#the more i see the drawing the more i hate it

[ruubesz-draws]

They are all silly

(Goji hanging out with his bros again!)

Is from this video:

[potatobugz]

dog teeth

[lqveharrington]

FRED WEASLEY AND ALL TOO WELL😭🫶 pleasee

All Too Well | F.W.

summary: your daughter gets curious about all the different parchment you had stored away.

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

includes: reader’s last name is Lupin, mainly fluff and angst, kissing, playful teasing, pregnancy, death, crying (this fic is practically as long as the song)

a/n: first fic of the 2k celebration! also, i cried everytime i came back to write this 😭 i miss him so much

It had been exactly eleven years since your beautiful baby girl Charlotte was born, Molly and Arthur Weasley's first grandchild. Born a pureblood, she would be going to Hogwarts this September and you couldn't be more proud. From all the stories Charlotte heard about your time at Hogwarts, she knew she would have the time of her life. Especially since all the stories were about you, her father, and her uncles. You would tell her all the stories of how the twins and Lee would set up pranks only to be scolded by McGonagall. Sometimes you had to scold them too.

You missed the days where you had no care in life except for your studies. You missed spending every single day with your favorite people and seeing them everyday. You missed everything Hogwarts had to offer before the war began.

But even after all the chaos it brought, your sweet girl was born. The only righteous matter to come out of the war.

"Mum, what's that?" Charlotte sat beside you on the couch and perched her head on your shoulder as she looked inside the box you brought out, beautiful red hair draping over your body.

Her gaze was drawn to the different sized parchment, each one having different drawings and dates. Charlotte picked one up and read the name, eyes widening at the signatures signed at the bottom. They were her father's and there were so many of them. "Whoa."

"What're you doing, creeper?" You laugh softly and pull her to sit in front of you, kissing the top of her head when she put the note back inside the box.

"What are all of those?” She gestured to the box and looked at you with curious eyes, fingers moving to touch the gold ring around your left hand; A habit she picked up from you whenever you felt the need to fidget. “Did dad send you all of those?”

You nod and clasp your hand around hers, feeling her pulse. "Yeah, he uhm,” You cleared your throat and blinked fast, ridding yourself of the tears that wanted to spill over. "He would write me one from the day we met until he… Your dad would even write me notes when I was just sitting next to him in class."

You pursed your lips and looked down, mind going through years and years of memories. Every time you received a new note, you wrote down the date to keep track of how long he had been doing it.

"There's so many..." Charlotte looked in awe and made out some of the dates, many of them dating back to when you were eleven. “He must have loved you a lot, mum. Especially since you kept all of them.”

You let out a chuckle, your hand reaching up to hold the gold ring adorning your necklace, thumb feeling the lettering inside. “Well, your dad was head over heels for me, Char.” You watched her pick up different parchment and smiled softly at how intrigued she was.

“Here, pick a couple and I'll tell you the stories behind them.” You hand her the box and watch her eyes light up before closing them and plucking out five pieces of parchment, handing them to you with glee.

Charlotte folded her arms over her knees, cheek resting against her arm. She watched your eyes water again at the notes she picked, making her bite her bottom lip. She didn’t want you to cry. She hated seeing you cry. Especially when it was over her father.

“Do you…” She started and met your eyes again, giving you a small smile in hopes of getting you to smile again. “Do you remember how you got all of them?”

"Of course, I do." You sent her a short grin and tucked pieces of her hair behind her ear, her brown eyes and red hair oh-so familiar to you. "I remember it all too well."

10/09/1993

“Weasley, you’re late to your own date.” You wave the parchment in his face and bite back a smile when he rolls his eyes and takes the note from you. “You said to meet you in the courtyard at exactly 3PM.”

Everyone had already left for Hogsmeade and you were left standing in the courtyard with the handmade scarf Mrs. Weasley made for you, the wind blowing it around. You weren’t actually upset with Fred, this happened more than once already, but he had time to serve with Filch whenever he pulled a stunt worse than usual.

“No, it says 3:30PM.” He tapped his wand on the parchment and sent you a lopsided grin, this time making you roll your eyes. “You look, Lupin.”

You took the note from his hands and read it out loud, giving him an exasperated look. He pulled you close by the waist, tilting his head down to meet your eyes. He loved the height difference you had with him, being a whole head shorter than him gave him lots of pun material.

“Wow, it says 3:30PM all of a sudden.” You tuck the parchment into your pocket and strain your neck to look at him. He still wore that smile you loved, making you push up on your toes to kiss him properly.

He grinned into the kiss and pressed his lips against yours multiple times until he was satisfied, adjusting the scarf you wore when he separated from you. You sigh softly and push locks of his red hair away from his eyes, meeting the beautiful brown eyes that you adored.

“Now did you actually leave on time? Or did you leave when Filch wasn’t looking?” You question him as you began the descent away from Hogwarts, careful to walk around the rocky terrain.

“I’m offended! Who do you think I am?” Fred laced his hand with yours and guided you safely around the trail to Hogsmeade, looking over yours clothes to insure you were dressed properly for the fall weather in Scotland. “Of course I left when Filch wasn’t looking.”

You smack his chest with the back of your hand and shake your head, not even a little surprised with the stunt he pulled. “Frederick Gideon Weasley.”

“What? I promised a date to the prettiest girl at Hogwarts.” He squeezed your hand before pulling you closer to him, looking around the area in confusion. “Speaking off, have you seen here? We were supposed to meet up at 3PM back at the courtyard.”

“I knew we were supposed to meet up a three, you prat!” You exclaim and smack him once more, making him laugh. He crookedly smiled, loving how you completely ignored his short jab to defend yourself about the right time you were supposed to meet.

Fred leaned down and pressed another kiss to your lips, effectively shutting you up. You let out a small noise before indulging him, placing a hand on his cheek before pulling away.

“That’s not fair.” You whisper to him, lips grazing his when you spoke. You peered down at his lips before back up to his eyes, smiling when you knew you got caught.

“Nothing’s ever fair, Lupin.” He murmured and smiled back at you, thumb softly tracing his initials into your covered hip.

You felt so much love from Fred — although it did take you years to finally agree to go on a date with him. Maybe it was to spite your dad when he began teaching at Hogwarts, but you truly loved Fred. You had known his family for far too long to ignore the heart that only beats for him.

12/25/1994

“Why is it we learned how to ballroom dance together only to ditch and sneak off to the kitchens?” You ask in a low voice, not wanting to break the calmness that fell over the both of you as you moved further and further away from the bustling Great Hall.

Your hands were laced behind your back as you walked beside Fred, letting the silence overtake after an overstimulating two hours at the Yule Ball. You weren’t even planning to go because you knew your social battery wouldn't be able to handle so many people in one room, but Fred convinced you to go with a simple heart-shaped piece of parchment.

“'Cause you needed a breather. I could see it in your eyes.” He nudged your shoulder gently before slipping his arm around your waist, letting you rest your head on his shoulder; The smell of lemon ginger cookies and firecrackers filling your senses from the suit jacket he wrapped around you earlier.

You smiled softly at his actions as he led you down toward the kitchens. He was everything you never knew you needed and it made your heart swell with so much love. You never wanted to leave his side.

Fred came to the conclusion that the elves loved you a lot more than him when you dismissed them with a bright smile. Whenever he and George visited during the midnight runs, they would always greet them. When you were with him and George, the elves would do anything you asked them to without any hesitation.

While you moved around the space to make a quick snack for the both of you, Fred simply admired you. He admired how beautiful you looked doing such a mundane task or how you would always click your heel whenever you were counting something. He was so in love that watching you just stand and cross your arms when the stove wasn't cooperating made he grin stupidly.

Before he realized what exactly he was doing, you sent him a confused look. "You haven't spoke in like—" You looked over to the wall clock, raising your brows in surprise. "Ten minutes. Are you okay?"

Fred hummed and pulled you to stand in front of him, his hands coming down to rest at the curve of your waist. “Can’t I admire how beautiful you look, Lupin?”

You squint your eyes at him and meet the brown eyes that have been staring at you for quite some time. Although he was bold most times, you saw how raw and genuine his words were.

“I mean, even without trying you just look,” Fred laced his hand with yours and slowly spun you around, breath catching when you faced him once more. He was so enamored with you — no spell was strong enough to break the enchantment. "Absolutely stunning."

You try hiding a smile that made its way onto your face, only settling into it when he moved to kiss your neck. You grasp the back of his shoulders and sigh softly, shutting your eyes briefly before he parted and smirked at your breathless look.

"I wanna marry you." Fred murmurs and thumbs your bottom lip, catching you give him your golden smile. "The only thing I want to do before I die is marry you."

You hum and rest your hands on his chest, fingers playing with his lapels. You wanted nothing more to marry the man in front of you. Every little thing he did was like painting a perfect picture, and you wanted to frame it forever and ever. He would be the only oath you were willing to take.

“Let’s dance for a little while.” He suggested as the muffled music coming from the Great Hall wandered into the kitchens, a slow song coming on at a perfect time. “There’s music and the candle light by the fridge.”

“Just us?" You ask almost like you needed the reassurance, watching him bow and take your hand like any waltz started. He clasped his hand with yours and began to take the calculated steps he learned only a few weeks ago.

“Just us.” He reassured you and snuck a kiss to your lips, earning an eye roll and lopsided grin.

Yeah, this was it for the both of you.

05/26/1996

Fred knew that you would be upset if you found out that him and George were planning on leaving Hogwarts without graduating. Especially since you were so keen on helping the both of them study for their N.E.W.T.S. He knew you wanted to graduate with him by your side, but what good would graduating from Hogwarts be if he and George had a plan that could be set in motion right now?

He was going to tell you a couple weeks ago, but you got so busy with studying for N.E.W.T.S. and ensuring you would get 'outstanding' in all subjects. So he decided to wait. Well, until you found the note he was planning to give you.

You were absolutely heartbroken. The entire day you wanted nothing to do with him, even sitting beside Angelina during potions just to avoid him. But he eventually found you sitting at the top of the astronomy tower, head resting on your knees and fingers playing with the gold necklace he got you the year before.

Guilt was eating Fred up from the inside out. Starting with his heart.

“Are you really leaving without graduating?” You murmured when you felt his body heat approach you, head still staring forward toward the forbidden forest.

Fred sighed and sat beside you, running his fingers through his hair. “The system isn’t working for us right now and—" Then he heard the sound that absolutely crushed him. He heard the hiccup that would soon become sobbing. "Lovey, what’s wrong?”

You were quick to bury your head in your arms. You knew Fred could read you like a book and anything you did now would trigger his different responses. When you sniffled, you knew it was game over.

“Okay, lovey, you're crying.” He pulled you around so that you were sitting in front of him and gently moved your arms away from your face, his own face falling at the way you look at him.

Your eyes were wet with tears, your lip was quivering, and it pained him to know he caused it. You wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, but if you tried to speak, you would completely fall apart. Everything was stressing you out and the note just pushed you over the edge.

“You know I'll be at the station when you get back.” Fred murmured and tucked your hair behind your ears, listening to your uneven breaths. "I won't leave you forever."

You hiccup and turn your head, biting your bottom lip to help stabilize yourself. "I-I just thought we would have more t-time together before everything got s-so serious outside of Hogwarts."

Fred tilted his head and tried his best to meet your eyes, "But you know that's not the case, lovey. You'll be living with Georgie and I, and you know were aren't exactly the most serious people."

You let out a wet laugh and look down, fingers coming up to play with the infinity symbol on you necklace. Fred smiled softly at your laugh. At least he knew you weren't too terribly upset over the predicament.

“If I do w-well on my N.E.W.T.S, I'll be t-training full time as a h-healer.” You hiccup and trace the symbol over itself, still trying to calm down as best as you could. “And I know you two will run your business together most of the time. So I don't—”

“Lovey, look at me." Fred pleaded and lightly cupped your cheek, tilting your head so he could face you properly. "Nothing will ever come between you and me. You were in my past, currently living in my present, and you are indefinitely my future. You are my everything and I refuse to leave this spot until you give me that golden smile I love."

Your laugh softly and give him that golden smile, "I love you, Fred Weasley."

08/14/1997

Fred proposed to you a couple of months ago. It wasn’t anything too extravagant or crazy, but you definitely cried like a baby when he got down on one knee and revealed a gorgeous gold ring you swore cost more than how much the twins made a month. Flash forward, you were having a wedding at the Burrow surrounded by family and loved ones.

After vows were said and the most passionate kiss was exchanged, you and Fred were immediately separated. He was pulled to talk to family he didn't even know were family while you were stuck plastering a fake smile to Sirius and Remus who kept going on and on about how happy they were for you.

Eventually the both of you were able to get away, running away from your own reception like you would if you were still in Hogwarts. You laughed as you both made it to the edge of the forest, resting your head on his shoulder. Although you were both only nineteen, you knew that this would be forever.

“Do you think they'll realize the bride and groom are missing from their own wedding?” You let your laughter subside and following him wherever he was guiding you. Was it such a good idea to follow him blindly? Not really, but you trusted Fred. "Where are we going?"

“You’ll see.” He moved a hand to cover your eyes and helped you maneuver through the foliage.

It felt like an hour of just walking and constantly trying to peek through his hands until he stopped abruptly, causing you to stumble over your own heeled feet. He helped stabilize you before removing his hand, letting you look at the sight in front of you.

“Tada!”

The sight was drop dead gorgeous. Almost every single note he had ever wrote to you was floating around a cleared part of the forest, small wisps of light acting as your guide to each and every date. Your eyes were filled with tears as you went up to one of the earliest notes, the date going back to the first week of your first year at Hogwarts.

“When did you ever have the time to do this?” You murmured and looked around, hand coming up to play with your golden necklace, the same one he got you forever ago.

“I have six siblings, I can get them to do my bidding.” Fred shrugged and flicked his wand, the song from the Yule Ball playing in the background. From where you would never know. “Shall we dance, Mrs. Weasley?”

"We shall." You smile brightly and clasp your hands in his, letting him guide you through the same waltz. You squealed when he spun you around and fell into his arms, both of your gold rings flashing from the light. The rings that were a promise of love and happiness.

“Thank you.” You look up at him with so much love and sigh. He was now yours forever, bound by the vows you cried to.

He looked between your eyes and tilted his head, "For what, lovey?"

"Just for being yourself. Everything that you do is just..." You find no other way to express what the feeling was, racking your brain for a word but unable to fine the proper wording. You push up on your toes and kiss him silly, pulling away just as fast. "That's what it feels like."

Fred felt warmth coat his cheeks and neck, lowering his head so he was mere millimeters away from your face. “You love me.”

“I love you, yes.” You look down at his lips before looking back up to the brown eyes you fell in love with so many years ago. "That's why I married you, dummy."

"Good thing you did too, your dad was going to kill me if I just wasted all your time. You know how hard it was to convince your dad I actually love you?" Fred complained as he dipped you, smirking when you gasped at the sudden movement. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips before pulling you back up.

You furrow your brow before breaking out in laughter as you remember the memories of him trying to get the Remus Lupin to like him. “He’s not that hard to charm, Fred!”

“Considering it took me months to even get him on board of the idea of you marrying me, I don’t believe it.” Fred kept you close, swaying to the music that was now coming to an end.

“Whatever.” You press a kiss to his jaw. “I love you either way.”

04/25/1998

The entire day you've been a wreck. The note you held in your hands felt like a weight, and you wanted to toss it to Fred as fast as possible. Your nerves were killing you, slowly making you twitchy at every movement. You weren't sure how Fred would react to the news, but when you found out, you threw up. Well, you weren't sure if that was because you were scared or if it was morning sickness.

“Georgie, has Fred gone on break yet?” You wander down into the store and pick at your nails, narrowly avoiding two kids chasing each other throughout the store.

