

“Chaotic heroic. I love this one. Always so weird.”

Swiftly, he pops open the velcro of one of his pouches. Logan’s eyes go wide as he pulls out a grenade.

“Wade,” Logan says. His voice is tense, pulse thundering in his ears. Wade’s attitude had felt strange — stranger — but he hadn’t anticipated this. “Put that down. This is an apartment building. There are innocent people here.”

With a giggle, Wade stands. He loops one finger through the pull ring, swinging it casually around his finger. “Oh, I know.”

Logan lunges at him. Wade sidesteps easily, laughing as Logan sprawls inelegantly across the floor. His limbs are heavy, the air baring down on him as he pushes himself up.

“I don’t know what kinda psycho fuckin’ meltdown you’re having because your girl dumped you, Wilson, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you — “

A hand held over his heart. “Wow. Last-named. The hurt. How would you feel if I called you — wait, what is your last name?”

“I’m not gonna let you kill a bunch of people for no goddamn reason.”

A swipe, dodged. Wade’s pressed flat against his front door. Logan throws his fist, embedding his claws in the wood instead of Wade’s skull. He screams as he yanks them out.

“Wow, Logan. It’s only been six months and you’ve gotten so slow! Or is it the alcohol?”

One last shot. Logan goes for his gut, but Wade’s too fast. He’s across the room before Logan’s halfway through the swing.

There’s no fanfare when he decided to stop playing games.

“Relax,” he calls from across the room. Logan watches in horror as he pulls the pin, tossing the grenade live across the living room. “This’ll only take a second.”

***

“Wakey-wakey, peanut.”

A finger taps his nose. Logan’s head throbs. His eyelids scrape like sandpaper. The sun is rising at the end of a long, thin stretch of highway.

Logan surges, movement stopped by the seatbelt.

Wade clicks his tongue in the driver’s seat. “I told you I didn’t wanna do this, Logan.”

“Sunuvabitch,” Logan mutters. His hands are bolted behind his back, ankles tied together. A thick chain secures the thick cuffs above his knees to a metal rod beneath the seat. “What the fuck — “

“Now, Logan.” Wade’s voice is chastizing, like he’s talking to a child. Logan seethes. “Before you extend those pretty little claws of yours — “

The upholstery of the passenger’s seat tears. Logan struggles only to find he doesn’t have enough leverage to slice through the metal holding the seat together. The seatbelt stretching across his chest locks his back flat against the back of the seat.

“That was literally what I just — “ Wade groans, smacking himself in he forehead. “This is why I can’t have nice things. You know I got this car from Spiderman, tricked the whole thing out, gave it a roof, and you just come in here with your little honey badger shit and just — “

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Logan screams.

“Calm down,” Wade says. “You’d think a little nap would make you less cranky. And before you ask, everyone is fine. It was just a little gas. I can’t believe you thought I would actually blow up an apartment building for fun.”

“I,” Logan rasps, “am going to fucking kill you.”

“Easier said than done,” Wade chirps. “Believe me, I’ve tried. Also, I’m driving this car on an incredibly busy highway so anything you do to me is likely to result in some random bystanders dying in a fiery car crash.”

Logan turns to look out the window. In the span of a few seconds, Wade blasts pasts one, two, three other cars on the right. 

“How fucking fast are you — “

“Uh…” The car twists into the right lane, then back into the left. “110. Thereabouts.”

Logan grits his teeth. He doesn’t know what else he expected.

“You know I’m just going to kill you whenever I have the chance.”

“And in the meantime, we have the opportunity to get in some quality time together while I convince you that — “

“Kidnapping me is not starting off on a good foot.”

“We weren’t on a good foot in the first place, Logan. And you know whose fault that was?” Logan curses under his breath as the right side wheels of the car lift from the pavement as Wade rounds a curve in the highway. “You. And you know, it didn’t have to be this way. We had a good thing going for awhile, me and you. And you had that wholesome daddy-daughter dynamic going on with X-whatever — “

“Her name is Laura.”

“ — not to say that we don’t also have a daddy-daughter dynamic of a different flavor going on.”

“You’re a disgusting son of a bitch, you know that?” Anger coils in the pit of Logan’s stomach as Wade dodges around another car. The violent honking fades out quickly.

“Very aware, thank you! But you just had to do the same shit you always do — “

“You don’t know shit about me, bub.”

“ — and leave. And being me, I was going to go look for you, but Vanessa, she’s all he has his reasons and he has to go on his own journey to figure out who he is and you need to leave people alone if they want to be left alone — “

“So your girl dumped you again and that’s my problem, somehow?”

“Something like that!” He’s wearing his suit again, leather-gloved fingers strangling the steering wheel. “So the job is outside of Milwaukee, not too far from here actually, really low-level stuff but I tried to take ‘em out last week and it was somewhat of a comical failure.”

The car jerks from side to side as Wade weaves through traffic. The back of Logan’s head throbs with a hangover — from the bottle of whiskey or from whatever Wade had dosed him with, he’s not sure. He holds in a growl and resists the urge to scream. The desire to completely lose control bubbles up in the pit of his stomach. He struggles to come up with a good justification not to.

“And I know what you’re thinking, Logan - wow, can’t believe this guy is skipping right over the emotional trauma of losing his girlfriend for the third or fourth time, depending on how you count it, and he’s totally emotionally dodging all of the important feelings that he’s feeling right now.” 

Logan closes his eyes, breathing in and out through his nose. Wade Wilson is a fucking shitstain of a human being. This isn’t new information to him.

“And you would be totally right — “ The image of Wade in blue, scrambling from rooftop to rooftop flashes across Logan’s mind. Bells jingling, laughter echoing, blood dripping from the sack thrown over his shoulder as he lobs a severed arm directly at Logan’s face. The car lurches as he skids around a little white sedan on the right, barely managing to avoid scraping the barrier on the right that stands between the car and the ditch below. “But that’s not even the point right now, because we have to break into a top-secret bse to stage a rescue mission for our comrade-in-arms — “

“Pull over.”

Logan’s head is pounding. Wade finally shuts up. The stench of his sweat is tangy in Logan’s nostrils.

“What?”

“Pull the fucking car over and untie me. I’ll help you.”

The seatbelt cuts into Logan’s chest when Wade slams on the breaks.

It’s a little scenic overlook. A car races past them, honking. Wade turns to stare at him for an unsettlingly silent moment.

“Damn, okay.”

The door slams behind him. He swings his hips exaggeratedly as he rounds the hood. Logan is overcome with the urge to rip out his throat. 

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth,” Wade starts as he opens the passenger-side door, “but why, exactly, would you agree to help me?”

Logan clenches his jaw. Wade unties his ankles first, then unlocks the cuffs around his thighs before he glances up expectantly. Logan tries to mask the seething violence raging just underneath his skin. Given the way that Wade winks flirtatiously at him, he suspects that he’s failed.

“I’m already here, aren’t I?” Logan speaks through gritted teeth.

