#was a little busy with life but I am back

[d-z20]

Her Game, Your Rules (NSFW)

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: To stop your family's reputation burning to the ground you are forced to marry Rio Vidal, an old money type of rich CEO who seems to be on a mission to make your life hell

-OR-

You end up snapping and fuck Rio to get your frustrations out.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, Top Reader, Bratty Rio, biting, marking, fingering (Rio recv), fisting, dom brat-tamer reader, seriously it's just rough smut, maybe some plot if you squint

Words: 3.6k

A/N: At the time of writing this, I am under the influence of christmas spirits (read vodka and mulled wine) and so this is a little self induldgent and I apologise for any typos oops

AO3 | Masterlist

Your family’s fall from grace is like a slow-motion train wreck—every headline, every whispered scandal, is another crack in your once-unshakeable reputation. The solution comes as a cruel irony: an arranged marriage. Not to just anyone, but to Rio Vidal.

She’s untouchable, the CEO of a sprawling conglomerate with roots so deep in old money they’re practically fossilised. Her power is absolute, her public image flawless, and her demeanor? Smug. To her, this marriage is nothing but a game, another business deal where she holds all the cards.

The first time she calls you pet, it’s during the engagement photoshoot. The photographer adjusts your pose—her arm around your waist, her hand resting at the curve of your hip—and she leans in, her voice low and taunting. “Smile, pet. You wouldn’t want them to think you’re unhappy with me, would you?”

Her hand squeezes the flesh of your hip and you almost snap.

It only gets worse after the wedding. Rio is everywhere—her presence suffocating yet calculated, as though she knows exactly how to push your buttons without ever truly crossing a line. At home, in the shared penthouse you can’t even call yours, she lounges with infuriating ease. She’s always perfectly put-together: designer suits, expensive perfumes, and that perpetual smirk.

“You’re tense again,” she says one evening from the couch, sipping her wine like a queen on her throne. “Is it me, or are you trying not to stare?”

You grit your teeth. If she notices how often your fists clench, she doesn’t let it show.

Tonight is no different. A high-profile business dinner sees you both playing the part of the perfect power couple. Rio dazzles the room effortlessly, sliding her hand into yours with calculated affection as though it’s second nature. Her teasing words are quiet, meant only for you.

“Careful with that scowl, pet,” she murmurs while brushing non-existent lint from your jacket. “You’ll ruin the illusion.”

By the time you return to the penthouse, you’re simmering. The space feels colder than usual, and Rio only adds to it as she strides inside like she owns not just the apartment but the entire city. She shrugs off her coat and tosses it onto a chair without looking back at you.

“You were quiet tonight,” she says, her voice laced with that familiar condescension. She turns just enough to meet your gaze, and there it is—that smug little smile. “I’d almost think you were enjoying my company.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snap, but it’s exactly what she wants.

Rio’s smile widens as she steps closer, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. She stops right in front of you, impossibly composed as always, and tilts her head like she’s sizing you up. Her eyes glint with something sharp, something knowing.

“Oh? Is that irritation I hear, pet?” She purrs, voice low and teasing. “It’s adorable how hard you try to keep it together. But I see you, you know. You hate how much I get under your skin.”

The change happens like lightning striking—quick, hot, and inevitable. Before you realise it, you’ve grabbed her wrist and spun around, slamming her back against the closed door. The sound echoes through the penthouse, sharp in the silence.

Rio gasps softly, her breath catching as her back hits the door. For the first time, her perfect composure falters. Her wide eyes meet yours, lips parting as though she’s trying to find something to say, but for once, she’s quiet.

“All that teasing, Rio,” you murmur, stepping closer until there’s barely an inch between you. Your voice drops low, deliberate. “Did you think I wouldn’t do something about it?”

Her silence is electric, crackling between you.

You reach out, tilting her chin with two fingers, forcing her to look at you. Her breath hitches, and you catch it—the tiniest flicker of uncertainty in her gaze, a fracture in her armor. But then, like a reflex, her lips curl into a small, bratty pout.

“What’s the matter?” You taunt softly, a smirk tugging at your mouth. “Cat got your tongue?”

Rio’s breath is uneven now, her lashes fluttering as she blinks at you. She tries to mask it with that familiar bite of defiance. “Finally showing some backbone, pet?” she whispers, her voice breathier.

The words make you grin. “You like pushing me,” you say, your hands sliding to her hips, pinning her against the door. She tenses just slightly beneath your grip, her body betraying her cool demeanor. “But you’re not as untouchable as you think you are.”

Rio’s chin lifts defiantly, her sharp gaze meeting yours like a challenge. “And what are you going to do about it?” She breathes, but there’s something crumbling in her voice now—something you can feel.

Your smirk widens as you lean in, your mouth brushing against the shell of her ear. “Exactly what you’ve been asking for, Vidal.”

And then you kiss her.

It’s not gentle. It’s months of frustration, tension, and unspoken words igniting all at once. Rio lets out a small, startled noise against your mouth, one that only fuels you further. Her hands shoot up to grip your shoulders, but whether she’s trying to push you away or pull you closer, you can’t tell, and you don’t care.

You press her harder against the door, tilting her head back as you deepen the kiss. For once, she isn’t teasing. Her breaths are quick, her lips parting under yours with a kind of quiet surrender that makes you feel drunk on power. Her smugness is gone, replaced by something raw, something real.

When you finally pull back, Rio looks at you with half-lidded eyes, her cheeks flushed and her breaths coming fast. Her composure is shattered, her usual teasing grin nowhere to be found.

“Well?” you murmur, brushing a thumb along her jaw as you tilt her face to yours. “Still feeling smug?”

She scowls, breathless, and flustered in a way you’ve never seen before. “Don’t get cocky,” she mutters, her voice soft but bratty, her gaze darting away as if she can’t bear how vulnerable she looks.

You grin, leaning in again until your lips hover over hers. “I’m just getting started, pet.”

Your smirk lingers as you grab Rio’s wrist, guiding her away from the door and deeper into the penthouse. She doesn’t resist—her breathing still unsteady, her steps hurried to keep up with you. The silence stretches, punctuated only by the soft click of your shoes against the hardwood floor and the faint rustle of her movements behind you.

The door to your bedroom swings open, and you tug her inside, not giving her a chance to reclaim even a shred of that smug composure. You push her back against the edge of the bed, and Rio stumbles slightly, catching herself with her palms as she glares up at you. That flash of defiance is still dancing in her eyes, but it’s tempered now—undercut by the pink flush dusting her cheeks, the way her chest rises and falls too quickly.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you taunt, stepping closer, standing over her. “Nothing to say, Vidal?”

Rio swallows, the sharp comeback you know she wants to make catching in her throat as her gaze flicks up to meet yours. Instead, she juts her chin out stubbornly, a spark of her usual bratty fire returning. “What, do you need a gold star for dragging me in here?”

You huff out a low laugh, reaching out to hook a finger into the front of her perfectly tailored blazer and tug her back to her feet. Rio gasps softly at the sudden movement, but you’re already turning her around. She lets out a small, startled noise when her back presses against your chest. You take your time sliding the blazer off her shoulders, letting the fabric pool at her feet, followed by the silky blouse underneath. Every inch of newly exposed skin is a victory, a crack in her armour.

When she tries to turn back around, you stop her, sliding one hand over her hip to hold her in place. “Stay still,” you murmur, your voice low and commanding against her ear. Her body stiffens at your tone, but she doesn’t fight you. Your hand drifts upward, running along her bare arm, then grazing the strap of her bra before letting it fall. Her breath hitches audibly.

You step back just slightly to admire her—the perfect Rio Vidal, now flushed and breathless, standing before you in nothing but her skirt. You don’t bother hiding your smirk as you lean in again, your fingers dragging down the zipper. The skirt slips down her legs, leaving her in only the barest scrap of black lace.

“Look at you,” you whisper, grazing your knuckles over her hip. She shivers under your touch, her sharp facade slipping further. “All that teasing. All that attitude. And yet here you are.”

Rio turns her head just enough to glare at you over her shoulder, but the effect is ruined by the redness in her cheeks and the way her lips part slightly as if she can’t catch her breath. “Don’t let this go to your head,” she mutters, though her voice waves.

You chuckle softly, reaching out to grip her chin and turn her face toward you. “You’re still talking back?” you murmur. You tilt her head, leaning close enough for your lips to brush against hers—but you don’t kiss her. You let her feel the heat of you; let her squirm under your touch.

When she finally lets out a small, frustrated whimper, you know you’ve won.

“Good girl,” you murmur against her mouth before finally capturing it in a kiss—deep, heated, and utterly consuming.

Rio melts against you, her defiance unravelling as your hands trail down her body, leaving no part of her untouched. You don’t bother taking off your own clothes so her nails dig into the fabric of your shirt, gripping it desperately as if she can’t get close enough. Her bratty protests are gone now, replaced by quiet, breathy sounds you’d never thought you’d hear from her. Each one is like fuel to the fire burning between you.

When you finally guide her back onto the bed, pinning her beneath you with her wrists above her head, Rio looks up at you—flushed, vulnerable, and breathless.

“Still feeling smug?” you ask, smirking as you lean over her.

She doesn’t answer this time. She just arches her back, tilts her head slightly, and gives you a look that’s both challenging and pleading all at once.

“Yeah,” you murmur softly, leaning down to nip at her neck. “That’s what I thought.”

As you hover over Rio, the flicker of defiance in her eyes does little to hide the vulnerability beneath. Your lips curl into a satisfied smirk as you trail your fingers lightly along the curve of her hip, the teasing touch making her squirm. Your other hand rests firmly at the base of her neck, your thumb brushing against her pulse—steady but quickened, betraying the control she’s desperately trying to hold onto.

“Look at you,” you say again, your voice dripping with condescension. “Everyone thinks you’re in charge of everything you do, but we both know that’s a lie.”

Rio’s eyes narrow at the jab, her lips parting as though she’s about to retort, but the words catch in her throat when your thumb presses just a little more firmly against her neck. Her body shivering beneath you, her breath hitching as your hand on her hip continues its slow, deliberate strokes—up, down, and back again, each motion calculated to unravel her composure further.

“You can’t fool me, pet. I can feel the way you’re trembling. I can see the way your body reacts. Face it—you love this,” you whisper, delighting in the way the name makes her shiver.

Her cheeks flush deeper, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she tries to keep her resolve. Your hand on her hip shifts slightly, your fingertips brushing lower, closer to the edge of that last scrap of lace. Her breath stutters, and despite her best efforts, a soft whine escapes her lips.

“You talk a big game,” you say, your thumb stroking gently along the side of her neck, holding her in place as your free hand drifts lower. Without ceremony, you hook your fingers into the delicate band of her underwear and slide it down her legs in one smooth motion, letting the damp fabric fall to the floor. “But right now? You’re mine. And the best part?” Your lips curve into a wicked smile. “You don’t even want to fight it.”

Rio lets out a shaky exhale, her bravado crumbling further as your grip tightens ever so slightly, just enough to remind her who’s in charge. When she finally speaks, her voice is a barely whisper, lacking its usual sharpness. “Don’t get used to this,” she mutters, but the effect is ruined by the faint, pleading undertone in her words.

You laugh softly, low and mocking, as you lean down to press a slow, claiming kiss against her throat. “Oh, I’m already used to it, pet,” you whisper against her skin, feeling the way her pulse races beneath your lips. Your hand trails downward, slipping between her thighs as you drag a single finger through her slick folds, teasing and deliberate. The sharp intake of her breath is music to your ears, her body trembling under your touch. “And judging by the way you’re falling apart, I’d say you are too.” As the final words leave your mouth, you roughly shove two fingers inside of her.

Rio’s body arches into yours, her resistance melting away completely as her hands grip at your shoulders, holding onto you like you’re the only solid thing in her world. Whatever composure she had left is gone now, replaced by soft, whiney noises that fuel the fire between you.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look down at her—flushed, vulnerable, and completely at your mercy. “See?” you taunt, brushing your thumb along her jaw. “This is where you belong, Rio. Beneath me.”

You smirk darkly, pulling your fingers out of her with no warning, ignoring the desperate whine that spills from her lips as you do. Her body jerks at the sudden emptiness, and before she can so much as recover, you grab her by the waist and flip her over like she weighs nothing.

Rio lets out a surprised gasp, her cheek pressing against the mattress as you shove her down, one hand fisting into her hair to keep her in place. “Stay,” you growl, your voice rough and commanding, punctuated by the sharp tug of her hair that forces her head to tilt back just enough to expose her neck. “You don’t get to be in control here, pet.”

Your other hand grips her hip, pulling her back so she’s on her knees, her spine arching beautifully under the pressure of your grip. Her face remains pressed against the mattress, muffling all the noises spilling from her lips. You drag your nails along the curve of her back, just hard enough to leave red trails in their wake, marking her as yours.

“If people could see you now,” you sneer, tugging her hair again, eliciting a broken moan from her. “The big, bad CEO, reduced to this—a whimpering little thing begging for my touch. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic.” The hand on her hip slides upward, fingertips digging into her skin hard enough to leave bruises in their wake, so she won’t forget tonight anytime soon.

Rio tries to lift her head, her defiance flaring for a fraction of a second, but you slam her hips back down in a single, rough motion, pressing her further into the mattress. “Don’t even think about it,” you snap, tightening your grip on her hair. “You don’t move unless I say so.”

Her body trembles under your hands, her breathing ragged and uneven as she struggles to maintain even the smallest semblance of composure. But it’s useless—every rough tug, every sharp dig of your nails into her skin, every mocking word you whisper breaks her down further.

You lean over her, your teeth scraping against the curve of her shoulder before you bite down—enough to leave a mark, a visible reminder of exactly who she belongs to. Rio gasps, her body arching instinctively against you, and you let out a low, satisfied chuckle. “That’s better,” you murmur, your lips brushing against the fresh mark. “Now, be a good girl and take what I give you.”

You don’t give her time to recover as your hand slides back between her thighs, forcing them apart as far as they’ll go. Without hesitation, you thrust two fingers back inside her, rough and unrelenting. The wet, obscene sound of it fills the room, mixing with Rio’s muffled cries against the mattress. She’s already trembling, her walls clenching around you as you add a third finger without pause. Her body shudders violently, her knees wobbling under the sheer intensity of your pace.

You curl your fingers just enough to draw a choked moan from her lips. “Falling apart already? You like being ruined, don’t you, pet?” Your words are cruel and mocking, as you drive her higher, your fingers moving faster and deeper, until the tight heat of her body is nearly overwhelming.

When her breath catches again, when her thighs quiver, you push further, withdrawing your fingers briefly before pressing back in with four, stretching her open. Rio lets out a strangled sound, her head turning just enough for you to catch the tears clinging to her lashes, the way her lips part in breathless surrender. She’s shaking now, reduced to nothing but broken moans and whimpers.

“Not enough?” you rasp, gripping her hip harder with your free hand to hold her steady. “Then take all of it.” Slowly, deliberately, you press your fist inside her, feeling her tense, and then give way around you. Her body arches sharply, a guttural cry escaping her as her head drops forward, her hands clutching desperately at the sheets. The sheer intensity of it has her completely undone, her body jerking with each movement as you start to move, each thrust coaxing more incoherent noises from her lips.

“You’re a mess,” you growl, your tone dripping with smug satisfaction as you watch her fall apart. “The mighty Rio Vidal, completely wrecked and begging for more. Tell me, pet—who do you belong to?”

Rio is a wreck beneath you, her body quivering and her breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps. Her hands claw at the sheets, her nails curling into the fabric as though it’s the only thing grounding her. “Please,” she finally whimpers, her voice trembling and cracked, a stark contrast to her usual composed arrogance. “Please, I—I’m so close.”

You lean over her, your hand still working relentlessly, your fist driving into her over and over again. The slick heat of her body clenching around you sends a thrill of power coursing through your veins. “What’s that, pet?” you mock, leaning closer to nip at the shell of her ear. “Did I hear you begging? The untouchable Rio Vidal, pleading for permission? Say it again. Say exactly what you want.”

Her response is immediate, raw, and desperate. “Please! Let me—let me cum,” she sobs, her voice muffled against the mattress. “I need it, I can’t—please, just—please!” Every word is laced with want, with a pleading edge that makes your smirk widen.

You slow your movements just enough to make her whine, her body writhing in frustration as you keep her teetering on the edge. “You’re mine,” you growl, your voice low and firm, as your free hand slides up her spine before tangling in her hair again, pulling her head back enough to make her gasp. “Say it, Rio. Tell me who you belong to.”

Her reply takes less than a second, her walls clenching around your hand as the words spill from her lips like a confession. “Yours! I’m yours, please, just let me—”

You cut her off by picking up the pace again, your movements rough and unrelenting. Her body seizes as she tumbles over the edge, her cry muffled by the sheets as her climax tears through her. Her thighs tremble violently, and she’s left gasping, completely undone beneath you. You ride her through every wave of it, drawing out her pleasure until she collapses, spent and shaking, her cheek pressed against the mattress as her breathing slowly steadies.

For a long moment, the room is filled only with the sound of her ragged breathing. Then, a low, dark chuckle escapes her lips, raspy and laced with exhaustion. “Well,” she murmurs, her voice still shaky but dripping with wry amusement. “I guess that counts as finally consummating our marriage.” She tilts her head just enough to glance back at you, her usual smirk making a weak but defiant return, though her flushed cheeks and trembling thighs betray her.

You huff a laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to the curve of her shoulder. “Careful, Vidal,” you say against her skin. “We both know who’s really in charge here.” You trail your fingers down her spine, watching the way she shivers under your touch.

Rio chuckles again, softer this time, as she shifts slightly, her body still too spent to fully move. “To the world, I’m still the untouchable CEO,” she says, her voice quiet but firm, the sharp edge of her confidence returning. “But between us?” She glances at you, her eyes glinting with that familiar mix of defiance and surrender. “We both know where I belong.”

Your smirk widens as you push her hair back, brushing your lips against her temple. “That’s right, pet,” you say softly. “And don’t you forget it.”

