#these two are until I worked on this edit

[clovermoters]

santa, doesn’t know you like i do

ln4 x reader

summary: lando is meeting your extended relatives for the first time, when a harsh comment brings him to a panic attack, your quick to help him.

warnings: panic attack, kisses, hardly proofread or edited and probably some grammar errors

a/n: here’s my day late christmas fic that i wrote half asleep, enjoy beautifuls 💗

you stood in the mudroom of your london apartment carefully applying your new lip product lando had bought you as one of your many christmas gifts.

Lando appears behind you, looking sickeningly handsome in a dress shirt and pants. his hands find your waist as he rests his head on your shoulder, his signature smile on his face as he watches you work your magic.

“you ready?” you ask the boy. he dips his head to place feather light kisses on your neck before snuggling deeper into the nape of your neck. he replies a muffled “not really” before he moves to shove his feet into his air forces.

he holds your coat out to assist you, placing a light peck on your lips once you’re ready to brave the snowy outdoors.

Lando drove you two to your family home, his nerves practically radiating off of him. He had met your parents multiple times before but today he’d get to meet your grandparents and extended relatives.

“Lando, everything’s going to be fine, they’ll love you.” you take his hand in yours. He sighs as he slightly plays with your fingers on your lap while focusing on the road ahead.

“What if they don’t though?” he argued. shooting a worried look at you. you give him an ‘are you kidding me’ look.

“I don't think they can physically hate you, just be yourself and they will adore you, just like I do!” you stretch across the centre console to place a kiss on his cheek.

you pull into the driveway of your childhood home, the christmas lights your dad had hung since you were small still decorating the roof nicely. lando kills the ignition, taking a moment to breathe.

he is so fucking nervous.

you had briefed him slightly this morning, warning him of your relatives being slightly traditional, worried that they wouldn’t understand what lando does and how he’s perfectly capable of providing for the two of you.

and treating you like a princess.

“Alright, let’s go make our entrance” you chime, walking towards the door holding your family favourite casserole and Lando juggles 5 gifts in his hands.

you ring the doorbell, shooting lando a soft smile while he gives you his excitement-nervous smile before the door opens revealing your mother.

“oh don’t you two look adorable!” your mother said smiling wide and rushing to bring you two into a hug. your father close behind her prompting to free up your hands and take your coats.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆

while you exchange your hellos around the house, lando shadows you. his hand interlocked with yours refusing to part even when you hug your relatives. you and lando make your way around the house, introducing lando as you go.

Your aunts and uncles adore him, your cousins fanboy over him and don’t let you walk away until each and every one of them gets a picture with lando. the more people lando met the more outgoing he became. The boy was showing the playful, silly side you saw daily.

“socializing is going smoothly!” Lando jokes. you chuckle while leading him over to your grandfather.

“Grandpa, this is my boyfriend Lando,” Lando offers his hand to shake with him “pleasure to meet you, sir” he added.

your grandfather eyes him while they shake hands. you can tell the man is thinking, and you begin to worry about what he will say next. knowing the man, it won’t be something nice.

“So Lando, what do you do for a living?” the older man asks. jumping straight into the hard questions. Lando stands up a little straighter before replying.

“uh- i drive in formula 1, sir. for mclaren.” you softly squeeze his arm linked with yours, reassuring him of your presence.

“oh, you’re the guy who choked the championship aren’t you?” your grandfather said attempting to innocently tease lando. The man laughs and while Lando joins in the laughter, you can feel him tense up.

you swiftly move on to the rest of your extended relatives, lando slowly began to fall behind you again, regressing back to the shell of shyness from earlier in the evening.

you could sense something was wrong when you noticed how quickly he was zoning out.

He was fidgeting with your fingers while you held a conversation with your aunts who were keen to learn everything about your time spent in monaco. You tried your best to include Lando in the conversation but the boy was too focused on the floor to properly listen to what your aunt had to say.

You excused yourself and Lando, dragging him upstairs into the bathroom to give the two of you some privacy.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly. Lando sits on the edge of the bathtub putting his head in his hands.

He doesn't answer you right away, you stand in front of him, giving him a moment to collect his thoughts.

You silently watch him as his breathing picks up, he lifts his head and the moment his eyes connect with yours, you swear you can hear your heart shatter. His eyes are filled with tears that are threatening to spill onto his face.

You're on his level in a split second, taking his face in your hands. “baby, hey what's wrong?” you push, his breathing is rapid and uneven as he attempts to get the words out.

You wrap your arms around him “shh, it's okay, im here.” you rub circles into his back letting him take a moment.

After a few minutes, Lando's breathing slowed, he wiped his tears with his shirt while you handed him a glass of water.

You were no stranger to Lando having panic attacks, the recent season resulted in Lando suffering from multiple.

You knew what he needed and right now he just needed you to sit with him until he managed to calm himself down enough to communicate to you what he's feeling.

He looks up at you with tearful eyes “your grandfather's words really hit me, and it was just over from there.” he explains. If your heart already wasn't shattered, someone just stomped on it.

“Oh baby” you sigh, gently rubbing his tear stained cheeks. Lando leans into the touch, letting it ground him.

“Don't listen to him, he’s an ass who doesn't understand how your world works. He would just turn the tv on during Sundays and not actually take in anything he is watching” lando chuckles at that, you smile, thankful he's able to laugh.

“You are amazing, and you achieved so much this year. It is the world's fault that they aren't able to see all you accomplished this year and look to the future and see that you are going to kill it next year-”

he cuts you off by pulling you into a kiss, his lips moving in sync with yours as he gently cups your face. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip, asking for access which you happily grant. Your tongues battle each other as the kiss becomes more heated. Lando softly groans into your mouth as you softly bite his lip.

Before the two of you could go past messily making out in your parents bathroom, the sound of your mother announcing dinner is served forces you to pull apart. Lando has a goofy smile on his face while he fixes your hair.

“Thank you, i love you” he whispers before cheekliy placing one last kiss to your lips. “I love you too” you repeat before turning to head down to dinner.

Before you can open the door Lando softly grabs your waist and spins you to face him again. His eyes fall to your lips immediately and just when you think he's about to lean in, his thumb reaches up and softly swipes across your chin.

“You’ve got some lipstick smudged, love.” he teases before waltzing past you as you whip around towards the mirror, quickly fixing your lipstick while he watches you from the door.

Once your makeup looks perfect again, the two of you make your way back to the function, falling into simple conversations over christmas dinner. You watched lando come back to life, simply adoring the way he interacted with your family members.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆

you silently watched from the side as he was in-depth explaining to your aunt how the steering wheel of a car worked, when your small cousin ran up behind him and tapped him on the back.

the boy whips around with a smile plastered on his face “hey lily!” lando crouched down to the girl who was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“hi lando! i just wanted to say i really liked your race in singapore” she said, lando couldn’t help but smile. he was slightly shocked your cousin had even watched his races.

“oh thank you!” Lando leans in slightly, “Tell you what, maybe I can sneak some passes for you and your family at silverstone?” Lando whispers in a mock secrecy, the younger girl gasps.

“So we'd get to see you race?” she asked excitedly. Lando smiled wider, “would you like that?” the girl nodded profusely before speaking

“yes please! your racing is so cool and you are so cool i want to try karting but my dad said i can't until i turn seven.” she pouts slightly and Lando chuckles.

“I just wanna be like you” she adds with a frown and Lando feels his heart swell in his chest. you had told him that your little cousins looked up to him, but hearing it come from one of their tiny mouths, landos worries from before fade into memories.

you were helping your mother finish the dishes while the house slowly emptied out. lando wraps his arms around your waist while he watches you clean the silverware from over your shoulder.

“your cousins love me.” he says smugly. you giggle softly at him before turning in his arms, “they do love you, i’ve had many phone calls asking if they could talk to you. you’ve replaced me as the role model.”

your hands find comfort in his curls, smiling up at him before he places a quick peck to your cheek.

“c’mon, let’s go home” he takes your hands and you both make your way to the car. As you drove home, Lando replayed the events of tonight in his head, he looked over at you sleeping silently against the cool car window.

realizing he can’t please everybody, he needs to focus on loving the people who do support him and look up to him. he smiled at the thought, turning back to the road as the light turned green.

maybe christmas at your parents wasn’t so bad after all.

tbh this is so bad but whateves MERRY CHRISTMASSSSS and happy holidays to all who celebrates 🤍

[iannmin]

What kinks do you think San would have? <3

KINKS SAN WOULD HAVE ⁺₊❆⋆ 최산

🏷️ ⋆ smut, drabble, intentional lowercase, size kink, praise kink, breeding kink (serious), lingerie play, somnophilia, cum play (LOTS of cum)

🗒️ ⋆ RAHHHHHH WTF I’ve been wanting to write this SO BAD!!! thank you thank you so much for the opportunity skjdkskdksk i hope both sides of your pillow are nice and fluffy every time you sleep <3333 also i just couldn’t help but put the edit of long haired san hehe

୨୧ ‘ masterlist ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ ⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆ ⁺₊❅⋆

PRAISE KINK ⋆

no offence but sannie would be on the number one priority list for those who have praise kink. like can you see how he folds and gets absolutely all squishy and subby when wooyoung praises him? like his cheeks gets all flushed and hot,, he’ll probably desire the same with his s/o, whether it’s him giving or receiving. and to be honest san is more of a soft dom, so he’ll love reassurance. just imagine every time when he’s about to enter you he will most definitely whisper softly “you can take it baby, it’s gonna open up so well for me, your pussy’s gonna feel so good, hm?” (and I’ve noticed that san loves to say ‘hm?’ after his sentence a lot in his voice lives and it drives me absolutely crazy)

SIZE KINK ⋆

sannie is a total sucker for size differences and he absolutely builds his ego off of watching his s/o squirm under his huge frame. like just picture him headlocking his s/o from behind, broad chest sticking to his s/o’s back while just absolutely pounding the fuck out of them and whispering dirty things into their ear ughh. and do you remember that one fanmeeting clip of san’s back facing the audience and wooyoung is literally holding his neck attempting to kiss him??? he’ll probably look like that coming home to his s/o from a long day of work,, kissing them at the entrance as a ‘I’m home’ type of gesture. and also,, that’s probably why san hits the gym sososo much, it’s really just to assert dominance and feel big

BREEDING KINK ⋆

don’t even get me started with this once :,) like do you guys realise how traditional san is? like in terms of family and stuff he seemed to have grown up in a very traditional household where his father was strict on him and all that. like just look at how much respect he has for his parents and how well-mannered he is,, and especially do you remember when san mentioned that if he had a daughter he would raise her in a very princess way but if he had a son he would raise him like his father did in a strict way? so anyways,, the whole point I’m making is that san would probably want to start a family early with his s/o so that they can have cute little family outings together, and he can be a dad. so that’s where the feral breeding kink comes in. like he just goes absolutely bonkers the first time his s/o let’s him hit it raw after their marriage, or even better, when he learns that his s/o wants to try for a baby, so he makes sure to absolutely fill their cunt to the fullest, even going beyond his usual stamina of two rounds because for some reason he keeps getting hard after watching his white cum seep out of their hole and dripping onto their thighs :( P.S. he might even have a sex marathon with his s/o on the week their ovulating just to maximise his chances of becoming a dad

FINGERING ⋆

okay okay, I know sannie is a clean type of person and he doesn’t really like making a huge mess, especially when you see how clean and minimalistic his dorm room is but when it comes to his s/o, all morality just gets thrown off out the window. he goes pussy drunk and fingers them until they’re making an absolute mess. and I’ve seen some people commenting that he has chubby hands like cheese-stick fingers but won’t they feel so fucking good when their up in his s/o’s hole? i bet the stretch is a whole lot better with thick fingers like his and it’s definitely enough to get his s/o squirming and whimpering, even squirting.

SOMNOPHILIA ⋆

sannie treats women with so much respect and probably hates non-con stuff which is a great turn-off for him. but somnophilia? that’s his jam right there. the first time his s/o told him up front that they like being fucked awake no matter when, he was slightly hesitant, but he probably discovered a whole new world right there and then when he slid his dick into their unprepped cunt, the raw feeling being absolutely addictive. so even on days when his s/o looked absolutely unsexy, wearing a pair of kiddy-looking pajamas, he will still have a great urge to pull down those cartooned pants and fuck them. he just can’t get enough of the moment when their brows finally knit together and their eyes flutter open, raising their head from the pillow just to see him wrecking their pussy open, and that’s when all senses and feelings process in their brain and they start moaning and squealing.

LINGERIE ⋆

just a bonus kink here hehe,, and not to mention sannie is not the type to rip open the lingeries because he respects how expensive they are, but he’s more of the type to push their panties to the side and fuck them <3

[slippinninque]

🎄A Small Exchange 🎁

Terry Richmond x blackfemreader

In which Terry hopes for the best

Warnings: Fluff!! Self indulgent fic, soft!Terry, may need some edits

It’s been a nearly half a year since Terry has joined this club and he’s never been as unprepared to face you as he was now. This went beyond tangled yarn and nonsensical stitch counts...

The gift bag hung from his fingers. Pretty and heavy and decorated with a festive scene staring field mice having a lovely dinner. Aside from the main attraction that he made with his own two hands–Terry threw in a few other festive trinkets. Christmas socks, a candle, a box of chocolates is as far as he got before his cousin took a away his shopping basket.

Across the small room he watched you help a youngster with their tangled hook. You had little wreaths as earrings, antlers, and a painted nose that went perfectly with your chunky knit sweater and fleece leggings. Dressed perfectly for both the low temperatures and incoming holiday–Terry was nearly on his knees from every adorable jingle-jangle that came from you.

All too soon it was his turn. Facing your encouraging smile as he waved him closer, wondering aloud who the lucky person was before the bag was nearly shoved into your hands. Terry stood at attention and two near by regular attendees crowded close as well.

The blanket was made to Terry’s size. He wanted to be sure that you remained warm. This made the blanket queen-sized–he realized the scale when you unfurled it and oop-ed at the plop of fabric onto the carpeted floor.

