#you don't have other ideas for this prompt

[captain-huggy-bear]

Scratchy

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, smut - lil' spicy, lil' racy, lil' bit of Lottie is feeling touch starved and it shows 😅 Not for the kiddos at all! Get off my lawn!

Summary: Quinn will do most things to make you laugh, his favourite thing about growing out his beard is the fact that it's a weapon of mass destruction when breaking that laugh out of you. It also makes you a little weak at the knees and hot behind the collar too which is a bonus.

Notes: I haven't kissed someone in 3 years, okay? I miss the scratch of a beard and Quinn has such a good beard at the moment, leave me alone! Don't judge me, just enjoy the fruits of my imagination.

Also Merry Xmas/Happy Holidays for tomorrow, this is my present to you all :) xx

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It's a still sort of evening, the sort of dim, cozy quiet that only ever seems to happen when the night is dark, and you've made your way back to Quinn's apartment after a date to the silence of his apartment.

The lights are low, but warm because Quinn had changed all the bulbs to a soft amber after you expressed how much you missed the warm glow of the old street lights from your childhood. You're curled up underneath Quinn's arm on his white sofa, both of you pretending you're watching Home Alone but really it's just white noise as the two of you cuddle up together. The TV taking a background role to the two of you, the main actors in this play.

Technically, you should consider getting your shoes on, grabbing your jacket and going back to your apartment, the clock ticking closer and closer to 11pm, but you both know that's not going to happen. It's a Saturday and Sunday means no work for you, Quinn has a bit of a gap before he has another game, and there's absolutely zero urgency or desire from you to leave the spot you're in. You've never been more comfortable.

Every date night goes the same way. Quinn picks you up from your apartment, bringing flowers to the door and wowing over your outfit. Looking at you like it's the first time as he calls you beautiful or pretty or any other compliment he can think of, before taking you to dinner somewhere the two of you have been wanting to try. Dinner is always fun, the two of you bantering back and forth, feet hooking together under the table, and hands twisted together on the tablecloth whenever you're not eating. Then Quinn always asks if you want to come back to his for a movie, every single time you say yes as he helps you into your coat and into his car. Like clockwork you always end up curled up together on the sofa, something playing in the background that neither of you are really paying attention to and like always you end up staying the night, the spare toothbrush now not spare, but yours, and a couple of drawers holding your essentials for the inevitable sleepover. Sometimes Quinn jokes that you might as well move in, except it's not really a joke and you both know that the minute your lease is up you'll do just that.

Quinn's cheek is pressed into the crown of your head as you lay back together across the sofa, your legs are tangled like tree roots, one of his hands resting on your thigh that's slung over his lap, the other wrapped around your shoulders, fingers brushing soothing circles into your upper arm. Your eyes feel heavy in that soft, comfortable sort of way, not sleepy but relaxed as you lean into the crook of his neck, pressing the odd kiss to his shoulder every so often - lazy, content, sweet.

He loves moments like this, where he's not captain, just Quinn, just your boyfriend. Where he can watch the way your shoulders relax around him, feel the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips, the press of your lips to his shoulder. It's that sort of slow intimacy that has him tilting your head towards him, hand cupping your cheek as you rearrange yourselves to face each other.

"You're so pretty, baby..." It's a mumble, soft and sweet, his bottom lip poking out just ahead of his top. You're tempted to catch it between your own but don't get a chance before he's pressing his lips to your forehead, dragging them down across your temple and cheek.

The scratch of his beard tickles slightly and it has you twitching and pursing your lips to contain a giggle. That little shake of your shoulders as you try to hide it has Quinn stopping just shy of your lips, hovering in place with that delectable smirk of his that he gets from time to time (but not often enough).

"Does my beard scratch, baby?"

"Nooo..." You deny it even as he teasingly brushes his cheek against yours, purposefully brushing the bristles of his beard against your skin until you squirm in his lap, twisting yourself up and above him to avoid it. Your hands planted firmly on his chest as if that will keep him away from you and keep your skin free of beard burn. As if you're strong enough to stop him if he truly wants something.

It's not a sensation you actually dislike despite the way you scurry out of his reach, in fact, he knows you love when he grows out his beard. The scratch of it always sends little shivers down your spine, but it sets your nerve endings off in a way that always makes you giggle like a little kid. It's cute, has been since the first time he kissed you and you pulled away laughing in such an endearing way he couldn't even be offended.

Quinn doesn't let you scurry away for long, flipping the two of you until you're on your back underneath him, he shifts a pillow under your neck as he does so. A small gesture but one that speaks volumes about his priority of making sure you're always comfortable. His hands bracket your head, nose brushing against yours as he stares down at you under his lashes, big eyes softening at the corners. He's so beautiful that you think you might combust in that moment, having all his attention on you like that makes you squirm.

"You're such a liar. This doesn't scratch? At all?" He doesn't give you much time to answer. Long fingers and wide palm of his hand gently encircling your neck, thumb hitting just underneath your jaw, holding you in place as he scrapes his face against yours roughly, the scratch of his beard across your cheek forcing a giggle from your throat that has him stopping briefly just to savour it. It's one of his favourite sounds.

The reprieve doesn't last long, Quinn moves, rubbing his cheek down from your own to the sensitive skin of your neck. Your legs kicking out at the sensation, fingers grasping the back of his shirt as you laugh harder, despite all protests you lean your head away to give him more room.

"Oh, yeah, this totally doesn't scratch! Not a tickle, huh? Such a liar, pretty girl." He rubs his beard across your neck and shoulder, the sensation has your toes curling, a hand sliding up his neck and into his hair, fingers gripping tight to silky brunet strands.

"Quinn!" You laugh it out, but there's a hint of desire riding your tone, eyelids fluttering closed. The scratch of his beard, one of your guilty pleasures, a secret you think you have kept well, but that Quinn knows all about. Has ever since the first time he shaved and your eyes held nothing but disappointment that you tried your best to hide, same way he knows you love when he keeps his hair a little longer. You're terrible at poker.

"Nuh, this is your punishment for lying to me!" He stops briefly to press a kiss into the underside of your jaw, even then his beard scratches as he does it, an inescapable sensation that has your fingers tightening in his hair, "Not really a punishment though is it, baby?"

"Shut up..." You mumble it out, embarrassment riding your tone even as your toes curl and your back arches into him, a leg rising to wrap around his and pull him closer.

"Oh, what? Cause you're embarrassed? My pretty girl's embarrassed that she likes my beard?" He brushes his cheek back against yours again for emphasis, nose trailing across your cheek.

"Quuiiinnnn..."It's an embarrassed sort of whine you let out as you turn your head into the pillow behind you, cheeks warm as a squirm out of embarrassment and something like desire winds its way to your stomach.

His fingers grip your jaw, turning your face back towards him, not allowing you more than a moment to hide away from him. Quinn's lips find their way to yours, open mouthed and soft as he captures your bottom lip between his. He lowers himself down to you, body squishing yours into the sofa, hips rocking against yours in a targeted fashion. You pull at his hair as you writhe beneath him, legs trying to pull him closer, a sigh breathed against his mouth like a prayer.

"You were saying?"

"Shut up..." It's an absent sort of mumble, unable to really think of anything else to say when he's this close to you, this warm, when all you really want is for him to kiss you again.

"Is that the only thing your pretty little head can come up with right now?" He's being mean as he squishes your cheeks together, lips a breath from yours as he mimicks you, "'Quinn!' 'Shut up!'"

"You're being mean..." You pout even as the familiar burning twisting sensation stirs in your gut, even as you struggle not to wiggle your hips against him and pull him in for a kiss.

"I guess I should get off you then, since I'm so mean?" He starts to move away, your head shaking vehemently no at the illusion of distance, "Oh, no? Thought I was mean?" Quinn attempts to push off and move away from you, arms defined and strong, straightened up next your head as he pretends to pull off you.

"Stay, please?" Your legs lock around him like a vice as he attempts to back up and put distance between you under the pretence of leaving, teasing you even as he has absolutely no intention of actually going anywhere.

"Is that all you want, sweet girl? Just me to stay right," he punctuates the end of his sentence with a roll of his hips back between yours "here?" He's rock hard against you, but he doesn't really care, this isn't really about him, it's about you and all he wants is to get you off. He could care less if he cums tonight. Not when you're whining into his neck and looking up at him like you might cry if he pulls away from you right now. Clingy and needy, desperate for him in a way that has his heart. He loves the idea that its him you want, only him, that no one else can fill that space.

Your neck almost cracks with how rapidly you shake your head, because as much as you want him to stay pressed against you, warm and heavy and delicious, you're not sure if that's enough anymore. Not when Quinn's commanding your attention, domineering over you like the captain he is.

"Use your words, baby, 'm not a mind reader, can't read that pretty little brain of yours." It's breathed out against the shell of your ear, the first stop before his lips trail down the side of your neck. This time the scratch of his beard is anything but funny, a little whimper leaving your throat as he sucks a hickey into your neck, one he's determined to make stay for at least a week, next to the beard burn you're definitely going to have as well.

"Want you, Quinny" Your fingers make their way back to his hair, its grown out so far in the season, long enough for you to tug on it when his own long fingers slide between you and tap your sternum.

"I'm right here, baby." It's frustrating and even more so as you squirm because you can feel his smirk against your neck, know he's purposefully acting like he doesn't know that you want his fingers in you.

"No, want you." you try to emphasis the point without words, too shy, always too shy to say what you're actually thinking and wanting and it always gets to Quinn. God, you're so fucking cute, how you refuse to tell him even while you're rutting against him and tugging on his hair.

"Here?" His fingers slip further down, hand pressed against your belly before slipping around to your waist, grip tight but not enough to leave marks.

You shake your head again, frustration building as you try to wiggle his hand lower.

"No? Mmm.." A kiss lands on the front of your throat and down to the dip where your sternum starts, while his hand moves again this time to your outer thigh, pulling you leg tighter against his hip, "Here?"

"Baby..." your voice actually cracks and breaks and when he pulls back to look at you there are tears in your eyes, frustrated tears that get to him and make him more than a little weak for you. He loves you too much to keep teasing you, pressing a kiss to your lips before mumbling against them.

"Oh, I see, you want me here instead, huh?" Quinn presses his thigh up between your legs, pressing firm against your cunt. You really can’t help it as you roll your hips against the intrusion, the fabric of your underwear brushing against your sensitive clit with each roll. It's an attempt, an effort to find some sort of friction, some sort of relief from the desire that burns in your belly and has your panties slick.

"Sweet girl wants to ride my fingers till she gets off? I got you, baby, don't worry." He doesn't expect a response and he doesn't get one, not really, just a babbling mess of words that broadens his smirk because you’re so pretty rutting against his thigh as you lie underneath him. You tug at his hair so hard he nearly hisses, but he's taken worse hits in a game before and he'd let you pull all his hair out to hear the way you whine under him.

Quinn's mouth covers yours at the same time as his hand slides up your thigh, long fingers pushing your panties to the slide quickly. Even quicker is the way he slides one finger into you, thumb seeking your clit in double time, as you moan into his mouth, hips wriggling against his hand.

"You're so fucking wet, baby, this all for me?" He murmurs it against your lips, thumb circling your clit as he presses a second finger into you, curling them until he finds that spongy little spot inside you, the spot that has you crying out his name and gasping for air, back arching off of the sofa and towards him.

There's not much mercy from Quinn as he thrusts his fingers into you, each time determined to curl against that same spot, his lips kissing from your mouth to behind your ear, sucking and licking hickies into your skin like your his own personal Monet painting.

It’s a third finger stretching you open, eased by the sheer amount of wetness that you drip with, and the way his beard scratches at the delicate skin of your neck, creating a shivery sort of delight through you, that has you cumming so hard and so fast that you think he might have broken a world record. You're gripping so tight around Quinn's fingers that he worries he might lose circulation in them.