Wade shrugs. He unbuckles Logan’s seatbelt. “Fair enou—”

Logan’s shoulder smacks into Wade’s nose with as much force as he can muster. Wade’s body sprawls back. His head thunks loudly against first the metal barrier, then the asphalt. The tip of Logan’s boot seeks out Wade’s windpipe and bears down just hard enough to cut off his air. Wade’s eyelids flutter.

“Oh, how I hate to lose,” Wade mutters. Logan crouches to pick up the key from the ground, quickly unlocking his own wrists. “But how I love to lose.”

“Don’t make any goddamn sense, bub.” He rolls Wade over with the toe of his boot, forehead scraping against the barrier once again. Wade is dazed, groaning. Logan scoffs when he feels Wade lift his own arms for Logan to lock them behind his back.

Logan doesn’t have time for this. Or at least not the damn energy. He fully intends to get back in the driver’s seat, book it back to his dingy little apartment just long enough to grab the few important items he has. Losing the damn car should really be the least of Wade’s problems.

But when Logan stares down at him, face-down in the gravel, moaning just a little too loudly as he writhes around on the ground — he feels bad. There have been more times than Logan can count that he’s looked far more pathetic than Wade has right now. Tried to pull himself up by his bootstraps every time, completely failed more often than not.

Logan sighs. He flips Wade back over, hauls him up by the nape of his suit, and tosses him into the passenger’s seat.

He’s about to slam the door shut when he thinks to unbuckle Wade’s belt. He tosses it — pouches, holsters, guns and all — into the back seat.

“Wow, daddy,” Wade mutters. “I didn’t know you were into bondage.”

Logan scowls at him. “Don’t make me regret not leavin’ you on the side of the road, Wilson.”

“Daddy, if you wanted to play rough, all you had to do was — “

Logan slams the door in his face.

“Ask.” Wade finishes his sentence as soon as Logan re-enters on the driver’s side.

“Tired of watchin’ you drive like a fuckin’ maniac.” Logan pulls the seat up, then adjusts the mirrors. Wade keeps his mouth shut about the difference in height — smart. “Gonna fucking kill someone.”

“Fair, but you didn’t need to tie me up. We should at least pull up Google Maps so we know where we’re going — “ 

Logan pulls back onto the highway as soon as he sees a break in traffic, then turns to shoot Wade an incredulous look.

“I’m no goin’ to help you. I’m goin’ home.” He pulls into a parking lot on the left and hangs a right. The dashboard flashes 6:33 AM at him. The bags under his eyes tug at his eyelids. He wishes he was drunk.

“Wow,” Wade says. “I cannot believe the X-Man, Wolverine, is a liar.”

“I can’t believe that known asshole, Deadpool, would kidnap a guy — oh, wait. I can believe that.”

Wade ignores him. “I come all the way out to bumfuck nowhere to magnanimously kidnap you to get you out of your sad wolf boy depressive slump, just as you once did for me — well, I also kidnapped you then, didn’t I?” Logan rubs at his face, trying to tune Wade out. He accelerates up to the speed limit. “And that totally got me out of a depressive slump. Ultimate message: kidnapping works.”

For a beat, Wade pauses as if waiting for a response. Logan ignores him.

“And at the end of the day, after everything I’ve done for you, you repay me by going directly back to where you came from?”

“Yes.”

Wade leans forward. Probably trying to break out of those handcuffs — ain’t subtle. Logan hadn’t bothered to actually restrain him in any meaningful way. As annoying and insistent as Wade is, Logan can’t imagine he has much steam left for this ridiculous charade. 

“You won’t even come with me to help me on an actually magnanimous quest?”

“No.”

The silence stretches out. Wade sighs.

“Come on, man. You gotta be real with me for a second. What gives? We had a good thing going for a couple of months. Little team-up here, over at my place for dinner every once in a while, making friends with my friends. And I know the drinking was getting pretty bad — which like, if I’m saying that, you know that’s real because I have literally a full pound of cocaine stashed away in my apartment — “

He doesn’t. Logan would’ve been able to smell it.

“And you had this whole ridiculous self-hating thing about how you’re not allowed to just cheat and be an X-man in this universe. But things were good. I thought that we were building something good together. And we were going to get past it.”

Logan feels the steering wheel creak under the force of his grip.

“Oh, buddy. There it is. Come on, hit me, baby. Let is all out.”

“You wanna know why I left, Wade?” Logan snaps.

“Yes. Very clearly. That’s why I asked.”

“Because wrecking your entire world, resulting in the deaths of thousands of people, is not the kind of shit you get to just brush off and pretend didn’t happen so you can go play house with alternate versions of the people that you got fucking killed.”

He’s panting. For a moment, Logan’s eyes go unfocused. Particles of his own spit have splattered across the windshield.

“Oh, boo-hoo. So Wolvie has to punish himself for being the big evil bad guy, as if saving literally every life in the multiverse didn’t absolve him.” 

There’s a note of cruelty in his tone that makes Logan want to throw him out the window.

“Doing something good doesn’t make the bad shit you’ve done in the past okay.”

“Mm, pretty sure it does, actually.” 

There’s sarcasm dripping from Wade’s tone. Mean, self-absorbed. Logan aches for Kurt — would’ve told him that sin is in the nature of being human, that he’d already more than proven himself worthy of his continued existence, then make a joke that was actually funny.

Unfortunately, that version of Kurt is long dead.

“You see all these cars around us?” Wade gestures at the vehicles zipping by. “I’m the reason they’re all alive. They all owe me. Which means it doesn’t matter if I kill that guy, or those people, or that old lady, or — “

“You’re worse than the last time I saw you.”

There was a spark in that little rant that reminds logan of Wade — the other one. He had still been alive when this Wade had kidnapped him, at least as far as Logan is aware. Guys like the two of them are hard to kill. The way Logan had heard it, he’d gotten cut to pieces a few months after shit started to really hit the fan. Took him five or six years to come back. Logan had always figured it was the pain that had sent him off the deep end. Now Logan wonders if it was the realization of just how alone he was.

“Yeah,” Wade agrees. “I wonder if that has something to do with the fact that my people keep leaving me.”

Logan breathes in. He waits for Wade to continue, for sarcastic comments. Nothing comes.

“You know this doesn’t have anything to do with you, right?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s not you, it’s me. Oldest trick in the book.”

Logan can’t hide his incredulous reaction. “We’re not dating. You know that, right?”

Wade squints. “Tell that to the Honda Odyssey. And Madonna. And my asshole.”

It occurs to Logan that crashing the car might not be an entirely undesirable experience.

“You have a girlfriend.”

“Had. Past-tense. She left, too.”

“You know you’re just gonna get right back together after you’ve gotten over whatever kind of breakdown this is, right? And your gal’s a pretty straight shooter. Just figure out whatever it is that she wants you to figure out — “

“Not this time. All-in-all, pretty good confirmation that I am actually worth dogshit despite my magnanimous multiverse-saving tendencies. And I’m not having a breakdown.”

Logan wonders if this is what it’s like talking to him.