The others in their circle ooh-ed and Oh, Terry!-ed when you held up the blanket he’s spent the last two months crocheting just for you. Terry’s hands locked tighter before him as he felt his face heat up at the praise.

It was just like the picture you shared to the group nearly half a year ago. More or less. A soft, blushy middle circle fading into a solid, square frames. Instead of the light blues and pinks, Terry went with a soft purples of varying shades that he imagined would be beautiful against your skin. 

Terry realized that you were staring at him now, mouth agape. 

“Erm, I may have been a bit heavy handed with the increases…” he cleared his throat and you snickered, coming out of your speechlessness.

“I–Terry–this…”

He took a step towards you but turned to the rest of the crochet circle you lead. Eyes, bespectacled and otherwise, moved away as enthusiastic gift exchanging continued around the both of you. You looked at him and laughed again, embarrassed. Gathering the blanket back, you nodded towards two chairs and a small popup table pulled a little bit away from the group’s main spot.

Terry exhaled deliberately through his nose then followed. Terry laid his life on his iron sights more than once but never had he felt the energy coursing through him now. Wanting your approval, torn between not wanting to get his hopes too high but craving your thoughts on his work. 

Ever since you made him pay for not moving from a reserved seat for one of your students, you shoved a hook in his hand and dared him to put it down. Literally.

“I mean, unless you want to be the scary-frown man to the incoming grannies?” 

He realized how childish he was being by refusing to move from the seat, but he was too deep in enjoying your wit. Dry as ice can be when annoyed, warm as smiling cheeks when happy. It’s what kept him coming back to your Crochet Club every chance he got, until he had a lopsided scarf all of his own.

It was then time for another project and once the idea for a gift for you appeared–Terry couldn’t shake it. 

��I can’t believe you did this…I am…'thank you’ isn’t enough.” You said to him, placing the fluffy monstrosity onto the table, “It’s going directly to my bed when I get home.”

“It’s only a compliment to your teaching.”

“Oh no, this is something about that stubbornness of yours–” You trailed off and your eyes squinted at him. Terry returned the squint, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“What?”

“...Were you pretending to be that bad in the beginning or were you playing with me this whole time?”

“What would you say? Do I seem the type to play helpless?” 

“Okay Mr. Ergomatic grip. You know no one else in the group uses one–

“Yes. I kno–

“Not even  Ms. Sheila…”

Terry rose a brow at you and put a hand warningly onto the blanket, face cool but his eyes crinkled at the corners. Undeterred by his impressive poker face, you held onto the plush corners and pleaded for his forgiveness.

“No, no! Okay, I’m sorry–your old-man hook is the coolest, I swear!”

“Mhm. I don’t think I believe you.” 

“Wait, here–maybe this can buy me back my Christmas miracle…”

Terry rose a brow as he watched you crouch down to grab a polar bear printed bag from beneath the table. You cleared your throat a bit, glancing over your shoulder a bit before offering it to him with two hands.

He…honestly wasn’t expecting you to have a gift for him. The group exchanged gifts at different points of the month and he's seen you give out something to just about everyone that you could catch attending.

Money being funny, deals being too good to pass up, or even a novelty item that reminded you of your favorite weirdo. It’s led to Terry getting an assortment of things from the others that leaves warmth in his chest when glances one in his home.

Terry barely looked into the bag stuffed with tissue paper before diving in, pulling out a luxurious cardigan. Dark olive and made of what Terry would guess is cashmere, he was at a loss for words when he held it to the light. Were the stitches sparkling? Or was that just his excitement?

As you went on about how it was cashmere and it took a lot of guessing of his size, Terry only wanted one thing…

He shrugged out of the jacket he still wore. Down to only a long sleeve, the cardigan settled on his form nicely. Terry didn’t feel himself smiling as he smoothed down the length of the cardigan, then held out his arms to note the sleeves ended right here he preferred. Rising his arms next, Terry could not feel a draft as he normally would have if wearing the standard fit.

Your voice was shy as you asked, “How’s it feeling?” 

“It fits perfectly.” Terry had to stop himself from rubbing along the sides of the cardigan, only to discover–

“It has pockets!” He looked down in surprise as his hands slipped into the squares and you laughed, delighted as you confirmed that it indeed had pockets. 

Now it was Terry’s turn to be speechless. He could picture your hook flying through the yarn, your glasses perched low on your nose as you either listened to a friend or podcast. Hundreds and hundreds of stitches done by you personally, all because you had Terry in mind. 

He was sure that, at some point, you both probably had a spool of yarn in your laps as you thought about each other. Terry knew he had you in mind with every step--all the way to hoping and praying the yarn wouldn't be too stressed up against his callouses.

He wondered what you were thinking of when sewing those pockets at the perfect height to meet his hands.

The two of you watched each other now, touched but unable to find the words. It was a sweet tension that Terry has never felt before and from the way you’re looking at him–Terry wanted to know what you were thinking. Surrounded by the sounds of merriment of the others and the Christmas music playing, it made him feel bold.

“Not sure what you have planned after this,” Terry said, “But I…was considering Ms.Sheila’s suggestion on seeing the Christmas lights on 3rd avenue."

“There’s a pretty spot there that’s 24/7 that does breakfast-for-dinner like no other.”

“Hm. Sounds just fine to me.”

The smile on your space begged to be kissed but Terry settled for reaching out and tweaking an antler, it's bright ringing matching the twinkle in your eyes.

You startled at remembering the rest of the world when the playlist went from a slow and jazzy to a startling pop rendition of O, Holy Nights. Terry smiled to himself as he watched you hurry over to the group that has loosely started twisting yarn without the two of you, the knowing glances and cheeky grins following after your flustered motions. 

Terry looked down at the gift in his hands and with the thought of what was to come–he entered the circle after you.

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

⭐ending notes:⭐ it was a bit hard to feel festive this year, so sorry for being MIA for a bit! 🥹Here is my first Terry Richmond fic as a gift that I hope you all enjoy! I couldnt get the image of this big beautiful menace with yarn and a hook in his hands 🤣 please comment and reblog! Would y'all like more about him from me?

💕taglist💕: @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @miyuhpapayuh @notapradagurl7 @blackerthings

@thickeeparker @mcondance @blowmymbackout

(I'm sorry, Im not exactly sure who to list 🫣)

[purple-raspberries]

Happy Holidays! I spent it sketching FranklyDear angst!

Remember the hanahaki post?! Yup!

CW// puppet body horror with flowers, floral angst

[click for better quality]

:D

I liked thinking that Eddie, being the more emotionally open of the two, would be more prone to rapid flower growth. Maybe they’d pop out of his mouth, symbolizing his inability or unwillingness to speak out his feelings. The flowers coming out of the heart area are another detail I liked using for all of them! Eddie, I think, would let them build up inside him until they burst through and people start to notice. A hopeless lover. (I spent too much time drawing him haha!)

Frank, on the other hand, would actively cut them out as they built up inside him and made movement difficult. He seems the type to repress everything “unnecessary” or “silly” given the above mentioned situation (unwilling or unable to express love) in order to appear proper. This would also be a figurative act of rejecting those feelings that the flowers represent. Of course, ignoring an emotion often just makes it worse. He’d be the worst off, I think, if the disease got exponentially worse the more you tried to suppress your emotions. Does hanahaki work both ways? Does it work on perceived unrequited love or actual unrequited love? Let’s pretend only one of them has it in each situation :)

But how does the hanahaki get cured in puppets? Magic? Sudden glitter? Invasive surgery with a dose of blooming romance? Do the blooms wither with a slow recovery (sick fic + recovery)? So many options!

Edit: Perhaps instead of death it’s somehow worse. You become essentially a living bouquet or flower bush/patch. Rooted to a spot, uncomfortable and unable to move or speak until your body falls into such disrepair that you simply stop. Oh, what a tear jerker that would be. A too-late to be saved situation with a tragic ending :,)

[chingyu1023vick]

New Mods For Seasons

🎀 Two early accesses and one free mod to celebrate this seasonal time in your Sims game!  I'm grateful to share my happy moments with you guys this year.

~

⭐NEW: Weather Lot Challenges

⏩ A bundle of 42 Lot Challenges to cheat the weather of the current Lot, regardless of the natural weather forecast, worlds, or seasons.

This mod does not override any game tunings, and it works with my other weather mods!

🆗 Compatible with all my other mods and traits.

🧩 Requires EP05 Seasons Expansion Pack

👉 Gameplay Effects of Weather Lot Challenges

These Lot Challenges affect the weather immediately as soon as the Lot is loaded with your Sim on it, and the effects will stay even when the Sim is off the lot until you remove the Lot Challenges. 

They are supposed to be used as cheats for storytelling, easier gameplay, taking screenshots, etc. You are recommended to remove the Lot Challenges from the Lot when you no longer need them so that it won't interfere with your normal gameplay.

Since a Sims world shares the same climate, giving multiple Weather Lot Challenges to different Lots of the same worlds and loading those Lots will cause the weather to switch rapidly.

👑 Mod Info HERE

Early Access HERE

Public Access: Jan 16

~

⭐NEW: Snowy Worlds

⏩ This mod disrespects geography and makes all worlds (except Batuu and secret locations) snowy in winter. 

🤗You can pick what worlds to snow!🤗

This overrides the region tuning and weatherForcastList tuning of those worlds to make the snow fall and accumulate. Please ensure you have no conflicted mods that are editing these game tunings.

🆗 Compatible with all my other mods. Works well with my Nice Climate Mod!!!

🧩 Requires EP05 Seasons and the packs tagged on each package!!!

💘 List of Worlds now have Snowy Winter:

Pick and install only the worlds you have!!!

Ciudad Enamorada_EP16: Lovestruck

Del Sol Valley_EP06: Get Famous

Oasis Springs_BG

Ravenwood_EP17: Life & Death

San Sequoia_EP13: Growing Together

Selvadorada_GP06: Jungle Adventure

Stranger Ville_GP07: StrangerVille

Sulani_EP07: Island Living

Tartosa_GP11: My Wedding Stories

Tomarang_EP15: For Rent

👑 Mod Info HERE

Early Access HERE

Public Access: Jan 16

~

⭐NEW: Nice Climate Mod

⏩ This mod lowers the chance of bad weather like blizzards, heat waves, and thunderstorms.

🆗 Compatible with all my other mods. Works well with my Snowy Worlds!!!

🧩 Requires EP05 Seasons Expansion Pack

👑  Mod Info HERE

Download HERE (Free) 🎁

Have a nice and warm holiday season!

🔆 Changelog in December 2024 HERE

🔹 Links to ALL My Traits, Game Mods, and CCs

🔹List of IDs for creators who want to refer my traits to their own mods 

🔹 List of Chingyu’s CC Traits Name and Descriptions for mod users

🔹 Check Mod Status after a patch & Compatibilities

👁‍🗨 Learn how to install a mod & FAQs

👁‍🗨 Terms of Use

👁‍🗨 Ask Questions/ Suggestions/ Bug Reports on Discord

▶ I need to see a screenshot or LE report to help you figure out what’s wrong!

👁‍🗨 Download on my Patreon

👁‍🗨 Follow me on Twitter

[hazbinshusk]

It’s the holiday season, and I know most of you may be spending an extended period of time with family and friends. So, kind-hearted as I am, I thought I would take a moment to remind you that while you’re spending quality time with them...

Husk Edition

Not to think about Husk sitting next to you at the dinner table, listening along to whatever conversation is playing out around you. He’s working hard not to look so damn sullen – Charlie had managed to track down half the hotel’s actual families for the occasion, yours among them. The two of you might not be so into labels, might not be announcing any time soon what you have between you to the people sitting opposite you, but he still finds himself worrying that they won’t approve.

Don’t think about him sipping at glass of wine or whiskey as he listens to you try and justify whatever crap they’re judging you for now, his other hand making a slow, familiar journey up over your thigh.

You’re not to think about the way it starts out innocently enough – a calming reassurance against the scattered stress of the high holidays. But as the meal carries on into seconds and thirds and the both of you had had a little more than you should to drink, his hand wanders higher, his own anxieties soothed by the feel of your warm skin against his heart-shaped palm.

Don’t think about him kneading into the flesh of your thigh, the softest of purrs rumbling through his chest �� barely audible over the dull roar of warring conversations. His claws digging lightly into your skin, ghosting up just under the hem of the dress you wore to make your mother happy. You can feel the soft breeze of his tail twitching back and forth by your ankle, notice the soft tilt of his lips as you glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

Don’t think of him retracting his claws to tease those long fingers delicately over your inner thigh, or the way that soft smirk twitches wider when you feel yourself part your legs instinctively to his touch. Husk will accept another drink with ease – for once not the bastard who has to serve the drinks – and you’ll have to force your voice not to catch as you tell Niffty that yes, you would like some pie. No, you’ll keep it steady even as you swallow back the whimper that threatens when Husk tugs your underwear to the side and runs a fingertip up against you.

Don’t think about how satisfied he’ll be to find you wet, how his ear will flick greedily towards you to catch that little hitch in your breath as he brushes a finger against your clit. He didn’t intend to do this… he’s not a total creep… but how can he resist when your lips part that way at his touch, your teeth grazing your bottom lip? At the scent of your growing excitement teases at his senses, overpowers the rich smells of the dinner spread across the table. All he can do is thank fuck that Niffty had dressed the table with a long, wide tablecloth that spills out over your laps, and hope you keep letting him get away with this.

Don’t think about the way Husk’s hand is going to feel between your legs; those slow, gentle touches that send those addictive little sparks swirling into the pit of your stomach. The way your hand will clench too tightly around your fork as you try to busy yourself with your food, try to appear like everything is normal even as you begin to desperately wish you could grab him by the arm and drag him off to the nearest private room so you can fuck him until you’ve forgotten all about the guests of honour.

Don’t think about Husk leaning across you as though to reach for the basket of bread rolls, just so that he can murmur in your ear how wet you are, how much he wishes he could bend you over the table right here and taste you. You’ll shudder – whether its because of his words or the way he slides a finger into you, who could tell? His nose just manages to brush against your cheek as he sits back again, and it’ll take everything you have not to turn your head to chase his lips for a kiss.