“Ah, not yet. He’s dealing with a particularly tough customer. I’ll send him up for you once he’s done though.” George sent you a sympathetic smile and flicked his wand, watching the stairs turn to help the kids return back to their parents.

His smile soon fell into a frown when he noticed how sick you were looking. He knew that you were pregnant, but it was well past the morning and you were sitting upstairs merely working on papers.

“What’s wrong?” He asked and put an arm around your shoulder, guiding you away from the crowds so there were no stragglers to listen in on the conversation.

You purse your lips and spin the golden ring adorning your left hand, head reeling at the thought of telling Fred about the pregnancy. “I’m telling him today.”

“Oo, yeah. Can’t wait to see the look on that wanker’s face.” George chuckled and earned a punch to the arm from you, causing him to recoil and glare.

“Hey!” You scold and place a hand over the lower half of your stomach. “You can’t say that anymore, there’s a child present!”

“Aw, you’re no fun anymore now that you’re married and becoming a mother.” George stuck his tongue out at you before sending you a reassuring smile and giving you a thumbs up. “Congratulations, you can do it."

You nodded and made your way back up to the flat above the store, pacing back and forth from the living room to the kitchen. The nerves were getting worse. The note soon became overly crinkled and you swore your socks were getting tarnished by how many times you frustratedly spun around on your heel.

By the time you thought your nerves were finally settling, Fred walked in with the smile you loved. Your emotions sky rocketed and you ran into his arms, burying your head in his neck while he supported you up by the back of your thighs.

"Did you miss me already?" He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your cheek, earning a quiet 'yes' from you. "Aw, lovey."

After a few seconds of practically gluing yourself to him, you finally pulled away and pressed a proper kiss to his lips. He smiled and thumbed the skin available to him. You hum and direct him toward the couch, pulling away only to giggle when he chased your lips. He sent you a joking pout, ready to protest when you shoved the note into his hands.

"What is this?" He unfolded the paper and stared at you with so much love you felt a cavity coming in. "Turning the tables on me? I— Fucking hell."

"Fred!" You smacked his chest before meeting his brown eyes, unsure of the emotion behind them. "So?"

"So what?" His grinned and tackled you onto the couch, peppering your face in kisses. "You're pregnant! I'll be a father!"

You laugh at the feeling of his kisses, "You're not mad?"

"Godric, how could I be mad at you? You're having my child!" Fred kissed you senselessly, free hand coming down to rest on your stomach. "We're going to be parents!"

"We're going to be parents." You say to him and cup his face, letting your stored tears free fall from joy. "You and me."

"Just us." Fred wiped away your tears and sighed, resting his forehead on yours. "Us and the little one."

05/02/1998

You promised Fred you would stay home today. You promised him. But he never promised he would return home to you, causing you to rush over to the Hogwarts as soon as possible. When you arrived, the war was already won, but you didn't care. You wanted to see your husband.

“Where is he?” You ask the first person you find, sighing in relief when you see the youngest Weasley. You excused yourself and ran over to her, grasping Ginny’s arm before seeing her solemn expression, making you internally panic. “Ginny, where is your brother?”

Although you never specified, she knew exactly who you were asking for. She bit her lip and pointed to where George was kneeling, burying her head in your shoulder. You felt your heart constrict as you held her closely, breath catching at the sight in front of you. Molly was wiping her own tears when she saw you, pulling her daughter away from you so you could see Fred yourself.

“No no no no no no.” You fall to your knees and catch your breath, looking at Fred through wet eyes. A sob threatened to escape your throat when you felt for his hand, the warmth of his hand now gone and replaced with cold. You choked on tears and let yourself cry, hiding your face in his shoulder.

You begged the universe for this to be a horrible joke that everyone was in on. That Fred was okay and well, only pretending to be dead.

"Freddie, please." You cry and clutch his hand tighter, feeling for the gold band that represented your everlasting love. "I need you to wake up, Weasley. I-I can't do this without you. How am I s-supposed to—" You choked on your words, sobbing once more. You couldn't even finish your sentences.

When you felt a pair of arms pull you away from Fred, reality hit you like a train wreck. You stumbled over your feet as you stared at his dead body. Fred Weasley was really gone.

"What happened?" You whisper and stare at Fred, tears still falling. You felt so helpless. You were a healer and there was nothing you could do. When no one answered you, you whipped around and stared at whoever carried you away, another sob threatening to spill over when you saw George. "What happened, George?"

“There was an explosion.” He whispered and pulled you into a hug, letting you cry for a second. He had his last moment with Fred, but you hadn't seen him in hours.

You sobbed and collapsed in his arms, cries ringing out into the Great Hall. The pain you felt was nothing like you ever experienced before. You did everything you could do try and deny it, but no matter what you thought of, the sight of his dead body seemed to appear.

“George, why are we at Hogwarts?” You huff and follow him into a restricted room.

You weren't even supposed to be at Hogwarts and somehow you were standing on the very grounds your heart shattered. Your daughter just started a few weeks ago, but George somehow convinced you to return and dragged you to a room you've never seen before.

George glanced down at you, noticing your distant gaze, like you weren't safe inside the building anymore. “Have you been to Hogwarts since the war?”

“No.” You purse your lips and push the thought of the war away, brows creasing when you see how clean and furbished the room was. “Why? I need to get going soon. My shift—"

“Just look.” He pointed toward one side of the room, revealing the little contents of the room.

You frowned when you looked over. There was nothing of interest. “I can see the Mirror of Erised and a covered portrait.”

“Pull the bloody cover off.” George rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, shaking his head when you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Okay, but I’m not looking at the mirror.” You sighed and covered your eyes when passing the mirror. When you stood in front of the portrait, you pulled the cover off and gave George an annoyed smile. “I don’t understand—" When he gestured for you to look back over, you rolled your eyes before gasping, dropping the cloth without realizing a piece of parchment was attached to the front of it. "Oh my, Fred Weasley.”

“Hi, lovey.” Fred winked at you, wearing that smirk you haven't seen in years. When he saw tears falling from your face, he frowned and seemingly reached out to you. “Why are you crying? Did George upset you?”

“No, in fact he made me happy.” You spoke through tears and wiped your tears, smiling sadly. “I get to see you again.”

Fred grinned again and clapped his hands. “It’s been forever since I saw you last, Lupin. Where were you?”

You furrow your brows and look at George in confusion. “Does he—?” George shook his head and handed you the parchment that fell. You quickly peeled it open and wiped your tears once more as you read the contents. "He made it for a prank he never committed to." You huff and shake your head before responding to Fred. “I’ve been out and about, Weasley.”

He tilted his head and scanned your figure up and down, confusion written all over his face. “It seems as if we have a predicament here.”

“And what is that?” You murmur and step closer to the portrait, not realizing George had left you alone to have a moment with Fred.

“I want to hug you, but the best I can do is talk.” Fred sent you a lopsided grin and blew a kiss at you, making you laugh.

“Seems like a big problem.” You nod in agreement and sigh, wrapping your arms around your midsection. “I’ll understand what you mean.”

“In that case, I’m giving you the biggest hug right now.” Fred spread his arms wide and pretended to give you a hug before his eyes caught the gold ring around your left hand. “Where’d you get the ring, lovey?”

“Uhm…” You look down and spin the ring, smiling down at the piece of jewelry. “I got it from you a bit ago.”

Fred beamed in joy before he flattened again, looking around like he could see past the frame. “Where am I?”

“Home.” You muster a smile and wipe a tear that managed to escape, hands shaking. “You’re at home with your mum and dad. Don’t worry though, they wanted to actually hang out with you.”

Fred scoffed and shook his head, “Still rude as ever, Lupin.”

“Not as bad as you, Weasley.” You laugh softly and hold back anymore tears, hands finding Fred’s adjacent ring hanging around your neck. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[starksweasley]

No Promises // Rhysand

Summary: In which you and Rhysand hate each other, but maybe not really. 

Word Count: 2337

The air of the Autumn Court woods is thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Your blade whispers through the air as you move, every sense heightened. A mission deep in Beron’s territory is dangerous, but you’ve grown used to danger. What’s one more trek into hostile lands compared to centuries of warfare and subterfuge?

But you hadn’t expected them.

The rustle of leaves is subtle but distinct, and you spin, blade raised. Two figures step out of the shadows, their faces as familiar as your own reflection—Rhysand and Cassian. The High Lord of the Night Court and his brutish General. Your grip on your weapon tightens, though Cassian’s hands are raised in mock surrender.

“Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart,” Cassian says with a lopsided grin, his hazel eyes glinting with humor. His stance is deceptively relaxed, but you know better than to assume he’s unprepared. Every inch of him is coiled, ready to spring into action if necessary.

“Cassian,” you say curtly, though you don’t lower your blade. Your gaze flicks to Rhysand, who steps out of the shadows with a grace that seems almost lazy, though his sharp violet eyes miss nothing. They rake over you, taking in every detail of your stance, your weapon, and the defiant tilt of your chin. It feels like he’s weighing and dissecting you in a single glance.

“Still Tamlin’s loyal little pet, I see,” Rhysand drawls, the corner of his mouth curving in a smirk that you’ve dreamed of wiping off his face for centuries. His voice is as smooth as silk, but there’s an undercurrent of something sharper, something taunting, as if he’s daring you to respond.

You bristle, your fingers tightening on the hilt of your blade. His words cut deeper than you’d like to admit, but you don’t rise to the bait. Not this time. Instead, you force yourself to sheath your weapon, though you keep your stance defensive, muscles taut and ready. “What are you doing here?” you demand, your tone clipped and icy.

Rhysand’s smirk deepens, and he steps closer, his shadows curling around his boots like loyal pets. “The same thing as you, I imagine,” he says smoothly. “A little sabotage, a little chaos. Though I doubt your reasons are as noble as ours.”

“Noble?” you scoff. “You mean self-serving. Don’t pretend you’re here out of the goodness of your heart, Rhysand.”

Cassian steps between you, his massive form an unspoken reminder to keep your tempers in check. His broad shoulders block your view of Rhysand, and his tone carries a note of exasperation. “Alright, kids, let’s play nice. The Autumn Court’s our real enemy, remember?”

You barely hear him over the pounding of your heart, your glare locked on Rhysand like a tether. His expression doesn’t waver, still fixed in that insufferable smirk that makes your blood boil.

“Stay out of this, Cassian,” you both snap, your voices colliding with identical vehemence. The sound carries in the stillness of the forest, as though the trees themselves are judging your childish bickering.

Cassian sighs, muttering something under his breath about being surrounded by stubborn children. He raises his hands in mock surrender, stepping back just enough to let the tension between you and Rhysand simmer unchecked. His gaze flicks between you both, clearly unimpressed but unwilling to intervene further.

Before Cassian can offer another quip, a sharp thwip breaks the tense silence. An arrow embeds itself in the tree beside you, the shaft quivering from the force of the impact. Instinct takes over, and you lunge to the side just as another arrow whizzes past where your head had been a heartbeat earlier.

“Ambush,” Cassian growls, drawing his sword in one fluid motion. 

Rhysand is already moving, his shadows unfurling like serpents, slithering through the clearing to sow chaos. His hands glow faintly, magic sparking at his fingertips as he summons blasts of darkness that hurl two sentries into the trees with sickening thuds. You barely have time to curse under your breath as the Autumn Court sentries emerge from the underbrush, their weapons gleaming like fire-forged teeth in the dim light.

They move with precision, flanking and attacking in coordinated bursts. The first soldier lunges at you, and your blade meets his with a deafening clang. You twist sharply, driving your heel into his knee and bringing your weapon up to slash across his exposed side. He crumples with a guttural scream, but there’s no time to savor the victory. Another attacker barrels toward you, his axe glinting in the sparse moonlight.

Cassian’s roar splits the air as he intercepts the soldier, cleaving through his opponent with a brutal swing of his sword. Blood sprays, painting the clearing in a macabre sheen. “Focus!” he barks, casting a quick glance your way before turning to block another strike aimed at his side.

Your attention snaps back to your immediate threat as a sentry’s dagger slices through the fabric of your sleeve, nicking your arm. You hiss in pain but counter with a swift upward thrust, catching him under the chin. He shouts, collapsing to the ground.

Rhysand’s magic pulses in the air, a suffocating wave of power that crushes three sentries in its wake. His shadows dart and weave like sentient beings, tripping attackers and wrapping around throats. One sentry collapses mid-lunge, his sword clattering uselessly to the forest floor as the life drains from his eyes.

It’s chaos. The clash of steel and the  cries of the dying create a symphony of violence that rings in your ears. You’re holding your own, barely, when your peripheral vision catches a glint of movement. An archer perched in the high branches, his bow drawn and aimed at Rhysand’s unprotected chest.

Time slows as you watch the arrow leave the string, its deadly tip slicing through the air with cruel precision. Your heart lurches, your body moving before your mind can catch up. The world narrows to the single act of stepping in front of the High Lord of Night.

A sharp, searing pain explodes in your abdomen as the arrow buries itself deep. The force of it drives you back a step, your breath hitching as you clutch at the wound. Warmth seeps through your fingers, staining your tunic crimson. The clearing tilts and sways, but you grit your teeth and force yourself to stay upright, raising your blade to block a sentry who charges you, wild-eyed and snarling.

“No!” Rhysand’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharper than any blade, filled with something raw and unfamiliar. In an instant, he’s at your side, his magic surging outward in a dark, furious wave that obliterates the remaining sentries. The clearing falls eerily silent, the only sounds the ragged breaths of the three of you and the faint rustle of leaves disturbed by the fading shadows.

“You reckless fool,” Rhysand hisses, his hands pressing firmly against the wound in your stomach to stem the bleeding. The warm stickiness of blood seeps through his fingers, and his usual smirk is nowhere to be seen. In its place is an expression you’ve never witnessed before—raw, almost panicked, as if the sight of you like this unravels something deep inside him.

Cassian drops to his knees at your other side, his face pale and drawn. His voice is steady, but you catch the tremor beneath it. “We need to get her to Madja. Now.”

“I’m fine,” you manage to grit out, though the sharp, twisting agony in your stomach makes the words sound more like a desperate lie. Your vision blurs, and every breath is a battle.

“Shut up,” Rhysand snaps, his sharp tone a mask for the desperation in his eyes. His hands are unnervingly gentle as they scoop you into his arms. The movement sends a fresh wave of pain radiating through you, and you gasp, clutching weakly at his shirt.

“You’re not dying in this gods-forsaken forest,” he mutters, his jaw tight with determination. He glances at Cassian, and with a nod, they’re both moving. Rhysand’s grip on you is firm yet protective, his magic already whispering at the edges of your consciousness, keeping you tethered to the waking world.

You try to speak, to argue, to tell him that you don’t want to owe him anything. But the weight of exhaustion presses down on you, pulling you into a darkness that feels cold and endless. The last thing you hear is the faint, frantic thrum of Rhysand’s heartbeat against your cheek as everything goes black.

When you wake, the first thing you notice is the soft glow of faelight illuminating the room. The second is the figure sitting beside the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his head bowed. Rhysand.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically quiet as his gaze meets yours. There’s no smirk, no taunt—just an intensity that makes your chest ache more than the wound.

“Why am I not dead?” you mutter, your throat dry.

“Because you’re too stubborn to die,” he says, a flicker of a smile ghosting across his lips. Then his expression hardens. “And too foolish to stay out of danger. What the hell were you thinking, throwing yourself in front of that arrow?”

The sharpness in his voice startles you, and your chest tightens with indignation. “I saved your life, Rhysand. Forgive me for not wanting the Autumn Court to take out their greatest threat.”

“You think I needed saving?” he snaps, leaning forward, his violet eyes blazing. “Do you have any idea what could have happened? What almost happened?”