“You understand that these two situations we’re talking about have literally nothing in common.” Wade kicks his feet. It feels like talking to a child.

“I don’t know, feels just about a gut-stabby from my perspective.”

“We are not dating. We’re — “ Logan hesitates over the word friend. “We don’t have a thing.”

“Oh, how the mind loves to rewrite history. We definitely have a thing, peanut. Or at least we did.”

Logan scoffs. At the end of his rope, he snaps, “You are such a fuckin’ narcissist.”

“Acknowledging that we had a good thing going which was then ruined by you leaving has nothing to do with my narcissism.” He thinks he’s so fuckin’ funny.

“No, thinking that me leaving is some reflection on you is narcissistic.”

Wade leans in over the center console, eyes narrowed. “‘Bout to throw you a curveball, peanut: thinking that I wouldn’t see you leaving as a reflection on my own self-worth is narcissistic. We are just the same, you and I. Two bloodthirsty little peas in a pod — “

Logan pushes Wade away, palm spanning most of the area of his face. “You think this is how you’re going to get me to help you out? Being an annoying fuckin’ asshole?”

“No.” Logan can hear the smirk in his voice. “I think that being an annoying asshole is how I’m going to get you to fuck me. Hold on.”

To Logan’s complete and utter exhaustion, Wade takes his hands out from behind his back. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, pulling up that stupid fucking app again. He glances up at Logan, muttering, “Pretend you’re not seeing this, it made me pop a l’il half-chub when you tied me up. That shit was hot.”

The words, you know there’s a reason people keep leaving you, right? sit heavy on Logan’s tongue. He wants to punch Wade in the side of the head, drag him out of the car, slice and hack and cut until he finally shuts the fuck up. Shame immediately follows the thought. A hundred sets of lips curl around the word bloodthirsty in his mind’s eye.

Wade taps away at his phone, swearing. Logan watches him re-roll multiple times. He had really tried to tear Wade down in the Honda whatever. Wade had pissed him off, and Logan wanted to tear him down. Force him to end whatever stupid little delusion he had in his head about saving the world. 

Wade hadn’t klet him. A fucked-up kind of stubborn that Logan can’t help but admire when he thinks about it. Logan wishes he had that same level of dedication.

“Okay, fuck yes. True neutral. Nice.”

Logan sighs. Can’t believe he’s developing a soft spot for Wade Wilson, of all people.

That soft spot melts away as soon as Wade sprawls across the front seat to set his head in Logan’s lap.

His leg jerks. Wade’s head bounces but remains firmly on Logan’s thigh. “What the fuck are you doin’, you want us to get in an accident?”

“No, I rolled true neutral. So obviously, I’m introducing you to the idea that I could give you road head. But I’m not pushing you strongly either way.”

Logan grits his teeth.

With barely-contained force, he shoves Wade’s head off of his lap and pulls the car off to the side of the road. Pines as far as the eye can see. He pulls the keys out of the ignition. 

“Get outta the car.”

Wade pouts. “But daddy, I can’t. You tied me up.”

Logan watches as he tries to slide the handcuffs back onto himself. He grabs Wade by the front of his costume and spits in his face.

“You,” Logan hisses, “are bein’ fuckin’ ridiculous. Over here actin’ like this is a fuckin’ porno every chance you get cause you think that’s gonna make you feel better about your girl fuckin’ leaving. I am not your personal fuckin’ attention fountain, or your daddy, or whatever the fuck you think this is. Get out of the car.”

He throws Wade into the passenger’s side door.

Logan shoves the keys into his pockets as he walks away. He doesn’t look back. A few moments later, he hears the crunch of Wade’s boots against the pine needles. Without a word, he follows Logan.

“Oh,” Wade pipes up after they’ve walked a few hundred feet in silence. “This is like a game. We’re going to roleplay Twilight: New Moon? You know, in this universe there’s this weird tangential link between 9/11 and — “

“Shut up.”

Wade does. Logan takes a deep breath before he turns around.

There had been a lot of people in Logan’s life that he’d wanted to help only to completely and utterly fail. He remembers how proud he’d felt when he’d first heard Wade mention his ten people, that’s it. Logan had mattered. He had changed something for the better.

Wade stands in front of him, this ball of self-destruction, compulsively pushing and pulling the people around him with his stupid jokes, and Logan can’t help but feel as if he’s failed yet again.

“If I need to beat the fucking horny out of you before you can have a conversation like an adult, fine.”

Wade tilts his head. “Who’s saying I won’t beat the horny out of you first?”

“I’m not fuckin’ horny, Wade.”

The tension escalates. Logan swallows.

“That half-chub I sniffed earlier begs to differ.” Logan says nothing, jaw clenched. “How about this: winner gets to do whatever the fuck they want to the loser.”

Logan snorts. “Okay, bub.”

Wade taps his finger on his chin. He arches his back, teasing. “Just no teeth when I shove my cock in your mouth, okay? That’s no way to win a fight.”

He wags a chastising finger at Logan. It looks ridiculous. Logan desperately wishes he wasn’t into it. 

“Don’t feel like that really even needed to be said.” Logan’s eyes flicker down to Wade’s belt. No idea when he had retrieved it from the back seat. “No guns.”

Wade throws his hands up dramatically. “What the fuck, come on!”

“This ain’t bumfuck nowhere. Unless you want the fuckin’ cops called, no guns.” Logan smirks. “As if they’re gonna do you any goddamn good.”

“Fine.” Wade squints. He pulls each gun out of its holster, releases the magazines onto the ground with a dull little thud, and tosses them off to the side. “No guns.”

Logan’s claws extend with a satisfying snikt.

“And my mask doesn’t come off.”

Quietly, Logan scoffs. “Whatever.”

[callyris]

well i made a promise to post here the stuff im too nervous to post on main so.

a list of media fates that, while horrible, are also kind of mutuals do this to me:

- tulip 15. or just darwin in general but especially tulip 15

- smile for me Big Event

- appointment with dr birdbrain

- ^^^ extrapolate

- big glass of fuel

- false prophet

- oots soul splice

- oots greg incident

- actually just. in general meeting a vampire

- cabinet man (doing the same thing)

- soft fuzzy man (meeting him)

- isekai'd to inscryption like that one kaycee comic

- sburb

- sburb (glitch faq style) (read: significantly worse)

- house of leaves (going there. i simply would fall in love with the house)

- rat god helps me achieve my wish

- aperture science test subject

- on a blaseball team (preferably the shoe thieves or The Breath Mints. or the wild wings)

- on a blaseball team, but then vaulted by lootcrates (worse)

- on a blaseball team, but then vaulted by lootcrates, but then playing for the vault legends (worse still)

- on a blaseball team, but then playing for the rising stars, but then vaulted by lootcrates (worse than before but not as bad as NOT being vaulted by lootcrates)

- on a blaseball team, but it's the shelled one's pods (SIGNIFICANTLY WORSE THAN ALL OF THE ABOVE) (but.... idk)