Don’t think about the way Husk will finger you slowly, steadily, pausing only when people’s eyes begin to linger on you for a moment too long. His thumb teasing against your clit and your face flushing with heat the more you try to keep yourself calm. Your breathing quickens and you’ll swear you can taste blood from where your teeth have been digging into your lip.

Don’t think about the way Husk’s own breathing will grow unsteady when you reach over to clutch at his thigh under the table, shifting your hips as subtly as you can against his hand. It’s amazing you don’t tear his pants with the way you’re gripping at his leg, and Husk’s tail curls around your calf, and he has to dampen his purr with another whiskey.

Don’t think about how badly he’ll wish he could fuck you. To kiss you even… to feel you moan against his tongue. He wants to taste you…  to suck your sweetness off his fingers or to better yet, bury his face btween your thighs and feel them squeeze around his ears as he assaults your clit with his tongue.

And whatever you do, don’t think about how goddamned pleased the bartender will look when you finally cum, your body jerking enough that you knock the table and the cutlery rattles against the wood. Just how quickly do you think you’d be able to make enough excuses so you can get the both of you away from the table and back to his room for round two?

[ivohex]

who do you like more? || LADS 🔞

"Of course you'd start without me," Xavier grumbles, shooting Lumiere a dirty look over your shoulder. "I couldn't keep our little bunny waiting, could I?"

Summary: Lumiere suddenly appears in Linkon City. You and Xavier make the most of things.

Rating: E for EXPLICIT. MDNI! 🔞 Mind the tags!

Word Count: ~1.2k

Relationship: Xavier x fem!Reader x Lumiere

Tags: complete and utter filth, barely edited, plot what plot, consensual nonconsent, MFM threesome, double penetration, first time anal fingering/anal sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, rough sex, spanking, handjob (Lumiere on Xavier), selfcest, creampies, use of bunny/little bunny and good girl as petnames, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, come eating, hair pulling, lumiere calls xavier little prince, jealousy, dirty talking, 100% ooc but idec, lumiere topping xavier topping you

Note: While I'm working on requests(!!!) please enjoy this short fic featuring you getting railed by both Xavier and Lumiere because I'm depraved. Merry Christmas 🤪

Smut below the cut!

"Of course you'd start without me," Xavier grumbles, shooting Lumiere a dirty look over your shoulder.

"I couldn't keep our little bunny waiting, could I?"

Lumiere emphasizes his point with a sharp upwards thrust, and your cunt clenches around him greedily. You brace your hands against his chest, gripping the lapels of his coat and panting, while two glittering eyes stare back at you behind his silver mask. His hands slide up your bare waist, encouraging you to grind against him.

One of Xavier's hands kneads your breasts, the other coming to clutch at your jaw and force your head to the side. "Don't look at him. Look at me," he breathes, and then his lips close over yours in a bruising kiss. His hips bump into your backside, and you can feel his length pressing insistently against your ass.

"You've always been selfish, little prince," Lumiere chides Xavier. He reaches around to grab the other man's hips, bringing him to a sudden stop.

You've never heard Xavier growl the way he does now, and the sound goes straight to your cunt.

"Be still," Lumiere commands. "We have to prep you."

You squeak as he yanks you against his chest. One of his hands encircles your wrists and holds them in place at the small of your back.

"Wait," you whimper, but neither pay you any mind.

"Xavier," Lumiere says, nodding his chin towards the nightstand.

You can practically feel Xavier glaring at Lumiere as he plucks the bottle and pops the cap open. In the silence that follows, all you can hear is the sound of your own panicked breathing. You try to twist to look at Xavier, but Lumiere won't let you.

"Eyes on me," he demands. You struggle to meet his gaze, shivering at the heat you see simmering in his eyes.

Behind you, something cold and wet gently grazes your other hole.

You thrash in Lumiere's grip. "Wa-wait—oh, fuck—"

A fingertip presses into the tight ring of muscle. He rubs your thigh soothingly. "You have to relax, bunny."

"I-I can't—"

Lumiere interrupts you with another pointed thrust. When you cry out, he brings one of his hands between your legs, and gently strokes his thumb against your clit. "Yes, you can. Breathe."

You focus on steadying your shuddering breaths. Xavier keeps prodding you, pushing deeper each time until his entire finger slips inside.

It isn't a sensation you're used to at all—but as he adds a second and third finger, you can't stop yourself from rocking back onto his hand.

"Does it feel good, bunny?" Xavier breathes into your ear, nibbling on your lobe in the way he knows you like. But before you can speak, his hand is suddenly picking up its speed.

When you don't answer, Lumiere jerks his hips again again, hard. You let out a sharp cry. "Answer us," he murmurs, his soft tone contrasted against the way that Xavier's fingers are pistoning in and out of your tight hole. "Do you like it?"

"N—ah, fuck! I—" Your words break off into moans as Lumiere starts thrusting into you.

"You didn't let her finish," Xavier snaps, withdrawing his fingers. You whimper, and you aren't sure if it's out of relief or desperation. "I guess we'll have to keep going to see if she likes it or not."

Lumiere slows. "Come here," he says to Xavier.

Xavier shuffles forward, and this time, Lumiere lets you watch as he wraps a fist around Xavier's cock. Wordlessly, Xavier grabs the bottle of lube again and squeezes a few drops onto Lumiere's hand.

Lumiere strokes, and Xavier's composure crumples for the first time. You stare, enraptured, as his hips jerk forward, and he fucks himself into Lumiere's fist.

"I should make him cum like this instead of letting him cum inside you," Lumiere muses. The muscles in his forearms tense as he grips even tighter, and Xavier's head falls back as he lets out a shaky moan. "I bet I could. I doubt he can last as long as me."

The glare Xavier shoots Lumiere has you clenching on his cock, and Lumiere inhales sharply, glancing at you with a warning look.

"Careful," Xavier says, his voice dark and low. "Or I'll make you eat your words."

Lumiere just scoffs, wiping his hand on the sheets. "Ready?"

You aren't sure who he's talking to, but you suppose it doesn't matter as he grabs the plush of your ass and spreads you apart. You feel Xavier moving behind you again, and then the tip of his cock presses against your ass.

You make an attempt at a sudden escape. Xavier's hand slaps down on your ass, hard, and you keen, but keep struggling. Lumiere grips a fistful of your hair and pulls, and you're forced into submission, whimpering.

"Don't fight us," Xavier whispers against the shell of your ear. "Be a good girl, okay?" His hand soothes the red mark on your ass, and he pushes a little further, his tip breaching the ring of your ass.

"No—oh—"

Xavier groans behind you, his hips stuttering forward, his cock settling deeper with each tiny movement, until he's finally nestled all the way in.

You've never been this full. And you aren't sure you'll ever settle for less again. This has ruined you.

They only give you a moment to adjust. Xavier breaks first, his arms wrapping around your waist as he starts thrusting.

"You're so fucking tight," Lumiere grits out, his hands gripping your hips in a way that you know will leave bruises. "Fuck—you like this. I can feel you clenching."

His hips raise to meet yours, and then you're gone.

They fuck you brutally through your first orgasm into a second. The burn, the stretch—it's so delicious, so mind-numbingly good that it has your eyes rolling back. Skin slaps against skin, echoing against the walls, the sound as decadent as it is obscene.

Xavier suddenly wrenches you upright, pulling you by the hair against his chest, and bites down on your neck. Lumiere's hand chases your clit, rubbing you roughly, sending you screaming into a third orgasm.

They had both called you bunny, but they were the ones fucking you like animals in heat.

"I'm gonna—" Xavier gasps.

"Ah, fuck, I'm—" Lumiere starts.

You feel them both tense up. A moment later, you're keening again as they spill inside of you, filling you with a hot, liquid heat.

Then you're laying on your back, Lumiere stroking your hair as Xavier settles between your legs, using his fingers to gather up the mess they'd made and push it back into your cunt.

The overstimulation has you moaning brokenly, even as you clench on his fingers. "Xavier, don't..."

"What's the safe word, bunny?" Lumiere asks.

"Red," you murmur.

They wait. You don't say it.

Of course you don't.

"Good girl," Xavier breathes, dipping his head down to tongue at your entrance.

"Don't go to sleep, bunny," Lumiere says, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. His hand slides down your form to rub your clit in slow, gentle circles as Xavier laps greedily at your cunt. "We aren't done playing with you yet."

Thanks for reading! Make sure to give this a like and reblog if you liked it! ❤️

[vengefultakeover]

Daemon: Loose Lid (2)

NOTE: This is the newest edited version of this story

I got up from the bed and looked back at Max sleeping after the long night of exploring his new body. To be fair, he did plenty of exploring my body as well, rolling between the sheets. Never in my life did I think I would find myself in this situation, but I was full of curiosity. I left him on the bed, a slight snore coming from under the blankets, and went to the kitchen to make some coffee. The smell swirled in the air and I enjoyed the scent as I sipped it in front of the machine. Halfway empty, the mug made a small clink as I placed it down on the counter and returned to the bedroom.

Max was grinning at me when I leaned against the wall and he rolled to the edge of the bed, sliding down his underwear to expose the plump mounds Dan had worked so hard on. With a blink, his eyes flicked from their usual hazel to the bright green of the creature currently controlling Dan.

"This body craves you." Max said with a little bit of a growl. I don't think Dan was actually craving me, but the daemon inside him getting to feel human lust.

I was too distracted by the mating display to see the covered jar sliding off the night stand and landing on the carpet with a thunk. The lid, which had come loose from Dan desperately bouncing around inside of it, popped off and rolled along the floor as I quickly scrambled to stop it. Max dug his head into the mattress to avoid his mouth from being exposed, but Dan didn't care much as he bounced off the walls. My eyes followed the blue ball until it went straight for me. I ducked, hearing it bounce off the wall behind me, and then looked up just in time to watch it fly directly towards his exposed hole. With a loud pop the protoplasm disappeared between his cheeks and up into his body. Max howled as he turned over, writhing against the bedspread as he scrambled to pull off his shirt. His chest began to glow and I quickly closed the curtains in the bedroom to avoid any sunlight pouring into the room.

With his back arched, I watched as Max appeared from his chest. He was forced out of his body and landed on two feet in front of me still too large for the room and ducking down to fit. Dan on the other hand woke up in control of his body and was panting as he looked at the two of us in horror.

"Dan, don't panic. I know - " I started.

"No! What the fuck just happened? What the hell is that?" He started to push himself away from us, stumbling off the bed and out into the kitchen without seeing an answer to his questions. As he stumbled, he knocked my half full cup of coffee off the counter and it exploded on the tile. Max jumped into action and caught him at the front door, breathing his green breath into his face. Dan collapsed in Max's grip and he looked over at me with a questioning glance.

"I think it's time we found someone else."

Max needed to stay inside in order to remain safe and made sure all of the blinds were closed. Without a human body protecting him he couldn't go anywhere during daylight hours. This meant that I was left to search for potential bodies. I didn't mind, I was vetting pretty much everyone in our apartment complex. I thought about all the neighbors and one particular asshole came to mind.

The thing about Dan was that he's a good guy. He deserved his body back. I should also say that I am not the end all be all of deciding who deserves their body. That being said, my neighbor is an asshole. Alex is a cocky and cruel son of a bitch. A combo that is particularly deadly considering how hot he is. His mental acuity wasn't great, causing him to puff out his chest to maintain physical superiority when he didn't have the mental one. It only took two knocks for him to open the door, answering it without a shirt and on the phone.

"Hold on, my weird neighbor is at the door, I'll call you back." He hung up, "What's up?"

"Hey there, neighbor, I just needed your assistance. I was - um - making breakfast and I -"

He interrupted me with one of his lighting fast retorts, "Couldn't open a jar with those chicken arms?" He flexed his biceps. This was the usual conversation, he always found a way to talk about his body. I at least had height going for me.

"Yeah, that's exactly it. How did you know?" I was a little smug, but it went right over his head as he followed me inside my apartment. With all the curtains closed, it was relatively dark, which piqued his concern.

"Why is it so dark. You should really open a window, maybe that's why none of the neighbors like you." The airhead was already too far inside and Max slammed the door shut. He picked up the jock like he was weightless and growled at him. He opened his mouth to scream, but Max didn't give him enough time as he started digging in his chest, pulling out his protoplasm with a wet slurp. Alex slumped in his grip and I put him in a fresh jar. This time, I made sure it was airtight before putting it in a drawer in the kitchen. Max climbed over his body and growled at him as he pushed his lips open and started turning into the glimmering dust to enter his body. Max looked back at me just before his demon dog head swirled inside of his body and Alex was convulsing as Max got comfortable inside him.

As he stood, I could tell he felt different inside him. He stretched a bit and walked towards the window to see him in the light. The sliver of sun that slipped in through the fabric travelled the length of his body, standing there is a sexy confidence as his new skin protected him. His eyes flashed green, happy with his new host.

"He feels different than your friend, bigger, stronger," He turned towards me, "hornier." His grin was inviting and I leaned back as he came over, pushing me onto my sofa and straddling me until he decided to push his lips against mine and we were making out. My cock was bulging and I slid off my briefs from underneath us, my cock bouncing out and slapping against his ass cheeks. He removed his workout shorts and I felt his warm ass lowering onto my hard member. I gasped, feeling his hole swallow my cock and he playfully tightened his hole as he took more of me inside him.

"Holy shit." I moaned, pulling him tight into me and making out as I was grinding into him. His pecs bounced with every thrust upwards and my fingers dug into the his muscular back, feeling his whole body against mine tighter as I fucked him. He curled himself into me, gyrating his hips onto my cock as his eyes glowed the beautiful green. I couldn't help but to grab his neck and force him harder onto my cock, slamming his body down like he was a fleshlight. He was smiling as he licked his lips and suddenly I was exploding inside his hole, filling him up as I pushed my head back into the sofa. When I opened my eyes, Max was peering down at me with a smirk, playing with my cock with his hole as I came down from the blissful ecstasy.

