#this was rushed so its not my best but merry Christmas A

[pointlessjey]

Merry Christmas!

[writing-wh0re]

AAAAH, I just saw you posting your prompts and your requests are open. I don’t know if you write them together or individually, but if you can (or if you can’t but you can write for one of them), could you do Fred and George with a Smutty prompt #3?

All writing will be #writing-wh0re-requests.

George Weasley x Reader x Fred Weasley

Word Count: 6,167 - I had so much fun writing this

Warnings: Smut18+, Unprotected Vaginal Intercourse, Female Performing Oral, Daddy Kink, Slight Choking Kink, Slight Slapping Kink (if you squint), Praise Kink, Slight Degration, Slight Breeding Kink, Spanking Kink. Slight cum kink. Use of pet names.

Basically its a very kinky smut and there's actually plot - look at me go.

A/n: Sorry I have been inactive, life am I right? But I'm getting a desk setup completed so I will be more fequent! I hope. I apologise for this being long, but I truly had so much fun writing this request. My love for the twins is reigniting. I will be fixing up my taglist as well / making a library blog for posts. I have written this smut differently to how I have in the past, let me know if you'd like a part 2!

Merry Christmas x

| | | |

Hogwarts was quiet the closer it got to Christmas, snow was gently falling and the gusts of wind were freezing. Most students went home for Christmas but this year was different for you. Your parents had decided to take a trip to get away from the wizarding world for a few months with no real timeline of coming back, it was something that shocked you but also didn’t surprise you. 

Fred and George had decided to not rush home right away, debating on whether or not to ask you to join them at the Weasley house for Christmas, not really sure of what your relationship was, if it was anything other than lust and desire. 

“You can’t sit alone in the common room for weeks, it’s Christmas.” George grumbled slouching down on the couch beside you.

“I’ll be fine, honestly, I have so many books I can read.” You gestured to the pile of books on the table that you had acquired from the library. “You two should head home, I’m almost certain your mum has made your favourite foods.” 

Fred smiles at the mention of his mum and her tradition of making something for everyone to enjoy. 

“You can come with us, we have a spare room and I’m sure mum would be overjoyed to finally meet our best friend.” 

Best friend

Although not untrue the word still seemed to pang your heart with disappointment. An on and off hook up to them doesn’t mean the same thing it does to you and that was something you were coming to terms with. 

Fred and George sensed the hesitation on you after Fred had dropped the best friend title, it was something they were yet to discuss with you, were you just best friends who fooled around? Or were you also wanting something more that you could all figure out together over time. 

“I don’t want to impose, you’ll have such a full house, isn’t Bill in the guest room this year?” 

George smirks, you do listen to every word they say. 

“What Freddie is saying is there will be a spare bed somewhere, we have two in our room and the couch downstairs, I’m sure something can be sorted.” 

“Mum already thinks you’re coming so hurry up and pack your things.” 

Your mouth falls open at Fred’s revelation, your eyes flick to George who smirks. 

“Go on, we leave in fifteen minutes.”

“I feel like there wasn’t much of a choice in this matter.” 

The twins chuckle as you pack your things up and run up to your dorm, searching your room for a bag to pack things into you. 

You quickly rush out of your dorm, running into the twins as you look up at them. Their eyes wander your face, a blush creeping up your neck. 

You look down at the floor, before George places his hand under your chin.

“Everything okay baby?”

Baby. 

You weren't quite sure how a simple nickname could make your stomach flip and your body tingle, but it did, especially coming for George and Fred. 

“Uh, um.” Your mind is foggy, unsure what you were originally rushing for. The twins smirk, sharing a quick look before your face lights up, having remembered what you wanted to ask. 

“How long are we gone for?”

“We will be coming back the week before term starts.”

“But we can come back earlier if you’d like.” 

“So three weeks?”

The twins nod as you spin and walk back into your dorm, them following behind you. You walk back and forth from your closet to your bed, where the twins have decided to lounge while you pack. Finding outfits is easy, finding lingerie works out to be a little harder under the gaze of the men on your bed. 

You quickly open your dresser draw, looking over the various colours of lace and matching sets. Quickly you grab a hand full and shove it into your bag, closing your dresser and zipping the bag closed. 

“Darling, you dropped something.” George whispers, moving past you and bending down to pick up your dark red G-string, blush creeps up your face, your stomach filling with butterflies as George passes the material to Fred who simply places it in your bag and rezips it. 

Your mind continues to rush, a million thoughts racing through your brain as the twins share a smirk before grabbing your bag from the bed. 

“C’mon love.” Fred holds your bag as he walks out of your dorm, George follows closely behind his eyes looking you up and down, sending a swift wink your way before holding his hand out, an invitation to take his. Which you do, almost embarrassingly fast. 

George squeezes your hand and pulls you along with him to follow Fred. 

| | | | 

After a few days at the Weasley home, you started to feel settled and a part of the family. Harry had joined the household on the same day as you, making you feel not so alone in the imposing feeling. No one was surprised to see you, they were excited to have another friend along for the celebration. Molly had made you feel so at home, hugging you when you first arrived, a feeling of warmth and comfort washing over you within her embrace. 

Over the past few days, Molly had shown you how to bake a few of her signature recipes, she had even gone as far as asking what your favourite food was, setting herself a goal of creating it for you come Christmas Eve. 

Being one day out from Christmas, Molly didn’t want to be disturbed in the kitchen, she needed her space and stated that everyone should go outside to play a friendly game of Quidditch, she emphasised the word ‘friendly’ mainly at the twins. 

So you sat on your broom beside Harry, waiting for everyone who was playing to fly into the air. 

“Have you played before?” Harry asks curiously, not knowing much about you, himself being two years younger. 

“Yeah, but I'm definitely not a pro.” You laugh as Harry smiles, looking out at the Weasley family. 

“I think they’re going to kick our ass.” 

“Oh without a doubt.” 

You and Harry share a smile, your eyes wandering to the golden ball, clearly not the shiny golden snitch but definitely close. The quaffle and bludgers fly through the air with a woosh sound, everyone going into game mode. You and Harry nod at each other, both taking the role of seekers before rushing into the air in search of the ‘snitch’. 

Within a matter of seconds the twins are behind you, chasing after you. You fly past the duo, diving down behind Harry who seems to have his eye on the golden ball. You quickly look over your shoulder, the twins hot on your ass. You notice the golden ball dancing between the twins. A smirk dances across your lips as you fly up higher just outside of the quidditch pitch, pulling up on your broom as the twins fly past you. They stop and look back at you as you flash them your bare tits. Both of them go wide eyed as you hold the golden ball between your hands, pulling your sweater back down. 

“Later losers” 

You turn your broom around, wiggling your ass as you dive down to the grass. 

“We won!” You scream, Ginny, Bill and Ron rush down to you, pulling you into a hug and cheering for your team as the rest of the players come to the ground. 

You make brief eye contact with the twins, a darkness in their eyes but clapping for your victory nonetheless. 

“Lunch is ready! C’mon darlings before the storm comes.” Molly gestures for everyone to come inside as you opt to help clean the game up, the twins staying behind with you. 

You bend down to pick up the spare brooms, your ass brushing against George’s crotch, your eyes locking onto Fred and sending him a wink. 

Fred stands in front of you, shielding you from the view of the house, George holding your hips, pulling you against his chest. Fred caresses your cheek, his head shaking. 

“Do that one more time and we’ll fuck you right here in front of everyone.” 

Your breathing hitches, your eyes never leaving Fred as he hooks one finger into the collar of your sweater, looking down at your bare tits. George slips one hand up into your sweater, groping your boob as you whimper, a shiver runs over your body at his cold finger tips. The fear of getting caught creeps up, a slight wetness running to your core. Fred tilts your head to look up at him, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip, your lips parting slightly. 

The twins smirk pulling away from you like nothing happened and begin grabbing the game equipment. 

They walk towards the home, not once turning back to look at you. Thunder rumbles through the sky as you quickly rush inside, not wanting to be left out in the oncoming storm. 

“There you are sweet girl, would you prefer peach or lemon tea?” Molly asks sweetly, smiling at you before worry washes over her. Molly places her hands on your cheeks and a slight frown on her face. 

“Y/n, honey you look flushed, are you okay?”

You heart hammers in your chest, those fucking twins. 

“I’m okay Molly, the wind just gets to me sometimes.” You smile, reassuring her as she pulls you into a warm embrace. You make eye contact with the twins, smug smirks on their face. 

“You tell me if you need anything, now, lemon or peach?” 

You nod at Molly, deciding on lemon tea before squeezing in between Fred and George at the table, conveniently the only spot left. You spin the pasta around the fork, thankful for a warm meal. Your body tenses slightly, feeling both Fred and George place a hand on your thighs. Both of them grab and squeeze the flesh, involuntarily rocking your hips at their touch. You quickly catch yourself, continuing to eat while the twins trace shapes and grip your skin. 

| | | | 

Not much continued to happen yesterday and today had mainly been taken up by Ginny and Molly asking for help with wrapping gifts, a cheeky idea coming into your mind as you pocketed a bit of red ribbon. 

Tonight was the big Christmas Eve feast, Mr Weasley had finished work early and everyone was told, multiple times, that dinner would be served at 7pm, not a minute over. Molly hadn’t made lunch today, wanting everyone to wait with anticipation for her multitude of amazing dishes, a favourite created for everyone in the home, including yourself and Harry. You had simply asked for baked honey carrots, which judging by the smell of honey filling the home, Molly had delivered. 

“Thank you girls, go get comfy while I finish up dinner.” Molly smiled, kissing Ginny’s head before ushering us away from the table so she could set it accordingly. 

“I’m going for a quick shower.” Ginny states rushing up the stairs in front of you. You duck into the twins room, looking over George’s messy bed and Fred’s mattress on the floor, thankful that you could share a room with them but lucky enough to score Fred’s bed. 

“Mum loves you.” I jump slightly at George's words not noticing him behind me. I smile, falling backwards on Fred’s bed. 

“I love her, she feels like home when she hugs you.” I whisper as George hums in agreement. 

Fred walks into the room, his hair dripping and a towel around his waist. I sit up slightly, resting on my elbows, my eyes shamelessly dragging over his toned body. 

“My eyes are here baby.” 

That fucking nickname.

“Oh I’m well aware.” I whisper, looking over at George quickly. “Remind me, do you look like that?” 

George smirks, pulling his shirt over his head, his body just as toned as Fred’s. 

I bite my lip, looking between the two shirtless twins. 

“Noted.” 

Fred locks the door behind him, resting against it. George stands from his bed, nodding at his brother before pulling me closer to the edge by my ankles.

“We’re sick of this game love.” 

“We know you want us.”

“Fuck, we want you.”

“That shit you pulled during the game.”

“Dangerous.”

“Slutty.”

“Showing off what’s ours to the whole family.” 

My breath hitches at their words, looking up at both of them towering over me on the bed. 

“I’m yours?”

The twins smirk, George leans down, his thumb brushing against my lip. 

“Should we remind you?”

“It’s been a long time, baby.”

“We forget what you feel like.”

“Sound like.” 

They emphasise their words by groping at your body. Your body tingles, wetness pooling between your thighs. 

Fred feels your pocket, pulling out the red ribbon with a smile. George smirks, tilting his head at me. 

“Are you our Christmas gift?” 

You open and close your mouth, simply nodding as they chuckle. 

“Don’t be shy, baby.”

“Yes.” You whisper, watching their every move. 

George smiles, leaning down and pulling you up from the bed, your chest against his, your back against Fred’s. 

“How lucky are we Freddie.” 

“Extremely.” Fred whispers, his hands gripping your ass. 

George leans down to your lips, his lips hovering over mine, your breath mixing as my eyes flick from his to his lips. 

“Please.” You whimper. 

George closes the distance between you, your lips moulding against each other. Fred kisses along your neck and shoulder, sucking on your weak spot as you moan into George’s mouth, allowing for his tongue to twirl with yours. 

“Be quiet baby.” George whispers as Fred captures your lips, his kiss just as soft as George, savouring every swipe of your tongue against each other. George’s hands slip under your sweater, a groan falling from his lips at your lack of bra, twisting your nipples. 

“Fuck daddy.” You whisper, both of the twins stopping briefly, as George grabs your hair pulling your face to him. 

“Say that again.”

“Daddy.” You whimper, your lips pouting, Fred moans, his hands spanking your ass.

“We’re going to ruin you.” 

Before anything more can happen you hear Molly shout up the stairs, letting you know dinner is served. 

“Fuck.” The three of you say in unison, the boys pull away from your body. Fred rushes around the room for clothing as George puts his sweater back on. 

George smirks at you, tapping your ass and nodding towards your hair. 

“Might want to fix that baby.”

“Don’t want everyone to know you’re our little slut.” Fred winks, both of them slipping out of the room, their footsteps bouncing down the stairs. 

Your fingers brush against your lips, a slight tingle against the flesh from their kisses. A smirk forming on your face, thankful for the last few minutes, a step in the direction you crave. 

After you fix your hair,you quickly bounce down the stairs, thankful you're not the last one as Harry and Ron rush in behind you.  

“Sit, sit dear.” Molly gestures to the space across from the twins, next to Ginny and Harry. You quickly sit as Molly places the last dish on the table. The house smells amazing, a mix of spices and hints of firewood from the stove. 

“Merry Christmas, I love all of you.” Molly smiles, kissing Arthur. “Including you two.” Molly gestures to Harry and yourself as you knock his shoulder, smiling at him. “Please, eat.” 

No one waits for Molly to say it twice, everyone serving themselves. George serves you a pile of honey carrots and Fred places a few roasted potatoes on your plate before continuing to serve themselves. A soft smile falls on your lips, the simple domestic gesture filling your heart, maybe this could work. 

Everyone is quiet while enjoying Molly’s food, the sound of knives and forks clicking together. You catch Molly’s eye as she enjoys watching her family sharing dinner together, only having this occur a few times within the year. Molly catches your eye and winks at you, scrunching her nose and smiling at you before taking a sip out of her wine glass. You smile back at Molly, a warmth washing over you at the small interaction. Your eyes flick to the twins in front of you, both of them almost finished with their meal. A cheeky thought pops into your mind as you shuffle on your seat slightly, dragging your foot up George’s leg. His eyes lock onto yours, he nudges Fred inconspicuously to get his attention before sitting back in his chair, his legs spreading wider as his older brother looks down at the chair quickly. You press your foot into George’s crotch softly noticing his body tense as Fred shakes his head, grabbing his cup and tipping the liquid into his mouth. You drop your foot from George and move it to Fred, not wanting him to feel left out. Fred grabs his napkin, wiping his mouth as he looks over at George and nods. A wordless conversation shared between the two as George smirks. 

“So Y/n and Harry, what subjects are you looking forward to most next year?” Molly asks, butterflies flip in your stomach, feeling like Molly caught you. You quickly drop your foot from Fred causing him to chuckle slightly, George takes a sip from his glass hiding his smirk at your reaction. 

“Defence against the dark arts, I’m sure I don’t have to explain why.” Harry states, causing a small chuckle to fill the air. 

“And Y/n?” Molly smiles. 

“Potions, I’m excited to create a few remedies for different conditions but also to help these two-” You quickly gesture to Fred and George who go wide eyed, you know Molly and Arthur don’t know about their ‘jokes’ yet but why not keep them on their toes. “With passing the subject. You know they don’t stir their cauldrons, they just expect it to work when you throw things into it.” 

Molly and Arthur chuckle, a smug smirk on your face at the panic you just gave the twins. 

“Oh that explains why their grades for positions are so high, we have you to thank.” Arthur chuckles as you nod, smiling at him. Little does he know, you have them to thank for your grades. 

You pick up your glass, taking a sip of the cinnamon eggnog, freshly made as Molly questions her kids about what they’re most looking forward to. You only half listen, your mind occupied by the pair of redheads in front of you, your mind filled with ideas on what you want to do to them and them to you. Thankfully for such a great break. 

| | | | 

The night flew by, Molly handed out one gift to her kids, including yourself and Harry. Molly stated it was something to wear for Christmas day breakfast and to not fuss over opening one present early. She asked everyone to open them at the sametime, to which you did and found yourself with a handmade sweater with your first initial on the front, everyone had one. You held the fabric close to yourself, knowing you would hold onto this for the rest of your life. 

Fred and George hadn’t spoken to you since dinner, opting to hangout with their brothers and Harry while you and Ginny gossiped on the couch. Ginny was confiding in you about her crush on Harry and how Dean had been sending her letters since he left for break. You hadn’t noticed when the room dwindled down to just yourself, Ginny and Harry. Upon noticing and remembering what Ginny had said, you excused yourself, leaving the two of them alone which caused Ginny’s cheeks to heat with a rosy blush. 

You quickly went up the staircase, noticing how much quieter the house was the further you climbed. You slip into the twins room, hearing soft snores, noticing Fred’s asleep on the spare mattress on the floor. You look to George’s bed and see it's empty. You can hear the faint running of water, a small idea popping into your head. You walk over to the bathroom, your hand resting on the handle, hoping to god it’s George. You contemplate this gamble for a few seconds, bouncing on your heels slightly before the devil on your shoulder simply says ‘fuck it’ and you turn the handle to the bathroom. 

“Hey, knock-” George pulls the shower curtain across, cutting himself off when he sees you leaning against the now closed bathroom door. A smirk forms on his face as pulls the shower curtain open a little for you, simply waiting. The steam flows outside of the curtain, the mirror foggy and walls wet. You quickly slip out of your clothes, untying your hair and letting it fall. A shiver runs over your body in the damp air and you hurry into the shower, wanting the warm water to cascade over your body. 

George has his head tipped under the shower, leaving his body open to your eyes. You drink in his figure, his toned chest and arms, his semi hard cock and strong legs. The water streams down his skin, small sprinkles covering your body. Wetness slips past your folds, your heart beat picking up, this almost feels wrong without his counterpart. But you know they will talk and you know Fred will be jealous. 

George faces you, dragging his hand down his face to wipe away the water, his eyes linger on your body, his tongue dragging along his bottom lip. 

“What’s Freddie going to say?” 

The mention of his name has butterflies erupting in your stomach. 

“Why don’t you tell him and find out.” 

George smirks at your response, stepping closer to you and pushing you against the side shower wall, the cold tiles resting against your skin as a hiss leaves your lips.

“You’re a cock hungry whore, aren’t you baby?”

Your lips part at his words, simply nodding and leaning up to capture his lips. George pulls away from you tutting as he holds your chin between his fingers. 

“You answer daddy when he asks a question.” 

“Only for you daddy.” 

George chuckles, tilting your face up to his. Small droplets of water fall from his hair and onto your skin. 

“Liar.” He whispers, licking along your bottom lip and taking it between his teeth and pulling the flesh. “You’re a slut for Freddie, and fuck it makes me hard, but tonight you’re mine.” 

You nod your head, a whispered ‘Yes Daddy’ slipping from your lips, your eyes staring into his. His lips lock with yours, his wet hand moving from your chin and tangling in your hair, pulling on the strands. A moan falls into your kiss, your tongues swirling against each other, his free hand holding your hip, pulling your dry body against his. 

“You’ve gotta be quiet baby.” George whispers, his lips kissing down your neck, tongue tracing a line to your boobs. You softly whimper as he takes your nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing against the hardened bud. He pulls from your breast with a pop, alternating to the other side, your fingers tracing through his hair, pulling when he bites your nipple. The warm shower water sprinkling your body, the steam filling your lungs as your gasp.

“You’re so beautiful and these tits.” George whispers, grabbing your boobs in his large hands and jiggling the flesh. He sucks on the skin of your cleavage, leaving a red and purple hickey on each one, definitely something to rile up Fred. 

George presses against you, your boobs slip against his wet chest. His lips brush against your ear as you feel his hard cock against you skin. 

“This is all for you.” 

Your moan in response, causing George to place a hand over your mouth. Tutting at you as he shakes his head. He drags his fingertips up and down your thighs, softly tapping against your folds before slipping one finger past. He sucks in a breath at your wetness, pressing his fingers against your clit and looking into your eyes. 

“You’re so good for me, so wet and warm.” 

You nod against his hand that’s still pressed against your lips. His finger starts to swirl around your clit in small circles. Your eyes roll back, a moan vibrating against his hand. 

“I’ve missed this pussy baby.” 

He picks up the pace of his finger on your clit, your legs tense at the feeling of pleasure flowing through you at his actions. George pulls his finger from your clit, placing the digit against his tongue and rubbing it side to side, before his lips encase it. 

“So sweet.” 

If he wasn’t covering your mouth, it would be open in shock. 

“Please.” You beg, whispering against his hand, it is barely audible, he wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t feel your lips move against his skin. 

“Are you begging for me to fuck you against the wall baby?”

His words cause more wetness to flow between your legs. He moves his hand from your lips allowing for you to answer. 

“Please daddy, I’ve missed your cock.” 

George smirks, placing his hand under your right knee and lifting your leg up, his other hand resting under your left arm. 

“I bet you’d say the same fucking thing to Freddie.” 

It’s your time to smirk at his words, nodding softly before you reach down and wrap your hand around his hard cock, tip red and beading with precum. 

“I would, because I’m a whore for you and a slut for him.” You whisper, slowly pumping your hand up and down his dick. George bites his lip, looking down at your hand. You place his cock against your folds, the tip brushes your wet clit causing him to hiss at the contact. You guide him lower to your entrance, angling your hips to allow for him to slide into your velvet walls. 

Both of you sigh in unison at the contact. George keeps his hips still, his lips capturing yours, savouring in the feeling of your walls around his cock. You rock your hips up slightly, a silent beg for movement as he smiles against your lips, pulling his cock from your pussy before plunging deep inside of you. Your nails dig into his shoulder as he finds his rhythm, his cock slips in and out of you, your wetness growing the deeper he thrusts inside of you. His lips are resting against your ear, his low whispered moans and groans echoing in your head. 

“So tight and wet for me.”

“Such a good girl for daddy.” 

Hearing him refer to himself as Daddy has your pussy tightening around him, his praise sending tingles through your body. 

The water of the shower continues to run, it ever so slightly sprinkling you both with droplets. The steam continues to fill the room, the water pressure dropping from being on for so long. 

“Touch your clit for me baby, I’m close and want you to cum first.” 

You slip your hand between your bodies, a moan falling from your lips as you circle your clit, the wetness causing it to slip against your finger. You add another, two now circling your clit and fast to help you reach your high. 

“Look at you, such a whore.” 

You whimper at his words, your pussy tightening causing George to hiss, tilting his head back, his wet hair sticking to his skin as he continues to rock in and out of you. 

“D-don’t stop.” 