-----

Happy Holidays sluts (complimentary) if you are celebrating anything, if not Happy Dec 24th :D

this was going to be the arranged marriage au for aaa week before my laptop decided to be homophobic and break >:(

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taglist: @danveration (comment to be added to a taglist)

[gotta-winwin]

(🎄) ... mirth and good cheer - xmas special

⭐ starring: vernon

🎄preview: vernon used to fly back to new york every christmas for one reason only: his childhood best friend. christmas used to be his and y/n’s thing, until he got seemingly too busy to ever return. now, as y/n departs to korea for the first time, she can’t help but wonder if her and vernon would ever cross paths again. vernon, unbeknownst to her, has been wondering the exact same thing. as the boys set up their christmas tree in their dorm, he does his best to ignore how hints of y/n still seemed to linger throughout the holiday air. 

tw/cw: idol!vernon x nonidol!reader, childhood friends to lovers, estranged friends, slight miscommunication, fluff, slight angst, best christmas romcom vibes, features svt members, stubborn!reader, equallystubborn!vernon, use of y/n, flips between past and present day

☁️ masterlist & a/n: dropping a vernon x reader fic for our xmas special! doesn't vernon just scream childhood bestie to lover (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ merry christmas my loves!

11 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024:

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work.” Mingyu slapped Vernon’s hand away from the tree they were decorating. “It’s supposed to be symmetrical, not whatever you’re doing.”

Vernon had to admit he wasn’t really paying attention. Their dorm auntie, the one who came around once a week to clean up the place, had baked them gingerbread men as a Christmas gift, and the smell felt like it had seeped into the walls of their dorm. It was a nostalgic smell, one that took him back to his childhood, new york and-

“Vernon?” Mingyu waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you even listening right now?”

He blinked, brought back from his thoughts. “Sorry, hyung. What?”

Mingyu could only let out a deep sigh, moving to place the bauble where he intended it to be. “You’re like this every Christmas. If you miss her so much, why don’t you just fly back?”

Vernon didn’t really know why he wasn’t flying back. He certainly could be, they were off work for the holidays and a plane ticket back wasn’t hard to find. He would be doing himself a favor, putting himself out of misery and finally seeing his childhood best friend. The thing was, he wasn’t really sure if Y/N wanted to see him. He shrugged. “I don’t miss her.” It was a lie and everyone in the room knew it. 

CHRISTMAS DAY 2003: 

Everyone who knew either of them would say they were smart kids for their age. Both only five, they whispered secrets to each other like little middle schoolers would on the playground. 

“My parents say I’m going to Korea.” Vernon whispered to Y/N as they watched a christmas movie. “Forever.” Vernon always had a dramatic, theatrical side to him, even as a child.

Y/N could only frown. “Forever? Why?” She couldn’t imagine her best friend moving anywhere without her. “Am I going too?” 

Vernon mirrored her frown on his own face. “I don’t know.” Sensing her sadness, he reached over and gave her a hug. “I’ll visit every year.” He promised. 

“Every christmas.” Y/N insisted. She had always loved christmas above all else. “So we can watch movies again.”

Vernon agreed. “Okay. Every christmas. It’ll be like-” He paused, his young mind searching for the word. “Tradition.” He smiled at her, proud of the big word. 

“Promise?” Y/N stared at him with wide eyes, reaching out with her pinky, extended. “Pinky promise me.” 

Vernon grasped her pinky with his, shaking it firmly. He felt like a grown up, making one of those important business deals. “I promise.” Turning back to the screen, he let out a whine when he realized they had missed the best part. “We missed the part where the grinch screams down the mountain.” He complained. “I wanted to watch that part.”

Y/N got up, searching for the remote. “I’ll turn it back.” 

Their dynamic never changed, even as they grew older. Vernon walked through life, Y/N following behind him with eyes filled with admiration, gently nudging the boy whenever he got distracted and began walking off-track. It stayed that way even with the distance, until one Christmas, Y/N woke up and Vernon had not returned. 

CHRISTMAS DAY 2016:

“Mom?” Y/N called as she walked slowly down the stairs. She had returned home from university for the holidays and was confused when Vernon wasn’t at his usual spot to welcome her home. “Where’s Vernon?” He was usually back from Korea by now.

She didn’t like the look of pity her mother was giving her. “He didn’t tell you, honey? He’s been so busy with work, looks like he can’t fly back to join us for christmas this year.”

She felt her heart sink. She had been looking forward to spending time with him, even if it was just a couple of days out of the year. “Oh.” Of course, she understood. His work was important and she was sure the kpop industry couldn’t be easy. “That’s okay. I guess he must’ve been too busy to tell me.” 

--

“What are you still doing here?” Joshua frowned at Vernon, who was lying down on his bed. “Shouldn’t you be in New York by now?” He was used to Vernon flying back to New York every christmas since they had met. 

Vernon let out a huff. “Not going back this year, Josh.” 

“Why not?” His friend pressed, confused. Vernon was usually so excited to go back. “Isn’t your friend going to be sad?”

“I can’t miss any more practice before our comeback. One Christmas should be fine.” Vernon explained, although his voice betrayed his disappointment. He had been looking forward to going back home, to be able to see Y/N again. He thought to himself that one christmas couldn’t hurt, right?

One Christmas missed turned into two. Then four. Then the timing felt too long and awkward and Vernon just never got the confidence to ever go back.

10 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024: 

Korea was beautiful underneath a sheet of snow. Y/N had landed last night, having made up her mind to give living in Korea a try. Ever since graduating university and landing a job as a screenwriter, her friends and family had always urged her to try working for the Korean film scene. 

She supposed she had always just avoided the country because of Vernon.

Her new job writing for some K-drama started after New Years. She thought maybe spending Christmas in a new place would bring back the mirth and good cheer the holiday used to give her, but she knew she was here for a different reason. A selfish and pathetic one. It burned her, that a part of her still wished to bump into Vernon after all these years. She knew he was doing well, SEVENTEEN was soaring through new heights and she had kept tabs on his ongoing success. It was the only way she kept going: his large internet presence sometimes made it feel like he never even left at all.

It hurt her the most that he could be doing so well without ever seeing her again.

Rounding the corner to the coffee shop, she rubbed her raw hands to regain heat. Ordering, she was relieved to find out she could still hold a conversation in Korean. It had gone rusty, the only people she ever used Korean with back home was Vernon’s dad and sister. 

“Hello?” Someone from behind her tapped her on the shoulder. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

She was greeted by a slightly taller, blond man, sporting black rimmed glasses and holding a cup of iced coffee. Her mind short circuiting a bit from the sudden Korean, she paused, trying to recollect her thoughts before replying. “I don’t think so?” 

The man’s eyes widened in sudden recognition. “You’re the girl in the Christmas photos!” He exclaimed with wonder, pointing at her as if they were long lost friends.

She squinted, giving him another look over. “Um..” She frowned, quite sure she didn’t know this man. 

“Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly at her, extending his hand for a handshake. “That probably came out wrong. You’re Vernon’s friend from New York, right? I’ve seen you in the pictures on his wall.” 

She blanched, all of a sudden feeling very light and disoriented. “I’m sorry.” She smiled politely, still racking her brain furiously for the guy’s name. “How do you know Vernon?”

“I’m Seungkwan.” He explained, dropping her hand. “Vernon’s bandmate.”

She let out a sound of realization. “Ah~” She knew who he was. “Seungkwan. Sorry, I didn’t expect you to have blonde hair now.” 

Chuckling at her shy admission, Seungkwan felt strangely sad to see the girl in Korea. “When did you come to Korea?” He asked, knowing Vernon would lose his shit if he found out they had been in the same location for a while. 

“I arrived just last night.” 

He left out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Okay, at least it hadn’t been very long. “You should come to our Christmas party.” He suggested, knowing Vernon would be there. “It’s being hosted at Coups hyung’s house this year, and everyone will be there.”

Y/N shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to make things weird.” She already caught on to the fact that Seungkwan knew all about her and Vernon’s falling out, or lack of one. 

“You wouldn’t.” He insisted. “You must come. I’d hate to see you spend Christmas by yourself.” 

It didn’t take much for Y/N to relent. She supposed a part of her had been looking for a chance to see Vernon again. “Alright. I’ll stop by and say a quick hi to everyone.” 

Seungkwan’s smile was contagious as he beamed, grabbing a napkin to scribble Scoups’ address onto it and handing it to her. “It’s at 7pm on the 24th. Bring a present- something small.” He hurriedly gave her all the details as he left, mumbling about being late for a company meeting and how lovely it was to finally meet Vernon’s mystery girl.

Holding the napkin in her still freezing hand, Y/N felt utterly shipwrecked as she watched Seungkwan leave. Nine days was enough to prepare her heart to see Vernon again, right?

12 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS 2024: 

The frost in the air bit at Y/N’s face and neck as she quickly rang the doorbell to Seungcheol’s home. It was smaller than she had expected it to be, homey and comfortably situated in between two other larger houses. 

“Y/N!” Seungkwan greeted her as he opened the door, tugging her in. “Oh, look at you. You must be freezing. Come in, come in.” Taking her coat from her and hanging it up, he beamed down at her. ���I’m so glad you actually came.” 

She bit back a smile, taking off her shoes. “I couldn’t turn down an invitation from Vernon’s friends.” 

“Vernon’s in the living room with the others.” Seungkwan pointed down the hall, directing her over. 

Y/N paused, loitering in the hallway between the door to the living room and the door to the kitchen. She felt strangely pulled towards the kitchen, knowing it’d be safe without the chance of a potential run-in with Vernon. Turning decisively towards the kitchen, she pretended not to hear Seungkwan’s deep sigh as he followed her in, knowing the boy was disappointed she had run away. 

“It’s the girl from Vernon’s photos!” Hoshi sprung off the kitchen island to greet her, handing her  a cup of mystery liquid. 

She sniffed it before cringing away at the strong liquor scent. “That’s me.” She mumbled, shoulders sagging a little. “Does he really still have photos of me up? 

Everyone in the kitchen nodded simultaneously. “It’s been on his wall since we were trainees.” Joshua informed her, his eyes holding a teasing glint. “Every time we move places he just puts it back up.” 

Y/N didn’t really know what to do with that information. “Oh.” She replied, looking down in her cup, thinking. “I didn’t know that.” 

Seungkwan let out a loud sigh once again. “You should go talk to him.” 

She looked up. 

“Please.” He added, his tone bordering on begging. “He’s been so grumpy. Especially during the holiday season. I got a pillow to the face for asking him a simple question yesterday.” He grumbled out, complaining about his moody roommate. 

“What did you ask him?” Joshua asked, mildly curious.

Seungkwan shrugged. “Just if he was going back to New York.”

“Of course he threw a pillow at you.” Joshua rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised he didn’t just deck you, with how you were antagonizing him. You know very well he hasn’t gone back in years.” 

Y/N watched the conversation silently, gagging quietly as she sipped the concoction Hoshi had handed her. She absorbed the information diligently, her eyes widening the more information she got on Vernon. Distance had turned him into a stranger - and now, well, she couldn’t really say she knew him at all. It was strange, having to admit someone she used to read like the back of her own hand was someone she now didn’t know at all. 

“I’m going to the living room.” She decided, having had enough of the topic. If she kept listening to them talk about Vernon’s struggles and heartache about leaving her in New York one more minute she might find herself leaving for the night. Being in the same room with Vernon was just going to be awkward silence anyways. She knew he wasn’t brave enough to approach her. At least not tonight. 

--

“Y/N!” 

It was Mingyu and Wonwoo who greeted her from the couch, the two of them in the middle of an intense round of what looked to be Mariokart. They waved at her from their place, inviting her over to sit next to them. She was painfully aware of Vernon’s eyes staring at her from his place on the rug, fingers busy with a random puzzle that was lying out. 

“Hi guys.” She smiled, sitting down, laughing when Mingyu pushed Wonwoo in an attempt to disrupt his driving. 

“We didn’t know you were in Korea for Christmas!” Mingyu exclaimed. “Good thing Seungkwan bumped into you when he did and invited you over.” 

She glanced at Vernon, who was doing his best to pretend like he wasn’t interested in their conversation. “Yeah. I moved here recently actually. Got a job writing for a TV show.” 

Vernon’s eyes widened as he fixed his stare against the white rug. 

“That’s cool.” Wonwoo smiled at Y/N, happy for her. “It’s good that you’re in Korea now.” He side eyed Vernon, frowning when he realized the boy hadn’t even spoken to Y/N. Nudging him with his foot, he gestured with his gaze. “Did you hear Vernon? Y/N got a job here.”

Vernon nodded stiffly before standing up. “I think Cheol hyung’s calling me, I’ll- I’ll go see what he wants.” And just like that he was gone, rushing out of the living room. 

Wonwoo looked apologetically at Y/N. “I’m sorry about that.”

She shrugged, although her heart had cracked at the movement. “It’s okay.” 

“Maybe now that you’re in Korea you guys can be friends again?” Mingyu suggested quietly, although a part of him wasn’t really certain about it. “Maybe?”

“Maybe.” She mumbled, taking another sip of her drink, feeling her face flush with heat. Anger or embarrassment, she couldn’t tell. 

Maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but Y/N could feel her lips start to loosen the more she sat with Mingyu and Wonwoo, the party heading later into the night. 

“You know I used to hate you guys.” She admitted all of a sudden, jolting both boys out of whatever conversation they were having. 

“What?” Wonwoo frowned. “Why?”

“I hated Vernon for choosing you guys over me.” She lowered her eyes to the floor, feeling ashamed. “I know it’s childish of me, but hating you guys was how I dealt with it. I couldn’t bring myself to hate Vernon for his own actions.” 

Mingyu looked at her with sad eyes as he patted her on the back gently. “I get that.” He reassured her, and she looked over at Wonwoo who was nodding as well. 

“Do you still hate us?” Wonwoo asked, his voice calm.

She shook her head. “No. So I guess I’m just-” She paused. “Confused now.”

She hated how pitiful their looks made her feel as she sat there, nursing her half finished drink, mind spinning. Perhaps it was time to leave her silly childhood infatuation with Vernon in the past. It seemed like he had done so already anyways. 

10 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS 2024: 

Vernon felt like throwing up the moment he saw Y/N enter the party. It felt like a vision, something he had conjured up within his own mind, until the others had greeted her and shattered his vision into reality. 

“Talk to her, you moron.” Seungkwan nudged him. He had retreated from the living room into the kitchen the moment Y/N had sat down with the others on the couch. It physically stung to be in the same room as her, with all the knowledge that he had failed her and their once cherished friendship. 

He took another gulp of his drink instead of answering Seungkwan. 

“She clearly still loves you, y’know.” The boy continued upon hearing Vernon’s silence. “Or else she wouldn’t be here. And didn’t you always tell us Y/N would follow you around like a puppy whenever you were back home as kids?” 

Screw Seungkwan and his amazing, awfully selective memory.

“So?” Vernon mumbled, rolling his shoulders back and feeling himself tense. “Things change.”

“You’ve changed.” 

Vernon stared at his friend, thrown off by the sudden harsh truths. “What?”

“I don’t think she’s changed at all, Vernon.” Seungkwan observed. “It’s you who’s changed and you who has to fix it.” He paused. “Or at least explain it to her. Why you don’t want to be friends anymore.” 

“I do want to be friends.” He stated plainly.

Seungkwan cut his eyes at him, exasperated. “Then tell her that. Jeez, bro. You suck at this.” 

“We’re swapping presents now!” Seungcheol poked his head out from behind the hallway door. “Everyone in the living room!” 

Vernon grabbed his present from the counter and headed in behind Seungkwan and Joshua, turning the box in his hands as he examined the poor wrapping job he had done last night. He had bought the most generic gift he could find, knowing it was going to be a random swap with the boys. The thing he hadn’t accounted for was Y/N showing up - and now it had thrown both his present and him off the game. 

“Grab a pair.” Seungcheol announced loudly to everyone in the room, as there was a mad scramble for partners. 

Vernon found himself standing alone in the midst of his bandmates all already coupled up, limbs tangled together in an awkward mad dash for a partner. His eyes met the only other person with a partner and he stifled a pained cry. 

“It looks like you and Y/N are exchanging gifts this year, Non.” Seungkwan shot him a large grin from his spot next to Mingyu.

He knew this had to be preplanned - fate couldn’t be this cruel, right?

“Go on.” Seungkwan poked him in the back, urging him to approach Y/N, who suddenly seemed to be very captivated by a nearby portrait of Seungcheol and Kkmua, placed on the shelf next to her. She stared at it intensely, although Vernon knew she was still hyper-aware of the fact that he was slowly walking towards her. She had that funny way of darting her eyes towards the person she was avoiding while not facing in their direction. 

“Y/N.” Her name sounded so foreign yet so familiar across his tongue as he spoke.

“Vernon.” 

Her voice felt like coming home. 

“Here.” He placed his gift in her hands as he took hers, turning it awkwardly in his hands. “What is it?” He asked, shaking it gently. 

The corners of her mouth lifted. “Telling you would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise.” 

“You said that last time too.” 

He watched her stiffen at his words and he immediately regretted bringing up the past. They both knew last time had been years ago. 

“I guess I did.” She replied stiffly, turning his gift in her hands. “What’s yours?”

“Thought you liked your presents to be a surprise?” He recalled, remembering how she used to whine that he must wrap her presents, when the teenage him had insisted that just putting it in a bag would be fine. 

“I do.” Her tone made it sound like she was just remembering that fact herself. She looked up and shot him an awkward smile. “I guess I don’t really know what to say.”

“Me either.” 

He could’ve sworn he saw her face drop at his words. 

They separated soon after, the uncomfortable silence taking over and suffocating them both out of the vicinity of each other. Vernon returned to his spot in the kitchen, picking at the pieces of takeout still leftover on the counter, listening to the others squabble over meaningless things. 

He watched Y/N leave, feet rooted by the hallway door and mouth firmly shut closed - he didn’t trust himself to say goodbye to her - he knew that if he had, a million unsaid words would have spilled out and the night would have ended terribly for the both of them. But it was the fear that kept him still most of all, as he watched her exchange numbers with Seungkwan, hugging the others and promising to keep in touch. He stayed as still as a statue as the door shut behind her. 

