#auld lang syne fic

[intothemultifandom]

Auld Lang Syne || Chapter One

Pairing: Han Gyeong-Su x Reader

Summary: Class 2-2's Vice President: VP.

In which the sensible Vice-President does their best to keep their little band of survivors alive.

Tags/Warnings: reader insert, character death, swearing, canon divergence, pre-relationship, angst + more

Chapter One

Harabeoji lays on the hospital bed, unaware that the world continues without him.

You're his only visitor today. The room is cold, and his heart monitor fills the silence since you won't.

You don't know what to say, where to start.

Do you tell him that he needs to wake up? That since he fell sick, your step-grandmother used his coma as an opportunity to move everyone from your family home (sans yourself) and that her son, your half-uncle and proxy, is already making deals to have the line of succession passed to him instead?

Seoul is too far from Hyosan for you to visit him, to remind him to keep fighting and to keep vigil at his bedside, but they moved his treatment here anyway. Have already brought themselves a sky-line apartment right in the centre.

If you told him that they've left you alone, that they've left you behind, would that be enough to wake him up?

On your lap, you've brought a collection of Western comic books you've been reading to practise your English and since you need to fill the quiet somehow, you pick one out to read:

The Walking Dead, it says.

If Harabeoji finds your pick distasteful, he doesn't say.

(You wish he would).

In a class-room setting, the Vice-President is meant to ensure that there is strong communication between the Class Reps and the President. When the President is absent, it is up to them to act in their stead. To lead the class through ever-changing situations with a clear head and mature outlook.

At times, you enjoy being responsible for such tasks. The position gives you a sense of purpose on days when you feel set adrift, makes you feel more present as you tend to your responsibilities and resolve minor conflicts. Those are the days you feel like an ordinary student, responsible only for the happenings of your class.

Other times however, it's a bitter reminder. Of Harabeoji who's counting on you to do good, of the dynasty you're set to inherit in his name and of the interests you've had to sacrifice in favour of activities more appealing for Universities overseas. Like being Vice-President.

Joon-Yeong insists you should have been Class President when the positions are first announced. It's unfair Nam-Ra gets the position because of her Mother's bribery when you're not only first in class but have given up more to commit to your school's night self-learning programme and your new role.

He says it with an air of indifference as he crosses his arms, but his eyes burn behind his glasses. You think it's because losing the Presidency to a friend will make the loss hurt a little less, and because it would excuse you from not hanging out with him and the others as much as you used to.

You don't point it out to him, though. Joon-Yeong has to come to his own conclusion for things to stick. Instead, you make a show of pointing your finger right at his nose as you order him–and the others watching–to call you "VP" henceforth.

It's not much, but if you show that you're not upset with the position you're given then your friends have no grounds to be angry on your behalf. You just hope that overtime, they'll come around about the Class President you do have in the meantime.

You did in the end, hadn't you?

Speaking of your Class President, Nam-Ra always complains about the music playing on your headphones whenever she slides into her seat next to you, but it doesn't stop her from leaning over your textbook to assess your work.

You respond by turning your volume all the way up so the melody of Auld Lang Syne rattles your ears, mouth curling when she nods begrudgingly at your answers.

There isn't much she'll find to begin with, but it's routine; Nam-ra grumbles about your music in the morning as she looks over your work (way better than her rhythm techno beats, mind you), and you pretend this isn't her odd way of showing her friendship.

Silently, you offer her a piece of Poki from your half-opened bag, your own show of friendship, and she accepts the treat after a long, drawn out moment. Even though she doesn't say anything, you can see her face soften in the corner of your eye, and beyond the obvious, you're glad that she's not actually mad about your song choice for today.

"Wake me up when Ms. Park comes," you say after a moment, falling into your normal position as you cross your arms over your textbook, cushioning your head as you close your eyes. Nam-ra predictably grumbles at your command, but doesn't make a move to disturb you.

And drifting off, you hope that today is another calm day.

It's not.

Hyeon-Ju's bloodied entrance is too shocking for the day to be anything but calm.

Even when she's whisked away by Ms. Park, Su-Hyeok and a few others to the infirmary, the shock gives way to unease and the feeling settles under your skin before you can do anything about it. It makes you itch to do something, anything.

Ms. Park instructs you all to resume studying but hearing what Hyeon-Ju said and seeing her state in general, more than half the class group together to brainstorm what happened between your classmate and Mr. Lee.

Nam-Ra seems to be the only one actually studying and while it looks like you are too, with all your pens laid out and your head tilted down to your book, you're actually listening in on the chatter around you. Pulling out your stationary was just a show of solidarity, if anything.

From what you gather, no one seems to say anything that corroborates your unease or the sense of foreboding that's taken root. Dae-Su's idea is perverse, Wu-Jin is quick to slap him on the back of his head, and I-Sak returns with a troubled face before the others can chime in.