Your legs tense, your fingers rubbing your clit faster and George’s lips fall to your neck, kissing the skin and whispering for you to cum. 

“Cover my cock baby.”

Your heart beat picks up, your breath hitching and your eyes squeezing shut as you cum. Your legs tingle and untense; George’s cock continues to slide in and out of you, his pace picking up as he moans in your ear. His mouth falls to your shoulder and bits skin to muffle his moan as his cum spurts, warmth pooling inside of you. 

George pulls away from you, watching his cock pull in and out, covered in a mix of cum. He gently places your leg down, slipping out of your pussy with a hiss. 

“C’mere.” George whispers, pulling you to his chest and kissing your hair. He spins you around, softly placing the warm running water against your cold back, his fingers tracing in your hair. He places a kiss on your forehead, his hands now holding your hips. 

“Let’s get you ready for bed.” 

| | | | 

You wake up in the morning, a dull ache in your legs from last night. The memory of last night floods your mind, you lift your shirt looking at your boobs beautifully covered in hickeys. 

“I hear you had fun last night.” 

You look over at Fred leaning against the doorway. Your face fills with blush, your eyes quickly flicking to George’s bed as you hear Fred chuckle. 

“George is out with everyone else, mum insisted they hand deliver Christmas cards to the neighbours.” Fred states, closing the door and moving closer to the bed. “And I insisted on letting you rest because you were up late last night and had to make sure you didn’t wake up alone.” 

“Freddie.”

“Nuh-uh, what’s my name baby girl.” 

Your stomach fills with butterflies, watching the eldest twin sit on the bed beside you, his fingers caressing your face. 

“Daddy.”

Fred nods, his hand tilting your chin up, before settling around your throat. Bending down to your lips and whispering against them. 

“That’s better, I bet you called George daddy and I bet you fucking loved it.” 

“I did.” 

You want Fred to be rough, you want him to compete against his brother, you want to be filled with his cum. 

“I hear you’re a slut for me, is that correct?” 

His hand tightens around your throat before releasing softly, dragging his hand down your body and resting it on your boob. 

“Yes daddy, whatever you want me to be.” 

Fred smirks, chuckling at your response. 

“So submissive for me, you wanted to make me jealous didn't you baby?”

He grips your breast, pinching your nipple and dragging his hand down your body, cupping your pussy through your thin pyjama pants.

“You want me to fuck you better than George.”

“Please.” You whimper, your hips rocking up against his hand. 

Fred slaps your pussy through your pants as your hips stop. 

“He was right, you’re a slut for me.” 

You simply nod in response. Fred leans down, his lips ghosting yours. 

“Get on your knees and show me what you want.” 

Within a second he’s pulled away for you, leaning back on the bed and resting against his elbows. You scramble off the bed, falling to your knees in front of him, the wooden floor hard and cold. 

You loop your fingers into Fred’s pants, tugging them down his body along with his underwear. His cock springs free, hitting against his lower stomach. Your mind floods with comparison to George, the thickness and length comparable, a vein running from the base to the tip. You run your tongue along the vein, flattening your tongue against the head of his cock before slipping it past your lips. 

“Fuck.” Fred moans, falling back on the bed, his hands dragging down his face. 

You wrap your hand around the base of his dick, meeting your lips half way, your tongue flicking side to side around his cock. Fred’s fingers lace in your hair, assisting you with bobbing your head up and down, his hips thrusting into your throat. Your eyes water, a few gags filling the air and drool leaking from your mouth. 

“Such a messy baby.” 

Your eyes roll back, moaning around his cock. 

“You didn’t- fuck- suck George’s dick, did you baby.” You shake your head, popping his cock from your lips. 

“Just for you daddy.”

“Mm, just what I wanted to hear.” Fred grabs your face between his hands, kissing your lips sloppily, his tongue rubbing against yours. Your lips are puffy and glistening with spit, his teeth pull at your bottom lip pulling away from you. 

“On the bed baby, ass up for daddy.”

Within an instant you’re standing in front of him, stripping your clothes. Fred stops you before you can lay across the bed, noticing the hickies covering your boobs. 

“Cocky fucker.” Fred groans, spanking your ass in encouragement to get on the bed. 

You lay with your ass in the air, feeling Fred kiss down your back. He reaches your ass, spanking the plump skin, soothing it with a soft kiss to your cheek. His teeth graze the skin, biting and sucking, leaving his mark on your ass. You squeak as he spanks you, his cock dragging up and down your slit, bumping against your clit, your moans filling the air. 

“No one’s home baby, be loud for me.” 

Fred slides deep inside of you, the angle allows for him to brush against your g-spot a moan pulling from your throat. 

“Fuck, I should just stay inside of you, that would drive you crazy, wouldn’t it baby?” 

“Yes daddy, please fuck me.” 

“Mm, what would George say?”

“Fuck, please, fuck me.” 

You push your hips back against his cock, a low groan falling from his lips. 

“Fuck yourself on my cock baby.” Fred encourages, your hips rock back and forth on his cock, wiggling them against him. You pull forward just far enough to leave the tip inside of you before pushing back allowing for him to slip deep inside of you. This causes Fred to grip your hips, starting his own rhythm and thrusting in and out of you. 

“This is exactly what you wanted, isn't it baby?”

You nod against the comforter, your hands gripping the material. 

Fred spanks your ass, his fingers looping your hair around his palm and pulling you up. 

“Answer me.”

“Yes daddy, wanted you to fuck me.” 

“Wanted me to fuck you better than George.” 

You moan at his words, his pace picking up. Both of your moans and heavy breathing fill the air, his grip still tight on your hair. Fred uses his grip to pull you up against his chest, his arm wrapping across your boobs as he bounces you on his cock. 

His lips fall to your ear, using his free hand to rub your clit. 

“Fuck, Freddie.”

Fred chuckles against your ear, his warm breath fanning your neck.

“Scream my name louder baby, I want George to hear.” He pinches your clit, your body jumping in response before he rubs fast circles around the bundle of nerves. You rest your head against his shoulder, lips parted with moans pouring from them. Your pussy tightens around his cock as his dick twitches. 

“You can cum for me baby, I’ve got you.” 

Fred’s grip on your body tightens, his hips rocking into you faster. 

“Daddy, so good.”

He kisses the side of your head, his pace picking up on your clit. He feels you clamp around his cock and your body tense. Your toes curl and your body shivers, cumming around Fred.

“Good girl, good fucking girl.” Fred whispers, the sound of your wetness filling the air as he continues to pound into you. He pushes your torso back onto the bed, holding your ass in his hands and chasing his high. Fred curses and you feel his load shoot inside of you, a few more thrusts and Fred gingerly pulls out of you. 

“Look at you baby.” He whispers, softly caressing your skin. 

You gently roll over onto your back, attempting to catch your breath as Fred rushes around for clothing before disappearing. You hear the front door to the Weasley’s home open close and a chatter fill the air. You heart rate picks up slightly, your body aching and mind blissed out to cover yourself. 

Fred reappears in the bedroom with a warm towel between his hands. Within a moment later George is sliding through the door. His eyes darkening when they land on you, legs spread and pussy dripping with his brother's cum. The twins share a look as Fred throws the towel to George who stalks over to you. 

“Such a pretty baby, our little cum slut.” George whispers, his eyes fixated on your pussy. A gasp falls from your lips at the feeling of George slipping his fingers inside of you. George pulls his fingers from you, a mix of cum sticking to his flesh. You grab George’s wrist, pulling his hand to your mouth, dragging your tongue up his fingers, sucking the mix of cum, your moan vibrating around his fingers. Your eyes lock with the younger twin, a smile present on both of their faces. 

“We’re so lucky Freddie.”

| | | |

Let me know if you'd like a part 2 with both of them.

[your-nanas-house]

Late again

◇ Pairing: Raymond Leon X best friend!Reader

◇ Warnings: anger, rough smut, creampie, arguments, Raymond, friends to lovers, mean Ray.

◇ Summary: Raymond has enough of Y/n's bullshit.

◇ Note: This is my Christmas gift for you @mrkdvidal1989. Merry Christmas Eve and Merry Christmas! 🫶🏻 I tried my best.

Raymond's piercing baby blue eyes remained fixed on his rich watch, the fabric of his leather pants squeaking as he let his leg bounce up and down in impatience. She was late…again. And he was almost completely sure of the reason for her waste of time. The particular reason that kept her busy and away from him for weeks now, away from her own best friend.

As the mixed emotions started to kick in, all swirling around like crazy…anger, sadness, jealousy and disappointment… a loud knock made its way in the uncomfortable silence of the room. Causing him to snap his eyes up to glare towards the door, his right hand covering back his watch with the sleeve of his leather jacket.

“Come in” his low voice brumming in his office, his gaze sharpening as soon as he recognized Y/n— not dressed in her timekeeper uniform but with on a short sleeveless wine red dress, tight on her torso…with a lovely heart shaped cleavage which showed off her breasts in a delicious way, and the lower half which was opening up like a flower, stopping mid-thighs… to not show too much but enough.

“You're late” Raymond quickly said, his eyes roaming around her body, taking in everything she was gifting him without even noticing. 

Her eyes rolled at his statement, not wanting to comment and explain to her best friend why she was a couple of minutes late, especially because he was acting in a weird way lately…demanding to know things and to receive explanations like if she was her dad. It was starting to annoy her.

“Oh shut up, Ray—” Y/n murmured under her breath, taking off her red heels, her eyes focusing on the task and her sore feet to notice the clear anger that washed over Raymond's face.

His body was shaking softly as his eyes squinted slightly, his jaw clenched harshly and his dilated nostrils. He wasn't mad, he was furious after keeping up with all the bullshit Y/n kept making him deal with. 

The pure crude jealousy that kept rushing in his body and that made him struggle to get his work right for nearly three weeks now, was now rushing back in his body… blinding him from rational thoughts. 

“You've been acting like a dick since I started to go out with Davin” the young woman commented casually in a pissed tone, her smaller hands still working on the muscles of her right foot when big rough hands grabbed her hips to press her harshly against the wall she was leaned on.

A squeal leaving her lipstick covered lips, before it turned into a soft groan of pain and anger “What the fuck are you doing?!” She nearly yelled at her best friend, gasping when Raymond covered her mouth quickly with his hand, his fingers digging in the flesh of her cheeks.

“Shut your fucking mouth” he growled, body pressed against her back, his hips holding her lowerback flat against the cold surface of the wall of his office “You've been acting like a shameless slut for weeks now and I had enough of your bullshit, you heard me?” He spat angrily in her ear as his free hand grabbed a hold of her neck so that he could easily move her around without her trying to fight him.

Muffled cries and insults filled the room, his harsh movements just increasing them before the collision of her body with the wooden desk echoed in the room, a single tear falling down her cheek as Y/n started to wiggle and fight him.

“Let me go, you bastard!” She hissed, attempting to bite him as he took a hold of her wrist, pressing them first above her head and then behind her back as soon as her attempt failed.

A sharp slap across her face stopped the fight she was pulling up, allowing him to manhandle her smaller body so that her front was now pressed down. 

“Raymond! Raymond, don't you fucking dare” she warned the man with anger and fead in her tone, her legs clenching softly together as his calloused hand brushed slowly against her bare neck after moving away from the way her hair— tracing an imaginary path that kept getting lower…with the zip of her dress, exposing in a sneaky teasing way more of her skin. 

Her shoulder blades twitching at the touch, her body shaking softly due to the anticipation and the painful wait of Raymond's next actions. “Look at you…” he started in a murmur, his hand now diving between her legs to press two fingers against the wet cloth that were her panties “a fucking slut… didn't do anything and you're already so fucking wet for me….because it's for me, right, sweetheart? Not for Davin or any other man” he hissed, pressing harder against her clothed entrance now, spreading her fluids in a teasing pace. Biting his bottom lip when she cried out, her head nodding as she revealed and confirmed what she asked her.

“Y-Yes, just for you, Ray” her voice cracked pathetically, making him coo mockingly at her, a smug grin covering his handsome face “Of course, darling” he whispered against the shell of her ear before leaving a wet kiss on her flushed cheek.

His hand moved away, causing a whimper from Y/n which made him chuckle… she was wiggling again, pressing her ass against his growing boner creating a lovely fiction.

“Raymond!” She whispered with a warning tone, she was getting wetter as the time passed, the arousal could be felt all over her body but— he was her best friend. 

She couldn't just let him do what he wanted and play around with her feelings she thought.

Letting happen exactly the opposite, allowing Raymond's hand to raise her dress and expose her round ass, nearly covered by the fabric of her lacy thong. “Fucking slut” he murmured angrily, spanking her harshly before staring at the red sign of his hand which was forming slowly.

His baby blue eyes didn't look away as he unbuckled his belt, working quickly on his leather pants to finally free his cock. Y/n glanced behind, taking a peak of his long thick cock, rock hard with pulsing veins… just waiting to be inside of her tight wet cunt.

A rough thrust and he was completely buried inside of her, his hand quickly covering her mouth so that they wouldn’t catch anyone’s attention and a low grunt left his own body at the amazing sensation of those warm walls squeezing his cock. It felt like heaven and he wasn’t going to back off now, he needed more…it was nearly intoxicating that whole situation.

So he started to move, not waiting for her to adjust to his size, just thrusting with the goal of seeking his own pleasure and punishing her.

Muffled moans and loud sighs could be heard all over the room, the heavenly noises of his skin slapping against hers at every rough thrusts were driving him nuts. His heavy balls hit her clit every time he made a stronger thrust, ending up in no time deep balls inside of her cunt. Drilling inside of her without stopping, his chest now pressed against her bare back so that he could hit her cervix better, causing her pain but extreme pleasure.

“You’re fucking mine” Raymond hissed in her ear, his lips brushing against her warm skin slowly down to the base of her neck, his teeth grazing it teasingly till he bite down, nearly drawing blood as soon as his orgasm hit his whole body like a train. His load being shoot deeply inside of her with a muffled groan, his body kept shaking softly as she screamed silently, rolling her eyes back at the feeling of his slow thrusts and the seed that was still flowing inside of her. 

“Fucking mine” the timekeeper murmured against her shoulder blades, leaving a wet kiss there before slowly moving out of her.. staring at his cum dripping out of her cunt, down onto her thighs and then desk. 

“I-I love you too” Y/n whispered breathlessly, allowing herself to close her eyes for a moment, yelping softly when Raymond slapped her ass as a reply.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter , @mrkdvidal1989

[mothwingwritings]

Frohe Weihnachten

Boyfriend To Death Strade X F! Reader X Ren

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!! By some miracle of the holiday season I have arrived and even wrote something, even if it is random and I struggled to get finished before Christmas. But I did it and now  I offer it to you humbly as a lil gift.

This month has unfortunately bad. All the bad had me looking for distractions to keep me from the gloom, and the search for distractions lead me to replaying Boyfriend To Death 1, and replaying BTD made me start Boyfriend to Death 2, and well… Here we are. It’s been one of the few things I could focus on that brought me joy this month (what that says about my mental health we will leave up to interpretation loooooool :)), so I decided to try my hand at writing something for it. It proved to be a fun challenge, and I am hoping to do some more BTD stuff in the future. :3

ANYWAY here is a Strade-centric fic (Ren is there too, though) I churned out amidst the December bs. He’s spoiling you in it which isn’t really a good thing for you. I hope I did him justice. He is a very nuanced guy and I had a lot of fun writing this. I can slowly feel god awful, horrible men  becoming my forte , and at this point I am just embracing it.

Please be mindful that BTD and BTD2 are adult games, so even though there is no explicit NSFW in this fic, it is for 18+ only just as its source material is. No one under the age of 18 should be reading this, thank you!

WARNINGS: Torture, stabbing, blood, degradation, forced stripping, pet play, mentions of rape/noncon, Strade is filming a snuff film and though you are a part of it, you are not the one being snuffed (congrats!), severing of body parts, nonconsensual filming and touching, kidnapping, imprisonment, butchered German (my highschool German teacher is crying somewhere) and probs some shoddy editing (sorry for the rush!).

Staring down at the gifts laid out before you, a thin layer of sweat began to coat your body.

It wasn’t so much that the boxes wrapped in vibrant, pretty, paper were that unnatural (it was Christmas day, after all) so much as it was shocking that you had received them at all, given the circumstances.

This was your first Christmas away from home, the first holiday season spent without the company of your friends and family, and their absence felt like a swift punch in the gut. None of the old traditions and celebrations you were accustomed to partaking in were around to bring you comfort this year, the laid back, pleasant atmosphere that typically encapsulated  Christmas was nowhere to be found. Any jolly vibe was replaced by discomfort, apprehension, and a festering disquiet that permeated the air, killing any and all fun normal for this day.

Across from the looming assortment of gifts, each wrapped in varying degrees of expertise, sat your captor Strade, and parked next to him was your fellow captive Ren. Both sets of eyes were drinking you in with great interest, the out-of-place youthful enthusiasm reflecting back at you doing little to quell your mounting anxiety. You shifted nervously in your seat, trying your best to remain calm. You had no idea what manner of sick surprise awaited you in those packages, all you knew was that you were dreading opening them, especially with these two watching. Thinking of what the wrong reaction to their presents may illicit was more stress inducing than the gifts themselves, which already made you feel like you were developing a hernia.

“Well, go ahead,” Strade was the first to speak, his lazy drawl and splayed out body contradicting heavily with the frenzied look in his eye, “What are you waiting for?”

Ren nodded beside him eagerly, “Go ahead, (name)! I opened mine earlier because I was too excited to wait,” he chuckled a little, a small, bashful blush illuminating his cheeks, “And um, there’s a few for you in there from me so… I hope you like them.”

Your eyes traveled from the men, down to the presents. You swallowed thickly, overwhelmed by their façade of innocence, violated by their unblinking stares.

“I-I’m sorry, I just um… Wasn’t really expecting… this…”

It wasn’t a lie, the last thing you could have predicted was a present, let alone multiple. You figured maybe Ren would get you something (he had the luxury of internet access, something you were yet to be trusted with), but it wasn’t even within the realm of fantasy that you may receive anything from Strade. The only thing you dared hope for was a small reprieve from the abuse he inflicted daily, but even that seemed too farfetched to hope for.

“Well, I say you deserve it,” Strade spoke, the calm cadence of his voice still clashing with the gleam in his eye, “what’s Christmas without presents, after all? So go ahead, open them.”

You hesitated for a moment before finally reaching a shaky hand towards the closet gift on the table. Your body was moving mechanically, and though your fear was palpable, you forced your demeanor to remain composed as you pulled the small box into your lap. Your fingers carefully tore through the thin paper, dreading revealing the mystery that shiny paper shielded you from.

And as the paper fell away piece by piece, you were shocked to find that the box contained… slippers.

You stared at them for a moment, dumbfounded. Of all the things in the world that could have been waiting inside that box, to receive something so innocuous and normal was beyond perplexing.

And the gifts continued this way. You unwrapped package after package of clothing, perfumes and toiletries, stuffed animals and snacks. Each new item bewildered you just as much as the last, leaving you feeling like all this was just the lead up of  a joke, one you felt like you were the punch line for.

 As if the gifts themselves weren’t mind boggling enough, the quantity and quality of them were just as shocking. Brand names and fancy, high end packaging stared back at you with nearly each ripped wrapping, a small slap in the face with each revelation.

It left a pit in your stomach. Not even your own parents would gift you some of these things, so why were you being treated this way by a homicidal maniac and his companion? To make matters even worse, most of the gift you actually liked. Definite thought was put into each present, unnerving you most of all. You didn’t want them to know your likes and dislikes, and you certainly didn’t want them to be so familiar with you that they could easily pick out things you may desire. It felt borderline offensive that they were able to peg you so well, like you had been wrenched open and all the hidden parts of yourself you had been hiding had been forced out in the open, secrets uncovered you wished to remain hidden.

Heebie jeebies aside, such normalcy left you scratching your head. You had an intense urge to inspect each and every item to make sure the clothes weren’t secretly lined with razors, or the stuffed animals weren’t just cute ways to conceal knives, but you contained yourself. No use in setting them off when things were going surprisingly well.

You kept yourself neutral as you thanked them, neither over eager or ungrateful as you graciously accepted the offerings. Ren beamed in recognition each time you mentioned him, delighted by the simplest praise. Strade remained nonchalant, leaning back as he leered at you with that unnerving smile he always so proudly donned on his face.

When the present pile had come to an end, an overwhelming sense of relief washed over you. You felt like you had made it out of a vary harrowing journey without so much as a scratch, and felt quite accomplished for doing so.

However, before you could feel the weight truly lifted from your shoulders, any sense of triumph quickly flew out the door as Strade slowly leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His beady eyes drilled holes through you, delighting in the apprehension his subtle shift caused you. Your blood turned to ice as he gave you a lopsided grin, his words coming out drawn out and slow, as if he were speaking to a child.

“Myyy look at that,” he sneered, “so many nice things for our (Name)! She must have some very generous admirers. It’s obvious she’s the favorite, not a single one of those boxes were for you or me, Ren!”

The weight of your situation suddenly crashed down around you. Of course these gifts wouldn’t come without some horrible caveat-you were an idiot for even thinking you would get away with this scot free.

You tried to calm yourself with the fact that Strade most likely wouldn’t go through all the hassle of spending all this money on someone he planned to kill shortly after. What would be the point? But that thought birthed an even worse fear, the expectation of getting something back in return. There wasn’t a chance in hell that you would be able to provide him a physical gift, a fact Strade was intimately aware of. That left you with one option- he was looking for reciprocation through different means.

You swallowed hard, your hands shaking as you clasped them in your lap, struggling with how to word the imminent question you had.

“Do you want… I mean, should I get you something in return?”

You hated how small your voice sounded, dreading the response your words may garner. A shiver rocked you as the smile on Strade’s face spread, his arms spreading out in a dramatic shrug as he shook his head with a laugh.

“No no, please! The only thing I want in return is for you to thoroughly enjoy your gifts, nothing else is needed. Your delight is a gift in and of itself.”

His words did little to help your dwindling nerves. A sudden harsh clap of his hands made your heart skip a beat, his body pivoting to face Ren with a sadistic smile.

“I almost forgot,” he exclaimed, his voice taking a dangerous edge, “we have one more very special surprise for our girl, don’t we?”

Your attention darted to Ren, hoping for a sign of assurance from him. The beatskin started to squirm a bit in his seat, pulling nervously at the hem of his oversized sweater. He looked over at you with lidded eyes, a dangerous gleam in them that you knew was a terrible precursor of the pain to come. 