“You idiot.” Seungkwan turned to face him as soon as he locked the door. 

“Seungkwan.” Seungcheol’s warning tone made Vernon look at him. He was sending a strong warning glance at the boy. 

“What?” Seungkwan protested. “He is being stupid.” 

“I think I’m going to head back.” Vernon mumbled, grabbing his coat and hurriedly throwing it on, Y/N’s gift clutched tightly under his arm as he headed for the door. “Thanks for the party, Coups hyung.” He called behind him, shutting the door behind him and welcoming in the cool, biting winter air. 

He released the pent up breath that had been choking him all night and furiously wiped away the tears that had begun to form the moment he shut the door behind him. 

“Idiot.” He quietly chided himself. “So stupid.”

CHRISTMAS 2018: 

“Are you really never going back to New York?” Joshua prodded at his arm with an insistent jab of a finger. 

Vernon hummed in response. “There’s no point. My family prefers coming to Korea for the holidays anyways. They get to visit family here and everything.” 

“What about your girlfriend?”

Vernon turned his head to see Joshua sporting a shit eating grin. “You know she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Might as well be.” He shrugged, pointing at the various photos that featured her against his wall. “Look at your pathetic loving gaze at her in all of these photos. You’re not even looking at the camera in any of these.” 

Vernon frowned at his comment, taking a good look at the photos and realizing Joshua was right. “Doesn’t matter what I feel, hyung. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’ll never be if you don’t go back.” Joshua suddenly got serious, as he shifted in his seat to look at Vernon better. “Is there an actual reason why you won’t go back? I know we were too busy the last two years but this year we’re free.” 

Vernon stayed silent even though the answer was clear as day in his mind. He was scared, terrified even. Terrified he had hurt her by neglecting her due to his heavy schedules, that she would slam the door in his face if he tried to visit her. “I don’t want to see her hate me.” He finally spat out, cringing as he said it. 

Joshua let out a tiny noise of understanding. “So you’re avoiding her. Pretending so you don’t have to deal with the consequences.”

“When you put it like that you make me sound like an asshole.” 

Joshua gave him a look that bordered on pitiful. “I don’t know what to tell you, man.” 

“I’d rather remember her like this, y’know?” He said, pointing at the way she smiled at him in the pictures on his wall. “Instead of-”

“She might not hate you.” Joshua reminded him quietly from next to him. 

“I really, really doubt that, hyung.” 

5 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS: 

It wasn’t computing properly into Vernon’s head that you had just gotten him the one thing he’s been wanting all his life. 

He had been ogling the Novation Launchpad Pro that was currently sitting on his work table for the last hour, not really believing what he was seeing with his own two eyes. Unwrapping it had been a heart attack in of itself, as he opened up Y/N’s present to reveal the one thing that had been sitting on the top of his childhood wish list since he could remember. Even now, as a famous artist who could afford the splurge, he had never gotten it for himself, knowing it was a luxury and a purchase he didn’t necessarily need. 

“What the fuck, Y/N.” He muttered in disbelief, sliding his palm down his face as he continued to stare at the gift. It was fucking fantastic and exactly what he wanted, and it made him feel even worse about the whole situation. 

She might not hate you. He recalled the words Joshua had told him one time, Christmases ago. 

“Someone who hated me wouldn’t have gotten me this, right?” He said aloud to himself, reaching a timid hand out to fiddle with the launchpad controls. “How did she even know we’d be exchanging gifts anyways?” And how on earth does she know I never got myself one? In what felt like a split second decision, Vernon felt himself walking towards the door of his apartment, sliding his shoes on and grabbing his keys - only one destination in mind. He had to fix this, somehow. Because there was no fucking way she still hated him.

4 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS:

She would’ve complained that the sudden doorbell at 3am woke her up but she hadn’t really been sleeping. Y/N had been lying in bed with her eyes wide open since the moment she’d gotten home, the bag of chocolates and various snacks from Vernon left on her kitchen counter. She had stifled a laugh when she opened it - even till this day, Vernon’s go to gift was still the same. Chocolate and snacks can never fail, he had told her, defending his choice of gift. Especially when you don’t know the person too well. 

She supposed that line made sense for their situation too. 

“Vernon?” She squinted at the figure standing on her porch in the dark. “What are you doing here?” She rubbed her eyes, mildly wondering if she was dreaming. 

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he stared down at her. “You got me the launchpad.” 

She blinked. “Yeah.”

“How’d you know?”

She stared back at him, stunned at his bluntness and the randomness of the current setting. “You never shut up about it.” 

His mouth opened and closed again. She watched as he tried looking for words, his vocabulary ultimately failing him. 

“Come inside.” She said quietly, noticing how the harsh winter wind blew at his thin coat. Dragging him gently inside, she shut the door behind them both, turning around awkwardly to face him. She never thought she’d ever see him in his apartment - yet he looked so perfect.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, eyes darting around her place, taking it all in. “I know it’s late.” Glancing down at her pajamas, his lips quivered in a small smile. “Cute.”

“What?” She stared at him indignantly, completely thrown off by his behaviour. “Are you drunk?” She reached out a hand to touch his face, trying to check his temperature, but he caught her hand in his before she could reach. 

“I’m not drunk, Y/N.” He dropped her hand like it had burned him. 

“Then what are you here for?”

She watched him moisten his lips as he stalled for time. 

“I wanted to say sorry.” He finally said, his words tumbling out as if they had been held back for long enough. “I shouldn’t have cut you off like that.” 

She thought she’d have a more visceral reaction to the apology she had been waiting for all this time, but she didn’t. “Why are you saying this now? It’s been nearly ten years, Vernon.” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

Her shoulders sagged at his words and the sight of his dejected, ashamed face. “Why didn’t you come back? Or text me?” She asked him, pleading for an answer. 

He finally looked up and met her eyes. “I guess I was scared. I got busy one year and didn’t go back- and I neglected our friendship. And then-” He paused, his voice breaking. “I left, and time passed and staying away felt simpler than going back. No goodbye felt better than a bad one.” 

“It wouldn’t have been a bad goodbye.” 

He shook his head. “You hated me.” 

She looked away, remembering all the times she had cursed him for leaving her behind when she was younger. “Maybe. But never for long.” She mustered all her courage to tell him her next words. “I loved you too much to hate you for very long.” 

Vernon blinked at her. “You loved me?”

She hummed in response, still not quite looking at him. They stood there, by her door, in the dim lights of her apartment. 

“How did you even get my address?” She suddenly asked, forgetting he shouldn’t have known where to find her. 

Vernon stayed silent, his mind still reeling from the sudden love confession. She used to love me? 

“Vernon.” Y/N nudged him. 

“Oh.” He finally responded, although his own voice felt like light years away as his mind continued to reel. “I asked my sister. Didn’t know you guys still talked.” 

“Oh.” 

“You used to love me?” He asked, incredulous, not quite believing her words. “Why?”

She laughed, and the sound wrapped around Vernon like her hugs used to. “What do you mean, why? Of course I loved you. I followed you around like a lost kid our entire childhood.” 

“I loved you too, y’know.” 

Her smile dropped as she paused mid-laugh. “What?” 

He took a step closer to her, unsure where the sudden confidence was coming from. Vernon searched her eyes for some figment of affection, for truth, for the way she used to look at him when they were younger. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.” He finally admitted. “I definitely tried to, but your hold on me lasted through distance and time.” 

“Me too.” 

“What?”

“I never stopped loving you too.”

[sgiandubh]

Heughan’s voice is as smooth as his whisky. His latest venture is his multi-award-winning whisky and gin, ‘The Sassenach’, the Gaelic word for ‘outsider’. He feels he is an outsider to the industry, but the idea behind the name seems to have emerged from his mother, who is an English artist and was called ‘Sassenach’ when she arrived in New Galloway, and in Outlander, Jamie Fraser calls his wife Sassenach as s term of endearment. “The name is very special to me,” he tells me.

Perhaps the video he recorded at Everest Base Camp was for his mother ?She's on IG too and we know Sam loves her so much and sometimes doesn't call her Mum but Chrissie. Cait is not a Sassenach because she's Irish. Sam calling her the Original Sassenach it's because of her character, Claire and he recently stated Caitriona is nothing like Claire (SheKnows interview). Either way it's not a big deal so don't blame me. It's just a thought and cute anyway .

Dear Sassenach Anon,

Let me count the ways. Quoting from memory first we had ' She [C] is the original Sassenach' (at one of the seasons' premieres in London, where he brought a bottle and waxed lyrical to the press over it). Then, we had 'Sassenach means foreigner in Scots Gaelic and it's a term of endearment of Jamie Fraser, the character I am playing in OL, for his wife' (numerous times for various media outlets). Then, 'I am the Sassenach, I always felt as an outsider, but also Jamie Fraser's term of endearment for his wife, Claire' (ditto). And then 'the name emerged from his mother who is an English artist and was called ‘Sassenach’ when she arrived in New Galloway, and in Outlander, Jamie Fraser calls his wife Sassenach as s term of endearment.'

The Arbuturian is a well regarded online magazine, founded in 2009 and based in London. It looks and reads to me as The New Yorker's slightly more plebeian, younger cousin of sorts - check their masthead mascot...

... and remember (ROFLMAO) The New Yorker's Eustace Tilley, its illustrious inspiration:

By the way, Eustace Tilley, one of my favorite dandies, was itself inspired by an engraving of the French count Alfred d'Orsay, by a certain... James Fraser, sometime around 1830. I kid you not and yes, totally Clan Fraser, born near Inverness:

Can't make this shite up, even if you wanted, huh?

Anyways, back to your question and this little media outlet that could. Its targeted audience is, according to Wikipedia:

In sociological lingo, AB means an educated mid-to high level management audience, with a hefty disposable income to boot (usually more than 1 million £/year net revenue). All it takes is a short stroll through their Lifestyle pages: according to them, among this year's most sought after Xmas gifts gimmicks are a Turnbull & Asser silk pocket square (£75) for him or a £200 voucher for Fairmont Windsor Park’s Ultimate Diamond Facial, for her.

This interview's one and only raison d'être was to sound appealing to this particular dinkie (double income, no kids) Generation X audience, especially as far as his booze was concerned. For he was on booze promo mode here and he obviously twisted a bit whatever (I repeat: whatever) his real motivation behind the brand name might have been to the least controversial possible version. It's hard to question or throw shite at this mum version, let alone at a version involving a heroic single parent as Chrissie H, let alone at Christmas time. This allowed him, at the same time, to elegantly keep his personal life away and separate between business and private: something he should have been doing since the very start. But S is a sentimental man and a people pleaser - we all know that, don't we?

It was important for S to be featured in this London online magazine, read by the same people he was once serving drinks to, at parties. It's all about aspirations, social climbing and being a part of that crowd. Finally!

And you, darling, are a troll, despite your protesting. I nevertheless hope this answered your very transparently targeted question, in the spirit of Christmas. Otherwise, it would have landed in the bin, where it probably belongs.

PS: Caitriona is Caitriona, probably nothing like Claire, indeed and thank God! Being 'like Claire Fraser' was certainly not what prompted the coup de foudre - I daresay, quite the contrary. Sorry, darling, to pop your bubble, but this is not exactly how the real world works.

Later edit: if the entire Everest trek was something 'just for himself', then the recorded video was also 'just for himself'. The reason he posted it on Instagram was to probably childishly rejoice/brag he finally made it and damn the consequences. Use a bit of logic.

[penny00dreadful]

Santa Baby

Word count: 1.2k Rating: G Tags: Christmas fluff, getting together, Modern Setting, Santa Steve @steddieholidaydrabbles Day 25: Christmas

AO3

Let it be known that Eddie had never been one to make good decisions. Or consistent ones.

Which led him here, he guessed. Sitting at his computer at two in the morning, on what was technically Christmas Day now because he had sworn to himself he would go to bed at a reasonable time, he was just going to play a few more minutes of his game.

So when he heard something go bump in the night in the dark of his shitty little apartment, he had probably been a little too overtired and not exactly thinking straight.

He had poked his head out into his living room/dining room/kitchen, a small, tiny space with barely enough room to fit a small Christmas tree, but fit a Christmas tree it did, and the sight that met him had him wondering if he needed a carbon monoxide alarm or if he was just straight up hallucinating.

The colourful lights lit up a gentle glow against thick strong arms dusted with hair and moles, the polo shirt pulling tight against his muscles. Large thighs and an even larger ass wrapped up tight in light wash jeans, a hip popped out as this Adonis before him checked off a clipboard with a slightly bored expression over his face.

The entire vision was topped off with a Santa hat sitting perfectly upon a glorious head of hair, falling gently over his forehead, looking like every dashing leading man in every romantic Christmas movie Eddie had ever seen in his entire life. 

He will blame his tiredness for what fell out of his mouth, almost in a whisper.

“Is it my birthday?”

The guy checking off a clipboard in front of his dinky little Christmas tree glanced up at the sound, completely unsurprised to see Eddie there. Giving him the once over with an appreciative smirk pulling at those tempting full pink lips, taking in the pyjama pants slung low on his hips and his cropped sleep top, the guys eyes trailed back up to Eddie’s face just before he turned back to the task at hand.

The only lasted for a second though, before the guy whipped back around in shock, staring Eddie straight in the eye.

Eddie just raised his hand and gave him a dumbfounded little wave.

The guy blinked at him.

“You can see me?”

Eddie blinked back.

“Am I not supposed to be able to? You’re not exactly the most cat of cat burglars, dude.”

“Cat burglar?” The guy turned fully to him and Eddie was able to see the polo was pulled tight over a strong chest, a thick thatch of hair poking out over the top and his mouth began to water. “I’m not a fucking cat burglar, man I’m-”

The guy hesitated.

“You’re what?” Eddie grinned to himself, unable to stop the smile coming over his face or the step forward he took, remembering the appreciative look the guy gave him. “My own little Christmas present?”

The guy shook his head, his eyes taking in Eddie’s body all over again.

“What then?” Eddie asked. “Christmas elf?” He followed suit, taking in the full, thick muscled form of the guy in front of him shamelessly. “Shouldn’t you be wearing tights?”

“Not an elf, no. More of the big guy.”

“Big guy is right.” Eddie muttered appreciatively. “Wait… what then, like… You’re Santa?”

The guy shrugged, clipboard all but forgotten now, resting in the hand that was propped casually on that popped hip.

“It’s a family business. I’m taking over from my grandfather.”

Eddie nodded, well aware he should be freaking out more for a variety of reasons but not being able to find it within himself to care much as he stepped closer, the guy tracking him with bright eyes.

“Usually people take over from their parents, or so I’m told.”

“Yeah well, my dad never really had the heart for it.”

Eddie hummed to himself, telegraphing his movements in the hope he didn’t startle the man in front of him. He reached a hand out and when the guy didn’t flinch or back away, Eddie brushed his fingers lightly through the coarse hair peeking out over his polo.

“And how about you, sweetheart? Do you have the heart?”

“Steve.”

“Eddie.”

“I know.” Steve gave his clipboard a little shake, the green foiled holly and red berries bordering the pages, glittering against the lights of the tree and he happily let Eddie fondle his chest hair.

“This might be a little forward, Steve,” Eddie grinned again, tightening his fingers into the chest hair. “But I don’t suppose you need a Mrs. Clause tonight?”

Steve smirked back, his eyebrow cocking up. “I already have a Mrs. Clause-”

“Oh.” Eddie’s grin dropped along with his heart, and he pulled his fingers away but he was stopped by Steve’s hand wrapping around his.

“She’s a lesbian, though.”

“Oh?” Eddie could tell his confusion was radiating off of him. This was not like any Christmas story he’d ever heard before.

Steve shrugged.

“There was a clause in the Santa contract. I was told I’d need a Mrs. Clause in order to take up the position. Marrying my best friend seemed like the best option.”

Eddie tightened his fingers around Steve’s while Steve continued to watch him, biting his lip.

“While I would love to take you up on your offer, Eddie,” Steve had a regretful look in his puppy dog eyes. “I’m on the clock right now and ethically I don’t know if it would be a good idea to fool around with you tonight.”

Eddie shrugged to himself, almost accepting this was some kind of insane fever dream and he was going to wake up with the shape of his keyboard indented into his cheek.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying, right?”

Steve opened his mouth to answer, a sad smile dancing on his face but was interrupted by an insistent buzzing and overly cheerful jingle coming from his pocket.

“Shit, I have to go.”

Eddie brought Steve’s hand to his mouth, placing a kiss along the back.

“That’s alright, sweetheart, you go and bring joy to all the little kiddos.”

Steve smiled at him again.

“It was nice meeting you, Eddie.”

Eddie blinked his eyes open, somehow inexplicably bundled up in his own bed, the bright winter morning sunlight nearly blinding him through the crack in his blinds as he rolled over.

That had been one of the weirdest sober dreams he had ever had in his life.

Maybe this dry spell was getting to be too dry if he was dreaming up hot men appearing in his apartment and calling themselves Santa.

Though if it had been a dry spell dream, surely he would have actually gotten to at least kiss Steve rather than just-

Eddie paused as his hand brushed a piece of paper on the side of his bed.

He picked it up, unfolding it and knew his eyes were almost comically wide as he saw the same foiled holly and berries bordering the paper.

The grin that split over Eddie’s face and the disbelieving laugh that tore out of his throat did nothing to stop his own scrambling for his phone to punch in the number as fast as humanly possible.

AO3

As always, my biggest thanks and much love to @hbyrde36 for the beta work with this and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation!

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | 9.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 1.2k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, takes place sometime before the NAS conference!, it's a lil sad ngl - lowkey giving unrequited love vibes

—a/n: my loves, merry christmas eve/merry christmas <33 i wish you all a very happy holidays! i'll try my best to get the space between us three - 03 up this friday, but with xmas and all, it might be a tad bit late. 😅 ty for your support and your patience, i'm v grateful for every single one of you!! ily 💕

Jiung has always cared about you since he met you. He's always been good about it, too. Never suffocating you, while at the same time making himself available whenever you needed him. He was there when you cried over your exes and ex-flings that didn't deserve shit, he was there when you just needed to get away from the house. 