"Mmm, I could do that forever." He says, lifting himself off of me. He admires his new form, running his hands along his skin and flexing underneath his fingertips. His fingers circled parts of his skin that had tattoos, admiring the inked images. He even takes a moment to bring his hands up to his ears, flicking the earring.

"I like you inside him. He's much more appealing with you in control." I reach behind him and squeeze his ass, feeling my load drip out of him.

"Oh, do that again." He says, holding my arms in place to do it again. I squeeze again with a little bit more aggression and he shivers. "All of these sensations. It's so different from one body to another." He takes a deep breath, smelling me. Seeing him act like this was making me hard again and I gyrated against him. He smirks with a flash of his green eyes and then reaches back, pulling his cheeks apart and slamming himself down on my cock with an already full ass.

"Holy fuck." I writhe under him.

"Like I said, I could do this forever." He gives me a wet kiss.

A phone buzzes underneath a pile of papers and continues to vibrate until the phone buzzes off the edge of the desk and thumps against the wood floor below. A hand blindly reaches for it and answers it.

"Hello?" The voice is deep and he clears his throat from the early wake up haze. With one hand he wipes away a string of drool connected to the desk where he passed out the night before with an empty glass of hard liquor now watered down by the melted ice.

"It's the Daemon Ritus. It's been stolen." The voice on the other end seemed to be screaming over the sound of the alarms and the man on the phone stood there in silence.

"Fred? Are you there?" The alarms continued to blare as Fred stood there already formulating a plan.

[bookworm-with-coffee]

Just a Kiss This Christmas. . . 🎄☃️

(Christmas Eve with Your Faves - Assassin's Creed III, Rogue and Syndicate Edition)

Plot; Little Christmas themed comfort imagines

Pairings;

Haytham Kenway x Reader (Romantic)

Connor Kenway (Ratonhnhaké:ton) x Reader (Romantic)

Shay Cormac x Reader (Romantic)

Liam O'Brien x Reader (Romantic)

Jacob Frye x Reader (Romantic)

Evie Frye x Reader (Romantic)

Lydia Frye x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; mature themes, tooth-rotting fluff, a pinch of angst here and there, implied smut, mentions of alcohol/alcohol consumption, mentions of war/warzones and violence

_______________________________________

Haytham Kenway

Outside the fogged windows, gentle snowfall was on display. Winds rustled the trees and laughter echoed in the streets.

Houses lined the roads, warmed with crackling fires and the mirth of togetherness and peace. Taverns bustled with those celebrating the coming of what was considered the best holiday of the year, cheerful music floating in the chill of the winter air.

The perfect Christmas Eve.

Your heart was soaring, not sparing a care to the coldness of the floorboards and tiling beneath your feet; finding yourself warmed by the fires of the oven.

The smell of spices floated through the halls of your home, your freshly baked gingerbread now cooling on a rack. It was an effort not to pull the scalding biscuits from the metal, to devour them immediately; but your focus on your brewing hot chocolate stole any chance of impulse.

Your lips curled up at the lightly thickened milk, stirring at your homemade concoction. Now having the desired consistency, you poured the rich beverage into two mugs, sparing a look over your shoulder.

A sigh passed through your nostrils, spying the time displayed on the wall clock. Thirty minutes past the ninth hour. With a soft loneliness tugging at your heart, you pondered how much longer it would be until Haytham retreated from his office.

Templar affairs had kept him occupied for many days and hours throughout the holiday season, as to be expected when being the Grandmaster of the Colonial. But, you knew that Christmas was one of the few occasions Haytham liked, also aware of how easily time got away from him when occupied with work. He had already missed the Templar Christmas Eve party over in the local tavern, but he would not miss an evening with you. Christmas Eve, especially.

Templar business be damned. It was up to you to save him from his undoubtedly large workload.

The hot chocolate would undoubtedly be a convincing point. Aside from yourself, of course.

Already in your nightdress, you discarded your apron and threw on your winter robes for your journey upstairs, baring an almost giddy smile whilst you climbed them.

You spied the dim lights from under the wooden door, moving to open it without knocking. "Grandmaster", you announced yourself, his head raising from the piles of parchment littered on his desk. His piercing blues were on you in an instant, already tracing over your approaching form with a cocked brow.

"You have not called me by that title since the days before our courtship", Haytham remarked with some amusement, the corners of his lips faintly curling upward. "And even then, you had little regard for it".

"What makes you think that has changed?", you quipped with a laugh. "I had to get your attention somehow. My baking clearly wasn't enough".

His smile grew at your ploy of feigning hurt, your eyes drifting to the words upon the papers. Correspondences from all corners of the world, all of them bearing the seal of the Templars. Did no one in the Order celebrate Christmas??

"My deepest apologies", Haytham crooned with the licks of playful sarcasm dancing in his velvet voice. "However will I make up for such an indiscretion?".

With mischief twinkling in your keen eyes, you grinned, lifting the hem of your nightdress to allow yourself to be seated upon and stradling his larger thighs.

Haytham's quill and papers were long forgotten as his warm hands moved to hold your waist, fingers tracing imaginary patterns into the thin materials separating you both and heating the skin beneath.

Admiration glittered in the depths of his gaze as it trailed over the cascading waves of your hair and the supple skin left exposed by your strappy nightdress and robes, those eyes no longer harsh or commanding. No longer the eyes of the Grandmaster everyone else knew.

There was a softness and vulnerability to Haytham's hues now, clearly displaying his contentment in being trapped within your embrace. A deep sigh expelled from him, relishing in the way your delicate fingers spindled into his silken locks and drew lines over his chest. "Can you think of nothing?", your words were a murmur over his skin, setting it alight with goosebumps.

With his tired eyes now closed, your lips pressed featherlight kisses to his heavy eyelids, his arms pulling you flush against his chest. Descending the curviture of his face, your lips finally met with his own in soft and lazy caresses.

Haytham's hands moved to cradle your face, his tongue drawing along the seam of your lips before they parted eagerly. Your hips shifted against his own in your attempt to get closer, a soft grunt heaving from the Grandmaster's throat and sparking his next course of action.

A small yelp passed through your interlocked lips when the Master Templar heaved you from his lap and onto his desk, the piling letters now sweeping to the floor to accommodate your presence.

Your body arched into his frame, his lips tearing from your own to start leaving a searing trail along your jaw.

"I can think of something ", he mused, pressing his hips into your own.

"Haytham!", you giggled, his skillful touches never failing to leave you weak and at his mercy. "What about the hot chocolate??".

Haytham's low chuckle was a breath against the skin of your neck. "I think you'll find that I have other priorities", his voice remained a sultry whisper, slowly working affectionate pecks towards your naval. "Starting with you ".

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Connor Kenway / Ratonhnhaké:ton

"Connor, my friend!", Norris greeted the young Assassin, tipsy with the few drinks he'd had. But, he was a merry man, deep in the high spirits of the holiday season. It was Christmas Eve, after all.

"Norris", he nodded in acknowledgement, sparing the hints of a smile for his friend, the latter having spied the direction in which the younger man's almond hues had fixated.

With a cheerful smile that reached his eyes, the miner brushed his elbow against Connor's, "Your eyes bore into a beautiful woman, and yet you waste the night lingering here in the shadows instead of talking to her".

Connor's cheeks grew hot at the accusation, his lashes fluttering and ripping his gaze from where you stood amongst the crowds of the party. "I don't know what you are implying".

Norris' gaze turned knowingly to the younger man, his brows raised, "You do not? Then perhaps, you will not mind it if I tell her—".

"Norris", Connor warned, an underlying threat sitting in his brown hues. The older man sighed, his smile refusing to dissipate even in the wake of his counterpart's intimidation.

"Why not talk to her?? Mingle with the party!", he insisted, waving his arms to gesture to the warm atmosphere of the gathering.

"I am not one for celebrations", the young Assassin replied with a tug to his shoulders. "I would much rather watch others making merry".

"And miss all the fun? An opportunity to speak to (Y/n)??", Norris gaped. "Inacceptable!".

"What would you have me do?", Connor asked with a sense of hopelessness. "I have nothing to offer her but an absent partner and a broken heart! I have not the time to court a woman as wonderful as her". He spared a glance to where you stood once more with Miriam, his heart squeezing at the beauty of your laugh. The placement of your dimples and the way the light of your happiness always met with the warmth of your eyes, his own returning to Norris. "Even if I wanted to, with every fibre of my heart".

The Frenchman nodded, understanding the feathersoft yearning that twinkled in Connor's deep gaze. Alike to the one he used to have for Miriam before their marriage.

"Connor", he sighed. "I am certain a woman like (Y/n) would have considered all of these things beforehand! She is headstrong". His smile grew when adding, "The way I hear it from Miriam, (Y/n) hardly ceases singing praise about you".

Connor's heart stilled, his brows drawing together amidst his surprise. "She speaks about me??".

" 'Gushing', is probably a proper word for it, my friend. Women do that when they are en transe by a man, no??".

"I believe so??", Connor's reply came out more like a question than a statement.

"Then why wait in the shadows any longer?", Norris pressed. "Eventually, another man will seize the opportunity to sweep (Y/n) off her feet!". The young Assassin felt a short sting of envy in his chest, his eyes drifting downward. "Do not let yourself feel the regret by not acting now. She is the woman of your dreams, Connor. You deserve that much".

Norris gently clapped Connor's larger shoulder whilst the latter mulled over his friend's wise words, not realising the truth of them until now.

If he were to wait any longer, another man would surely take the opportunity to win your heart. Any sane man would. You were truly a beautiful individual.

You have a selfless heart and a ready mind, encompassing all in your warmth and compassion, inclusive of Connor himself.

Every soft touch of your hands brushing his or holding his arm, every embrace shared after returning from his months away had ensnared his heart, melting away the hardened exterior he often wore. You'd broken through it all with patience, listening to his inner expressions without judgement.

He knew then, that he needed to give your relationship a chance. Even if the price was hurt.

"Connor", your melodic voice snapped him from his daze, a friendly smile shining from your expression despite your concern. "What are you doing back here all by yourself??".

In alarm, Connor's eyes frantically searched for Norris, finding the space beside him now vacant. The older man was finally spotted beside his wife, raising both thumbs in encouragement at the Assassin.

"I just wished to be alone", he offered a quick excuse.

"Alone?", your brows creased. "On Christmas Eve??".

"I am not one for parties", Connor elaborated, his lips subconsciously quirking upwards to match your lighthearted expression.

"I understand", you conceded with a short laugh. "Neither am I, if I'm honest. I'm glad to be away from the bustle".

Leaning against the wall beside him, your bright hues spared him a fond glance whilst you added, "That's why I came to see you". Connor's brows rose,

"Really??". You nodded.

"I hope you don't mind, but I find your company soothing, Connor".

"The feeling is mutual", he assured. "Your words and presence are both a comfort to me, and welcome at any time".

For a moment, you seemed in thought, your eyes finally flickering back to his own. "I want to thank you", you confessed, irking a confused tilt of his head.

"What for??".

"For saving me", you whispered. "For offering me a better life here, away from oppression and struggle. Those things are now a fading memory. Thanks to you".

Connor's heart warmed within his chest, humbled entirely by your words. His lips parted to utter an insistence that his efforts were minimal and knowing this, your hand raised to halt the words about to tumble out.

A nervous, breathy laugh escaped him, unable to mask his endearment for you as his darker orbs travelled the delicate features of your face. Your hand had moved to rest on the clasp of his hands, the warmth of his fingers slowly intwining with yours.

"I am grateful for you", Connor murmured, feeling a surge of courage to reveal what lay in his heart. "You are a remarkable woman, (Y/n). And I consider myself very blessed to have you in my life".

His admittance left you at a loss of words, furthered by the gentle caress of the hand that came to cradle your cheek. Connor's thumb traced over your cheekbone, stilling the breaths in your throat before he continued, "I would be honoured if you would share it with me".

With his nose now brushing your own, your lashes fluttered at the welcome proximity, breathing, "Yes", as you saw fit to close the rest of the gap, your other hand reaching to grip at his hair when the heat of his lips finally reached yours.

They were supple, moving in calming touches with your own, like a summer's breeze. Refreshing and soft.

Connor's breaths exhaled against your skin and heaved in your sweet scent, his chocolate hues fluttering open when your lips had pulled from his own. You grasped the hand interlaced with yours, eyes halflidded given the closeness you still shared.

"Do you think Achilles will notice your absence?", you gnawed on your bottom lip hopefully.

"To hell with him", Connor grunted, his lips sealing with yours again before he lead you discretely from the party room and up the stairs to resume your celebrations elsewhere..

Translations (French to English);

Inacceptable = unacceptable

En transe = Entranced

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Shay Cormac

Winter was always a dreaded time within the colonies, with only the exception of Christmas for most people. It was a time of year that you often found yourself yearning for the warmth of a home and family.

With the stars glimmering above, you'd wished upon them all for what seemed like the thousandth time by your eighth year in life.

Upon the softness of the grass, you lay with company, the autumn coolness high in the air. It wouldn't be long until the snowfall now.

Your fingers sat snugly interlocked in the grasp of your best friend, tilting your head to glance at his philosophical expression, ever a dreamer like yourself. Two children, lying beneath the shimmering lights of the stars.

"How's your face feeling?", you asked with some amusement, Shay's face brightening at the sound of your voice.

"Better now", he answered, using his spare hand to brush over the small blue spot marking his cheek. "It was you, I was worried about".

"Shay", you sighed. "You didn't have to—".

"I did", he cut in firmly, his brows creasing in seriousness. "That boy had no business trying to take your hard-earned food. I showed him the meaning of 'respect'. About time someone did".

The brunette beside you squeezed your fingers, offering a playful wink to pair with the reassuring smile he offered, the gaps on display in his teeth irking you to giggle. "Thank you", you grinned, turning your gaze back towards the skies above.

A comfortable silence ensued between you both before you piped up once more. "Shay?".

"Yeah?", his head panned towards you.

"Do you think that maybe one Christmas, we'll have a family? Be surrounded by loved ones?? Have food to eat and the warmth of a fire?".