Ren’s breathing had grown unsteady, the blush that had engulfed his face becoming so vibrant you could almost feel its heat from where you sat. While there was nervousness to his demeanor, he couldn’t quite mask the hints of his exhilaration from peeking through. The guileless enthusiasm was hard to face, causing you to avert your gaze, your heart sinking deeper. Ren was no saint himself, but he was all you had in this hell that masqueraded as a normal, middle class home. He was supposed to have your back (and often times did) in moments like these, but it appeared his demons won this round. The thrill radiating from him over your oncoming misery was perceptible. You were on your own with whatever lay ahead.

With a jerk of Strades head, Ren bounded off the couch to another room, the sound of subtle clanging reaching your ears as he dug around out of sight. You careened your body, hoping to maybe get a peek of whatever the hell Ren had ran so jubilantly to acquire, but you immediately stopped once you heard a chuckle rumble from Strade’s chest.

“My my~,” he purred, the sound causing an instinctive shiver, “so eager this morning (name)! I can only hope you keep that up once you see what the surprise actually is, hm?”

Before you had a chance to respond, Ren barreled back into the room, slightly out of breath and clutching some sort of metallic, chain linked contraption in is hand.

“Sorry,” he lightly huffed, handing the item in question to Strade, “I hid it really well so it took a moment to get.”

Once it was in his grasp, Strade turned to you, holding out the item so you could finally view it in all its glory.

It was a new collar-a dog training collar, to be precise. This one however had been modified, the spikes lining the interior of the collar, while typically coated with a thick, squishy plastic to as not to hurt the dog in their training stage, were missing their protection. The metal nubs that the plastic encased were also typically dull and rounded on most training collars, meant to poke and prod instead of maim and hurt. You would not be getting that manner of gentle encouragement it seemed, your body tensing as you stared at each harshly pointed spike. The needle like protrusions glistened so brilliantly in the overhead light it almost appeared as if the collar was made of diamonds.

You sat perfectly still, in a complete daze as Strade approached you and swiftly released the thick electric collar from around your neck. The cool air hit your sweat drenched flesh, giving you a chill. While it was nice to be without the weight of that vile contraption, the freedom was only momentary as he clasped your new chain links into place across your throat. Though it was much more delicate than your previous collar, for some reason it felt much heavier than its bulky electric counterpart.

You winced as he gave the leash a small pull, grinning when a sharp, shocked cry fell past your lips. The needles hadn’t broken the skin yet, but the action did make you become keenly aware of just much damage they could cause with very minimal effort. The delicate nature of your current standing was looking bleaker with each passing second, uncontrollable shivers wracking your body as you eyed Strade fiddling carelessly with your leash. He seemed pleased by the attention his minor ministrations were awarding him, humored by the pain he could bring you with a mere flick of his wrist.

“I-it looks pretty on you, (Name),” Ren stuttered, a nervous smile complimenting the red of his cheeks, “Kind of dainty, like a fancy necklace. It really suits you.”

“It is pretty, isn’t it?” Strade jeered, fingering the chains that hung heavy around your neck, “I considered one for you too Ren, I didn’t want to make you jealous, you know? But then I figured hell, if I get this for (Name) Ren’ll probably enjoy this just as much as I do, so it’s already a two for one deal.”

Giving your cheek a few mild slaps, Strade turned his gaze towards Ren, “I trust that you’ll take good care of (Name) if I’m ever out and about and you want to have some special fun with her. A little pet time for my pet would do him some good, I think.”

The flippant insinuation made bile rise in the back of your throat.

“Now,” Strade pulled tighter on the leash, prompting you to rise to your feet and stand before the men. He lifted the chain above his head, laughing as you rose to tiptoes to avoid gouging your neck, “What do we say after we receive such a nice present, hmmm~?”

“Thank you,” you choked the words through your indignation, the spikes scratching uncomfortably against your skin as you did so. After several seconds of your balancing act, Strade lowered his hand, granting you the ability to stand normally. You released the breath you were holding, thankful that for at least this moment, you escaped agony.

“So ein gutes Mädchen für mich,” he cooed condescendingly, patting your head as if you were an actual dog, “you are really making me proud! But the fun isn’t over yet, in fact, this is just the first part of your special surprise,” his eyes widened at your obvious despair, “Aren’t you lucky?”

Without further ado he stomped past you, leash gripped tightly in his hand as he led your further into the house. While there was more leeway to the leash than anticipated, you still hustled to follow after him, fearful of the barbs encircling your throat. His whistled as he walked, his demeanor so exuberant that for a moment you felt he might start skipping. Ren trailed behind you, following closely in your footsteps.

It didn’t take long for you to catch on to where you were headed. As you came to stop before the thick, iron door that separated the rest of the house from the hell-hole that was the basement, tidal wave of fear washed over you. Strade took a deep breath, relishing all that was too come, immersed in the anticipation he was undoubtedly feeling. He turned to you and smiled, and you fought to keep a grip on your sanity. Feeling feint, your eyes flicked from him, back to the imposing door. Your heart was banging so violently in your chest from the sheer amount of terror that was coursing through your veins that you worried you may pass out.

How many people had met cruel, agonizing fates down those stairs? How many gallons of blood had dripped down the walls, pooled on the floor, snaked through the drains? How many anguished screams had reverberated off those sound proof walls?

You began to panic as Strade opened the door with ease, wasting no time making his way down. You hadn’t been to the basement since Strade had kidnapped you many months ago and you had hoped it would be a place that you never found yourself in again. It relieved you when Strade had forbid you and Ren from stepping foot down there, one of the few orders he gave that you were actually happy to oblige. Strade only took people to the basement for one reason and one reason only, and the fact that he was so pleasantly dragging you down there right now did not bode well for you in the slightest.

“W-wait,” you called out nervously, grabbing at the chain leash in an attempt to stop his descent. “W-why are we going down here?”

“Because it’s where the rest of your present is,” he answered as if it were obvious, a tinge of annoyance in his voice as he shot you a pointed look, “Now come on.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but a gentle touch on your shoulder stopped you.

“It’s ok, (Name),” Ren’s voice sounded softly in your ear. You could tell he was doing his best to sound reassuring. “We are allowed down there today, Strade said we could as a special treat for Christmas. It’s OK, I promise,” he gave your shoulder a small squeeze, before planting a fleeting kiss to your cheek, “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

His words did little to assuage the overwhelming terror you were feeling, sinking its claws deep in your battered soul, holding you in a death grip. You were past the point of a panic attack, now fearing a heart attack may be what does you in. At this point you wondered if that would be a mercy over whatever awaited you down there.

Forced breathes rattled from your lungs, erratic and strained as you stared into Strade’s expectant eyes, knowing his patience was rapidly diminishing. As much as you wanted to get whatever was coming over with, your legs lost the ability to move, your body denying every command your brain was giving to take the first step.

Hesitating a moment too long elicited a brutal tug from Strade, effectively ending your indecision as you were sent tumbling down after him. You whimpered as you felt the barbs of the collar tear into your flesh. Small rivulets of blood snaked from each fresh wound, dripping down your shoulders, back, and chest to strain the collar of your shirt. As a rare act of mercy, Strade caught you, his thick arm acting as a barrier between you and the concrete you were plummeting head first towards.  For once you were thankful to be within the monster’s grasp, a sore chest and aching shoulder from where he grabbed you were far better than any injury you would have attained from the fall.

Consumed by a rush of adrenaline from the tumble, you neglected to realize your hands had latched to Strade’s arm like a lifeline. Embarrassment flooded you, quickly prompting you to release your hold on him. He laughed at the flush on your cheeks, your body jostling along with the rumble of his chest. His hand relinquished its grip on your shoulder, leaving behind angry red fingerprints, as if he had seared your flesh with a mere touch. His newly freed hand moved to tangle itself in your hair, eliciting a whimper as his nails dug into your scalp. Each place his body made contact with yours felt like it was burning.

Without warning, he roughly brought the side of your head to his lips, the stubble of his cheeks scratching your skin as he smashed his face against yours, taking in a deep breath. Excited puffs of breath tickled your ear as he spoke.

 “Hurry up now,” his voice was gruff, but the words came out in a sing-song manner, “Don’t start misbehaving now, it would be a total bummer if you had to miss out on this, (Name)~”

With a wistful sigh he released his hold, leaving your momentarily reeling as you stumbled back, trying to reclaim your baring’s. Strade didn’t give much of a chance to do so, continuing on his way with another yank of the leash, forcing you to scramble after him once more.

Your body gave an involuntary shiver as your feet touched the chilly concrete floor. Strade flipped the lights, causing you to recoil at the sudden brightness. Your eyes grew watery as they struggled to adjust, but when they finally did you wished more than ever you could have just remained in the dark.

Though you hadn’t been in the basement since the week of your capture, everything was just as you remembered it. Horrible memories flooded your mind as you took in your surroundings, your brain assaulted by flashbacks of months prior. All the same home appliances and tools still lined the back wall, typically innocent devices most people used for repair jobs and building projects that no one would take a second glance at were this a normal basement. In Strades hands however, they became tools of destruction and torment, capable of the vilest atrocities.

You heard the loud whirring of the freezer off to the side before you saw it, the outdated device still valiantly chugging away as it preserved god knows what on its rickety inner shelves. The noise it spewed was so grating you wondered why he didn’t just replace the damn thing, or at least try and fix it. Near it stood the work table that housed his buzzsaw, looming ominously as it waited patiently for its next use (whether that be for flesh or for wood, who was to say?).

Witnessing these normally mundane items again made your chest hurt, a deep, indescribable level of horror spreading through every inch of your body as you struggled to reacclimate yourself. You were sure this place would haunt you as long as you lived, whether you stood in it or not didn’t matter.

Your throat went dry as you stared at the dark stains that littered the floor, remnants of various human’s bodily fluids. Blood, vomit, piss, and everything else that may leak from a human corpse was so continuous and abundant that there was no hope of the marks ever diminishing. Something told you Strade didn’t seem to mind, however. If anything, seeing those stains probably brought him some level of happiness, acting as pleasant little reminders of all the slaughter he had committed, a trophy for the lives he had stolen.

And there, smack dab in the middle of the basement stood the support beam he had tied you to, effectively barring your escape from this place. Witnessing it again was bad enough, but as your eyes locked onto it your heart started racing once more, your terror hitting unprecedented levels at the realization that there was a body there, tied up and trapped just as you once were.

At first you thought maybe you were hallucinating, seeing some phantom version of yourself your mind had conjured under the extreme stress you were facing. But as you continued to stare, noticing the slight rise and fall of their chest, hearing the small wheezes coming from their direction with each motion, it became apparent they were no figment of your imagination. Long hair fell from their slumped head, obscuring your vision of their face, but judging by what you could see of their body they looked to be around your age, similar to your build. You couldn’t help but wonder if you shared other features, had the same eye color, or maybe a similar facial structure.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Strade picked them because they reminded him of you.

Witnessing another human in this state made your stomach turn. It wasn’t so long ago that you were in that exact situation, and seeing them there helpless and oblivious to what lay before them filled you with the distressing urge to try and rescue them. If you could only run to them, untie their bindings and embrace them, let them know you were there for them and that they would be ok… Stupidly wisheful thinking, but maybe a miracle could still happen and that sweet lie would come true…

You shook your head slightly, dispelling the thought. No, it was all a tragic pipe dream, the fact they were here meant they were as good as dead and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do to stop that.

“Hey!”

Strade barked, breaking you from the spell you were under. You jumped to attention, your wide eyes turning to him to give him your full attention. His scowl lessened at your recognition, “I know it’s all very exciting (Name), but pay attention when I am talking to you, alright?”

“Sorry,” your mouth barely formed the word, spitting it out so fast you wondered if it was even understandable. You were still in shock from being in such a terrible place, your brain lost in a fog as it struggled to comprehend why you were here, what Strade wanted of you, who that person on the floor was, and if you would make it through the day.

He sighed before stepping closer to you, irritation still lingering in his features. You fought every urge telling you to bolt, your body jolting as he gently patted your cheeks. After a few soft pats to garner your attention his strong hands continued to cup your cheeks, cradling your face in his palms. His skin was warm, the sweat from his hand moistening your skin as his thumb traced absentminded circles across scars he had created.

“Strip.”

The command didn’t register at first, making him lose patience. As you stood stock still his brows began to knit, foot tapping a bit as he waited for you to comply. After several seconds of inactivity on your end, he snapped his fingers in realization, his expression relaxing as something donned on him.

“Oh wait, it’s probably hard with the collar, right? Don’t worry, I’ll help you out.”

From an unseen back holster, he brandished an imposing hunting knife, one that you would remember anywhere. It was the same one he tormented you the day he met you, the feel of it on your skin seared into your memory for all eternity. It had done a brilliant job keeping you at bay when he first imprisoned you, serving him well as the main tool that broke you.

Seeing it again was all too overwhelming, all too horribly familiar. Your body quaked, tears starting to flood your eyes, making your vision waver. Your lips moved, your throat struggling to speak, fighting to come up with something, anything that may stop him from using it on you. But ultimately there was nothing you could force out, so you just stood there blankly, flapping your lips in a failed attempt at self-preservation.

“What’s wrong?” Strade pouted, pulling at your collar, forcing you closer to him. You could barely feel the pain through your terror. “If you have something to say, you should say it. Or are you just so thrilled by all this that you can’t form a coherent thought,” he tutted, “Ah, I know the feeling well (Name), but don’t suddenly go mute on me! I want to fully enjoy all of your reactions, so don’t hold back. Think of it as your gift to me.” You shivered as he placed the knife under your shirt, cutting away haphazardly at the thin fabric, uncaring that he was nicking your flesh in the process.

With his body so near, the only sound you could focus on was Strade’s labored, rasping breathes as they rattled from his throat. He blithely ripped what was left of your clothing from your body, leaving it discarded in torn heaps on the ground. Thankfully he spared your underwear, but as his fingers languidly played with the strap of your bra, you wondered if he wouldn’t also reconsider letting you keep what remained of your decency.

“Tonight will be so good, meine Haustier,” his voice sounded hoarse, thick with anticipation as he hovered over you, nuzzling his face into your hair, “… This reminds me a lot of the night I brought you home. Maybe I am just feeling nostalgic, having you down here with me again, but it’s hard not to get wrapped up in such fond memories.”

He chuckled, “I’m thankful I was able to reel myself in back then and keep you, no matter how much I wanted to do otherwise.” He pointed his knife to the unconscious body on the floor, “This one I brought here today won’t be nearly as fun as you were, so I don’t want you to feel jealous, alright? You’re where you are for a reason, just as they are where they are for a reason. Mein Liebchen, I’m so glad I can share this moment with you...”

He pressed in closer to you, an unmistakable bulge in his pants grazing the exposed flesh of your leg as he did so. You both shuddered at the brief contact, though his reaction was for reasons far different than your own.

“This intimacy is nice, don’t you think? Sharing your passions with those close to you is what meaningful relationships are allllll about.”

He pulled away from you slightly, pressing the blade of his knife under your chin. Wincing at the briefest of contact with the blade, you raised your head to avoid slicing of your chin, stopping once you were eye to eye with Strade. Your noses nearly touched as he took in the features of your face, smiling at the sheer horror reflected in your eyes.

“And I want to remind you just how passionate I can be~”

He spun you around, giving you an abrupt shove. Unable to keep your balance you fell forward, your knees colliding with the stony floor. A hiss of pain slipped past your lips at the contact as Strade kneeled down next to you, tangling his fingers once more in your hair. With a sharp yank, he pulled your head up, directing your attention to the far corner of the room.

With his guidance, your gaze landed on something new.  A cage you couldn’t recall ever seeing filled your took up a sizable chunk of the side wall, making you wonder how you missed see it to begin with. How he got such an unwieldy contraption down the stairs previously without your notice was also lost on you. The thing looked far too heavy for one person to easily transport, even if it came in pieces.

It looked incredibly sturdy, each side comprised of thick, imposing iron bars. The cage was moderately sized- large enough for people to sit in, but not so large that it would be a comfortable arrangement. At a glance, it seemed to be made for a dog, but the girth of the bars and thick padlock on the door were completely unnecessary features for a canine, even the largest and most aggressive dog breeds wouldn’t need something so robust to keep them contained. Strade must have had it special made, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who it was made for. You clenched your fists, fighting the queasiness that this new facet of the day brought to the table. You knew the cage shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did, but you couldn’t help but be a bit addled by it. You briefly wondered if there was a limit to how much he would spend to fuel his sick intentions.

The cage sat off to the side, out of the way of the main walkway and slightly hidden behind the stairs so that it wasn’t immediately noticeable, but it was still close enough to the rest of the rooms fixtures that anyone trapped inside would have a clear view or what was happening around them. Which you figured was the point. What better seat for an unwilling audience?

“I originally bought this for Ren, but he was much easier to house train then you were.” Strade laughed, removing his hand from your hair to clap you on the shoulder. He turned his gaze to Ren who stood by the cage expectantly, waiting to fulfill his role in the nights unfolding misery. “Why don’t you show her inside, Ren? Get yourselves all comfy for the show.”

With a quick nod, Ren scampered in before you, giving you just enough room to squeeze in beside him. Nestling in, he turned to you with a strange mix of fear and anticipation in his eyes, patting the area next to you with a small smile on his lips.

“Come in, (Name),” he looked up at you through his lashes, bashful despite the situation he willingly crawled into, “There’s plenty of room.”

Strade gave you no opportunity to refute his invitation, dragging you along the floor by the collar until you arrived at the cages entrance. You gagged as the spikes dug into your flesh, your fingers attempting to find purchase and pull them out. But your grip kept slipping, the blood that coated each metallic link making it impossible to pry away.

At the entrance, Strade quickly unlatched your adjoining leash, pushing the side of his foot against your ass to shove you into the cage, treating you much the same way you would a misbehaving dog. He slammed the door behind you the moment your limbs were barely through the door, preventing you from backtracking. He hastily secured the huge padlock after he did so, effectively trapping you and Ren inside.

“I know you’ll watch, but I can’t trust her,” Strade spoke to Ren, kneeling down so that he was eye level with the two of you, “Latch her collar to the top bar, I want her focused.”

Ren was quick to follow orders, contorting himself around you so he could bind you to the cage. Part of you hoped he would show mercy, sneakily attaching the collar to a lower bar on the cage to give you more breathing room. As you felt the spikes dig farther into your skin that dream dashed from your mind. You choked back a sob as you heard the clasp click into place behind you, Ren planting a fleeting kiss to the top of your head as he did so, his way of begging forgiveness for the pain he was helping inflict

Sitting with your back completely straight, you kept your legs tucked under you, the full weight of your body supported by your knees. The slightest bit of slouching, leaning, or turning your head would plunge the spikes into your already torn up neck, amplifying your suffering. Locked into place, you were left with no choice but to sit at attention.

Maybe you could have unclasped the collar yourself for a bit of reprieve, you were sure after some blind fumbling you could figure out how to free yourself. But stuck behind a formidable lock with Strade on the other side, what would be the point? There was no place for you to run to, and if you disobeyed Strade at this point you were a sitting duck. A heavy sense of resignation settled in your soul. You no longer fought the tears that came to your eyes, letting them freely dribble down your checks to land in soft drops on your lap.

With no hope of escape, that left you with one option to get through this-endure.

“Überraschung,” Strade exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air as he stared down at you with wild, manic eyes. “What a sight this is! I must say (Name), even though your overall your obedience has improved, you still have quite the rebellious streak, don’t you?” He leaned down to get a better view of you, breathing deeply as his face began turning red from excitement, “Not that I don’t like when you get feisty, training and domesticating wild animals is something I take great pleasure in after all. But I have to say, seeing you like this?” He released an elongated, low whistle. “Schön. Keeping you has been worth it for moments like this. You really are a treat, behavioral issues and all.”

He exhaled as he slowly rose to his feet, his eyes never once leaving yours. “This is good, natural even. You belong here, (Name). Chained up like that… You’re right where you are supposed to be.”

His words were shaky, his composure slipping as his tongue trailed his bottom lip. The flush of his cheeks was now also creeping down his neck, ardent lust seeping from his expression. You shivered. Were it not for these bars separating you, you loathed to think what atrocities he would commit against you in this amped up state.

You bit back the retort that threatened to spill from your quivering jaw, biting so hard on your bottom lip you tasted blood. You hated him, loathed him with your entirety, but you also understood that one misspoken word was all it would take for you to be swapped with whatever unfortunate soul was tied to that pole. Despite it all, you still wanted to live. Clinging to the hope that someday you would get the chance to leave this place behind and return to the life that was stolen from you.

Making your freedom a reality was your daily affirmation you repeated to yourself, the one thing that truly kept you going. You made a promise to yourself that Strade would someday turn into nothing more than a horrible nightmare, a dirty smear in your past, and you very much intended to keep that promise. You would someday live out the rest of your life happy and safe, surrounded by friends and family, people you loved and who would love you in turn. Maybe you would even get married, have a kid or two.

Part of you knew thinking that way was foolish, and it usually caused you more despair than bringing you any true peace. But even if it was a silly dream, it was all you had. Strade has already stolen everything else, so you clung to your dream as your only salvation, relying on it as a means of survival.  

You had to make it through this, you had to get away and rebuild yourself from the shattered pieces Strade had broken you into. Not just for yourself, but for everyone he had ever murdered and brutalized. It was the only way you could beat him. It was the only way you could win.

“Well, no point in making any of us wait any longer,” Strade announced as he turned on his heel, making his way over to the slumped form in the center of the room. Your heart went out to them as he directed his full attention their way, staring down at them with a crazed, bloodthirsty smile. “This is pretty new for me too, ya know? Usually this is ‘me’ time, moments I can work and enjoy myself with the new friends I bring in in peace. But having a live audience? That’s sure gonna add some thrill to this.”

He turned his attention back towards you and Ren, his face glowing in excitement. “And I figured what the hell! It’s Christmas, right? Why be greedy when I can share in the celebration!  Ren already loves watching my little home movies, so I thought, ‘why not do a special live performance for my two favorite individuals?’”

Your body lurched in horror as Strade abruptly kicked his hostage square in the stomach, the force of it waking them with an agonized groan. You gasped as they coughed in pain, spit and blood sputtering from their mouth as slowly they came to. You watched on in morbid silence, a frown spreading across your lips when as you noticed the dawning horror that came over them. They were no longer in an ignorant fog of sleep, fully aware now that something truly dreadful was about to happen to them. 

Terrified recognition filled their eyes when they landed on Strade. Instantly they started to cry, whimper and plead, leaving you to wonder just how badly things went down between the two of them before you all ended up down here.

Trembles wracked your body, each quiver faintly clanging the metal of your collar against the cage. How you yearned to deafen your ears, gouge out your eyes, or will yourself away from what was unfolding before you. The mere thought of witnessing the oncoming torture, reliving your own capture through this doomed sod…  it was all too much. If given the opportunity, you would have done anything to flee and hide.