Your temper flares, and you push yourself up despite the pain. “And what was I supposed to do? Stand there and watch you die?” Your voice rises, fueled by frustration and the lingering sting of his words.

“Yes!” he bites out, his shadows curling at the edges of the room like restless predators. “Yes, you were supposed to stay out of it. You could’ve died, and then what?”

His anger collides with your own, a clash that leaves the room feeling charged and suffocating. “I’m not some fragile thing that needs to be protected,” you retort, your voice shaking slightly but no less fierce. “I made a choice.”

“A stupid one,” he growls, standing abruptly. The movement is fluid,  and it sets your heart pounding for reasons you can’t entirely explain. “Do you think I want your blood on my hands? That I want to…” His voice falters, and he turns away, dragging a hand through his hair. “Gods, you drive me insane.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with an emotion you can’t quite name. The tension is unbearable, and before you can stop yourself, you say, “Maybe you should stop caring so much, then.”

He spins back to you, his movements swift and precise, and the heat in his gaze has shifted. The anger still burns in those violet eyes. “Maybe I can’t,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, like a confession he didn’t mean to make.

You blink, caught off guard. Your chest tightens with the weight of his words, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. He takes a step closer, and the room seems to shrink. The shadows around him flicker like flames, as though they, too, are drawn to the pull between you.

“You…” he begins, his voice breaking slightly, and he looks at you with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. His hand twitches at his side, as though he’s debating whether to reach for you or pull away.

The silence stretches, taut and fragile, until he finally makes his choice. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, and when he leans down, the space between you feels electric, crackling with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. “You…” he begins, his voice a whisper, but whatever he was going to say is lost as his lips crush against yours.

The kiss is raw and desperate, filled with years of anger, frustration, and something far more vulnerable. His hands cup your face, fingers trembling slightly as they press against your skin, grounding him in this moment. You’re too stunned to react at first, your mind racing to catch up with what’s happening. But then the fire of his kiss ignites something deep within you, and you’re kissing him back with equal fervor, pouring every ounce of defiance and longing into it. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, clutching the fabric of his shirt as though holding onto him will keep you anchored.

When he finally pulls away, his breath is ragged, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes search your face, as though looking for answers to questions he’s too afraid to ask. “Don’t ever do that again,” he says hoarsely, his voice breaking on the last word. For once, there’s no command in his tone, only a plea.

You swallow hard, your own breath coming in uneven gasps. You don’t know whether to push him away or pull him closer, and the weight of the moment threatens to crush you.

For a moment, silence lingers between you, thick with unspoken truths. Then, with an unexpected gentleness, Rhysand’s hand trails down to your wrist, where his thumb brushes over your pulse. It’s steady now, unlike his own heartbeat, which thunders against his ribs. “You scare me,” he admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I hate that I care enough to be scared.”

“Rhys,” you begin, unsure of what to say. His name is a soft exhale on your lips, but it seems to be enough for him.

“Just rest,” he interrupts, his voice firmer now, though his eyes remain soft. “We’ll talk later.” His shadows curl protectively around the edges of the room, as if creating a barrier between you and the rest of the world. “And promise me you'll never pull shit like that again.”

You close your eyes, feeling a sort of calm blanket you before you finally whisper, "Can't promise that."

[thrashkink-coven]

Super easy and cheap devotional acts for beginners.

A nice cup and some clean, fresh, water on the altar can often be all you need for daily offerings

Grow a plant on your altar, use your weekly watering as a devotional act. Hermes is currently helping my peace lily grow :)

Draw their sigil on your nails and then paint over them with nail polish that matches their color correspondences.

If you can’t acquire alcohol for your deities (wine, vodka etc) because you’re too young, white vinegar also works. The quality we’re looking for is the purification aspect. White vinegar is natural, antibacterial and never goes bad. You can leave it on your altar until it evaporates if you want.

If you work with a deity involved with self love like Aphrodite, investing a little more time into your skin care and scent can be very rewarding. Nothing super boujie, it can be as simple as getting some nice smelling lotion at the dollar store.

Food and water offerings don’t have to be external, especially if you’re in the broom closet and don’t have an altar. Reserve the first bite of your meal for your deity. Savour its taste while you think about them. Pour yourself a crisp glass of cold water and guzzle it as a devotional act.

Use a washable or dry erase marker to draw sigils on your shower wall for bath rituals. It’ll come right off when you’re done.

Tea bags are just bags of dried herbs. You can use these as offerings or draw sigils on them and burn them for witchcraft. No one is ever suspicious about a little tea. Adding a tea bag to your water offerings also gives them an extra kick.

A couple dollars at the thrift store will take you a long way. I love thrifting items because they’re usually well loved. I especially like thrifting spirituality books that past practitioners have written in. Sometimes my deities communicate with me through the books that are available on any given day. If I was just talking to Leviathan about the power of water and I see a book about Hydromancy, I know that he’s sending me a sign. Like, 90% of the books Lucifer has sent me popped up at the thrift store. Most expensive one was $7.99. (and I tag swapped it for 2.99 😊 thanks, Hermes-

and on this note, literally steal. Not from small local thrift stores, but I mean this with my whole chest, steal from Value Village. If you can sneakily swap a tag and get something for cheaper literally do it. Value Village gets all their inventory for free I literally do not care. Corporate thrift stores don’t deserve rights. I steal from Value Village as a devotional act to Hermes 😊 lmao )

If you don’t have money to spend on really nice paintings and posters of your deities for your altar, start buying books about them. It’s a double win. A book about Greek religion will certainly have multiple beautiful sculptures and paintings of Aphrodite that I can cut out and put on my wall. A book about angels might have a cool painting of Lucifer. Books about Goddesses, ancient religions, anthropology, astrology etc. You get the opportunity to learn, and if it’s a book you don’t particularly care too much for, you can take it apart for imagery. People ask me all the time where I got all of my paintings and pictures from. BOOKS.

Does your deity have a kind of complicated sigil that you love but you also kinda hate redrawing every other day? Sorry Cerberus (Naberius) I love you but that sigil is so complicated babe.

Learn how to block print! It’s very simple. You get a block of linoleum (usually pretty cheap, I think mine were like $5) , some ink (~$10), and a carving tool (varies depending), and make a sigil stamp! All you gotta do is draw your sigil and carve it out nicely one time. You can still bless it and imbue it with your energy, and you can easily put it on prayers, talismans etc.

Chalk is your best friend. Use it to draw sigils on the floor or wall that can easily be wiped away. You can imbue special chalk and use it for casting circles if you don’t like the mess of salt.

[wszczebrzyszynie]

Helene, Dominic, and Artur have always caught my eye. I see that they're side characters but I would love to hear more about them, if you don't mind

although each member of the Kowalewicz family is a bit strange id say Arturs side of the family is the most... hmm... average? not sure of thats a good word here. All of the Kowalewicz siblings hate each other to a degree except for Artur who has left and found peace abroad. Despite the family being pretty well off still (well kind of) he has been living rather humble in England, where he met Helene (in Liverpool, to be exact), who became his muse of sorts and the main subject of his portraits; it was either late 1870s-1880, as Dominic is 13 or so, and DNS plot happens around 1893-96. I imagine shes older than Artur, but not by much. Shes a curious woman, both she and her husband share an interest in travelling (its more about the landscapes; even though Helene doesnt draw or paint herself, shes very artistically-tuned, i suppose. Her talents are more in music; i imagine she knows how to play piano and sings really well, though i dont think she has any "proffesional education" in either). Even though theyre married, i imagine them more like friends first, then lovers; theyre like-minded, both very peaceful people, but they do live in their own world a bit. Dominic inherited none of that. hes a bit annoying, even though in the plot hes a bit too. hmm. shy? to truly show it. Which is fair he is 13. his main interests are food and getting back home to his friends. Have a Helene... shes the nicest one to draw out of the three. Its not a surprise she became Arturs muse

[phantomwithbreakfast]

⋆⁺₊❅. —— HAPPY HOLIDAYS! —— ⋆⁺₊❅.

Some fluff—lighthearted.

⋆⁺₊❅. ——————— ⋆⁺₊❅.

You were walking home, the snow falling gently around you, when you saw him—Phantom.

His white hair glowing faintly in the dim winter evening, his eyes like emerald embers in the cold. But tonight, there was something… different. A bright crimson Christmas hat sat askew on his head, and his entire body was wrapped in twinkling green lights, reflecting off the falling snow.

You paused, unsure whether to approach him or just keep walking. But something about the way he floated with legs crossed neatly, just inched above a bench—slightly hunched, murmuring to himself—made you stay. He didn’t seem like the invincible ghost boy everyone talked about. He looked… almost human.

“I’m so adorned, it’s ridiculous,” you heard him mutter, the words carrying a touch of sarcasm. “Like hanging twinkle lights on a wreck and calling it cheerful.”

A smile tugged at your lips despite yourself, though your heart ached at the sadness in his voice. You took a cautious step forward, the faint crunch of snow beneath your feet drawing his attention. His head snapped up, and for a moment, his glowing green eyes met yours.

“Oh! Uh, hi,” he said, startled, before giving you a small, sheepish wave with his left hand, which was tangled in the lights.

You froze.

His voice was soft and echoing—it made your heart flutter. You couldn’t say a word. You just stood there, feeling nervousness with a touch of shyness.

He tilted his head, studying you, and his expression softened into something warmer.

“Even though I hate Christmas…” he started, his tone playful but still tinged with something heavier. “I still wish you happy holidays.”

Those words made you smile, and you finally managed to respond.

“Yeah, for you too, Phantom.”

He smiled back, but there was something fragile about it—like it might crack if you looked too closely. He lowered his hand and fiddled with the lights, his gaze falling to the snow laying on the ground.

You took another step closer, your curiosity overtaking your nerves.

“Are you… okay?” you asked softly.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, but his voice wavered, the faintest crack giving him away.

“You don’t really look… fine,” you said gently, feeling a pang of concern.

The burden in his expression, the way his fingers nervously twisted the lights—it sent a faint ache through your chest, a quiet kind of heartbreak.

He looked up at you again, his brows pulling together.

“Why would you think that?” he asked, his voice defensive but not unkind. “Is it the glowing lights? The festive hat? Or maybe the whole ghost thing?”

You laughed softly, his sarcasm breaking through some of your nervousness.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s just… I don’t know. I can see it. It’s like you’re carrying something. And because you said… you hate Christmas.”

He stared at you for a moment, his emerald eyes searching yours. Then, with a quiet sigh, he glanced down again.

“It’s not a big deal,” he mumbled, his voice softer now.

You took another careful step closer, closing the fragile distance, that you could see the faint glow of his aura reflected in your breath.

“It seems like a big deal,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a little moment, he didn’t say anything.

Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet yours. His glowing eyes, catching the light of the falling snow, were so close now—brighter than you’d ever imagined, as if they could see straight through you.

“Why… why do you care?” he asked quietly, his voice soft but hesitant, almost vulnerable.

You felt your cheeks flush, the question catching you off guard.

“I uh—I just… I do,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I guess I just care because… it’s you.”

A faint smile touched his lips—not the trembling, fragile smile from before, but something more real.

“Thanks,” he said softly with an unfamiliar warmth.

You smiled back, your nerves melting away as the snow continued to fall around you.

In that tiny moment, it didn’t matter that he was a ghost—a hero. You felt like you really saw him—not Phantom, the ghost boy… but just… him.

“Why are you even out here?” he asked suddenly.

The echo of his voice still sent a shiver through you, but his tone wasn’t accusing—just curious, maybe a little wary.

“I… I was just heading home,” you said, your words coming out in a rush. “Family dinner. You know… holiday stuff.”

He nodded faintly, though his gaze dipped to the ground again, his fingers resuming their absent twisting of the lights.

“But… what about you?” you asked, the words rolling over your lips before you could stop them. “Why are you here, all… weirdly dressed up?”

His lips twitched into a half-smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Thought I’d try something new,” he said, his tone wry. “Blend in, maybe. Turns out, I’m still just… me.”

The quiet way he said it made your chest ache again. You hesitated, then spoke softly. “I think it suits you.”

His head shot up, his eyes widening slightly.

“What?”

“The lights,” you said quickly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks, your pulse quickening. “The hat, the whole… thing. It suits you.”

He just stared at you, and you worried you’d said something wrong. But then his expression softened, and the faintest color seemed to bloom across his pale face.

“Oh, right. Thanks, I guess,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

The short silence wasn’t awkward—it was warm, like the snow around you had suddenly stopped being cold. You didn’t know what possessed you, but you found yourself reaching out, your right fingers brushing against the strand of lights tangled around his wrist.

“Can I…?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

He blinked, looking at your hand, then back at you. Slowly, he nodded, and you gently untangled the strand, careful not to tug too hard. His skin—if you could call it that—felt cold and you couldn’t help the way your breath caught.

“There,” you said softly, holding up the freed strand. “That’s better.”

“Thanks,” he said again, his voice just above a echoed whisper.

When your eyes met his again, there was something different in his gaze. The sadness lingering in his reflective eyes was still there, but it was softer now, edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said suddenly, his voice thoughtful.

“What do you mean?”

“Most people would’ve screamed. Or run. Or tried to… I don’t know… fight me.” He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “But you… you didn’t.”

“Well,” you said, your voice trembling with nervous warmth, “you’re not what I expected either.”

He tilted his head, his gaze curious.

“How so?”

“You’re, uh…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’re more… human than I thought you’d be.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. But then he smiled—a real, genuine smile this time, one that lit up his face almost as brightly as the aura around him.

After that, he softly chuckled.

“Maybe,” he said, still smiling. “But… you’re the first person who’s ever noticed.”

You felt your cheeks flush, your heart skipping a beat as his gaze lingered on you. It felt like the rest of the world had faded away.

You shifted slightly, watching as Phantom tilted his head back to glance up at the falling snow, soft—wistful.

“It’s funny,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it felt like he was speaking more to himself than to you. “Snow looks so… peaceful. Like it could cover everything bad in the world and make it go away. But it doesn’t. It just hides it for a while.”

The sadness in his voice tugged at you again, a hollow ache settling in your chest.

“But maybe,” you said softly, “even if it doesn’t make the bad things go away, it can still make things… beautiful. At least for a little while.”

He glanced at you, his glowing eyes narrowing slightly in thought. He said nothing, and you wondered if you’d overstepped. But then he smiled—a small, crooked smile.

“You really think that?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

He held your gaze for a long moment, and something in his expression shifted. It wasn’t just sadness anymore—it was something gentler, something vulnerable.

“You’re really… different,” he said finally, “In a good way.”

You felt your cheeks flush again at his words, a warmth spreading through you despite the cold.

“So are you,” you murmured, barely loud enough for him to hear.

His smile grew slightly more, but before he could say anything else, a sudden gust of wind blew through the air, carrying with it a flurry of snowflakes. You shivered, pulling your jacket tighter around you, and Phantom’s expression shifted to something almost… protective.

“You’re freezing,” he said, frowning slightly. “Why are you even out here in the cold anyway?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your feet.

“I told you—I was heading home. But then I saw you, and I just…” You trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence. How could you explain the pull you’d felt when you saw him, the way you couldn’t just walk past?

Phantom’s frown softened, and he glanced down at the lights still tangled around his arms and hands.

“Well,” he said after a moment, his voice lighter, almost teasing, “I guess I’m lucky you stopped. It’s not every day someone saves me from my own bad decorating skills.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound weaving through the flurry of snowflakes dancing in the air.

“I don’t know,” you said, grinning. “I think you pull it off.”

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, his smirk playful now. “You think the ghostly Christmas tree look is working for me?”

You nodded. “It’s definitely… unique,” you said, your voice warm.