At once, everyone turns their attention towards her, even Nam-Ra, but the weight of someone's stare grows heavy on the side of your face so you turn to other side of the room instead, catching Gyeong-Su's gaze just as he snaps his head back to I-Sak.

You're sure he knows you caught him staring at you because the tips of his ears are pink, and his posture is rigid as he faces the front. If you weren't feeling so agitated, your skin still itching, you'd smile at his embarrassment.

How long will he wait before he confesses?

"–What happened? Is Hyeon-Ju okay?" Wu-Jin chimes. He kneels next to I-Sak when he asks, and you begin tapping your finger on your desk when she speaks, pulled back to the matter at hand.

When you saw Hyeon-Ju last, the poor girl was delirious as she stumbled into the room, eyes fluttering as she tried to stay awake. Her face was bloodied, her hair was matted and when she collapsed by Ms. Parks' feet, she could could barely move.

However, the Hyeon-Ju I-Sak left in the infirmary sounds like a completely different person.

Having to be restrained as she thrashed on the bed. Hissing. Biting.

She scratched Ms. Kim, I-Sak says.

There's a cold sweat running down the back of your neck the more you imagine it, different scenarios flitting through your head in quick succession, but when I-Sak mentions some weird shot Mr. Lee injected her with, the agitation you feel reaches a crescendo.

You stop tapping, deciding that you need to see things yourself.

Nam-Ra glances at you from the corner of her eye, and you hope the look you flash her doesn't belie your nerves.

It turns out though that the Class President must consider you more of a friend than you realised (the kind of friend that you cover for), because her mouth twists like she knows you're up to something but doesn't push.

"I'll find a mop to clean up the mess," you lie, grabbing your bag.

"Hurry back," is Nam-Ra's cool reply.

This is a multi-fic story. 

I intend to post this story on Wattpad and Ao3 shortly. Maybe even Quotev and FF.net, too. 

[owltrifecta]

i used to weave crowns. Van and Lottie spend the holidays together, December 1995. 6.3k words, rated T, lottievan friendship feat. a dash of taivan at the very end.

Part Two: New Year's Eve! Lottie's not having a great night. Van comforts her the best way she can: with a story.

"Do you remember when I was eleven," she murmurs, half to herself, "and I tried to run away from home?" She has no idea where she's going with this, but Lottie sniffs and nods, a little calmer at least, so Van keeps going. "I had no idea what I was doing," she says to the ceiling. It's painted hospital-ward white, so bright it hurts her eyes. "I was just...well, my mom and I had a fight." (Her mother, howling like something wild, throwing one of Dad's favorite coffee mugs against the wall, missing Van's head by inches. Van's eyes blurring with tears, turning her mother into a screaming smear.) "It was a whole damn mess," she continues. "I was pissed. So I packed some clothes and a toothbrush and my ratty old fox plush into a duffel bag and I hit the road."

[playitagainmyjohnny]

uh hi  * waves * .  i know i don’t really uh .  talk much .  here .  but well !  it’s the end of the year and that felt like cause for .  idk .  whatever it is i’m attempting here lol .  so anyway .  the year is ending !  the year is ending .  i started this blog back in november of 2021 and then in 2022 i got far cry 5 .  on march 1st, by pure chance, i posted a set .  and then i thought huh, that was the first of the month, might as well try for a set on the 2nd, and yeah sure why not make one for the 3rd too .  at some point i realized that march was fc5′s release anniversary and that just seemed too perfect to waste so i decided fuck it, i’ll do a new fc5 set every day for the month, to celebrate its release, and then .  well tbh i had no idea what i was gonna do after march ended really lmao .  i guess i didn’t really have any plans for after that, not that i was going to quit posting or anything, just that i had no idea if i was going to stick to the whole new-post-a-day thing i had going on or scale back but well, here i am .  i’ve managed to somehow make a new post every single day since march 1st and decided to aim for a year of new sets ( so i have about 2 more months to go i think ) but after that ?  * shrugs *  fuck if i know .  again lmao .  maybe i’ll just see how long i can keep going making a post a day until i give up, forget, this site dies, or .  whatever the fuck else happens i guess !     but i want to say to everyone that’s been here, no matter how long : thank you .  really and truly, from the bottom of my heart : thank you .  i never really thought i’d garner much attention at all for my shots, so to have any number of people here is really amazing, let alone the number i’ve somehow reached .  i read every single tag and comment i get on my photos, multiple times, and all of the sweet and kind words i’ve received have done so, so much for me .  i feel like my words really can’t express the entirety of it, but please know that i read every word .  i appreciate every word .  part of why i’ve stuck at this so long is because of those kind words, because of knowing i’m bringing other people joy with what i’m doing .  and please know too that you also bring me so much joy !!  every note, every kind tag, every interaction ... i treasure all of it .  * falls over * i’m really excited to keep shooting more in 2023 !  i got a few new games this past year, and i’ve had a wonderful time taking pictures in them, as well as just playing them in general .  hopefully i can pick up some fun things in 2023 as well and take even more shots !!  

anyway anyway .  i think that’s about all i have to say ( i’ve rambled on enough as is lol ) .  so i’ll end with a final thank you for being here !  i love you .  and happy new year  🖤

[zepskies]

Love Actually - Part 3

Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: You and Ben steel yourselves in order to meet your crazy family for Christmas dinner.  