He was there when you were trying to figure out what to do with your life— helping you brainstorm and listening to all your if's, and's, what if's. He was there when you needed someone to hold your hair back when you were too damn drunk. He was there when you felt too high and contemplated life when you took a hit of a blunt at a party.

He was there when you doubted yourself, when you just needed someone to reassure you that you were doing enough.

"Sorry. I got caught up with some stuff in lab." You rush over to the table, plopping your things down with a loud sigh. Jiung had been waiting for you at dinner for close to 30 minutes, his texts and calls going unanswered after a simple 'running late - be there soon' text from earlier. It was most likely a mix of you being busy, along with the crap service in the basement. 

"All good. You okay?"

"Yeah, I am." You smile at him, a little flustered. You actually were caught up with some project-related things; it was one of those days where things weren't going your way and you were running into every issue you could possibly run into. "Today was just not my day in lab."

"What happened?"

"What didn't happen?" You sigh. "I might ask for your help later with something. I'm not sure I can figure out what's wrong, but you might know some good routes to take." Jiung nods. "But, I don't wanna think about it right now. Need food." You pout.

"Okay, let's get some food in you then." Jiung chuckles. "Why don't you get your food first while I stay with our things?" You nod.

"I'll be back." The NAS conference was coming up soon, but it felt too busy to be excited about the event. Things were ramping up in both labs, and even though a lot of your time had been spent with San, you were busy trying to push your work in the lab in order to help Sunwoo add to his poster presentation. It was a bit of a risk, and you weren't sure the both of you would be able to pull off good, updated results in time— but the universe seemed to be on your side despite all the trials and tribulations you had to endure.

While grabbing your food in the dining hall, a call comes through on your phone and it's San. You can't help but smile to yourself, quickly swiping right to answer. You press the phone against your ear while you continue browsing the various options for tonight's dinner, biting your lip when San greets you so sweetly like he always does on the other line.

You had been planning to hang out with Jiung at the apartment after dinner, being in each other's company like before. Catching up on shows. Plans will probably change now.

"Hi baby. Hope your day wasn't too bad. Are you busy tonight?" San asks.

"It was okay. Ran into some issues in lab but nothing that can't be fixed. I'm at dinner with Jiung and we're probably gonna just hang out at the apartment after."

"I'm sorry, love. As long as you're okay?"

"Mhm." You reply in a sing-song tone. 

"What were you and Jiung gonna do tonight?"

"Hang out and chill. Probably put on one of ours shows we need to catch up on."

"I see. That sounds fun, love."

"Mhm." You repeat. "Why, what about you?"

"Nothing. Just be my old man self at home." You snort.

"You said it, not me."

"Yeah, yeah." He laughs. "I just got done working out and was hoping you'd come over."

"I can."

"Sweetheart." He laughs. "You should enjoy your time with Jiung."

"I can always see him whenever and wherever. I can't necessarily do that with you." You slightly pout. Jiung searches the dining hall to see if there are other familiar faces grabbing dinner right now. His eyes land back on you, brows knitting at the way you're talking on the phone and the little mannerisms he's picking up on.

The way you're preventing your smile from getting too big.

Speaking shyly.

Pacing around the room but not really looking at the dinner options.

You're definitely occupied, and Jiung had been noticing for awhile now. He just wasn't sure what it was, and he didn't wanna ask nor did he wanna assume. He figured you'd tell him eventually, but time seems to be passing and instead of you telling him everything like you normally do—

He knows nothing and you seem to be more distant than he's used to.

You hang up the phone after nodding a few times, finally approaching the staff to place your order. You grab your container, along with those chocolate chip cookies you love so much before swiping your ID card and heading back to the table.

"Sorry, Jiung. I gotta go after dinner. Gotta fix up this mess in the lab." You plop back down onto the seat.

"I can come with you? We can take a look together."

"It's okay. I'll just text you about it if I can't figure it out."

"Do you want me to come by later instead then?" You shake your head.

"I'll be there for awhile." Jiung cocks a brow up. "I promise it's all good. I'll let you know if anything comes up." Jiung shrugs. "I'm sorry."

"Mm, it's okay. We can always catch up on our shows later on." He gives you a small, reassuring smile; one that masks how sad he feels deep down. How hurt he feels after the umpteenth time of being put on the back burner. He gets up and heads over to grab his food, internally sulking at not being able to spend time with his bestfriend yet again.

Now, he doesn't necessarily feel like he's there. Not like he used to be. And not by his own choosing, no—

It's because you seem to be distancing yourself more and more each day and he's not sure why.

He's never seen you like this.

Or maybe, he's just not good at navigating this.

Luckily though, he's a bit sidetracked when he returns to the table— eating a rice bowl that he ordered just to order. You update him about things in lab, and the both of you are able to share a good conversation about how things are going, stories about your friends. You laugh and crack jokes with him in your usual fashion. He teases and pokes fun in his usual fashion.

It feels like the old days.

And it makes it hard for him because he sees the same person he's cared for, loved, after all these years.

Yet, there's something about you that's different and he can't necessarily pinpoint it.

He can only hope you're okay, and that you're happy. Doing the right thing. Taking care of yourself properly.

When the end of dinner comes, he still doesn't know what about you is different or who is making you different. He's left standing there, watching as you speed off to the Choi Lab; dealing with the awful, lonely feeling that punches him in the gut every time you part ways without saying much lately.

You don't feel like you're there anymore, and it's unfortunate.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling

[rae2velaris]

2024 Was a Great Year for Elriels

The end of the year is approaching, and unfortunately, there's no announcement yet, but Elriels definitely have plenty to be grateful for this year.

On the contrary... (Quick rant...I'm allowed one a year)

The other side has enjoyed complaining and discrediting articles and large companies commenting on Elriel...

Why?

I suppose it's because their side of the fandom has nothing new to talk about with their ships?

All they have are:

Commissioned art pieces paid for by themselves (great for the artists and Elriels do commissioned pieces to so... touche)

Screen Rant articles. This website is a way for free lance writers to make some money. Honestly, if you want to dive into them, go ahead, but these article centralize on the writers' opinions and click bait/SEO. And no, I'm not going to hunt down these writers' information to discredit. People are allowed to have their opinions and make money however way they want. Just at least take a moment to look at the titles for Screen Rant articles vs. TIME, TODAY, and E! News. You'll see a difference going forward in this post.

Additonal unnecsssary "official" weeks/ "spontaneous" days for ships and characters due to the belief that Elriel fans ruin everything

Anyways, let's dive into this year's pro Elriel content ❤️

January 30th, 2024

TIME- Time magazine is a widely cited resource and maintains high standards of journalism. In this particular article, only Elain and Azriel are mentioned as a possibility for the next ACOTAR book.

January 30th, 2024

TODAY Show- A sit-down interview with SJM. (This particular part of the interview I condensed together on Canva because of the limited pictures we can include on Tumblr) Below, Sarah talks about fate, the idea of exploring rejecting mates, and free will. (Lucien and Elain?) She also discusses her characters ending up with someone who offers growth and joy. (Azriel and Elain?) SJM can't tell us in black and white that she's doing this, but COME ON people. There's a reason she discusses it.

Oh, and the TODAY show decided to like/comment on Elriel comments ONLY.

Side Note: If interested, take a look at this tumblr post for a lovely, thorough breakdown. ( @courtofblooming )

April 19th, 2024

Guilty As Sin Instagram Story from SJM- Sarah loves her little crumbs, and this song honestly encapulates Elriel. We unfortunately don't get confirmation from SJM, but I'll include some of the lyrics for you to judge.

This cage was once just fine

Am I allowed to cry?

I dream of cracking locks

Throwing my life to the wolves

Or the ocean rocks

Crashing into him tonight

He's a paradox

I'm seeing visions, am I bad?

Or mad? Or wise?

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh

Only in my mind?

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh what a way to die

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

What makes it even better? Audible and Spotify commented ONLY on Elriel posts in relation to this song. You won't find these particular companies commenting on any other ships of the fandom.

Side Note: The other side of the fandom tries to discredit these influential companies by stating the person behind the account doesn't represent the whole company or just enjoy saying the companies comments aren't credible. Multi-million dollar companies are NOT going to waste their time and reputation on fanon created ships. These companies are business smart and only invest in what's profitable. There's a reason they make millions...ELRIEL is profitable due to canon evidence. Simple as that.

December 2nd, 2024

Bloomsbury and SJMaas Updates announce that the audiobooks are now available on Spotify- Bloomsbury, SJM Updates, and Spotify are in close collaboration with each other. Makes those Spotify Elriel comments even more satisfying. ❤️

December 9th, 2024

SJM 2024 Author of the Year Spotify Video- Although we got little news for the coming spring about audible books, us as a fandom had a lovely time dissecting the video. Yet again, Spotify only commented on Elriel comments.

Side Note: Take a look at these tumblr posts for an inciteful look into the significance of tea cups/Elain ( @offtorivendell ) and an excellent interpretation of the Spotify video. ( @wingedblooms )

December 13th, 2024

E News!- I know this particular article has ruffled some feathers, but it's entertaining none the less! Gotta love the nod to Azriel's wingspan. IYKYK (And yes, it's credible... it's owned by NBC Universal... the same company that owns TODAY and 33% stakes of Hulu through Comcast (Comcast owns NBC Universal, and the stakes are through NBC Universal). I only add Hulu due to the ACOTAR TV series being developed through Hulu.)

December 17th, 2024

Goodreads- This is just a little star on top of the tree, but it's great to know that ACOFAS made it into the top 10 most read overall books this year. (Interesting how ACOSF didn't make it...) Notably, ACOFAS is the bridge for future spin-offs. (Also interesting how a particular character isn't seen in ACOFAS...)

(ACOFAS pictures taken from @psychologynerd post linked below)

In Conclusion...

As an Elriel, I've truly appreciated the continuous confirmations for Azriel and Elain for the future ACOTAR 5 book in small, simple ways. Even better knowing that Spotify and Audible have outwardly commented on ONLY Elriel posts.

As the year 2024 ends, I'll treasure these little nuggets of positivity until the announcement day! I have a feeling 2025 will hold some excellent news for the fandom. Until then, have a wonderful holiday season and a Happy New Year!

P.S.

If you know of anymore pro Elriel content from this year, by all means, write a comment. 🥰

[anonymousewrites]

Apple of My Eye Chapter Fourteen

Harry Hook x Child of Snow White! Reader

Chapter Fourteen: Yo, Ho (A Pirate's Life for Me)

Summary: (Y/N) and Harry talk, and Mal gets some unusual "allies" to defeat Audrey.

            Harry laughed wildly as he sped the motorcycle down the small alleys of the Isle. (Y/N) held onto him tightly to avoid falling, watching people and buildings zip past. There was no way Evie, Jay, or Carlos were catching up to them, so they had resigned themself to going along for the ride. It wasn’t as if Harry was going to crash the bike and hurt himself, too, so they felt relatively safe for now.

            “Is it me or the bike that’s got your heart racin’, Highness?” said Harry as they turned a corner tightly and (Y/N) grabbed him tighter.

            “Is it my presence making you show off, or is your driving this bad because you have a death wish?” responded (Y/N).

            “A pirate’s gotta show off when someone charmin’ is around.” Harry applied the brakes abruptly, and they came to a screeching halt in an alley. “But I don’t want to scare ya off.” He hopped off the bike and offered a hand. “Highness?”

            (Y/N) smiled, rolled their eyes, and took his hand as they swung their leg over the bike. They stepped to the ground easily. But Harry still held their hand. (Y/N) looked at him, not making a move to step back. They looked down at their hands, back up at one another, and pulled their hands back.

            “What happens now?” said (Y/N). “Am I being kidnapped again?” They chuckled. “If that’s the plan, I’m going to have to disappoint. We’re a little too busy with other problems, so no ransom this time.”

            Harry grinned. “No kidnapping this time, Highness. I’m not ‘unoriginal,’ remember?”

            “I’m still ‘Highness,’ ” said (Y/N), smirking.

            “I told you, if it pleases you, we can upgrade to ‘love,’ ” said Harry, grinning.

            “Tempting, but I don’t get much out of it,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “You could,” teased Harry, leaning on the wall.

            (Y/N) laughed, scoffed, and rolled their eyes. Harry’s smile just widened upon seeing their clear amusement. He liked making them smile.

            “Okay, seriously, Harry—”

            “First name basis? I can work with that.”

            “—Why did you take me?” said (Y/N).

            “…The rose.” Harry looked at (Y/N) and tilted his head. “From that Cotil-whatever. It was my sash.”

            (Y/N) looked at him. “It was.”

            “Why?” said Harry.

            “Because you and Uma are right,” said (Y/N). “It’s unfair that you were left behind on the Isle with so many others while Mal, Evie, Jay, and Carlos were here for so long.” They looked at Harry. “I wanted you to know that I was being honest when I said I wanted to help more VKs. I wasn’t going to forget that there were more people to help.”

            Harry looked at them, and he smiled slightly. “You are an interesting royal, Highness.”

            “You’re an interesting pirate,” replied (Y/N).

            “I try to be,” said Harry, grinning.

            “You succeed,” said (Y/N), smirking. “Other than the kidnapping stuff. That’s cliché.”

            “How can I make it more original?” Harry took a step closer.

            “Certainly not by flirting with me, I’ve read a hundred books like that,” said (Y/N), playfully stepping away from me.

            “Ya like pirates?” said Harry, leaning in and tilting his head.

            “Oh, sure,” said (Y/N). “I like stories where they get beaten by valiant, brave sailors.” They smiled brightly.

            “Pity. I like the ones where they win,” said Harry, smirking.

            “A true pity,” said (Y/N).

            “And if it was a pirate like meself?” said Harry.

            “We’ll see,” said (Y/N).

            “Will we?” said Harry, his grin softening slightly.

            “Second chances apply to everyone,” said (Y/N). Their gaze was intense as they smiled at him. “And I forgive.”

            “Do you?” said Harry.

            “I’m going to forgive you for kidnapping me twice, so, yes,” said (Y/N), laughing.

            “Suppose I should let ya go so ya can forgive me,” said Harry.

            “Please and thank you, I am quite busy,” said (Y/N).

            Harry bowed. “As you wish, Highness.” He gestured to the exit of the alley. “Out here, go to starboard, you’re home free.”

            “Thank you,” said (Y/N), smiling. They walked to the end of the alley, paused, and looked back. From a pocket, they pulled out a familiar red sash. “When you see me again, you can have this back.”

            Harry grinned. “It’s a deal.”

            (Y/N) laughed and turned the corner.

l

            (Y/N) leaned against the wall at the barrier of the Isle. They brightened when they saw the VKs coming towards them. Evie’s eyes widened.

            “(Y/N)!” Evie ran to them and hugged them. “You’re alright!”

            “We were about to scour the Isle for you,” said Carlos.

            “How did you get away?” said Jay.

            “They were more interested in having fun with the bikes than kidnapping me,” said (Y/N). “Harry was just amusing himself by annoying you.”

            “Sounds like him,” said Mal.

            Evie raised an eyebrow at (Y/N), who just smiled.

            “Did we get the ember?” said (Y/N).

            “We did,” said Mal, holding it up. (Y/N) smiled in relief.

            “Let’s get out of here,” said Jay. He pressed the remote in his hand, and the barrier opened to let them walk through.

            After they stepped through, the ember lit up, coming to life in the magical air. It sparked, and strands of Mal’s hair took on a blue tint.

            “Whoa. You got a little Hades thing going on,” said Evie.

            “That thing packs a punch,” said Carlos.

            “Hopefully it’ll ‘punch’ the sense into Audrey,” said (Y/N).

            “Whoo!”

            The VKs jumped and turned around. Two familiar pirates had leapt through the closing barrier and rolled to their feet. (Y/N)’s eyes widened. It was Harry and Gil.

            “We made it, bro!” said Gil excitedly.

            “We made it!” said Harry, and the pair hugged before grinning wildly at the other VKs and (Y/N). “Hey, guys, we’re just coming for a wee visit.” They stepped forward, and Carlos and Jay blocked their path. “Oh, come on, I told Highness we would see each other again. I’m just keepin’ my word.”

            “How flattering, you’re sneaking out to see me,” said (Y/N).

            “Who else would I see, Highness?” said Harry, grinning.

            “Get back inside the barrier, Hook,” said Jay, pushing him back.

            “Make me, Jay,” said Harry, shoving him back.

            Jay stumbled into Mal, and she accidentally dropped the ember. It clattered to the ground and bounced off the bridge.

            “No!” said Mal, eyes wide.

            “Oh!” gasped (Y/N), trying to reach for it and missing.

            A tentacle reached out and snatched the ember. Everyone’s eyes widened. A familiar face rose from the water. Uma grinned and waved up at the group.

            “Drop something?” she said with a smirk.

            “It can’t get wet!” said Mal. “Give it back before it goes out.”

            “Uma?” exclaimed Harry and Gil.

            “That’s my name,” said Uma. She submerged herself.

            “No!” cried Mal.

            A whirl of water shot into the air and fell across the bridge.

            “Hi, boys,” said Uma, grinning at her crew. She was in a human form and a captain’s uniform again. She still held the ember, glowing, in her hand.

            “Welcome back!” Harry grinned.

            “Uma, you swam off and forgot all about us.” Gil had a disappointed expression as he spoke.

            “Yeah. Planning her revenge, no doubt,” said Mal, crossing her arms.

            “It’s not all about you, Mal,” scoffed Uma. “I was looking for a hole in the barrier to let everybody out. And you know what I found, boys? It’s way better out there than we thought. There’s this thing that looks like a furry rock, called a coconut. And fish so big you could dance on their back.” She smiled wide, ecstatic to share her discoveries with her crew. She glared at Mal and her crew. “And they’ve been keeping it all to themselves.”

            “Whatever.” Mal rolled her eyes. “Uma, I need that to break a spell.” She held out her hand.

            “Cast by Audrey, Sleeping Beauty’s daughter,” said Carlos.

            “So the good guy is the bad guy?” Uma raised a brow and chuckled.

            “Mean girl to evil girl pipeline,” said (Y/N), sighing.

            “Well, I might not give it back,” said Uma, pouting at Mal. “Let’s see what happens.”