He just looked at you, and the playful smirk softened into something quieter. “Thanks,” he said, his voice gentle. “For… you know. Staying.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you replied, your words coming out a little softer than you expected. “I wanted to.”

Phantom’s expression grew thoughtful again. He landed with his feet on the ground and took a small step closer.

“I should probably let you get home,” he said, though he didn’t move to leave. “It’s freezing for you out here.”

“It is,” you admitted, though you weren’t ready for this to end. “But… I don’t mind.”

He smiled at that, it felt like the weight in his eyes had lifted just a little.

“Me neither,” he said quietly.

As the snow continued to fall around you, you realized you could stay in this moment forever.

“But really, you should go home,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I don’t mind the cold—it’s kind of… my thing. You know, my core stuff.”

He didn’t mean it as a joke, but something about the awkward way he said it made you laugh anyway, the sound slipping out before you could stop yourself.

Your laughter rang out, catching him off guard. He blinked at you, his green eyes wide, and for a moment, he looked almost shy.

“What?” he asked, his lips twitching as though he might smile again.

“It’s just… the way you said that,” you managed between giggles. “Core stuff? Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Hey!” he said, his voice lifting, kind of mock-offended. “I thought it sounded cool. Ghostly. Mysterious. Y’know?”

You shook your head, still smiling, and he crossed his arms over his chest, pretending to pout. But then, just as you were about to reply, a gust of wind rushed past, carrying with it a drift of snowflakes.

A sharp cracking sound echoed harsh through the air, and your gaze snapped upward just in time to see a large branch, heavy with snow, splintering above you.

“Look out!” Phantom’s voice was sharp and urgent.

In a blur of white and cheerful lights, he rushed forward, his arms wrapping around you as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. The world tilted, snow swirling around you in a dizzying haze, and you felt the rush of cold air as he carried you higher, away from the falling branch.

It crashed into the ground below with a dull thud, sending up a puff of snow, but you barely noticed. Your breath caught as you realized you were hovering in midair, his arms secure around your waist, his bright aura wrapping you in soft light.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice so close now, his concern evident as he looked down at you.

You nodded, your heart pounding from both the near-miss and the sudden realization of how close he was. “Y—yeah,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

The snow continued to fall around you, catching in his white-snow hair and glowing faintly in the light of his aura. His green eyes searched yours, and you felt warmth bloom in your chest despite the freezing air.

“You didn’t have to—” you started, but he cut you off with a small, crooked smile.

“Of course I did,” he said simply.

The honesty in his voice made your breath hitch, and you realized how much he cared—not only about saving people, but also you.

Slowly, he descended, lowering you gently back to the ground. His arms lingered for a moment longer than necessary before he finally stepped back, his aura fading slightly as he smiled down at you.

“You should really go home now,” he said softly, his tone teasing but warm. “Before I have to rescue you from something else.”

You laughed, your heart still racing, and nodded. “Okay. But… thank you.”

He shrugged, his smile turning lopsided. “It’s what I do.”

You hesitated, your gaze lingering on his for a moment longer, and then, impulsively, you reached out, brushing a bit of snow from his shoulder. His eyes widened slightly, and you swore you saw the faintest hint of a blush on his face.

“Happy holidays, Phantom,” you said softly, your voice filled with warmth.

“Happy holidays,” he replied, his voice quiet and echoed, but sincere.

And with that, he shot up into the air, disappearing into the swirling snowflakes. You stood there, your heart still fluttering, and smiled to yourself.

Maybe the holidays weren’t so bad after all this time.

——————— ⋆⁺₊❅.

🎵 “I want you to know, that I’m never leaving, ‘cause I’m Mister Snow, ‘til death will be freezing. You are my home, my home for all seasons, so come on, lets go. — My snowman and me.” 🎵

——————— ⋆⁺₊❅.

Some fluff? I don’t know. First time trying the you-POV (second person). Written in the quiet hours when I should’ve been sleeping… insomnia is kicking hard.

——————— ⋆⁺₊❅.

Single shots from the art:

I was a bit lazy with the line art again… but here we are. I think I might be getting closer to finding my style—though I’m not entirely sure yet. If I weren’t feeling so lazy and depressed at the moment, I know this could’ve turned out better…

[thedemoninme141]

Not a bad Christmas (set in the "Not a bad day" universe)

Summary: Wednesday ended up as your "Secret Santa".

Theme: FLUFF!

Parings: Wednesday Addams & Female Reader Wordcount: 5.8k. Set in the "before dating" period

Warnings: JealousWednesday!!! Cringe Fluff?

(A/n: I know the next chapter was supposed to be in "after dating" period but I felt like it would be better in "before dating" period.)

“I am SO excited!” Enid declared, her voice loud enough to draw glances from neighboring tables. She didn’t care. "You guys, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment."

"For breakfast?" Yoko asked dryly, sipping her coffee.

"No, for this!"Enid gestured dramatically, nearly knocking over her juice. "The Christmas party! You all know Principal Weems put me in charge this year, right?"

"You’ve mentioned it," Bianca said with sarcasm. "Maybe only a hundred times."

Eugene adjusted his glasses, looking genuinely intrigued. "What’s the big deal about this year's Christmas party?"

"Eugene, it’s not just a big deal. It’s the biggest deal!" Enid leaned in, her voice dropping as she whispered "I pitched an idea to Principal Weems that is going to make this the most amazing, unforgettable Christmas party ever!"

"What’s the idea?" Eugene asked,

"I’m not telling!" Enid sing-songed. "It’s a surprise! Weems might even announce it today."

“If it’s not as groundbreaking as you’re hyping it up to be, we’re going to riot.” Bianca said dryly.

“I can handle the pressure!” Enid declared, “I was born for this. And besides, Christmas is my favorite holiday. It’s sparkly and cheerful, and everyone gets to come together! It’s the one time of year people have no excuse to be grumpy.”

Wednesday’s dark gaze flicked to Enid, a sarcastic remark brewing on her tongue. However, she bit it back, opting instead for a slow sip of coffee. Grumpy? She could name a dozen reasons why grumpiness was not only justified but necessary—especially during a holiday that encouraged excessive sentimentality. She glanced sideways at you, seated just beside Enid, you looked intrigued. Great.

She didn’t need her visions to predict that whatever Enid had in store would be an exercise in torture for her, and likely for everyone else. She hoped she would be able to ignore it, maybe stay locked in her room during Christmas but then, there was you... who just glanced back at her, giving a warm smile.

Wednesday quickly looked away, back at her food... oh wait she was done eating.

Why did you smile at her like that? Why did her heart just skip a beat? Why did her stomach twist into knots at your smile?

“Wednesday!” Enid’s voice cutting through her reverie.

“What?”

“I said, aren’t you so excited for the announcement?” Enid beamed at her, completely oblivious to Wednesday’s growing annoyance.

“Thrilled,” Wednesday deadpanned, “Nothing brings me more joy than waiting for yet another banal attempt at forced merriment.”

Enid pouted. “Come on, don’t be such a Grinch. This is going to be so fun! Right?” She nudged you with her elbow, seeking validation.

You chuckled softly, nodding. “It’ll be fun, Enid. I’m sure whatever you’ve planned is going to blow everyone away.”

“See? At least someone believes in- Oh, Weems is here!"

The din of student conversation gradually quieted as Weems stepped into the center of the quad, her presence commanding attention.

"Good morning, everyone," Weems began, her voice clear and authoritative. "As you all know, the holiday season is upon us. This year, we aim to celebrate with a bit more… normalcy, after last year’s unfortunate events." Her eyes flicked briefly toward Wednesday, who met her gaze with a defiant smirk. Unfortunate? Maybe. Enjoyable? Yes.

Weems cleared her throat. "To that end, I’m pleased to announce a new tradition for our Nevermore Christmas celebration: a Secret Santa gift exchange!"

The announcement was met with a collective groan from the students.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Yoko muttered. "Ugh, I hate shopping for other people," Bianca complained

"What if we just… don’t do it?" someone called out from another table.

Weems’ smile tightened, her patience visibly waning. "Participation is mandatory. Each student will draw a name at random later today and will be expected to provide a thoughtful, appropriate gift."

"This is absurd," Wednesday declared, her tone icy. "Forcing us to partake in such a vacuous activity only reinforces the notion that conformity is more valued than individuality."

"Oh, come on, Wednesday," Enid said, her excitement undiminished. "It’ll be fun! You might get something you like."

"Doubtful," Wednesday retorted. "Unless my Secret Santa has access to poison or medieval torture devices or a collection of preserved organs or..."

Your giggle interrupted her, earning a sharp glance from Wednesday. "You know, it’s not that bad," you said, leaning slightly toward her. "Maybe you’ll get something one of those things."

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. "Hightly unlikely"

Enid, meanwhile, was practically bouncing in her seat. "I can’t wait to see who I get! This is going to be amazing!"

"Amazing for you," Bianca said dryly. "For the rest of us? Not so much."

Weems raised her hand for silence. "That will be all for now. The details of the exchange will be posted later today. I trust you all will approach this with the spirit of the season in mind." Wednesday wants to summon a sprit to haunt that excuse of a principal.

With that, Weems turned and strode away, leaving the quad to devolve once more into hushed complaints and reluctant acceptance. Enid turned to you, her eyes sparkling.

"This is going to be SO GREAT!" she said, grabbing your arm. "I already have, like, a million gift ideas. What about you? Are you excited?"

You smiled, glancing briefly at Wednesday, whose scowl had deepened even more as if that was even possible. "I think it’ll be… interesting."

"Interesting?" Enid repeated. "It’ll be fantastic! Secret Santa could be a good bonding activity.” Enid said, her chipper tone grating against Wednesday’s mood.

“I’d rather bond with a guillotine,” Wednesday muttered as the group started gathering their things for class. Enid, still beaming with unrelenting excitement about the Secret Santa announcement, latched onto Wednesday’s arm, chattering nonstop about potential gift ideas and how this year’s Christmas party would outshine any before it. Wednesday, for her part, thought about finding whoever this Santa Claus is and putting an end to him.

Entering the classroom, Wednesday took her usual seat and Enid plopped into the chair beside her. You were just a few seats ahead, settling into your spot. The seat next to you, tantalizingly empty…

Nate? Nick? or whatever his forgettable name was appeared in the doorway. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the empty seat beside you. He brightened instantly, taking a step forward as though he were about to claim it.

Then his gaze shifted to Wednesday.

Wednesday’s expression remained perfectly neutral, except for the sharp, unmistakable intensity in her dark eyes. She didn’t flinch, didn’t speak. She simply stared at him.

The boy froze mid-step, his face paling. His eyes flicked to the faint burns on his hand, still healing from the “accidental” cocoa incident at the ugly sweater party.

“Oh, hell no,” he muttered under his breath, spinning on his heel and fast-walking to a corner seat as far away from Wednesday as possible.

The scene would’ve pleased Wednesday had it not been for the way you glanced back at her, curious and faintly confused. She quickly diverted her gaze, feigning interest in the carved graffiti on her desk.

Moments later, Bianca came in. Her eyes immediately landed on the empty seat beside you. She started walking toward it, only to pause midway. Instead of sitting there, she veered toward Enid and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Enid,” Bianca said smoothly “mind switching seats with me?”

Enid’s face lit up. “Of course! You can sit here! I can sit next to Y/N!” She began gathering her things without hesitation, practically skipping to the seat beside you.

Bianca slid into Enid’s vacated spot,

“You are not wanted here,” Wednesday said icily, her tone as sharp as a blade.

Bianca rolled her eyes. “Relax, Addams. I’m not here for your sparkling personality. I just figured sitting here was safer.”

“Safer? Why would sitting beside "me" would be safer?” Wednesday’s tone turned even colder.

Bianca smirked. “Please, as if we haven’t noticed how you practically plot murders in your head for anyone who gets too close to Y/N.”

Wednesday’s spine straightened, her glare intensifying. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, spare me the denial,” Bianca said dismissively. “Enid is safe from your wrath because, well… she’s Enid. But me? Let’s just say I care too much about my life to be a victim of your jealousy.”

“I am not jealous,” Wednesday hissed, her voice low but venomous.

“Uh-huh.” Bianca gave her a knowing look before turning her attention to the front of the room, clearly enjoying herself.

Wednesday’s hands clenched into fists beneath the desk, her dark eyes flitting back to you. You were laughing softly at something Enid had said, your smile so warm it could melt snow. Wednesday felt a strange mix of frustration and longing twist in her chest. How could someone like you affect her so profoundly without even trying?

“Alright, class,” the teacher finally announced, setting down her book with a flourish, “we’re ending a little early today because it’s time to find out who your Secret Santa recipient will be!”

“Yes! Finally!” Enid exclaimed, bouncing in her seat like a hyperactive puppy.

Wednesday’s gaze shifted to the front of the room, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. A new wave of dread crept into her mind. This was it, the moment she’d been dreading since Weems’s announcement.

“Each of you will receive a small box. Inside that box is the name of the person you’ll be playing Secret Santa for." The teacher said, "Miss Sinclair, I believe you have the materials?”

“Oh! Yes, one sec!” Enid practically bolted from her chair, nearly toppling it in her haste. She sped out of the room in a blur of rainbows🌈🌈🌈, leaving everyone staring after her.

Wednesday felt like it hadn't even been 5 secs before Enid burst back into the classroom with a large, overly festive box clutched in her arms.

“Ta-da!” she declared, dropping the box onto the teacher’s desk with an audible thud.

Several students groaned at the display.

“Why is it so… glittery?” The teacher asked.

“It’s Christmas!” Enid replied, as if that explained everything. She opened the larger box to reveal an assortment of tiny boxes, each neatly wrapped and tied with red ribbons. “Pretty, right?”

Wednesday arched an eyebrow. “If you mean ‘pretty excessive,’ then yes.”

Enid ignored her, already grabbing a smaller box. “Okay, so I’ll start handing these out! Bianca, wanna help?”

Bianca sighed but stood anyway, muttering, “Might as well get this over with.”

The two of them began pulling out the tiny boxes, reading the names written on them, and distributing them around the room. Students grumbled their thanks, some reluctantly and others with mild curiosity as they turned the boxes over in their hands.

When Enid finally reached Wednesday, her excitement was still at an all-time high. “Here you go, Wends!” She thrust the small box toward her.

Though Enid had wrapped the box with black paper, Wednesday stared at the box as though it might explode. She took it with her usual reluctance, her fingers brushing against the ribbon’s texture.

With deliberate slowness, Wednesday pulled the ribbon loose, lifted the lid, and peered inside.

Hopefully, it would be someone she loathed. The possibilities were endless: a smug siren, an irritating vampire, or perhaps even that one werewolf who insisted on howling every full moon at midnight since she wolfed out. Yes, she could relish the challenge of giving them the worst, most spiteful gift imaginable.

But luck had a way of avoiding her at the worst times.

The name on the slip of paper felt like a slap in the face.

Curse you, Enid Sinclair.

Y/N L/N.

Her stomach dropped. Of all the names. Of all the cursed possibilities.

Wednesday’s chest tightened. This was a disaster.

Being your Secret Santa meant she’d have to think about you even more than she already did. She’d have to choose a gift, something meaningful, something that wouldn’t betray the tangled mess of emotions she felt whenever you were near. She couldn’t risk exposing herself, couldn’t let you know how much you affected her.

And yet, a small, treacherous part of her was… excited. The thought of giving you something, of seeing your reaction, was almost enough to outweigh her dread. Almost.

Her jaw clenched. No. She couldn’t let this ridiculous tradition get to her. She’d find the most generic, impersonal gift possible and be done with it. That was the only way to survive this.

But as she watched you lean back in your chair, your gaze flickering toward her with a curious smile, Wednesday felt her resolve waver.