Shay's hazel hues seemed contemplative before he answered, "Absolutely". Your brows rose, keen to listen as he continued, "We'll have families one day and big houses and even comfortable beds! You'll see, (Y/n)! When we grow up, everything will finally be alright for us. I just know it!".

That night, you both wished upon every star for Shay's prediction to come to fruition. And with twenty years' passing, Christmas Eve had finally come again.

Snowflakes floated through the air, children playing in the streets. Windows were frosted and the familiar smells of freshly baked goods were carried through the bustling streets.

Merriment and mirth were upon everyone's lips, well-wishes being spread like wildfires. The city of New York was far from perfect, yet it was prosperous, even moreso with the coming of this beloved holiday.

The Morrigan had docked for the first time in months only a few nights ago, Templar business soaring in the season. It was a relief to finally be back on dry land, especially for yourself and Shay; the latter delayed by affairs of the Order.

Never more eager to leave them behind, Shay's steps were brisk in the inches of snow left on the ground. "Are you quite sure you won't be joining us tonight, Captain?", the audacious Mr Gist had asked, excitement lacing through his tone. "I hear that Thomas Hickey is going to try and scull five pints of rum this year, as opposed to his record of three". The blonde laughed at the quizzical expression offered by his counterpart. "It should prove to be quite a show, indeed".

Shay's lips quirked up at his quartermaster's humour, ever grateful for Gist's good spirits, before he replied, "I'm celebrating Christmas Eve elsewhere tonight. A promise to a friend".

Gist spared a hearty chuckle, nodding in his clear understanding. "Very good, Captain". There was a knowing glint in his eyes when he added, "I will pass on your regards to the others, so long as you will pass mine on to (Y/n)".

There was no hiding anything from the perceptive quartermaster, Shay noted before grinning at his friend when the offer to shake hands was presented. "Thank you, Master Gist. You are relieved until the New Year", the brunette accepted.

"It has been an honour serving with you this year, Shay", Gist assured him humbly, releasing the friendly hold.

"And you", Shay's head inclined, finally farewelling the blonde before his journey lead him through a familiar set of gates not far from the port.

The chill of the winter air whipped at him incessantly until he reached the doors of his destination. Somewhere he hadn't been in the longest time. Home.

He needed only to knock on the hardwood doors before they swung open, bringing with it, the cozy and fruity smells of mulled wine and hot foods.

"Shay!", your arms were quick to pull the Irishman inside, from the cold and into your warm embrace. He stumbled for a moment, being much taller than yourself, yet never more relieved to be anywhere else but your kind arms.

Your lips hit his cheek in a quick peck, closing the front doors behind him and sealing out the cold. Shay's cheek tingled with the heat your touch left, his lips curled into a grin of delight at seeing your own.

"I was getting worried that I'd have to drag you from the Morrigan myself", you huffed with amusement.

"And you would've", Shay conceded.

"Bloody right, I would've". Your comment earned a soft giggle from the brunette, your eyes turning again to meet his as you shuffled around. "Merry Christmas, Shay".

"Merry Christmas, (Y/n)", he returned, noticing then that the halls of your shared home were decorated. Holly and vines of green bush were hung in abundance, even a tree in the corner, where most of the month everything had been bare.

A sense of wonder had filled Shay's hazel hues as they travelled the dimly lit halls. This would be not only his first Christmas back on dry land, but yours as well. For many years, you both missed Christmas. The Assassins often had you both scouring the Earth for artifacts; and the last few years, the Templars had you both embarking on diplomatic business.

As you both were rarely on dry land, Shay provided you with a home for you both to share, so that you would not waste what money you earned paying off a house that you would barely use. It was the least he could do for the best friend who had stuck through it all with him. And continued to do so.

Although now, in your adulthood, it felt like so much more than just a simple close friendship.

"Like it?", your voice brought the Irishman from his enthralled daze, his own voice sounding far away when he commented,

"It's lovely. Truly". He nodded, offering a pleased smile to you at last. "I can't believe you decorated! And is that—", the brunette sniffed the air. "— mulled wine?".

"And dinner", you laughed, his face blanching.

"You cooked as well??", Shay gaped. "How— you didn't have to— why??". His head tilted, genuinely in shock at the kindness of your actions.

"Well, you can hardly expect me to sit on my arse and twiddle my thumbs for the whole three days I was off from work!". You grasped his gloved hands, removing the covers to hold the heated skin beneath instead. "So, I occupied myself!".

Leading him into the kitchen, Shay was further surprised at the sight of some carved turkey on two plates, still steaming from the oven. You'd even baked some seasoned potatoes, glistening with butter and herbs— and was that cranberry sauce on the side??

You turned to the Irishman's stunned expression at last, the latter's eyes seeming to bulge from his skull out of shock whilst he insisted, "(Y/n), you didn't have to do this!".

Squeezing his hand to offer him reassurance, you laughed again. "I know!". Your thumb ran strokes over his knuckles, your gaze timidly shifting around in your excitement. "It's just— we've never had a proper Christmas, always being away and all, so I wanted to do this for you as much as myself. I wanted to give us a real Christmas!", you confessed. "Just like the ones we always spoke about as children".

"It's more than I could've imagined or deserved", Shay breathed out, his lashes fluttering whilst he grounded himself. At last, his hazel gaze met yours, glimmering with the hints of something unreadable to your own. "Thank you, (Y/n), for everything. I know my decisions have cost us everything from stability to the things we wanted as children, like marriage—", his eyes flickered downwards. "— or a family, but—".

"Shay", you cut in gently with a note of disapproval, gathering his gaze once more. "You are my family".

A smile returned to your face, the Irishman's eyes tracking your every movement. Your fingertips reached upwards, folding a stray few strands of his hair behind his ear.

"Remaining by your side was my decision. Leaving you was not and is not an option for me". Your thumb ran across the sharpness of his cheekbone, feeling the growing warmth of his skin beneath your touch. "Those dreams we had as children— the Assassins, the Templars— none of that could ever matter to me as much as you do".

Leaning onto the tips of your toes, your lips pressed a featherlight kiss against his forehead, murmuring against his skin, "You're all the family I need, Shay. As long as I have you, nothing else matters. I love you".

With such a raw confession hanging in the air, Shay didn't let your close proximity break. His arms curled around your waist, holding you upon your tiptoes with his lips close enough to brush with your own.

Shay awaited any attempt for you to pull away, finding no discomfort sitting in your orbs when at last his lips graced yours. Every part of you gave in to the careful strokes of his flesh with yours, feeling their cold and tasting the salt from the sea breeze that still lingered with him.

The Irishman finally recognised the ever blooming strength of the feeling that had always been there in his heart. It was as if an epiphany had struck him in the electric feeling of your kiss, your words having sparked the realisation of why your close friendship had felt like more.

It always had been.

"I love you too", his thickened brogue fanned over your lips after the kiss had broken. Shay's forehead sat against yours, cherishing the closeness and mingling of your breaths.

"We do have to eat first", a breathy chuckle fell from you, mirrored by Shay's laugh whilst your fingertips tracing the sharpness of his jawline.

"Must we?", his pout was playful, fondness once again dancing in his hazel hues.

"Afraid so".

"It shouldn't matter, as long as I have you". Shay's shoulders tugged, his statement endearing until he added, "Because if I eat all my dinner, I get dessert ". Sparing you a flirtatious wink in his passing into the kitchen, your mouth hung open incredulously.

This would be a long night, indeed...

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Liam O'Brien

Life on the open seas. The salty air and biting breeze of the Atlantic a bitter reminder to you that you were far from the comforts found in being on land. Being home.

Assassin work never ceased, even with the Christmas season soon coming to a close the day after next. Christmas Eve had come again and you were surrounded by an endless amount of ocean that stretched to every direction of the horizons with only silence for company.

The hour was late, the crew of the Morrigan having set anchor hours ago to retire to their quarters and the seas were calm, the ship hardly rocking with the sway of the waters.

You should have been sleeping too. Being the crew's navigator, rest was an essential part of your job. To stay focused, to have a ready mind should your Assassin bretheren call up on your skillset.

It was for naught.

You missed the mirthfulness of being on dry land, being at the Homestead with your brothers and sisters. You missed the people rejoicing for the year's end, giving gifts and thanks for each other. You even missed the decorating of those silly pine trees and the smell of your baked goods. You missed Christmas. And you missed spending it with Liam, the quartermaster of the ship having always been a big part of your celebrations since before your time as an Assassin.

Every Christmas Eve, the bald Irishman made it a habit to ditch his duty of babysitting Shay for one night and spend the evening with you however which way you both saw fit.

Last year, Liam had taken you for ice-skating on the lake by the Homestead, as the weather finally permitted it. It also had something to do with the fact that you spent every day of that dreaded month whinging in his ear about how you'd love to learn how to ice-skate, begging asking him to teach you. How then, with you as persistent and stubborn as Shay, was he able to refuse??

The year before, Liam had barely made it to port in time, surprising you with his appearance at your front door in the evening. You'd felt so disheartened at the prospect of him being away from home, away from you that Christmas, that you'd nearly broken his back from the force of your embrace when you pulled his larger form through the door.

He never came empty handed, although you always insisted upon it.

"You're giving me the best meal I've had in months, Love", he'd say with a laugh. "Least I can do is give y' something for the trouble".

Liam would gift you trinkets he'd find at sea or on missions and although your respective careers as Assassins allowed little time for feelings or emotions, something about Liam makes every trouble feel small and any place feel like home.

You were relieved to be travelling with him and Shay this year, the bald Irishman having sung praise about your navigational expertise— one that could rival Chevalier's. And despite being no closer to the mission's end, you missed the intimacy of your traditions with your dearest friend who was undoubtedly sleeping soundly.

Or so you'd thought.

"What's this then?", Liam's voice startled you from your daze. "Sorry", he apologised with a soft laugh, moving to lean on the ship's railing alongside you.

"Can't sleep?", your question made him grin.

"Shouldn't I be the one to ask you that?". His amused expression quickly morphed into one of concern. "What's got y' so troubled?".

"It's Christmas Eve", your reply confused him, before you elaborated. "And look where we are. No land for miles, just water".

"I never knew being at sea would bother you so much", his brows drew together. "It can be hard, being so isolated. I can always ask Shay to—".

"It's not that, Liam".

"Then what?", his question was paired with a light tilting of his head, green hues fixed on you with that same gentle and attentive nature.

"There's no traditions or fun this year. No break from our work— we just don't stop. Every year, we always found something new to do, but it never mattered to me what we did. We always had each other, Liam. And maybe, just maybe, I—".

"Miss it?", he finished, coaxing something of a sheepish nod from you.

Darting up from the clasp of your hands, your gaze met Liam's, something fond and understanding in the way his lips curled into that crooked and beloved smile.

Hues of blue, purple and green suddenly illuminated his face in a heavenly symphony of colours and lights, stealing the breath from your lungs as your gazes travelled upward in realisation.

For the first time in your months on the sea, the Aurora Borealis made herself known to the only two beings awake on the ocean, dancing in many waves across the glittering skies.

"Come now", Liam said gathering your immediate attention when extending a palm to you. "I think we've found our fun for this year".

The warmth of his hand quickly enveloped yours, beckoning you near with the lightest of tugs. Your mingling breaths misted in the cold, your being craving the heat that endlessly radiated from the male before you.

Just like your dance on the ice the previous year, Liam lead you carefully by the small of your back into a soft waltz, the world around you slowly spinning in colours and ribbons of light from the heavens, with him at its heart.

The Irishman shared in your gleeful laughter as you both spun and gradually forgot the rhythm of the dance, all the while clinging to each other's hands.

Your bodies became tangled and giggling messes as you both struggled to hold the other upright in an embrace that finalised your dance with Liam. His head panned to yours resting softly on his shoulder, breathless and grinning ear to ear. Flushed from the cold and looking at him like he'd placed the stars themselves into the heavens.

"I think I've found our tradition for every year", you whispered.

His brows rose playfully, "Have you?".

Craving his warmth, you wasted no more time in hesitation, seizing the blistering heat of his mouth with yours.

Liam eagerly accepted the contact with a pleased hum, smiling through the shared movements of your lips as the years of tension fell away into something far more beautiful.

"I quite like that idea", his quiet laugh fell upon your skin. "We should definitely do the dancing again—".

Slapping his shoulder, you both shared in another kiss before making a move for the quartmaster's cabin, from which you would probably fail to emerge from any time prior to noon on Christmas Day.

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Jacob Frye

Snow cut through the calm yet biting breeze, a chill deep in the foggy streets of London. Your throat burned dry with every inhale, relieved to be out in the open air at last, away from the suffocating heat of the bustling tavern.

What else could you expect from a gathering hosted by London's best bookie?

Robert Topping had thrown together quite the riot for the good peoples of the city, the Rooks taking it upon themselves to make merry with them, ensuring that every man, woman and child that showed up left in good spirits and with plenty of food in their bellies.

Another few people passed you by on their way out from the pub, whispers of 'Merry Christmas' on their lips, reflective of their gratitude towards you and the many others that had contributed to the party and the hard-won peace that now flourished in London.

Since Starrick's defeat mere months ago, the people no longer came to suffer the oppression of the gangs that had once run the streets. All the same, you also found yourself missing the adrenaline of it all. The thrill of freeing the people under the Templars' noses, loosening their iron hold over the citizens— working with Jacob and Evie to undo each scheme that was set against them.

However, there was nothing you missed more than being paired with Jacob on any mission the Frye's needed you for. The younger Frye had a knack for making you laugh, his easygoing nature making him easy to fall into step with.

His witty sarcasm, his playful digs and constant verbal nudges to get on your nerves had all become much-loved aspects of your assignments with him. Now, you knew not what you'd do without them, just as Jacob remained unsure of how often he'd have your company in future.

It frightened him— the thought of hardly seeing you, after you'd achieved so much together.

As such, it was hard for the younger Frye to remain oblivious to your early departure from the festivities, spying your thoughtful expression as you'd moved out into the snow.