AN: And here’s Part 3, lovelies. Stick around after the end for a special announcement (new BMD fic dropping next weekend)!

Remember, this is set in the same world as “Break Me Down,” and set before “Checkerboard.” There will be a few references to the original story in this. But on the whole, this can be read as a stand-alone!

Word Count: 5,300 Warnings: 18+ only! Smutty smut ahead. Lots of fluff and a potential overload of feels.~

Part 3: “Auld Lang Syne”

You leaned down, subtly grabbing his thigh.

“I need you,” you whispered in his ear. The tone of your voice set his blood alight with new interest.

Ben’s resulting smirk was subtle, but edged. “A tour it is.” 

Ben got up from the couch, giving you a thinly veiled look of smugness. He knew you’d come around. 

You nearly rolled your eyes. 

But when you told your grandfather your plans to show your boyfriend the rest of the house, he just waved the two of you off. He was too invested in the baseball game to give it much thought.

Which left Ben to follow you up the stairs, where he admired the curve of your ass in this little dress. He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and grabbed a delectable handful. 

You gasped and clung to the guardrail. You shot him a warning look over your shoulder, despite your smile. 

Not yet, your gaze told him. But you took his hand and guided him the rest of the way up. His grip tightened on yours.

All right. He could wait.

When they got to the second floor though, Ben started to get curious about the large two-story house. 

“I thought you said your mom had debts,” he said. “Supposedly, that’s why you took on the job of hunting me down.”

You chuckled humorlessly. “Don’t let that Betty Crocker apron fool you. She’s a degenerate gambler.”

Behind you, Ben’s brows rose a bit.

You paused a step. “Or, well, she used to be. As you know, my family has issues.”

He snorted in response. Something else occurred to him though.

“Is this the house you grew up in?” he asked. You full on stopped walking then. 

“Oh, no,” you said, with a firm shake of your head. “She sold that house after the divorce. She bought this one with the settlement money.”

Ben ruminated over that as you led him into the guest bathroom. He closed the door behind him with a soft click, and by the time he turned around, you were there with your warm hands on his chest, shoving back his jacket.

He smirked and shrugged it off the rest of the way, then draped it on the doorknob behind him. He started with unbuttoning and rolling up the sleeves of his black dress shirt. 

You watched him with hunger in your eyes, running your hands down his firm chest and solid abs. 

You heaved a breath of relief when he pulled you in. He wrapped his arms around your waist and started kissing down your neck. You clung to his arms and tried to stop yourself from digging your nails into his nice shirt. 

“What changed your mind?” Ben asked.

“Are you complaining?” you quipped.

“Always a fucking smartass,” he rejoined. And his lips left you, with him giving you raised brow. His thigh slipped between your legs, a slow and torturous friction. “Maybe I’ll just leave that pretty pussy on fire.”

Ugh, you thought. He could be so annoying. You leveled your stern eyes up at him. 

“I need you to fuck me. Right now,” you said. “Or I’m gonna rip my aunt’s face off.” 

You reached down to cup his length firmly through his slacks, earning a grunt from him. It ended on a groan when you grazed him with your nails. He chuckled deeply.

“That’s kinda hot,” he replied. An understatement. The hairs on his arms were standing up, along with his cock. 

You smiled in amusement. “You would think so.”

He grabbed your arms and meant to kiss you, but you stopped him with your fingers against his lips. 

“Two rules: this lipstick doesn’t come off. And no. Ripping. The dress.”

By no means did you want to get caught doing this. You already felt guilty, and you two hadn’t even done anything yet. But you needed this, or else you weren’t sure you could get through dinner without any violent incidents.  

But you could tell that Ben was annoyed at being given restrictions as he stared down at you. 

“You’re making a lot of fucking demands tonight,” he said, squeezing your arms a bit.  

You smirked and tilted your face up to him. You leaned up, nearly brushing your lips with his. 

“Isn’t it more satisfying when you have to work for it?” you asked.

Ben huffed, and almost rolled his eyes. If there was one thing you enjoyed doing, it was testing his fucking patience. 

But then he smirked. “Fine.”

He gripped your arms tighter and turned you around, pressing you against the pristine granite countertop. You met his darkened gaze in the mirror.  

You knew then that he was going to do one of his favorite things: taking you from behind while he made you watch. It wasn’t the first time, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. But you parted your legs, your lower belly quivering with anticipation as his thigh encouraged you.  

His hands soothed down your arms, dragging across your body, squeezing your breasts over your dress while his lips burned down your neck once more. His teeth grazed your skin, making you shudder.