This was going to be the longest Christmas of her life.

Enid practically hop-skipped down the hall as she clutched a small notebook filled with ideas for Eugene’s Secret Santa gift to her chest. She was going to be the best Secret Santa ever.  

"Maybe I can knit him a bee-themed scarf! Or get him a limited edition honey collection—do they even make those? I’ll make it happen!"

She pushed the door open to their shared dorm room, fully expecting to see Wednesday brooding on her typewriter or reading some obscure book about medieval torture methods. Instead, she froze mid-step.

"Wednesday… what the hell is this?"

Wednesday had her cursed investigation board back out, its surface covered in a chaotic mess of photos, red strings, and notes. At first glance, it looked like Wednesday was solving another gruesome murder in the woods.

Enid’s pulse quickened. "Oh no, no, no. What happened now? Did some monster claw its way out of the woods again?"

Wednesday didn’t immediately respond. She was too engrossed in pinning another photo to the board, her expression dark with concentration. Enid’s eyes scanned the board, her heart pounding as she prepared for the worst. But then her gaze landed on the pictures.

Your pictures...

Not once, not twice, but in multiple photos. Some candid shots of you laughing in the quad, others from a class project presentation, even one blurry photo of you reading in the library. There were sticky notes around them, though the handwriting was too small for Enid to make out. She blinked, her mouth falling open.

“Wednesday,” she began cautiously “what is this? What did Y/N do?”

Finally, Wednesday turned her head to look at Enid, her expression unreadable, clearly annoyed at the interruption. “Y/N did nothing.”

“Then why... why is she all over your investigation board?! Are you trying to prove she’s some kind of secret villain or something? Because I’m telling you, Wednesday, Y/N is, like, the nicest person I know.”

Without a word, Wednesday plucked a folded slip of paper from her desk and shoved it into Enid’s hands. Enid unfolded it and read the name written in sharp, neat letters.

Y/N L/N.

The realization dawned on Enid almost instantly. Her lips parted, forming an "O" of understanding. "Ohhhhh," she said, drawing the sound out like a squeaky balloon. "You’re her Secret Santa!"

"Astute observation," Wednesday deadpanned, crossing her arms.

Enid’s eyes darted back to the board, her previous panic replaced with intrigue. "So, is this—?"

"Yes," Wednesday interrupted with a sigh, "This is… research."

"Research?" Enid echoed, "Wednesday, this is borderline stalking. You don’t need an entire murder board to pick out a gift!"

Wednesday’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t respond. Her gaze flicked back to the board.

Enid’s eyes scanned the chaotic collage again, only to land on a picture of another student, a girl... Darcy? Enid remembers. Unlike the others, this photo had a bright red circle drawn around it.

"Uh, Wednesday?" Enid said cautiously, pointing at the circled picture. "Why is Darcy on here?"

Wednesday’s response was immediate and emotionless. "That girl is Y/N’s nemesis. I thought perhaps eliminating her would be an appropriate gift."

Enid gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Nemesis? What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Darcy spilled coffee on Y/n." Wednesday said flatly.

“Spilled Coffee??!!” Enid repeated, her voice rising in disbelief. “Darcy spilled coffee on Y/N six months ago. By accident! And she apologized, like, a hundred times.”

“Same thing,” Wednesday said, her tone indifferent.

"Alright alright. Lets take it down a bit. Have you tried thinking about something normal? Maybe a book." Enid asked shrugging.

Wednesday glared at Enid. “A book? How unimaginative. I refuse to insult her intelligence with something so pedestrian.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to help,” Enid shot back. "How about you tell me the list of what you have considered."

“A taxidermy specimen,” Wednesday offered.

“Dial it back.”

“An antique dagger that captures the souls of its victim.”

“No, that's... wait... does that actually exist?”

“A preserved tarantula.”

“Wednesday!” Enid groaned, throwing her head back. “You can’t give her something creepy! You’ll scare her off!”

Wednesday’s expression darkened, and she muttered under her breath, “It’s better than being dull.”

“Look,” Enid said, stepping closer and placing a hand on Wednesday’s shoulder. “I get it, okay? You like her. Like, really like her. And that’s scary and new to you, I get it. But you’re making this way harder than it needs to be. Just think about what would make her smile. That’s all that matters.”

Wednesday’s gaze softened, her usual sharp retort dying on her lips. She glanced at the board one more time, her mind swirling with uncertainty. “What if… I choose wrong?”

Enid smiled gently. “You won’t. You know her better than you think.”

Wednesday didn’t argue. But as she looked back at the pictures of you... and that smile. Maybe the answer really was simple.

And so, she found herself standing at the edge of the quad.  her dark eyes surveying the chaos.

She held the small box in her hand, its contents weighing far more heavily on her mind than its actual physical mass. The box was simple plain black, tied with a thin crimson ribbon.

This was idiotic. Completely, utterly idiotic.

Ridiculous, she thought, glancing down at the gift. Why should this be any different from any other calculated gesture?

But it was different. You made it different.

She inhaled deeply, the cold air filling her lungs before she began her measured descent into the quad. Her steps were deliberate, slow.

Around her, students chatted and mingled and she felt their eyes occasionally drift toward her, as they always did, but tonight, she barely noticed. Her focus was elsewhere.

You.

Wednesday spotted you almost instantly. You were seated at one of the circular tables near the center of the quad, surrounded by her circle of idiots. Each of them had their gifts piled near their chairs, wrapped in colorful paper that made Wednesday inwardly puke. There was something almost unsettling about seeing you like this.

Enid whispered something to you and you smiled but, that smile didn't quite reach your eyes. Your usual brightness was dimmed tonight, replaced with an air of... nervousness? Contemplation? Whatever it was, it made her chest tighten in a way she didn’t entirely understand.

As she neared the table, Enid was the first to notice her. The werewolf’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Wednesday! You made it!” Enid’s voice rang out, drawing the attention of the entire table.

Your eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, the noise around her faded. The nervousness in your expression softened slightly, replaced by something gentler. You offered a small, shy smile that sent an unfamiliar warmth spreading through Wednesday’s chest. She quickly averted her gaze, clearing her throat as she reached the table.

"Of course, she made it," Bianca drawled, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. "Our personal Christmas Grinch wouldn’t miss the chance to haunt us while we are trying to have some fun."

Wednesday’s gaze snapped to Bianca, her dark eyes narrowing. "If I wanted to haunt you, Bianca, I’d do it with far more creativity than attending this… overdecorated spectacle."

"Overdecorated spectacle? Some of us put effort into this, you know." Enid pouted "Well at least you came, so come on, have a seat!" Enid said brightening up again as she patted the empty seat beside her.

Reluctantly, Wednesday slid into the offered seat, her posture as stiff as ever. She placed the box on her lap, keeping it hidden from view, her fingers resting on the ribbon as if to reassure herself it was still there.

"Hot cocoa?" Eugene offered, holding out a steaming mug.

"No," Wednesday replied flatly, her eyes darting briefly to you. She doesn't need to burn anyone. For now.

You glanced up then, your gaze meeting hers for a fleeting moment before you quickly looked away, a faint blush dusting your cheeks. Wednesday’s stomach twisted at the sight, though she couldn’t pinpoint why.

You reached for your drink and for a moment, you seemed lost in thought again. Your brow furrowed ever so slightly, and your gaze drifted to the flickering lights above. Wednesday's eyes narrowed as she observed you, her mind racing to decode the emotions playing across your face.

Were you nervous? Sad? Or perhaps simply tired of the holiday cheer? Was it the Secret Santa event? Did you draw someone you weren’t fond of?

Who had you drawn? And what had you chosen for them? The thought unsettled her more than it should have. A fleeting image of you selecting a thoughtful gift for someone else sent a sharp pang of irritation through her. You, holding a gift, your face bright with anticipation as you presented it to some undeserving fool.

Perhaps that girl you’d partnered with in herbology last week or the one who lingered too long near your station, or the one who asked you on a dance in the ugly sweater party... maybe she would need to burn someone after all.

Before she could spiral further into her thoughts she felt the chatter quiet almost instantly and Wednesday didn't bother looking at the stage.

“Good evening, everyone,” Weems began, her voice carrying effortlessly over the crowd. “I’m delighted to see so many of you here tonight, embracing the spirit of the season”

Wednesday suppressed a groan, straightening in her chair but not bothering to feign interest.

Weems continued, her smile widening as she surveyed the gathering. “This year has been relatively… uneventful.” She hesitated just a fraction of a second, her gaze lingering momentarily on Wednesday before moving on. “For which I am profoundly grateful.”

That earned a few chuckles from the crowd, and Wednesday’s lips twitched in faint irritation. Uneventful? That was certainly one way to describe it. From monsters lurking in the woods and unraveling a centuries-old conspiracy to.... brooding. Yeah.. that's what Wednesday found herself doing last year... Was Bianca right about her brooding all the time?  

She should’ve hated this year, every day of it. It was, by all accounts, actually uneventful. The monotony alone should’ve driven her mad.

But it hadn’t.

And she knew exactly why.

Her gaze flicked back to you, almost involuntarily. You were still seated, your hands now wrapped around your cup as you leaned closer to Enid, nodding along to whatever trivial nonsense she was whispering in your ear. You didn’t look extraordinary, not in the conventional sense. Your sweater was unassuming. And yet, to Wednesday, you radiated something inexplicably magnetic.

It was because of you.

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around the ribbon of the box in her lap, her thoughts momentarily scattered. She should have hated this year, loathed it for its lack of intellectual stimulation and excitement. But no matter how much she tried, that hatred never came.

Because of you.

She sighed, a sound barely audible even to herself, and returned her attention to Weems, who was still mid-speech. “This year has proved what Nevermore can be,” Weems declared, her tone resolute. “A place of growth and of potential. As we stand on the brink of a new year, let us carry forward the bonds we’ve strengthened here tonight.” Weems’ gaze swept over the gathered students, lingering briefly on Wednesday, as if daring her to contradict the sentiment. Wednesday met her gaze with a neutral expression, unwilling to give the principal the satisfaction of any visible reaction.

“And so,” Weems concluded, her voice warm yet authoritative, “let us feast, celebrate, and look forward to the possibilities that lie ahead. Happy holidays, my dear students.” A polite smattering of applause followed, and Weems stepped back, gesturing toward the long tables laden with food at the edge of the quad. The students began to stir, rising from their seats and drifting toward the table.

From her seat, Wednesday found herself observing Enid tearing into her food, a sight both grotesque and vaguely amusing.

“Enid, you’re one drumstick away from wolfing out right here.” Bianca quipped from across the table.

Enid shot Bianca a pointed look, her cheeks already puffed out like a chipmunk’s from the food she was furiously chewing. Swallowing with a dramatic gulp, she said, “Hey! It’s not my fault everything tastes so good! And for your information, I was busy all day! You think this whole event planned itself?”

Wednesday barely registered the conversation, her dark eyes fixed on her untouched plate. The food, no matter how well-prepared or fragrant, was irrelevant to her. Her mind churned with far more pressing matters.

The gift.

The prospect of giving you the gift in front of everyone at the table was a particular source of dread. She was not one for public displays, especially when it came to something as vulnerable as this. What if they mocked her choice? Worse, what if you did?

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around the box, her knuckles whitening. She refused to entertain that thought any longer. No. You wouldn’t mock her. You weren’t like the others.

You were kind... loving and you weren't... at the table?

Her heart skipped a beat as she scanned the immediate area. You were nowhere in sight. The seat you had occupied moments ago was empty, your plate still half-full. Wednesday’s brow furrowed, a sliver of unease creeping in.

Where had you gone? She hadn’t seen you leave. Had she been so lost in her own head that she missed it?

And then she saw it—a small piece of paper resting just beside her plate. Her brows furrowed as she reached for it, unfolding it with deliberate care. The handwriting was unmistakable.

Meet me near the fountain.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Wednesday’s lips, unbidden but not unwelcome. Of course, it was you. Who else would have the audacity to summon her like this?

She folded the note carefully and tucked it into her pocket before rising to her feet.

Enid paused mid-bite “Where are you going? You barely touched your food!”

Wednesday didn't bother answering as she made her way through the crowd. Each step felt deliberate, measured. Her grip tightened around the small box in her hand as she approached the pathway leading to the fountain, her mind already racing.

What would she say when she saw you? Would she hand over the gift without a word, letting the gesture speak for itself? Or would she attempt something more... personal? Words weren’t her forte, especially not when it came to feelings. And yet, with you, words seemed both inadequate and entirely necessary.

And there you were.

Sitting on the bench, your back straight but your posture relaxed, you stared ahead at the frozen fountain.

For the briefest moment, Wednesday froze. Her mind, usually a whirl of calculated plans and sharp observations, was disturbingly blank. You looked so...you.

Finally, she took a breath, steady and controlled, and stepped forward.

You must have heard her approach because you turned your head just as she reached the bench.

Your eyes found hers.

That smile, the same smile. that had marked its place in... her unnecessary blood-pumping machine they called "heart". There was something different about it this time, though. It wasn’t the shy or nervous smile from earlier. It was warm, inviting, and... knowing. As if you had been waiting for her all along.

You patted the empty space beside you. “Sit.”

Wednesday hesitated for only a second before lowering herself onto the bench. She glanced at you from the corner of her eye, noting the way you rested your hands in your lap, your fingers brushing against one another absentmindedly. You were close, closer than she realized, and the proximity was enough to make her hyperaware of her every movement.

How does one start something like this? She had rehearsed no fewer than twenty scenarios in her mind, yet now, sitting here beside you, they all felt insufficient.

“Do you believe in fate, Wednesday?”

The question caught her off guard. She turned her head to look at you fully, her brow furrowing as she considered your words.

“Fate?” she repeated, her tone skeptical. “The idea that our lives are predetermined by some cosmic force?”

You nodded, your gaze unwavering.

“Fate,” she repeated, her tone contemplative. “A concept often romanticized but rarely substantiated. It implies predestination, a lack of autonomy, which I find… unsatisfactory.”

You chuckled softly, the sound light and modest, yet it sent a ripple through her. “That’s a very Wednesday answer,”.

“And what would your answer be?” she countered, her gaze steady on you.

“I think,” you began, your eyes returning to the fountain, “that fate isn’t about things being preordained. It’s about moments, little choices that lead us to places we never expected to be. Like… sitting here, tonight, with you.”

Her chest tightened, the weight of your words pressing against her usual walls of detachment. You had a way of saying things that left no room for deflection, no safe harbor for her to retreat to.

“Perhaps,” she said after a pause, her voice quieter, “fate is less about inevitability and more about… alignment. An intersection of paths.”

You tilted your head, considering her words, and then smiled. “I like that.”

The silence returned, but this time, it felt warmer, less daunting. You shifted slightly, your shoulder brushing against hers, a small, fleeting touch that sent a spark of something unfamiliar coursing through her.

“There’s something I need to give you,” she said finally, her voice steady but softer than usual.

You turned to her, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “Oh?”

She held the box out toward you, her movements precise but tinged with an underlying hesitation.

"You are my secret santa?" Your lips quirked into a teasing smile as you accepted the box. “I hope it’s not a tarantula,” you joked.

“It’s not,” she replied flatly.

You untied the ribbon carefully, your fingers deliberate as you removed the lid. Inside was a glass globe, delicate and intricately crafted. In the center stood two shadowy figures, featureless yet unmistakably human, lost in their own world, but at peace.

Your fingers hovered over the small button at the base of the globe. With a curious glance at Wednesday, you pressed it.

The soft melody of the piano that played was instantly recognizable. Your eyes widened, and you turned to her.

Your breath hitched as you glanced at her. “Wednesday, is this...?”