"Leaving so soon?", Jacob called unto your back, caught for breath when you turned to face him. Pure exhilaration.

"I am, actually", you spoke with a teasing edge. "What brings you here? Looking for a way out of Bobby Topping's drinking competition? He was keen hoping you'd be his top contender".

"He knows I don't have to compete to be his top contender", the brunette countered quickly. "And I have no plans on earning him a quid more than he already has this evening".

"That's a first". He huffed a laugh at your quip, before his features softened. Recounting the many nights you'd spent patching him up after Fight Club. Blooded and bruised. Kind hands cradling him.

"It's hardly safe at this hour", Jacob began, sparing a glance at his fobwatch. "And as much as I'd love to leave you to the street felons, I think a walk might do us good".

"Am I sensing an offer to walk me home, Mr Frye?", your brow cocked, masking the mixture of horror and excitement that suddenly arose within you.

"It's that or Evie's wrath. As much as I lack fear of the latter, I'm not in the mood to be verbally castrated when I return to the train tonight". The brunette swiveled on his feet, graciously offering you his elbow to hold. "It is Christmas Eve, after all and one must learn to forgive another's snide remarks".

The wink that followed had you giggling, "I accept".

The walk that followed was magical.

Holding to the hard muscle sheathed by his leather jacket, you basked in the warmth that seemed to pour endlessly from Jacob. A beacon of heat in the crisp winter cold as you crossed onto London bridge– now entirely devoid of any life. Naught but the quiet flow of the icy waters and the waft of the breeze could be heard, no voices.

"It's so peaceful", your comment irked a fond smile from the young Frye as his stride seemed to slow.

"Too peaceful, one might say", his contented sigh misted in the breeze, footsteps halting halfway across the brige.

Jacob seemed taken by something, his hues of hazel panning up into the sky— to the lonely lights twinkling above. Their sparkle cascaded down, into the fresh snowflakes that now rained softly from the heavens. Like stars falling to Earth, the frost glittering in the moonlight.

"Snow!", your mouth fell open in awe, squeezing his arm in your shock. "It's so beautiful".

The flakes danced around you both in the wind, clinging to your hair and settling onto your clothes, doing nothing to deter Jacob's playful spirit.

Your racing heart leapt as his larger hand slowly brushed along your forearm, fingers carefully moving to tangle with your own amidst the snowfall.

"Dance with me", he whispered in a tone so gentle, you'd thought him a completely different person for a moment. The mischievous twinkle in the heart of his gaze made you realise that it was quite the contrary.

Seizing the moment with the man you adored, your steps across the bridge turned into the graceful, yet clumsy movements of a ballroom dance. Your shared laughter echoed along the piers below, seeming like starstruck soulmates to any sailors observing from below.

Without missing a beat, Jacob twirled you into his embrace with the gentleness and playfulness of a lover in a private waltz that was completely your own.

The journey across the bridge was over too soon, leaving your cheeks red and sore from smiling so much. All the while, Jacob's hand never retreated from yours.

Sensing a change in the wind, the young Assassin's head snapped towards you with amusement and exhaustion marring his expression. "As much as I'd love to continue our antics with the stunning views atop Big Ben, I think it would be a good idea to get indoors".

Little did you know, he'd never been more right.

Chests heaving and hearts hammering, you embraced the shelter you'd both managed to reach. Your beloved home, safe from the storm that had suddenly swept north.

"That was fun", Jacob's comment irked a shake of your head.

"Funnily enough", you countered, managing a laugh amidst your gasps for air. "Outrunning a blizzard wasn't how I planned to spend my Christmas Eve".

All of the other homes on the street were now near invisible to you both, shaky hands reaching for the front door. "You'd be mad to go back to the train in this weather", you turned to the timid and shaking brunette, quickly beckoning him inside with you. "Stay the night".

"It's a pity that our run didn't keep us warm for long", Jacob huffed once inside your humble abode, relieved to see that you were already starting a fire in the hearth.

"We were lucky to get here when we did, though", you remarked through chattering teeth. "Make yourself at home, Jacob".

Nodding, the young Frye unclasped his hidden blade, shook off his dampening overcoat and removed his top hat out of respect whilst you hurried out of the room.

Hazel flecked hues danced the room, ogling at the cozy Christmas greenery that lined the walls, at the beautifully decorated pine tree that brought him fondly back to the days of his childhood in Crawley. Of standing on an old oak chair in the living room of his grandmother's house, eagerly hanging the baubles whilst the smells of spiced biscuits and fresh tree needles filled the room.

So consumed in the memories that made his eyes glassy, Jacob didn't see your approach, nearly jumping whilst you wrapped a thick blanket around his broad shoulders. There was instant warmth and relief in the way your palms ran along his toned arms, attempting to provide heat through friction.

"Thank you". There it was again, just like before. That softness drifting through his voice, so unlike the boisterous and authoritative tone he usually took with the Rooks and other associates of his.

Offering him a smile that brought a completely different warmth to his form, Jacob allowed himself to be pulled in tow, to be seated with you by the crackling embers of the dim fire.

Given the evening behind you, the younger Frye felt comfortable and confident enough to be seated flush with you on the hard cold of the floorboards, inching one half of the blanket around your shoulders for you to share in his ever present body heat again.

Restraining the shudders that threatened to wash over you, your head panned away from his, not daring another glance at the way the fire illuminated his delicate and sharp features.

"Do you want some tea?". You began to hover your numbing hands above the burning flames, his words of reply being neither desperate or commanding, accompanied with what appeared to be a content curl of his lips, boyish and sweet.

"Don't leave".

Jacob's larger palms reached out, encasing the chill of your fingers within them. Drawing your hands away from the fire, his own gently offered yours a massage, encouraging the blood to race back into them.

Steady fingers worked into your palms and wrists, rubbing together at a soft and tantalising pace, the hazel hues of his gaze darting up to meet yours. You felt pinned in place by them whilst he blew a stream of hot air onto your skin.

Nerves prickled in your flesh, entirely fixated by the proximity of your best friend. Your colleague. So intimately coursing his thumbs over your hands whilst he spoke,

"I know this evening hasn't been what you expected— Or what I expected". His lashes fluttered. "But, there's no one else's Christmas Eve I'd rather be imposing on right now, more than yours".

An amused grin splayed along your features, shyly adding a confession of your own, "I don't think there's anyone else I'd rather have imposing on my Christmas Eve right now. Or from now on".

The new and bewitching colours of Jacob's firelit gaze once again ensnared you, holding your own eyes through the length of his lashes. His mouth feathered a touch over the pads of your fingers, brushing another on your knuckles before he finally settled for closing what space remained between you.

Whatever kind grip that he'd had on your hands disappeared, allowing you the opportunity of sweeping them along the ridge of his cheekbone and into his hair whilst his lips grazed over the seam of yours.

A gasp ghosted over Jacob's sensitive flesh, encouraging him to take your mouth again in a kiss far more eager than the last.

The crease of his brows met firm with yours, claiming any of your coherent thought in the new and fervent dance of his lips. Caught entirely in those movements, you both easily forgot the cold around you, the blanket falling to the floor as you climbed into his lap. Into his arms.

Jacob caressed a finger along your frantic pulse point, continuing to tease the dip of your collarbone whilst he settled his hand above your heart.

"I think—", he murmured, hinting a kiss in his descent against the delicate flesh of your jaw. "We can beat this chill another way".

The vibration of your laugh only did much to tempt him, quickly taking it upon yourself to fuel that cheeky grin of his.

"Whatever you say, Mr Frye".

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Evie Frye

Baubles and greenery. Holly and cinnamon sticks. Pine trees and the smells of roasted chestnuts being carried down the streets. Everybody knew what time of year had come.

A sweet sense of relief had set in with the peoples of London, just in time for the biggest and happiest season. Having only been a shell of it's former self mere months ago, the city was now alive and bustling with trade and well wishes. Content with the knowledge that someone was looking out for them. Offering them a hard-earned peace.

The Rooks, the beloved gang serving the Fryes and protecting the streets— were now making merry with those they serve. Throwing a riot of a party that Evie Frye was certain she was missing.

She paid no mind to the cheering and clapping on the streets this evening, content to let it pass her by, despite Jacob's encouragements. There was far more work to be done, far more to be studied on the Pieces of Eden. Templar schemes didn't disappear at Christmas, and Evie made it her inclination that Assassin plans never halted either. Too much was at stake. Or so she'd earlier insisted to Henry, who also— thought it best to have the night off.

For but a moment, her tired crystal eyes lifted from the piles of parchment on her desk, harping a thought of her very active mind on you.

Of the way you'd busied yourself around the train earlier that morning, piles of decorations fumbling and falling from your arms. The excitement that had flared through the depths of your gaze or the shape of your dimples when you grinned like a giddy schoolchild and the way her heart had soared with your laughter.

A smile ghosted over Evie's lips, unrestrained with the fond reminder of how your carefree soul never failed to lift her spirits.

In previous months, it had done much to loosen her hardened and strict exterior. And earned her a mouthful of teasing from her brother, who had wholeheartedly supported her curiosities of their best friend and colleague. Despite any and all disapproval she'd face from anyone else.

There was a tug of guilt in her chest, drawing her icy hues to the glow of the streets outside. You'd be celebrating, perhaps disheartened that your friend couldn't even make the effort to show. After everything you'd done to prepare. After everything you'd accomplished together this year.

"There you are", Evie suddenly straightened, instantly snapped from her daze by the intrusion of your voice. As if her thoughts alone had summoned you to the train.

"(Y/n)", the brunette turned to you, choked up with the image settled before her.

Despite your hands being clasped behind your back, your posture was that of complete relaxation, donning a dress so wickedly beautiful, it seemed as if the angels above had forged you.

There was an obvious flush to your cheeks from the cold and any alcohol you'd recently consumed with the festivities, but it left any of her previously coherent thoughts scarce.

"Jacob told me I'd find you here", you remarked with a cheeky quirk to your lip.

Of course he did, Evie nearly responded out of natural irritation, marking your approach. Noting the concern etched to your features, the waves of your hair drifting back and carrying the smells of spiced firesmoke.

"Why are you here so late? You're missing all of the festivities".

A long and frustrated sigh drifted through her nostrils. "It's the Templars", she tugged stressfully on a loose strand of her fringe. "They don't rest! They—".

"Enough", one of your palms moved to carefully blanket Evie's, instantly rendering her into a silence. "Forget it. Forget it all tonight. It's Christmas Eve".

The softest swipe of your thumb over her knuckles placated any argument, Evie pinning you with a pensive and tired glare before her shoulders slumped in resignation at your unwavering resolve. You were anything if not more stubborn than her twin.

Without much difficulty, the older Frye allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. Sitting for the many hours passed had done little to aid her posture, leaving her muscles unnaturally exhausted of their energy and bones riddled with stiffness.

"Office work does not become you, Miss Frye", your giggle was soon mirrored by hers.

"I'm glad you think so. My bones seem to agree with you".

"Lucky for you, it's hardly the weather to be chasing down Templars. However,—", her brows rose in intrigue when you trailed off, finally bringing your other hand forth from behind your back. "— you may find the weather more fitting for this".

In one of your hands was a steaming mug of mulled wine that you'd managed to smuggle from the celebration, its fragrant spices drawing the elder Frye back to her childhood days in Crawley. Building snowmen with Jacob and cutting down pine trees in the woods.

In your other palm, there was a small and well-decorated box that you'd pulled from your pocket, patterned simply with a red ribbon binding the label which read clearly,

'To Evie.

With love, from (Y/n)'.

Offering both to her, you had the honour of watching her familiar icy blues change in their observation of you. Twisting with a fondness and mixture of shock that you'd never previously witnessed from her.

"Merry Christmas, Evie".

Moisture prickled in the brunette's eyes, quickly dismissed in the flutter of her lashes. "I can't believe you—".

About to placate her, you hardly expected Evie to cross whatever space there was between you, drawing your frame against hers in a kind embrace that nullified the winter's harsh and lingering chill.

"Evie, your mulled wine—", you tried to object whilst you steadied yourself with her, soon realising that you were perfectly safe and balanced. That her beverage wouldn't spill and burn you both.

The moments drifted in the comfort of her arms, seeming to end too soon when she at last pulled from you with misty hues.

"You didn't honestly think that I would forget you?".

Evie choked a laugh in the dismissal of her tears, "By my not attending the festivities, I thought that I'd given you the uninentional presumption that I'd forgotten you".

"No", your smile remained kind, admired keenly by Evie's sharper gaze. "You gave me the presumption that I'd have to drag you from your papers kicking and screaming. Didn't I succeed?".

"You've gotten further than Jacob ever has", she conceded, feeling the lightness of the gift being tucked beneath her fingers.

"Open it", your encouragement made her blink.

"But, it's Christmas Eve?".

"This one is special". You squeezed her hand in assurance. "Trust me".

It was with a slow apprehension and deep care that Evie untied the ribbon, lifting the shallow lid to the box in her palm. You delighted in the wonder that arose within the crystalline glare of her gaze as her fingers lifted the delicate trinket from the box.

The silver chain caught the light around you, twinkling softly like the stars under her scrutiny. Charms jangled, tied and melded into the precious metal with a precision that left her speechless.

"Did you—".

"I did", you nodded. "I learned from Henry. It's a lucky charm bracelet. I made its design so that it could also adorn your hidden blade, if you wish".

"I do, please!", Evie's insistance was paired with the instant offer of her forearm, on which you then fastened the glittering jewels to her bracer.

"I chose this colour", you murmured, tracing a finger along one of the stones. Pale blue and cut to be shaped like a heart. "Reminded me of your eyes".

Your gaze darted up, instantly catching hers. Like the striking chill of winter, or the bubbling streams anew in spring.

"Why did you shape it that way?", her ask was barely audible, as if speaking any louder would shatter any hope of a genuine answer from you.

"I carved it that way to represent my heart. My goodwill to you, Evie. To give you luck when you need it. Maybe, in the hopes that you might be reminded of me from time to time, if you ever go back to Crawley".