            “Uma, this is not the time for games!” snapped Mal. “People’s lives are in danger!”

            Uma just laughed, and Harry and Gil grinned. Mal was pretty easy to read.

            “Guarantee me that every single villain kid who wants to can get off the Isle,” said Uma.

            Nothing selfish. Just asking for freedom. (Y/N) almost smiled. It seemed Uma had grown a little. (Y/N) had been right, she wanted what was best for the Isle.

            “I can’t do that,” said Mal.

            “Can’t do that?” Uma walked to the edge of the bridge and held the ember over the water. “Well, how about now?”

            “Deal!” said Mal instantly. “Deal.”

            Uma pretended to drop the ember and catch it. Everyone gasped.

            “Uma,” said (Y/N). “Her word is good. We were going to bring over VKs more frequently, too, so this is just…faster.” They smiled to try to assuage the tension.

            Uma looked at them and then her crew. Gil shrugged, and Harry nodded. He believed (Y/N)’s words.

            “I”ll still keep this for the time being.” Uma pocketed the ember. She grinned at Mal’s frustration. “Because if you think I trust you to save the world on your own, think again…This is a job for pirates.”

            “Yeah,” said Gil and Harry, grinning.

            “We can always go back to hating each other when this is over,” whispered Jay to Mal.

            “Fine.” Mal was furious.

            “Where are our bikes?” demanded Jay.

            “Oh, yeah. We crashed them,” said Gil brightly.

            Harry imitated an engine, mimed it falling, and made an crashing sound. He winked at (Y/N).

            “Here’s a thought,” said Evie, hands on her hips. “We could try to be friends. Put our history behind us and celebrate our differences.”

            “We’d be pretty strong together,” agreed (Y/N).

            The three pirates looked at the other VKs. All of them looked skeptical.

            “Who wants gum?” offered Evie, popping a piece into her mouth.

            Uma turned away. “Let’s go.”

            “No?” Evie rolled her eyes.

            (Y/N) patted her on the shoulder.

            “Ah,” said Mal as Uma took a step. “No. I’m in charge. Let’s go.”

            Uma rolled her eyes, and they both started walking at the same time. Evie and (Y/N) sighed and followed the group.

             “This is going to be trouble, isn’t it?” said (Y/N).

            “Definitely,” said Evie.

l

            The VKs and (Y/N) walked through the grounds of Auradon Prep. Soft snores echoed around them. People were slumped over tables and benches, completely asleep. The sleeping spell had hit everyone hard.

            “They’re asleep. Everyone,” said Mal as she went through her contacts on her phone. No one was responding. “I can’t get Ben.”

            “Or Dizzy or Doug,” said Mal.

            “Or Jane,” said Carlos.

            “Fairy Godmother isn’t responding,” said (Y/N). “Not good.”

            “Is that Auradon Prep?” said Celia, staring at the academy. Her eyes went wide.

            “Yeah. When everybody wakes up, you’re going to love it,” said Carlos.

            “Yes,” said Celia, fist pumping the air.

            “Everything is so…” Gil stared around him.

            “Freaky,” said Jay.

            “Green,” said Gil. “You have leaves on your trees. And what are those colored things on the bushes?”

            “Flowers?” said Jay.

            “Flowers are pretty,” decided Gil.

            While Gil admired the new plants and fresh food, Harry admired wallets. He grinned as he pulled a wallet from a sleeping student.

            “I believe I deserve some compensation for my muscle, my wiles, and my role in this endeavor,” said Harry, smirking.

            “Harry.” (Y/N) stood over him and put their hands on their hips.

            Harry sighed dramatically. “I’ve got to do some piracy.”

            (Y/N) laughed. “More like pickpocketing.”

            “Ya wound me, Highness,” said Harry. “I am a proper pirate, through and through.” He bowed. He smirked. “Got the swords and wit to prove it.”

            “Is that what you call your shameless flirting?” said (Y/N).

            “Shameless?” Harry raised a brow and chuckled.

            “Is uncontrollable a better word?” said (Y/N).

            “No,” said Harry. He leaned on a tree and winked. “I only flirt with the handsome royals.”

            “Huh. Ben’s taken. I feel sorry for you,” teased (Y/N).

            “Benny ain’t as handsome as you, Highness,” said Harry.

            (Y/N) smiled slightly and fought back their blush. “Still trying to charm me?”

            “I guess I am shameless,” said Harry.

            (Y/N) laughed.

            “Dude!” Carlos ran towards the dog, thankfully alive.

            “He’s awake?” said Evie.

            “Sleeping spells don’t work on animals,” said (Y/N).

            “Dude, do you know what happened here?” asked Carlos.

            “Yup. Audrey showed up. She put everybody to sleep,” said Dude. “And then she turned some of them to—”

            “Guys.” Evie’s eyes widened as she found just what Audrey had done. Statues. There were so many people they recognized frozen in stone. “She turned them to stone.”

            “Alright,” said Mal. “We have to stay on our toes.”

            “Look, since we’re here, let’s check the school,” said Uma, gesturing to Auradon Prep.

            “No,” said Mal decisively. “Audrey went straight for the crown, so, I think it’s safe to assume that she’s gonna go for Ben and his castle next. That’s where we’ll go.”

            “Says who?” said Uma.

            “Says me,” said Mal.

            “Says you. What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “Guys,” said Evie before they could start arguing again. It was an ongoing battle.

            “To the castle,” said Mal, walking off.

            Uma and her crew huffed but followed.

l

            “Ben!” shouted Mal as they walked through the halls of the castle.

            “This way,” said Dude, tracking Ben’s scent as best he could.

            “Ben could be asleep anywhere,” said Mal, groaning.

            “Or turned to stone,” said Celia.

            Evie covered Celia’s mouth as Mal’s eyes widened in panic.

            “Ben!” called (Y/N).

            “I got a scent. Very pungent cologne,” said Dude. “Easy to track. Follow me, people.”

            “Thanks, Dude,” said Carlos.

            “FYI, I give great cuddles,” said Dude, eager to get affection from the newcomers.

            “Cool,” said Gil. “I never had a pet growing up. Well, except for the elk head in Dad’s man cave, but that wasn’t—”

            “Hold up.” Uma put up a hand. She stared at marks on the wall.

            (Y/N) peered closed. They were claw marks. “That can’t be good,” they murmured.

            “Oh, Ben…” said Mal softly.

            “We’ll find him,” said (Y/N).

            “Follow me,” said Dude.

He led them into a presentation hall where suits of armor stood at the walls, swords hung on crests, and a dais for speeches and shows of armor stood in the middle.

            “Ben!” said Mal in frustration.

            Harry admired the suits of armor and the swords. “Would ya duel me with these?”

            “Why not,” said (Y/N). “We save Auradon; we duel.”

            Harry grinned.

            “I bet you lost some sleep thinking about me on the loose?” said Uma, smirking at Mal.

            “No,” said Mal. “Dragons don’t really lose sleep. I wonder what fried octopus tastes like?”

            “Okay, why don’t we not do this?” said Evie.

            “We’re celebrating our differences,” said Uma.

            A laugh echoed through the room. Pink smoke filtered from within a suit of armor.

            “I believe we’re being challenged,” said Harry.

            “We’re getting that duel now,” said (Y/N).

            “Let’s split up and look for Audrey.” Uma and Mal were too busy fighting to listen to them.

            “That makes absolutely no sense!” said Mal. “Unless you give me my ember, she’s going to spell you.”

            “Girls!” shouted Harry as the armor moved.

            “We have a situation here!” said (Y/N).

            “Do you like a prince, Mal?” said Audrey’s voice from the armor. “How about a knight in shining armor? Or knights?”

            All the armor began to move. (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. It was time to go up against Audrey.

Taglist:

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@lunalixya

@roo024

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[galaxyedging]

This is for the Pedrostories Secret Santa Event.

For the lovely @baronessvonglitter

WC: 5.15k

Warnings: Smut. I don't want to give anything away, so proceed with caution.

Summary: The promotion to VP comes with a clause. Will a year in a small town change our readers' plans?

Featuring Joel Miller and Dave York

Christmas In Paris

“Honeymire, as its name suggests, used to be too waterlogged to expand on when the land was settled.” The opening that sounded great in your head doesn't feel right as you say it out loud. “Now that our surveys show that this is no longer the case, we're hoping to bring new life to the town.”

The rest of the presentation runs smoothly. All the data is there. It all points to a great investment opportunity, with high returns. Still, you can see the investors are on the fence. It's been a while since you'd pitched anything in such a rural location. Maybe it was time to switch things up.

“Look, I have to be honest, this goes beyond great projected profits for me.” Like a guarantee of becoming VP of Sales with a huge raise. “I grew up in a town like this. The memories of being part of a community and something bigger than myself helped me get where I am today.” Everyone knowing my business and thinking they had a right to talk about it drove me to the city. “This isn't just an opportunity to make money, it's an opportunity to make a community whole again, to bring new life to the area and give others a fresh start to theirs somewhere they can call home.”

The investors loved the talk of home and community. 

Unfortunately, a little too much you think as you open the curtains in the place that had become your home for the last year. The investors handed over way more cash than the company had been expecting, and that figure had been staggeringly high. Your boss had offered you the promotion the next day but with a caveat, you were to move to the town to oversee everything personally. Once the project was finished, you would be welcomed back with a raise, enough to buy that penthouse apartment you'd been eyeing. Your whole future runs through your mind as you get ready for your day until you are abruptly jarred out of them by a grumpy yowl.

“Seriously? You're giving me attitude? You're not even my cat, you little freeloader.” You grumble at the little ball of mixed fur sitting haughtily in the middle of your kitchen floor. Still, you opened a tin of tuna and placed it in the bowl you bought just for her and refreshed her water bowl. “I'm seeing Joel today. I'm going to have him nail that cat flap shut.” You idly threaten as the ginger and black mottled creature eyes you. “Don't look at me like that. He's just a contractor I work with.” You project onto your four-legged companion. Although even the cat could see that things had changed between you and Joel lately.

Joel Miller had come highly recommended when you were looking for contractors in the area. After his daughters moved out for college, he downsized his business and moved north to be closer to them. He'd settled in the same town as his brother to spend time with his family, including his young nephews. You knew quite a bit about Joel. Divorced single father at a young age. He adopted one of his daughter Sarah's friends when her mom passed away. With his brother Tommy's help and sometimes hindrance, as Joel tells it, he built a great business. Aside from his daughters, Tommy was Joel's only close family left. His parents passed away in a car accident when Tommy was in junior high. Joel had pretty much finished raising Tommy and then started raising his own daughter. Joel was easy to talk to while you planned the finer details of the project. Sometimes well into the night, as you got sidetracked by enjoying each other's company. Joel no longer felt like an employee. He felt like something more, a friend or maybe…that potential spiral into no good thoughts is cut off by a heavy knock at your door.

Once your eyes adjust to the figure in front of you backlit by the morning sun on last night's fresh snow, you take in the well-dressed, broad shouldered man in front of you. He makes no secret of doing the same, removing his sunglasses to let his eyes travel your whole body. When his eyes finally reach yours, he speaks “Sorry to disturb you. I got here early, and the man at the gas station said to just knock here. I'm Dave, Dave York.” 

“Oh, Mr York! Hi. Er, I wasn't expecting you….” You suddenly feel flustered. Maybe due to the abrupt arrival of your client or due to the fact that he is even hotter than his voice led you to imagine he was. 

“I know, and please, Dave. I just woke up and decided to make the drive early. I figured I could get breakfast here and wait, but the guy assured me that you wouldn't mind me knocking.” Dave told you in earnest.

I bet he didn't. Gus was married to the owner of the diner. The two of them were the biggest busybodies in town. They both had plenty to say about a single woman in her forties. 

“It's absolutely fine. I just haven't long been up. I haven't had my coffee yet, so doing business is a shock to the system.” You put on your brightest smile to put Dave at ease.

“Well, in that case, the least I can do is get you coffee. I was going to the diner anyway, maybe you can escort me?”

A cup of coffee had sounded innocent enough. Then Reba, Gus’ wife and fellow busybody, had gotten involved, and the next thing you know, you and Dave were eating breakfast together and chatting the morning away. You had to admit that even without Reba’s help, Dave was smooth and confident enough to keep you here. The attraction between the two of you was obvious. Dave flirted openly, though he managed to keep it subtle and classy. There was an air of mystery about him. Even beyond his CIA work, there was a cool reservedness under his charming facade. There was an intensity there, too. Sadly, there were not many men who you could imagine as your equal or, in this case superior, but you could easily imagine Dave dominating you…the third interruption to your thoughts of the day comes courtesy of Joel clearing his throat. 

“Sorry to interrupt. I just didn't want to miss our meeting.” Joel lays on the southern charm as he introduces himself to Dave. 

It doesn't take an ex-CIA agent to see it's stretched over an underbed of annoyance. Dave acts just as politely, even with the obvious tension in the air, as he gives Joel his own name and his hand.

After what feels like forever, it's your turn to speak. “My apologies to you both. Dave, it was lovely to meet you. You have your keys. Take your time to inspect the property and get back to me with any issues. I have a meeting with Joel, our very competent contractor, who can handle any last-minute requests for your home. Breakfast is on me, well, the company. Enjoy. Joel, let's head over to the office.” Without looking as you make your way to the door seeking the air that had been sucked out of the room, you can tell Dave and Joel take a moment to eye each other. 

When Joel finally catches up to you outside, you offer him another apology.

“Don't worry about it. You were obviously busy entertaining your client.” The set of his jaw as he speaks makes you think about punching him in it. 

Joel is an extremely handsome man, even with being at home in the same neutral toned flannel every day, you could see him being able to pull off a variety of colours, unfortunately for him envy green didn't suit. The short meeting was conducted in even shorter exchanges. There were no pleasantries or antidotes. No lingering after business was done just to shoot the shit. 

It was barely noon when you got home, but you decided to take a long soak in the tub, hoping to wash away the discomfort of the morning. The bath worked to a certain extent. After some time relaxing on your own, you decide that whatever issue Joel had was on him, and Dave was free to handle it however he liked. Tying your robe at the waist, you watch the last of the bubbles drain and give the claw foot tub a quick rinse. The thought of a hot cup of tea and a book in your cosy chair leads you downstairs without even dressing. The water is simmering when you hear a rap on the kitchen window. You know who it is before you open the door. 

“Joel.” You open curtly.

“Listen, I'm not too good with words, but I wanted to say sorry for this morning. I...damn it…I guess I got jealous when I saw you with another man. Lately, I've been thinking that maybe when the job is over, you would let me take you out on a date.” For a big man, Joel seems awfully small while he gets that all out. Adorably so. Part of you wants to kiss the little patch in his beard. 

“You did alright with your words, Joel. Apology accepted. As for the date, you're right. I would have let you take me on one, but you know as soon as I'm done here, I'm going home. I have to admit this small town living was pretty nice for a while, but I have a career to get back to.” It was your turn to feel small, a career, and not much else. 

“I'm from Texas. We drive hours for a football game. A few hours drive for a date with a beautiful woman is nothing.” The way Joel softens for you makes you melt. 

All too quickly, you are aware of how close his broad chest is and how naked you are under your thin robe. Those large skilled hands could be on your bare skin in moments. The air shifts between you, throwing out more heat than the roaring fire in your living room. The times you've imagined Joel taking you in front of that thing on your lonely nights here was enough to make a sinner blush. As if you had slipped into a cartoon, the stream whistle blows on your kettle. 

“I better…” You pull yourself away from Joel. 

Not having those intense brown eyes looking down at you helps to clear your head. “That's really sweet, Joel. Maybe at another time, I would have jumped at the idea, but I'm going to have so much work to do. I have to get familiar with all of our clients, not just the ones I've handled. I need to research new investors and companies to work with. It's just going to be a lot, and I don't want to lead you on.” As if on autopilot, you pour the water over the tea bag, and it becomes the most fascinating thing in the room as you can't lift your face from it for fear of Joel seeing through you. It's not work that is keeping you from accepting his offer. It's fear. Fear of heartbreak, fear of something between you derailing your future plans, fear of so many unknowns.

“I know when to take no for an answer, but if you change your mind, I get good mileage out of my truck, and I keep the tank full.” You can picture the smirk on his face from his voice.   

It breaks through enough to make you turn to him. Sure enough, he has that smirk that breaks into that dopey grin he gets after he makes a dad joke when you smile at him.

“I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for understanding.” It's not on the little bare patch, but you can't resist placing a kiss on his cheek.

The closeness of the two of you as you pull away draws your faces together until your lips meet a soft, tender kiss. When you pull away, there is a wordless exchange between you with eyes full of longing, regret, and understanding. 

“I'll see you at work tomorrow.” Joel finally provides trying to make things easier on you.

“See you tomorrow, Joel.” You manage a smile for him before seeing him out.

Your tea, book, and cosy chair are long forgotten in favour of throwing yourself on your bed like some lovesick Disney princess. Instead of birds fluttering around you, self-doubt flies about the space of your room. 

The ringing of your phone breaks you out of a slumber that you didn't realise had claimed you. Dave York’s name is on your screen. “Hi, Dave. How are you settling in?” 

Half an hour later, you are sitting at Dave’s breakfast bar as he details a few changes he would like. “These are all very doable.”

Instantly, you regret your choice of words when you see Dave’s face. The look on it makes it very clear that he caught your double entendre.”Where are my manners? I have even offered you anything to drink.”

Dave moves around the kitchen like he has lived there for years. Something tells you that Dave would move around any space like he owned it. Including the space between your legs. The touch of Joel's lips on yours and the memory of the heat of his body has you feeling a way as you watch Dave's hands competently open the bottle of wine he retrieved from the cabinet over the fridge. 

“Red? Or I have some chilled white?” Dave asks as if wine is the only choice.

“Neither, thank you.” You decline while Dave pours himself a healthy glass.