- shelled

- turned into marketable plushie

- fulton recovery'd to mother base

- gnome

- in a situation that involves meeting the fae

- weirdmageddon

- chillin in 17776

- in the EXIT

- nestor-10 (in dr calvin's place)

- herbie from the same series (in dr calvin's place)

- cutie from the same series (on the ship)

- the brain from the same series (on the ship)

- on snaktooth island chowin down on bugsnax (i havent finished the game i have no idea if this is going to age poorly dont spoil me)

- kidnapped by bowser

- kirby's epic yarn (i'm a boss battle)

- helped to win the second season of the show im in by an interloper who can speak in a frequency only i can hear

- stuck in the plane

- stuck in the constant

- stuck in the good place even though i aint great

- stuck in the infinite ikea

- stuck in the habitat

- member of team galactic

- lategame inscryption

- stuck on the be not afraid game show We Have Fun Here

- whatever happened to head of lettuce

[cuppimagines]

A Jolly Odd Christmas- Chapter 001, The Factory

Chapter 1 is now live! Every 5 days I plan to update this fic all the way to Christmas, and so we have the 1st chapter up and running!

As a quick reminder before you continue, this is an nsfw story, there will be some hammy cheesy sex in each chapter, so this is exclusively 18+, with that out of the way, I hope you enjoy!

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

“....Hello? Can I come out?” 

…

Nothing. 

You were just wheeled in…somewhere. And you were just barely allowed to peek out of the present as you were wheeled into this…office of sorts. This started out with you thinking that this was some weird prank or even worse some sorta fucked up Christmas themed kidnapping. But this place is way too big, and there are way too many elves just roaming about working for you to really say that this was all fake. 

You just sat in the box for a few minutes, your legs crossed sitting in semi-darkness. You really hope this is sorted out soon.

Just then, you heard a door opening, and the sound of someone walking past you.

“You can come out now, the door’s closed.”

Very slowly, you peeked out the box, and then fully emerged from it, though sadly…it was a little bit too tall for you to just climb out of. You were in some sorta office, but an office made for people significantly shorter than you. It was very nice and neat, the desks and cabinets made of very ornate well decorated spruce wood with a little miniature christmas tree situated next to a rather out of place computer. Mr. Cedar was there as well, holding a rather tall coffee cup, sitting at his desk.

“So…we need to figure out how to sort…all this out,” he said, looking at you. “First off, tell me your name, human.”

“U-uh…my name is y/n…” you answered.

“Alright then…let’s see…” Mr. Cedar turned his computer on and went to work looking for you. He furrowed his brow, and then looked up at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Hm…you’re quite the scandalous one aren’t you?”

“Wh, what do you mean by that…?” you asked.

“Oh with your wishlist, more and more adults have been wanting these sorts of devices…” Your cheeks felt hot when he mentioned that.

“I-I didn’t even write a wish list!” you tried to reach up over the box to look at him. “How do you even know what I want?!”

“It’s pretty much a guessing game, the same way we monitor the nice and naughty list for children, for anybody older we simply monitor not only their behavior but their desires for the year. But…this is odd. Because looking up your name also brought me to someone who wanted you, specifically. As in they wrote a wish list requesting you.”

“Can you tell me who…?” you asked nervously. “I don’t wanna be delivered in the hands of some weirdo or stalker.”

“Alright then…” Cedar went to read the wishlist. “It says here…’I miss y/n so fucking much, I shouldn’t have left them please oh please I just want you back I’m so sorry.’ Hm, sounds drunk here.”

“Oh…oh is that my ex…?” you sighed, watching as Cedar turned the screen around so you could look. Yep. Yep it was your ex. 

“I don’t know how, but somehow the wishlist registered this as a legitimate request, and since we can’t just clone you, something in the machine might’ve gotten you here, that will need checking…”

“But why the hell would he even request me?” you asked. “HE broke up with ME.”

“I don’t know, it’s your relationship,” Cedar sighed. “But, I think it’s best we investigate this error, and see where we can house you until Christmas Eve.” That part shocked you a little bit, and you tried even harder to climb out of the box. 

“Until Christmas Eve???” you asked, finally hoisting yourself up, before the box began to tilt and you started to fall over. Just before you did, Mr. Cedar seemed to have gotten up just in the knick of time and caught you. You looked up at him in surprise. For someone so small, he seemed to have a bit of strength for his size. And his grip seemed strong too.

“Wh-why can’t you send me back now?”

“Well…unless we figure out how you were sent here, there is only one way back to earth, and that is when Mr. Saint Nicholas himself rides out to deliver gifts. That gate takes a lotta energy to open and close, and to just open it for one person to walk through…and then open again for the big day, we might have another blackout like the one back in 1972.”

“Gate…Earth…I’m not even on earth…?” you looked a bit light headed, and Mr. Cedar frantically pulled you out the box once he took notice.

“Good heavens good heavens…!” Cedar cringed. “Yes yes I know! I know this is a lot to take in but trust me this is out of my goddamn hands. If I had a hand in this I’d just kick you back out from where you came. But these are rules, and right now things are extremely hectic, this is the busiest time of the year for me so if you can…” He clasped his hands together, looking at you with a bit of desperation.

“...PLEASE just keep calm? I will get one of the managers on it to help you, and you will be back home as soon as I can possibly make it.” That…did not really comfort you at all. At most you’d be missing for 3 weeks. You knew family and friends would be looking for you. However…you saw the way Mr. Cedar looked. You knew that look. Tired, overworked, stressed out due to a large project where the end couldn’t be any sooner. 

“Uh…your name is Mr. Cedar, yes?” you asked. “Can I ask, are you uh…okay…?”

“Well…well…” Mr Cedar slumped back down in his chair, holding his head in his hands. “500 years of this and I still can’t cope with stress…” 

“What is your job here exactly…?”

“Well…I’m in charge of looking over the entirety of the workshop here. Every single gift is made here, gets sorted, and then gets packaged to be sent off on Christmas. There is a board of managers below me, 7 of them to be exact, but as the oldest I am the head here and take the most responsibility.”

“I might be stepping out of line by saying this…” you sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “But with something of this scale, don’t you feel like you should either get more managers or pawn off more work to more folks?” Cedar looked up, and he looked extremely angry at just you suggesting that sort of thing.

“How…dare you undermine the work I have done?” he stood up out his desk, slowly approaching you. Someone this short you wouldn’t be so intimidated by, but his presence…it was something unique. 

“I have been a VERY important worker under Mr. Nicholas since before the PRINTING PRESS was widely used! I am the ONLY man he can rely on, and if I were not here things would fall to shit! I can’t just give my work to other people who don’t know him the way I do! And for you, an outsider to give your opinion on it…!” he was now mere inches from your face. You could feel him breathing heavily from anger and frustration, and you practically saw a vein about to burst. However, his eyes for a brief second wandered downwards, specifically right down into your pajamas. They were buttoned up, but loose, and the shirt at any angle could allow someone to stare right down your chest. Cedar noticed, and immediately he backed away, specifically turning his back to you and adjusting his glasses. You tilted your head a bit. Something seemed to have changed his tune, but you weren’t exactly sure what.