You whine and moan his name so loud that he’s grateful he lives alone, no roommates, no brothers, no parents. Your body shivers and rolls, tensing and relaxing as your orgasm rolls through you in waves, as Quinn works you through it, thumb rubbing your clit and fingers still working against you but more gently this time, careful of your overstimulated nerves. “Fuck, there we go, I got you, baby...look at you, so fucking pretty."

Your hips jerk away from his touch, overstimulated and overly sensitive, Quinn lets you push his hand away, drags it out of your panties and catches your eye as he slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking you from his skin. He hums like you're the sweetest thing he's ever tasted and in his opinion you might just be.

His hand, still wet from his spit, cups your cheek gently. You press your cheek into it, eyes blinking up slowly at him as he rubs soft circles there. Soft and tender as he waits for you to catch your breath and come back down from it all, as his eyes watch you for any ounce of discomfort.

“You okay, baby?”

"Mmm...?" Quinn can't help but chuckle at the way you look up at him a little dumb smile on your face, eyes half-lidded and hazy. He’d be worried if I hadn’t seen that look on your face before.

"That good, huh? Got you a little stupid, baby?"

"Mmmm..." Quinn presses soft kisses across your face. Hitting the high points of your cheeks, the top of your forehead, the tip of your nose and the end of your chin. Careful as he helps you come down from it all, you start coming too a little, worried as you call out that he hasn't cum yet and he just shushes you. Tells you this wasn't about him, that he's fine and really, he is. He's happy just servicing you tonight, he knows he'll get his reward in the morning, the soft sort of sex that's all tender and sweet, the best kind.

He eases himself off you, even as you whine about it, hands and fingers grabbing at him, trying to pull him close again, always clingy after you cum.

“Need to get you cleaned up and ready for bed, baby...'m not goin' anywhere, don't worry.” Quinn's hands find yours, pulling you up with him as he stands from the sofa.

He's gentle as he guides you and your wobbly legs to the bathroom, as he helps you undress fully and stand under the warmth of the shower. His hands soft as he washes between your legs and over your sweat soaked skin, pressing soft soothing kisses into the beard burn and hickeys across your neck, even as he smirks proud of himself, of the marks he's left on your skin, claiming you as his for anyone to see.

He's careful as he washes your hair and helps you remove your makeup that has smudged. He's steady and sure as he helps you into one of 'your' favourite t-shirts, one you stole from him and claimed months ago.

You breathe out a soft sigh when you finally curl up under the covers with him, his body engulfing yours in his arms, pulling you back tight against him. You feel safe, so utterly at peace that it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep in Quinn's arms, even as he keeps his eyes on you with a soft smile, more than happy to stay awake just a little longer, just to capture this moment for a little while.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

God, Rest Ye Merry

Warnings: kidnap and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: You're sick and you don't think things can get much worse until they do.

Character: God the Bounty Hunter

Day Twenty-Four of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt -i'm too sick to go anywhere!

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

It’s the happiest time of year and you couldn’t be more miserable. Your head is pounding, your nose is stuff, lips cracked from having to breathe through your mouth, and you just want to go to sleep and never wake up. Still, your body is too addled with the flu to allow you that peace. 

Watching the snow through the window, you dig deep down to find the strength to go out. You shudder as you hook a mask over your ears and bend the wire across your nose. As much as you’d love to share the cheer, you’re not that type of person. 

You take your reusable bag and your keys and set out. You pull your hood up as you emerge into the white swirl. The fur around the edge blocks out your peripherals and before you is an endless sprawl, untouched by shovel or plow. It isn’t far to the pharmacy; across the street and down the next corner. 

You trudge through towards the prize of more cough drops and possibly some vitamin C. You’ve gone through most of your supplies, not having bothered to replenish since the last time you had a cold. You’ve been lucky for so long that it has to be absolutely horrid this time. 

You kick through the drifts. The snow is getting deeper by the minute. Some might relish the festive fall but you’re not into it. Thankfully, you’re staying in for the holidays. Not that you have much choice with this chesty cough. 

The snow dampens the sound and you slow as you come in sight of the pharmacy. The silence is eerily still despite the winds sweeping the flakes over the blanketed ground. You dust the snow from your hood and pivot to see around you. You’re the only one desperate enough to be out on Christmas Eve, aside from the poor retail employees sentenced to work in purgatory for those last-minute sales. 

You press on and enter the pharmacy with the jangle of the bell above. You do your best to kick the snow off before you cross the threshold. You pass the shelves of Hallmark cards and wrapping paper and pull your hood down. You read the hanging signs of the aisle and drag your treads towards the cough and cold section. 

As you turn down that aisle, the bell on the door rings again. Strange, you didn’t see anyone on the street. It could be someone who works down the next street or someone brave enough to drive in this. You stop before the shelves of cough drops and get the extra menthol. You might try the vapour rub too. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get some electrolytes too. 

You spend a bit more than you should on your haul but at this point, you’d sell yourself for some relief. You bring it all to the counter as another pair of footsteps softly trace the rows behind you. You pay and the girl behind the till puts it all in a paper bag. You choke back a cough and thank her. 

You pull your hood up in expectation of your delve back into the elements and hug the bag to your chest. Your head slumps as the short walk back seems a Tolkien-ish trek in your condition. You push through the door with your shoulder and slow as you step into the calf-deep downfall. 

You get about halfway down the street. You’re panting as your legs ache and your chest thrums. You look ahead of you as the soft crush of snow comes from behind you. You blink as your head pulses and you turn slowly as you try to see past your furry hood. 

Not fast enough. The snow cushions your fall as you’re thrown into the piles. Your bag falls out of your arms as you murmur and fight weakly against the powder and your own weakness. Your struggle is short and pathetic as the white fades to black, the world and all your agony with it. 

💝

You cough yourself awake. Your throat feels as if it’s lined with shards of glass. You groan and chatter as a chill washes over you. Your arms are heavy as you drag them up to hug yourself in an effort to ward off the cold. 

There’s a tug on your wrist as you do. Your lashes flutter and your head lolls as you raise your hand shakily. The leather cuff below your hand blurs in your hazy vision. You pull again, the resistance enough to deter you. What is that? 

You cough and use your other hand to wipe your nose. What’s going on? What happened to you? You just wanted some relief and now... 

You remember falling. Did you trip? No, something knocked you over. You’re sure of it.  

You wince and force your eyes open, even as they ache. You peer around the dim space. You lay on a thin mattress on a metal frame. There are two pillows, one under your head, another beside you, a grey duvet over you, and that cuff on your wrist. You lift your hand again and examine the chain attached to it. It trails over the edge. 

What the fuck? You’re too sick to even think about trying to get it off. Your eyes scan the shadowy walls, your scalp slaked in cold sweat, and you shiver again. There’s an electric heater glowing orange like the doorway to hell in the corner of the room, and a folding table shrouded in the dim. 

All this because you wanted some cough drops. You shake your head, sending another echo of heaviness through it. You whimper and try to touch your temple, the attempt drawn short by the restraint. 

“What’s wrong with you?” The voice is like gravel. 

You flinch and lift your head, searching the room. Something shifts in the corner and the figure steps closer, his silhouette just discernible against the dark. You scoff and send yourself into a hacking fit. What a stupid question. 

“I’m... sick,” you rasp. 

He’s silent. He moves around as you try to see him clearer. He goes to the table, still nothing more than a fuzzy blob to you. Something crinkles as he bends and he hauls up the paper bag onto it. He peels open the tear in its side. 

He turns and hesitates. He comes around the foot of the bed and the heater gives light to his features. You see him clearer as the single metal lamp next to you illuminates him completely. His features are sharp and stony, his expression emotionless. He holds out the pack of cough drops, almost cluelessly. 

“Will this help?” 

You frown. You sigh but it catches in your scratchy throat. You reach for the lozenges. He lets you take them. He watches you tear open the package and then unwrap one of the drops. You shove it in your mouth and groan. 

“Do you feel better?” He asks. 

You squint at him, “not really. They’re just menthol... for my throat.” 

“Oh.” 

What’s wrong with him? Hasn't he ever had a cold? Bigger question, why did he bring you here? 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says as if he can read your mind. You can’t help but show your discomfort. “I could but I won’t.” 

You frown at him. Did he have to say that? 

“You’re sick.” 

You nod. 

“And alone.” 

You don’t move. 

“My family--” 

“You said you couldn’t go this year. Too expensive to take the train.” 

You snap your teeth shut. How does he know that? You look down at your wrist. He does too. 

“It’s for safety,” he explains but that doesn’t make sense to you. 

“Why...” you begin the question but can’t decide which one would get the right answers. Probably none of them. 

“Take another,” he points to the cough drops. You’re still sucking on the other one. You shake your head and drop the pack on the blanket.

“Won’t help,” you croak. 

He blinks and his blue eyes round, “what will?” 

You just stare at him. You’re half-sure this is a demented fever dream and you’re currently face down in the snow, slowly sinking into hypothermic delusions. He twists on his heel and marches away. He grabs the bag, cradling it to keep the contents inside, and you brace yourself as he comes back your way. 

He puts it on the bed and sifts through. He holds up the large bottle of orange electrolytes. “It’s for babies.” 

You push your elbows into the bed and sit up. He shifts closer. “You should relax.” 

“I can’t,” you say hoarsely and reach for the bottle. “Elecrolytes. Help...” 

“Keep you hydrated,” he finishes. “Makes sense. What else?” 

He reaches inside and takes out the vapour rub. He examines the tin. He untwists the lid and gives it a deep sniff that makes his eyes water. 

“Stinky.” 

“Here,” you reach for it but he keeps it away from you as he reads the tiny writing on it. “Spread across chest...” he mutters as he reads then his eyes flick to you, “take your shirt off.” 

“What?” You exclaim then cover your mouth as you cough yourself halfway into oblivion. 

“I’ll put it on for you. Like it says.” 

“I can do it...” your voice crackles. 

You don’t have time you react as he reaches for you. He shoves the blanket down then tugs on your sweatshirt, drenched in your feverish excess. You squeak but can’t resist him. He strips it over your head as you writhe helplessly. 

You cross your arms over your bra as he pushes his fingers into the menthol rub. As he extends his hand towards you, you shy away. You crush the pillow as he presses his fingertips to your skin and smears the cream over your skin. Your heart is pounding. 

“You shouldn’t be afraid,” he says as his touch lingers and he brings his hand down to feel your heartbeat. “I’m taking care of you.” 

You furrow your brow and stare at him, in confusion, in horror. You have no idea who he is or what he wants, at this point, you’re rooting for the flu to win. He slowly peels away his hand and caps the tin. He turns and searches around, dissipating back into the shadows. 

He re-emerges as he wipes his fingers. He watches you from the foot of the bed as you grab your sweatshirt and pull it back on. He grips the two fingers he used to apply the cream and twists his fist around them and the cloth. 

“Are you better now?” He asks. 

You close your eyes and sink back into the bed. You can’t. You don’t have the energy for this. 

“Not yet.” 

“Oh...” he utters as he looms still. “Well, when you are, let me know.” 

You snort. The way he speaks, the way he just stares, it’s like he’s missing something. It’s just as scary as the cuff on your arm. 

You open one eye and find him still there, watching. 

“God.” He says. You open your other eye and tilt your head.  

“God?” You repeat. 

“That’s me.” 

You drop your head again and exhale. Right, so, maybe you are dead. 

[dalliancekay]

Aziraphale loves Crowley but...

(A clickbait title? Me? Possibly)

There's this thought rattling in my brain for a good while and I have to try to get it out.

So most of the fandom seems to operate under the impression that Crowley loves Aziraphale unreservedly (since Eden) and that he is waiting for the angel to catch up with him.

This is evident across metas here, and many posts and comments elsewhere. Even fics (if I'm permitted to say that) keep dancing around the idea that Crowley never knows where he stands. It's not that obvious how Aziraphale feels about Crowley (especially to Crowley). Because Aziraphale is forever denying their connection (as if he didn’t have good enough reason) and/or also that Crowley, who is always open about his feelings, is waiting for Aziraphale to finally admit at some point (sooner than later please) how he feels so they can be together (...I'm not going there today...).