You then remembered to turn the faucet on in the sink. It would create some more background noise, and hopefully disguise your moans as his hands traveled down your body. 

You helped him slide the skirt of your dress up, tug your pantyhose down to your ankles without ripping them. 

“Hmm, I like the black lace,” he murmured behind you. His fingers dragged down your skin along with your panties.

“I know,” you replied on a shaky breath, as his fingers teased the slit of your pussy from behind, brushing between the folds. “You bought ‘em last week.”

“Did I?” he mused, as his fingers found your clit. He rubbed a bit roughly, drawing a pleased sound from your lips. “I’ve got good taste.”

A smile broke out across your face. “See? I never need to pay you any compliments. You can stroke your own ego just fine.”

Ben tilted his head at you. He peered around your shoulder to catch your eye. You gave him a sly look over your shoulder, though it was edged with desire.

“Oh yeah?” His words were a challenge. His fingers entered you then, earning an even deeper moan from you, though you tried to taper it down. “Maybe I should let you stroke your own too, huh?”

You shook your head, biting your lip. Your inner walls were already clenching on his fingers, and you had to grab his arm and the counter for balance. 

“Ben, please,” you whispered more raggedly. His smirk took on a wicked edge. 

“Oh, now it’s please?” he said, his voice drawing deeper, more gruff. “Please what?”

You couldn’t speak. His fingers were working overtime pulsing inside you, while his other hand joined, parting your folds to press on your clit like a button. You were so fucking close, you could taste it…    

But as soon as that coil began to truly tighten, Ben withdrew his fingers. You panted for breath, and your gaze snapped up to his in the mirror. You glared at him. 

“What the f—”

“Answer me,” he demanded. “Or I really will walk the fuck out right now.” 

Big talk, you thought, from the man with a rock-hard dick. But you blew out a breath and conceded to his demands. 

“Please,” you said, reaching back to stroke his cheek, running your fingers through his hair, bringing him closer. Your hand clenched in his hair. And with the other, you took his hand, still wet from where it had been inside you, and brushed it against your slippery folds. 

“This is all because of you,” you said. “Only ever for you. Fuck me until I break an ankle in these heels. ‘Til I can’t fucking breathe.”

Ben’s chest warmed. And it wasn’t just about his pride.

Somehow, you gave him everything he wanted to hear and more. Maybe that was part of what he loved about you. Even when you demanded from him, you gave him more of yourself.

So he gave you what you wanted. He guided you down onto the counter and rucked up your dress. Per rule #2, he did it gently enough so he wouldn’t rip the fabric. 

You heard his pants unzipping, felt the weeping head of his cock against your folds, teasing you for a moment. You gripped the counter and made a sound of pleading frustration. 

“I gotcha, baby,” Ben said, lowly in your ear. He gripped your hip and guided his cock inside you, nice and slow. You both breathed hard, trying to keep your voices down. He then bottomed out, and it made your inner walls flutter and tighten. He made a gutteral sound, low and pleased. “Such a good girl.”

His darkened green eyes fixed on yours in the mirror. It was heat and desire, but it was also deeper. It always had been, ever since he met you.

And for you, his gaze alone was a molten caress. If you had it your way, you could very well spend the rest of the night in the guest bathroom. In this very moment… 

But it had already been a while in here. You didn’t know how much time you had left before someone came to find you two, so you squeezed his hand on your hip. 

“Get going, cowboy,” you teased, but it was really a command. Ben saw it in your heated gaze in the mirror, meeting his. He slid out of you slow at first, but snapped back in harder. It made you jolt, but also shudder and squeeze him from the inside out. He wished he had the time to do this how he wanted, taking his time, but that was one thing they didn’t have.

He made up for it by taking you hard and deep, putting you through your paces. You held on for dear life while trying not to let your voice raise higher. It was a challenge for you, and you knew Ben liked hearing your voice. But when he hit a particularly good angle, you couldn’t help but cry out a bit. 

He brushed your hair away from your neck and pressed his lips there. He had to bite down to stifle his own grunts. It had you gasping at pain mixed with pleasure. 

He was getting close too; you could feel it in his wilder thrusts, in the tightening of his hand on your hip. You needed just a bit more.

“Ben,” you whispered. He heard the ragged need in your voice. He saw it in your eyes when he met them in the mirror, desperate for release.

“Tell me,” he ground out. 

You took his hand guided it again down to part your folds. He took the hint and once again circled the pads of his fingers against your clit—this time with purpose. Your breath hitched as the coil in your belly finally snapped and released its warmth. 

He gave you a few more hard thrusts before his hips stuttered as he groaned, and he spilled inside you. 

Oh shit. You still hadn’t gotten your IUD replaced…

Oh fucking well, you thought, as your core still quivered with pleasure. This was worth playing a bit fast and loose with your birth control.