“Alright. You do seem a little tense. I thought it might help you relax. Is it anything to do with your contractor friend?” Dave's line of questioning has you blinking owlishly at him. “I don't mean to pry. He just seemed a bit put out this morning, with us enjoying each other's company, and you don't usually wear that cologne.” All you can do is sit there stunned. A little angry at the audacity, impressed by his attention to detail, a little relieved that it's out in the open. “Look, I know I just got here, but we've been speaking on the phone for a long time now. The way you handle yourself impressed me. Now I have a face, and body, to go with that I'm even more impressed. I enjoyed our breakfast this morning. I'd like to explore that connection further. If things don't work out with your Cowboy Contractor, you can call me. Or I don't mind keeping you company until they do.” Speechless. Speechless and aroused. 

“You know….I think I will have that glass of wine.” No other thoughts enter your head until you have downed at least half a glass of the quality merlot that Dave hands you. “Thank you…for the wine and the interest. I would be interested too. I mean, in you, but I have work…and…and Joel and…I…have to be going to conduct work and…Joel…so goodnight.”

Dave seems amused by your rambling as you make your way to the back door. Smiling broadly, he throws a ‘goodnight’ through the narrow gap in the door before you slam it shut.

Taking to your bed seems like a great option again. Laying there fully dressed, the weight of the day drives you into the mattress. This was not what you needed. Not at this stage in your life or at this time of the year. Tomorrow, you were to help with the Christmas festival and entertain prospective buyers. How were you supposed to be a cheery, innocent Santa's helper when you had thoughts of a different type of ‘ho ho ho’ in your mind? 

A quick ‘stress relief’ session, a shower, and a new pair of silky snowflake adored pyjamas have you more in the festive mind before you drift off to sleep. 

The next morning is non-stop. Both Dave and Joel crossed your path. Dave exchanged morning pleasantries as he returned from a jog in the light snowfall. You remind him about the festival and how important it is. Joel is helping with the stage, so you managed to avoid any long conversation. Aside from your requests from Dave, to be done in the new year, there really wasn't much you had to say to him. He was only going to be here to set up anyway. Lunchtime rolls around, and your stomach pulls you home from the bustling town square to the leftover soup and remainder of yesterday's fresh bread. The drive to the new development was only a few minutes away. When you get there, you wish that it was longer, so you missed the full-blown display of testosterone on your neighbour’s lawn. 

“I told you!” Joel spits.

“What do you want? A fucking medal?” Dave snarls back.

“Hey! What is going on?!” You call as soon as you jump out of your car now parked haphazardly on the street. 

Both men visibly calm.

Joel speaks first. “The power is out for the block. Dave decided to hang some Christmas lights.” You can tell it pains him not to add some dig at Dave.

“You said the festival was important. I wanted to do my part.” Dave tries to appeal to your good nature and high standards. 

“Which would have been great, I'm sure, if you hadn't overloaded the circuit board.” Joel grits out.

Dave moves first, turning squarely to Joel. Joel doesn't move an inch. He just calmly regards Dave’s stance.

“Enough! You can measure who’s is bigger later. Just fix this. Please.” The two of them morphed from scowling dogs to obedient pups at your words.

“We will.” Joel promises with Dave nodding in agreement. 

Thankfully, both your stove and water heater ran off gas, so you are still able to eat and shower before changing into your ridiculous elf costume. White and green striped tights covered your legs, clinging to your curvy thighs. A green and red elf dress and hat made up the rest of the costume, and it was completed with elf ears and sparkly rosy cheek makeup. 

At first, when you spot Joel and Dave through your window congratulating each other on getting the power back on, relief floods you. The day was back on track, and they seemed to be getting on well, bonus. Sadly, the relief is short-lived when they see you leave the house. The two of them exchange glances and acquire matching shit eater grins.

“Nope. I don't want to hear it. The power is on. You two aren't butting heads on the lawn. Do not ruin it.” You yell at them while scrambling into your car as quickly as possible before they spoil your mood with any jokes.

The festivities went well. The prospective buyers seemed overjoyed with the place. The current town residents seemed to approve of the applicants. Three new families are bringing eight children between them. The adults include a veterinarian, a teacher, and a nurse. Two well-off, quiet retired couples. The business woman was a no show, but she did travel a lot last minute as she'd told you. Santa proved very popular and you by association. It did warm your heart to hand out candy canes and see the children's happy faces. Best of all, Joel and Dave spent most of the day busy somewhere else and only turned up at the end of the day with some booze laden eggnog courtesy of Reba. 

“Wow. That could strip paint.” You comment before taking another healthy gulp.

“Easy. We might have to carry you home.” Joel laughs before taking a cautious sip from his own cup. 

“Please. I can handle my booze.” You scoff.

Dave raised his eyebrows in approval before raising his cup. “I'll drink to that.”

A few paint-stripped nogs later, the three of you amble home. You are in the middle flanked by your burly protectors. 

“You two seem to be getting on better, or is it just the alcohol?” The alcohol has certainly loosened you up. There was no way you would poke the bear like that sober.

“We talked while we worked on the electricity.” Dave begins to explain.

“I don't think she needs all the details.” Joel tries to laugh the whole thing off. Dave doesn't take any notice as he carries on. “You and Joel clearly have a thing, and he was here first, so I'm not going to muscle in on his territory. We've good.”

Joel lets out a quiet ‘goddammit’ as you come to an abrupt stop. “Oh? We've good are we? You two have decided that? You have decided that Joel can lay claim to me since he's planted his flag?!”

“Really? I just thought you kissed.” Dave quips.

Joel looks like he wants to take a swing at the other man.

“So you two have decided who I want? Well, the joke is on you. I want you both.” Wow, the alcohol has just removed your filter completely. “I don't have time for relationships or dating, but it's been a lonely year here, and I want sex and if you two think you can just choose for me, then I can choose you both.”

The indignant tone in your voice is undercut by the bell on your hat tinkling as you fold your arms across your chest. 

Dave stalks towards you like a creature in the night. “When you say both, do you mean at the same time? I mean, I'm game. I don't know about, Tex, here.” 

The light brush of his fingers across your cheek makes you tremble. The touch adds weight to his words. That's all this is right now, words. They could just walk about, and nothing would come of it. Then Joel moves, too. With complete purpose, straight at you. The kiss he gives you now is nowhere near as chaste as the last one. It's a burning brand of his desire on you. It leaves no doubt of Joel's intentions towards you. When it ends for a moment, you understand what people mean when they say the earth moved. Until you realised Dave had swept you up in his arms. For a second, that little insecure voice worried about him carrying your extra pounds, but it was left in the metaphorical dust as Dave carried you easily through the snow to your door. 

With shaking fingers, you try to retrieve the keys from your tiny green felt pouch. When you can't, Dave shoves the purse at Joel, who quickly opens the door while Dave gets his first kiss with you. It's a precision assault with his tongue. He knows just the right amount to use to have you breathless. 

The two muscular men block your doorway for a moment when you pull them both in at the same time. Following your lead and using the momentum, the two of them press you into the wall opposite. Dave’s thigh presses between your legs as the two of them kiss your neck. Joel's work hardened hand is gentle as it cups your breasts in turn, thumbing each nipple as he goes. The arousal the action brings jerks your hips into Dave’s tensed thigh. 

“You're needy, huh?” Dave teases with his words, and then his hands as he cups your mound. His fingers are spread just so to tease without giving you friction where you need it most.

“Please.” You whisper against Joel's lips as he kisses you once more. 

Joel doesn't tease. His thick fingers hitch your skirt up and dive below the waistband of your tights and panties. The first sweep of his fingertips where you need him has your toes curling in your little elf shoes.

“So we're just diving straight in?” Dave shrugs as he drops to his knees. 

His moves are no longer light, but they are just as calculated. Ripping the gusset out of your festive tights, he pulls your panties to the side and fills you with two thick digits. A quick come hither motion makes your knees buckle, and Joel pins you up with his hip. With you nestled into his side, Joel takes full advantage of exclusive access to your lips. These kisses are less urgent. He delicately gets to know what you like. Just as he does with his movements on your clit. He follows every whimper and moan changing his pace and pressure to suit. Dave on the other hand has found the spot he's looking for and is relentlessly pumping his fingers in and out. The noise is obscene in your picturesque little hallway. The cusses that spill from your lips as you come around Dave’s fingers are even worse. 

“With a mouth like that, you're definitely on the naughty list.” Joel grins, his eyes full of adoration. They darken for a second before he whispers in your ear. “You need your mouth washed out.”

“I hear Paris is lovely this time of year.” Dave chimes in, in between licking your release off of his fingers. 

With a plan in mind, the three of you end up in your bedroom. Clothes had all been shed on the way. Some you'd pulled off yourselves. Some had been torn off by others. Somehow, you had ended up on the bed looking up at the two beautifully naked men. Joel was broad and thick with a dark trail of curls leading down to his long, girthy cock. Dave was more lean but no less muscular. His hair was neatly trimmed around the base of his longer, thinner, curved cock. 

After you take your time to appreciate them, you reach for them. They lay on either side of you. Their hands run over every inch of your plush flesh. As they kiss, lick and nibble their way over every curve until you are dizzy with need. 

Eventually, Joel's hand skims between your legs. 

“Fuck.” He breathes, returning his hand there to feel the wetness pooling. 

Dave doesn't need any more feedback. He has you ready on your knees before you know it. His cock waiting at your entrance for any signal that you have changed your mind. The only signal you give him is sliding back down his length. You expect some smartass remark, all he gives you is a long moan as he fully bottoms out. You think you might get a softer side of Dave, until he starts thrusting hard and deep. He is so relentless that when Joel brings his weeping tip to your lips you don't even have to think about your movements, your lips just part around him and the movement of your whole body has your head bobbing around him. Only when his thick head nudges your throat do you think to bring your hand, lips, and tongue into play if only to allow you to breathe if nothing else. Dave’s balls slap against you violently as you cup Joel's gently kneading them. Joel whines at the act and threads his hand into your hair. It's more of a caring gesture than a dominant one. His thumb caresses the side of your head. Dave’s thrusts are maddeningly accurate. The pleasure is building rapidly. You don't know how much strength you'll have left once your orgasm hits. You can already tell it will be all consuming and leave you boneless. Desperately, you work Joel harder with your hand. It glides up and down his girth with ease from all the drool they have forced from you. Sucking him into your throat, you trace the thick vein of his shaft with your tongue. Your moans escalate and come out muffled. Dave grunts are pure filth as he nears his climax. Joel leaves you perplexed when he pulls his cock out.

“Let me hear you, sweetheart.” He pants as he starts fucking his own fist. “Is Dave making you feel good? Is he working my pussy right?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Oh, god.” You grip the sheets beneath you hovering on the edge of oblivion. 

“Fuck. You know he's just getting a taste, right? That that little cunt is mine afterwards?” The groan that comes from Joel's chest makes you clamp down around Dave. 

“Oh, shit. She likes that. Fuck. Fuck.” Dave's movements speed up clearly on the edge of spilling into you. 

“Yeah? You like me talking about how that cunt is mine? Be a good girl and milk his cock for all it's worth.” Your body listens to Joel before you even process his words. 

“Fuuuuck. Ugh.” Dave gasps as he fills you with rope after rope of his cum. He carries on thrusting until he's soft, driving his seed deep.

“Tongue out.” Joel groans.

You react just in time to catch the second spurt across your face. 

“Oh. Ohh.” Joel's hand keeps fisting his cock until he is thoroughly wrung out. His cum covers your cheeks and chin.

As post orgasm clarity sets in, Joel silently hands you his shirt to clean up while Dave wanders off to find his clothes. 

The Christmas festival in Honeymire seems like a lifetime ago. In reality, it has only been a year. The cosy chair that once looked out over the town now looks out over the skyline of the city. The view that your promotion bought you in your dream penthouse apartment. Everything had gone to plan. With maybe a couple of exceptions.

“Hey, Mama, we're home.” The familiar voice of your boyfriend calls from the front door while he kicks off his shoes.

“Hi, was my baby good? Were you a good girl?” You coo as you pick the carrier up to check on the furry occupier while she can't sculk away from your affection. 

“She was great. The new vet gave her a clean bill of health. I had a hard time explaining why she's called ‘Freeloader’.” Joel kisses your cheek after hanging up his jacket. 

“She eats my food, growls at me and has a weird way of showing her affection. What else would I call her?” You shrug.

“In my experience? Ellie.” Joel snorts.

You muse as you let your furry dependant loose. “They do have the same ‘cross me and I'll cut you’ vibe. Even if they are both adorable with it.” 

Joel smiles broadly at the thought of the challenging teen who managed to get into environmental law. “Yeah. I'm just glad she's channeling that energy into saving the world.”

The prideful look on Joel's face makes you love him even more. You can't  help but cuddle into him. “Speaking of, when are the girls leaving Tommy's after Christmas?”

Joel thinks for a moment. “The 29th. Why?”

Laying your head on his shoulder, you nonchalantly reply. “Nothing. Just Dave texted and asked if we wanted to spend New Year's in Paris.”

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Christmas Special

(5.6k words, wrote this in 24h <3 Merry bloody Christmas, guys! TW murder, I guess. Nothing too detailed, tho)

I woke up with a headache. Not a hangover, mind you. I am above getting such things, and in any case it's unfitting for a man such as I to get drunk. No, I had one of those classical headaches, the likes of which are received after a fine blow to the head.

That naturally implied another assassination attempt. How coarse. I opened my eyes and tested my bonds. There were none. Either my captors were convinced I would not run, or they were remarkably incompetent fools indeed.

The room I was held in was… strange, for lack of a better word. There were bright lights that danced across the ceiling, a roaring fireplace, and a table chock full of meats, vegetables, and grains. Yet, that was not the greatest surprise of all.

There was, for unfathomable reasons, a massive tree. Just— sitting, in the center of the room, dominating the festivities. It was gaudy with glowing lights, glittering twine, and baubles infesting its surface. 

Oh, and there were people. Lots of them, in fact, all looking equally confused. We were draped on sofas, sprawled out on armchairs, resting against walls. I was, perhaps, the first of us to wake up, and I swept a watchful eye across the room.

A surprising number of familiar faces caught my eye. Hash, my darling, was there, along with her lowborn friend the vampire. And, would you believe it? There was my old nemesis, the Godhuntress herself, lying blissfully unconscious, just waiting for me to kill her.

By instinct, my hand found its way to my dagger. Some of the bloodlust must have shown on my face, for I caught a mortal boy flinch and hide behind his companion. 

I was halfway to her exposed throat when said companion grabbed my wrist. “You don't want to do that,” she murmured, and her tone gave me pause. It was far too weighty to belong to a mortal, the regality in it far more reminiscent of one of us ancients.

I turned to her and showed off my best smile, the one with all my teeth. She didn't so much as blink at it. “Oh, believe me, miss. I really do. Nothing, and I mean nothing, in this world would grant me more pleasure than snuffing out the life of this vile monster. Now, how about you let me go about my business, hmm?”

She remained imperturbed. “Not happening, kid. Now, how about you tell me what's going on? I don't like this one bit.”

I shrugged and withdrew my blade. Under that strangely cold grip of hers, I sensed a power I did not want to mess with. “Damned if I know. Last I remember, I was in bed, sleeping.” 

“Your kind sleep?” She sounded skeptical. “Actually, what the hell are you?”

“I could say the same of you, miss,” I replied. “But I suppose I'll go first, shall I? I'm a forest spirit, and you may call me Hans.” I left the last portion of my name unspoken, for no one as versed in inhuman dealings as I would ever give my name freely. A damned shame that mine was so short, however. Two syllables was not a great deal of room to make aliases with.

“Katherine, and I suppose you could quantify me as a demon.” She paused. “You don't look like a spirit to me. How old are you?”

I crinkled my nose at her. “Old enough to handle my own, Miss Katherine. And you're one to talk, wearing the face of a little girl. Don't the humans call that pedophilia?”

“No, you're pedo-bait. I'm jailbait. There's a difference, pipsqueak.” The smile was slipping off her face. “Or maybe your little-boy brain is just too underdeveloped to understand that?”

I didn't take the bait. “Fortunately for us, that's not the case. And if you'll excuse me, I'll go find someone more cordial to chat with.” The Godhuntress was stirring, and much as I wanted her dead, a fair fight with her was not one I would win. 

The demoness Katherine let me go, turning back to her mortal boy-toy. I beelined to Hash, the one soul in that room I trusted wholeheartedly. “Wake up, my dear. We've got trouble.”

At that last word, he bolted awake. “Trouble?” He surveyed the room. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Trouble.”

The two of us watched as more and more people got up. The vast majority of them were humans, gangly and pock-marked and over-solid, though I did catch glimpses of spirits and others of our ilk here and there. Katherine was attempting to interrogate the Godhuntress, something I wished her the best of luck with. If I was fortunate enough, perhaps they would get into a fight, and at least one of my problems would be solved.

“We should try to investigate,” Hash whispered. “Someone must know something, yea?”

“If you are so inclined, do it yourself.” I pursed my lips. “I think I shall wait for them to come to me. And sample the food, while I'm at it.”

“Are you crazy? We don't know where it's from. We don't know what it's made of. We don't know jack shit, and you want to play it cool? Have you finally lost your marbles? The only kind of person who would act so casually in this scenario is-” He stopped in his tracks. “Oh. So that's your game. I like it. Dangerous as fuck, but that's life, isn't it?”

“Yes, that is life. Now hop to it, my love. Between the two of us, I think we can get a grip over this crowd in no time.”

Hash gave me a final nod, and strolled off. The first thing I did was grab a glass of wine. Everyone looked more suave like that, and it gave me an excuse to put myself in the center of the room. Several curious eyes followed me as I picked up a plate of venison on the way back, and it was not long before the first of my visitors followed.

She was a young woman, something I sensed would be a common theme in the hours to come, with a spear in hand and an unquenchable rage about her. I swirled my drink in its cup and waited for her to speak.

“Hey! Creepy little boy.” In my own name, was I going to have to be called little boy all evening? “Tell us what's going on, or I'm gonna shish-kebab you with my spear.” 

“I have no idea what you mean,” I replied, pretending to be preoccupied with the vortex within my flute of wine. That glorified stick of hers was hardly sharp enough to pierce a slice of bread, let alone me. “Why would you think I know anything at all, dear?”

“Because you're the only person who looks even slightly at home here? Everyone else is freaking out, and you're just sipping a drink. What are you, one of Santa's elves? Krampus' stolen children? Why are we stuck in a Christmas celebration?” She waved her spear around threateningly.