“Er…since this is an emergency, and has some level of severity, I suppose I can relocate some of my work…” he said, sounding a lot less angry, and almost nervous and flustered. “It’s best that the less people know about your presence the better. After all, The folks here aren’t exactly all sugar plums and spiced ham. If you’re familiar with some…folklore, you know that there are those out there who love the taste of human…”

“Uh…well…I kinda am…aren’t those just fairytales?”

“My dear, you are sitting in the main hub of all that is Christmas cheer and merriment. These people exist. And since Mr. Nicholas has been on guard to protect Earth from incidents involving any sorta child or adult eating…these very same people are hungry for a taste of flesh again.” Mr. Cedar turned his back to you yet again.

“Especially that man…” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that…?” you asked.

“Nothing, nothing. Anyway, I will send a few emails, and so you simply wait here and get comfortable.” Mr. Cedar pointed to a door over to the left of the room.

“I practically live here during the whole of December, commute times eat up important work time after all. That area leads you into my temporary living quarters. You can relax there in the meantime.”

“Hm, convenient,” you said, even if you nearly had to duck to get inside. It seemed simple, almost like a hotel room. There was a bed, a night stand, a closet, and another door to the side, might’ve been a bathroom. But it was all neat and clean.

The second Mr. Cedar closed the door behind you, you went to the bed there and sat, head in your hands, running them roughly through your hair. Oh you were stuck here. Stuck here for three weeks, and the only means to get out is completely out of your hands. Ohhh this was the worst…!

“Stuck here…stuck here for three weeks…” you muttered to yourself. “It…it could be worse I guess…least it’s somewhere…” you gave a very brief peek out the window, and your eyes were wide. Looking out at this window, was the 8th, maybe 9th story of a massive building, looking down at a city filled with lights, snow, and Christmas decorations as far as the eye could see. No, it wasn’t Christmas decorations, it was Christmas architecture. The concrete was red and white striped, elves, deer, and even a polar bear or two were just casually walking the streets. A train was leaving as the train tracks were nearby, and it seemed to be heading to a station not far from here. Most importantly, in the distance however, atop a hill you could see a massive mansion lit up by lights aplenty, and guarded by a massive gate. You could’ve put two and two together. A massive town whose entire purpose was being in charge of Christmas? Santa lived there, most definitely. Your eyes sparkled, you were amazed and in disbelief at the same time. Wherever you were was wonderful, beautiful even. If in better circumstances, you’d take the time to enjoy this more. 

You stood up to take a quick peek at the other door. Oh, it really was a bathroom. You wanted to use it, you were just in sweaty pajamas after all, but figured it would be better to ask permission first, so you poked your head out of the room.

“Uh…Mr. Cedar…sir? Can I use your bathroom…?”

“Yes yes go ahead,” he answered, not even looking at you. Seemed he was too focused on his work at the moment to even care about your question. So you shrugged and went to take a shower. Like everything else, it was a bit of a small fit, definitely not furniture made for anybody five feet or taller, but you managed. Your pajamas were the only change of clothes you had, so you folded them to the side and turned on the shower. Sitting in the bath, you let the warm water hit you, and your body started to relax a little bit. Things could be better, but sadly there was nothing you could do. Your family, your friends, they might be missing you at this point…and maybe your ex might be missing you too, but it didn’t make sense. Maybe he had a change of heart and wanted to reconcile, but you weren’t even sure if you wanted to get back with him. So being his present…not something you’d want.

After your bath, you toweled yourself dry and leave the bathroom to get dressed after realizing you indulged a bit too much in the hot water, and you felt a little bit too steamy.

You went to get redressed, and might’ve realized your mistake when you heard the door open just as you were about to step into your pants. 

“I finished all the work, things should be ready in-” Mr. Cedar paused. You paused. You were for the most part, naked, and nearly forgot that this wasn’t your private hotel room. Mr. Cedar grew bright red and hot, and he tried to look away so you couldn’t see how flustered he was.

“O-oh yeah you uh…you needed the uh…the shower…” he said. You covered your body with your towel, standing up off the bed. 

“I-I’m so sorry, I’ll go back…in the…” Oh…oh you noticed something…Mr. Cedar had already had a significant tent in his pants, and for his size…oh he seemed a bit too well endowed, and it didn’t help that he wore tight, tight pants. 

“Do you uh…do you need to take care of…that…?” you pointed down at his pants, and Mr. Cedar looked down in pure utter shock.

“Good heavens this hasn’t happened before-! I-I mean it does but not like this and uh…and uh well! You have quite the figure, and to be honest I like meeting uh…folks as vertically gifted as yourself- I MEAN-!” You looked at him incredulously, the poor old man seemed to be too flustered to form a proper sentence, but that was a lil cute to you. You sighed and smiled a bit. 

“We all have needs, pretty sure you saw what I wanna get for Christmas anyway,” you waved your hand a couple times. “I know we, er, just met, but if you need help…”

“Yes-!” he interrupted you quickly, but cleared his throat. “I-I mean…if you are so gracious to help me with my problem, it’ll help me get back to work as soon as possible so uh…could you please lay down on the bed for me…?” You did so, leaning back, though the bed at most seemed only slightly bigger than a twin sized bed. You took your towel off your body, dropping it onto the floor as you simply sat there, completely naked in front of Mr Cedar. 

He looked like he was about to light on fire from the way he was looking at you, and with a bit of a skip in his step, he went over to the bed, undoing his pants as quick as his shaky hands could muster. You tried your best not to look so shocked, but seeing Mr. Cedar pull out a near foot long, thick, throbbing cock, that got your eyes wide and a hand over your mouth.

“Jesus fuck…” you muttered to yourself. And he was already completely erect, just from looking at you naked. Poor fella must be pent up. 

“Your legs…your thighs…oh they’re so long…!” Mr. Cedar grabbed your legs, pressing your thighs together in his grip. “I-I promise I won’t be too rough on you, my dear…!” He was shaking, beads of sweat were trickling down his forehead. There seemed to be a dam inside him that was nearly about to burst from the way he was still trying in vain to keep his composure in check. With your thighs in his grip, he propped one knee up on the bed as you could feel his cock slowly push against your thighs. 

“So…so soft…!” you watched as his cock peeked out from the other side of your thighs, and simply stay there as Mr. Cedar focused on the feeling of your soft, warm thighs on his cock. Slowly he began to thrust, moaning softly while he was pleasuring himself against your thighs. You could feel him pick up the pace, and this time with each thrust you felt his cock rub up against you, brushing up against your clit, spreading your folds apart with just his size alone. Your body grew hot, and you couldn’t help but let out a few soft moans alongside Mr. Cedar’s shaky, breathless moaning and whimpering. 

Mr. Cedar looked like he was about to crack. He had a horny, excited grin on his face, and his forehead was soaked with sweat, not to mention the sheer amount of precum dripping onto your stomach. His grip on your thighs were even tighter, like you’d crumble if he ever let go, and you just might crumble from the way you felt. The friction got you excited, and you could feel yourself grow more and more soaked, which got all on Mr. Cedar’s cock, mixed with his own precum. 