“The ugly sweater party night,” she finished for you, her eyes flicked back to the globe, unable to meet yours. “A memory. One I thought you should have, too.”

Your smile was radiant, and for the first time, she felt as though she had done something right, truly right.

And then you snapped your fingers.

A small, glowing purple portal materialized in the air, swirling and pulsating with quiet energy. You reached into it, your movements unhurried, and pulled out a rectangular box wrapped in deep blood-red paper. The portal vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, leaving no trace behind.

So, you could conjure portals. That explained how you’d managed to place the note near her earlier without her noticing, a feat she had, until this moment, deemed improbable. You possessed a skill that defied logic and simplicity, and though she hated to admit it, she was impressed.

You held the box out toward her, “I am your Secret Santa too, Wednesday,” you said, your voice light, a trace of mischief dancing on your lips. “Talk about fate, huh?”

Wednesday tilted her head ever so slightly, her dark eyes flicking between you and the box now resting in your lap. "I am skeptical of calling it fate. A calculated scheme seems more acceptable.”  ENID.

Slowly, she reached out and took the box, its weight heavier than she anticipated. You watched her with quiet anticipation, she tore away the paper, revealing a wooden case beneath. Her brow furrowed slightly as she opened the case, her breath catching the moment her eyes fell upon the contents.

Inside was a dagger, encased in glass, its blade gleaming even in the dim light of the fountain. But this wasn’t just any dagger.

The hilt was ornate, at its base, a ruby-red gemstone sat nestled within the design, pulsing faintly as though alive. The blade itself was thin, wickedly sharp, and etched with complicated patterns A faint inscription ran along its length in a language she recognized as Hungarian.

Her eyes widened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a genuine, real smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. She recognized this blade instantly.

“Elizabeth Báthory’s dagger,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The infamous serial killer of the 1600s, known for her brutal methods and rumored vampiric tendencies, had wielded this blade. Legends spoke of its dark history, of how it was used to drain the blood of her victims.

“How did you get this?” she asked, her voice low, almost adoring.

You shrugged lightly. “I have my ways.”

Wednesday’s gaze returned to the dagger, her fingers brushing against the glass casing as if to confirm its reality. Her mind raced with the implications of the gift, not just its historical significance, but what it meant coming from you.

You had given her something she cherished, not for its material value, but for what it represented.

You saw her. Not the façade she presented to the world, but the depths of her being, the parts most people recoiled from or misunderstood.

You didn’t shy away from the darkness that fascinated her; instead, you embraced it, honored it even, cared for it... cared for her...

The weight of that realization settled over her, mingling with an unfamiliar warmth that she didn’t know how to name.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice you leaning closer until your head rested gently on her shoulder.

She froze.

Her gaze flicked to you briefly. You were gazing down at the globe in your lap, the soft melody still playing. Her eyes returned to the dagger. She allowed herself a small, almost imperceptible sigh, her gaze fixed on the ruby gemstone embedded in the dagger’s hilt.

Not a bad Christmas. Not bad at all.

Wanted to post this in Christmas night... but finished early. Comment how you guys liked it!

Also comment what you would've given Wednesday as her secret santa.

->WORKLIST<-

[happilyhertale]

Captured Moments – Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: Daemon has to go on a business trip again. You hate it every time he leaves you alone for a long time. But to make his alone time special, you plan to make him a little film.

Pairing: Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Fingering; Dirty Talk; Sex (p in v)

Author’s note:

This is my last story for this year's Smuffmas Challenge. It was great fun creating all these little stories and reading your comments on my stories. Thanks for reading!

I hope you'll also like my last Daemon story.

Word count: 2.2 k

Other stories of mine

12 Days of Smuffmas

12 Days of Smuff

Daemon is a man of many complexities. With the sleek, tailored suits he wore to business meetings, you almost forget that there is a certain fire beneath his cool exterior. He isn’t the kind of man to show his emotions easily, nor was he the type to stand still when there is a task to be done. But when he is with you, all of that seems to melt away.

But now, you are facing the reality of his business trip. The one he has to leave for so soon. You don‘t know how long he’d be gone, and that is the hardest part. He would normally give you exact dates and let you in on his plans. Usually to rant about his business partners. But this time, he didn't know how long he would be gone. And you hated it. You hate the uncertainty, you hate the distance that it created. And yet you know he has no choice. Duty, work, all of it… it doesn't make it any easer though.

You are in your bedroom now, your mind racing. The soft lighting in the room creats a sensual atmosphere, and as you gaze at the old camera on the dresser, the thought of giving Daemon a farewell gift consumes you. You aren’t the type to be overtly emotional, but this is different. You want to leave a piece of you with him, something tangible. Something to make him smile when he is far away.

You move to the bed, your fingers grazing the smooth silk sheets. Carefully, you strip out of your clothes, leaving only your lingerie—a white lace that clings to your skin, accentuating your curves. You aren’t trying to seduce him in the usual way; no, this is different. This is something deeper. You are offering him a part of yourself, a memory of you when the distance felt too much to bear.

You take a deep breath, adjusting the camera just so, making sure it has the right angle. This is the first time you are doing something like this, and a slight nervousness creeps in. But you push it down, telling yourself that Daemon would love it. After all, he appreciates the unconventional, the unexpected. You are certain this would be something that would make him smile when he was alone in some hotel room, far away.

The camera rolls as you lie back, eyes fluttering close for a moment as you imagine his reaction. You shift slightly, adjusting your position, arching your back slightly so the lace clung to you even more. You want him to feel your presence when he watches this. You want to be in his thoughts, every moment, every second.

What you didn’t realize was that Daemon was already closer than you thought.

Daemon is walking down the hallway when he hears a faint sound. He knows you are in the bedroom, but he hadn't expected this. Curiosity draws him closer, each step silent as he approaches the door. He peers through the crack, his heart beating slightly faster as he sees you lying there on the bed, dressed in nothing but lace and silk, the camera trained on you.

He grins. The look on your face—soft, sensual, and unaware—make something deep inside him stir. You have no idea he is watching.

His breathing slows as he leans against the doorframe, unable to avert his gaze. The way you move, the way the fabric of your underwear caresses your body, it's like a slow, seductive dance just for him. His eyes take in every detail, the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the softness of your skin, without you noticing his presence. He feels his desire stirring, his length twitching.

Daemon is just standing in the doorway watching you. Your eyes are closed as your fingers glide over your body and you sigh softly. Do you imagine that they are his fingers? He feels his member twitch slightly again, but he just watches you. Your fingers glide over the fabric of your panties and you sigh again. You press against the fabric and he knows you are pressing against your bundle of nerves. Your hips move slightly as your fingers glide over the fabric in circles. The camera captures everything, every sigh and soft whimper as your fingers pick up speed.

He knows it is wrong to just stand there, to not make his presence known, but a thrill ran through him. He lets himself enjoy the moment—before stepping forward, slowly, deliberately.

With a deep breath, Daemon walks into the room, his footsteps silent as he approachs the bed. They haven't noticed him yet, but the air has changed as soon as he walks further into the room.

The cool confidence in his stride, the intensity of his presence—it is impossible to ignore. Slowly, he enters the room and watches you closely, but you don't notice. “Are you already preparing for my absence?“ His deep voice suddenly sounds. Your eyes flutter open and you gasp, "Daemon!" You sit up slightly and breathe a little heavily. “No, no... don't let me disturb you, go on,” he encourages you with a small smile around his lips.

“I wanted it to be a surprise for you!“ you pout a little. “Oh believe me, this is a surprise,“ he says and starts to unbutton his pants. “Daemon...” you start, but you can already feel the throbbing intensify between your thighs.

“And where did you dig that thing up?” he mumbles, while his pants slide down and he tilts his head in the direction of the camera. But you don't answer immediately, your attention is focused on his boxer shorts, which are already sliding towards the floor. His hardness springs free and the throbbing between your thighs becomes unbearable. You squeeze your thighs together. “I wanted you to have something to take with you on your business trip...“ you say, earning a chuckle from Daemon as you let yourself fall back onto the mattress. ”Well, I could watch a video of me keeping you company instead,“ he mumbles and crawls onto the bed. ”What...?” you start, but then you understand, “Oooh…“ you say.

But then he grabs you by the back of your knees and pulls you towards him. You let out a small squeak, but you can't stop smiling. Your legs wrap around his waist as if by themselves and you pull him closer. His scent envelops you as you press your face into his neck – his growl fills the room as he grinds his length against your core.

Your teeth dig lightly into his skin as his hip grinds against you in rhythm. His eyes flashing with primal desire,“Get them off, ” he mutters. Slowly, torturously, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and begins to drag them down your thighs, exposing your most intimate area to his hungry gaze.

He tosses your discarded underwear aside carelessly. His large hands skim up your sides, pushing your lingerie up to reveal the soft swell of your breasts.

Leaning down, he captures one pebbled nipple between his teeth, suckling and nibbling as his fingers find your slick folds, stroking teasingly. "So wet already, just for me... I bet this tight little cunt is aching to be filled, isn't it baby?".

You just whimper, ending in a desperate moan, your back arching slightly as Daemon teases your nipple with his teeth and tongue.

He smirks wickedly at your breathy moan, reveling in the power he holds over your pleasure. Slowly, deliberately, he sinks two long fingers knuckle-deep into your sopping wet heat, pumping them in and out at a maddeningly slow pace

"Fuck, you're dripping, babe," he groans, curling his fingers to stroke that sensitive spot inside you. "This greedy cunt is sucking me in, like it never wants to let go."

His thumb finds your clit, circling the swollen nub in tight, fast circles as he increases the speed of his thrusting fingers. Leaning down, he laves his tongue over your neglected nipple again before drawing it into his mouth to suck hard, which makes you moan.

"That's it, let me hear those pretty noises," he demands huskily against your breast.

Releasing your nipple with a wet pop, he starts trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, occasionally grazing his teeth over your racing pulse point.

"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else," he moans and you whimper in reply, your hips moving against his fingers as you want to feel him deeper inside you.

He just smirks wickedly at your wanton response, enjoying the sight of you writhing beneath him, flushed and panting with need. Sliding his two long fingers deeper inside your dripping channel, he curls them just right, rubbing against that sensitive spot within. Your pussy is dripping and you feel your walls flutter around his fingers. Daemon's teeth dig into the soft skin of your neck and you moan out again.

"Mmmm, such a responsive little thing you are," he groans approvingly, pumping his digits slowly. "Clenching so greedily around my fingers, like this greedy cunt is starving for my cock."

And in that moment, Daemon pulls his fingers out of your dripping heat. You whimper in protest and look up at him as he sits up slightly. He grins cheekily as he sees you lying there, breathing heavily and spread for him.

He fists his length in his hand, pumping it a few times, your slick on his fingers aiding the motion. You watch his long and thick manhood as he strokes it, and your pussy clenches around nothing. Even in the dim light of the room, you can see a pearly bead of liquid forming at the tip, and you bite your lip in anticipation. He grunts as he fucks his fist, biting his lip as well as his eyes roam over your naked form.

He leans down again, letting the tip slide through your pussy and you whimper again as he thrusts shallowly against your opening. You try to push your hips towards him because you finally want to feel him inside you.

A stifled groan escapes his lips as you grind your folds against his cock.

“So impatient,” he murmurs, but then he gives in and you feel the stretch. You gasp as he penetrates deeper inch by inch. He growls as he feels your pussy clench and pushes deeper. The way your walls wrap around his shaft, drawing him deeper and deeper inside until his swollen tip presses against your cervix. You're so tight and wet, you're leaking all over his cock.

He gives you a moment to adjust to his size before he slides out almost completely and then pushes into you again. His thrusts get faster and harder, making you moan and gasp. His balls slap against your ass with every powerful thrust. The tip of his cock hits your cervix with more force and you cry out slightly. The bed creaks with every movement and your back arches slightly, wanting to feel him deeper. When Daemon suddenly grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulders. You gasp and look at him, but before you can react, he slides back into your pussy. You moan and your eyes roll back into your head. Daemon growls, he feels your pussy fluttering around his cock. He thrusts deeper into your heat, leaning forward a little to make you scream. “Daemon!” you scream, and he grunts. He stretches you out, deepening the angle even more. “YES! Let me hear how deep you need it!” he grunts.

He pulls out for merely a second before slamming back in with full force, electrifying every nerve in your body and coaxing more sounds out of you. Your legs are still over his shoulder, he has a firm grip on you while he fucks hard into you. Tears form in your eyes as Daemon holds your thighs. His grunts get louder and louder as he feels your pussy start to milk his cock.

He can feel how close you are and his fingers glide to your clit. He rubs your clit wildly, playing with your clit, his fingers drenched from your slick, making you see stars while you clench hard around him. “Come on, come on my cock!” he growls and you whimper as he thrusts deeper and you can't hold back anymore. You come and feel your orgasm rush through your body as you moan. Your pussy clenching hard around his cock and he grunts. He slides in and out until he spills his hot seed within your clenching cunt. He cums hard, his cock throbbing inside you with abandon as he grunts and groans. Part of him delights in the thought of marking you, of filling you with a hot, sticky reminder of him.

His motion becomes sloppy and he growls until every drop is milked from his cock.

You are breathing heavily, your eyes are closed. Daemon lets your legs slide off his shoulders before he leans down and kisses you. Almost gently, in contrast to the previous moment. After he breaks the kiss, your eyes fall back on the camera that has captured all this. But before you can say anything, you hear Daemon's hoarse voice. “Now I have a great video for those lonely moments,” he murmurs against your skin and you giggle slightly.

[auroracalisto]

day #22: "i'll be home for christmas"

tangerine x gn!reader, 1k words a/n: i mention that you like cheese ball and when i say that, i mean this thing (this thing also says msg but i think the recipe we use has something else... idk). i hope it's not just a southern west virginia thing. it's my favorite thing at holidays. i know it looks freaky and child me used to REFUSE but these and tollhouse butter crackers... cheese ball hates to see me comin', y'all. also, did you know that "i'll be home for christmas" was initially written in regards to soldiers overseas who wouldn't be home to celebrate christmas with their loved ones? crazyy.

I'll be home for Christmas You can plan on me Please have snow and mistletoe And presents on the tree Christmas Eve'll find me Where the love light gleams I'll be home for Christmas If only in my dreams

Before you, he never truly cared for Christmas, or any holiday for that matter. It just didn't strike him as anything special. But then he met you, and it was like something within him changed. You seemed so... excited for simple things like gifts and merry-making, and by God, he'd make sure he'd make you the happiest person in the world if he could help it.

But work was work. He couldn't just avoid it, and he especially couldn't turn down suck an incredible paycheck. Hell, this job may have been difficult, but who the hell would've thought it would have lasted this long?

Typically, his jobs lasted a few days. Maybe a week or two, tops. This one was going on three weeks, and nearing Christmas. It was as if whoever this damned man had wanted him to miss Christmas—wanted him to miss the morning lying in bed with you, kissing you, making you feel like you were the only person in the world.

He didn't often hate his job, but right now? He wished he would have some cozy office job where he'd be home no matter what. Every holiday, he'd be by your side, decorating and drinking and participating in whatever merry making you wanted. Damn, he'd even try baking cookies and creating that weird cheese ball thing you'd mentioned from your childhood. It looked more like a thing that could grow legs and walk away, but he'd give anything just to be home with you. To be with you instead of sitting here growing restless with his brother grumbling on about how he wished he was home as well—not that he could blame him.

Tangerine patted his thigh with his hand and reached for his phone. He dialed your number, a frown on his lips. He sat on the edge of his hotel bed, knowing that he wouldn't be home. There'd be no way, regardless of how much he wanted to be. But he'd lie. A little white lie never hurt anyone, right?

"Hey, love," he said as soon as the receiver picked up.

"Hi, Tan," he heard your voice come through.