But I did have discussions with people from other countries and cultures. Notably @sayuri-of-the-valley who told me that most people in their country would assume Aziraphale is the smitten one and it's not so obvious how Crowley feels (he might be just toying with the angel?).

So I've been thinking about how Aziraphale feels from what we see.

In Before the Beginning, which is their first encounter, Aziraphale is immediately taken by the sweet, pretty, enthusiastic angel who seems completely oblivious to Aziraphale's hopes to be noticed.

We do not know if they meet again as angels or how long after their meeting the Great War happens. I would think this is not their only encounter. But it could be. I think they became friends and at some later point Angel!Crowley asked Aziraphale to join in the rebellion (or at least come with him to hang out with the guys and find out what it's about). But forever cautious Aziraphale warned him that it's not a good idea and refused and ... Crowley Fell.

Next time they see each other is in Eden.

They seem to recognise each other and Crawley is clearly pretty happy to see Aziraphale who does not introduce himself but Aziraphale gently prompts the demon to introduce himself.

Aziraphale seems a little unsure how they stand at first ... ...and I think it's because of what has transpired before the Fall (is Aziraphale forgiven?). But as Crawley gently teases him about the recently passed events, Aziraphale is assured and trusts Crawley as if nothing much changed between them and he readily admits he's given away his sword to the demon. (The truth of which he does not disclose to God Herself.)

Their relationship progresses as far as it can in the circumstances over the next centuries and millennia, they both care and look after each other. Until the next big heart-breaking 'break-up' happens. An impossible ask.

You can see how this request basically pierces Aziraphale's heart. He would prefer they don't see each other again than give in to such extraordinarily dangerous request. Out of the question! This would mean the end of existence for Crowley. He would not just be discorporated, not 'just' taken away. He'd be gone.

If they truly don't see each other for almost 80 years, this must have hurt so so deeply.

Next they see each other then, it's 1941. I know some people HC that Crowley slept until then but I think it's very unlikely. He seems to know what is happening with WWII, and besides, he has his car, which he says he has from new and you wouldn't buy a 1926 Bentley new in 1940.

So back to the husbands. Aziraphale might very well think he will never be forgiven for his resolute refusal of handing Crowley the one thing that can so easily simply wipe him from existence.

When Crowley shows up in the church, Aziraphale yet again is not sure where he stands. Is he forgiven? What is Crowley coming to do? (No, I don't think Aziraphale thought Crowley was coming with revenge or anything similar, I assume it's as he says, as Aziraphale assumes he's there because of his job, to do something for Hell). But Crowley assures him that is not the case and they fall into their usual bickering.

And all is well. Aziraphale breathes out and THEN Crowley remembers to save his books.

And Aziraphale knows he's forgiven.

When 1967 comes around and he hears about Crowley's frankly insane decision to get some humans to source holy water for him, the angel breaks his own heart and hands Crowley a double walled, securely closed vessel with the dangerous substance just because it's the safer option.

The next break up is...

After that they 'see' each other when Aziraphale's (soul? essence?) discorporated self finds Crowley drinking in the pub.

Crowley tells Aziraphale he lost his best friend... What is Aziraphale thinking?

Yet again, I suppose he's unsure where he stands. He did after all made a decision to do something Crowley disagreed with. And Crowley left. Twice. Aziraphale didn't want to run. He was going to try and find a way to save the Earth even if it meant to try and talk to God and whatever consequences would follow from that.

But Crowley is so gentle with him as he tells him his home burned down. He even has the one book Aziraphale really needed, somehow saved. So Aziraphale asks for help. They can do this.

And they do.

So we see Aziraphale through aeons, looking up to Crowley, admiring his wit, integrity, being exasperated with him, trying to keep him safe - from unreasonable requests just as much as from rash decisions and words that can have severe consequences. Aziraphale is an angel who is unlike any other. He finds himself, long before the rebellion of half the Host is a thing, in knowledge that some things should not be mentioned or suggested or criticised and he tries to stop this lovely angel he just met from getting into trouble.

Which he keeps doing for millions of years...

However. It doesn't always work. The angel Falls. He is hurt and abandoned by the God who made him and deemed unforgivable. He is threatened and punished when he just wants to be himself and Aziraphale sees all of this and loves him and tries to keep him safe and he is not always succeeding, having to make more and more difficult decisions.

And Aziraphale doubts himself. Is he good enough. Is something wrong with him. We see how anxious he gets all the time. What is he doing wrong. They were never allowed to speak to each other about how they feel. For the longest time they didn’t even know how to name their feelings I’m sure. They didn’t make any promises.

They both hope, yes but where I see people HC that Crowley doubts an angel would unconditionally love a demon (maybe he does, but I don’t really see it - I think Crowley knows all that talk of fiends is just a cover), I also see that Aziraphale thinks he’s not good enough. That he can’t give enough and that it’s a problem (it is to some fans but if he’s ever holding back - ‘you go too fast for me Crowley’, it’s only ever to keep the demon safe).

But yes, I think Crowley thinks the chasm that can’t be overcome between them is the angel/demon one. Because She made him unforgivable. And Aziraphale thinks that their world would never allow them to be together (and he’s right) and he simply can’t agree to trying when it’s doomed to failure. If they run, how long would they have together? What kind of freedom would they have as hunted outcasts? So he keeps making these difficult decisions. And feeling so guilty for them.

The hardest of which we meet at the end of Season Two.

Aziraphale meets the Second in Command of the ruler of their world who 'invites' him to run Heaven. After Aziraphale refuses several times, we see him enter his home and tell Crowley that he got an offer and ask Crowley to come with him.

And Crowley. Says no.

And all the subsequent metas focus on how Crowley was betrayed by Aziraphale's 'decision', how Aziraphale does not deserve to be loved or wanted or be forgiven by the demon.

And how does Aziraphale feel?

Does Aziraphale still think he can be forgiven?

[midnight-mourning]

Christmas Spirit

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 12❄️❄️

woof, now we're REAL behind chat, apologies was busy but also like, feeling unwell, but here we are! hope you enjoy :)

Prompt: christmas request! Reader doesn't care for christmas since their relationship with their family isnt great and nearly ever christmas since they moved out included multiple fights or screaming matches; they just want to have a positive association with christmas and don't mind working on a holiday at their crazy but chill job with their favorite animatronic coworkers. And these fellow coworkers intend to make sure this christmas is a postive one even if theres silly mishaps here and there.

Word Count: 2048

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

When you realized the date this morning, to say your heart sunk into your chest was an understatement. Sure, maybe it was a bit dramatic to go from chipper and ready for the day, to dragging your feet out the door, but to be fair, this wasn't exactly your favorite time of year. So, you think you had a little bit of a pass. 

Though, as you slam open the door to the Daycare just a tad too harshly, spooking Sun whilst he was mid-decorating, you cringe. Maybe not too much of a pass. 

He shakes it off, however, bounding over to you as happily as ever. "Good morning Sunshine! And how are we today?"

You decide to brush off your mistake. Based on the current state of things, he's very excited about the coming holiday, and you'd hate to ruin that for him. 

"I'm doing well, Sunny. And what about you? The place looks great!" You motion to how already, the Daycare is already well on its way to being totally decorated. It's impressive, to say the least. You left less than 24 hours ago, though he probably has a lot more time on his hands than you. 

He puts a hand to his faceplate, waving the other bashfully. "Oh, we're just getting started! Would you like to help?"

"Ah, I don't want to um, get in your way at all." Not to mention even the idea of touching a decoration makes you want to fling it across the room. Despite how ridiculous a notion that is. You shake your head. "I'll just get stuff set up for the day as usual!"

Sun hesitates a moment, rays shrinking. "Oh, okay then! Well, if you change your mind, just let me know! Always happy to have your touch with these things."

You're too distracted by your own discomfort to acknowledge the compliment. Instead only offering a quick nod and a smile as you march over to the craft station and start preparing. 

You'd hope that would be the end of things, but you weren't so lucky. All throughout the day, both sides of the Attendant seem to be ever curious about your thoughts on different holiday plans they have, asking your opinion on this or that. Whether they realize it or not, you can feel your weariness about the topic growing worse, and paitence wearing thin. 

It was only a matter of time before you cracked, and it happens at probably the worst moment to do so; puppet time. 

Sun decided to put on a Christmas themed show—of course—and had all but insisted for your help. Again, not wanting to cause issues, you agree. However, it's easier said than done. 

"—And we all just enjoy the holidays so much, don't we friend?" Sun asks, ever in character with his hand puppet.

You chuckle, awkward. "We sure do!"

"What's your favorite part of the season?" His little character does a spin on the mini stage. "Mine is making cookies, oh oh! And playing out in the snow, and wrapping presents for my friends!"

For some reason the question—which should have been expected—throws you for a loop. "Oh, well, I don't really have anything in particular. But I'd love to hear more about your favorite activities!"

"Oh come on, everyone has something that's their favorite." He presses, unintentionally pushing your buttons. 

At that moment all you can think about is all the years of arguing, fights, yelling. Family members bickering about things that don't matter, and yet, won't talk to each other for weeks afterward because of some minor slip of the tongue. Feelings of being isolated, alone, and utterly miserable creep in. 

You can't help the words that slip out then. "Well, some of us don't like Christmas very much at all!" You say, voice over the top with fake cheer.

Sun seems to take the hint then and thankfully, recovers the show from there. You're a bit embarrassed to need the save. You didn't think you'd lose your composure over a silly puppet show, but apparently, you were wrong. 

It's when you're packing things up to get ready for naptime that Sun broaches the topic once more.

"You, you don't like Christmas, Starshine?" Sun asks, voice soft. 

You take a deep breath, then shake your head. "I, no, not really. No." You see Sun's rays shrink, and put your puppet-free hand up. "But it's okay! Really don't let me bum you out any. I'm sorry I lost my cool for a moment there. It won't, won't happen again."

Before you can speak on it any further, you turn away, heading to start getting naptime mats out and such. Had you not, you would have seen Sun's hand reaching out for you, concern and care clearly evident on his features. 

After that little incident, neither Attendant talks to you about the holiday in detail again. You still discuss activities as usual, but they don't ask specifics of you anymore. You're relieved, but you do feel bad. You hope to make it up to them by having an easy day of work on Christmas itself. 

Get some organization done, clean up some things that you've been putting off, that kind of thing. Hell, maybe you'll even tolerate some holiday music while you work too. 

When you walk inside bright and early on Christmas morning however, Sun nearly jumps out of his skin upon seeing you. At least, you think he would have if he did have skin, that is. 

"Sunbeam! Wha—what are you doing here today?" He rushes over to you. 

You smile and start taking off your coat. "I work today, Sun. Obviously."

After removing your hat and scarf, you grab your apron, brushing it off once or twice before clapping. "So, I was thinking we tackle the craft closet first and foremost, and then go from there with all our usual stuff, that sound good?"

When he doesn't answer you turn, only to jump when you realize he's right behind you, rays flicking side to side. He takes hold of your shoulders and bends to your level. 

"Starshine."

"Sun." You nod. 

His grip tightens for a moment, then loosens. He narrows his eyes. "We, are not. Working. On. Christmas."

"Well I'm already here—"

He shakes his head, picking you up suddenly. "Nope. Absolutely not. I won't allow it. If you're going to be here then we're going to make this right."

"Hey! Put me down! Where are you even taking me?" You kick your legs in vein, now slightly annoyed. Before you thought he was just joking, but now you realize he's dead serious. 

You get your answer when he sets you down in a bean bag. Taking a moment to snatch up a blanket with one hand and untie your apron with the other. Before you can blink, the blanket is laid across you, you have several Christmas themed stuffed animals surrounding you, there's a set of antlers on your head, along with a coloring book in your lap. 

Sun nods once down at you, hands on his hips. "Now, you get started on that and I'll get you some hot coco. Okay?"