But there was no running from this. You couldn’t turn away. You couldn’t do anything at all.

“Hey buddy, calm down!” Strade spoke in a light hearted manner, invading the captive’s personal space as he crouched down in front of them. “Don’t you know it’s Christmas? Since you were looking so sad all alone at that bar last night I decided to play the role of Santa and give you a little gift! I took you in out of the goodness of my heart, because no one deserves to be alone on the holiday, right? And look,” He roughly grabbed their chin, forcing their tear stained face towards your cage, “I even brought friends to assure you wouldn’t be lonely! Pretty thoughtful of me, huh?”

You averted your stare as soon as they made eye contact, unable to stand the sheer hopelessness reflected in their forlorn gaze. Their whimpering and pleading continued, unfettered by the dialogue Strade was droning on. The desperation in their voice as they tried to reason with the most unreasonable man on the planet was making your skin crawl, irritation setting your face into a scowl. Couldn’t they see how amped up Strade was? Were they really so deluded to think their incessant begging would do them any favors? Did they not realize their cries were just exciting him more?

Eventually, you squeezed your eyes closed, wanting a break from it all even for a few seconds. Their naivety was driving you insane- a cruel reminder of the person you once were.

Suddenly, an ear splitting scream pieced the air, causing your eyes to fly open. The blood in your veins turned to ice as you saw Strade’s signature knife protruding from the captive’s leg, his hand still wrapped firmly around the handle, wriggling it further into their meat. The blade was buried deep, deep enough to cause true damage, and the blood that gushed from the new wound quickly gathered in a morbid puddle beneath their legs. If left unattended, you were sure they may bleed out, dying in slow agony.

“Oops, maybe I went a bit too deep there,” Strade nonchalantly spoke, pulling the knife carelessly from their leg. They released another sharp cry at the blades exit, squirming in pain and misery as blood sputtered from the gash. Strade continued to speak, unfettered by the gore that splashed against his leg, “But you weren’t listening very well when I was trying to talk earlier, so hopefully that’ll help you focus. I’ll try and be more mindful though, don’t wanna do too much too soon. You’re the star of the show today buddy, can’t have you dipping out on us before we even get started.”

Strade cut a piece of fabric from their victim’s shirt, tying it sloppily around the gaping wound he inflicted. It wasn’t placed as a means to help them so much as a way to help staunch the bleeding to keep them lucid for as long as possible. If there was one thing Strade hated, it was his fun being prematurely cut short.

“Well,” Strade slapped his knees, lifting himself up to his full height, “Usually I like to get to know you a little better before we get to this point, but what with my special guests and all, we don’t have as much time as I would have liked to become acquainted.”

Your eyes trailed Strade as he walked over to a tripod sitting off to the side. Your eyes widened as he reached for it, setting it up with skilled expertise as he had done so many times before. His captive stared blankly at the camera, clearly confused as to what awaited them. You couldn’t decide if their ignorance was a tragedy or a godsend. If they knew this was their final moment of relative peace before their violent end… Would they try an appreciate it, or would that just bring them more dismay?

After the main camera was set up to his liking, he made his way towards you and Ren. You stiffened at he approached, a new spike of anxiety rising within you as he fiddled with something in his pocket. It was your turn for confusion now, staring in perplexion as he pulled out another small camera, setting it up so that it faced your cage. After some finagling to get it just right, the small red light on it turned green.

“There we go,” Strade smiled, tying his signature bandana around his mouth after he completed his setup, his wide eyes gleaming with cruel intent, “Figured the viewers at home deserved a little special something, too. Smile for the camera you two!”

Shame flushed your exposed body as you did all you could to avoid looking into the camera’s nebulous, black lens. You curled yourself up as much as physically possible, revolted by the realization that other sickos were tuning in, getting off to an impending murder and your humiliation. How many people were on the other side of that small orb, desperately waiting for Strade to begin so they could scratch their fucked up itch? How many pairs of eyes were roving over your barely clothed, bloody body right now, pleased for such an enticing appetizer before they dug into the main course? You didn’t know what disgusted you more, Strade himself or the fact that he had enough ‘fans’ out there that were of a similar mindset, who avidly watched and supported him enough that he could live comfortably off live-streaming his slaughters.

After some brief adjustments (apparently your camera wasn’t focused enough, the ‘fans’ were complaining about not having a clear shot of ‘the bitch’s stupid, sniveling face’), Strade eventually made his way back over to the main camera, flicking it on and checking the feed on a nearby laptop to make sure everything was looking as it should. Once he was satisfied, he hopped in front of the camera, the jovial smile on his face noticeable even behind his mask.

“Frohe Weihnachten an alle! Oh wait,” he fished around in a drawer beneath his laptop, eventually yielding a slightly wrinkled Santa’s hat that he plopped gleefully upon his head. “That’s better! How is everyone doing this fine, festive holiday?”

Strade’s eyes scanned over the chat, laughing here and there as he read peoples responses. “I see you all noticed the new edition to the party. Ren, (Name), why don’t you give the nice people watching at home a smile?”

Refusing to acknowledge his deluded request, you kept your eyes to the floor, focusing on anything else but the situation you were in. Your legs ached from your balancing act, the impression of the cold cage bars long since deeply engraved in your skin. You grimaced when you tried to reposition them, the bastard could have at least thrown a towel in here for you.

Strade responded to a few more ‘questions’ before releasing a low whistle. “Hey now,” he chided, his voice holding a warning edge to it “I’m happy to share my cute pets with you, but some things only I get to see, yeah? Get your minds out of the gutter, the requests for the day aren’t for them, they’re for our latest catch.”

Strade scratched the back of his head, looking towards you with an amused twinkle in his eye.  “I think you two may be a bigger hit then our new friend! A little rude to our guest, but I can’t say I blame the masses.” He gave an exaggerated shrug, laughing a bit as he shook his head. “But enough talk. Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

He made his way over to his tool wall, his finger trailing the varying allotment of devices he owned. He stopped briefly, looking back towards the camera with lidded eyes. “So what are you guys feeling? Should we bust out our old friend the drill, or maybe something a bit more colorful, like the new handsaw I purchased the other day?”

The captive began to struggle with renewed intensity against their binds, thrashing about in a final attempt of escape. Their cries for help turned into wailing screeches, screaming and cursing as loud as they could muster in the hope that someone would magically hear them and come to their rescue. You hissed under your breath angrily, wishing they had never been caught, wishing they could spend Christmas with their family, wishing they would just shut up, wishing this would all end.

“Ohhh, we got a lively one~” Strade purred, grabbing a tomahawk off a nearby hook as he eyed chat, “and I agree with the majority here, it’s best to start off slow. Let’s begin with some little stuff and work up to the main event, really taking our time to enjoy this wonderful moment together.” He eyed the tool in his hand, picking at a remainder of a price tag that stuck stubbornly to the handle. “You may not believe me, but I only purchased this little guy to help with some pesky overgrowth in my yard, not to use on my company. Guess it can’t hurt to test out its sharpness and strength beforehand though, can it?”

Your heart palpitated as Strade stalked his way over to his cornered victim, mutely praying that some act of god would occur that would keep them from being decimated. He towered over them, thoughtfully musing on where he wanted to begin, what part of their body he wanted to mutilate first. He absent mindedly tossed the tomahawk from one hand to the next as he considered his plan of attack, sizing up his prey as if they were nothing more than a slab of meat. You struggled briefly against your binding in last ditch effort to shield yourself you from the ‘show’. But like a cruel child jabbing their fingers into you when you weren’t paying them enough attention to them, the spikes gave you a torturous reminder of the position you had been assigned to play in this performance.

Oddly enough, the stab of the protrusions didn’t hurt nearly as much as they did before. Maybe your body was adapting to the cruelties Strade subjugated it to, or maybe you were finally becoming desensitized to everything you had been forced to experience.  Maybe someday it would get to the point where you could be completely unfeeling, like a robot just going through the motions as Strade lived out his wicked life, you forcefully in tow. It was almost a comforting thought, whatever adjustments your body and soul had to make to assure your continued survival, so be it.

However, if the pit forming in your stomach and sweat drenching your brow as you watched Strade inch closure and closure to his victim was any indicator, you were sure something inside of you would always hold on to amity, reminding you just how painfully human you were, heart-breaking empathy and all.

‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,’ you chanted in your head, fresh tears carving slick trails down your cheeks when Strade kick their leg, digging the heel of their boot harshly into their stab wound. Bright red bloomed around the fabric covering the wound, their screams growing gravelly the longer they strained their vocal cords. You did your best to hold back the worst of your sobs, rogue sniffles and hiccups escaping despite your best efforts. If there was an afterlife, you hoped that theirs was full of nothing but warmth, peace, and all the things they love. It was the least they deserved for this.

You were vaguely aware of Ren repositioning himself next to you, his head nestling against your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you, shielding you slightly in an almost protective manner. Pressed so close, you could feel that he was shivering, his heart beating a mile a minute as it thrummed against your skin. Whether it was from fear, excitement, or both, you were unable to say.

Strade turned around, giving you one last mirthful glance as he readied his tomahawk over the toes of his captive’s right foot.  Though they squirmed intensely, he held a death grip on the limb, keeping them from breaking free. “Make sure to pay close attention now,” desire radiated from his demeanor, voice husky as narrowed eyes briefly roved your restrained form “and don’t feel too neglected over there, I’ll make sure to save some of the fun juuust for you once I finish with our pal over here.”

His eyes darted to the camera, shooting it a look of mock sympathy “For my eyes only of course, you all understand right? Thank you for being here friends, and Frohe Weihnachten für mich!~”

He slammed the blade down. A blood curdling scream erupted from the center of the room as their toes disconnected from the rest of their foot, signaling the beginning of their end.

And you sat like a statue, cold and rigid as your unwilling eyes bore witness to each act of savagery.

[octuscle]

Merry Christmas! Or, er, Happy Holidays! Don’t wanna be presumptuous but I haven’t a clue what you celebrate, oh great wise Chronivac Support.

Aw why bother with niceties, you can probably tell I’m buttering you up. I’ll just get straight to it.

I live in the one campus dorm that’s right next to a frat house notorious for its wild, all-night parties. For most of my dorm mates, they love being so close to such a hotspot for booze and babes, but I—an eternally sober fruitcake— don’t really care for all that. Not to mention the loud music and flashing lights outside my window while I’m trying to sleep, god it drives me crazy.

Now, obviously I’m asking you to help me out, but I got a special request. Seeing as it’s the holly jolly time of year, I figured why not spice up my request. So, could you have one of their parties crashed by a real deal, mean Krampus? You know, Krampus, big, brutish, fuzzball that’s all about punishing naughty kids? You think you can have him punish those naughty frat boys and turn them into good little (or big, rather) musclebrats?

First of all, have a great holiday season too. I can't wish you a peaceful holiday season based on the information you've given me. I can understand you, but I don't really know how I can help you either. I'll send you a Krampus mask and a rod, maybe that will help with the next excess next door.

Bloody hell! It's Tuesday! In the middle of the week! Okay, maybe tomorrow is St. Nicholas Day, but that's no reason to make such a racket again. On the other hand… It's Krampus night. The evening of December 5th. There's no better occasion to put on the mask, grab the rod and really shake up the party in the house next door. You quickly put on a tracksuit and sneakers, put on the heavy mask, grab the rod and head next door.

The door is open. And step inside. Boozing and bawling frat boys are partying to loud music. And you see some of your roommates from your dorm. You shout "Krampus is here to punish the bad guys!" into the roar. And you start beating every jock who gets in your way with the rod. Nobody reacts at first. Then laughter. Then panic! Whoever your rod hits falls to the ground. You go into a sheer rush. Behind you, men lie on the ground with their limbs twitching, the drunken guys flee from you as best they can. But most of them just stumble over each other and make easy work of you. The big bell on your belt announces your arrival. You walk up the stairs with heavy steps. A few of the fugitives try to escape from the windows. A few barricade the doors. But no door can withstand your powerful step.

Apart from your own breathing and the music, nothing else can be heard. You pull the plug of the sound system out of the socket. Dead silence. The guys on the floor breathe peacefully and evenly. Another frat boy is hiding behind the sofa. One last strike with the rod. And your work on Krampus night is done.

Back in your dorm room, you take off your heavy mask. You're sweating in your heavy Krampus costume made of leather and sheepskins. The costume has been in your family for generations. Even your great-grandfather regularly took part in the Krampus runs in your home village in Salzburger Land.

Peace at last! "De verdammtn Gödln hom hodlt as kriagt, wos eana zugsteat!" you think to yourself as you finally take the costume off again and put it away in the wardrobe. And you fall into a deep and undisturbed sleep.

When your alarm clock rings at 07:00 the next morning, it's morning roll call in the fraternity house next door. The fraternity is known as the toughest training ground on campus. And home to the hottest guys. This morning they've been roaming the campus, stuffing candy and condoms into the good guys' polished boots. And now there are a few bare-chested push-ups in the snow. You love this sight.

You really couldn't ask for a better neighborhood.

Your pic found @hairysweatysmelly, the pic of the enhanced frat bros @nation-of-bros

[aelinschild]

Season Of Forgiveness

Main Masterlist

Happy Holidays everyone!! I'm a little (Very, sorry!!) late with this post, but this is my gift for the 2023 Rowaelin Secret Santa! Big thank you to @rowaelinscourt for organizing it!! This is dedicated to the lovely @shyvioletcat , I wish you a very merry holiday season, and hopefully you enjoy this absolute monstrosity. I actually do not know what took over me during writing this, but I'm just happy its done.

SYNOPSIS: Holidays are known to be the season of joy, but when that joy is no longer Aelin's, she is forced to find peace in the unknown. WORDCOUNT: 9k GENERAL WARNINGS: Very light one bed trope, mentions of sex, angsty for no reason, swearing, alcohol, arguments, choking and CPR, happy ending dont worry

(A/N: After writing this, I realize it has the same vibe of calling Die Hard a Christmas movie. Granted, I actually didn't finish the movie, but from what I watched, how the fuck is it a Christmas movie?? This is me telling you that this fic is probably like that lol)

Hour One

Fuck.

There was really no other way to put it. Fuck is such a versatile word, situationally. Aelin can recount the times she's moaned out breathy fucks, and the times she's roared them during moronic altercations. 

This type of fuck? Certainly not the cathartic type. 

This fuck is the sum of all past mistakes in her life, multiplied by her best friend's scheming mind, and then raised to the power of the irrational choice to return to her old university town. 

On the queen-sized bed were two plush towels. A robe. Face cloths and minimal toiletries. 

Oh, and a fucking red rose. 

In Lysandra’s plush apartment – a classic Victorian style, with ivy creeping up the brick fireplace, and stained glass windows at odd intervals – she was the owner of three bedrooms. 

And to Aelin's luck, there happened to be two couples staying here this evening. Which meant two of the three bedrooms were now occupied. Mathematically speaking, the two other individuals would each need their own room. 

It seems that math slipped Lysandra's mind when she organized her little yearly anniversary Yulemas Eve dinner. How…pleasant.

Chest rising and falling with barely contained frustration, Aelin didn't know whether to yell or cry. Her hand held her overnight bag so tight her knuckles were pressing at the whites. Nails digging into supple skin. 

It didn't take a genius to figure out what Lysandra had done. But it took a lot of willpower for Aelin to not storm out of the room and choke her friend for the transgression. And just past the blood rushing in her ears, she could hear the friendly greetings of her other friends as they crossed the threshold of Lys’ little home. Welcomed into the warmth of tradition. 

Oh, I'm going to kill you, Lysandra. 

Aedion and Lys would – obviously – take their master bedroom. Located around a corner and at the end of that hall. Far from where Aelin was. A feature she was grateful for, given Aedion and Lysandra's… healthy love life. And Lorcan and Elide would slip into the downstairs spare room. The one the couple had claimed during the first year of this tradition. 

Leaving Aelin, in this spare room with a queen-sized bed and the bloody rose, to bed with Rowan. 

Oh, how she loathed her life at this moment. What foul god had she angered to be punished this way. Maybe that same god would derail Rowan’s cab en route. Shucking it into a frozen lake, or something of the like. 

Gently brushing over the towels, Aelin traced the other memories this room held. 

The queen-sized bed hardly fit her and Rowan, that she knew from experience. His height alone ruined the tucked edges of their duvet, which always ended up on his side of the bed by morning. The pillows would have to be mushed together in the middle so that they would not fall off. And Rowan, he at night would roll around. Restless, even in the deepest hours. He would usually end up on top of Aelin, face along her breasts and hair tickling her chin. 

Her fingers moved from the towel to the rose. Plucking it up, she held it at eye level. Studying the contours of the flower, it was beautiful. But Aelin couldn't get past the fact that Lysandra had set this up. And put a godsdamned rose on the towels. 

Aelin might just take the couch. 

The front door opened and closed again, voices rose up from the entry through the open bedroom door. Aelin began unpacking mechanically. The drawers where she set her clothes were the same as she had for the last decade. The dent on the wall by the left corner was also the same. Seems like Aedion never got around to patching it. Aelin chuckles under her breath, the talking-to she and Rowan had received after denting the wall from a vigorous…activity, would never fail to not make her laugh. 

Once the unpacking was complete, only taking a few moments as Aelin wouldn't be staying longer than the night, she took a moment to sit on her side of the bed and breathe. 

This would be disastrous. And she had no way of getting out. Unless she jumped from the window to her left. 

A decade ago, Aelin and Rowan had met through their friends. Their family. Aedion had bridged the gap by dating her best friend, Lysandra. Their quickly evolving and fiery romance meant that there would no longer be Aelin-Elide-Lys days. Now, they included the Ashryver cousin. Lorcan and Rowan had been over Aedion’s lovesick puppy act and had forcibly inserted themselves into the group. As her cousin rarely left Lysandra's side anymore. 

This meant that Aelin and Elide were left to deal with two grumpy college guys. It was like babysitting rocks, who could probably show more emotion than the lot of them. But somehow, somewhere along the line, Elide fell for Lorcan. And when Aelin was forced to watch another friend fall in love, she turned to the only bastard left. 

But Aelin and Rowan had always been…different. Difficult entirely. It started as sex. Each of them too busy with their respective degrees to foster any more of a connection. 

It worked, and it worked well. 

For two years, Aelin was exclusive with Rowan Whitethorn without anyone knowing the depth of their friendship. To her girlfriends, he was the hot guy whom Aelin should really give a chance. To his boys, she was the girl who could obviously help blow off a little steam. 

Time stretched out, and steadiness had replaced the need for romantic connection. Post graduation, Rowan and her barely crossed paths anymore, unless the entire group got together. But there still existed an attachment built during years of intimacy – which Aelin never voiced, not wanting to ruin the entire affair by breaking the principle rule of their arrangement. And due to that principle, Rowan had also never expressed any interest above surface-level desire. 

She had been left in the dark of his feelings for her, just as she had left him in the dark of hers. They were two polar magnets, separated only by the fear of shattering the fragile closeness built from tentative familiarity. Neither were any good at subtly hinting at something. 

When the parallel lines of their lives crossed, ever-diligent Rowan proposed something rather different. Unpredictable.

He offered a relationship. 

Looking back, it was hilariously clinical. It wouldn't surprise her if he had stored papers in her bag with a list of what their relationship could entail. Numbered – or alphabetically ordered. Probably about who did what and when hand-holding was allowed. Such a stickler for the rules.

But Rowan had shocked Aelin that night. When she had said yes, fuck it let's give it a chance, and they had gone back to his apartment, there was a bouquet of fragrant red roses placed on the counter. A box of her favourite chocolates beside it. Things she had mentioned in passing, probably after a hook-up. Maybe during a romantic comedy that they would often watch together. Where she’d point out the little things men can do that show a deeper appreciation. 

They had cracked open a bottle of wine, and talked for hours under the stars and above the rushing traffic. And it was like peeling back a layer, revealing this steadfast and romantic man. The one who had refiled her glass more than once. Used his hand to cover sharp edges when she leaned around after a few too many drinks. Who had carried her to bed, gently unclasping her stiletto heels and massaging the tired soles of her feet. Who had carefully removed the maxi dress she wore, hanging it up to prevent creases. Then, with permission, undressed her further. 

That night hadn't been like before. Aelin wasn't sure she had ever felt that way. Not a blinding, stretching heat or an all-consuming pressure. No, rather a connection. When Rowan had caressed her like a piece of art, she felt revered. Holy. Her skin had tingled with the unfamiliar feeling of adoration. 

Breathless whispers and tight holds had conveyed words that were far too new to speak aloud. 

That night had been the beginning of a long-standing understanding. The two of them weren't open about their connection. Rather, it was a pleasant slice of life, cut out to fit the shape of two lovers who aimed to navigate the crossroads of their future. And for years they existed peacefully in the space they had made for each other. 

Until they couldn't anymore. 

The door creaked open, its hinges never oiled. Lysandra was allergic to a chemical in WD-40. 

A whoosh of breath came from the entrance, and Aelin’s spine felt the all too familiar tingle of the presence of the man she had loved. 

“Aelin,” came the voice, like gravel smoothed by arctic winds. There always existed some sort of unrest under Rowan’s skin. It could be heard in his voice, worn from use. Had she still been his, she would have made him a cup of tea. Extra honey. As he liked. 

Humming out a noise of acknowledgement, Aelin turned slightly. Cheeks starting to heat. “Hello, Rowan.” She said, breathlessly. 

She watched his throat work. He had gotten leaner since she last saw him. His eyes less bright. Cheeks sunken. His unachievable tan had faded. 

He was still the beautiful boy–man, she had always known. Pleasure and pain united, each moment in his presence stole some of her oxygen. She loved him. Loved. 

A shrill squeak this time, and a crafty brunette head popped into the doorway. “Ah! Okay! Guess, how many candies are in this jar!” Lysandra asked the both of them. Their moment shattering and instead opening up to accept another's presence. Lysandra was holding a large mason jar filled with red and white peppermint swirl candies. 

“Uh,” Rowan scratched the back of his neck. “Two hundred?” Lysandra just snorted and then turned to Aelin. 

Aelin studied the jar, fighting to not break out into goosebumps with the feeling of Rowan’s eyes on her. “One hundred…and… forty-three–no! Twenty!”

“Final answer?” Lysandra taunted. 

“Yes.”

“Wrong.” She cackled. Turning away and hightailing it down the hall, laughing like she was possessed. “Come downstairs, you losers!”

Hour Two

Aelin had left with no word to Rowan. She couldn't bear it. The wound still so fresh. Instead, she had sauntered by and shut the door gently on her way out. Missing the pleading look in his eyes as she walked away. 