He smiled a bit to himself. "You, uh, doin' alright?" he asked. "Takin' care of yourself, yeah?"

Lemon glanced over at him, raising a curious eyebrow. Tangerine just waved him off with a pursed lip."

"Yeah," you said. "Tan, how's the job coming? Are you almost done?"

Your voice is soft on the receiver—must be poor service from his end.

"I miss you."

The words strike him silent for a moment. He sighed softly and closed his eyes. "Yeah, I know you do, love," he said. "I'm sorry. I'll be home soon, I promise."

"How soon?" you asked.

"I'm aimin' for Christmas Eve," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. He could hear Lemon protesting the little lie, but Tangerine simply waved him off and then proceeded to flip him off.

"Christmas Eve. You don't sound too sure," you replied.

He breathed through his nose and closed his eyes. Why were you always so good at seeing through his words? It was almost like you were a psychic. Either that or Lemon was fucking texting you that he was lying.

Tangerine cursed at his brother, throwing one of the hard hotel pillows at his face. It hit him and Lemon let out a shout in protest.

"Tangerine," you said, his code name drawing his attention back to the phone.

"Right. Sorry, love. I, uh, it's not lookin' too good, sweetheart. I'm going to try and make it back as soon as I can, but I can't make any promises right now."

"Really?" you sadly said.

"Yeah, really," he said. "You know, maybe I can dream about being home for the holidays."

You scoffed softly. "What, like the Bing Crosby song?"

"What song?" he asked.

"Um," you paused. "'I'll Be Home for Christmas.'"

"Bing Crosby?"

"The singer, you dipshit," Lemon quipped from his side of the hotel room.

Tangerine rolled his eyes. "How's it go, love? Remind me."

"I'm not singing it to you," you said, "but I'll send it to you."

He snorted softly. "Yeah, you do that," he said.

Tangerine glanced toward the clock on the wall—it was nearly two in the morning. He sighed softly. He knew you were a couple hours behind him, so he wasn't keeping you awake, but he knew you still needed to go. You had a life beyond him (or at least, he hoped you did—jokes, jokes).

"Look, love, if things change, I'll be the first to message you," he said.

You sighed softly on the phone. "Do that," you said. "I miss you, Tan."

"I miss you more, love. Honest."

"I know," you said. "Just... be safe. Come home soon. We can always celebrate when you get back."

His brows furrowed. "How would we celebrate Christmas after the holiday?"

You snorted softly. "I don't think Christmas is just a day," you said. "I feel like as long as you have the people you want to celebrate with, it can be a holiday. The number doesn't truly matter."

He hummed softly at your words. "Want to invite Lemon?"

"If you want Lemon, sure."

He grinned. "Sounds like a plan, love. I'll save a day of Christmas just for you, though."

You scoffed over the phone, but he just knew you were smiling.

"I love you," Tangerine softly said. He knew Lemon heard it, and he'd say something later, but all he wanted was for you to say it back.

Perhaps it was his only wish of the night as he heard the words "I love you" over the phone, and a wish for him to have a good night.

When you hung up, he dropped his phone and looked toward Lemon.

"If we don't finish this fuckin' job in the next two days, someone is gonna bloody die, and it isn't me."

Lemon rolled his eyes. "Stop bein' so fuckin' dramatic. We'll finish the job and you can be back home playing house with your little beau."

Tangerine grumbled under his breath and laid back in his hotel bed, looking up at the popcorn ceiling.

"Damn. Remind me in the future to take all of December off."

Lemon raised an eyebrow. "You plan on taking all of December off just for a holiday?"

"Nah, mate, not just a holiday. For them."

[gracefulserpent1207]

SONIC 3 MAJOR SPOILERS!!!

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE FILM

My Sonic 3 Review:

Opening the film with Shadow waking up to memories of Maria I am SICK

Maria... was playing... Live and Learn... on guitar... omg... my heart...

OZZY'S "You stole my hoomans!" LMAOOOOOO

The fact that when Sonic says to Tom "I don't know what I'd do without you, I'd probably be a completely different hedgehog", they cut to Shadow - that is PEAK cinematography!

SHADOW ON HIS MOTORBIKE!!!

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY AGENT STONE ON A MOTORBIKE HELLO???

Tails wanted to go the chao garden he is so adorable I love him so much 😭 and the look on his face when they start performing he's just a little guy 🥺

THE WAY THE CHAO WERE RUNNING ABOUT WHEN THE CHAO GARDEN WAS ATTACKED WAS SO FUNNY

Eggman watching telenovelas is so accurate actually

Agent Stone is just so in love isn't he? In fact the Stobotnik scenes in this film were some of my favourite scenes - Lee Majdoub you're amazing

Keanu Reeves was AMAZING as Shadow

Shadow looked so scared when he was put in the tank and it was filling with water poor baby 🥺

One thing that was NOT on my Sonic 3 bingo chart was COMMANDER WALTERS FUCKING DYING??? THEY KILLED THE OLIVE GARDEN GUY???

Maria drawing a bunny face over Shadow in the tank she is so precious I love them both so much 😭

The little montage of Shadow and Maria hanging out made me SICK (in a good way) especially that scene when he's running through the halls pulling her behind him on her rollerskates LOL

NOOOOO SHADOW YOU'RE NOT AN ALIEN FREAK DON'T LISTEN TO THAT STUPID MOVIE

"There's still light, even when the star's not there anymore" okay so I'm just gonna cry into my popcorn now thx

Stone calling Tails adorable he is so real for that

Eggman saying that he's "undesirable to all possible genders" 🤨🏳️‍🌈 'whoa he's bisexual I didn't know that!'

Speed reference!

"It's like we're in a movie and we're both being played by the same actor! *Slowly stare into camera*" That fourth wall break was BRILLIANT

I can't decide whether Tom's puppet of himself is absolutely hilarious or absolutely terrifying

The montage of Eggman and Gerald lol! (but poor Stone was left out ☹️)

The entire London break-in scene was great! Especially when Knuckles finally got to break the glass!

REVENGE GUAC

Can we take a minute to appreciate the complete contrast between Gerald saying "a WOMAN in the MILITARY 😒" and Shadow saying that the girl in the telenovela should kill both the guys fighting over her because she's "not a prize to be won"?

Also Shadow watching a telenovela and telling the girl to kill both guys is so accurate LMAO he really said 'YOU LEAVE THAT LATINA ALONE!'

Ngl for a hot second I GENUINELY thought Tom was dead that was SCARY

Are we gonna talk about the fact that Gerald and Shadow were ready to kill themselves if it meant getting revenge?

The way Shadow's face changes and he flashbacks to Maria when he sees Sonic knelt next to Tom begging him to wake up... The parallels between Sonic and Shadow in this film... Oh my goodness...

Sonic getting mad enough to steal the Master Emerald from Knuckles was also NOT on my Sonic 3 bingo chart - I thought we were gonna see them fight each other for a sec which was CRAZY

I'm not the biggest Wade fan but Sonic effortlessly taking the Master Emerald from him and him replying "well I tried" was comedy GOLD - all that training in the Knuckles series for nothing huh 😂

Sonic turning super for vengeance purposes oh my goodness...

Maria's death scene really gave me goosebumps - the way Commander Walters shouts "don't shoot they're children!" - the way Shadow's face changes when he sees Maria dead - the way Gerald was crying...

I think it really says a lot about G.U.N that in this version, they didn't even shoot Maria but they were still actively responsible for her death - that officer DID shoot and he DID try and aim at Maria and that explosion WAS caused by him

Obviously I hate G.U.N but I actually feel kinda bad for Walters now like he really did try to save her didn't he 🫤

Both Gerald and Walters refer to Maria AND Shadow as children which I appreciate cuz it shows how young Shadow really was when everything went to hell for him - he's just a baby your honour he didn't MEAN to blow up earth 🥺

Sonic attacking Shadow in super form was just... WOW! He was REALLY angry wasnt he?

SUPER SONIC VS SUPER SHADOW??? HOLY SHIT!!! THAT BATTLE WAS EPIC!!! 🤯

Sonic almost killing Shadow over him almost killing Tom was a really great way to relate Sonic and Shadow's stories - Sonic coming around when Shadow points to his heart, thinking about what Tom said at the start of the film parallelling Shadow then coming around after remembering what Maria said to him... This is one hell of a film!

Sonic and Shadow watching the sun come up together as Shadow repeats what Maria says about light and stars 😭

"Don't tell me you've got a catchphrase..." "Yep, and everyone loves it!" Another fourth wall break that did NOT disappoint.

LIVE AND LEARRRRRN!!! HANGING ON THE EDGE OF TOMMOROW— 🎶

THEY DID THE SA2 POSE!!! I REPEAT, THEY DID THE SA2 POSE!!! AND IN SUPER FORM TOO!!!

Did they just... fucking... incinerate Gerald... wtf.... RIP I guess...

Shadow attacked those robots with SUPER CHOAS SPEARS in one scene!!! Which is AWESOME!!!

Eggman switching sides cuz even he knows blowing up the world is a bad idea 👍

I could go on and on and on about the Super Sonic and Super Shadow scene IT WAS SO GOOD!!!

Sonic falling to earth gave me a heart attack. Tails then falling to earth whilst trying to save Sonic also gave me a heart attack. Knuckles going to save them both making me think he was also gonna fall to earth gave me a third heart attack.

The way I physically leaned forward in my seat when Shadow took off his inhibitor rings—

They pissed on the moon.

We've seen Shadow smile so much in this film and it is SO refreshing to see! That smile right before he and Sonic team up to attack those robots Gerald sends after them is my favourite smile we've ever seen on him.

Eggman dedicated his last speech before dying to Stone 😭😩🥹 AND STONE SAYING "I CAN'T LOSE YOU AGAIN" THEY BETTER KISS IN THE NEXT FILM I SWEAR—

Team Sonic hug 🥹

Ending on the race was perfect (bonus points for Ozzy barking with subtitles again because that was HILARIOUS)

WE GON RUN IT RUN IT RUN IT TILL WE RUNNING OUTTA ROAD 💃💃💃

OMG AMY! AMY AMY AMY OH MY GOODNESS AMY! HELLO AMY! I'VE MISSED YOU SWEET AMY! AMY AMY AMY AMY AMY AMY!!! I GOT SO EXCITED WHEN I SAW THAT HAMMER! AMY ROSE! HI!!! YOU LOOK SO GOOD!!! AMY AMY AMY!!!

Oh yeah and Metal Sonic.

AMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!

So great to see that Shadow's NOT dead (although tbf I did kinda expect that - it would've been unlikely that they genuinely kill him off when he's such a popular character)

Honestly I think the END end credits scene was a perfect set up for a Shadow spinoff, like they HAVE to make one now

I also think the two end credits scenes together show that Eggman isn't really dead either - again it would be unlikely for them to kill him off PLUS if Shadow managed to chaos control himself out of there he could've easily gone back for Eggman too (and I mean who else is gonna be responsible for creating Metal Sonic?)

AMY, PEOPLE, AMY!!!

Overall, I think it's pretty clear that I LOVED this film! It was amazing and I'm already excited for the next one lol! ❤️

[luninewnk]

ㅤㅤㅤ 𝅄⠀       ִ ㅤㅤ(◞ ◟ )ྀིഒ  ׁ ׅ ㅤ꒱ LUNINE'S INTRO

ꔫ  ࣪ ˖ ♡ ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა

ㅤ┈֯⠀ ͚֯ 𝅘ྀི𝅥ㅤ   WELCOME. ㅤㅤㅤ🎀🎀

hmm...hi? well, I don’t even know why I’m doing this (and no one’s probably going to read this — and I don’t blame you for that), but here we go 😝😝😝. I DON'T KNOW HOW TO MAKE A PRETTY BLOG 😭😭😭😭

. ⍟ 🎀ㅤㅤ𝗔𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗠𝗘 — ABOUT ME

so... my name is lunine (not my real name, just a nickname i got in my 2000s fame dr, and since ioved it so much, i decided to use it as my username ✨️). i’m 19 years old (but mentally i look like a 10 year old child — gojo... i see myself in you 🫵🏼🫵🏼 ). i have ADHD, and because of that, i get way more attached to my drs and s/o's than “normal people” probably do (i have crazyyyy hyperfixations). my pronouns are she/her. idk what is my sexuality (but i'm all, but heterosexual). i have a journal where i love rambling about my s/o's — i adore chattering on about both of them haushauahsuah (i'm cheesy, i know).

i've been a shifter for 4 years (yep, i discovered shifting during the fracotok era — back in 2020. but unlike others, my goal wasn’t harry potter, but boku no hero academia — I WAS OBSESSED WITH DABI AND NEEDED him to eat me 😭😭😭😭). but over the years, I’ve only tried shifting to my dr about 15 times (99% of the time, I just daydreaming and seeing fanfiction).

I LOVE throwing myself into dangerous dr's (especially apocalypse ones). why? because yes. I love adrenaline, okay? I find drs like that way more interesting (just my opinion, guysss). my friends call me crazy for choosing drs like TWD or The Last of Us. but so what???? i’ve always loved the apocalypse vibe. like, it’s so badass, yummyyy. who can judge me? 💋💋💋

   𓊆ྀི . . . 𓊇ྀི ⠀⠀⑅ ₊  𐙚 𓂃 ࣪ ◌ 𓊆ྀི . . . 𓊇ྀི ⠀⠀⑅ ₊  𐙚 𓂃 ࣪ ◌

. ⍟ 🎀ㅤㅤ𝗠𝗬 𝗗𝗥's — MY DR's

i have a lot of DRs, like, A LOT. sooo i’m not going to list them all here (mainly because some of them are ones i created after daydreaming and don’t even have names/scripts for yet 😭😭😭). I’ll just mention my favorites and the main ones.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ┈֯⠀ ͚֯ 𝅘ྀི𝅥ㅤ ㅤmy main realities ㅤㅤ🎀

O1 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤjujutsu kaisen

O2 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤthe last of us (first game)

O3ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ fame dr 2000s

O4 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤwaiting room

O5ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ band dr (this dr is kind of a mix of fame dr and tlou 2 hauhsyahaa)

O6ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ the walking dead

O7ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ supernatural

   𓊆ྀི . . . 𓊇ྀི ⠀⠀⑅ ₊  𐙚 𓂃 ࣪ ◌ 𓊆ྀི . . . 𓊇ྀི ⠀⠀⑅ ₊  𐙚 𓂃 ࣪ ◌

. ⍟ 🎀ㅤㅤ𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗦 — OTHERS

my favorite color is pink and black .

i love nature, astronomy, shifting, animes, fantasy, fictional universes, daydreaming, animals (mainly cats), summer/spring, playing games, old songs, listening to music, drawing, dancing, reading, etc.

i hate machistas, sexists, anti-shifters, racists, people who judge other people's DRs, homophobes, shiftoks who have a 2020 mentality, etc (if you are one of those... GET OUT OF HERE)

my s/o's are almost triple my age (no judgement, guys) 😍😍😍. I LOVE DILFS 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦

I AM ACCEPTING NEW FRIENDS 🎀🫶🏼 (caall me)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

well... I think that's all (if I remember anything else to add, I'll update it here)

mwah mwah, lunine.

[crystallizedtwilight]

🎃 LSBC Questions: Part 24! 🎃

Lock, Shock, Barrel, and Calliope questions that call for quick answers will be under the cut in batches of 10-15 🧡

Previous bulk questions batch

I like telling their story best though short comics!

They don't call them dates but they'll hang out casually as a group sometimes!

I drew fem humans at a fashion show, the designs would probably be a variation of that

The trio are very supportive of how their friends want to look, so they don't force their aesthetics on each other. But she'd paint his nails if he asked her to. His nails are naturally black.