"What, but—"

But he's already off again, "Don't move~ I'll be just a moment!"

Deciding that you're better off to indulge for a little bit, as opposed to outright protesting, you do as he asks. And, while not your favorite thing in the world, sitting and coloring in the peace of the Daycare, holiday music playing softly around you, is nice. 

Sun's gone for longer than you would have expected. Especially for just a cup of premade hot chocolate. But, when he eventually returns you do take the time to thank him for the quick break, that you appreciate the thought, and that you're ready to actually get started for the day. 

Surprisingly—suspiciously—he agrees. 

You won't admit to longing for the warmth of the cozy nest you leave as you stand, but the longing isn't allowed to last for long. Sun's hand is tightly wound with yours as he leads you out of the Daycare and towards the theater. 

You take a sip of your drink, confused but still following. "Um, did you want to start with the theater's supply closet then?"

"Friend, when I said no work on Christmas, I wasn't kidding." He stops just short of the entrance, energy now becoming more antsy. 

He lets go of your hand and you frown. "I told you it's alright, Sunny. I don't mind, honestly."

"I know! We know, but,"—he shakes his head—"We want to, change that. Make it up to you! If, you'll let us?"

He's looking to you now. You're hesitant, of course you are, but you can at least hear him out. "Sure, bud."

"If you don't like it, that's okay too! We just, wanted to try." He turns slightly and starts to open the door.

You open your mouth to respond but are instead taken aback by how pretty the theater looks. There's warm lights strung across the ceiling, decorations of red and green that sparkle. A medium sized tree with decorations laying nearby sits near the middle of the room. Snowflakes in all intricate patterns litter the space. There's a video of a yule log playing on the screen, and music softly twinkles around you. 

While not as intense as the Daycare in terms of the level of Christmas-vibes, there's something more, comforting, about it. Something maybe a bit more familiar, that unlocks a memory you'd left behind back when you were much smaller. 

"When did you find the time for all of this?" You ask quietly. You'd been in here just yesterday and it looked nothing like this. 

Sun comes up behind you, hand on your shoulder. "Just now. We just thought that maybe something a bit more relaxed, but still festive, could be fun for you? We can decorate the tree, or, or watch movies, or dance. Whatever you would like, honestly. Whatever you want." 

"Whatever I want?" You look up to him, almost unable to speak.

He looks down to you and after a pause, wraps his arms around you with a nod. "No one should be sad during the holidays, Star. And it's, it's not our business why but, well, we just want to try and change that for a little bit. To try and make you a little happier."

The tears well up before you can stop them. 

Sun starts panicking. "Oh! Don't cry. It's okay, we can just go back to the Daycare—"

"No, no it's okay, really." You sniff. Your reaches up to his faceplate, halting his fretting. "They're happy tears. I'm very grateful. And emotional."

He relaxes into your touch, but his tone is still concerned. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah I,"—you shake your head—"You know what? Let me just show you."

Without thinking further, you raise your other hand and pull his faceplate down to your lips. You release him again after a moment, giggling. 

Sun's rays click, then—"Just to be sure, Moon would also like you to show him."

This causes you to laugh outright, and soon enough you're in the naptime attendant's arms instead. 

You spend the rest of your day in higher spirits than you would have otherwise expected for the holiday. The attendant takes turns doing the various activities they planned with you. And maybe it's only because it's with them, or because of the new relationship you've found yourself in, but you find it all to be so much more bearable than before. More than bearable really, enjoyable. Truly and completely, enjoyable. For the first time in a long time. 

"What are you thinking of, Star?" Moon asks as the two of you dance across the room. 

You shake your head, smiling. "Just about how much I appreciate the two of you, is all."

"Just appreciate?"

You scoff. "I think you know by now it's more than that. Don't even think of trying to scam me out of more kisses."

He snickers in response. 

Just the music for a moment. 

"Thank you, guys. It means a lot."

Moon bends you for a dip, leaning in. "Merry Christmas, Starlight."

"Merry Christmas, Moon."

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Thank you for the request @pip-plz!! Was fun to take this and make something wholesome, esp as someone who hasn't always had a fun holiday experience myself, hope I did it some justice!

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[v1rtualsalvat10n]

there is no market for this. this is purely self indulgent guys please don't hunt me down for this.

you're a chemistry student and you steal a bottle of chloroform from your lab. we all know what comes next. obvious tw for (consensual) drugging.

disclaimer that solvents are bad they can kill easily and there is no safe way to use them don't try this at home guys

Luigi sets the brown, glass bottle in front of you, staring you down while he does.

"Was looking for my charger in your room after I left it in there and found this stashed behind your dresser."

You freeze, face flushing red as you look down at it's label. Trichloromethane. God dammit, you knew you should have hid that somewhere better. Absolutely anywhere better.

"You stole this, right? I mean, it makes sense, you're around chemicals all day and you decided to at least make the most of your arsenal, huh?" He raises an eyebrow.

"It's chloroform," you mumble out. He chuckles softly, taking the bottle and running his eyes along the words printed on the label. "I know it is. I looked it up because honestly, I didn't expect you to tell me that's what it was." He glanced up at you as he said the next sentence.

"You gonna tell me why you stole it, or do you want me to wager a guess?"

You fiddled with your hands for a moment, staring down at the table beneath you, before speaking.

"Can I just show you?"

—

You sat on your bed, Lu behind you, on his knees. The sound of him twisting off the bottle's cap made you tense up in anticipation, as he dabbed the liquid onto a pure white hand towel.

"I'm sure you're already aware of how dangerous this is."

"You're the one who agreed to it," you mumble, and he tilts his head in understanding. He brings his arms around you, one hand clutching the soaked rag, the other resting on your thigh.

"If you want me to stop, tap my arm twice and I'll let you breathe." He nuzzled into your neck, looking at you as he slowly pressed the fabric to your mouth and nose. We're really doing this, you think to yourself.

You take a deep inhale of the fumes, being met with a sickly sweet scent that surprised you. It encouraged you to press your hand against his, forcing the rag closer, as you took another breath, reveling in the pleasant scent of it.

"Careful," he coos, and fuck his voice sounds so good. "Don't take too much at once, amore."

You don't listen, chasing the high as you take another huff, feeling it fill your lungs. The tension in your body starts to melt as you lean back against him, maybe a little harder than intended because he holds your waist to stabilize you.

Now the intoxication is clear. Your vision turns hazy and the corners of it darken as the world swirls around you. It looked grainy yet clear, like a sharpness filter, and your overhead light was suddenly blinding, so you shut your eyes softly.

Your breathing turns more shallow as you pant softly, moaning into his hand, feeling his bulge press against your back. What could he say? You were helpless under him, and that turned him on more than he cared to admit.

"You know," he whispers, the sound of his voice making you dizzy. "In movies and TV shows, it takes only a minute or two for someone to black out from chloroform. But in real life it takes quite a bit longer, isn't that interesting?" He pressed the rag harder to your nose, prompting you to take another deep inhale.

A strange, siren-ish whirring makes itself clear, and every time he spoke that sound would ease up, so you pushed your hips back against his to draw a moan out of him. "Fuck," he whined. "I might not be able to wait that few minutes for you to pass out."

The cool vapor against your nostrils felt so good, you couldn't stop yourself from desperately huffing it, one of your hands reaching down to rub yourself through your shorts. He notices, and swats your hand away, replacing it with his own.

"You're soaked," he observes. "The idea of me using you while you're unconscious gets you off, huh?"

You let out a muffled confession into the rag, your body beginning to feel heavy and numb. It was originally used as anesthetic, after all, so that made enough sense - and he had to hold you closer to keep you from toppling.

"What's wrong? Feeling sleepy?" You nodded softly, eyes still shut as you tried to open them, the brightness of your room almost nauseating to look at. You whined in discomfort, and he covered your eyes with his hand, leaning you back onto him.

"Shh, don't fight it. Just let yourself go, amore. I'll take care of you." When you'd closed your eyes, you felt his hand slip back down between your legs, still rubbing his two fingers on your clit, his cock throbbing under his jeans.

Fuck. His voice was so soothing, and your body just felt so heavy that you wanted to give up. You stayed there, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, mind spinning as he rubbed the last of your logical thinking away.

He slipped your panties aside and pushed his two fingers inside, and that was enough for you. You took another deep inhale, the deepest yet, your head throbbing pleasantly again as you felt yourself slip.

What he did after that? Well... you woke up with tons of hickeys, half your clothes off, and a hangover, so it didn't leave much to the imagination.

But he was there, with a glass of cold water and lots of kisses for you.

"Have you learned not to steal, darling?"

[roonotrue]

Twisted Wonderland - He Hears You Singing (About Him)

Twisted Wonderland Writings Masterpost

Heartslabyul Edition, Savanaclaw Edition

Prompt: While relaxing, and doing chores around the Ramshackle dorm for your weekend restoration of the barely standing building, your thoughts drift to love songs from your old world. You think of songs that remind you of your closest fellow NRC student and significant other, and end up singing one while you work.

Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and they are referred to as 'MC/Prefect' in this one. And let's all just agree that MC is a great singer- cuz some of these songs have mad vocals that I would never dream of trying to sing myself with my incredibly average voice, and I imagine a lot of you are the same.

Included Characters: Octavinelle Edition!

Warnings: None.

Request Rules & Information Here

~~~

Azul Ashengrotto - "Adore You" by Harry Styles

- Why did he stop by Ramshackle? He can't remember. It was something about taste testing the new spring menu, maybe? He's not sure it matters anymore, given how enamored he is with the sound of your voice right now.

- Is frozen in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights, he hadn't even realized it was you singing (he thought it was from your phone or something on a radio) until he turned the corner and saw you.

- When you see him, he turns all kind of shades of scarlet, embarrassed at being caught staring, but he quickly composes himself.

- Immediate compliments followed quickly by an offer to sing at the Mostro Lounge sometime- you'd be paid generously of course-

- On the outside he's acting cool, but the song in question really did fluster him quite a bit, and thoughts of you singing it again just for him keep intruding in his mind, and if you look closely you can see his ears remain a pretty shade of pink the whole conversation after.

- Does truly think you would look stunning dressed up in lavish clothes, preforming on the stage of the Mostro Lounge, are you sure you don't want to? He'll throw in a free meal plus pay!

"My, my, MC, that was a lovely performance. You should put those wonderful vocals to use, I'm sure everyone would be in awe of you at the Lounge. Some may even show up just to see you- I certainly would."

~~~

Jade Leech - "Dive" by Olivia Dean

- He's honestly quiet pleasantly surprised when he enters Ramshackle (without knocking of course) and hears your wonderful singing voice.

- A soft (dare I say genuine?) smile makes it's way to his face as he approaches the living area where you're cleaning, and stands patiently in the doorway for you to finish the song- one he's never heard before but it flows rather smoothly, much like the jazz played at the lounge.

- He finds the lyrics rather intriguing too, now what would inspire you to sing such a romantic song? A crush perhaps? The idea of you having enough of a crush on someone to sing such a song about them makes him... Well, he'll just focus on what he has right in front of him for now, and save those pesky feelings for later self-analysis.

- When you catch him he is completely shameless in his staring, as a matter of fact, his smile grows, before he gives a curious tilt of his head and motions with his hand for you to continue.

- What? Your voice was beautiful, of course he wants to hear it more. What's he doing here? Oh, well, he's come to ask if you'd like to be the first to taste test the Mostro Lounges new spring menu.

- Sure he didn't knock, but it's honestly your fault for not locking the front door- oh, the locks are broken? That can't possibly be safe. Perhaps you should stay at Octavinelle until they are fixed, that way he can hear your voice much more often.

- As a matter of fact, instead of 100 thaumarks a night for a room, he's sure he can arrange for you to sing at the Lounge every night for payment instead.