For a while, the sounds of your mingled breaths were almost drowned out by the water running. You turned off the faucet. Then your eyes met Ben’s in the mirror, and you smiled. 

The corner of his mouth raised. He slid out of you, but you kept him close with a hand around the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair. Part of you couldn’t believe you just fucked your boyfriend in your mother’s house, in the guest bathroom of all places. But you felt all the better for it. 

Or at least, you no longer had a desire for blood. You stroked the arm that still held you upright, more bracing now than restrictive. You felt his seed spilling down your inner thighs, but you couldn’t yet force yourself to move. Your legs were still shaky. 

However, you knew you could rely on the strong pillar of his arms holding you. Ben rested his cheek against your hair, pressing a kiss there.

“You’re beautiful tonight,” he said. 

Your eyes widened with soft shock. When it slowly faded, you bit your lip. Your body shook with quiet laughter as your brows rose high.

“Right now?” you asked. With your dress rucked up and your pantyhose rolled down to your ankles.

“Yeah. Right now,” Ben said. “A fucking sight.” 

And he meant it. 

You could tell, and that warmed you down to your toes. Your smile softened as you rested against him and closed your eyes for a moment.

“You don’t know how glad I am that you’re here with me,” you said. “Thank you.”

“I’ve got some idea,” he murmured, smirking as you once again trembled with a giggle. 

You reluctantly detangled yourself from him to reach down under the sink for a washcloth. Ben let go of your waist, only so he could take the small towel from your hand. You looked up at him in confusion, but he leaned around you to run the cloth under a bit of warm water from the sink.

He then got down on one knee in front of you, and proceeded to clean you up himself. Your eyes widened as you stared down at him. Your breath caught in your throat. 

He’d never done this before. Something about it made you blush. The sheer intimacy of it, probably, of his hand running the warm cloth up your bare inner thighs. His free hand held one of your calves, his thumb resting just under your knee. 

You had to reach for his shoulder to stabilize yourself when the cloth swiped between your thighs, against your sensitive core. It made your lower belly tingle again with a spark of arousal. You breathed in slow and deep before you spoke.

“Not that I’m complaining, but…” you trailed. You weren’t even able to finish your question. 

Ben met your gaze with a raised brow. “What, can’t take care of my girl?” 

It took you a moment, but eventually you smiled. The kind of smile that made your insides warm and buoyant, and your stomach clench.

You had a feeling he’d overheard you and your sister talking earlier. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d eavesdropped with his superior hearing.

Your expression faded a bit when something occurred to you. You tilted your head at him.

“You heard everything my aunt said, didn’t you?” you asked. 

Ben paused a moment, holding the towel against your inner thigh. His lips drew downward as he remembered what he’d heard while trying to concentrate on the baseball game with George. 

“I’m just sayin’!” Trina said. “He might have forever, but you certainly don’t.”

If Louisa hadn’t stepped in when she had, Ben might’ve had to ruin his new suit, if not the evening.

“Seems like having a big fucking mouth runs in your family,” he muttered. 

You snorted. “Yeah, but mine’s endearing. She’s just a bitch, still bitter from her divorce.”

Ben didn’t answer. Though after he finished cleaning you up, he rested and elbow on his bent knee. His free hand dragged up your thigh and over your hip, squeezing soft flesh.

“Yeah well, put her in her place next time, or I will,” he said. His tone was edged, and you gave him a wry look. 

“I’ll try not to give you the chance,” you said. 

“I mean it,” Ben said. His gaze bore into yours, unyielding, even from where he knelt at your feet. He stood to his full height, tucking in his shirt and zipping his pants back up as he went. 

“No one’s got the fucking right to talk about our business,” he said. “And you better not listen to a goddamn word. About me, and sure as shit, not about you.”

A small, sharp breath got stuck in your throat. Just then, you found you had to swallow past a swell of emotion lodging in your throat. 

His hands found their way back to your hips and squeezed gently, but with purpose. You read it in his eyes. 

“You hearing me?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Your aunt was someone who always “meant well.” You had gotten far too used to swallowing your tongue for your mother’s sake. And at the end of the day, you usually knew how to let Trina’s words roll off. You’d certainly had plenty of practice.

But regardless, your heart grew for this man. 

You took his face between your hands, and you kissed him deeply, breaking rule #1.

You took a few more minutes to fix your clothes, your hair, and yes, your lipstick. 

When you two eventually went back downstairs, the table was nearly set. The appetizers and wine remained, along with the plates and silverware. All that was missing was dinner itself. 

“Okay, looks like dinner’s about ready. I’m gonna go and help,” you said. You gave Ben a parting smile and let your fingers run down the back of his arm. He shot you a wink, and one last pat on the ass. 

You had to stifle your squeal, sending him a playfully warning look on your way to the kitchen. You stepped back in to see your mom pouring the cranberry sauce into a serving pitcher. 

“Oh, glad Miss Congeniality could grace us again with her presence,” Trina remarked at the sight of you. 