“Oh god…ohhh good fucking god your thighs are ethereal!!” Mr. Cedar moaned loudly, leaning forward and pressing you down on the bed with the small amount of weight he could muster. He moaned and cursed under his breath, keeping your thighs together so tight that the friction might make him sore after this, but he didn’t care. He was just immersed in how you felt, how soft you were, your nice, long legs and soft plush thighs…anymore of this and he was going to…

“A-ah!!” he cried out, body shuddering as he came not only on your stomach. Your face and chest were splattered in his seed, and you were surprised just how much there was, let alone that in his excitement he came so soon. Mr. Cedar let go of you, letting your legs fall, but from the look in his eyes and the way his glasses fogged up, he was far from done with you. 

“R-ride me…please…” he begged. He was still hard, and his cock was still resting on your stomach. You were still getting over just how messy Mr. Cedar had made you already, but with a flustered grin, you got up off the bed to let Mr. Cedar lay down. 

“Are you sure you want me to ride you…?” you asked. “I’m a lot taller than you are…”

“I-if the lovely frame of a human was enough to kill me, I would’ve been dead long ago,” he replied, appearing almost smug after saying that. “Now please my dear, sit on my cock, do not hesitate to be truly, completely rough on me! My body can handle you just fine!” In excitement, he reached into his nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, and you looked a bit confused. He didn’t seem the kinda man to have that given how…busy he was. He saw your expression and scoffed.

“It’s always nice to have a little bit…you know just in case…” he grumbled to himself, pouring it onto his shaft and slowly rubbing it. You decided you wanted to help, grabbing his cock and pumping up and down in very slow, very careful motions. Mr. Cedar let go, hands to his sides watching you stroke his cock. He looked both extremely pleasured, and unsure if all of this was just…fake. Like somehow this was all a very vivid dream he was having, and he was waiting for his alarm clock to blare in his ears. But there was no sound, no sudden waking up to the morning light. Just your soft, gentle hand stroking his cock, and your pretty eyes looking at him for approval. 

“You’re…you’re quite the catch, aren’t you…?” he moaned. “Can’t believe your ex is missing out on this.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and leaned over to kiss Mr. Cedar on the cheek. 

“Hey, don’t mention him, ‘kay?” you asked, lifting your hips up, just hovering over the tip of his cock. It was still pretty big…it seemed a lot for you to handle, and yet it was so, so inviting all the same. Slowly, carefully, you lowered yourself down on Mr. Cedar’s cock, shuddering as you felt yourself being stretched out by just how thick he was. 

“A-ah…oh god…” you moaned softly, grabbing onto Mr. Cedar’s shoulders for support. He guides your hips down on his cock, but his grip was tight, and his whole body seemed to be shaking from excitement and pleasure. 

“You’re…you’re amazing…!” Mr. Cedar moaned. “I haven’t felt anything like this in years~!” In the excitement and pleasure of all this, you could feel him slam you down on his cock, all the way to the base, and from the sudden sensation, you let out a gasp, whimpering with your back arched. Oh he was big…! You leaned forward, moaning and grinding yourself against his cock to get used to his size.

“Oh-oh no, did I hurt you?” Mr. Cedar asked, concerned and stroking your back. “I’m so sorry if I- I…!!” Then you began moving your hips a bit faster, raising them up and slamming them back down on his cock. Mr. Cedar didn’t expect that in the slightest, and once he felt your weight on top of him repeatedly slamming back down on the bed and smothering him…it was incredible. He brought his hands back up to your hips, guiding them and helping you move at a quicker pace. And it wasn’t just good for him, you could feel his passion, his neediness and deep, desperate desire for pleasure. It was enough to nearly make you dizzy from pleasure the rougher and rougher Mr. Cedar got with you. 

The bed began to creak, you tried to hold onto the bed frame for support, but you can see it shaking and warping under both your weights together. Mr. Cedar even looked a bit winded having to support your weight with his much smaller hips, but he was so engulfed in pure pleasure that in this moment, nothing else mattered except making you both feel good. 

“D-don’t be afraid of being too rough…!” Mr. Cedar moaned, grabbing your hips tighter just to force you to ride him faster. “I can take it! I can take all of it…! And I can take your beautiful, beautiful body…!!!” Try as you might, now you were raising yourself off his cock just to repeatedly and roughly slam back down onto him, and Mr. Cedar nearly bounced off the bed completely from your weight on top of him. Your knees felt a little weak, in fact your entire lower half felt like you were gonna go numb after this, but it felt so good, and you were so, so close. Both of you were reaching your climax, cause all of a sudden, Mr. Cedar grabbed you and held you down firm, thrusting his hips up into you with rough, desperate vigor.

“Gods…gods…oh sweet heavens you’re amazing!!” he cried out, grabbing so tight onto your hips and ass that you could feel those bruises forming. Your eyes practically rolled into the back of your head, your body felt hot and the feeling of Mr. Cedar so so deep inside you made you tip over the edge. You clenched around him, moaning out loud as you soaked his cock in your cum, and in turn, you could feel his cock twitching and pulsing inside you as it pumped ounce after ounce of cum deep, deep inside you. It felt so warm, practically hot, and you were a bit dizzy and dazed from all that, falling down onto the bed– and Mr. Cedar, by complete accident. 

“S-sorry!!” you quickly got up off of him, but Mr. Cedar looked almost…unresponsive.

“Uh…Mr. Cedar…?” you nudged him a little bit. Silence. His glasses were fogged up and he looked dazed and glassy eyed. 

“I’m dreaming aren’t I…?” he mumbled. “You’re not real…just a figment of my imagination…” You sighed and pulled yourself away from him, sitting next to him in bed to catch your breath.

“Oh come on now, we both gotta face that this isn’t all a dream,” you said, almost laughing at him. Mr. Cedar sat up, gaining his senses and looking over at you. Naked, sweaty, covered in his cum, and so so beautiful.

“I uh…do you need help cleaning up…?” he asked. “I know you just showered, but it would be rude of me not to care for you…you did after all show me an amazing time.” 

“I would actually prefer a drink…that actually got me a bit winded…” you smiled. Such a short time together, and yet seeing you smile like that made Mr. Cedar’s heart skip a beat. His first time being intimate in so long…and with literally a person he’s dreamed about for way too long. You went to the bath, and Mr. Cedar grabbed a robe from his closet, when all of a sudden he heard a knock at the door. Ah! Seemed like one of the guards might be here with a message. 

“Yes…?” He answered the door. One of the nutcracker guards was there, kneeling so they’d be eye to eye due to being a massive 7 feet tall in comparison to the average elf. 

“I’m here to escort the ‘present’ to a safer location, as requested from one of the managers,” the guard answered. Mr. Cedar thought he’d be happy to know that this issue was going to be out of the way…but…part of him did wish you stayed at least a little bit longer after that. But no matter…he had to keep professional.