"Oh, please don't mind me, continue. Your voice is quite delightful, you should consider singing at the Lounge- though, I'm not sure I want anyone else to hear you but me..."

~~~

Floyd Leech - "Risk" by Gracie Abrams

- oHohOHo, you're never gonna live this down PT. 3

- The moment he barges into Ramshackle in a poor mood, looking for his favorite Shrimpy to cheer him up, he freezes at the sound of you're voice.

- But not for long.

- One second, you're alone, singing as you do some chores, and the next second you're being spun around in Floyd Leech's arms as he laughs cheerfully.

- He loves your voice. Keep singing! He wants to dance with you while you do! Forget those boring chores! He's here now, so you can both have fun! You're so adorable he could squeeze you till you pop!

- You should come by the lounge sometimes and sing to him to make his shifts less boring. He's sure Azul wouldn't mind- and if he does, then you two can just leave and have your own party elsewhere!

- He will, without a doubt, demand that you sing to and for him at the most random of times, hell, he might even barge into the middle of your class in a foul mood and demand a serenade from his Shrimpy.

- If you truly won't sing to him, his mood may worsen and you won't see him for awhile while he sorts himself out, whereas if you do sing for him, he will immediately start to feel better.

- The best moment he could ask for to fix his mood, is laying beside you his head in your lap, while you sing. It helps him decompress, and feel so much better from whatever was overwhelming him or souring his mood.

"Shrimpy~! Nice set of pipes! Well, don't stop singing, let's dance together! I knew you'd be doin' something fun, you always cheer me right up!"

~~~

Can you guys tell that Octavinelle is one of my favorite dorms? Particularly the twins? Especially Floyd, his unpredictability with his mood swings are very relatable as someone with severe untreated ADHD and bipolar tendencies. I just think he's neat guys. And fun to write. Anyway! Merry Christmas everyone, and I'll see you next post! ~ Roo

[jolapeno]

DEAR-UARY

a new epistolary writing challenge from jolapeno

what is epistolary? epistolary refers to works of fiction that are written in the form of letters or other documents. this includes:

texting

letters

podcast / radio transcripts

tv show / film scrips

diary / journal

emails

social media posts

postcards

receipts / invoices / lists

**for this you don't HAVE to write the entire thing in this form if you don't want to, but it must include one of the epistolary written styles within the piece.

to enter:

for this prompt challenge, we have three options so its accessible to all writers, no matter where you are in your journey and there's an example at the bottom of this list:

hard: inbox me what epistolary you'd like from the list above and three characters you don't mind writing. I'll respond with a randomised prompt from the list and one of your selected characters from your list via spin the wheel.

medium: inbox me three characters you don't mind writing for me to spin the wheel and a letter from A to Z be given a "trope", you can then choose to match to an epistolary type above.

low: inbox me that you're joining so I can send love, and happily choose your own character, and epistolary type from the list and have fun!

here's an example of what it could look like: your prompt could be, the letter that wasn't meant to be found + joel. you could write the fic in normal prose, but include the letter mid-way through when joel discovers it. this would be epistolary. OR, two characters conversing through text message would also count. OR social media IG photos with the captions hinting at a relationship.

I am on hand for ANY questions on this, if you need to check if something counts or you want to bounce ideas. for all options, please follow the rules under the cut.

RULES

writing must be more than 500 words, but there's no max

pieces need to include at least ONE pedro pascal character - not RPF pls

must consist of a form of epistolary

add proper warnings

tag me and use the hashtag #jolapenosdearuary so I can track and add to the masterlist (if tumblr glitches and I don't add, pls message sometimes things slip)

have your piece ready for posting on 1st February (it can be sooner, but I'll begin reblogging from then) there's no end date - so no pressure okay?

tagging some moots who may be down (reblog to spread):

@goodwithcheese @secretelephanttattoo @pedgito @whocaresstillthelouvre @almostfoxglove

@kedsandtubesocks @ozarkthedog @polaroidpascal @thundermartini @sawymredfox

@mothandpidgeon @moonlitbirdie @gothcsz @thelightsandtheroses @hellishjoel

@saradika @luxurychristmaspudding @javierpena-inatacvest @javierpenaispunk @iknowisoundcrazy

@iamasaddie @isengards @missredherring @evolnoomym @agentmarcuspike

@milla-frenchy @covetyou @hauntedhowlett @quinnnfabrgay-writes @yxtkiwiyxt

[the-kr8tor]

i saw your requests were open for the holidays and i’ve got one for you! hobie and r making homemade ornaments for their first christmas together?-@thesevenofstaves

Bestie!!! Thank you for the lovely request! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw slight injury, cw food mentions, one suggestive joke, fluff!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The air runs warm with the scented candles lit, cinnamon and peppermint scents wafting from the lit candle wicks. It's better for the whole houseboat to smell like a bakery rather than it smelling like hot glue and metal wires that Hobie's busy with connecting. He's trying to make a homemade mini ice rink to work. With a bunch of magnets, glass and a dream, it's almost done. The ice rink that's as big as a book shines under the lit candles, looking as if the so-called ice on it is about to melt under all the soldering he's doing.

The floors of the houseboat looks like a crafts store barfed on it. On your left is a Christmas tree you've made out of green pipe cleaners, decorated with tiny wreaths, and candy canes made from the same material. Near your socked foot are the figurines you and Hobie hand sculpted. You've hand painted it in excruciating detail so that it goes perfectly well with the ice rink where the figurines are supposed to glide around in a figure eight until they meet in the middle for a kiss. It's the sweetest thing he has suggested for decoration, you've smooched him to hell and back for the brilliant idea.

He decided to go all out this year since it's the first time you're celebrating with him now that you're officially together after what must've been years of pining for each other.

But now he’s starting to regret ever suggesting it for he has been wiring and programming the darn thing for hours now. His eyes are narrowed, glued to the rainbow of wires in front of him as he squints at it. His tongue pokes out slightly in between his lips, concentration clear on his face as he dodges a stray spark.

“Careful, Hobie, your face might get stuck like that.” You hum above the soft piano music playing on the record player, you've chosen it to add to the cozy atmosphere. Hands occupied with doing the finishing touches on the pipe cleaner tree, the hot glue gun is warm against your palm.

The strings of popcorn for the actual tree in the living room lays right next to you, it has gotten so long that it runs up towards the bedroom. You're surprised at how long you managed to make it when you've been sneaking bites of the popcorn you haven't stringed just yet.

He tilts his head towards you, eyes remaining in the same narrowed gaze. “What do you mean?”

You giggle, grabbing a couple of popcorn for him because you know he has been sneaking glances at you whenever you pop one in your mouth. “We don't have to finish this today, you know.”

He opens his mouth, prompting you to toss the popcorn in as he catches it effortlessly. You clap in return, beaming at him. “I know, love.” He says in between chewing. “Once I start I can't leave it.”

“Just say that you're excited to see it all finished.” You tease, blindly squeezing the glue gun.

“Careful with the glue.” He warns, concerned for how close the hot material is from your finger.

“I'm an expert by now, don't worry—! Fuck!” Yelping, Hobie's immediately by your side and off his seat the second the searing glue touches your middle finger.

His hands hold yours, “let me see, love.” Carefully twisting your wrist around to look at it, he sucks in his teeth at the searing glue clinging to your angry skin from the side of your middle finger and slowly dripping down to your palm.

“Is it bad?” You look away, hissing in pain as you place your chin atop his shoulder.

“No.” He tries to hide his own worry, “‘m goin’ to get somethin' to help, stay put, yeah?” With peck on your temple, he's speed walking towards the kitchen. “Don't peel the glue!”

“I won't!” You occupy yourself by staring at the ceiling, band posters and stickers dotted along it. The sound of the faucet opening and the gurgle of water has you squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the molten glue sticking to your hand, tightening up the skin. “This kind of feels like one of those facemasks we tried, but hot and not refreshing at all.”

He crosses the small distance towards you, water sloshing as he walks. “The mud one?”

“Yeah,” you sigh when you feel him sit next to you, taking your hand in his and gently submerging your hand in cool water. “Can I look now?” He places a towel over your hand and on the bowl, shielding you from the sight of the molten glue.

“Yeah,” he sighs, relief flooding his veins. Taking your chin, he slowly moves your head down to meet with your eyes. “There you are.”

“Here I am.” You smile, hand cooling down and feeling the ache slowly fade.

Hobie's eyes shine, “you alright?”

“Mm-hmm, thanks to you. Sorry to bother you.” With your apology, he holds your waist, pulling and sliding you towards him.

“None of that, you're not a bother.” His free hand grasps at the back of your neck, placing your head on his shoulder for you to rest on. You nudge your nose against his jumper, lips grazing along the side of his neck. “I remember tellin' you to be careful though.” He jokes, already smirking at you the second you lift your head up with a feigned gasp.

“You know what?” He raises a brow, “I'll let you have this one because you administered first aid.”

He chuckles, lifting the towel up slightly to check your hand. “Part of the job, lovie.”

“Is my hand okay?”

“Third degree burns, love, I have to graft some skin from your thighs to fix it.” He teases, poking you right on your thigh.

You laugh loudly, thumping your head against his shoulder. “Just say that you like my fucking thighs, Hobie.”

“I do.” He cranes his neck down to look at you, palm cupping your cheek. “That and more, especially when it's wrapped around my—”

“Okay!” You cover his mouth, feeling the rumble of his laughter through it. “How's the skating rink, genius?” Knowing Hobie, he's about to chomp down at your hand. Sure enough, you feel his teeth about to bite down on you so you lift your hand away in the nick of time. “Too slow.”

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he stands up to get the mini skating rink. “See for yourself.” Placing it in front of you and away from the bowl of water lest he electrocutes you, he turns it on with a simple click of the button. The lights under the ‘ice’ lights up, its iridescent shine taking your breath away. There's even a music box rendition of Frosty the snowman playing from its speakers.

“Holy shit, Hobie!” You stare at him, bewildered and giddy. Shaking him, he chuckles at your reaction, eyes lovingly staring at you as you mirror his expression. “This is amazing, even better than the ones we've seen around in the shops.”

He hides his grin as he places white garlands around the rink to decorate it. “Told you I could do it better.”

“Hmm, makes me think I should start listening to you more.” Teasing, you half embrace him, happily squeezing him once for a job well done. “Oh! Can we put us on it?”

“Yeah, we can.” he acts nonchalant, but inside he's all warm and fuzzy from your reaction. Happy that he has made you happy. Taking the figurines, he gives you the mini Hobie whilst he holds onto mini you.

“On three?” He nods, smiling through your countdown. “One, two, three!”

You simultaneously place the figures on the rink, watching them take its place while the magic of the magnets does its thing. The machine whirrs, clicking for a second. Hobie suddenly worries that it won't work, but once the figurines move by themselves on the ice, dancing along to the music, he smiles, watching your face bloom into pure joy.

Your eyes shine, tears of happiness clinging to your lashes. The mini you and Hobie complete its route, meeting in the center for a kiss before returning back to skate around again. Turning to face him, you find that he's already looking at you with fondness.

“I love it,” you hold his cheek, pecking the tip of his nose. “I love you,” you kiss his forehead. “You did so well.” Before you could kiss his lips properly, he beats you to it, leaning to kiss you instead.

Hobie kisses you warmly whilst music plays in the background, and the whirr of the machine he painstakingly made sure that it will last for a hundred holidays with you hums in the background.

[gingerly-writing]

Secret Santa

this is a secret santa post for @creweemmaeec11!! your prompt was:

Villain is usually very flirty and confident, and then during a mission where hero goes undercover at some fancy event with Villain as their fake date, all of the sudden Villain starts acting really scared and nervous because of something at the event then has to help reassure/calm them down, and its cute. Bonus points if you can somehow work in a hidden power reveal.

I'm pretty proud of how I tackled this one, so without further ado, let's go for it!

-----

The Guild's winter gala sparkled.

Superhero moved through the frosted festivities like they were born to be there, like the whole event has been crafted just to make them look good. They floated majestically half a centimetre above the fake snow, crystal heels glittering as they strode. Their long dress swirled about their ankles, fading from white at the neckline to an icy pale blue at the hem, shimmering all the way down. Cold lights reflected angelically across their cheekbones and the diamond tiara balanced in their perfect hair.