That was interesting. I did not know what Santa or Krampus were, but I did know the elves, and I knew I could not hope to pass for one in my life. “Maybe,” I said, winking. “Or maybe not.” With luck, she would elaborate.

The girl seemed to only grow angrier at my words, leveling her spear at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hash watch me with alarm. I shook my head slightly, warning her not to rescue me. It would be for the best if we did not show our hand yet. 

“Come on then. Aren't you going to stab me already?” I spread my arms, offering her a clear view of my chest. She narrowed her eyes, and for a moment I felt a genuine flash of fear. Beneath that gaze was something that writhed and fed on rot, something old as time itself and hardly less conquerable.

And then it was gone, as an old man grabbed her weapon and pulled it from her grasp. “Athena! What the hell are you doing?” He was followed by another human boy and… a summoner? 

Yes, a summoner, or something akin to it. I had not seen one of her kind in a very long time. The plot thickened. I have the newcomers a lazy smile, and they responded by tensing up.

“What on earth are you?” That was the summoner, pushing angry little Athena behind her. “You're not human, that's for sure.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Athena snapped, wrestling her spear back. “That thing knows something. I'm sure of it.”

The summoner met my gaze, piercing me right through. “No he doesn't,” she said, before I could recover. “He's bluffing.”

“Excuse me?” I pushed myself out of my chair, going nose to nose (or nose to collar, as the case was) with her in not-so-faux rage. “I know plenty, little mortal. For starters-” Pulling her down by the scruff of her tattered shirt, I whispered in her ear. “I know your little girl is cursed. I know that you are a witch, and a good one at that. And, I know that you really do not want to go back to where you came from, so how about you enjoy the food and leave me be, hmm?”

That last line was nothing more than an educated guess, but it paid off. They were too scruffy and thin to have been living in safe conditions, and I caught sight of more than one open sore on them. 

Gears turned in the summoner's brain, wondering if it was worth the cost to call my bluff. Eventually she stepped away from me. “My apologies, sir,” she said, nodding politely. “We'll leave you be.”

I grinned. “Thank you very much, little one. Go try the venison, if you feel peckish. I find it delightful.”

Athena opened her mouth to argue some more, but the summoner gave her a warning glance, and she left with naught more than a glare at me. Settling back in my chair, I took another sip of the wine.

“Hey, you're Hash's boyfriend, aren't you?” On the list of things I did not want to be called, that somehow ranked below ‘creepy little boy'. I turned to see Hash's vampire friend, still wearing his Smiley Mart™ shirt. What was his name: Dane? Dale? Dave?

Yeah, Dave sounded about right. “Hello, Dave,” I said, turning back around so I did not have to look at him. “Is there something you want?”

“Hash told me to come find you. She said you could use my help?” He stepped around so I was facing him once more. “I really don't know what to do, honestly.”

I sighed. “Go interrogate someone,” I told him, more to get him off my back than anything else. “Actually, go keep an eye on some people for me.” I pointed out the Godhuntress, who was flapping her wings in an attempt to get a mortal girl to stop poking them. 

“Is that who I think that is?” Dave's eyes widened. “You think this was her doing?”

“Hmm? Of course not. I want you to tell me when she looks distracted so I can go kill her.”

“You're crazy,” he said. “That's the Godhuntress. You know, the greatest deity since the Creator herself? Yeah, that Godhuntress. She'll squash you like a bug.”

“Doesn't matter. I will find a way.” I clenched my glass. “She took something very precious from me, and I will take my revenge, one way or another.”

“Alright, alright. It'll be a hell of a story to tell, in any case.” He made to leave, then turned back. “Say, is that wine any good? I'm feeling rather thirsty.”

I considered it. “It is rather dry,” I replied. “But fruity, too. Take that as you will.”

“Cool. Thanks, Hash's boyfriend,” he said, and the glint in his eye told me he was calling me names in insult. Unfortunately, by the time I had registered it, he was long gone.

People were beginning to crowd around the tables, finally encouraged to touch the food. That was when I spotted someone I had thought I would never see again: Merida Ryder. And with another forester at that! 

For once, curiosity got the better of me, and I trotted over to talk to her. She would not recognise me, of course. I had taken great pains to disguise myself that time, and I wondered how she would feel seeing my true face for once. 

“Well, well. If it isn't miss Merida, all grown up. Remember me?” I tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned around, and it broke my heart to see how she had changed. Her eyes were sunken, the lights gone from them. Merida looked down at me, and there was no spark of recognition. “No,” she said flatly.

The forester turned around, and he let out a little gasp. “You're-” I shushed him. 

“Can you not see I am trying to talk to someone here? It is most lovely to see a fellow Ces-ilre, but I must speak to Merida first,” I said. “Are you sure you don't remember me? I passed you that gun, all those fateful years ago.”

She blinked slowly. “Don't. I don't want to remember.” Merida shuddered. “Go away, Hans. Thank you for your help. I absolve you of the favours you owed me.”

I am not and have never been a stranger to suffering, but it hurt to see her crushed like that. “So you do recognise me,” I continued. “What happened, Merin? You used to be so happy.”

“I grew up.” 

And that was all she would say on the matter. The forester extracted my hand from her shoulder and led me back to my couch. I let him, of course, something in the hollow cavity where my heart should be aching. 

“You're the Spirit Emperor,” he whispered to me, snapping me out of my reverie. “What are you doing here, my lord? And how did you know Merida?”

“Same as you, and that is none of your business,” I whispered back, slipping into forester dialect. “What is your name and clan, sirrah?”

“Kristavla, formerly of the Ko clan. My lord.”

“So you were there when… the Incident happened.” I jerked my chin at the Godhuntress, now attempting to engage a very uncomfortable Dave in conversation. Or perhaps she was interrogating him.

“No. I was attending to my fiance, my lord. The late Kitsy Te-clan.”

“Oh. I killed her, did I not?” I vaguely remembered a foul-mouthed guard who had insulted me the moment I arrived on castle grounds.

“Yes, and I thank you for it.” Kristavla shook his head. “I will not speak ill of the dead, but she was not a good woman.” 

“I can imagine that.”

We sat there in silence for a few more moments. “Would you like to help me avenge our people?” I gestured again to the Godhuntress, who was being fawned over by a lich of some kind. “We may not get another chance.”

“I am not one for vengeance,” Kristavla said. “But you are a friend of my friend. And so I will. For you, my lord, and for our people, may their remains soak the earth.”

“Thank you. Be on your way, friend,” I told him. “Speak with the vampire in the demeaning costume—” I had to approximate a word for Dave's Smiley Mart uniform— “and see if you can isolate and weaken her. From there we shall make the kill.”

Kristavla nodded, and slipped away. Taking his place (for it seemed I would have an endless supply of supplicants today), was a lean, sly doctor. Her red hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and her skin was dry enough to resemble scales.

“Hello, Spirit Emperor,” she hissed. “Fancy seeing you caught up in the Christmas web.”

There was that word again. Christmas. “Care to explain, doctoress?” I offered her a seat. She was about as human as I, with the way she moved, though I could not tell what on earth she was.

“I am an Oracle,” she rasped, as though reading my mind. “And my people arranged this felicitous meeting.”

I froze up. “I see. And why should I believe you?”

She laughed, a sound that had more in common with the death of a small furry animal than anything friendly. “Your name is Hans-el Ko-clan. You killed and ate your parents to save the Goddess of Dreams. Your lover is a shapeshifter who will not tell you its true name, and you hold a grudge against the fallen angel they call the Godhuntress.”

“All very impressive,” I agreed. “ But any old fool could have worked that out with the right background knowledge. Tell me something nobody knows.”

The Oracle grinned, revealing red and raw gums. “Careful what you wish for, little boy.” She shifted closer, and I could smell the blood on her breath. “You claimed the throne by mimicking the magic-thieving spell the Godhuntress used on your dear friend. You helped the renegade Merida start the civil war in Palioden by orchestrating a situation in which she had to kill her sister using a gun you provided. And, as the topping on this pie, your worst fear is-”

“No!” It came out louder than I expected, and more than a few heads turned our way. “I believe that you are an Oracle. Please, do not continue this.”

The Oracle leaned back, victorious. “Good boy,” she murmured, proving that there was, in fact, a nickname I could dislike more than ‘Hash’s Boyfriend'.  “Now, I suggest you stop hiding in this little corner and get to moving the plot forward, will you, dear? You ought to be an active protagonist.” She pushed me off my chair. “And be grateful we didn't send you the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present or Future.”

Before I could ask her what the ghosts, or even Christmas, were, she was gone. Not gone like a ghost walker, or like a teleporter. Gone entirely, as though she had never existed in the first place. I shook my head to ward off the strange feeling, and got up. It was unwise to disregard an Oracle's warnings.

I was about to approach a random person, when someone once again came to me. For once, she seemed perfectly normal. “You look like you know what's going on,” she said without preamble. “Care to explain?”

“Unfortunately for you? I do not,” I informed her, pausing to pick up a few jellies and put them onto my plate.

“Well that's not very polite of you, seeing as I know what Christmas is and you don't,” she replied, taking a few jellies of her own. “And I hear you killed your parents too. We've got that in common, at least.”

That gave me pause. She didn't look like a mage of any kind. “And how did you do that, little girl? With a knife? A pillow to the face at night?”

“A death ray, actually. I'm Mara. Nice to meet you, Hans,” she informed me, sticking her hand out. “You're the talk of the party, you know. They say you're an Emperor.”

“And just who might this ‘they’ be?” Blasphemous gods above, did she ever shut up? 

“Well, Visitor over there, and his buddy Aida. They're from Palioden, which a few little birds tell me is a land in your world. Which, if you can't tell already, I'm not from.”

“What?” 

Mara giggled. “You heard me, Mr Spirit Emperor. I'm not from your world. And if I eavesdropped right, they-” she pointed at Athena's crew- “aren't either. The creepy girl who stopped you from killing that goddess too.”

“The Godhuntress isn't a goddess,” I snapped. “She's nothing but a grandiose genocider. And how did you know about me and Katherine? Everyone was asleep.” 

“I happen to be really good at pretending to be asleep. Picked up the habit in kindergarten.” I tiptoed to pick a cream puff off the top of its tower, and she helped lift it down for me. 

“Thank you. So what do you want, Mara-murderer? A boon? As you have ascertained, I know naught more about this place than you.” Finally, that was a lie. The Oracle had provided me with some excellent information.

“I want to help you kill that bitch. The Godhuntress, or whatever her name was.” Mara's eyes glinted with bloodlust.

“Why?”

“She disrespected me,” Mara snarled, cracking her knuckles. “I was wondering what she was, and I poked her wings, and would you believe it? That fucking bitch slapped me. Me! No fucking warning.”

I was deeply surprised to hear that the Godhuntress had not done worse than a mere slap for the insolence of grabbing her wings. But any aid was welcome aid, especially from someone as adept at spying as Mara appeared to be. “I see. Let's team up, shall we?”

“Excellent.” She rubbed her hands together. “I know that pretty elf girl and the convenience store dude are on your side. Is the other spirit with you too?” I nodded. “Mmkay. I'll tell them everything I know, and report back.”

“Certainly,” I replied. Mara let out another disturbing giggle, and ran off. There was something deeply wrong with that girl, I decided.

I drifted down the table, plucking up more desserts as I went. The talk of the party, was I now? I could certainly see it. More than one person parted way to let me pick out my food, and I saw a distinct wariness in their eyes. Then again, it was but my dues. 

I passed by a Luxatian Crusader in full armour, and she nodded at me. “Spirit.”

“Knight.” For once, I was having a normal encounter. For once, nobody was questioning me about Christmas, or Santa, or Krampus, whatever they were. For once-

The knight unsheathed her sword.

I moved to dodge the blow, but it never came. Indeed, she was not so much as looking at me. Her eyes were trained on someone else, instead. A lich.

“You,” the knight snarled. “Iraela Foundling. The Lich-Queen. I swore an oath to defeat you. And now, I shall.” Ah. It seemed I was not the only one with a grudge to satisfy. 

The Lich-Queen blinked, and eloquently croaked out, “What?”

“I am going to watch your unlife spill out onto my blade, foul beast. You killed my family, my entire village. I watched your ghouls eat my sisters. They were six years old, Lich-queen. I had to run while they begged me to save them.” Tears sprung to the knight's eyes. “You are a monster of the foulest kind, and a fog shall lift the day you die.”

“A monster? Damn right I am a monster,” the lich announced. “I am the monster humanity made of me. Your kind declared me cursed, broken, unlovable. All I did was listen to their words. You should have known it by now: a child not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth. And all I ever wanted to feel was warm.” She threw her arms wide. “Go on. Slay me. Continue your precious little cycle of hatred. One day, the people I saved, the ones your family scorned, will avenge me.”

A glint in her eye told me she had no plans of going down so easily.

The Crusader spat on the ground. “Spare me your lies, Lich-Queen. Your pretty words will not sway justice.”

I sighed. I knew what kind of woman turned herself into a lich, and it was hardly the sort who a mere knight could defeat. If nobody stopped that fool knight, she was going to get herself killed.

In a flash, I was standing behind the Crusader, barely reaching her underarm. A quick knockout spell later, and she was down, keeling over like a metal doll with its strings cut.

The room had fallen silent. Everyone, even the Godhuntress herself, watched me. I resisted the urge to declare my undying hatred of her, and instead gave a cheery wave to the room. 

The Lich-Queen let her arms fall. “Say, might you be the Spirit Emperor?”

I nodded. “The one and only. And a little bird—” I prodded the unconscious knight with my foot— “told me you were the Lich-Queen. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“And I yours.” She offered her forearm, and I took it. “I actually knew your predecessor: Sucsu'anane.”

That name belonged in our history books. Sucsu was old, and infamous. “But that would make you the first Lich-Queen,” I murmured. “You- It was you who started the Runic wars! It was you who caused the shifters to die out!”

I was staring a legend in the face, a woman who had caused horrors long before my time, horrors that echoes for all eternity. “By the false gods, it is good to meet you! What an honour, Lady Iraela. What an inspiration you were to me.”

I might have spread the flattery on too thick, but Iraela lapped it all up. “Why, you're too kind. Let me tell you: ruling is all in the flair. Why, for my coronation…”

I let history's greatest disaster lead me by the arm to a nice corner, where she proceeded to chatter my ear off. For once, I shall spare you the details. Suffice to say, I learnt more about the history of the Deadlands than I ever wished to know. 

“Let me tell you something, Hans,” she said, interrupting her own monologue.

“Hmm?”

“I heard you knew a shifter named Hash. Well, I met him too.”

That made me perk right up. I'd known Hash was older than I, but that old? Fascinating. What else was he hiding from me?

“Don't trust him. He betrayed us all. We would have won the war, if that little bastard hadn't run off to the elves and spilled the beans. We could have been great, Hans-el. Our peoples, the vampires and the spirits and the ghouls, could have ruled the world. But Hash was soft. Do not let that softness corrupt you,” she warned. “It will rot you from the inside, and when your enemies scoop your guts out, they will not so much as give you the gift of eating you alive.”

“I know,” I replied. “My mother was soft, and it brought her naught but suffering. Our people revile it.”

“And yet you love him,” Iraela commented wryly. “That alone tells me enough about you.”

I did not dare lie and disagree. “Yes, I do. But Hash can take care of himself, now. He's slippery as hell.”

“Yes, that much I have seen from tonight's festivities. But that is the point, is it not? He will slip your grasp and betray you, just as he did the shifters. One day, you will make a cruel choice, a choice for the greater good, and his soft little heart will push him to betray you. All because you weren't hard enough to cut him off.”

I stood up, suddenly reminded of my conversation with the Oracle. My greatest weakness indeed, I thought. “That may be so, my lady. He may betray me, and leave me dead in the gutter. But that is a risk I am willing to take.” I brushed invisible dust off my skirt. “All you are is a woman who failed to rule the world, Lady Iraela. At the end of the day, all you have is your love's blood on your hands and a heart you wrenched out of your own chest. Even if I lose it all, at least I loved, and was loved in turn. For someone who went on and on about needing to feel warm earlier, you just do not seem to understand that, do you?”

Iraela laughed. “So young,” she whispered. “So young and so foolish. They'll make mincemeat out of you, little Emperor. And I'll laugh at you from my grave.”

I strode away from her, back stiff and fists clenched. I could take insult all day, but this? This firm condemnation? It stung. It stung like my father's whippings. It stung and I wanted to never think of it again.

I was still standing about, willing emotion away from me, when Mara tapped me on the shoulder. “Come on,” she said, grinning. “Buncha tables appeared. I grabbed one for us. Your little vampire friend got dragged off to hang out with the rest of his kind, but it seems I'm free to roam.” She laughed maniacally. 

She led me to a table. Hash, my Hash, my brilliant, softhearted friend, grabbed my arms and all but pulled me by his side. “Check this out: That vampire's got a tan!” He pointed a woman in work clothes, conversing animatedly with Dave. “Apparently, she's a field researcher. Can you believe it?”

“Yes, I can,” I agreed numbly. 

“Oh, and this Christmas thing! Mara told me all about it. Apparently, they eat turkey and give gifts and celebrate this saint of theirs. I don't have a gift for you, but I figured this might do!” He pointed at the Godhuntress and lowered his voice. “I cut a sleeping rune onto her piece of turkey while I was carving it. She doesn't know know to use the cutlery, so when she bites into it, the spell will activate, and it'll be your chance! Whaddya think?”

He really was sly. “Brilliant, my love,” I whispered, my mind still on the Lich-Queen. “What else did you find?”

He scrunched his nose up and thought. “Um, the God of Evil's here, and he's a pretty chill guy. The Godhuntress' daughter's here too, and she's got an axe to grind with dear old mum, too, but I convinced her not to do anything drastic. There's some poor blue fellow in the corner, and he's got some kind of curse. I didn't go too close, but he seems… different from the rest of us. When we're done, we should go investigate.”

Beside me, a man in a strange vest sat down. “Hello there, lad,” he began, only to fall silent when he met my eyes. “You're no child. You're a monster.” He stumbled back, clutching his hand to his chest. “Maya? Let's find another table.”