You gave her a flat smile. “What do you need?”

“We’re serving. Help your mom,” she said, nodding behind her. You wordlessly agreed and went over to Marie, who gave you a curious look. 

“Where were you all that time?” she asked. Louisa looked over with the same question in her eyes. 

“Well, I said hi to Grandpa,” you said. It wasn’t a lie, and technically, nor were your next words. “And then I gave Ben a tour of the house.”

When the fuck is dinner already? Ben thought as he approached the dining table filled with mini quiche, pigs-in-a-blanket, and other appetizers. His stomach was starting to growl something fierce. He was craving real food, but he still grabbed one of the small plates.

While he surveyed the layout of finger food, Great Aunt Silvia sidled up next to him with her cane in hand. Ben noticed her out of the corner of his eye. According to George, she’d had a hip replacement last month. 

“Hey, there,” he greeted somewhat politely, if distracted by adding food to his small plate.  

“Oh, my days. You’re Soldier Boy,” she said in surprise. Her eyes twinkled with delight.

Where’ve you been, lady? Ben thought in annoyance. Oh, that’s right. Passed out in a damn oxy coma.

Before he could respond with something half gracious, he felt a bony hand get a meaty handful of his ass. 

He actually flinched, more at the suddenness than anything else. A pig-in-a-blanket flew from his plate and rolled off the table. 

Ben gave the old woman an incredulous look. What the fuck? 

“Excuse me?” he uttered. 

But of course, she played dumb. And she ducked quick when you came over with the mashed potatoes in large bowl. You set it down on the table, but you noted the grouchy look on his face as he looked past you into the living room. Great Aunt Sylvia waddled away with the help of her cane, back to her nice recliner. 

“What’s the matter?” you asked, earning his attention.

“Silvia’s a wily old broad,” he muttered. At the look on your face, however, he felt the need to clarify. “Apparently she got my ass confused with the quiche.”    

You bit your lip, and your eyes widened. You had to stifle a shocked giggle as you glanced past him to your great aunt, who’d taken her usual seat by her brother. You slid Ben a knowing smirk.

“I thought you liked older women,” you teased. 

He scoffed. “Gotta draw the line somewhere. I think ‘hip replacement’ is that line.”

“Not running for the Astroglide, huh?” you whispered in his ear.  

He grimaced, even though he also wanted to laugh. He just shook his head. 

“Jesus Christ, enough.”

You stifled a laugh through your nose and soothed his arm. 

“Here, help us with getting the ham on the table. Maybe we can avoid another member of my family playing grab ass.”

Once Christmas dinner was all set on the dining table, you were practically salivating. You had a hard time deciding on what to try first: the ham, the sweet potato casserole, the cranberry sauce, or stick as much of all three on your fork as you could. 

You went with the latter, and Louisa eyed you with a laugh. 

“What?” you asked with your mouth full. It got Ben’s attention as well.

“You do this every year,” Louisa remarked. “It’s like you forgot how long it takes to get dinner on the table in this house.”  

“I’m freakin’ starving,” you admitted. 

“Yeah? Worked up an appetite, did you?” Ben asked, a bit pointedly, despite the way he sipped at his wine. (And paying you back for that Astroglide quip). 

You shot him a warning look at his audacity.

Louisa seemed to be the only one who caught the exchange, with a suspicious brow raise. 

“So Ben,” Trina began, around a mouthful of ham. Already her voice set you on edge. “What was it like in the ‘40s? You know, with the Nazis and everything.”

You and Ben shared a subtle glance. His jaw clenched. 

Fuuuucking hell, you thought.

From the head of the table, Grandpa George looked over at his eldest daughter with an annoyed glint in his eye. 

“Katrina, do us all a favor,” he said wryly. “Keep stuffin’ your face.” 

You bit your lip against a grin. Louisa shared your same problem, snorting into her Diet Coke. 

Trina looked adequately indignant, but to everyone’s relief, she just pursed her lips and speared at her plate.  

The rest of dinner was interesting, to say the least, with many questions thrown to Ben about his celebrity days. He ate up the attention, just as you thought he would. It seemed your little escapade upstairs loosened him up too. He told his favorite stories, editing the more graphic anecdotes out of some of them, you noticed gratefully. 

The atmosphere only got tense when Ben bit into some kind of casserole Marie made. The texture was soft and stringy with green beans, but there was something unpleasantly sweet, and even crunchy in the middle. Uncooked noodles, maybe? Frankly, he wasn’t sure what he was eating. 

“You all right, hun?” Marie asked him. 

“What is this?” Ben asked, pointing down at his plate with a fork. 

“Ah.” Trina peered at his plate, and then the suspect casserole. “It’s probably not quite right. God love her, but my sister’s no Gordon Ramsay.”

You frowned as your mom’s gaze fell. Her lips drew downwards in disappointment. 

Before you could speak up, Ben’s voice stopped you. 