“Of course, give me a second and I’ll retrieve them,” he closed the door, waiting until you came out, now completely dressed back in your pajamas.

“My dear! Great news! We have a nice safe location for you to stay until the night we send you home!” Mr. Cedar told you. “And now there's a decent means of discrete transport, standing right outside the door!” 

“Oh yeah…?” you yawned. “I apologize for uh…making a request, but can I travel tomorrow morning? I’m actually a bit worn out.”

“Of course, of course! So sorry!” Mr. Cedar almost seemed…extremely excited hearing that. “My bed is free for you to use, but…” he went back into his closet for a spare set of sheets. “Here, cleaner sheets, and I’ll get you that drink, just water or would you like something special?”

“Just water, thanks a lot.” Mr. Cedar left the room, and you went to change the sheets. Once the bed was made you realized you felt like a rock about to tumble down a hill, you were truly completely tired, and even if this bed was just a little bit too small, it was so so inviting, and all you wanted to do…

…Was to just fall into a deep, deep sleep…

…At least that’s what you planned.

How long were you out? An hour? Maybe too, suddenly, you were awake, just as the glowing eyes of a large wood and metal man was staring down at you. Oh…on a giant nutcracker. This was the guard Mr. Cedar was talking about. 

“It’s cramped in here,” he said. “But come with me, the workshop is closing down for the night.”

“Huh…? Already…?” you yawned. 

“Yes,” the middle of the guard’s chest opened up, showing a small storage area inside, and out popped a white fur coat, one that seemed to be fit for your size instead of an elf’s.

“I was instructed to guide you out of the warehouse, we have to make sure you’re not seen.” You were picked up with ease, and escorted out of the room back into the main office. Mr. Cedar seemed to have fallen asleep right at his desk, looks like he cleaned up while you were asleep and went back to work. The coat was placed on you as well as a hat and earmuffs, so you were bundled up so well that it was hard to discern exactly what you looked like. 

“Come with me,” the guard instructed.

“C-can I say goodbye to Mr. Cedar first?” you asked. You weren’t going to see him again after all…

“No, it’s time sensitive that we leave now,” you were nearly pushed out, and you looked back at the sleeping Mr. Cedar with a frown before leaving. It looked like the halls were completely empty. Only people left were other large nutcracker guards patrolling the area, and they didn’t pay either you or the guard any mind. 

After a long, slow elevator ride, and a dark, silent walk down a back hall, where there was not another elf in sight. However, once you were out in the cold, snowy outside, at the back of the factory, you noticed something odd about your transportation. 

The guard guided you to a sled, with very large, dark gray reindeer with massive, gnarled horns like rotting old branches. Inside the shed, waiting, were two other men. They were elves…you think. Both of them had the appearance of blue, frostbitten skin, and gnarled white and gray hair. One had two wooden prosthetic legs, and the other was rather burly for his size, and was finishing up a sausage roll.

“You got the package?” one of them asked.

“Yep, now get in,” the guard instructed you. You looked hesitant, looking at the sled, and then looking at the guard.

“You guys…don’t seem to be working for this place…” you muttered. A brief pause was in the air, but suddenly the guard grabbed you forcefully, one hand over your mouth so you wouldn’t scream as you tried to struggle and kick out of his grip, but it was almost light being in a fist fight with a mechanical crane with how powerful he was.

“Get ‘em in! Hurry, we can’t let anyone see us!!” the “elf” with the prosthetic legs brought out some rope, tying your ankles together after forcing them in his grip, while the bigger guy got your arms and then put a cloth over your mouth.

“We’d be gentler but we know we’d get in trouble if we did!” the bigger “elf” chuckled. “Now c’mon, boss is gonna get cranky with us!” You tried to scream, tried to force yourself out of these bindings, but now that was gonna be even harder once the guard stuffed you in a roughly woven sack and tied it shut.

“Good job big fella…” the prosthetic “elf” walked up to the guard, to which the guard knelt down, and he took something off his helmet. A small blue sapphire, or rather a shard of ice that almost looked and felt much like a gemstone. At that, the guard went limp, closed his eyes, and fell right into the snow. 

“Now then, let’s deliver this present to the boss!” Both “elves” got back on the sled, and you could feel the rough, rickety start as it left, leaving with you, and out of sight of the factory. You thought you’d be safe for the three weeks you were trapped here! And now you were going who knows where, and the only thing you could do inside this sack was struggle and try to break out of your binds. You had to have hope, there was some means of escape out of here. Something was going to happen and you could run away from these freaks and find a means to escape!

But…then what was next? Where would you run to? Would there be someone willing to help you once you found your way out of this?

All of this was becoming a nightmare all over again, but you had to cling on to whatever hope that you could get out of this safely.

[everygame]

Space Invaders Part II

Developed/Published by: Taito Released: 7/1979 Completed: 04/06/2024 Completion: Able to polish off three waves counting shots. I could do better.

Not exactly by design but I’ll admit the last few weeks of Every Game I’ve Finished have been like “you should really buy exp. 2601 for context” and this week is even worse, because my article on Space Invaders there is such a banger.

However, in precis, I look at Space Invaders like Bishop looks at the Alien: I admire its purity.

I mean, there really is nothing like it. The heartbeat. The clean, immediate, graphics. You not simply against the machine, but your own ability to count shots to ensure you get the highest score. That beautiful Pepper’s Ghost.

Space Invaders Part II, which Tomohiro Nishikado pitched by writing “Space Invaders” on a big whiteboard and then adding an Y with two lines through it (this caused a lot of confusion in the office because the symbol for yen in Japan is generally 円 not￥and no one thought “Space Invadersy” was a good name) is therefore in an awkward position. Change too much, and the intense and specific flow is gone. Don’t change enough and it’s not really anything.

Of course, you have to remember the context of 1979. Everyone is still Space Invaders mad, and really all you need to do is offer people enough novelty to keep them playing. To this end, Space Invaders II offers a few things. Most simply, it allows people to actually log decent high-scores with their initials, making in the version for glory hunters, and adds some little interstitials which interestingly prefigure those that would be seen in Pac-Man not too soon after. In terms of play, however, the main changes are that there are now Space Invaders that split into two when shot, meaning that the formation can now have gaps (gasp!). Interestingly, this doesn’t happen until the fourth wave in the Japanese original, but for the US Midway release, titled Space Invaders Deluxe (guess they didn’t think it was different enough to deserve that II) you actually get to see this happen from the second wave onwards. And UFOs are slightly different: you can still count shots to ensure you get 300 points, but some of them blink on and off and can only be shot when visible, which weirdly gets you a flat 200 points in Deluxe but 500 in Part II.

And that’s not all! For the truly dedicated, you now get a 500 point bonus for the last Space Invader you kill if it was one of the octopus ones (the lowest two rows) and a 1000 point bonus if it’s the very bottom left one, requiring some creative shots (I certainly haven’t managed it.) Oh, and UFOs can sometimes drop new invaders into the formation, ruining everything!