They looked like the monarch of winter, the belle of the ice ball. Even the sharpness of their face fit.

They didn't even have cryo powers, for pete's sake.

Villain trudged along next to them, fighting the urge to wrap her arms around herself. Her suit was wet around the ankles, and a chill crept up her spine. Did they have to be so enthusiastic with the fake snow and dry ice? At least her tie went with the theme, ice blue to match Superhero's dress. That hadn't even been her idea, of course. Superhero had insisted, and now Villain found herself grudgingly glad of it. She didn't need to look any more out of place than she already did.

"Unhunch," Superhero demanded. Not forcefully. It was just they didn't make requests—they asked, but already expected their desired answer.

Villain straightened automatically, then scowled about it. "That's not a word."

"That's not an excuse. Stop skulking about." Superhero's gaze roved across the ballroom, picking out heroes new and old. Allies, petty rivals, good friends, threats. Assessing and scouting. Hunting. "It makes you look like you don't belong."

"I'm good at skulking. Probably because I don't belong."

Superhero turned on her, skirts whirling. "You do." Not an argument, just a statement of fact. "How long have you been my ally? My friend?"

Villain shifted uncomfortably. "The government classes me as-"

"This isn't the government, it's the Guild. And we don't give a festive fig what they say." They bent down to eye level, forcing eye contact. "You belong here. Just like I do. Just like everyone does."

"Alright, alright, I'll unhunch!" Villain looked away, faking nonchalance, but she couldn't quite hide her smile in her collar. Superhero's reassurances—hell, any scrap of their attention—always felt so good.

The touch of Superhero's hand on their forearm radiated through them like an electric shock. Villain startled.

Superhero smiled at them. Their smiles were always tiny, secretive little things, teasing at the corners of their mouth. "Come. I want to show you off on the floor."

"...the dance floor?!”

“How many times have you offered to take me dancing?”

Villain chatted a lot of nonsense while she was flirting. Like, a lot a lot. “Yeah, on a rooftop or an anonymous nightclub. Not here, in front of everyone we work with and half the people we fight!”

“You’ll be fine,” Superhero decided, and tugged her out onto the floor. 

Other couples were already swirling. Scientist stumbled past with her favourite henchman, and both of them were laughing. Thief and Detective were handcuffed together and glaring as they swayed side to side—it was always something with those two. Hero twirled by with his daughter balanced on his shoes, the little girl grinning ear to ear, blue flames engulfing the pair of them. 

Villain found herself in traditional hold with Superhero, her frenemesis taking control. She stepped after her automatically, swayed when directed, and dipped when pushed. She came up blushing and desperate to hide it. How was Superhero so damn good at this? They weren't even trying to flirt, and yet Villain was on the verge of swooning. So completely unfair.

That was partly why the onslaught of sheer terror caught her so off guard. One moment her body was flowing between Superhero's hands like water, and the next she was ramrod straight with all the hair on her nape standing on end.

Superhero frowned. "No, don't seize up like that! You were doing so well."

"I didn't...mean to?" Villain's mind spun faster than her body ever could. The suddenness of the new emotion, as if artificially imposed...could it be? Her gaze shot around the dance floor, through Hero and Scientist and- there. Twirling through the chaos, seemingly without a care in the world: Antihero.

Now the ice shooting through her veins felt real.

Superhero watched her with those cold-winter-sky eyes. "It's not the dancing," they ascertained. "What's wrong?"

"It's fine," Villain gritted out, forcing her feet to keep moving in time with the music. "Really, it is. We should just-"

Superhero held up one of Villain's hands in both of theirs. She was trembling. "You aren't scared of anything," Superhero told her. "Not even me, which I admit is quite aggravating at times. So forgive my worry, but you're not dancing your way out of this one. What. Is. Wrong?"

"Antihero." It came out like a church confession.

"The empath?" Superhero's brow wrinkled, then smoothed as they realised. "Oh, of course. She's feeding you undiluted fear."

"She's such an asshole," Villain said by way of agreement. "She's decided that I encroach on her territory when I team up with you. Apparently the Guild is only big enough to house one quasi-villain." And Villain had said no when Antihero had requested a teamup, but that seemed like too much to confess. Almost like admitting there was no one else Villain wanted to work with except Superhero.

"So she's just making you afraid-"

Oh how Villain wanted that to be the case but- "No. I'm actually- her powers give me the freaks. She can make you hate someone you love, fall in love with your enemy. Fear your best friend and idolise your rival." She shuddered. "And there's literally nothing you can do to stop her. Distance helps, but three foot thick steel walls or going underground or even knowing it’s not real don't make it go away. Trust me, I've tried."

Superhero span them so they could stare at Antihero. Villain forced them to keep spinning.

"Don't glare at her! Don't draw her attention. You don't want-"

"Better me than you-"

"Don't say that. Don't say that before you've felt it."

"I've dealt with telepaths before."

Well that was faintly horrifying. "She's just as bad, if not worse. Insidious powers with a vindictive personality to boot. Don't antagonise her. I don't want- both of us can't be messed up at the same time." Villain squeezed Superhero's hand tight. "Just don't. Please."

Superhero's full attention turned back to her with all the force of an ice storm. "Alright. For you."

The fear didn't ease, but Villain knew she was relieved somewhere under there. "Thank you."

"But I'm not going to let her torment you either."

"What do you..." The fear abated. All at once, like a theatre curtain falling between her and the rest of the room. No. Like a cocoon around her and Superhero. Villain stared up at her frenemesis with huge eyes. "What...how...?"

“You know what my powers are.”

She did…sort of. She had watched fire wash over them without burning, ice cover them without freezing. Punches bounce off them and bullets rebound. Villain had always assumed it was pure invincibility dialled up to 11, just like everyone else. That’s what it said in Superhero’s Guild and government files too. And yet… “I’m thinking maybe I didn’t grasp the full extent of what you can do.”

Superhero smiled wide enough to show teeth, their eyes glittering. “Good. I like to retain the ability to surprise.”

Villain let Superhero guide them through a spin and into a dip. Her body flowed, the tension dropping away. She felt…protected. Safe. “Antihero won’t like this,” she warned. “You’re making yourself a target.”

“Let her come. It’s been a long time since someone gave me the opportunity to remind everyone why I was designated ‘super’.”

Wow. Well, that was terrifying and hot. 

Fake snow drifted down all around them, catching in Superhero’s hair like tiny diamonds. Villain stuck her tongue out to catch some and grimaced at the taste, and Superhero chuckled at her. With the shield of their powers, the dancefloor felt like their own personal snowglobe, the two of them perfect dancers twirling forever hand in hand.

[wisteriasymphony]

In La Terreur, why did you and Silu make a bunch of other kids sentimonsters that were never implied to be that way in canon?

I think the entire rich people senticult is an interesting idea that canon could be doing more with, and it expands the issue of the sentihuman kids being "used" by their parents from the failing of a few bad people to a much more systemic one.

At its core, the sentichild issue stems from the desire in some parents to not see their child as a growing human being, but as a little pet and extension of themselves that obeys them unconditionally. In La Terreur, the fact that sentimonsters have to develop sentience/sapience means that their masters can stunt their growth at whatever level they like.

Do you just want a tool that carries out a functions and doesn't think? Or do you want your little magic pet to tell you it loves you without having to prompt it first? etc etc etc

Also, sentimonsters are a really interesting part of the magic system in miraculous ladybug, and the more sentimonsters we have (each at different points in their development and in their own situations), the more we can explore them as a concept!

As I've said before, I personally don't think sentimonsters are needed to explore the themes Miraculous was trying to get at through them. Themes such as child abuse and lack of personhood could've been gotten at through existing elements without the need for such a large and frankly messy allegory. However, this is not to say I don't think people should use the plotline at all, and I think by tackling it earlier and using it more often, La Terreur is doing it correctly.

[jintaka-hane]

Oh hello 😊😊

Sooo your “Kiss your blorbo” event… it’a great idea 😍😍

Can I ask a kiss from my beloved doctor Hongo, with “Are you gonna be my girl” from Jet as background music?

Send you lot of love 💖💖😘😘

[Kiss your blorbo at the New Year’s Eve event]

HONGO

Summary: Hongo is far too discreet, and it’s starting to annoy you. At the New Year’s Eve party in the port, you decide to test him by making him jealous. Word count: 1100 Warning: xf!reader; fluff; kissing, some jealousy; sort of pre-established relationship All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

You giggle as you let him play with your hair. You’ve let him buy you another beer, and now he’s shamelessly flirting with you, throwing out compliments as he leans slightly closer. Midnight is approaching, and amidst the singing, dancing, and the strong smell of alcohol and food from the nearby stalls, you bat your lashes at the man you’re seemingly having fun with tonight.

But he’s not the one holding your full attention.

Out of the corner of your eye, you’re keeping constant track of the doctor on your crew, cursing every time you realize he’s not looking your way, completely engrossed in chatting and drinking with Shanks and the others.

Hongo seems like the reserved type. Or at least, discreet when others are around. But behind closed doors when you’re in his bed, he’s anything but restrained with you.

What began between the two of you a few months ago as innocent, casual flirting gradually evolved into bold teasing and constant banter. The tension grew with each playful joke and every provocative, defiant look until one day, you grabbed him by his shirt and gave him what would be your first kiss, heated and hungry. But spending long periods confined together in the middle of the sea quickly made clandestine kisses no longer enough. Now, more nights than not, you find yourself tangled in his sheets, breathless, sweaty, and utterly spent.

By daylight, however, things change. The embraces of the night turn into brief exchanges of words. Your once-thirsty mouths become sidelong glances.

You were never looking for a relationship. You remember the moment you froze the first time his fingers brushed your shoulders while you were talking to Yassop, prompting him to pull back and avoid touching you again in front of others. Getting romantically involved with a crewmate would only cause problems, and the way you both keep your distance in public has conveniently helped you control your own feelings. Until now.

Tonight, you can’t stand how far away he is. You can’t stand how little he looks at you. You can’t stand those hands, shoved into his pockets, not resting on your waist. So, at the lively party the locals are throwing at the port to celebrate the new year, you do everything you can to make him jealous.

But it doesn’t seem to be working. Despite the man you’re humoring leaning closer and closer to you, your doctor stays wrapped up in laughter and conversations with the others.

Frustrated, you huff and take a sip of your drink as your admirer move his hand in an alarmingly intimate gesture to your chin and stroke it. You frown, smelling the alcohol on his breath, and before his lips can graze yours, you excuse yourself.

“I... uh... I need to go to the bathroom.”

Awkwardly and muttering curses under your breath, you stride away from the party, weaving through dancing couples and dodging people offering skewers of meat and beer. The music pounds in your ears, and all you can think about is getting away as fast as possible. But just as you’re about to escape the crowd, a strong hand catches your wrist, stopping you in your tracks and pulling you back to face him.

"I know what you're doing, and I don't like it," Hongo says harshly, looking at you with the same expression he would give to a nasty wound.

“Oh?” you say, surprised to see him but unable to contain your indignation. “Excuse me, sir, you’ve been watching me?” you ask, placing a hand on your chest.

“Doll, I’m always keeping an eye on you. I’d know if you had a headache even if you were on another ship.”

“Oh, yeah?” You yank your hand, but his grip on your wrist doesn’t loosen.

“Yeah.” He mimics you, giving your wrist a small tug, causing your chests to brush against each other. “I’d know if you caught a cold even from a thousand miles away.”

You look up at him, and your lips tremble for a moment. You part them to say something sharp, but before the words can leave your mouth, the crowd starts counting down to the new year.

“Ten, Nine, Eight!”

Taking a deep breath, you swallow hard and muster the courage to keep speaking.

“And my heart?" you ask, raising your voice so he can hear you over the cheers. "Would you know if it hurts right now?” You lock eyes with him.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

The way your pupils gleam in the colorful glow of the party lights makes him sigh and lean in a little closer to you.