“You know what,” Ben said. His voice was tight, in a way that told you he might just snap. Your aunt’s questions had gotten more intrusive and annoying over the past hour, too much even for him to let roll down his back. He was used to dealing with shitty press, but Trina was fucking relentless.

Someone better fucking muzzle this bitch before I do it for her. 

The words were about to fly out of his mouth, in a very real threat. Ben only took his belt off in public for two reasons: a good fuck and a good old-fashioned hog tie. Your aunt was about to get the latter. 

However, he could tell by the way you were gripping the edge of the table, you were bracing yourself for whatever he was going to say next. All eyes were on him.

Ben drew in a breath. With every cell of effort left in him, he turned to Marie with a smile. As pleasant as he could manage. 

“I was just trying to figure out what you put in this, because it’s delicious,” he said.

Marie blinked with a bit of surprise, but then, she brightened. 

“Oh…well, it’s just green bean casserole. A bit of butter, some Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup. That classic recipe,” she said.

But she paused, in a way that told Ben that the other shoe was about to drop. 

“…And I just added a few raisins and walnuts this time. For some texture,” she said with a shrug. “You know, something different.”

She smiled at Ben, while he and the rest of the table tried not to grimace. Who the fuck puts raisins in cream of mushroom? That’s just wrong.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she said.

Ben offered her a nod, but he had to take a long sip of wine to wash the unpleasant mix of overbearing salt and sweetness down. 

He felt your soft hand squeeze his under the table. When he looked over, he found your subtle, thankful smile. The corner of his mouth raised, however slightly. 

The night ticked on, and Ben subtly checked his watch while he chilled out on the couch. He was at the edge of the festivities now, as your family was exchanging gifts by the modest Christmas tree in the living room. 

He surveyed them all—warm and comfortable with one other as they joked and hugged and talked and laughed. Even Trina looked less irritating. 

Ben felt a bit like an intruder. 

Hell, he didn’t think he’d ever had this. A quiet, family Christmas.  

Though he was a bit surprised when Marie was the first one to walk over to him. She sat down on the couch and offered him two gift bags. One was larger than the other.

“You didn’t have to,” he told her, but she waved him off.

“Nonsense. When I saw this, I couldn’t help thinking of you,” she said. Ben began opening the larger one first. It was a simple, dark blue bag. 

“You might think it’s silly,” she said, folding her hands in her lap in a slightly nervous gesture. “Feel free to return it if you don’t like it.”

Ben pulled out a nice bottle of whiskey. He actually appreciated this one. 

“Oh! That’s from Louisa,” said Marie. 

“Really?” He glanced over and found Louisa sitting on the floor beside you. 

You were busy trying to cut through a present Grandpa George had wrapped with duct tape, just to be an asshole. (He did this to you every year, precisely because it frustrated you so much.)  

But Louisa looked up and met Ben’s gaze, giving him a wry smile and a lazy soldier’s salute. His lips quirked, and he inclined his head in wordless thanks.

“This one next,” Marie prompted him. She tapped on the second gift bag, which was bright green and shiny. 

There he found a leatherbound journal and a set of silver ballpoint pens. They looked expensive. They also reminded him of a set his father used to keep in his desk, in his study. Even the smell of the leather brought him back to that room, filled with books, crisp ink-filled pages, and tumblers of whiskey.  

“I’ve worked in a hospital for over ten years, in the psychology wing,” Marie said. “I see a lot of veterans. Lisa, my friend who’s a nurse? She told me that writing things down can help with memories you want to keep, and sort through the ones you’d rather not.” 

Ben held her gaze for a moment, but it soon fell to the journal. He didn’t really know what to say. For once, he was at a loss for words. 

Mostly because he was irritated. He didn’t need what she was offering, and implying…

Still, it was hard to get mad at someone like Marie. It would be like all those times he’d snapped at his own mother, leaving him feeling hollow inside afterwards. He’d always apologized to her later…in his own way. 

But that was a long time ago.

“Sorry,” Marie said eventually. “I know, you’re too busy for all that. But at least you’ve got the whiskey.”

“Thank you,” Ben said. But the reserved smile he offered her was more genuine than even he expected. The journal and the pens still laid in his lap. 

Marie smiled warmly, and in it, Ben saw your inner softness. The way you cared about your family and your friends, and him…he knew then that it began here.

Marie gave his cheek a motherly pat. Ben allowed it, begrudgingly.

“We’re so glad you’re here, honey,” she said. “I hope you had a good time.”

He was a bit relieved when she finally moved on. She headed over to Louisa, who was opening one of her gifts. You got up off the floor returned to your boyfriend with a wrapped box in your hand. First, you admired his small haul. 

“Look who’s popular,” you noted with a grin. Ben gave you a bemused look and put the gifts back in their respective bags. 

“I’ve got one more for you,” you said, with a teasing smile that made him suspicious. You handed him the box, which was about the size of a large book. The sticker said it was from you, to him.