No, Lock hates PDA. Shock doesn't want to see it but Lock doesn't want to BE seen even more [1] [2] [3] [4]

Lock adores compliments and praise. But the tsundere in him still responds "s-shut up" 😳

(since confessing and officially deciding to date) about a year for both, but I draw things out of order.

Lock still doesn't care for formal events, but he tolerates them more after the confession. He went from 10/10 hating them to like...7/10 hating them. He would still prefer to have Barrel's attention all to himself but he feels better about him mingling and dancing ever since Barrel made it very clear that Lock has his whole heart.

Banshees whose dependent line comes to an end rarely recover from their grief. They spend their existence emotionally bonded to them, attune to the daily, fluctuating probability of their deaths, and to lose them feels like losing their family and purpose. Calliope fully expected to be bluebells by now, so the fact that she gets a second chance at happiness makes her feel so lucky and grateful!

Not long! Flying, Potions, and Hexes are the three stages of coven studies, and it's typical for the first to be mastered much quicker than the following two, which can take many years.

[anonymouse9172]

They meet (again). Part 1. (Yandere! Poly! Twisted Wonderland x Male Reader)

Malleus and Leona: M/n is Divus Crewel's much younger half brother by 16 years. M/n and Divus did not really get along but neither hated each other either. Due to their age difference they didn't grow up together so they just never truly knew each other and were fine with that. That is until their Dad and M/n's mother died in a car leaving the just barely 18 year old boy, M/n, with no place to go. Though most argued in his family that he was old enough to live on his own and take care of himself even though he had not finished high school and refused to take him in but Divus surprisingly offered him a place to stay until he at least finished high school.

M/n had to move to Night Raven College. He knew it would be rough moving in the last year of high school but he didn't really see a choice other then dropping out and he didn't want to do that either. So he moved and was sorted into Scarbia. He did not interact with anyone outside of Scarbia, his brother, and other teachers for the first week. On the 8th day though he decided to wonder around the campus. He ended up lost in the woods though.

He was trying to determine how to get back to Scarbia when he heard two voices arguing. M/n quickly hurried to the voices. He stumbled upon the sight of a lion beast man in a savanaclaw uniform and dragon fae in a Diasmonia uniform looking ready to either go to blows with each other or kiss. M/n could not tell which.

He wasn't sure if he should interrupt them but he realized he didn't really a choice, he needed to get out of this damned forest one way or another. He cleared his throat drawing of their attentions sharply. "I'm sorry for interrupting but I'm completely lost. Wou...?", he starts but is cut off by the Lion beast man.

"So? That's not our problem, herbivore.", says the says the Lion beast man. "Don't be so rude, Kingscholar. The child of man is just trying to get out of the woods and we are the only people around. It's not like he insulted our gargoyles or something.", says the dragon fae.

The beast man glares. "There you go again talking about gargoyles. There are more important things in life then gargoyles.", says the Lion. The beast man and the fae begin to bricked again back and forth. It was really getting on M/n's nerves. "Can someone please just tell me the way out of here?", says M/n so loudly it verges yelling at them.

The Lion glares at the human Scarbia student. He starts to open his mouth to say something sarcastic but the dragon far beats him. "My apologizes child of man. There is a path about 12 feet behind me. If you follow it west towards the sun it should take you to the main campus.", says the dragon fae. "Thank you.", says M/n and then he quickly sets off down the path.

A minute after he is gone the dragon fae and lion look at each other. The lion grumbles out, "You were right. He's perfect." The dragon smiles. "I know.", says the fae.

Kalim and Jamil: M/n meet Kalim and Jamil as children. He was Kalim's other servant and Jamil's coworker. He wasn't quite treated on the same level as Jamil though. He wasn't as smart, polite, cunning, handsome, or as good a cook. He kind of just belonged in the background doing the more menial things for Kalim, and sometimes even Jamil, and he didn't mind that. When they went NRC he didn't go with them at first so he did not see them for two years. He didnt think much of it or really care.

Then at what would have been the beginning of their third year at NRC it was announced that Jamil and Kalim were dating and M/n was sent by Kalim's family to NRC to take over Jamil's work so that Kalim's boyfriend would not have to servants work at all anymore. M/n had expected to do much of the same as he had before Kalim and Jamil went to NRC and be in the background behind them. However when he arrives and enters the Scarbia dorm he is surprised when Kalim sees him that he rushes and sweeps him off his feet literally.

M/n had always been even tinier the Kalim so it was not all that surprising that the tanned albino prince could do this but that he would was shocking. Kalim had always been friendly to M/n but not overly so like he was with Jamil. When Kalim finally set M/n down again he was even more shocked to see Jamil smiling behind Kalim.

"Follow me, M/n. I'll show you to your room so you can get settled in.", says Jamil. Then the tall brunette turns and starts walking. M/n and Kalim follow while Kalim chatters away and M/n simply nods along with him. After enter his room and shutting the door M/n hears Jamil and Kalim walk away but he doesn't hear them whispering to each other as they do so.

"He's finally here. I want to play with him. It'll be so much fun. We should throw a party.", says Kalim to Jamil excitedly. "Patience, Kalim. We need to slowly ease him in before we officially make him ours. We can't just rush. He'll try to run. We need to play the long game.", says Jamil. Kalim pouts but nods.

Ace and Deuce: M/n's twin brother Yuu was always gallivanting around with Ace and Deuce since they ended up in Twisted Wonderland. However M/n did not think much of them or know them well. Instead he focused on trying to find away home. He spent the longest time scouring books for information and consulting books. After finding nothing the first three months he decided he needed help. First he tried going to Dire Crowley who he thought was also working on a way for them to go home. After a weird conversation he realized that Crowley knew nothing. Then he tried talking Divus Crewel who promptly slammed a door in his face upon realizing he wasn't in fact Yuu. So then he decided to go find the smartest students at NRC for help. He decided to start with Heartslabyul's dorm warden.

When he got there he found his brother in the garden with Ace, Deuce, Trey, Cater, and Riddle, who was the dorm warden. When Yuu saw his brother he eagerly waved and yelled, "M/n, get over here." M/n sighed as everyone else's attention flew to him.

He waved awkwardly and walked over. Riddle, Trey, Cater gazes went of M/n but Ace and Deuce stared so unabashedly that M/n felt uncomfortable. Yuu however was about ready to bounce off his seat. "You finally took your nose out of a book and come to join us. I thought you were to good to hang out with the likes of us.", says Ace with a sneer that did not quiet reach his eyes.

M/n felt confused. "What are you talking about? I'm just trying to find a way home for me and Yuu but I couldn't find anything and I scoured every book in the library. I need help.", says M/n. Yuu frowns at M/n and looks down. Everyone falls quiet and Ace and Deuce look pissed. Riddle doesn't say anything and neither do Trey or Cater.

Ace clenches his fists and Deuce grits his teeth. Deuce speaks coldly. "So you don't really want to get to know us? You just want to get out of here and never think of us or see us again? You think that is okay? Like we are nothing.", hisses the blue haired male.

M/n's eyes widen and he feels afraid. He tries to backtrack. "Whoa. No. I just want to go home because I miss my family and friends there. I wasn't trying to insult or belittle you or anything.", he says quickly attempting to placate the blue haired guy.

"Well, you did. Now get out of our fucking faces.", says Ace. M/n feels defeated as he turns and walks away. He just wants to go home not hurt anyone.

When he is out of ear shot Yuu places a hand on Ace's upper arm. "Don't worry. He'll come around soon and you and Deuce will have him in your arms. Then he'll give up on going back to Earth.", says Yuu. Ace slumps, scowls, and says, "I want him now." "Me too.", says Deuce starring wistfully off in the direction the M/n went.

(Sorry this took so long. The other to ships will be in the second part. I got stuck of Leona and Malleus for the longest time and now I am stuck Riddle and Floyd. After the second part I will start of the second scenario and after that I will start taking requests but do not rush me.)

[ink-stainedkiss]

Tattoo Artist Satoru Gojo Headcannons

*Not proofread sorry I got to excited and immediately wanted to post this.*

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who is ecstatic when you walk through his shop doors. As you scan the lobby, looking at different tattoo ideas, Gojo sneakily walks over to his employee, who is mainly the receptionist, but he tells her to take a break since she’s working so hard.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who listens very carefully to your explanation. His eyes scanning over your form to uh…get an understanding of where you want the tattoo, yeah, that’s right. He quickly perks up when you tell him you want the ink on your ribs, your hand tracing right under your breast.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who flirts with you shamelessly while others in the room work on their clients.

“So you want it on your ribs, huh?” He asks, inspecting the reference photo you brought in for him. You hum in confirmation,”Yes, is that going to be a problem?” The artist shakes his head,”No not at all, but I’m supposed to tell you that it’s not going to feel amazing.”

Gojo watches as you start to pull up your hoodie sleeve, revealing your arm covered in gorgeous drawings,”I think I’ll handle it.” Gojo gave you a smirk, but on the inside he was still gawking at your arm. If you too were alone, he probably wouldn’t be able to help himself. He stepped back from the counter, slyly lifting his arms to “stretch”, and doesn’t mind how you peek at the slip of skin from his lifted shirt. To add the cherry on top, he catches your eyes, and gives you a flirty wink.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who has to bite his own fist to contain any crude sounds from escaping as you walk past, telling him,”I came here to get a tattoo, pretty boy, not to be teased.”

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who trails after you like an excited puppy to the back tables. He tells you to take off your hoodie, hoping that after he can tell you to take off more. You clearly aren’t shy, because even the way you take off you jacket makes you ten times hotter.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who believes he hit the mother load as he sees the scattered markings of tattoos across your body, since you so gratefully decided to wear a tank top to his store. As he preps the stencil, he can’t help but take glances as you hop up onto the bed. His eyes linger on your bra strap, noting the scarlet material shining through your practically transparent tank top.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who has to keep his face neutral when he asks you to lift your top. His jaw tightens at the sight of your bare skin and he has to tell himself to be professional. It’s just so hard when you're laid out on his medical bed and looking so, so, perfect.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who chuckles when you let out a small squeak as he applies the cold sterile wipe on your skin, his azure eyes locking onto your for only a second, before he’s looking away. The tension in the room is thick and he loves every second of it.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who loves seeing you flustered by his intense staring.

He tilts his head and gives you a sultry smile, asking,”Are you ready?” His mouth twisting in a lazy grin. You open your mouth to respond, but you can’t, instead you look away, a blush reaching your cheeks,”Mhm.” You hate how his small laughs make your heart flutter.

He begins to trace your tattoo, but as the needle hits your skin, you inhale sharply. Of course it’s not pleasant, but it wasn’t agonizing. Gojo flicks his eyes back and forth, checking in on you and making sure he doesn’t mess up your tattoo. As he glides the tool down, it hits a spot that makes you gasp, impulsively grabbing ahold of Gojo’s hand that rests on your stomach. He doesn’t mind, hell, he loves the fact that your using his hand as a vice. His smirk grows as you squeeze his hand each time the needle punctures your skin a bit too hard.

To soothe you, his thumb gently caresses your skin, and it seems to work.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who praises you immensely once the tattoo is done. He finds the sparkle in your eye as you stare at the ink in the large mirror adorable. While most will say he’s just charming you, he honestly finds you stronger than most that walk in. Especially because it was a rib tattoo. He’s seen some men that have gotten the same and walk out of the shop with tear stains coating their cheeks. But you didn’t even need one break.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who grins as you examine your new tattoo in the mirror.

“Ya know, it kinda matches mine.” Without waiting a second, Gojo is lifting his shirt, making you go beet red. His abs make their way into your vision, but the artist is turning around before you can look any longer. There on his back are beautiful marks, etching from his shoulder blacks, to the bottom of his back.And dear god, it’s gorgeous. Everything. The ink to just his figure. He’s large. You reach out a hand to feel, but you instinctively yank it back, embarrassed at your actions.

Gojo had seen it in the mirror and chuckled under his breath,”It’s alright, you can touch. I don’t bite.” He purred,”Unless you want me too.”You were speechless by his boldness. It was super hot, but you wouldn’t tell him that. You hesitated, but the tattoo was practically calling to you. Finally, your soft fingers traced over the sketches, making Gojo let out a shaky breath.

You started at his shoulders, dragging down till you hit his spine. Gojo obviously had a sensitive spot, because you were sure you heard a muffled groan.Gaining more confidence, you use both hands, massaging his sculpted back,”It's breathtaking.” That’s it. That’s all Gojo needed to snap, because in an instant he’s flipping around, stealing your lips in a hot and needy kiss.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who makes his employees question why your tattoo is taking so long and why his room is locked…

[spotsandsocks]

Oh hi!

For my wintery ask to you, I'm sending 🎅🏽 and marshmallow. :)

Hellooooo! Thanks for sending a stocking ask. One ficlet for marshmallow. 570 words . Hope you like it 😊

His phone is ringing which considering the time is enough to make Buck’s heart rate spike. It’s way past the acceptable time for calling without an important reason. Grabbing his phone and seeing Maddies face and name lit u does nothing to calm him down. It’s way past eleven. What's happened?

He answers the phone intent on finding out “what’s wrong?”

“Elves! Stupid things. I hate them.”

It’s not anything close to what he was expecting. At least it’s not an emergency or a disaster which considering thier lives is more than possible.”

“Ok and why do we hate elves at” he checks the time “11.23 at night?”

“Because I forgot about them tonight and Howie’s on an extra shift tonight and I have not idea what to do with the damn things! I need help! You're my help!”

Maddie sounds at the end of her tether, hardly surprising the holidays are stressful, there’s a lot to do and the elves are, he knows from Chimney a major source of stress. He makes a mental note to not start any elf shenanigans when he has kids,

‘“Ok… what have you done already?”

“Everything! Stupid things, maybe they can have an accident tonight…”

“Maybe not, let’s not traumatise Jee ok Mads.”

“They deserve it, they could get locked out or get flushed down the toilet, the oven…”

“Maddie!” He stops her, almost shocked at the level of homicidal rage she has towards the naughty Christmas elves Jee loves to see every morning. “Flour footprints?”

“Basic, did it week one.”

“Drawing on the fruit?

“Done it.”

“Using the pans as drums?”

“Fun but done it.”

“Playing cards?”

“Boring!”

“Top of Christmas tree? Melted ice cream? Stuck to the ceiling? Grated carrot?”

“Buck, you’re meant to be helping me. I’ve done all that, it’s almost Christmas Eve, I’ve got to get creative now!”

Ok… um what have you got in the cupboards?

Almost at once he can hear cupboard doors opening and closing.

“There’s nothing useful! What am I going to do?”

“We’ll think of something, don’t worry.”

With his sister calling out things from her cupboards he tries to think of Christmasy things. Cookies, mistletoe, snow, stockings, trees, presents, baubles… one of his ideas comes back to him; snow.

“Maddie, you got any marshmallows?”

“Umm… yeah, why?”

“Big ones or small?”

“Both.”

Hoping this idea goes down better than the others he takes a breath.

“Ok, build a snowhouse out of the big ones and then use the others for snow and make a snow angel shape with the elf.”

He waits hopefully. There’s silence on the other end of the phone, then a sigh of relief followed by his sister's voice.

“That’s brilliant. Buck you’re a genius! I love you.”

Then she hangs up. About 15 minutes later he gets a picture of the elves doing exactly what he suggested, it looks good if he does say so himself.

Maddie sends a text that says thank you and heart emojis that make him smile.

The next one she sends doesn’t. It says; great job tonight so you can help again tomorrow.

Looks like Maddie’s elf problem is his too now, but then what’s family for if not to put mischievous elves into situations together. He opens a new browser page on his phone and types ‘elf on a shelf ideas’… who needs sleep when there are nieces to keep happy.