“Ae!” Elide shouted at her approach. Aelin couldn't help but smile. As awful as the next eleven hours may be, Aelin was grateful she had her best friends by her side. Lysandra's still on thin ice. 

“El! Look at you!” Aelin grabbed a hold of her friend's hand, letting her do a little twirl. The sequined skirt she had on fanned out around her. Reflecting the lights in the room across the walls. “You like our own little mirrorball.”

Elide just let out a soft laugh. Grinning. “Gotta get the party started somehow.” She said. Stepping back she put her arms on Aelin's elbow, holding tight. She made a show of looking around the room, and upon it being clear, Elide looked her right in the eyes. “I'm sorry.” 

“For what,” Aelin asked, perplexed. 

She gave her a pointed look. “I tried to explain to Lys that she wasn't being fair. It's not fair. I offered to get a hotel room for me and Lorcan, but you know how Aedion is about traditions.” She rolled her eyes. “I realize that this isn't… you know. This was not on the healing plan–”

“Maybe, El, just being with my best friends could be healing. Maybe we switch the healing plan around for a little.” She said softly, speaking from a place of honesty. 

Elide’s eyes were misty, and Aelin had to look away. This was a hurt that was deeper than her. 

She took a breath, “Okay. But–no I'm serious. Don't look away. If you need anything, anything at all, I'm here. And we can have a little girl meeting with Lys after we put the boys to bed.” She gave a choked laugh. 

Aelin nodded. An understanding passing through them both. Everyone knew that tension would be high this evening. Aelin herself knew it would be brutal. Facing her ex at Lys’ annual Yulemas Eve Dinner, a tradition shrouded in love and comfort. But she was eternally grateful for Elide – and Lysandra, but maybe not currently. How she found such caring women would never fail to surprise her. 

Elide nodded back, smile and eyes watery. They both let out laughs. This solidarity was something Aelin needed more than she knew. 

“Okay, no more tears.” Aelin sniffed, disconnecting their hand-elbow position to wipe at her waterline. Elide laughed and did the same; laughing at the growing pains. Embracing and squeezing love into each other. 

Hour Three

They had all moved to the living room. It was three o'clock, and the festivities would run until midnight. 

This tradition of theirs started years ago, when Lysandra had been given this apartment by her uncle, conveniently on Yulemas Eve. As a group of broke college students, they had gotten together at noon at Lys’ new abode, flocking towards the offer of free food and drinks. But, they had spent the next twelve hours renovating, each of them finding different tasks every hour to keep the boredom away. At midnight, the promised food had been delivered and all of them had pigged out and slept on the worn carpet of the living room, full of holiday spirit. 

That tradition continued on, and it proved to be extremely helpful in the days when family ties were harder to save than simply forget. When the lonesomeness of the holidays overtook the youths, twelve hours at Lysandra and Aedion's home would never fail to rekindle that merriment. 

And so, for the past decade, everyone would arrive at noon, and each hour would be filled with something new; usually holiday-themed, but it was truly left to Aelin’s best friend’s imagination. 

So at hour three, the group found themselves in the living room, sipping on sparkling wine and snacking on appetizers. This would – apparently – be the hour of catching up. 

“... And so I told him, if he wanted a maid he could hire one. I mean, the man is rolling in money. What fucking scumbag hires someone, and then lets them play servant for the rest of the office, and then drops all his work on them? I mean, truly.” Elide was saying. Aelin was nodding along, enjoying the fresh gossip about her best friend's workplace. “But then he got all on his high horse, all you can't talk to me like that and I'm your superior, you know. Stupid bullshit.”

“So what did you do?” Lysandra asked, thoroughly enthralled by the story. Lorcan let out a hearty chuckle, his arm slung across Elide lovingly. 

“I fucking stole the glass plate from his microwave. Then took all the ink cartridges from his pens. And all the extra toilet paper in his washroom? Not there anymore!” Aelin snorted out her bubbly wine. Lysandra was racked with giggles, and Lorcan was trying not to laugh out loud. Aedion’s cackle joined the fray. And like she always would, Aelin picked up on Rowan's breathy laugh, it ignited flames through her veins. 

“Oh my gods, El. You absolute heathen,” Aedion got out through fits of laughter. Lysandra attempted deep breaths while wiping stray tears from the corners of her eyes. Aelin stared into her drink, suppressing giggles. 

“Well, it's not like he didn't deserve it,” Elide added, smiling smugly. Lorcan just kissed her temple. 

“Certainly not. Where’d you get those ideas though?” Leaning for a piece of cheese, Aelin asked. Grabbing a few pieces and rolling them around in her palm. Lysandra’s giggles were waving in and out, each time Aedion whispered something in her ear, they’d begin again. 

“My gigantic brain.” Elide snorted, pleased at her joke. 

“Nice, El.” Came from Rowan. 

“See, I thought you'd crucify me for that. Mister straight and narrow.” Oh.

Rowan didn't falter, “No, actually, if anything that gives me ideas.” He said. “Sometimes the corporate world can be a little too uptight.” He glanced at Aelin. 

Aedion laughed again. “Rich! That’s rich coming from you.” He taunted.

Rowan leaned into the jest. “Maybe I want to break free.”

“Uptight life not suiting you anymore, Boyo?” Came from Lorcan. 

“Maybe.” Rowan shrugged. “Maybe life is worth a little more than corporate deviances.” He pulled at the seams of his shirt. Fingers twirling the stem of his sparkling wine. 

Aelin didn't think anyone else had noticed the stall in the conversation. The way the bright energy slowed and sputtered. Pausing momentarily and applying enough pressure to Aelin’s soul that she felt winded. But everyone moved on, Rowan included. Laughing and sharing stories as they might. 

The conversation didn't end, and Aelin’s buried sorrow didn't dissipate. But she would keep breathing. Keep moving forward, exchanging banter all in the hopes of drawing out the sound of her heart breaking slowly. 

“By the way, Lys, how many candies were in the jar?”

“None. It was the paper decoration that it came with from the store.”

Hour Four

It was cocktail hour. 

This was Aelin’s favourite tradition. One she actually prepared for. And it consisted of each of them having to make a holiday-themed cocktail, completely customized. There could be no research during the competition – before was a grey area Aelin loved to exploit – and they each had ten minutes. 

The order would follow; Lorcan, Lysandra, Elide, Aedion, Rowan, Aelin. And so, a silver tray had been placed in the middle of the table, and six yellowy drinks in champagne flutes sat. The colour was truly horrifying. 

“So, explain.” Lysadra motioned to start. 

“Right,” Lorcan grabbed a flute, examining it carefully. Like he didn't even know what was in it himself. “So, this…drink–”

“Sound a little more enthusiastic babe, or I'll be really worried about what you made.” Elide interrupted. 

“I'm already worried,” Rowan whispered to Aedion, face set in a perplexed grimace. 

“Hush, you goons.” He waved at the other guys. They broke apart laughing. “In here there is…Gin, uh, some Limoncello and creme de Banane. And I call it the…uh, I don't know. Yellow shot?”

“...of death,” Aelin whispered to Lysandra. Who nodded solemnly. Elide looked disgusted at her fiance’s creation, but schooled it into a look of pride when he turned to her. The moment he looked away, she made a fake gagging motion to Aelin and Lysandra. 

“Sounds wonderful, my dear Lorcan. Now, my great sir, would you please bring me my beverage.” Aedion declared, hands aiming to move in a dignified manner. He looked like he was trying to swat away flies. 

“No.”

“It was worth a shot,” He sighed, reaching for a drink. 

Aelin grabbed a flute, “Limoncello and Gin, what the hell were you aiming for here Lorcan?” She delicately sniffed at the drink. Oh god.

Plopping himself nearly onto Elide, who let out a squeak, he just shrugged. Grabbing his flute, he threw it back in one fluid motion. Everyone paused, waiting for the reaction. He swallowed, looked around, and then quickly turned away to gag and cough. 

Laughter erupted. 

Once everyone had a glass, clinking them together in cheers, and shot it down like Lorcan. He watched from on the couch, eyes a little watery. There was a pause as everyone swished the drink around in their mouth, tasting the flavour. 

It was fucking godsawful. Aelin had never tasted anything so evil. The hint of banana flavour nearly had her spitting the drink back into the glass, and the way the Gin nearly curdled it was almost worse. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she tried to swallow. Forcing the atrocity that was Lorcan’s drink down. Catching Elide’s eye, as the woman got up and ran for the washroom. Lysandra was the only one who seemed unbothered. 

“Fuck!” Aedion shouted when he could speak again. “Holy gods man, I have never put anything worse into my mouth. Ever.” 

“And that's saying somethin',” Rowan choked out. Also beyond bothered by Lorcan’s monstrosity. 

“You evil, evil man,” Aelin added. A shudder racking her body.

-

The cocktail hour carried on. Lysandra had made a mojito with cinnamon rather than mint, and it was not nearly as bad as Lorcan’s. Elide had done a ‘Sunrise Suprise’, which was simply tequila and orange juice. The ability to make a good cocktail skipped both Elide and Lorcan. Aedion had wanted to send everyone to their death, combining four different whiskeys and a melted spoonful of ice cream. It hadn't been as bad as expected, but there were much better choices out there. Rowan had mixed pickle juice and vodka, to create a dill martini. Interestingly enough, that had been the most palatable drink of the night. 

When Aelin’s turn came around, she began to pull out the individual ingredients. Lining them up in the order in which she would mix. Her focus on the drinks made her unaware that another body was present in the kitchen. Until they spoke up. 

“You look well,” Rowan said from the opposite end of the room, his body leaning up against the cabinets. Jumping at the sudden sound of his voice, her head snapped up. There he was, cataloguing her every move, a familiar feeling; his eyes on her. 

Startled, she stared at him. And kept staring at him, not realizing she had been ogling him for a few moments. She took in the lines of his body, the way his dress pants hugged his legs. The black leather belt, cinching in his waist. The sweater – cashmere, most likely – was elegantly draped over his upper body. The hard planes of his stomach were slightly in sight as the soft material moulded to his form. Everything about Rowan meant something. And looking at him only brought back bitter-sweet memories. Her gaze snapped away when he gave a light noise of acknowledgement. 

Blushing and caught, Aelin turned back to the drinks, cracking open the bottle of vodka she had slipped mint candies in a few weeks ago. She planned to let the flavours permeate the liquor and add a nice flair to her drinks. She felt Rowan’s inquisitive eyes on her every move. 

“Thank you, Rowan.” Acknowledging him, she hoped he would just walk away. She wasn't strong enough to just stand here and allow him to be there. To feel the gaping divide between their beings. 

Silence. 

“I– Look, I need to talk to you Aelin,” He approached from the other side of the room, slipping around the counter where she was. “I know it’s not the best–”

“Rowan.” A firm command, all blushed drained. She could be strong. She could. She was back to looking at him again. Green eyes, full lips, strong jaw. The silver strands that ghosted his brow. Gods she hated how looking at him hurt her so deeply. His smile, and laughter, earlier had been the knife to the gut. His presence here now? A twisting. 

“No, Aelin. I'm serious.”

“I am too.” 

“Wait.” He breathed. Gentler this time. His hand stretched out, muscle memory. She knew it would land at the curve of her waist, how the weight of it would ground her. The warmth would slip under the fabric of her dress, warming her bones. 

He retracted it before it got close enough, burning the neuron pathway that made the movement instinctual. 

She steadied herself, leaning towards him slightly, but not enough to communicate any more interest in where this was going. “Not now, Rowan. Not now. You had your chance, let me be.” 

“What chance? The fucking run-in at a cafe? That was not a ‘chance’ Aelin.” He snapped. Letting his frustration run into his tone. She hated him when he was like this. Not frustrated, no she understood that. But…seeking. She knew what he wanted, and she knew it would break her down quicker than she could turn away. Her sanity rested on the finalization of this conversation. 

Smiling politely, in a way she knew brought more frustration, she turned away and began preparing the drink. 

“Not now,” She whispered. More to herself, a silent prayer of resistance. She heard more than saw Rowan turn to walk away, over the entire conversation entirely. He missed the tear that raced down her cheek, or the hitch in her breath when the door swung close. 

-

“Peppermint Cocktails!” Aelin announced, waltzing into the room with her usual charm, all emotions wiped. She avoided Rowan’s look like the plague. Offering a drink to each friend, she was pleased to hear that her concoction was the best of the night – an unsurprising win – and the group sat around talking still. The light buzz from all the alcohol had Aelin feeling looser. The unease from moments ago slipped away like sand between her fingers. 

“I saw Rowan walk into the kitchen,” Elide whispered into her ear. Everyone else had been looking at a picture on Lorcan's phone. 

“Mhm.” 

“Want to talk about it?” 

“No.”

Hour Five

Rowan likes the cold. 

He liked it in a way many others didn't. He liked the way it nipped at his body slowly in the beginning, a feeling that was urgently chased away by shivers. He liked it when it froze deeper. When it slowly crawled into the heat of his body, dousing it and cutting off feeling. He liked the stiffness. The slowed movement as the cold reached his core, seizing feeling. It isolated him in a way many things did not. 

Sitting on the front porch of Lysandra’s apartment, he embraced the cold. 

Everyone had just finished up with a game of cards, and Aedion had rushed out, forgetting some ingredients for dinner. He had excused himself, just need a moment, and walked all of three steps before stopping. Allowing his body to freeze, his cashmere sweater not saving much heat. 

As he lost feeling of some body parts, he embraced the thoughts rushing through his mind, all seemingly racing in circles around the fiery blonde. The one whose embers never burnt out, but now seemed to be slowly dying. The consistent crackle and warmth of her presence, all leaking away in a manner he knew he was responsible for. 

The cold he had embraced wholeheartedly was killing his fireheart. 

His thoughts spun like the twirling snowflakes as they fell to the ground. Circling gently, melting away. But all things seemed to lead him back to his bedroom. To the moment this morning, before he had slipped away into the cab to make it here tonight. His thoughts brought him to the second drawer in his nightstand, underneath a notepad and tissues. In an embroidered box, sat a diamond ring, inlaid into a gold band that had sweeping leaf designs along its curves. Two emeralds set into the inside, to rub against one's finger. 

All thoughts seemed to lead him back to Aelin

Hour Six, Hour Seven, Hour Eight

“Can you pass me the salt?” Lysandra called from Aelin's right. She was before the stove, stirring the gravy and watching the vegetables as they cooked in the pan. 

Handing her the salt, Aelin brushed by her to grab some butter from the fridge. Needing it for the bread that would be coming out of the oven soon, steaming hot. 

They worked in a comfortable silence, only waiting for Aedion to return with some forgotten ingredients. Lorcan, Elide, and Rowan were all in the living room, having not been drawn for cooking duty this year. A method that was quickly taken up once the group realized six people in the kitchen was less of a pleasant experience. Top many bossy chefs. 

Post-cocktail hour, tipsy cards had commenced. And the many, many, shots of straight liquor had reached Aelin by that time. She was feeling much better, her heart no longer aching and screaming at her mind to just look at the man across from her. Rather, she had enthusiastically played cards. Letting the feeling of her family around her and the laughter that kept escaping cocoon her. Unfortunately, that joy had meant that Lorcan had swept everyone off their asses, wiping the board clean and winning the one hundred and twenty dollars put into the pot. That had sobered her up pretty quickly, arguing that he had cheated. He had just smirked. 

Then when Aedion rushed out, Aelin caught sight of Rowan walking out the front door too. She had been standing at the other end of the hallway, out of his view. She had watched his expression fall as soon as he crossed the threshold. It was like night and day, the crinkle around his eyes and the brightness of his smile, wiped away. He just stepped out, closing the door softly behind him. 

She had waited a moment, arguing mentally if she should go after him, until Lysandra had called, telling Aelin she needed her help. 

She wasn't ready to face him alone.

“Aelin,” A soft hand was at Aelin's wrist, pausing her chopping of vegetables. She glanced up, shocked out of her reverie. Lysandra was staring at her, looking deeply into her, her brows pulled together in confusion. She must've been calling me for a minute. When it seemed Lysandra had the other woman’s attention, she added softly, “I couldn't not invite one of you.” 

Dropping the knife, “Lys.” Aelin pleaded, not wanting to have this conversation. It felt like the entire night had been her running in circles around her and Rowan. Her and Rowan. Rowan and I. “Seriously, I can't do more of this.” 

Lysandra paid no mind to Aelin’s plea, pushing forward. “Listen. I love you deeply, very very deeply. Sometimes I wonder why,” at that, Aelin cracked a mirthful smile. “But I see the way you two look at each other. And while I know it's not my business, I think this is something you two seriously need to talk out.” She said solemnly. 

This was the point she'd been dancing around for such a long time. 

Pushing the cutting board away from her, Aelin slumped into her arms, leaning against the counter. 

“Did I make a mistake? Breaking up with him?” Like a breath after being underwater, Aelin let it out, asking the question that had rattled in the back of her mind for months. Breathing in a little deeper when some new space opened up because of it. 

“I have my own opinions, but whether or not you made a mistake is up to you.” Lysandra was soothingly rubbing her back. 

“Some days it feels like the biggest fucking mistake I've ever made, Lys. Some days it hurts so much I can't even get out of bed.” 

She hummed, letting Aelin speak. 

“I just– it felt right at the time. But it doesn't feel right now. How is that fair? How could I have made a decision like that? What would have happened if I stayed?”

“You wouldn't have done well, Ae. We all saw what was happening.”

“But you can't know that.” She whispered out. 

“I can, and I did. Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is let go. And that's what you did, my love. Maybe something could have gotten better, but maybe not.” Lysandra took a deep breath. “I'm proud of you regardless, that's not an easy choice to make.”

“And it clearly wasn't the fucking right one.” 

Lysandra's hand stopped, she grabbed onto Aelin's shoulder, squeezing firmly. 

“You can say that all you want, Aelin, but ultimately it was the right choice for you at the time. You blossomed. But now? Maybe it's different. And maybe every time I see you two lovesick fools in the same room, I am simultaneously sick and overjoyed. I see his face when he looks at you Ae, like you hung the stars.”

“What's this? Therapy hour?” A loud voice broke apart their moment, jerking both women out of their moment. It was Aedion with the groceries. He was smiling widely, but it fell when he took in the expression of the other women. “Oh. Shit, sorry.”

Aelin just groaned. “And look at me now, ruining the festivities.” Watching Aedion's smile drop was just a reminder of the emotional burden she forgot to check at the door. Bringing that cloud of gloom inside. It was not fair to everyone else, they didn't deserve to bear witness to the sorrow leaking from her. 

“You're not ruining anything, Aelin. Aedion, stop being an idiot.” Lysandra amended. 

Aedion, clearly understanding the situation now, came over to drop the groceries on the counter and pull his cousin into a tight hug. “Lys is right. You have nothing to be sorry for. We all love you lots and want to see you happy, and if drinking shitty cocktails and spilling your gossip helps you feel better, I'll gladly do it alongside you.” He kissed her temple. 

Aelin wanted to break down. This was not how she expected to spend this evening. Granted, she has predicted being in the same vicinity as Rowan would test her. Bring those choked feelings up to the surface. It would hurt just as it had when they split, as there was truly no way to prepare for seeing him again after months of no contact. Months of isolation and heartache. Months without the half that made her whole. 

“Lys, baby, is the gravy supposed to bubble like that?”

“Shit!” Exclaiming, Lysandra rushed away from Aelin's side to check on her portion of dinner. Leaving Aelin, still bent over the counter, staring at the herbs she’d have to chop to sprinkle over the potatoes. 

She felt a gentle shoulder push against her side, and then her cousin was beside her, close enough she could feel the warmth radiating off his huge form. “Your parents would be so proud of you, Ae. No matter what. And I think you should do what you feel is best. Even if that's walking away. I love you, we love you.” Mumbling into her ears, lower than anyone else could hear. Aelin nodded, brushing the moisture away from her face. 

“I love you too, Aedion.”

-

“Cheers to this year!”

Glasses chimed as they clinked together, bubbly wine spilling over, onto the feast laid up on the table. Decadent smells wafted up, making Aelin's stomach rumble. She was ready to dig into the spread, and let the food smother the churning anxiety in her stomach. 

She was seated next to Elide, and Aedion on her other side. Everyone else was spread around the round table – Lysandra hated the idea of a square table. Not wanting any fighting over the head of it. 

Aelin had spoken to Lysandra and Aedion for a few minutes more, opening up a little about how she had been feeling. It took some pushing, given her displeasure at possibly ruining everyone's evening with her issues, but the couple had assured her that it wasn't possible. Highly doubtful of that. But it had been…cathartic, to really speak about how she had felt. How she was dealing with her wounded heart. It meant more than Aelin would realize at the moment, for the two of them to give her a little perspective. 

Then, once the timer for the roast had gone off, and the main part of dinner had been pulled out of the oven, it was dressed up in the herbs Aelin had finally finished chopping – after getting a few more hugs in from both Lys and Aedion. Lys and her had started dishing up the plates and Aedion set off to cut some of the roast. Lorcan and Rowan had joined to set the table. And Elide had popped some bottles of prosecco, pouring glasses for everyone. 

Seated now, in front of a plate of aromatic food, a balm for the soul, she felt the urge to voice her appreciation. “So,” she started, drawing attention from everyone, especially Rowan. “I- I wanted to say thank you. To all of you. I think… that because of the lives we live today, I really don't have the opportunity to look at all of you and say that. To be able to sit around with each of you means more than anything, and I can't imagine being anywhere else right now. It wouldn't feel right.” 

“Cheers to that,” Lorcan added, a slight smile aimed in Aelin’s direction. If that wasn't the definition of a Yulemas miracle, she didn't know what else could be.

Glancing around the table, the circle of the most important people in her life, her eyes stalled upon Rowan. She meant what she said, meant every piece of it. She loved all of them. Grumpy Lorcan, meddling Lysandra. But gods, she loved Rowan, and she lied to herself every day when he was no longer a warm presence next to her. His side of the bed uncharacteristically cold. The feeling of it cooling her. 

She hadn't noticed the change in the environment, her focus being locked on Rowan. Their eyes connected, as if reading each other's minds. A choked wheezing noise almost drew her away, but she couldn't. Not when she was swimming in him, not when–

SLAM

“Elide!” A shrill scream. Ripping Aelin away, she was met with a panicked Lysandra, and a horrified Lorcan. 

Elide was facedown on the table, and amid chaos, Aelin noticed her chest was not rising and falling as it should. Shouts ensued, voices yelling about get her up and call an ambulance. What had happened in the seconds Aelin wasn't present. How could this have happened that quickly? What was happening! 

“She can't breathe!”