Your stomach twisted with the prospect of a possible rejection whilst the brunette huffed a breathy laugh. "How foolish you are, to believe that I'd ever be capable of forgetting you".

You swallowed nervously, feeling your throat becoming taut with the slow smile that crept onto her freckled cheeks. A realisation passed between you both in that moment. That this wasn't some fiction or delusion, or simple and fleeting curiosity. This was real. Fortified further by the gentle tug of her arm, slowly allowing the hand lingering upon it to fall into hers.

"You are far too entangled in my heart for me to ever let you go", she whispered, fingers weaving to intertwine with yours. "How could I ever leave?".

With the lightest pull from Evie, your feet stumbled forwards on autopilot, chest coming to meet flush with hers.

The cold that encompassed your lips dissipated with the soft breaths that cascaded over them, soon swallowed entirely by warmth as her mouth claimed yours. Gently, ardently, riddled with hesitation.

Your hands reliquished their grip at last on the mug, shattering when it hit the floor nearby, paying no mind to it whilst Evie craned you backwards, leading you to the couch just behind.

Falling upon the plush surface, you understood now why Jacob found it so comfortable. Evie blinked when her lips pulled from yours,

"Hang on, I forgot to get you a present—".

"I don't know", you mused, dancing a finger along the collar of her shirt. "I have a feeling that I'll like unwrapping this one much better".

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Lydia Frye

"Miss Frye".

"Mr Churchill", Lydia acknowledged with a curt nod, fiddling with the bracer of her hidden blade.

"I trust, the mission went well??".

"Exceptionally", she nodded, watching the warmth of relief meeting the Prime Minister's eyes. "The spies at the north gate have been eliminated. Rooks now stand vigil. If we are to endure an attack, we will surely see it coming".

"It seems London is once again indebted to you, Miss Frye", Winston mused. "Is there not anything we can offer you in return?? Consider your previous request in the works. I have my best people ensuring that London will one day bear true equality to the women of our beloved nation".

Lydia was pensive, gnawing the inside of her mouth. Unable to ignore the pressure of the worries eating at her every thought.

Hesitantly, she pulled a letter from her green overcoat, offering it forth to a bewildered Winston Churchill. His steady hands took the parchment, sparing it a look only to whom it was from. "(Y/n) Frye?", his gaze darted up to Lydia's.

"She's an Assassin working to aid the front", the brunette elaborated. "She has written me one letter a week without fail since her deployment. It has been two and a half weeks, and I have no word. Not even from my best men".

"You worry for her wellbeing?", Churchill questioned with a concern similar to Lydia's. "There is a war on. Perhaps, the couriers—".

"I recieve these letters by different means, Mr Churchill. I am scared for her life. No one loves Christmas more than she. And with that on approach— I've heard nothing. Not even a whisper".

"I see", his lips pursed in thought, nodding in his understanding.

"Mr Churchill, if there's one thing I wish, it's for her to be found and brought home safely".

"I will begin an investigation at once", he assured her, smiling at the numbers written under your signature. "Smart girl. She has signed off with her last longitude and latitude coordinates for us, which gives us a good place to start covering ground".

"Thank you, Sir", Lydia released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

"I only ask for patience and understanding at this time, Miss Frye", Churchill offered a compassionate smile. "Be aware that it is hardly unusual for people to go missing in warzones and this investigation may take some time. I will page you with any findings I come across. We will get your sister home, if we can. That is a promise".

"She's not my sister, Mr Churchill", the brunette nodded in her parting, lifting her hands to raise her cowl. Winston only had to dart his keen gaze to one of them, instantly realising the truth upon seeing the silver band sitting on her left ring finger.

You weren't Lydia Frye's sister— you were her wife.

Weeks had passed with no word from yourself or in regards to the investigation. Lydia grew more anxious with each day that silence claimed.

"Wipe that worried off your face, Lydia Frye", she snapped from her daze with her grandfather's voice pulling her to reality. "Your fretting is making me fret".

The brunette giggled at the lighthearted expression on his weathered features, "Apologies, Grandfather. I had no idea such things were contagious".

"I have spent days worrying over others. It does not do well to dwell on these things, Sweetheart. My heart tells me that they'll find (Y/n) and bring her home", Jacob sighed. "Evie and I trained you both. I know your capabilities more than most, as well as hers. (Y/n) is strong and forthright. If I know her as well as I think, she is fighting to get home to you".

"I feel helpless, Grandfather", Lydia's smile saddened. "All I can do is wait and it kills me to not be able to—".

"Walk in there, guns blazing to get her out?", Jacob drawled with his peppered brows raised knowingly. Lydia's mouth parted to speak, opening and closing as if in shock that her grandfather knew her better than she knew herself. "You see?", he laughed. "That's the Frye blood in you. The urge to jump into danger, without thought if it means saving someone else".

"You think that I should resist it?", she cocked a brow expectantly.

"No", Jacob's head shook with that signature Frye grin. "I ask you to use it wisely. Pair it with an unholy amount of patience, if you must. But, if it's one thing I know, it's that you and (Y/n) are blessed to have each other".

Lydia's smile flourished again, if only for one thoughtful moment, "Christmas will not be the same without her".

"I don't doubt that either".

Lydia returned to the big city, to her home in London in time for Christmas Eve after making merry with her grandfather over many days in the countryside. Always, his visits were uplifting, reminding her of her rebellious youth beside you.

Easily, she was able to recall your shared studies together, seated on the grassy plains just outside her grandfather's property. Braiding your hair and weaving friendship bracelets from daisies and forget-me-nots.

Your first kiss in the cool spring breeze, swearing yourself to her side. If Lydia chose the destiny of an Assassin, you decided the same fate for yourself.

You'd spent every Christmas together since you were both five years old. Now, you had quite literally disappeared from the face of the Earth, leaving Lydia beside herself in preparation for a night she'd decided to spend patrolling the streets during whatever festivities that were being held.

Refastening her bracer, the brunette finally relented to the idea of taking this walk in the open air, if only to forget the absence of your warmth in your now cold house.

Opening the front door, Lydia froze, sure that she was hallucinating. There, you stood on the frosty street, hand raised to knock on the door of your own home.

Your hair was messily braided, strands matted together in a mixture of ash, gunpowder and mud. Dark circles sat under your usually bright hues, clothes battered and one arm carefully cradled in a sling.

"(Y/n)?", Lydia blinked, her words no more audible than a breath.

To your sore and heavy eyes, your wife was a gift. Mouth parted, the glittering hazel in her hues growing wide in her shock and porcelain skin marred with the obvious lines of worry that only did more to pronounce her beauty.

Having only emerged recently from the horrors of the warzones, from the violence and unlimited dangers you were forced to face on the daily— including your injuries, you trembled. You could hardly believe you were home, alive, never to go back.

Your chest tightened suddenly, face crumpling with the tears you'd long been holding in since you left for the battlefields. "Lydia", you choked out, stumbling the remaining few steps between you on weak legs.

Her arms engulfed you eagerly within seconds, suffocatingly tight. "You're alive!", you heard the wonder and relief in her sobs as she clung to you. "I've missed you, I— I was so worried that you—".

"I know. I know—", you stammered, gasping for breath through your tears. "We were ambushed by Templars some weeks ago. I couldn't save everyone— I couldn't—".

"Shh, now", Lydia hushed you, pulling back to cradle your face in her palms. So warm and full of life. Just as you'd remembered in your dreams. "What matters is, you're home safe".

Her smile, just as wicked as her grandfather's, ensnared you all over again. You waited no longer, taking her lips in a fervent and long-awaited kiss beneath the dangling mistletoe.

"You must have missed me just as much", Lydia offered a lighthearted joke, gasping through the next contact of your lips.

Your mouth curled against hers, murmuring, "Winston Churchill sends his regards".

"Bless his heart", Lydia sighed, eyes growing misty once more. "He really did it. He got you home on Christmas Eve".

"So did you", you breathed out, watching it crystallise in the breeze around you. "No one would have found me— thought to look for me, if it weren't for you. You never gave up on me, Lydia".

"I never will", her forehead met yours, gaze as adoring as the day you'd stood in your own private altar in the countryside. "Not ever".

Her lips warmed the tip of your nose, irking you to giggle. "Going somewhere this evening?", you bit your own lip to restrain your teasing smile.

"No", Lydia's head shook with her own devious smile. "At home with the wife tonight. We have a lot of catching up to do this Christmas".

The End. . .

__________________________________________

Hello, all!! 🥰

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to every single one of you!! 🎄☃️🎉🥳💖🫂

I hope you've all had the most spectacular holiday season, however you celebrate it! I wish good health and good fortune for your Christmas and the year ahead, but also to thank anyone and everyone who has supported my works this year. I'm grateful to you, including all of the friends I have made in this fandom and beyond! Thank you all!! You're magnificent ❤❤

As always, please tell me how I went with writing these with any feedback you have. I hope you all enjoyed!! If you wish to be a part of my taglists for this fandom or any of the ones I write for - check out my Masterlist and let me know!!

~ Elena ♡

-

TAGLIST; @deadlymistletoe

[lightningboltreader]

Work is Published Wednesday

I wrote a little spooning prompt fill during my chill Christmas afternoon. :) I hope your Wednesday was lovely no matter how the holidays show up in your life. If you're reading this I love youuuu.

The Big Holiday Spoon

They hosted the Catan gang for a white elephant bingo edition of game night last Saturday to celebrate the holidays. Carlos had fun, though he’s not sure what he’ll do with a two-tier makeup briefcase. Nancy was only too delighted to hand off the colorful contraption sent by her grandmother and unfortunately nothing else was appealing enough to trade for. Mateo even ate his gift before anyone could consider a trade there. Afterwards, TK tried to add a guessing game, because he (has the patience of a two-year-old) has trouble living with his wrapped presents from Carlos displayed under the tree since the day it went up. Carlos can’t help that he’s organized! Except Marjan suggested TK exact revenge instead of guessing. At her instruction he’s refused to confirm whether he bought any gifts for Carlos and won’t put a thing under the tree until Christmas, well today.

Read the rest on AO3.

Thanks for the tags @paperstorm, @carlossreaders, @whatsintheboxmh, @ironheartwriter, @everlastingday, @strandnreyes @nisbanisba @lemonlyman-dotcom and the spoon prompter herself, @carlos-in-glasses!

If you're still up and have something to share, bring it on! Tagging a few across the seas: @rmd-writes @welcometololaland @herefortarlos @bonheur-cafe @heartstringsduet @emsprovisions @goodways @orchidscript @reasonandfaithinharmony

[sorinethemastermind]

'Til i forget what i felt in the first place

In which Rayla sings a lullaby, and Soren finds it oddly familiar. Co-written and edited by the supremely talented @honeii-puff! I write the Soren POV chapters, she writes the Corvus POV chapters. Also on Ao3 and it has a playlist!

They didn’t stop until the sun had disappeared from the sky the following day and the moon was rising. Soren was exhausted, carrying a far heavier load than the others what with his bulky armor. He was grateful to sit down and catch his breath when Rayla finally called for them to stop. Even she couldn’t keep going forever.

But it was once they’d stopped that the divide between the two sides of their little makeshift camp began to feel noticeable. Soren had chosen a large tree to lean against, unclipping the sword from his belt and lying it beside him. Runaan had settled against a tree opposite him, a little ways off into the forest. Rayla and Callum were quick to fall into place beside him.

It made sense. Runaan was Rayla’s Dad, of course she wanted to spend some time with him. And it wasn’t like Callum was going to ditch his girlfriend to come and sit with Soren. But still, it hurt. Just a little bit.

Not all of them being over there and him being here, that he didn’t care about. Rayla and Callum could sit where they liked.

It was just that there was nobody to come and sit beside Soren. 

He waited just until his legs had stopped burning before pushing himself to his feet and clipping his sword back to his belt.

“I’m going to go and get us some firewood.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? They might be able to see the smoke.” Rayla interjected.

“It’s going to be cold tonight.” Soren pointed out. “And I don’t know about you, but I didn’t pack a blanket.”

None of them could argue with that, so they let him wander off into the steadily darkening trees. Soren gathered wood until his arms were full and twigs were spilling out with every step. Unable to fit anymore, he found little excuse not to return to camp.

He got back to find them in a similar state as before; all huddled on one side of the small clearing, chattering amongst themselves. Callum said something that made Rayla laugh, and even coaxed a small smile out of Runaan (Soren was beginning to realize that that was as good as you were going to get with him). 

“I got firewood!” he said loudly, dumping it in the middle of the clearing. They all glanced up at him as he began clearing leaves and other debris out of the way.

“Could somebody hand me those stones?” he asked, gesturing to a small pile that had collected between the roots of a nearby tree.

Runaan passed them to him without a word, one by one, and Soren used them to build a ring to contain the fire. Sitting back, he inspected his work and wiped his forehead.

“That should do nicely.”

“It looks really good, Soren.” Rayla said, scooting closer. It was already getting cold. “Now how do we light it?”

“Uhhh.” Soren glanced around the space, thoughtfully chewing his bottom lip. “We’ll just have to use good old fashioned camping know-how.”

“I’ve got it!” Callum said before Soren could begin. He leaned forward, reciting some gobbledygook in whatever-language and tracing a shape in the air. His fingers moved too fast for Soren to make it out, and then they were sparking. He threw the little bolts of lighting into the bundle of dry twigs Soren had gathered and they burst into flame.

“There we go. Fire handled.” Callum puffed out his chest like some sort of strutting bird.

“Is that a new spell?” Rayla asked, turning to him.

“Yep.” Callum said, settling back with his hands folded behind his head. He snapped his fingers, a few stray sparks flying into the air. “Pretty neat, huh?”

“Very.” Rayla said with a playful smile. “There’s no mage quite like you.”

“You could say-” Callum sat up abruptly, throwing her a questioning glance. “Are you making fun of me?”

Rayla rolled her eyes. “Of course not, my most talented mage. I’m being entirely serious.”

“You are teasing me.” Callum chuckled, draping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her in for a quick kiss.

Soren glanced away, feeling a little awkward as the pair of them continued teasing and making eyes at each other. His gaze met Runaan’s as the other elf also looked away, and they shared a sigh. Soren smiled.