“I know it does…” he whispers. “Just like mine.”

“Four! Three!”

Your heart drums in your chest, and your eyes close at the feeling of Hongo’s hand now tracing the line of your jaw.

“Two! One!”

You feel his nose brush against yours, and you when you tilt your head, his mouth claims yours in a heated and senseless kiss. Right there, in public, in front of everyone. He presses his lips firmly against yours, making your knees weak like only he knows how.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The crowd roars and cheers around you, throwing streamers and colorful confetti as fireworks explode in the sky. His fingers lace with yours as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your body closer to his. You smile into his kiss and bring both hands to his cheeks, refusing to let him go. His laugh is muffled against your lips, but he doesn’t release you, leaning in even more to deepen the kiss. Then, in one final teasing move, you pull away, leaving him breathless and wanting more.

It takes him a couple of seconds to collect himself before he asks you the question he's been holding in.

“So… are you gonna be my girl?” he says, leaning in toward you again.

“Your girl?” you giggle, tilting your head and stopping him by placing a hand on his chest. “Like… officially and out in the open?”

He nods, toying with your fingers intertwined with his. “Yes, officially and out in the op—”

His words are cut off by your lips, capturing his in a long, deep kiss. Your hands trail up to the back of his shaved neck, and he hums in approval before you both pull back.

“Are we heading to your cabin?” you ask him, your cheeks warm and flushed.

“My cabin…” For a moment, you’ve disoriented him with your kiss, but he quickly recovers. “Oh, yes, absolutely, later… but for now,” he flashes that smile that always makes your heart melt, then grabs your hips and lifts you into the air, “let me show off my girlfriend!"

Merry Christmas, Laney <3

.............................................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[misc-obeyme]

prompt: Simeon & Michael

a/n: I'm back! Did you miss me?? I still have a bandage that makes typing annoying, but I'm pushing through it because I can't go this long without writing and the ideas plague me so. Anyway, here's what the wheel gave me today! Michael is only mentioned. I'm also not caught up on the latest lessons, so I consider this to be taking place somewhere in seasons one or two of OG. @om-adventcalendar

Simeon x GN!MC

Warnings: none!

You made your way through the Christmas market, a thing that had popped up unexpectedly when the denizens of the Devildom had gotten into the swing of celebrating. It was set up with booths and stalls in the street, some food vendors and others selling trinkets for last minute gift giving. It was cold, with a light snow just beginning to fall through the darkness.

The lights and sounds of the market were all around you, festive colors and cheerful music creating a joyful atmosphere. You would never really get used to the idea of demons celebrating Christmas like this, but you appreciated that they were getting into the spirit of it.

And then you spotted him. He was always impossible to miss with that soft brown hair, the white of his outfit, and the unmistakable glow that seemed to surround him. He stood in the snow, the flakes melting as soon as they touched him, his eyes focused on a stall nearby.

You hastened to his side. "Simeon?"

Simeon turned to you and smiled. It was like a beam of warmth penetrating your soul. "There you are, MC," he said.

"Sorry," you said. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Not at all," Simeon said.

He offered you his arm and you immediately linked yours with his.

"Were you looking for something specific?" you asked, eyeing the booth that Simeon had been staring at.

Simeon guided you down the street. "I was thinking about buying some Devildom sweets to send back to Michael."

You were used to hearing this. It was something that Luke was often concerned with too. "What did you have in mind?"

Simeon paused at a booth. "I don't know," he admitted. "A lot of this appears to be the Devildom's attempt at creating human world holiday treats. Do you have any suggestions for something traditional?"

You considered the question, your eyes roaming over the display cases in front of you. It was a bakery booth, full of various pastries that were likely stuffed to the brim with weird Devildom ingredients.

Then your eyes fell upon what looked suspiciously like a fruit cake. That could certainly be considered a classic dessert. Everyone you knew either loved it or hated it.

You pointed it out to Simeon. "That looks like a fruit cake," you said. "It's pretty traditional."

When you stepped up to the counter, the demon behind it asked if they could help you.

"What kind of fruit is in this?" Simeon asked, gesturing to the fruit cake.

"Oh, only the highest quality bloodberries, devil crush mangoes, shadow oranges, and of course snowman's sigh!" the demon said enthusiastically.

It wasn't exactly the human world medley of fruits, but that was to be expected. You didn't think it sounded terrible.

"You know, I think this might work," Simeon said. "Can I get a box of them, please?"

Simeon carried a bag away from the booth as the two of you went back to wandering the market. It was a pleasant evening. You stopped for hot chocolate, sitting together under an awning and watching the snow fall. You loved the way Simeon's eyes brightened at the first sip of the sweet drink.

"Do you miss the Celestial Realm?" you asked.

Simeon seemed surprised by your question. "A little," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"You're always thinking about things to get for Michael," you said. "I thought maybe it was because you miss him and your home."

Simeon chuckled. "I do miss them," he said. "But not enough to leave you here in the Devildom without me."

You met his gaze at that and noted the playful look in his eyes. You couldn't help smiling, even as you felt the heat in your cheeks. "You wouldn't miss me that much, would you?"

Simeon reached out and brushed his gloved fingers against your temple. "MC, I would miss you like angels miss the stars."

Your heart skipped a beat. You put your hand over his and leaned your face into his warm touch. "Then I suppose you'll just have to stay here, with me."

Simeon kissed your cheek, spreading warmth throughout you. "Happily."

You leaned back, trying to get your pulse to settle a bit. You took a sip of your hot chocolate and changed the subject. "You'll have to let me know how Michael likes that fruit cake," you said.

Simeon smiled. "I'll be sure to report back."

You couldn't help imagining Michael in the Celestial Realm, whatever he even looked like, taking a big bite of a Devildom style fruit cake. For some reason, you found this to be a very entertaining vision.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[possibilistfanfiction]

arcane prompt "hospital"?

[jinx deserves the world, also it's nice to let cait use her girlboss disposition for good sometimes, yknow. ao3 here.]

///

you hand caitlyn a cup of black tea she probably thinks is beyond shitty; it's all they had at the cart in the courtyard, and you still have no idea how to make proper tea anyway. still, she smiles — small, and residually scared, but genuine — in thanks. she's been crying, you can tell: her eyes are red-rimmed and the sweater of vi's she'd thrown on in the middle of the night is rumpled around the sleeves, like she'd used them to wipe her tears.

'she's going to be okay, right?' you look at vi's still, bruised form in the bed. 'they didn't, like, tell you really bad news while i was gone or something.'

caitlyn steadies herself. 'no,' she assures you. 'she's going to be just fine.'

'okay,' you say, and you trust her because she loves vi and because she's a doctor, and mostly because at this point caitlyn wouldn't lie to you. you scoot your chair forward and lace your fingers together with vi's hand, the one without an iv taped into it, and squeeze gently, just a hello. the doctors had explained that she's on a lot of medicine to keep her comfortable, plus the anesthesia from her surgery, so she's not going to wake up until midday at the earliest. but just in case she can feel you, you want her to know that you're there. you remember coming out of the worst sedations, medication that was wrong for you or just way too high a dose, to vi slumped next to your bedside, her big, strong hand steadfast around yours. 'did you see her x-rays or medical history or something?'

'i didn't intend to,' she says in way of an answer.

'ah.' you fiddle with vi's fingers. 'gnarly, huh?'

she puts her tea down on the small table near the bed and runs a hand through her hair before she scrapes it up into a messy ponytail. 'i knew, in theory,' she says. 'we've talked about things, of course. i'm able to help take care of when her chronic back pain flares, and how she really should have a surgical repair on her bad shoulder. but, i just, well. i suppose i comprehend the breadth of it now, more completely at least, the details in a way i can understand.'

you don't know; you don't ever want to know, not like that. vi still has nightmares about prison, still doesn't eat enough sometimes, still refuses heating pads and advil sometimes after a hard shift. 'yeah.'

'and i suppose, too, that it's hard to know how much she's hurt, even if it's so much less bad now.' she shrugs, helpless, and looks at you. 'i just love her.'

it had been terrifying, to get a call in the middle of the night from the fire department: vi had been in a building when it collapsed, and she was hurt and it was, potentially, very bad. you're not sure who they'd called first — you or caitlyn — but she'd texted you a minute after and offered to pick you up so you could both wait at the hospital while vi was in surgery. it had taken two hours before her dad came out and explained that vi had some internal injuries that still needed more fixing in surgery, as well as a few bruises and scrapes, but she would recover fully with time.

'you should move in with each other,' you say.

caitlyn pauses for a few moments, but then she lets out a quiet laugh. 'how long have you been holding that in?'

you shrug. 'you guys have been together for two years. i know vi wants to.' you don't mention that you hack into caitlyn's person email on occasion, just because you like to be nosey; you don't mention that you'd seen her and vi send property listings back and forth the last few months. 'i know she hasn't said anything to me because she doesn't want to upset me, or make me think like she's choosing you over me, or whatever.'

caitlyn considers it calmly. 'she would never do that, you know.'

'yeah.' you do; it's the thing you know most in the world. 'i also know that she's scared that if she doesn't help me at much, i'll have another episode.'

that, caitlyn has no response to.

'i've talked about this a lot in therapy.' you squeeze vi's hand, just in case she's listening too. 'at first i couldn't manage any of it without her, for sure.'

vi had spent her first month out of prison visiting you in your tent in the scariest part of town, not pushing, just bringing you food and warm clothes, comfortable blankets; she'd sit with you for hours if you'd let her, even if most of the time you talked to voices only you could hear and saw things she never would. finally, you agreed to go to the hospital with her, and from there it was more months of getting clean, and trying different medications, and really lame group therapy, and coming to terms with your diagnosis. vi was there as often as she could be, clean-cut for once while she went through the fire academy. you don't remember many details, but when you'd finally gotten released, she'd brought you to this small, rundown one bedroom apartment that she'd made as nice as she could. the first night you were home, she fell asleep in bed next to you in less than a minute, a few tears on her cheeks, seemingly of their own accord. it's always been a measure of love you'll always be a little in awe of.

'but, like, i remember my meds on my own now. i have a system.'

caitlyn's smile is honest-to-god proud. 'that's no small feat.'

you try to act nonchalant, but she's right: most of your medications have side effects that require other medications to off-set, and it's a nightmare if you don't coordinate them properly. 'and, like, my graduate program is going well, and i have friends, and i like climbing. i feel, not good, i guess. maybe i'll never feel good. but i feel real, and most of the time the world feels real too.'

caitlyn lays her hand on top of yours, and vi's.

'anyway,' you say, clearing your throat so you don't cry. you run your free hand through your hair, grown out some now after your "interesting decision," as vi had said, last year during a meltdown. 'vi can move out, and ekko can move in to our apartment. he's —' your boyfriend? your best friend? your favorite person, other than vi?

caitlyn smiles gently. 'he is.'

'he knows what to do, if i need help.'

'and i know you want to live with vi, and i know she wants to live with you.' even though you invade their privacy by checking emails, you'd never spill the beans that they've both individually been looking at rings. 'i can manage, without her there as much. i don't think either of us ever thought that would be our reality, which is why vi hasn't brought it up. i know she's still scared, probably forever. it was scary.' you take a big breath and then let it out; when you'd first gotten your diagnosis, it seemed like you would never get to be a full, independent person, and then it would be a death sentence. 'but i want to try. i can try.'

caitlyn squeezes your hand, and vi's too. 'i believe you will do wonderfully, in both my professional and personal opinion.'

'oh. really?'

she nods. 'you haven't had a full blown episode in over a year. i see you manage your days, and your impulses. clinically, you're actually a great patient. personally, you're a pain in the ass sometimes, but not because you're unwell.'

'just because of my stunning charm and incredible sense of humor? my flair for the dramatic?'