“Start CPR. Now!”

“Has someone called an ambulance?” 

What is going on!

Lorcan had gently laid Elide on the floor. He had his finger down her throat. His face was panicked, but he was hiding it well, focusing on Elide. Chairs were shoved back, and Lysandra was rushing away, Aedion was on the phone, Rowan was getting on his knees by Elide. They were saying something to each other. Rowan pushed Lorcan away. Lorcan fought back before he realized what was happening. Rowan placed his hands by Elide’s middle, his fingers laced together. She looked so frail there, on the floor. 

Rowan started pushing down, one two three four. One two three four. Onetwothreefouronetwothreefour– What is happening!

Aelin was frozen. Frozen in fear, in disbelief, in shock. How. That's all that was going through her mind. How. It had been going so well, how could one moment lead to this? To Elide, down on the floor, not breathing as her fiance shouted panic commands at Rowan. Equally freaked out. To Aedion, shouting instructions from paramedics. Two minutes away! To Lysandra, distraught, not knowing what to do. To Aelin, standing as her best friend couldn't breathe. 

Lorcan leaned down, his ear by Elide's mouth. His hand on her neck, searching. Rowan paused, breathing heavily. 

Aelin thought she knew what it was to feel her heartbreak, to feel it shatter. But she had never felt it as it fell. Dropped straight out of her chest when Lorcan looked up, eyes wide as saucers, pupils fully dilated. As he looked at Rowan and a lone tear slipped from his eye, dropping down, down, down. Down to where Elide was not breathing. 

Hour …

Seated in the emergency ward of the local hospital, Aelin listened to a dull Lorcan list off what had happened. She had choked. She had something lodged in her throat for so long that she passed out. It got lodged deeper. She has two broken ribs. It's not your fault Rowan. You saved her life. She had an endoscopic surgery. To remove the food. She’ll need to stay for the night. Observation. 

Struck by disbelief, Aelin couldn't do anything more than trace the lines on the floor. Her hands shook, a later symptom of the shock that had paralyzed Aelin in the moment of action. As Elide was carried out to the ambulance –still not breathing – she had only stood there. Rooted to place. Snapping out of it only when Rowan said he was going to follow them to the hospital. Aelin hadn't even said anything, snapping out of her state and running to the door to grab her boots and jump into whatever car Rowan would be taking. 

Only she and Rowan were at the hospital, alongside Lorcan. Aedion had made the executive decision for Lys and him to stay back. Lys had been hysterical, shouting, but shaking just as Aelin was now. She hadn't thought of them once, only what might happen to Elide. To her lovely Elide. 

“But she’ll be okay?” Rowan whispered. Agony weaved into his question. He felt guilty, this Aelin knew. Even if he had saved a life, he felt guilty he had hurt someone. She could scream. 

Aelin didn't hear an answer, assuming that Lorcan had nodded when Rowan let out a great sigh. Cut short by the sob that burst out. Lorcan was there in an instant, wrapping his brother up in a tight hug. She palmed her thighs, squeezing so tightly. 

Eventually, Lorcan released Rowan. The both of them were slightly breathless. Eyes red and sad. Lorcan said he was going to check on Elide, and Rowan sat down next to her. For a few quiet moments, no words were exchanged. A too-real grief hung heavy in the air. They almost lost someone, and now here they were, waiting for Elide to be here again. Because she almost wasn't. She was so close to not being here anymore. 

Standing up abruptly, “I- I have to go.” Aelin walked off, not waiting for an answer from Rowan. She was walking quickly through the halls, adrenaline coursing through her so quickly she could barely breathe. And then her breath was coming too quickly. And then she was running, running for the exit. And in her haste, she didn't hear the other feet running after her. 

All she could hear was her breath. Elide’s lack of. 

She slammed through the front doors, flat-out sprinting now. She had no idea where to go, and it was snowing hard. The wind whipped at her dress-clad form – she hadn't grabbed her jacket. But she kept running. Tripping up on ice, pelted by the rising blizzard. She had no idea where she was, but the blood rushing in her ears, and her hyperventilating had her in a dizzying state. 

“AELIN!” A voice roared. She couldn't tell where the sound was coming from, completely surrounded by falling snow, as it blocked out the light. Spinning wildly, she could feel the tears as they rushed down her face, freezing on her cheeks. 

She was panting, barely in control, when Rowan came from her side, nearly slamming into her and knocking them both over. He was breathing heavily too. His hair was out of place and his eyes were wild. 

“What were you thinking!” He yelled, grabbing onto her. “You can't fucking run like that! Aelin! What the fuck!” His tone kept increasing. His chest rose and fell rapidly. Unlike Elide. No movement, no breaths. No breaths, no breath, not breathi- 

“Aelin! AELIN! Look at me!” 

Her eyes were wild, nails pressing into Rowan’s biceps as she held onto him for dear life. Where was she, where was she, wherewasshe…

A chilled hand grabbed her chin, pulling her – not roughly – to look into Rowan’s frantic gaze. Her breathing wasn't slowing, and Rowan’s gaze was unbreakable. He was whispering something, his lips moving. Aelin watched as they moved, shifting up, down. The corners of his mouth pinching. Another hand came up, and her face was now being cradled between Rowan’s large hands. And she saw his lips still moving, and then the crease in his brow, the worry dancing in his eyes. And then she was pressed against his warm chest. 

Her head was against his heart. The thump-thump a grounding. She felt her breathing start to ease, felt arms tighten around her. Felt as she leaned further into Rowan. The tears falling faster now, but her breaths slowing enough that her brain could finally catch up. To where she was. Where she was, here in Rowan’s arms. In Rowan’s ar–

“No!’ She shouted shoving away from him, breaking the cage that was his grasp. “No! No, no, no!” 

Rowan just let his arms drop, hanging by his sides. His expression was one of worry, and confusion. Frustration and dismay. “What?” He said. His voice carried through the snowstorm. 

“Dont– Dont do that!” Aelin sobbed out, hands going to her hair. Pulling at the roots and turning around aimlessly. 

“Do what.” His hands clenched. His worry wiped away, a vexed expression appearing instead. 

“Do that! Care for me! Stop!” She kept shouting, the snow thoroughly soaking her now. The chill seeping into her bones.

“Care for you? What?” He shouted back. “What the fuck do you mean Aelin!”

“I mean, don't come r-rushing after me! Don't fucking p-pretend you care!” 

“Pretend I care?!” He took a step forward, she took one back. An undecipherable look crossed his face, before it was set back into a frown. His shoulders lined with tension, and fists opening and closing around nothing. “Aelin, what do you mean?”

“You don't care. S-so don't c-come running after m-me like you do!” The chills were shaking her body now, and she wrapped her arms around herself as tightly as possible, trying to keep in body heat. The storm was getting worse. Rowan’s image was getting blurrier, maybe it was her tears, still flowing freely. Along with her nose. 

“What… Aelin– I,” His hand went to his hair, raking through the soaked strands before pulling. “I chased after you because you fucking ran away hyperventilating! Out of a hospital! Into a fucking blizzard! What do you think I’d do? Sit there like an idiot and let you freeze to death or get hit by a car?!” 

“It doesn-”

“Yes it does! Yes, it fucking does!”

“Why!” She screamed, shaking and watching as Rowan stepped forward. This time she didn't step back. 

“Aelin.” He said, this time it was more of a command, a telling. “Are you asking me why I’d come for you?”

She considered it for a second, then nodded. 

A moment passed before Rowan's face morphed into one of genuine pain. 

“Because I would always fucking follow you! And I would always make sure you are okay, no matter what.” He snapped. “And I'm sorry I can't turn my feelings off as easily as you, but watching you walk away, no matter what, it fucking kills me!” 

There was a pause as the words sunk in, as Rowan’s chest rose and fell with laboured breaths, as his eyes traced her face for any hint – of anything. 

“You what?” Aelin squeaked out. Not knowing if the question was swallowed up by the storm until Rowan took a tentative step forward. Then another, then they were just a few breaths apart. 

“I would always follow you, Aelin,” He whispered, face drawn in sorrow. Her cheeks hurt from the frozen tears, but they warmed at his confession. “Because… because I still love you. Still so, so much. Ae, it hurts.” 

“What,” She said, more to herself. But Rowan's face crumpled, and she felt the fall directly in her heart. 

“Aelin,” He whispered, reaching for her hand that was tucked under her exposed bicep. Slowly freezing. She let him grab the hand, warming it between his palms, and then pulling her forward to place it on his heart. “I have missed you every day, and I- I couldn't do anything about it, ‘cause I fucked it up in the first place. I made you have to leave. And so I watched you walk away. I let you,” He took a deep breath. “I never wanted that to happen. Ever. But I did, and… gods Aelin, I’ve never regretted something more in my life.”

She just looked up at him. Not really believing the words she was hearing, because how could this be possible? 

“Rowan…” Her lips were turning blue, and she could barely feel her legs. She was going to freeze out here, in the midst of a blizzard, as she heard her ex-boyfriend tell her how he messed up, how he missed her. 

A tear fell on his face, and she watched it trail down. “I love you, Fireheart. I still love you. I am in love with you.” He shook his head, his hair had froze. “I'm sorry.”

“Rowan, I t-thought you wanted m-me gone. I thought it w-wasnt working.” Her teeth were clacking together so hard, she could barely get the words out. That and the weird feeling erupting from inside her. 

“I never wanted you gone, Ae. I was just so… I didn't realize what I had– what we had.” 

“And now y-you do?” She mumbled, her feelings dancing on the edge of a knife. 

His pine-green eyes scanned her face so quickly, moving over every feature. As if he was re-memorizing them all. She watched his throat work.

“Ae… I don’t know how to– I,” He closed his eyes. 

Aelin took in her hand on his chest, the tear tracks along his beautiful face. The soaked sweater. Her frozen body, and she took a chance, stepping forward, pressing up. 

Rowan must have sensed a change, because his eyes snapped open, searching, before finding Aelin closer than she had been in months. 

“Rowan…” She breathed, “I love you so godsdamned much.” She slung her arms around his neck, and pressed a cold kiss onto his stunned lips. He didn't react for a second, and she almost darted away, before she was pulled back. 

Her lips crashed back into Rowan, into a fiery and all-consuming kiss that warmed her from head to toe. Rowan's hands moved all over, making purchase along her frozen body. Never settling, like he didn't realize she was real. 

There, in the middle of a raging blizzard, Aelin got back what she had been searching for. Her other half. The man who was only everything to her, all along, and forever. 

-

Once Rowan had realized that Aelin might actually contract hypothermia, he had rushed her back to the hospital, where she was treated for minor frostbite, and then released soon after. The pair had visited a sleeping Elide and tired Lorcan, before heading back to the house to update Lysandra and Aedion. Once they had gotten past them, Rowan had gone up to their room to run a bath for Aelin. 

Lysandra had told Aelin she could take Lorcan and Elide’s room – given that they wouldn't be home that night – and when she had objected, saying she preferred her room, Aedion and Lysandra had looked at each other questioningly. But they let her go without a fuss, Lysandra already planning to get this information out of the woman. 

Aelin had paid them no heed, moving lethargically upstairs, where she found Rowan sprinkling some of the petals from the rose into the bath. 

She had kissed him, and then gotten distracted kissing him, before timidly inviting him into the bath as well. He agreed, and the two of them spent a gentle moment together, not initiating anything further, but Aelin sunk into the feeling of Rowan, of having him back in her life, in her heart. 

When they had both pruned up, Rowan hopped out and brought the towels over, drying the both of them off. Running on the dregs of her earlier adrenaline rush, Aelin leaned heavily into Rowan as he got her ready for bed. The soft moment bringing her back to where she felt safe, where she knew she belonged. And when Rowan picked her up bridal style, gently laying her on her side of the bed, tucking her in and then crawling in behind her, she knew she was home. 

“I love you, Rowan.”

“I love you, Aelin.”

Hours Later

That morning, when they went as a group to visit Elide and Lorcan in the hospital, carrying some gingerbread cookies, flowers and a present for Elide, they found the couple asleep together in bed. Lorcan's large body curled protectively around Elide, his great arms placed with a delicateness reserved only for the woman he loved. They had tried to backtrack – let them sleep – only for Elide to snap at them. Telling them to get their asses back in the room because she wants to spend Yulemas morning with her family. 

Aelin could have cried happy tears, and she had. Rushing forward to hug Elide. Careful of her ribs, and the giant man behind her. She had cried into her arms. Mumbling incoherent words into the woman's skin. And soon she was joined by Lysandra, who was equally as teary. Lorcan had mumbled something about wanting to spend the morning with his fiance and had slipped off the bed with a groan, headed elsewhere. His spot was quickly replaced by the two other women. All of them snuggling up together. Rowan had snapped a quick photo. 

Aedion and Rowan pulled up chairs, and Rowan grabbed an extra for Lorcan when he returned. Chattering happily, Elide was in the center of her family. And even if she had been in pain, had almost died, she was forgetting about it instantly with their arrival. And she sat with them for the entire morning, basking in the love so freely available. 

And when it was time for them to leave, she didn't miss the way Rowan folded his arms around Aelin, and the beaming smile she reserved for him. The way their hands snaked together when they thought no one was looking. And the kiss Rowan dropped onto Aelin's brow as they walked off, away. Intertwined again.

Taglist: @backtobl4ck // @goddess-aelin

Thank you for reading!! Happy holidays to you all :))))

[jealousjersey]

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ under the mistletoe with mike ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

contains: smut(obvi), p in v (protected), afab fem reader, a little fluff, she/her pronouns used, pet names, protected creampie

authors note: merry christmas! this was v much rushed, ignore spelling and grammar mistakes pls!

mike loves christmas day. the presents, the happiness, the warmth of sitting around a fire, but most importantly; you in that tight little santa suit.

“mike, come here i need help wrapping gifts for abby!” you yell, knowing when he gets there you’ll be fucked out. mike comes to the room with a roll of wrapping paper and tape, only to see you in the little santa onesie you picked up from the mall a couple days ago. as he walks into the room. mike drew his lower lip between his teeth and you could swear you heard him moan. this drives you crazy. how needy he is for you just makes you drip.

mike takes a second and carefully drops the wrapping paper and tape, trying not to loose his mind over how sexy you looked in your outfit. “do you like it?” you giggle watching his eyes fill with lust. “you know i do, naughty girl” he says as he practically flies onto the bed, gripping your wrist as you get up to lock the door, (and to grab condoms). “but mike, what about abby?” you look back at him, as he forgot, its christmas day, there’s no way to get privacy today. “don’t worry baby, she’s still in her room drawing with her new art kit. we got about 2 hours before she gets bored of it” he says, you trust him, grabbing the condoms and watching him struggling to put it on right. “don’t laugh at me! these are hard” he says with a insincere sad look. “i can see what else is hard.” you giggle at him

about 2 minutes later you’re on his bed and he’s in you, pumping inside you in missionary. the wet sound of his cock entering and exiting your pussy makes you go over the edge. “fuckk babygirl you’re so wet for my cock, you knew i needed this badly huh?” he grunts with every pulse he pumps into you. despite the way he drools onto your stomach, this was the best christmas you’ve ever had. with your loving boyfriend inside you.

you look up and see him sweating as he removes his hand from under your pillow to wipe it away from his forehead, he quickly returns to the position after pinching your chin with his calloused fingers, “you’re so pretty. my beautiful girl” he looks in your eyes and smiles.

“fuc-ck mike baby im gonna-” you say, your eyes rolling back in your head. “go ahead baby. cum for me pretty girl” he says as he rides out your orgasm, cumming inside and with you.

“merry fuckin christmas baby” he says to you

[outhaulscheme]

Hey! If you are willing, could you do prompt 30? Love your blog by the way, your writing is awesome :)

30. Confiding in them

Rubenstein’s is busy the night before Christmas Eve, but not unbearably so. When Jacob invited him, Gregory had expected some of their other friends to tag along, but when he enters the bar, he sees that Jacob is sitting alone at a table, staring down into a glass of water.

Jacob lights up when he spots him, of course. He rushes to get them both drinks and then spends the better part of an hour telling Gregory about the movies he’s watched recently (Everything Everywhere All at Once, Asteroid City, Sorry to Bother You).

“It’s just such a biting satirical commentary on late-stage capitalism,” Jacob says. He takes a long, long drag of his beer, and there’s something in his eyes that makes Gregory suspect that Jacob isn’t really his normal self today but is desperately pretending to be.

“Is there…” Gregory clears his throat, feeling uncomfortable. “Is there something on your mind, Jake?”

“I, ah, well,” Jacob hedges. For a moment, Gregory thinks that Jacob will try to dodge the question, maybe make a clumsy segue into discussing the latest episode of This American Life. Then Jacob sighs, looking more exhausted than Gregory’s ever seen him. “The holidays are not a good time for me,” Jacob says quietly.

Gregory waits for him to continue. When he doesn’t, Gregory says, “Me neither, not since my mom passed.” An offering.

Jacob’s eyes flicker up towards him. He nods, once, then returns his gaze to the wooden surface of the table, tracing patterns in the grain with his finger. “I think it was the pressure to keep up appearances that really got to them,” he says. “My parents. Anyway, I blocked their phone numbers a few years back. They don’t ask me for anything.”

“I’m sorry,” Gregory says, for lack of anything else to say.

Jacob shrugs ruefully. “It is how it is. Uh, sorry about your mom. And sorry for making you come here. I know I’m not the best company right now.”

“She died over twenty years ago, so. Yeah. Also, you didn’t ‘make’ me do anything,” Gregory murmurs. Thank you for sharing this part of your life with me, he thinks, but doesn’t say. When I met you, I never expected we would become this close. And another thought, so inane it surprises him: I like the way you analyze Wes Anderson.

Wordlessly, Jacob holds out his drink, and Gregory clinks it with his own.

“Merry almost-Christmas Eve,” Gregory says.

“Merry the twenty-third of December,” Jacob replies.

They drink, and Jacob does end up commenting on the most recent episode of This American Life. When he’s finished extolling the virtues of Ira Glass, Gregory tells him about the propagation process of succulent plants. How, when a leaf is removed from a larger plant, it will grow roots of its own. “The leaf forms what’s called a callus first,” Gregory explains. “It looks like a dry knot. You place it in soil and it grows another plant.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better with a plant metaphor?” Jacob asks.

“Maybe,” Gregory says. Something catches in his throat when Jacob smiles at him. Jacob’s face is flushed from alcohol, and under the warm lights of the bar, he looks beautiful. Gregory imagines a different version of himself, someone more confident, more sure. Someone with the courage to slide an arm around Jacob’s shoulders and ask him out to dinner.

It’s a pleasant thought, and it remains a pleasant thought while the evening wraps up and Gregory pays for Jacob’s Uber. Next time, Gregory thinks, as Jacob hugs him farewell. I’ll tell him next time, for sure.

[lem0nshark-writes]

"Winter Coat"

Lindir x Male Reader

Type: fluff

Word count: 1890

Warnings: fluff, reader's an elf, some comedy, reader's in Rivendell's patrol guard, reader and Lindir are courting, reader and Lindir being cute boyfriends, reader's bit clumsy

Summary: something fluffy with the best boi

A/N: Lately been reading a lot of @/aeonianarchives (on tumblr) x reader fics and they inspired me writing this little fic hehe do check their fics out they are really good! 👀 anyways I was gonna post this for Christmas but yeah XD anyways for New Years it is XD Also I wish all those who celebrate a Merry Christmas and all you a Happy New Year! 💕💕

Translations: meleth nin - my love

"Oh meleth nin what has happened to you?" you let out surprised, walking swiftly towards Lindir who had just entered the front door of your small home, his winter great robe ripped from his lower back almost to his knees, one side of his robe underneath drenched in a cold wet smear of frost and rainwater, stressed out expression on his face.

"I was just enjoying some fresh morning air and the beautiful winter view outside and as I was heading back I slipped on the frozen patch on the floor... and ripped my robes in the process too..." he looked so visibly embarrassed with his heated up red cheeks and ears.

"Oh, my darling-", you moved your hands from where they stood holding his shoulders and hugged him tightly.

"How embarrassing..." he quietly let out into your shoulder, arms weakly hugging back.

"Oh it is alright it can happen to anyone," you comforted him, knowing his racing mind would see it as such a big deal when it really wasn't, "Don't you remember last year when I was late for my patrol and was rushing to meet up with Erestor and my foot slipped and I slid all the way right to his feet on my back nearly knocking him over too? And even lord Elrond witnessed that as well, along with you?" you chuckled and grinned a little remembering your embarassing situation, whose consequences followed you for quite some time afterwards with your patrol mates.

Lindir through his flushed cheeks bursted into laughter and giggles, covering his mouth slightly with his hand trying not to laugh at you but the memory was too funny to be able not to, "I'm sorry-," he managed to let out through his laughter.

"No it's alright it was really funny," you laughed along with him, "I did get onto polishing duty that night as a punishment but it was really funny nevertheless," you grinned.

"Yeah, I thought you slid all the way down some hill and Erestor had to pull you out by your armour and that's why you were late that night," Lindir burst into laughter again and you laughed along at the joke on your expense.

"Honestly at one point it was really close," you grinned and started to remove Lindir's great robe off his shoulders, as the two of you finally calmed down from your laughing fit.

"Whatever shall we do with your robes, my little bird? You don't have any other ones thick enough for this cold."

"Yes, but I will be alright don't worry, just going to wear an extra layer underneath-" Lindir began but you cut him off quickly.

"Nonesense, I'll take your coat to get fixed and till then-" you stopped rummaging through your closet, as Lindir quickly changed into new clean robes, pulling something out and getting up and handing him your brand new patrol winter cloak you were gifted recently, its back graced with the well known intricately embroidered crest with a mighty presence of it's own, "-you shall wear mine," you smiled happily.

Lindir looked at your cloak in bit of a shock blushing slightly, "No I-I can't- It's brand new and-"

"Come on darling, everyone knows we're courting, I think. Unless you wish to carry me draped around your shoulders as a coat to warm you up all day? But then you'd have to explain Erestor why I'm not on patrol all day," you grinned then smiled widely.

"You dummy harebrained elf," he chuckled, "Fine I will take it. But I know I'll get so many questions and comments and gazes about it."

"Even better, then you can brag about your sexy boyfriend to everyone."

He blushed at your comment and the funny pose you called "sexy" that you did while saying that, "You silly elf."

You smiled at him warmly, loving to see him smiling and laughing and happy, it made you whole being warm and fluffy on the inside and your heart skip a beat, just like the moment you first laid your eyes on him.

He caught your gaze and blushed again, lips spreading into a beautiful smile.

You smiled even more, slowly coming closer to him and placing a long kiss on his lips before fixing your robe onto his shoulders.