It sounds like a lot, and it does actually significantly increase the mental load compared to the original, but in particular if you’re playing the Japanese original you’re going to have to be extremely good at Space Invaders to really notice most of it.

Which, to be honest, I don’t mind. If you’re used to playing Space Invaders, you slip into this like a warm bath, and for Pepper’s Ghost fanatics, the machine has an even more beautiful backdrop, where you’re now defending a wee moon base, your bases fitting perfectly on top. I mean for that alone I’m tempted to rate this higher than the original.

This really does manage to ride the line of being different enough, but not too different; it feels like exactly what it was intended to be: the version you upgrade to once you feel like you’ve mastered the original. 

Will I ever play it again? Whenever I see a Space Invaders machine, be it the original or Part II, I’m gonna play it.

Final Thought: Speaking of: I took a trip down to the Rochester Museum of Play to see their new video game focused expansion and sitting in the middle of their Video Game Hall of Fame, was an original Space Invaders cabinet. It was superb and practically worth the trip on it’s own. In fact, it made me fall in love with the “real” experience that after googling around I discovered that desktop toy maker MyArcade makes a tiny desktop arcade Space Invaders that marvellously uses the real pepper’s ghost technique for the screen, and I was so excited to pick it up for it’s honestly quite reasonable price until I found out that it doesn’t feature the 23-15 UFO shot timing, rendering it sort of pointless. Admittedly there’s also the Numskull quarter arcades Space Invaders if you’re absolutely determined for “the real thing, only smaller” but comes in at an eye watering $340 and I literally cannot imagine using those ridiculous wee controls. I guess I’m stuck driving to Rochester. Could be worse I suppose, I love a garbage plate!

Support Every Game I’ve Finished on ko-fi! You can pick up digital copies of exp., a zine featuring all-exclusive writing at my shop, or join as a supporter at just $1 a month and get articles like this a week early.

[chaoxfix]

both the sims and tumblr are functioning significantly worse after their latest updates 🥲

“we’re trying to improve console players experience in build mode 😊” no the FUCK you arent you bastards

you made me have to physically pull the scroll button down in order to browse items in build mode because you tied the fucking right joystick to the camera. you ALSO made it impossible for me to use cabinets other than straight across ones. put that shit back. i swear to god i want a fucking refund are you KIDDING ME with this horse shit

say you don’t give a shit about console players without saying you don’t give a shit about console players. also we should be able to size up/down items. fuck you.

[signedeclipse]

Hello, I would like to get an emergency request if you wouldn’t mind? Been having a very rough few weeks, not gonna get into a lot of detail but having to hang around people similar to the ones who hurt you really badly when you were little and already having existing anxiety issues isnt the best match, and piling a ton of work on top of that makes it worse

So could I get a oneshot? fluff and romance with Enmu, here’s your prompt-

Reader (human but they have moth antenna because antenna are cool I think), has had a very bad day, they are very anxious and stressed, so they go and hide in a cabinet. Enmu finds them later and hangs out with them in the cabinet and helps comfort them with hugs and kisses :)

Daifuku Flavoured Kisses [Enmu X Reader]

Reader is Moth-Human Hybrid Female | Fluff

Recomended Song - Play Date by Melanie Martinez

It was just one thing after another today. 

The sun woke you up by beaming the harshest light you've ever experienced on your face, so you were forced up and out of bed way earlier than you had intended. An early start wasn’t usually aad, but seeing as your partner was strictly nocturnal, your entire sleep schedule was just about ruined. 

After you wake up, you usually go to the water pump and get it working for the day. Still, to your immediate misfortune, the well had gone dry, so you had to pick up a bucket and go back and forth between the river and the pump, filling it until it could pump clear water again. 

Then finally, when you were able to sit down and consider breakfast, you remembered that you had completely run out of milk and eggs– not bad, right? Except the bread had moulded and was now useless. Instead, you opted for making rice pudding for breakfast and sprinkled a bit of cinnamon and brown sugar in it to sweeten it. 

With all that and more piling up against your day, you had entirely given up on your other chores. 

Putting effort into a day that only wanted to make your life a living hell was pointless, especially considering how tired you were from minimal sleep on top of intensive labour. 

Instead, you hopped in the shower and cleaned up after yourself, cautious about touching anything too fragile. 

Things seemed to be looking up as nothing too terrible had occurred since the early afternoon, and the sun was just beginning to dip down, so you worked up the courage to make something a tad more ballsy for dinner. 

Miso soup seemed easy, with few ingredients and just a bit of water, except it seemed the world was still unhappy with you as the moment you turned around to grab some green onions, the flames became uncontrollably and the pot boiled over, falling into the ash pit and effectively snuffing the fire out, as well as dampening all the wood. 

Much like the soup, you had reached your boiling point. 

And that’s what led to where you were currently, curled up in your linen closet underneath all the shelves, encased in the darkness and hugging your knees close to you. 

Normally when you heard the door creak open, you’d be happily cooking in the kitchen to greet the visitor; but this time you were nowhere to be seen. 

Fortunately for you both, this visitor was more than capable at finding you based on the heartbeat alone, and the sound of the closet door sliding open had woken you up from your half daze. For a moment, the demon stood there looking over you, but before you knew it the door was closing and it was a lot more cramped in the space. 

It was brighter, though, his eyes had a strong glow, similar to that of two moons looking over a dark forest. It was just enough to see his sad smile, and for him to see your tear-glistening cheeks. 

Your antenna had drooped significantly, both from the height of the space you were in and the fact that you were more than unhappy about the day, but the man across you would not let you carry that aura of sadness for long. 

“Wake up, dear; I got you something.” 

His voice was a whisper, trying not to startle you much, but his smile grew when you looked up to see what he was speaking about. 

In one hand, he held up what smelt like…flour and sugar wrapped in bamboo leaves. His free hand took yours and flipped it over, placing the bundle into your hand before carefully unwrapping it, revealing what looked like mochi. 

“It's called daifuku, and I think you’ll like it!” He explained as you brought the treat to your mouth, taking a noble out of it. Inside, you could see a whole strawberry surrounded by a sweet paste. It was delicious! You quickly took another bite, clearly hungry after a lack of a good dinner. 

Enmu smiled at seeing how your antenna stood back up, and the way your arms stopped hugging your legs so close. He was happy you liked them, because he had a whole bunch more left in the kitchen. Someone on the train that had…unfortunately ‘disappeared’ was selling loads of them. So he figured you might want them. 

“Thank you, Enmu.” Your voice was fragile, but it sounded better than he had expected. The demon leant, in to which you did the same, providing him with a couple quick kisses as payment. 

The demon didn’t shy away from scooching in closer now that you seemed open to it, and pulle you in closer so you could lean against him while enjoying your treat. 

“Want to hear about last night?” 

“Yes, please.”

Author Note -  Thank you so much for your patience! I'm sorry I wasn't able to get this done on time but I hope it can still help you out in some way or another <3

Word Count - 813

Art Credit - あう子