'something like that, sure.'

you laugh. 'thank you, so so much.'

she rolls her eyes but she's still fond of you, especially in the early morning light. vi's eyes are both bruised blue, but caitlyn had told you that surgeons had finally fixed her broken nose after it broke again this time: you're pretty sure vi hasn't been able to breathe properly since she was, like, twelve. at the very least she'll snore less, so a win for all of you. 'we found a house we want to put an offer in on,' she admits.

'yeah?'

she nods. 'it's not too far from your place, and it's right on the park.'

you scoff, just for posterity. 'fancy.'

she's unfazed by this point. 'we — well, vi was going to tell you, but i know it's fine if i do. we know you and ekko want to keep your current place, and i'd actually like to sit down with both of you and see if there's any way i can assist with your rent or other budgetary items.'

you're definitely, 100% about to cry, all of a sudden.

'she is so proud of you, for even being able to consider pursuing increased independence.'

you sniffle.

'but, the brownstone we're looking at also has a fully finished basement, with a bedroom and a small living area, its own bathroom. we've planned for it to be your space, whenever you want it, for any reason, for however long you'd like to stay. a night, a year. you will always have a home with violet, which means you will always have a home with me too.'

you have to do your deep breathing: sometimes kindness, especially given freely, is what makes the world slide most off-kilter. there are always voices telling you that you don't deserve good things, that caitlyn, and vi, and ekko, and vander, and even caitlyn's parents, when you go over to their giant ass mansion for celebratory dinners or parties, are lying to you. but you put your head down against your joined hands and count to ten, whisper it aloud, and then sit back up. caitlyn is waiting patiently.

'how big is the house?'

she laughs, heartily, and pulls out her phone to show you pictures and specifications. it's beautiful — not that you'd ever expect less of caitlyn kirammen — but she also tells you the plans she has to decorate, and your chest aches with a happiness so tinged with grief when she casually explains things vi wants in each room too. it's a life you never dreamed you'd get to have, and you know vi has probably been having total menty-b's about all of this, but she deserves a home more than anyone you've ever met.

'it's fine, i guess,' you say, after caitlyn finishes showing you their plans for the patio and yard.

caitlyn laughs. 'up to your standards?'

'could use more neon.'

'keep it confined to the basement, and you've got a deal.'

'ugh.'

'the only request i have is that you not blow it up.'

you pretend to contemplate. 'that's reasonable, i guess.' you look around at all the monitors proclaiming your big sister's strong heart and lungs and brain, despite it all. 'vi's gonna be so relieved that we don't have to have a heart to heart when she wakes up.'

caitlyn looks at the still planes of vi's face adoringly. disgusting, still. 'she'll be difficult enough as it stands, i'm sure.'

'total pain in the ass.'

////

you spend the first night after vi moves out in your apartment with ekko, and you fall asleep with your head tucked into his chest, safe still, even now. that weekend, you haul a duffle bag of your stuff — clothes, toiletries, a quarter of your lab, a few cans of spray paint — to vi and caitlyn's new house. neither of them are home yet, vi stuck grumpily on desk duty for the evening and caitlyn's meeting running over.

but your key turns in the lock, and your favorite snacks are stocked in the pantry. eventually, they both get home, and they're happy to see you, and caitlyn laughs at the improvements you've already done to the walls of the basement. vi ruffles your hair and you bully both of them into ordering tacos like you want, even though they have plenty of things you could cook at home. caitlyn is polite enough to let you curl up with vi on the couch, just for tonight, and you fall asleep, safe and warm, there too.

[dawnthefox24]

(Merry Christmas/Happy holiday everyone and enjoy this little prompt!)

*Dev is asleep in bed but felt someone shaking him a bit as he steered a bit in his sleep* ???: Kid wake up. Dev:*groans a bit as he cracks one eye open and jumps a bit seeing Irep in his human disguise* Wh-What are you doing Irep!? Where's Peri?! Irep:*rolls his eyes* Merry Christmas, come I have to show you something. Dev:*rubs his eyes a bit*What time is it? Irep: It's 12:09 am. Dev:... Irep:... Dev: I'm going back to bed... Irep: Wait no! Don't Peri and I overheard your conversation with Dale about spending Christmas together, and honestly your father never cease to amaze me with how- Dev: Okay stop where are we going? Irep:*grins a bit and placed his finger over his lips* Dev:*rolls his eyes a bit bit as he got out of bed but noticed that Irep quickly poofed him into his winter clothes* I could have- Irep: Nope, come alone along, were walking Peri insisted we do so. Though he didn't say I could get you there, but we'll walk the rest there. Dev:*sighs *Alright okay lets- *Without warning Irep just took Dev's hand as he used his other hand using his mace/wand teleporting them to a near by park as the streetlights are on and it's snowing* Dev:*is a bit dizzy but glares at him* Warning please... Irep: *chuckles and starts walking* Come along let's get going. *Dev sighs as he follows him for a moment though something came into his head* Dev: Your not going to murder me right? Irep: *rolls his eyes*If I wanted to murder you I've would have done it by now, also no I'm not going to murder what gave you that idea? Dev: *shrugs* Dunno. Irep:*sighs a bit* You know, Peri planned this whole thing out you know. Dev: What? *Irep looked at him before he went off trail as he looked at Dev tilting his head a bit to follow him, in which Dev did though he's never been this way before not till he heard skates* Dev:*soon see's through the clearing as a small lake was frozen over as he spotted Peri just staking a bit on the ice with a few lights shining a bit in the tress*Since when can Peri skate? Irep:*smiles a bit as he watches Peri skate gracefully*Always, though not that much. He isn't going fast because of his knees. Dev: Oh... *Is wasn't long when Peri skated over with a smile on his face* Peri: Dev I'm sorry for interrupting your sleep and- Dev:*wasn't paying any attention when he looked around seeing a small booth with hot chocolate though it seemed to be magical* What is this? Peri & Irep:*both look at each other before they look at Dev smiling* Merry Christmas Dev. Dev: Wh-? Peri:*poofs a pair of ice skates that he say at the mall* Irep and I bought it...Okay well Irep stole it. We've over heard your father and the others on what you want to do for Christmas and of course... Irep: *sticks his tongue out at Peri*It was something else, so Puff and I decided to make you have your first normal Christmas even though your ten and-Devin? Dev:*had tears rolling down his face as he quickly wiped them away as he smiled* You guys did this? Peri:*nods a bit as he smiles*Yeah we did, so do you want to skate with me and Irep? Dev:*Shuffles a bit* I-I never learned how to ice skate. Irep:*grins* Well today is your lucky day! We'll teach you how and- Dev:*smiles happily as he looks at Peri* Thank you Peri, Merry Christmas. Peri:*smiles back* Of course, now come on let's get those skates on.

[midnight-mourning]

He’s a Little Confused but He's Got the Holiday Spirit

Hello! As the title implies, it's time for this to become a fic, for those that don't know, I wrote a prompt response that's basically a christmas au of confused spirit (curtosey of @divinit3a) and it was so good that I decided to make a full fic for it. this post contains the basic info of the fic, some lovely designs brought to life by Pom and will include links to each chapter as it posts ^_^

There's also a little poll at the end to vote on the title if you'd like to participate~

The Plot:

You're a blacksmith/animatronic technican in a small, mountain village, known far and wide across the kingdom for it's holiday decorations and delight. So much so that the royal family themselves visit yearly to partake in the festivities.

However, due to some recent threats and strange has happenings, there's much more security this year, and among that security is two royal guards who seem keenly interested in keeping you from investigating too far into the matter. And you, they're also interested in you.

The Characters:

Y/N - You! With the same personality, motivations, and goals as Y/N from Confused Spirit, and with a similar job as well. You run a shop in town with a small team of smithies, tinkerers, and inventors at your side. (I don't have a design currently but imagine a the most androgynous blacksmith/medival peasent outfit ever <33)

Sun & Moon - The two guards that have been meddling in your affairs. Though, given they've been a surprising help with your siblings, you can't say much. Also with the same personalities, and characteristics as Confused Spirit. However, they're motivations and goals are different and do not reflect their CS counterparts. Meaning, anything discovered about these two does not apply to or justify any actions taken by them in CS. Designs below are by Pom who brought my vision to life <3333

The Shop Crew - the parts & infastructure team from CS! with an adjustment here or there :)

Melissa & Gabriel - Your siblings. Still adorable. And still a menace.

All others - You'll just have to see :) There is some overlap from CS, such as Abby as some already know, among many more

Where to read:

I'll be posting these to tumblr & ao3! Tumblr first/only (until I can think up a title) but then I'll also have it on ao3 for better reading bc these will be long chapters.

Speaking of, there will be seven chapters total, including the one I've already posted!

Timeline:

Honestly want to tell y'all i'll be sharing a chapter every day or so, but after the disaster that was me last week with feeling unwell and getting behind, I'll just say, she'll be posted completely hopefully before my break is over 😅

Title (and tagging):

While I admit it WOULD be funny to just name it Holiday Spirit, I'm gonna let y'all decide for sure. I'll leave the poll up for a week since I'm not in a rush to post to ao3 (and I unfortunately doubt I'll have it done in a week lmao) everything related to it though will be tagged with #HS! au as the au is called Holiday Spirit, this is just for fun pretty much

Links will be posted here once I start uploading! Should start tomorrow hopefully ^-^

EDIT: messed up the poll, so sorry >_< if you already voted and it said 1 day pls vote again shkjdf

Tag list for the usuals (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[munsooooon]

car seat

@steddiemicrofic

written for ‘prompt: time’ wc: 485 | rated: m | cw: first time, steve harrington has bad parents, bottom steve harrington, top eddie munson. ✨️

"Steve, love, this is a bad idea."

Steve didn't respond, he unbuttoned Eddie's pants quickly, and with effort he tried to pull them down but Eddie stopped him by kissing his neck but Steve didn't want to stop. Eddie smiled and pulled his hair, Steve moaned and opened his eyes in surprise, only that way he could stop.

"We don't have time, Eddie, I have to get home before my parents notice my absence."

Steve had run away from home, his parents had returned to give a Christmas party that would allow them to show false altruism after the Hawkins earthquake. Steve was fed up, and when his dad sarcastically told him to smile because it was the most wonderful time of the year, he decided he had to run away.

Eddie squeezed Steve's ass, allowing himself to feel it, as if he wanted to imprint the rough feel of the jeans in his hands.

"I'm not going to fuck you in a car seat, it's something we'll do eventually, but your first time with a man" Eddie paused a little and kissed Steve's hand, then placed it on his chest, "our first time together has to be special."

Steve looked at him, surprised with tears in his eyes. No one had ever made him feel so special. He used to make girls' first times special, he treated them gently and made them feel great until they cried with pleasure, that's where his reputation came from but no one had ever cared about him, not even himself, he gave himself to sexuality as a very young man.

"Please," Steve whispered, shifting his body in his boyfriend's lap, "I need you"

"Stevie, don't do this to me," Eddie whispered, savouring Steve's every move, "I'll hurt you."

Steve placed soft kisses all over Eddie's face, enjoying the sensation on his lips and on his body. He leaned close to his ear and whispered:

"You won't. I locked myself in my room before going down to dinner and touched myself thinking of you."

Eddie looked him straight in the eye. Any little self-control he had achieved disappeared in that instant. He quickly unbuttoned Steve's pants and pulled them down, then did the same with his own.

Steve caught his boyfriend's lips, while he introduced a finger at his entrance, Steve gasped with surprise when he felt it, Eddie bit the other boy's lower lip when he felt how open he was.

After a brief preparation Eddie gave him, he introduced his cock inside Steve, who moaned at the intrusion, it sounded as if someone had hit his stomach and in his face Eddie could see the ecstasy he felt.

Eddie wanted to savor it but he knew there was no time to waste, he began to move quickly as Steve chased the sensation by moving his hips.

That was the first time Eddie saw Steve melt with pleasure.

🕸🕸

It's funny but it's also the first time I participated in a challenge in Steddie's fandom or any fandom. I hope you like it, thank you very much if you read it 💗.