He blushed, looking at you doing it and standing still as you did.

You smiled once you did, taking a look at him, "My sir Lindir you're looking quite dashing today," you spun him around and proceeded to kiss the back of his hand afterwards when he turned back around.

He chuckled and blushed again, "You dummy-"

You grinned at him, pulling him close to your armour-clad chest and hugging him tightly, swaying a bit as if to music as you did, humming a little, "I don't wish to go to work, can't we stay indoors and cuddle all day?"

"I wish.." Lindir murmured through the fabric of your cloak, his face stuffed into your shoulder, " but we should get going. Lord Elrond must be wondering where I am already, and I'm sure Erestor is waiting for you too."

"Mhhh.. you're right," you let out a whine before responding.

Giving him a forehead smooch you peeled yourself off of him and fixed him up, him doing the same to you with a smile.

"Ready?" you asked, sighing a bit dreading the cold outside.

"Yes," Lindir chimed in agreement.

"Let's go then, I'll walk you to lord Elrond's, can't have you slipping and falling again and Eru forbid hurting yourself," you said as you draped your arm around his shoulder as he grabbed a couple of books of the table and then leading you both out, closing the door behind you two once you got out.

"Ah you don't have to, I'll be fine, I'll be more careful-"

"Nu-uh, I won't hear it," you mused intertwining your arms with his.

He sighed knowing there's no arguing with you when his safety is in question and the two of you made your way to Elrond's study where Lindir usually finds him in the morning.

As the two of you made your way through the passageways and halls Lindir's cheeks only grew hotter and hotter as passing elves shot him gazes and smiles.

You returned the smiles when glances were caught and only pulled Lindir closer, proud to have him as your boyfriend and so very proud to be seen with him.

Lindir too was very proud of having you as his and calling you his own, but he just got flustered very easily and was very very shy, despite how long the two of you have been together.

Whenever he'd look away shy you'd just rub the back of his hand reassuringly and shot him a warm smile, melting all his insecurities and bad thoughts away.

The two of you safely found your way to Elrond's study, halting at the big intricately carved wooden door.

"This is where we part meleth nin, all safe and sound," you smiled, placing a soft kiss on his forehead, which made his cheeks heat up and smile warmly.

"Yes, thank you for walking me to here, now rush off to Erestor before he gets mad," he spoke, worried for you getting a punishment for your inattentiveness to the time, "but be careful on frozen bits, don't need you scooping up Erestor this time."

You chuckled, "I won't.. hopefully-," you grinned interrupted by a clearing of a throat beside you.

"I see you've brought my assistant to me safe and sound," lord Elrond stood by half-opened door of his study, sly amused smirk plastered on his face, gaze landing on the long cloak draped across Lindir's back.

Lindir blushed so quickly, eyes widening at the thought of his lord seeing the displays of affection the two of you just shared.

"Yes my lord, I hope you don't mind," you smiled at him and then at Lindir, who was having a internal panic attack.

"Oh not at all," Elrond smiled, grinning slightly, his smile getting wider when his eyes landed on Lindir.

"Now I must leave, patrol awaits," you smiled at them both, shooting a loving gaze at Lindir, not wanting to attack him with kisses right in front of Elrond so he doesn't die of hyperventilation, "my lord," you took a little bow towards Elrond before turning on your heels and taking off towards the meetup spot.

"Haste your step, Erestor has already come asking for you," Elrond chimed after you, "and watch your step too," he commented, reminding you of your past incident.

"Thank you my lord, I shall," you blushed a little on his comment, bit embarrassed he still remembers that, and rushed off to Erestor.

Later that evening you returned quite late to your warm home, words of you day having had come to Lindir already.

Lindir was reading a book by the fireplace, two cups of hot freshly brewed tea on a small table besides him.

Hearing you opening the front door he stood up, smiling at you before making his way towards you, "Quite late this time, rough day?"

You let out a small whine as you slumped down on your spot, " You heard?.."

"Yes. Infamous Y/n strikes again, and this time doesn't miss," Lindir let out a chuckle, straightening you up and pulling you into a big warm hug which you gladly returned.

"It was so embarrassing, he landed right on top of me, and I got extra two hours of polishing duty as punishment," you whined, stuffing your face into his neck.

"So I've heard," he chuckled, rubbing your back comfortingly till you finally straightened and pulled away.

"How was your day? Did someone tease you about the cloak? Were you warm?"

"I-I was," he blushed a little, "so many people stared at me, and kept murmuring about it, even lord Elrond commented-" he blushed profoundly.

"What did he say?" you smiled, listening to your rambling boyfriend.

"He said I look nice in it, that it suits me," Lindir blushed even more.

You chuckled and grinned, "See? I told you."

"Hngghh," now it was Lindir's time to whine as he covered his face with his hands.

You chuckled and pulled him into a big tight hug, smooching the top of his head lovingly and then resting your cheek on top of it.

"Now let's not ponder on it, lets rather relax instead," you smiled, leading his form towards the cozy warm living room.

"I guess you are right," he sighed, "I made tea."

"Oh how wonderful, I love your teas, you make the best ones," you smiled excitedly, moving to your shared bedroom and removing your armour and setting it in it's place and getting all cozy and comfy in some casual robes quickly.

"Cuddles?" you asked with hopeful eyes as you returned to the living room, finding that Lindir has already gotten comfy in front of the fireplace, waiting for you.

"Cuddles," Lindir returned with a smile, blushing slightly.

You grinned widely and flopped besides him, pulling his body close and wrapping your arms around his waist as he chuckled and smiled at you. The two of you finally enjoying your evening with some tea and a good book and of course some very much needed and deserved cuddles.

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Family Dinner (College!Steve Harrington x Reader)

Family Dinner (Rated T)

Pairing: College!Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k+ (I got carried away)

Warnings: A few brief innuendos and Steve being a flirt. Nothing too crazy!

Summary: Stevemas Day 7- A continuation of Take Me Home for Christmas, you and Steve landed in your hometown and you're already dreading the first meeting between him and your parents. When the family dinner finally rolls around, the two of you are forced to confront your feelings due to a surprising question from your younger cousin.

“Steve, you don’t have to do this,” you glanced up at your boyfriend with the widest of pleading eyes you could muster. “You don’t have a hotel, you can just fly back to Hawkins and I’ll meet you there in a few days like we planned-”

“Babe,” Steve cut you off with a small smile. “It’s going to be okay. It’s just a few days.” He let go of his suitcase handle to hold both of your arms rather gently. ”Besides, your family is the reason you’re in my life, so how bad can it be?”

Just as you opened your mouth to answer, the shrill sound of your mother’s familiar tone as it called your full name scraped its way into your eardrums. You winced at the volume and tried your best to hide yourself against Steve’s form. “Oh god,” you muttered in a tone only he could hear. “It’s only been a minute and I already want to go. Can’t we just hop on another flight?”

“Think it’s a little too late for that,” your boyfriend muttered back, a fake smile already plastered against his lips. As he let go of your arms, he slipped a hand around your waist, pulling your back against his chest ever so gently. “Just smile and wave; it’ll be over soon.”

A sigh escaped your lips and you shook your head subtly in protest. Oh, poor Steve. Poor sweet, innocent, incredibly charming Steve. If you had known he was coming before the flight, you would have been able to give him much more than the two hour breakdown on your family’s quirks you had given him during the journey. 

“Oh, there you are!!” your mother tutted. “My favorite child, my pride and joy-“

“Mom. I’m your only child.” You felt Steve try to hold back a laugh against your back. 

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be my favorite.” The dazzling smile your mother beamed at you soon became rather discomforting. You knew that look; it was the look of first impressions. A trick she had taught you years ago, your mother knew the way to charm anyone or anything. Every time the holidays rolled around, you swore this expression was superglued to her face. The fact that Steve was here didn’t help matters much, either. 

Steve was new. Steve wasn’t like your other friends you had brought with you for the holidays. Considering you hadn’t even mentioned him to her, it was only natural your mother would be curious who this young man is with her child. 

“You must be Steve,” she said once she made eye contact. “We spoke on the phone.”

Your boyfriend smiled courteously before he reached out his free hand for her to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he spoke with an air of confidence, a tone he reserved for some of your stricter professors or advisors. It brought a smile to your face. Steve was trying to impress your parents. That had to mean something, right?

It was a minute before your father came to stand by your mother’s side. “We have get a move on if we want to beat the rush hour. It was already starting to back up when we were pulling into the parking lot.” When turned his head, you noticed the bulky black frame of his portable phone. “No, Jerry. We have to act now or else we’ll lose the sale.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Dad,” you mumbled under your breath. 

Steve subtly squeezed your hip with his hand before using his thumb to rub circles against the fabric of your shirt. Be calm, it said. You’re not alone with this anymore. I’m right here. 

“Merry Christmas, sir,” his voice came to your aid. “I’m Steve Harrington, I go to school with your-“

“Oh, right.” Your father adjusted the phone and reached a hand to shake Steve’s. “You’re the young man staying with us. Hope you were warned. The holidays around here…are known to be a bit…memorable.”

A light-hearted chuckle sounded from Steve’s throat. It was almost natural, as though it was something he was used to. Come to think of it, he probably was. Steve had told you about the Christmases of old: ones with fancy parties his parents would host for the snoots of hometown Hawkins. Steve knew how to play the part, almost as well as your parents. “So I’ve heard, sir.”

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

After driving back to the house, your mother had dragged your father out to the grocery store to pick up some extra ingredients for your great-grandma Agnes’ homemade stuffing. Your father fulfilled his societal obligation to frown upon the two of you being alone together in your room. You had playfully indulged him, arguing how you and Steve were both well into your twenties and were responsible adults. Besides, the spare guest bedroom was meant to be given to Aunt Ruth when her plane arrived the following morning. Steve couldn’t be expected to get a hotel room this close to the holiday! Unaware of what was actually happening, Steve had kindly offered to take the floor or the couch in order to respect everyone’s wishes. You wanted to kiss him senseless right then and there for his beautiful nature…maybe later. 

To be honest, the two of you were thankful for the reprieve. The entire ride to the house was full of questions, mostly directed toward you. How was school? Did you still like your major? How did you two meet? You had expected more intrusive questions, but you supposed the rest would come at the family dinner. 

Steve let out a low whistle as he set down yours and his luggage on the floor. He glanced around the pale colored walls and picture frames, a crooked smile plastered against his face. He was much more relaxed now that you were alone. This was the first time he would have a chance to learn more about your past. Steve certainly wasn’t going to let it go to waste. Your childhood bedroom wasn’t much, especially since it was mostly cleared out to fill your dorm, but it still told a story; a beautiful story of the person Steve had come to fall in love with so easily in such a short time. 

Photos of you and family were lined against the walls, mostly of you and your parents. Steve knew you had had a difficult relationship with your extended family— including your own parents. While you had been sure they meant well, you had always felt like the outcast, the one who never truly measured up to everyone’s expectations of you. As he looked at each picture, Steve felt his heart sink at the thought of a smaller you faking a smile for a picture before racing back to whatever book or song you were distracted with before. 

He wished your younger self had the smile he had tucked away in his wallet, a Polaroid he had swiped from Robin after the night he asked you out. You were laughing at something he had said. Granted, he was probably being incredibly pathetic, but you… you were really happy. Steve remembered how that day he decided your laugh was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, and he would do whatever it took to keep hearing it every day for the rest of his life. 

Each frame was hung in a particular pattern. It was clear to Steve that someone had taken great care to ensure perfection. That someone was most likely you, too. He had seen your shared dorm with Robin. While the adorable babbling musician’s side of the room was messy, yours was always kept tidy. He could hardly remember a time he’d seen something on the floor. Well, aside from that one time… Steve’s lips quirked into a smirk at the memory. 

“Nice room,” he commented, raising an index finger toward a peeling Care Bears poster. “Cute.”

He just about laughed at the way your eyes widened and you lunged to be in his field of vision. “That’s uh,” you stammered. “That’s really old.” 

Steve nodded slowly, a grin stretched across his features. “Sure it is, sweetheart,” he mused, taking a step forward to pull you back into his chest. He pressed a few kisses against your hairline. “I still think it’s adorable. Seeing you with all your little stuffed bears…”

“Stop itttt,” you whined, hiding your face deeper in his sweater. 

Steve in fact could not stop. “I bet you had like ten or twelve of ‘em and that you were even more adorable than you are now.”

Another groan escaped you as you attempted to get absorbed into his much taller frame. You could hear his heart thudding against his chest in a slow rhythm. Bum bum, bum bum, bum bum. Just hearing his heartbeat, feeling him close by, helped you to relax. It was silly, but you were more at home with Steve than you were in your childhood bedroom. 

“Can we take a nap?” your voice came out muffled from within the cotton material. After a multi-hour-long plane ride and a stressful first meeting, there was nothing you wanted more than to curl up with your boyfriend and become dead to the world. Unbeknownst to everyone else, Steve was a cuddler at night. Less of a guilty pleasure than a need, you secretly believed being held in his arms was the cure-all to everything. 

As usual, Steve was more than willing to accommodate your request. A grin stretched across his face and he wrapped his arms around your waist. “When’s the dinner?” he asked with a gentle kiss pressed to your temple. 

“Not for hours and hours,” you mumbled, voice thick with the need to sleep. Your fingers gripped into the material as you tried to physically phase yourself into your boyfriend. 

Steve’s chest expanded with a heavy sigh and he nodded. “Alright,” he agreed. “As long as your folks are alright with seeing us in the same bed. Don’t want to spend Christmas in the emergency room, babe.”

“They’ve seen worse.”

“...something you need to tell me about, sweetheart?” 

“Hm?” Your drowsy state didn’t help you recognize what you had shared with the boy before you. When he guided your head back gently to capture your gaze with his own, your brow wrinkled in confusion. Why was he looking at you like that? He looked worried, almost afraid even. Almost like he was afraid you were…

“OH!” you suddenly exclaimed. “Oh, oh, god no! No, it wasn’t me! It was my, uh, it was my cousin and his girlfriend. They had gotten a little too deep into the eggnog and decided my parent’s room would be a great spot for, uh, yeah.”

Steve blinked. “Well, that’s just stupid.” 

“Eggnog, Steve,” your tone was adamant. “Heavily spiked eggnog.”

“So stay away from the eggnog, then. Noted- oof.” The force of yours and Steve’s bodies made a soft thud as you caused the two of you to fall down onto the mattress. Your boyfriend gave a soft huff into the pillow he was now face down on. “Hey, what was that for?!”

“Shhh,” you said with a hum. “Sleep time, pretty boy.”

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

A few hours later, you woke up feeling much more refreshed and warm next to the boy you loved. Your lips twitched up into a fond smile as you took in the sight beside you. Steve was still passed out, muted snores escaping him every so often. He looked incredibly peaceful with the slight smile that seemed plastered to his face. A few stray hairs fell into his line of sight and you fought the urge to push them out of the way in fear of accidentally waking him up. 

As you watched him sleep just a bit longer, a warmth spread throughout your body. Butterflies fluttered about in your stomach and you began to wonder how you ended up in this situation. It almost seemed like something that could be written as one of those store-end-cap cheesy romance novels. Person A meets Person B, they fall in love, Person A surprises Person B on a plane on the way to meet Person B’s parents for Christmas. 

“Take a picture,” Steve croaked out in a hoarse sleep drunk tone, “it’ll last longer.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, already feeling the red hot flush as it made its ascent up your neck. “You know what they say, though. When you find good art, you take the time to appreciate it.”

“I’ve also heard that flattery gets you everywhere. How long did we sleep?”

You turned your head to glance over at the analog alarm clock perched on your old nightstand. It was almost six o’clock, meaning you had about…forty-five minutes to get ready for the most chaotic meal of your year. “A few hours,” you replied with a sigh. 

A swear escaped Steve’s lips. “We’re going to be late for dinner.”

“Nooo!” you playfully groaned as you flopped into him. You snuggled your face into his sweater again, hands sliding up his back underneath it. “We could just hide up here. ‘Sneak downstairs later to pick at some of the leftovers. Mom always ends up makin’ too much, anyway.”

“As tempting as it sounds, sweetheart,” Steve replied. “I want to make a good impression on your family. Something tells me the two of us staying up in your room all night might do just the opposite.”

You tried to reply by snuggling closer, but Steve was quicker. He scooted his way to the edge of the bed, hands pushing you gently back onto the mattress. With a stretch, he yawned and bent over to pick up the suitcase he packed. He tossed it haphazardly beside you and quickly unzipped it, pulling out the two dress shirts laid on top. The first shirt was a deep maroon with black buttons with thin horizontal white lines, one of your favorites on him. The other was a navy and grey checkered shirt you had only Steve wear for special occasions. Knowing that he selected it to bring and wear for your parents only made the warmth within you spread.

“Which one?” he asked you.

Without any hesitation, you sat up and raised an index finger toward the red shirt. “That one.”

Steve nodded at your choice, setting the other shirt back into the suitcase. He reached down to the hem of his sweater and began to lift it up off his form. You couldn’t help the stare that locked onto the skin which was slowly being revealed. When he noticed, Steve sent a wink your way. “Like what you see, babe?”

Just as you were about to answer, a barrage of knocks descended upon your door. “Dinner’s in thirty minutes!” your father’s voice boomed behind the wood. “Your mother needs help with the place settings and wrangling the kids into the dining room.”

You hung your head in exaggerated exasperation, eyes flickering back to Steve. He was attempting to smother a laugh at your expression. “Sure thing, Dad,” you called back. “Just need a minute.”

When you and Steve finally made your way downstairs, it looked as though a tornado had torn through the hallway. Backpacks, jackets, and diaper bags littered the floors and coat hangers. Several pairs of shoes were left as a heap in favor of sliding on the hardwood floors with socks. You managed to avoid having a head-on collision with your nine-year-old cousin, Alexandra, as she slid by. 

Steve, on the other hand, was not as lucky. 

“Oof,” your boyfriend exclaimed as he quickly reached down to secure the girl who had collided into him. “Are you okay?”

Your cousin merely blinked. “You’re new,” she said flatly. “Who are you?”

“Alex-” you started. 

“No, no. It’s alright, babe. I got this.” Steve waved at you with a small smile. He glanced down at the young girl before him. “I’m your cousin’s boyfriend.”

Alexandra crossed her arms and cocked a hip, eyes locked onto yours with a raised eyebrow. “You,” she said, “have a boyfriend?”

You shifted your weight side to side, left hand coming up to rub against your right arm. Sure, you knew the second you saw Steve on the plane that things were going to be even more eventful at this year’s Christmas dinner. The last thing you expected, though, was for your cousin to be the first to question your new relationship. Over the years, she had been less than supportive of your dating life, once she learned what dating was about. Every single date you had needed to pass Alex’s test – they had to be worthy enough.

Lucky for you, Steve was quick to jump to your defense. “Sure does,” he replied as he sidled over to you and wrapped an arm around your waist. A gentle press of his lips to your temple was enough for you to melt against his frame. “Somehow I managed to snag a date with this one over the semester.”

“So you go to the same school?” Alexandra questioned.  

Steve nodded and gave a gentle squeeze against your hip. “Her roommate is my best friend. Well, second best friend, if you ask this kid- Dustin Henderson. He’s staked some claim to the title, which I admit is pretty weird, but he’s a pretty cool kid-”

“Steve.” You raised a hand to place atop the arm he still had wrapped around you. When he turned his head to look at you, you could see the warmth and love in his eyes. Steve hardly ever rambled. It was a behavior reserved for moments when he was stressed or nervous. Apparently Alex had that effect on everyone she stared down. You reached up to brush his hair back in an attempt to calm him down. He immediately turned into putty in your hands, eyes closed briefly and a soft hum sounding from his throat. 

“Do you love each other?” Alexandra’s voice shattered through the magic of the moment, eyes trained solely on Steve. It caused the older boy to waver, eyes flickering between you and the small girl who challenged his existence. 

Your own breath caught in your throat. The two of you had hardly reached the title stage of your relationship. Sure, you admired the boy who had stolen your heart. You’d probably even go as far as to say you were in love with everything he did. But the question became: did he feel the same? It wasn’t something you wanted to push him into, especially not by means of a nine-year-old. What if this scared him off? What if he broke up with you right then and there, before Christmas? What if-

“‘Course we do,” Steve responded before placing a kiss on your cheek. “Your cousin is my person. And I think we all need a person, even you little miss...”

“Alexandra,” your cousin said as she held out her hand. “But you can call me Alex.”

Steve leaned down to shake her hand firmly. “Pleasure to meet you, Alex,” he said. “My name’s Steve.”

“Welcome to the family, Steve.”

Your boyfriend smiled and glanced back at you. His face was the epitome of happiness in that exact moment. Even without being able to see it, you knew that your own expression mirrored his emotions. This Christmas, the two of you had each other. Despite the rest of the chaos which ensued throughout the remainder of the evening, including your grandmother’s insistence on you retelling how the two of you met, it was one of the best dinners of your life. 

“Hey, uh, Steve,” you stuttered out when you had led him into a quiet corner of the house. You had hoped to speak to him sooner, but given the commotion of multiple little kids and gossiping family members, it proved to be more of a challenge than you anticipated. 

“Yeah?” he asked, concern etched upon his features. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! No, uh, yeah, everything’s fine!” you replied, hands reaching for his own. “I just wanted you to know that, uh, you’re mine, too.”

Steve knit his eyebrows together. “What?”

“My person, I mean. I, uh, I think of you as my person, too.”

A soft ‘oh’ left Steve’s lips as he let his hands drop down to your sides. His thumbs rubbed circles above the fabric of your shirt and he stepped closer. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. It wasn’t long or messy, just a silent promise of many Christmas dinners and plane rides to come. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered against your mouth.

You grinned as you pulled him in for another soft kiss. “Merry Christmas, Steve.” 

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

Author's Note: I couldn't resist. After writing the first part, I needed to write the second part where Steve met your family. I'm a serious sucker for Hallmark movie trope stories and I feel Steve is just the best character to use for these situations. This fic is significantly longer than most of the others in this event, but we can consider this a bit of a consolation for the missed day on the 17th. College AU Steve is actually pretty fun to write for...maybe we should do a part 3 where we travel back to Hawkins. What does everyone think?

If you enjoyed this story, please make sure to leave a comment, tag a friend, or reblog this post. Likes are appreciated, but it's interactions like these that not only help spread the word about my work, but give me the motivation to keep producing content like this for you all! For more updates on Stevemas and to make sure you never miss a post, maybe consider following my blog! I promise I won't spam with anything other than amazing authors' works :)

Until next time, my little sparks! <3

Taglist; @bakerstreethound, @theelmgrove

[thehalfbloodedwitch]

Getting a Dog on Christmas with Draco (D.m. x reader)

Pairing- Draco x Femreader

Summary- A dream the reader was to buy a dog, so Draco made that dream come true on Christmas

Words- 474 words

Draco Masterlist Main Masterlist

You had always wanted a little companion for yourself as you were an only child, but your parents refused to buy you one.