The fire burned long into the night, well after Rayla and Callum had - thankfully - reverted to their non-flirtatious selves. They could be so embarrassing, sometimes. Soren was glad he never acted like that.

He poked the fire with a stick. It was getting late, the moon already high above them. They were all on edge, waiting for someone to come barging out of the woods and… Soren didn’t know what. Arrest them? Tell them that King Ezran was disappointed in them? That would probably be worse.

The little creature (rat? monkey? lemur?) on Rayla’s shoulder chirruped, and she lifted it up, cradling it in her arms.

“Shhh, Stella. It’s okay. Go to sleep now.”

She cleared her throat, leaning back against the fall tree beside Callum and humming a soft tune under her breath. After a moment, she began to sing. “Though the sky is dark tonight, I still shine for you, my dear.”

The moon twinkled above them, and Soren settled back against his tree, feeling his own eyes growing heavy. There was something oddly familiar and comforting about the lullaby.

“The moon is more than just her light. I am near, my love is here.” Rayla crooned. 

Soren’s eyes drifted shut. 

Either the room he was in was large, or he was small. Very small. A voice came to him through the foggy echoes of memory, soft and low.

“Though you feel so much alone-” Soren was vaguely aware of a hand gently stroking the hair back from his face. “Oh, my darling, do not fear.”

He tried to place the voice - the touch - to a face. But the more he clung to the dream the more it slipped away.

“Hold to what you’ve always known. I am near, my love is here.”

Soren felt his chest grow tighter, and was suddenly aware of just how little air was in his lungs. The moment began to break apart at the edges, the pieces that remained growing in clarity as he struggled to draw in a breath.

The singer’s voice broke, but she didn’t stop. “Though my face cannot be seen, the answer in your heart is clear.”

Soren drew in a shallow, heaving breath. The hand brushed the damp, sticky strands of his hair back from his forehead.

“I am the moon, the silver queen.”

The face above him swam into focus, soft and kind. Her smile was sad, but warm. The moonlight filtering through the window above Soren’s bed reflected in her eyes, making them shine just like the little silver cuffs on her horns.  “I am near, my love is here.” Lissa told him.

[escapedaudios]

There's a (mostly) dead American Christmas tradition originating from rural southern Germany where a mysterious fur-clad figure known at the Belsnickel (aka Belznickel) visits your house and gives gifts to the virtuous and punishes the devilish with his birchwood whip. He's a much lesser-known folkoric Christmas figure than his German and Austrian cousins Knecht Ruprecht and Krampus, but I have a soft spot for him. He was once very popular in the Eastern United States as far north as Maine and as far south as South Carolina until Santa Claus fully took over around the 1920s. He's special to me, because he's one of the only Christmas figures that doesn't know if you've been naughty or nice, but instead plays games to test your character.

Once a year I dress up and visit a Christmas party, where the guests have to play Belsnickel's ten games. Some of the games are traditional German games, some are traditional German-American games from the 18th century, and some are my original creations. They evolve from year to year, since some games have twists and surprises that would be spoiled if revealed. You can play them too!

These are Belsnickel's Ten Games of Virtue, 2024 edition!

Game 1: Die Versuchung. Belsnickel's game of temptation.

Belsnickel arrives in the house and makes his introduction. As he does, he "accidentally" drops a treat on the floor while greeting the guests. If someone picks up the present and returns it to Belsnickel, they are rewarded by being allowed to keep the gift. If they try to steal the treat for themselves, they are whipped on the wrist and made to return the gift.

Game 2: Der Weisheitswettwerb. Belsnickel's Game of Wisdom.

Participants are invited to recite a wise proverb, quote, aphorism, or verse of religious scripture. Whoever impresses the Belsnickel the most with their wisdom gets an extra good present.

Game Three: Der Aufmerksamkeitstest.

Belsnickel's game of attention and memory. During his introduction, he taught the participants two German words. If they recite them correctly, they get a treat. If they do it incorrectly, they get whipped on the wrist.

Game Four: Die Frage der Tugend. Belsnickel's game of virtue.

Belsnickel invites the participants to tell of a time they showed great virtue since last Christmas. Belsnickel then choses the two best stories, and stops to ponder who should get the prize. If one of the two finalists recommends that their competitor should get the prize, they both get a prize. If they bicker and argue that they are the more vortuous one, they get whipped.

Game Five: Das Anschuldigungspiel. Belsnickel's Accusation Game.

In this game, participants may point out and accuse others of devilish behavior. The accused has sixty seconds to defend themselves. If they defend themselves, the accuser is whipped instead. At the end of the game, anyone who refused to make accusations is rewarded with a little treat.

Game Six: Das Lehrspiel. Teach Der Belsnickel.

Belsnickel wants to learn. He chooses a topic and everyone in the group is invited to share a compelling fact about that topic with him. The fact that fascinates him the most gets a reward!

Game Seven: Freude für das Monster. Cheer up Belsnickel

Belsnickel has some self esteem issues. He's one of the least popular Christmas figures. Cheer him up by telling him he's the best, specifically why he's better than Santa Claus and his rival Krampus. He'll reward whoever cheers him up and boosts his self esteem.

Game Eight: Bestraften oder Bestraft. Punish or Be Punished

In this game you may give up one of your gifts to have another player punished, whether or not they are guilty of anything. This only works a certain number of times though. After a random number of punishments, Belsnickel will punish you instead for targeting another participant.

Game Nine: Das Glückspiel. Belsnickel's Game of Chance.

Two relatively expensive and highly desirable treats are placed in the center of a table, and each participant is invited to wager one of their treats to participate in the game. They each split into groups of heads or tails, until everyone is eliminated expect for one finalist. The winner is offered the two treats, followed by the rest of the pile. Belsnickel then reminds them how great the starting prize was, and tells them he'd be very impressed with their virtue if the winner returned the other player's wagers to everyone else. If they return the wagers, they are praised, if they take them, their winnings come with a slap on the wrist from Belsnickel's birchwood whip.

Game Ten: Ein Samen zum Planten. Belsnckel's Seeds.

My version of Belsnickel loves pumpkins! He gives each participant a handful of pumpkin seeds to plant the following summer, with instructions to bring him a pumpkin next December. You get a great prize if you bring him a pumpkin! But beware, Belsnickel knows what cultivar of pumpkin you're growing with those seeds. If you cheat and bring him a pumpkin you didn't grow yourself, he'll know, and you'll be in big trouble!

Try playing Belsnickel's games! Also, can you guess which games are traditional, and which ones are part of my own personal tradition?

[iamafictionfreak]

Hello, hello!!!

So… it’s been a while. I know I promised/offered/hoped for more of this. And... even though it’s been months, I've finally managed to write the next part.

Not to be deceiving, but part 2 is literally episode 2 only. I'm going the way of Loaded march and posting oneshot's with a rough length of about 20, 000 words? Give or take 5000.

Ever read Footloose’s Loaded March? The Merthur fic to end all Merthur fics?

For those here who aren’t Merthur veterans – we hold weekend group therapy sessions, and depression Thursdays – Loaded March is a series of stories (16 in all) amounting to 1,261,720 words, which is mind boggling to me, and each story is never more than either a oneshot or a handful of chapters until you reach the end.

So, I’m doing that here. Highest form of flattery there is.

So, yep. Part 2 is written and it's around 20000 words - Once it's edited I'll upload, very hopeful for a release by New year. Each episode will be the equivalent of a mini arc but it'll likely be a while before part 3 etc.

As with the above post, I’m aiming, if I actually manage to get there, to cover the rest of season 1 and leave it in a good place. It’s basically a retelling of the show, except with Arthur knowing Merlin’s secret, which changes everything. The juicy part is how this is investigated, developed and how it may or may not alter events as these two idiots progress.

Forewarning: don’t expect a light and fluffy time. Yes, I’m hoping it will be humorous. It’ll likely be dark at times, angsty. Painful. But the light is the key, and the relationship between Arthur and Merlin, the core. It’s, hopefully (pleasepleaseplease) full of adventure and truth and fun!

Unfortunately, Arthur, as you’ve seen, won’t immediately be buddy buddy with the personification of ‘evil’ that his father has raised him to want to destroy. We have a trained killer with a nobility made of steel and a heart as fragile as a bird’s. We have a soft and squishy peasant boy beholding the world's heart of gold, a primal gaze who is an unforeseen powerhouse with unlimited potential to grow into the most formidable man on the planet.

In the show, we see Merlin change over time, moving from servant to devotee of Arthur but kept very much isolated and shadowed. It leads to a very bittersweet end and a deeply fearful Merlin who should never have had to be. With said man knowing the truth, how does that change this growth. I’m not a fan of unearned progression so please don’t expect these two to become the best of friends in the space of 2 chapters.

In the show they fit all the definitions yet fit exactly none of them. They’re friends, except they’re not because their social status gets in the way. They’re devoted comrades, except they’re not because how can they be when such huge secrets stand between them. They’re each other’s protector, except neither really knew it nor understood what it meant. Arthur became Merlin’s purpose, and no one ever knew that heartbreakingly beautiful truth, so he couldn’t serve said purpose to his fullest potential. Arthur was never able to know what it was like to have someone like that by his side because even when he married Gwen, there was a piece if himself that he kept concealed. Watch season 5 and you’ll see what I mean and it’s because of that, that Gwen feels so alone at times.

The show held such potential. And luckily fan works aren’t limited by money or stereotypes or backwards thinking or, oddly enough, a yearning to thrown in a boatload of realism in the last half hour of a supremely unrealistic show.

This fic will not be halted or forced or rushed into romance of any kind. I have an issue with unearned progression. Natural chemistry leads to places yes, but people don't usually just fall in love and go with the flow.

The possibilities are delicious, won’t lie. If Arthur and Merlin had been allowed to ‘touch that’ in the show, the depth of it - the many layers it would have added - would have taken it in a very different direction, one that didn’t fit BBC goals at the time. Imagine all the S1/2 episodes with a bi Arthur. How that alone changes everything about it. Likewise, rewatch the episodes and imagine that it circles certain forbidden feelings and suddenly it’s so much more. I also won’t destroy existing love angles for the sake of something that I want more. No, it needs to feel natural. We’ll see what happens.

If you have questions, throw them at me, whether I answer them is another thing entirely.

I hope you’re all okay at the very least. It’s been a tough few years.

P.S I was going to wait until the third part was written as well, but the year has been hard; I've been sick, I've gotten a new far more stressful job and I've begun it question whether we really do exist within a 'matrix', so it feels right to post a sequel at christmas when merlin did everything to kill us once upon a time.

*not my gif*

In a Land of Christmas, and a Time of Fanfiction, There was an Irritated Woman in Dire Need of a Re-Write:

(gifs not mine - they're from @genyakosstyk)

So… I did it! I did exactly what I said I’d do here. I wrote the start of what could become a long-winded piece of diatribe focusing on how much Merlin the tv series could have healed us instead of hurt us.

I can’t tell if I’m overly ambitious, a little desperate (about anything and everything honestly) or just so done with 2023 and the crap-tastic news it generates. That and, I have this on repeat in my mental-space, which is more of a shed than a palace:

(gif from @punqueen13 )

So that's fun.

It’s forgivable to escape horror or fear or fatigue or guilt and grief by diving into fantasy. And is there anything more fantastical than merlin? Merlin and all the promise it brings. Is there any wonder why fics are still being churned out for a series that ended 11 years ago?

So here it is.

Part 1 of one. I’ve written a short, five chapter thing. It isn’t a prologue, it’s an intermission between episode 1 and 2 of season 1. The chapters are short for a reason, but I wanted to give a mix of both Arthur and Merlin povs so do let me know if they’re extremely out of character – I can handle a little ooc, especially given the nature of fanfic but if I can’t hear their voices in my head or see them as I read, I feel like I’ve failed.

I think I did ok?

The premise is simple:

Arthur sees Merlin, a peasant he had a brief altercation with, use magic to save his life. He should tell his father about. He should arrest Merlin.

He doesn’t. His honour being at risk, he allows Merlin to work for him on the proviso that he doesn’t use magic. Ever.

Except Arthur has questions he’s never been given the answers to. And Merlin is – odd. He’s nothing like what Arthur’s been told a sorcerer is and he makes it all too easy for Arthur to drop his guard around him.

Which- well, it must be magic, right?

His father, his attendants and tutors, have taught him about the manipulations of witchcraft and sorcery and how they can twist a man into feeling empathy for the wicked.

The problem is that Merlin isn’t exactly what he’d call wicked. Arthur trusts his own instincts and they’re telling him very different things to what the king decreed. He vows to watch over his new manservant. The moment he commits treason, he’ll run a sword through him.

And in the meantime, maybe – just maybe – he’ll find out for himself if a man who turns to evil, can’t turn back.

I’LL POST EACH CHAPTER WITHIN THE NEXT TWO WEEK SEASONAL PERIOD.

But.

There will then be a wait for part 2 – if anyone truly wants it, that is. And if not, hey. I had fun writing this.

Other bits and bobs and odds and sods:

Will there be romance?

Eventually! But I do wonder with who you mean? And this is first and foremost an experiment about how Merlin and Arthur could have been if what when how and why. If Arthur had Merlin's full trust and if Merlin was allowed past the walls Arthur had erected to keep even Gwen out, what could they have become?

Is it funny?

I HAVE NO IDEA. I truly hope so though, at east a little. There's some seriousness ahead to get through first though, Arthur isn't just going to jump into trust.

Will there be a lot of differences from season 1?

I aiming for exactly that.

How much trouble is Merlin in? More than season 1?

Ahem, have you seen the below man?

Merlin's in ALL the trouble. He just doesn't know yet that trouble is his home-spice.

[intramoon]

𝒲+𝒜 (circa 2017)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Yue Qingyuan and Tianlang Jun having tea together ☕

[Commission for @absolmon!]

[teganorsara]

Ali Ahn as Eidra Park and Ato Essandoh as Stuart Heyford in

THE DIPLOMAT 1.06