Hash barely hid back laughter as he all but fled the scene, the girl he called Maya giving me a wry smile and nod as she followed. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. The others. Look over there. No, not at the demon-girl. The blondie and the redhead next to her.”

“I recognise the others at that table,” I told him. “Kristavla and Merida.”

“Yeah, Kris was helping us out earlier. The redhead? Apparently an infamous mind-mage. She fuckin conquered an entire city, all on her own. And the blond girl's a spell-snapper. Ugly combo, if you ask me. They're from the same era as us, but Nyctomachian.”

“And them?” I pointed at Athena and the one-eyes summoner. “They damn near called my bluff.”

“Yeah, they bothered Dave real bad too. Something tells me they're not gonna harass us again, though.” He grinned at me. “A certain someone may have implied that he was the reason they even ended up here.”

I wanted to facepalm. “Damnit, Hash. That was exactly what I told them too.” I looked over at them, deep in discussion. The old man met my gaze, and held it with the kind of defiance that promised trouble. “Ah, what the hell. We can deal with them later. For now, let us celebrate.”

I drank more wine, this time watered down (for no man of my stature should ever get drunk), gossiped with Hash and Mara, and bided my time.

The Godhuntress took her spare time sipping drinks and eating appetisers. For a moment I suspected she knew of our devious plan, for she avoided her turkey for far too long. Then she lifted the fateful piece of poultry with more grace than it deserved, and bit down.

I was by her side before her head hit the table. My reputation preceded me, for the others at her table, a rather foolish spirit and his mortal friend, scrambled back. Gasps of shock and horror resounded as I readied my blade.

It was quite a shock to realise those noises were not for me. I glanced up from my goal for one fateful minute, perhaps compelled by the strings of Fate that the Oracles pulled, and caught sight of what could only be described as a cryptid.

He came from the chimney, white and red despite the soot. A full white beard hung limply from his chin, and his deep voice resounded throughout the room. “Ho, ho, ho! Merry bloody Christmas, fools!” He pulled out a massive sack and grinned at the room. “You're all bad apples, the lot of you! Coal for everyone!” 

Everyone except me dodged the sudden hail of coal that followed the opening of his sack. “Well, what are you waiting for?” He leered at me, icy blue eyes piercing me like the fangs of the last Oracle I met. 

I lifted my knife, aiming it at the dazed Godhuntress' throat. A glimmer of recognition dawned upon her face, but I did not let her recover fully. Down went my blade, swift, brutal and twice as just as any executioner's axe.

And what a merry, bloody Christmas it was.

[simplydannie]

New Under Rageous AU Idea: The Retelling of Trolls

What if….

It wasn’t Bergentown the Trolls escaped from….

It wasn’t Chef clutches (though she’ll be a major part of the story).

It wasn’t a Troll tree they escaped from… but rather a Troll Farm…. A forest kept inside a diamond dome… owned by no other than Vaughn Montegue.

In this retelling, King Peppy finds a way for a number of Trolls to escape the Troll Dome (what they call the farm) before he or his daughters are taken for “extraction”… but the escape causes a rift, a separation amongst families:

As they run, they are pursued by Under Rageons and Vaughn himself. Some get recaptured in the process, including Viva, Clay, and Floyd, while the rest escape deeper into Under Rageous.

Does this mean they are safe? Free?… No. Not entirely.

Twenty years after their escape, the Trolls find themselves taken in by the community of what they “Pauper Trolls”, these Trolls have escaped the clutches of Under Rageons and Under Bergens alike, settling around Under Rageous and living the life of a borrower. The trolls have no idea how to escape the under-city, but for years have planned.

Poppy rules over her own little settlement of Pauper Trolls as her father was in fact a king at one point. She tries ruling over them with a pep in her step, attempts to make the most out of the borrower life they are living. Though secretly… she’s been planning a way to get back to the Troll Dome in hopes to find her sister still alive…

Unknowingly, another Trolls has been planning the same thing… Branch.

(Though I am still deciding whether to keep true to the original story where some of Poppys friends get captured basically forcing her and Branch to go back, or, she decides to team up with the gray troll and venture out to find their lost siblings…)

Meanwhile: On Floyd’s point of view. He along with Clay and another handle of Trolls are recaptured and taken back to the Troll Dome.

Unfortunately, Vaughn has been made aware of the escape and makes the Dome unescapeable…. For now.

As years pass, Vaughn has children of his own: Velvet and Veneer. Vaughn tends to keep this side of his business a secret from his children, but they grow curious and eventually come upon the Troll Dome where they venture inside. Seeing Rageons, all Trolsl go into hiding, except for Floyd, who’s ill at this point.

He is taken in by Veneer who nurses the little Troll back to health and eventually befriends him….

Unfortunately Floyd is there when the Montegue Manor is broken into and witnesses Vivian’s death. He also sees the change in Vaughn…

Flash forward, the twins are now seventeen… and about the same time Poppy and Branch return to the Troll Dome.

Without going to much into detail since I do want to make this into a story:

At this point the twins have ran away to Mount Rageous, and Branch returns to the Troll Dome to hear how his brother was taken by the Montegue twins years ago….

Somehow, someway, he discovers his brother is now being used by the twins and now his mission is to make it out of Under Rageous to the city above…. While Vaughn also has the same mission in mind as he discovers where his children are and who has them.

While Floyd also has a plan of his own to escape, and bring the twins with him…

Because it’s not them he’s trying to escape, but the Mistress…

…. To be continued (as a possible story :3 )

[25centsoda]

Tagged by @jediscribe! <3

Long Awaited, Unexpected summary: "Young padawan Luke Skywalker and his master Obi-Wan Kenobi get a visit from Inquisitors. It will change their lives—and Vader's—forever." Basically, Luke and Obi-Wan get drugged and taken by Inquisitors and Vader goes "omg is that my son" and hugs Luke while Obi-Wan is #suffering in the corner. The final chapter is partially written but needs to be finished.

Crawl Before You Can Fly is inspired by Ursula K. Le Guin's The Fliers of Gy, a short story within her book "Changing Planes", wherein some humans grow wings at age 18-19. It's a long, fever-intensive process that basically incapacitates you for a year. F in the chat for Luke, who was just starting this process when he went on the Cymoon-1 mission, and got discovered - and captured - by Vader. :) The fic will be a VERY long one, featuring Luke's entire year, going from "out of his mind with fever and sleeping all the time" to "got some functioning back but needs to learn how to operate these new limbs" to "learning to fly" to "fully functioning again now let's take down the government". I plan to write it as a oneshot collection, with installments of various lengths. Basically, it's a lot of whump and family bonding - and eventually murder! First installment will be Cymoon-1 and the lead-up thereto, then a 5+1 where Vader tries to get a feverish Luke to comprehend the "I am your father" reveal. Other planned installments include Piett #suffering, and Palpatine being delighted that he has a new propaganda piece in the new Imperial Prince. Luke has a rough time, but I'm having so much fun.

The Language of Love summary: Lighthouse keeper Din Djarin has finally left his bloody past behind him and lives on a secluded coastal island with his nonverbal son, Grogu. Life is quiet and routine until a mute merman washes up onshore and refuses to be thrown back into the ocean... | Ft Cara Dune, Moff Gideon, and Din et al getting dragged to the deep by Luke's father as both Din and Luke's pasts come back to haunt them. It's got AAC (based off of my boards and others found online), it's got Little Mermaid vibes, it's got murder, it's got magic, it's got complicated family stuff. I tried to finish it before the summer ended but then I got hella busy, and then Fliers of Gy took over my brain lmao. I have 3 chapters out of 5 written, the 4th chapter is started, and I have plans/ideas for the last two chapters.

Tagged here by @kimium!

Rules: Make a 24hr poll listing the titles of every WIP you want to work on. (It’s fine if you only have one, still make a poll for the vote count). Whichever WIP title gets the most votes, write 1 sentence for every vote received.

Here are your options…

These are the only options at the moment, sorry!

Tagging: @waythroughtheice @tyrantchimera @emeraldthelynx

Feel free to play or ignore!

[polutrope]

Very happy birthdays to you and Melesta! Wishing you both health and joy and freedom.

Would love a little scene between Finduilas and Turgon, in Valinor, "after." If you feel so moved.

🧡

Turgon and Finduilas, reembodied. Rated G, 1100 words. By @polutrope and @melestasflight. On AO3.

“Sorontië, Numentië, Asartië,” Turgon mutters to himself, looking from street corner to street corner, placing names upon the grid of Tirion. Strange that he, who built a city in its image, now finds the grandeur and pulse of Tirion too much to bear. Perhaps it is only the freshness of his renewed body, but everything is so dazzling here, too clean, and the reflected light off all the marble and painted glass hurts his eyes. 

As his gaze travels between stalls, carriages, and ornate facades, they land upon one nearby who had until now escaped his notice for how still they stood amidst the city’s perpetual movement. 

“Findaráto?” he says, half to himself, because he knows that hair, that peculiar shade of gold as if a bloom of Laurelin has just burst open. But no, he has seen Finrod since he returned — this figure is slight, delicate, as Finrod was in his youth. Not as he is now, in his second life, a warrior reborn as their people’s crown prince.   

The body turns and the face that greets him is both alike to Finrod’s and distinctly not. A deep frown adorns her fair features. “How many more in this city will take me for my uncle?”

“I am sorry, lady,” Turgon says, nodding in greeting — and it is only when he lifts his chin and looks at her that her words fully settle in his mind. “Your… uncle?”

Her frown deepens and she looks as if she is ready to throw yet another accusation at him, but she is interrupted by a jewelry seller thrusting an elaborate hair ornament practically into her face.

“Would the lady Finduilas like to try this piece instead?” The seller is almost shouting in her excitement. “It is our latest, created by Lúletinwë.” When Finduilas does not react, the seller adds, sympathetically: “Tirion’s most famous designer of this century.” 

Finduilas — Turgon knows the name. Could it be? Finduilas of Nargothrond, Orodreth’s daughter, Finrod’s most beloved niece? Finduilas now glares at the jewelry seller, the exasperation written upon her face.

Turgon cannot blame her. He looks from her face to the ornament: it is like a malformed octopus made of gems, lined with the most ostentatiously enormous, poorly cut, and ill-matched ruby and emerald crystals Turgon has ever seen. 

“Return that hideous clump of rock to the bowels of the earth where it belongs!” Turgon blurts, physically recoiling. He shudders. “Better yet, cast it into the Void.”  

The jewelry seller’s eyes widen in shock, her jaw dropping. Turgon winces; his mouth has run away with him, again. He considers apologizing, taking back the offense, when a thunder of laughter sounds at his side. Finduilas is roaring, doubled over, and then she grabs Turgon’s forearm to steady herself.

“Oh, that’s the best insult I have yet heard in this new life,” Finduilas says when she regains control of herself. “You, lord, curse as well as the very uncle you just mistook me for, when he loses his famed calm.” Then she turns to the seller, whose face has now hardened like baked clay: “We shall not be requiring your assistance further, lady. I thank you.”

Finduilas leads him away, sliding her hand into the bend of his elbow. Turgon glances over his shoulder for one last look at the jewel-seller: she still glares after them, and this prompts a laugh to leap from his throat. 

“It is good to meet you, Finduilas,” he says. “I did not know you were…” It has not become easy, yet, knowing how to speak of having been dead.

“Yes, I am. Returned to life.” Finduilas smiles gently as she turns to him, her earlier frown replaced by mirth. “The pleasure is all mine and please excuse my impatience; I am yet new to this business of living again. May I know your name, also, oh saviour from the terrors of Tirion’s fashion?”

“Oh, yes, I am sorry, I–” Turgon feels the heat in his cheeks, knows that he is making a fool of himself. He feels a child, sometimes, who has to learn the simplest things all over, such as how to place words together… what to call himself. What does he call himself, to this child of Beleriand, reborn in Aman, who never knew him as anything but — what did she know him as? How did Finrod speak to her of him? What did she think of him, the distant King of the Noldor who stayed ensconced in his mountain valley while Nargothrond fell to ruin? 

He settles for the name he carried for nigh five centuries. “I am Turgon." Finduilas’ brows arch: in surprise, joy, or fear, Turgon cannot tell, and he hastens to add: “But you may call me uncle, if you wish.”

Finduilas does not seem to share his doubts, the ruin of her fair city so far away that she barely remembers it. “The famed Turgon!” she cries heartily. “My uncle has barely spoken of anything else since your return. At last I meet you!” Then, Finduilas tosses herself into his embrace, arms tightening around his ribs. The top of her hair tickles Turgon’s cheek; she is of Idril’s height, almost to the inch. Turgon holds her against himself. It is the most at home he has felt since returning – strange as that may seem, embracing a kinswoman he never knew in his previous life. But there is something about Finduilas being both new and familiar that sets him at ease.

They pull apart, still smiling, and Turgon says: “If you are still looking for some adornment, I have just remembered a florist where my daughter – long ago – often went to pick out an assortment of exotic flowers brought up from the south. She would arrange them in a wreath herself.” Finduilas’ face brightens at what she hears and Turgon summons the courage to offer his help. “If you would like, I will take you there, for it is not easy to find.” 

Passingly, he wonders if the shop is still there at all, but does not speak this thought aloud. 

“Lead the way!” Finduilas agrees with a grin more golden than her fair tresses.

Turgon takes her hand, recalling the weight of his young daughter’s hand as he once led her through this crowded marketplace. He guides Finduilas from the bright bustle, towards the secluded, peaceful neighbourhood on the southern slope of Túna where he remembers a quaint little flower shop, down a narrow lane. As they walk in comfortable silence, warmth, as sweet as honeyed tea, fills his chest. 

He has made his first friend in this new Tirion.

Birthday Prompts

[seagreenlaurin]

sweet dreams 🌙⭐️

[sieglinde-freud]

oh im obsessed with this actually… who ever wrote this one i am kissing u on the forehead and hugging you real tight… inigo is such a loverboy im kkkhhhhhhijnsdnfng

[aikoiya]

Nah, it's chill.

Merry Christmas, BTW! I hope your years' been a good'n!

Anyway, this is gonna mostly be based on my hc of what happens to Dash after high school.

Dash After High School - If ya wanna take a look-see.

But the overall idea is that Dash's parents were abusive, but in polar opposite ways.

Whereas his mom, Freida, was negligent & a bit of a wino, his dad, Harvey, was a lot like how Dash is at school: loud, confrontational, & just an outright a-hole.

(Looking at the brief picture we see of the 2, I sort of see Freida as the one with money & Harvey as a bad decision she made. They have cash, but the guy was wearing a white sleeveless shirt &, I think, jeans. My guess is, he was a jock in school, but either his family was poor, he was disowned, or he burned all his family's money by making terrible business decisions. Either way, when I look at him, I see either a bum or a skinflint.)

Anyway, he didn't normally get physical with his abuse, but he definitely got verbal... & loud. But he would also push Dash to "be the best" & was never completely satisfied with anything Dash accomplished, who despite resenting him, also wanted to make his dad proud.

Thing is, dude is also stupid macho in the really bad way, as well as low-key misogynistic & homophobic.

Like, there's not agreeing with a person's lifestyle, but supporting their decision to live their lives & make their own decisions regarding said lives... & then there's the assholes who legitimately hate those who prefer their own sex to the opposite.

Harvey is the latter... Adores his baby daughter, though. (But then again, everyone loves Sarah. Including Dash. If that curly-haired little angel were put in danger, then even the strangely cowardly Dash would throw down with a ghost. Seriously, that little girl is the sunny spot in Dash, Harvey, & Freida's lives & woe be anyone who dare harm a hair on her adorable little head. She's like Shirley Temple meets Annie & I love her.)

The problem comes in that Dash is bi. (Technically, I hc him as bisexual, heteroromantic, but Harvey would exactly hear that last part before exploding.)

Basically, this, plus all the expectations & pressure put on him from not only his dad, but also the school, his mom's emotional manipulations & gaslighting, the fact that Dash really isn't doing all that great academically, the clock is ticking, & this little line from the literal first episode of Danny Phantom:

"These are the best years of my life. After High School its all downhill for me. How am I suppose to enjoy my glory days eating mud?!" Which, woof!

And, he was bound to only react in one of a few ways. It's just that the reaction he chose was to be a dick.

However, I think the reason that he targets Danny is partly the fact that despite how... peculiar the Fentons are in-general. Yet, despite that, Jack & Maddie are very obviously caring & love their kids to pieces. Sure, they're not perfect, but they love & support their kids & would do anything for them.

So... I think that at least part of it is that Dash is jealous of Danny. (Though, I don't think that's all there is to it.)

Also, Danny's just too much of a little snarkmouth, so I doubt that he only started cracking wise at Dash after he died & came back. Which, if so, then that most likely adds a bit to it.

But... & this part I'm not totally sure about, but it's possible... either Dash is p.o.-ed at Danny for trying to keep him away from his sister or...

He may have... a teeny-tiny bit of a crush... Possibly a hate-crush that shows itself in the form of "pigtail pulling." Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Now, this is honestly just based on what all we know of him in canon, so I very well could've misinterpreted things.

Sorry if any of this sounds bad, I like to get a bit experimental with my hcs.

I’d like to take a quick minute to talk about Danny and Groose interacting.

At the very first glance, Danny was instantly reminded of Dash. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t intimidate him, but when he stayed longer and saw how he actually acted, he realized quickly how friendly he really was. Groose was much friendlier and pretty clever. He’s watching his strength when interacting with others, and apologizes when he slips up.

If someone outshines him in some way, he doesn’t get upset and try to bully them, but instead he compliments them and often tries to learn from them.

From Groose’s perspective, Sky had warned him that the new member was a little freaked out since he’s never been to Skyloft, so he expected Danny to be pretty nervous. He didn’t fail to notice the fact that he was intimidated by him, though. It hurt a little, but Groose also understood that a height difference like this often startled people a little.

Then he started getting a little interested in stars. He told Danny about it, and it slowly turned into Groose learning a lot about the night sky from Danny. Next thing they knew, they’re friends!

[k-yujin]

read the tags !! // officially quit