It had always been on your dream list to buy a dog for yourself, but you just didn't have enough money to buy one as after buying a dog, its maintenance items, food, etc cost a lot in the wizarding world.

"Merry Christmas darling!" Draco exclaimed and hugged you from behind, lifting you in the air.

"Merry Christmas baby," you said as you turned to him and kissed his sweet lips.

The both of you then decided to spend time with one another in your home as you cuddled and gave each other gifts.

"You bought me a ring?" Draco asked as he admired the ring you bought for him while you nodded and said, "Yes, obviously because you have always loved rings"

"Do you know what I got for you?" Draco asked, "Nope, I have no clue" you replied as you looked around to find a wrapped gift.

"Come with me," he said as he dragged you out to his car and started driving somewhere unknown to you.

"Are we at the pet store?" you asked excitedly, "Yes we are, my present for you is that you get to buy any pet from here" Draco said.

"I love you so much Draco! This is just the best gift ever!" you said as you rushed towards the pet store.

There were several dogs there, some puppies, and some grown dogs and there were different sections for other pets as well, but you stayed in the dog section.

"I want this one!" you said after almost looking at all of the dogs, "You sure?" he asked and you nodded.

"How much for the bagel puppy right there?" Draco asked the cashier and pointed towards a puppy that had brown, white, and black fur all over it.

"That'll be 80 Galleons," he said, and Draco took out his wallet and paid for the puppy.

"Thank you, baby! I love you so much!" "What are you gonna name it?" "I will name it meadow"

After the both of you reached home meadow started jumping around and sniffing around the new home while you chuckled and Draco admired you.

You gestured for Draco to come ad pet meadow, to which he refused with his hands on his chest crossed, but you carried meadow to his face to which he melted at the cute fluff ball and caressed meadow.

At the end of the night, meadow nuzzled into you in bed while you hugged Draco and meadow and slept on Draco's chest while one of Draco's hands was around your waist and one petting meadow.

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Tags for Draco December- @alexis-angelsss @blackthunder137 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kimberlyxmalfoy @offlines-idfk @dreamnotfound231 @myworldgoesboomz @staywildmoonchild91 @blisias @lazydreamer19 @fuurinbae @stef4nie @tsuki-tsukii @elizabethmalfoy16 @webofanxiety @turquoiseicepop @itchywitch33 @dr4cosimp

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Tags for Draco Taglist- @nicofiliac @steveslittlesunflower @slythermuf @cait2212 @tsukibaby1 @dracoslittleangel @enchantedforever @gachabella23 @raajali3 @siriusblackstwin @ravenqueen777

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[girl-next-door-writes]

Merry Christmas To All, And To All A Good Night!

Characters: Armitage Hux x reader

Summary: Two years on and some things have definitely changed, but has Hux really given into the Christmas Spirit, or is it simply something else?

Word Count: 1043 words

A/N: Okay, so to be totally honest, I forgot I hadn’t finished this little series, and it wasn’t until a lovely reader left a comment over on AO3 asking about it that I realised I should probably do that. I love these two idiots and almost 2 years on, this feels like a fitting epilogue.

In his mind, he had created the most perfect, the most festive moment possible. The fire was crackling as the light tones of a gentle piano softly filled the air with Christmas carols; a form of Christmas music he had not realised he quite enjoyed before meeting you. The room was illuminated by the firelight and the playful twinkling of the fairy lights which adorned the tree. The scent of pine combined with sugary treats caressed his nostrils each time he inhaled, and his heart felt warm and full as he looked at the pile of gifts beneath the tree. That had been the plan.

In reality, however, the tree he had acquired was too damned big for the room, and bent ominously to the left despite his best efforts. From where he stood, the decorations were… adequate, but he knew for a fact if he took two steps to his right, the whole display looked like a two-year-old had simply thrown things at the tree. The fire was a nightmare to get going and the sleeve of his Christmas sweater now had a small scorch mark to prove it. His attempt at Christmas cookies sat on a plate on the coffee table, burnt around the edges, icing running all over and pooling in places which highlighted the unevenness of his offerings. At least the music was soothing.

“Millicent… don’t you dare.” He glared at the lythe ginger cat who was eyeing the tree once more. The fact he’d had to pry the little maniac out of the branches three times already, causing the gifts beneath the tree to become a little battered, had him narrowing his eyes, preparing to pounce before she had a chance to make it a fourth.

Just as he was stalking towards his troublesome cat, he heard keys in the door, and his whole demeanour changed. A soft smile tugged at his lips, and a feeling of nervousness, which had never quite left him when it came to you, washed over him. Suddenly, he felt very self-conscious. Should he rush to greet you?  Should he lean against the fireplace? What should he do with his arms? As he floundered for the right response, you came into view and all that nervous anxiety faded into the background.

“Hello, sweetie. Wow! Looks like you’ve been busy while we were away.”

He simply shrugged, as if this had not been a complete labour of love, taking him the entire week while you had been visiting family. Armitage watched you closely, desperately hoping for your approval.

“What do you think, little one? Did daddy do a good job?” You smiled softly at the six-month-old child in your arms, who seemed rather enamoured with the twinkling tree.

“I’m sorry it isn’t your usual standard…”

“My standard? Oh, you sweet, adorable man, this is absolutely perfect. Thank you.” You crossed over to him and tenderly caressed his cheek before placing a loving kiss to his lips. This was your third Christmas together as a couple, the first as parents, and the effort he had gone to made your heart grow twenty times bigger.

“Well, I wouldn’t say perfect.” He murmured, bending a little to kiss his daughter’s forehead, catching Millicent disappearing beneath the tree out of the corner of his eye.

“Armitage, it is perfect.” You smiled tenderly and he felt that familiar feeling of his world softening around the edges.

As you passed your daughter over to him, you took in all the little details. The mistletoe hanging, and the smattering of tiny holes in the ceiling where it had obviously taken him several attempts to get it to stay up. The lop-sided tree, missing its star because the top branches were crushed against the ceiling. The oddly shaped cookies which possibly should have been snowflakes, but now had the appearance of melted snowmen. Turning your gaze back to your husband, watching him explain the intricacies of tree decoration to your tiny daughter as she reached for the sparkling lights, you really couldn’t describe this as anything but perfect.

“Oh, Millicent! For god’s sake!” Armitage huffed as the ginger menace’s head popped out of the branches, a smug, self-satisfied look on her face as several baubles bounced to the floor, causing you to laugh.

“I take it she has been ‘helping’ you with the tree since you got it?” You smirked as he rolled his eyes.

“She is just lucky I haven’t punted her out of the window yet.” He groused, but there was no real threat there, you both knew Millie was part of the family and he adored her.

“Millicent Hux, get out of that tree.” You said sternly, and the cat slank back, not leaving the tree branches, but at least staying out of sight, so that could be considered a win.

Armitage wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. “I missed you. I know I was working, but…”

But the festive season without you by his side just reminded him of how lonely he had been before you had dragged him into this magical chaos. Every day, he was so grateful that you had seen something in him worth pursuing, something that meant you put up with him at his worst as well as his best. Placing a tender kiss to your forehead, he silently thanked whichever supernatural deity who was responsible for dropping you into his life.

“Oh, I got us all new Christmas jumpers. I’m afraid this one is more colourful than your last.” You smirked as you looked up at your husband with a hint of adoration. This adorable, awkward mess of a man really was the best person you knew, and you enjoyed pulling him out of his comfort zones.

“When you say colourful… please tell me it isn’t neon.” He sighed dramatically, trying to hold back his smile.

“You always assume neon. When has it ever been neon?” You teased, heading over to your bags to find the jumpers.

“One day your mummy will bring me neon, and I will only have myself to blame.” He cooed down at his daughter with a grin. His girls were home, Christmas was fast approaching, all was right in his world once more.

[justalittletoocorrupted]

Secret Santa prompt!

Merry Christmas you guys!! I know I've been gone a while but I had taken a part in a discord writing secret Santa! My person was @onlywhump so I really hope you enjoy!!

Lots To Do

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The day had started so well… 

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It was a bright day out. The sun was shining, the people in the city were happy… and the hero was on their way to a meeting with their boss, superhero! Well… maybe less of a meeting and more of an evaluation. The week prior the hero had brought to light a gruesome story of a civilian that had been kidnapped by a villain the world had now deemed “the metal welder” for their horrific crime of turning the once loved civilian into a robotic structure that was once remnant of a person. Although the hero was able to save the civilian, they had found that the villain had made a quick escape before they or their team could catch them. Hero had been well thanked for their hard work towards discovering, locating, and saving the victim involved… though they had hoped to have gotten the thanks for catching the villain too. But the most important part was getting the victim! That the hero did leaving them *something* to be proud of.

But.. maybe if they were a little quicker, then they wouldn’t have gotten here….

Everything had gone by so fast. One moment the hero was rummaging through their bag to find their keys to get inside the building, then the next they were on the ground. There were dark stars invading their vision from all over that continued to grow until they could see nothing at all! The worst part was they couldn’t even see who it was that had caused this…

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By the time the poor hero woke up something was different. Very different. However there was little time given to figure out what it was that had changed before a voice from somewhere behind them spoke up. 

“Sleep well?”

Hero sat up quickly, a panic rushing through their mind as they scrambled to find who it was behind them. Strangely enough.. their head was able to turn far enough to meet the eyes of their kidnapper. Could their neck go that far before?

“Ah, I see you’re using your new perks already..” The stranger grinned.

“Perks?? What do y–” Wait.. was that villain??! The hero gasped, “[Villain]! What the fuck did you do?!?” they hissed.

“What did I do..?” Villain tsked, “Oh [Hero]… what did you do? You were the one that took my beloved experiment..” they sighed, “So I had to get a new one..”

A new one? What on earth did the villain mean?? The hero looked down at their legs so they could push themself off the table only for the shine of metal to catch its attention. 

Metal. Oh god, their legs were metal…… And…. If their legs were metal.. Then that means—

Oh god.

The hero looked back up to the villain who had the biggest smile they had ever seen a villain wear.

“Stand.” the villain directed, “Stand, my beautiful creation.” they repeated.

The hero’s gaze drifted to locked on their own legs again. Their chest heaving as they tried to process what it was that was going on, but absent mindedly they found themselves pushing their heavy body off the table to stand. 

“Feel anything?” The villain asked, cocking a brow. What did they mean by "feel anything”?? Of course they didn’t!! They’re a freaking ROBOT! Not even a cyborg, no, because from what the hero could see *nothing* on them was organic! Everything was metal! Cold metal!

The hero didn’t answer, and it seemed that the villain didn’t need one to continue. “I spent hours, maybe even a full day on you, my precious..” they added, taking a few steps closer to the still in shock hero. “You’re my best outcome yet..” 

The best?? Maybe the worst! The hero found themself unable to find the smallest word or sound to express their feeling that wasn’t the newfound urge to cry and fall to their now metal knees. What would superhero think? What would their friends think? Their family? Their coworkers? Would they even recognize them?? Depending on such answers, the hero worried that perhaps it would be time to simply give up. 

“Oh, [Hero]~” The villain's grading voice forced itself into the hero's ears after their spiraling, “You may want to listen before I begin testing..” 

Testing. 

The hero couldn’t process any of the villains words aside from testing. 

And that was the hero’s final straw. 

So with a sudden burst in motion the hero began bolting it to the first door their eyes had landed on. The metal clanks of the hero’s replaced feet could be heard loud and clear, yet the villain didn’t seem worried at all. 

“So be it..” 

Suddenly the hero felt something jam itself into their back. Whatever it was, it pulled the hero back at such a force their back slammed into the wall and left them collapsed on the floor groaning in pain. 

Wait.

Pain??

“Yes!” The villain cheered, “Oh, my darling… you DO feel!” The villain gasped, taking no time as they practically skipped their way over to the crumbled hero. When they knelt down, the villain was gentle to brush the hair, or what replaced the hero’s old organic hair, out of their face. 

On the other hand, the hero found themselves confused and in tears. “Wh– what did you do to me, [Villain]?!?!” they babbled out through what they assumed to be their tears. What part of them was organic? Was this all some illusion? Was the hero even human anymore?

No. 

Clearly not.

“Can’t you see, [Hero]?” the villain asked, “I just fixed you, that’s what! Do you have any idea as to how special you are now? How special you are to me? Why, you’re a miracle!!” they nearly cried, the criminals hands reaching up and cupping the mechs cheeks. 

“We need to do more tests..” they rambled, glancing around them before their eyes landed on what looked to be a glass bottle. The hero cried in reprimand, squirming as their hand grabbed onto the villain's arm and squeezed. They knew it usually wouldn’t do much, but they were hoping desperately that their newfound body would be strong enough to stun the villain. That attempt appeared to be in vain as it didn’t stop the villain from slamming the glass onto the hero’s head. If they could bleed they surely would’ve. The hero screamed in pain, confusion, grief, sadness, just about any overwhelming thought going on in their mind began to bubble up and out of their throat every time a new sting of pain flourished throughout their body. Maybe it was an excuse to express themselves, but perhaps this is too far from being considered an “excuse” when the hero was transformed into something they never once mentioned any possible form of consent to. If anything they expressed nothing but disgust!

The villain on the other hand was laughing. They were fucking laughing. They laughed and smiled and hummed as they battered the robotic hero every which way that wouldn’t compromise themselves. The grin on their face and their reddened cheeks were sickening, and yet the hero did nothing to pry themselves from the others arms. Despite the pain they were subjecting the hero to.. They were the only one offering comfort, too. That was the one thing the hero felt they needed most right now.. 

“Oh, if you weren’t metal I’d be doing much worse..” the villain said with a tone of voice that made the hero want to scream. Their head laying atop the others below them, “Perhaps I give you a minute while I set things up, hm?... We have lots to do, my darling. Lots to do.”

[nickandros]

Hello! I got house of open wounds and I’m back (Merry Christmas I guess). I wish I could say something more articulate than what you’ve already said, I get why some people liked it more, it’s got a defined cast and Yasnic was always brilliant and it probably is a bit easier to keep track of plus it’s still got my best friends fucked up god relationships and evil healing but ugh I missed the first book. I missed the rush of two characters who had no connection stumbling into each other and one picking up the plot to get its miserable relay baton to the next person. I missed feeling like Ilmar was being dissected and I could see its guts and sinew while it tried to haunt me back. And I don’t think anything can ever top the absolute euphoria of Hellgram finding his wife and how it suddenly made complete sense or getting into the Reproach and wanting to put like 5 of my D&D characters into a Situation. Also why did he end the book still getting called Jack. It was good, great even, and I feel like I could be insane over any number of moving parts, just not As insane :(

oh you are SO correct 100% i agree with you entirely on the relay baton comment that's exactly what i loved so much about the first book and ILMAR. MY BELOVED ILMAR. expecting me to care about anything when we all know the reproach is back in that city is mind boggling. ohhhhhh and yasnic :(((( when god was telling him he needed to tell them his proper name otherwise they wouldn't put the right name on his headstone i could have wept. and now yasnic is bound just as much of the rest of them due to the life saving healing like of course he always WAS but now he UNDERSTANDS. ugh! city of last chances you will always be famous!!!

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Have a (late) merry Christmas to you as well friend! :D

1: which movie is their favorite in the kung fu panda trilogy? & what’s their favorite moment?

2: speaking of kung fu panda, are they excited for the fourth one? Or thinks the trilogy is ok; no need for an another one?

3: fun fact: Chris was based off of the kid in the movie Superman returns (or was it vice versa don’t remember) & the kid can play piano; both the real & keyboard. So I have a Headcanon that Chris can play piano.

4: what kind of slapstick does the duo “perform?” Like slamming into walls, slipping on something slippery, landing crotch first on something, etc…

5: what’s the saddest video game they played?

6: I think I asked this already but what is something the duo does traditionally with their families?

I would like to say a late merry Christmas & a happy new year to you my friend! I’m thankful for you bringing the duo to life :D

Thanks so much @gothicghost2000 fir your kind words and encouragement. It’s truly appreciated

1) Oh beyond any sort of doubt, the second one reigns supreme as the best of the entire trilogy fir the two. That they can agree on for certain. Now where they differ are their favorite moments of said trilogy. For Chris can’t stop thinking about the battle against Kai in the Spirit Realm while Jake vets absolutely starstruck with Tai Lung’s prison breakout.

2) The Duo are utterly mixed by the fourth film as while the fact Tai Lung is returning and teaming up with an interesting new villain certainly has their attention, they do think that the original trilogy worked out perfectly as is. The fourth one has a high bar in quality to clear if it ought to justify its inclusion.

3) Oh yes, I remember Jason White and the influence he had when Chris was being created. So I can see Chris at first learning how to play piano during the earlier years of staying on Earth. It’d be around the time he turns 9 when he transitions more to playing Bass. But even nowadays he can still play piano despite not being his main instrument.

4) Slamming into walls while either running real fast or likely flying straight into them due to failing to look ahead, getting bonked on the head via failing to look up for incoming objects in the air, sometimes getting slapped in the face by unappreciative people they rescue, very uncomfortable leg splitting when they hold two separating large building to prevent them from falling apart (SpiderMan Homecoming style), and yes… ‘gentle’ landings when they sometimes fail in trying to proper look down below; all of that are very constant in the daily superhero life of these two despite their best efforts

5) It’s a toss up between Mother/Earthbound 3 and Omori as the gut wrenching takes both games have leave Chris and Jake rushing for their tissue boxes by the time they’re done. Though Mother 3 might slightly edge out as the sadness there has a more clever disguise with its goofy Nintendo charm while Omori’s more psychological thriller/horror approach at first spooks the Duo and then some before it’s breaks their hearts

Honorable mention though goes to FNAF 4, especially when they see the mini games.

6) Well it doesn’t hurt to give new answers to this one

Chris: I can see Conner and him drop by the Metropolis Grand Mall together, checking out all sorts of the various stores inside, browsing around anything that catches their eyes or at least if said has something they’ve been thinking about in the back of the minds. Though of course if Conner starts getting flirty with some girls at the food court, it’s quite easy for Chris to roll his eyes and drag Conner away by his ear, just like how Mom Lois does that

Jake: Every now and then, the entire family would pay a visit to the new permanent residence of Haly’s Circus, settled in Bludhaven’s Mealtide Park when it’s not on a cross-country/worldwide tour thanks to Dick’s ownership of it. Jake especially liked having small talks with some of the performers and staff who had been there when his father was little and performing along his own parents, curious fir all sorts of stories from that time. Also, Mar’i and him flat out love Zitka the elephant and she loves them right back, allowing to settle on her back and play around her trunk.

[nixoninc]

This Christmas Eve (Donald Malarkey x Reader)

Dear @emmythespacecowgirl

Ho Ho Ho and Merry Christmas from your Secret Santa! Hope you enjoy this piece inspired by your prompts. I had a blast writing it - it's short and sweet but hope you'll love it. Happy Holidays!

“Wow, did you see that?!” Don Malarkey whisper-shouted to you across the sofa.

Your eyelids had been drooping and you had been resisting the urge to fall asleep for some time now. At his prompt, you sat up and tried focusing on the animal documentary he was watching on the screen in front of you.

You were at Luz’s annual Christmas Eve party and looking around it seemed you and Don were the only ones not yet passed out and sprawled across various pieces of miss-matched furniture in Joe and George’s apartment. You caught sight of the clock on the wall and saw it was nearly past 2am – no wonder your body wanted sleep. It had been a long evening full of drinking and laughter and childlike excitement for Christmas and more drinking.

Had it been anyone else on the other side of the sofa, you would have excused yourself and bid them a goodnight. Only it wasn’t anyone else, it was Don; your best friend.

“Mmm, what happened,” you asked him.

“Well, when we finished all the Christmas films in Luz’s queue, I switched it over to Lemur Island – have you ever seen this? These guys are so cool!” His eyes were wide and twinkling as he began filling you in on all the parts you missed and how they’re his new favourite thing in the world. “I mean did you know there’s over 100 species of lemur out there and yet they all live in pretty much the same place?” This went on for a while…

“Also, they’re a matriarch – how cool is that – and they can even sing! Like c’mon these dudes are awesome, don’t you think?”

Malarkey’s voice was rising with excitement towards the end of his outburst and starting to stir some of the others, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care even in the slightest. You were charmed by the joy and child-like excitement in his voice. You loved him so much in that moment – he had no idea, but God did you love him.

You couldn’t help laughing at this point. “Yeah Don, lemurs are pretty great. They’re actually my favourites, how long have you been watching this?”

“Oh, only a couple of hours, but I’ll tell ya it’s addictive stuff.”

You laughed again and the two of you slipped into easy conversation for the next few minutes. After a while you noticed that a blanket had been draped around you that definitely wasn’t there when you started falling asleep.

Don caught the confusion on your face, “Um yeah, you looked cold so hope you don’t mind I found a blanket in one of Luz’s rooms to make sure you were comfortable.”

You glanced up at Malarkey through your eyelashes and he suddenly seems much closer than before. You weren’t sure if it was the soft lighting from the TV or the late hour that took its effect, but he never looked more stunning.

You had been wondering for a while the possibility of your feelings being reciprocated. You caught stray looks from him when he thought you weren’t looking and the guys always teased you both calling you the mum and dad of the group.

For so long you were afraid of making a move and ruining your perfect friendship if he didn’t feel the same way. That fear was still nestled deep inside of you but courage rushed to the surface quicker and you leaned across, subtly tucking yourself into his outstretched arm along the edge of the sofa.

He didn’t protest and actually did the opposite by wrapping his muscular arm around you loosely. You could feel his heartbeat under the blanket and it was the safest you’d ever felt.

You kept watching the lemurs frolic around the screen some longer, both adding in funny commentary along the way. “Ha look how that one walks funnier than the other… woah they can jump so high… phew did you see the rings of the one’s tail!”

When the credits started to roll you considered shutting your eyes and just staying there wrapped up in the man of your dreams. Just for one night.

You didn’t want to break the spell of this moment, but sent a prayer up that he knew and felt the same way too.

You cleared your throat and eventually turned to face him before the next episode rolled on. “Hey Don,”

“Yeah Y/N,” he gazed down at you with so much tenderness in his deep brown eyes. His scene enveloping you and feeling like you were the only two people on the planet right now. And you knew, you just knew that all this wasn’t just in your head and there was a future together after all.

“Merry Christmas”