His brows furrowed. “What’s this?”

You already got him the watch. But at your gesturing, he ripped the green wrapping paper off to find…a photo album. 

“Really, what is this?” he asked. 

“You can’t tell?”

“I know what it is—”

“Well, then open it,” you prodded. You sat down next to him as he started flipping through the album. 

The very first picture wiped the curious expression from his face. It was his mother, crisp in black and white. She was young and beautiful and smiling almost shyly for the camera on a windy day. 

Right beside it, there was one of his parents’ wedding pictures, old and yellowed around the corners. The third was a faded picture of the club where his parents met. His mother had been a singer there. 

You leaned over with a hand on his shoulder. Ben looked over at you.

“What the hell did you do?” Ben he asked. His face was hard to read, but he didn’t look upset. His tone was more resigned.

“I found your stash of pictures under the bed, so I thought I’d put them together for you,” you said. You bit your lip in worry, hoping he would like it. You weren’t sure of his reaction yet.

After a moment, he kept flipping. Next were a few pictures of himself, incredibly young and already with a familiar cocky grin. There was even a rare picture of him and his parents together. He remembered when and where it was taken—at his father’s birthday, right after Ben got kicked out of boarding school. 

He hadn’t looked at these pictures in…hell. It’d been decades. He'd retrieved them from an old storage locker last month, but hadn't gotten around to actually opening up the box. Now, he supposed, he didn't have to.

But the album then skipped ahead, by a lot, because the next row of pictures was unfamiliar to him—ones you must’ve added. 

They were of the Supe Affairs team. One was a group picture Hughie managed to grab with all of you in it. 

There was another right beside it, of Hughie trying to lift Ben’s shield. 

“When the fuck did that little shit get ahold of my shield?” Ben groused.

“No idea,” you said with a smile, and you flipped the page. There was an old school polaroid of you with Frenchie and Kimiko, sharing milkshakes. Then you and Annie, clinking cocktails together. Followed by you and M.M. trying to beat Butcher at backgammon. 

And then one of you, your friend Yvette, and her son Devon in Central Park. Another beside it, on that same day, where Ben had an arm raised high and parallel to the ground, and Devon clung onto his arm with a wide smile. 

Ben lingered on that picture for a moment. He was too engrossed in it to see you glance at him, smiling.

He flipped to the next page, where there was a picture of just you and Ben, sleeping in the jet on the way back from a rare field mission you were a part of. He was still in his supe suit, with an arm thrown around your waist. You were resting on his chest, and both of you were completely knocked out. Ben quirked a smile at that one. 

On that page and the next was a series of pictures from the past few months. He didn’t know this, but you’d been collecting them from your phone and had gotten them developed. 

There was the first time Ben got you to ride a motorcycle with him. You were apprehensive, clinging to him for dear life while he grinned. It had taken him a while to convince you to hop on, but the only thing that worked was finally telling you the truth. 

“You really think for one damn second that I’m gonna let you fall?”

The next picture was one he got of you, fresh out of the shower with a towel barely wrapped around you. You were clearly annoyed, but also amused that he’d surprised you with the camera. Ben now pointed to it.

“That one’s my favorite,” he grinned.

“Shocker,” you said with a chuckle. “Keep flipping.”

He then got to one you took of him. He was sitting out on the balcony, half-dressed with a cigar puffing away. The sun was setting beyond him. You caught his profile as he turned to look at you over his shoulder. 

It was a good memory for you, and some damn good photography skills, if you did say so yourself. 

But there was another picture that drew Ben’s eye. It was one that Annie sneakily took of you and him on a night out with her, Hughie, Kimiko, and Frenchie. After a bit of alcohol and cajoling, you’d managed to get Ben out on the dance floor. You were both dewy with sweat from dancing. The lighting was off because of the darkness of the club. 

But the way he was holding you, looking at you with fire thinly veiled behind his eyes, and the way you were looking up at him, like you’d never been more satisfied than to be right where you were…

It was a damn perfect moment captured in four corners. And as Ben’s finger traced the edge of them, he couldn’t stop staring at what it held. 

Until you leaned in and kissed his cheek. 

“Merry Christmas,” you said. And you hoped it was officially a good one.  

When Ben once again turned his head to look at you, he couldn’t help but reach out and frame your face with his hand. He then leaned in and kissed you, unhurried, but with an underlying passion. 

Delightful heat crawled down your spine. You grasped his collar to keep him where you wanted him. 

Meanwhile, the two of you didn’t realize that the rest of your family was surreptitiously watching the little scene. Trina and Marie shared amused smiles. George was glad to see that you finally seemed happy. Sylvia was, once again, passed out in the recliner.

Louisa’s expression was more reserved…but her eyes softened. Maybe she didn’t have to worry about you so much after all.

And when Ben finally parted from you, he thumbed gently at your chin.  

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said.

You and Ben left your mother’s house with plenty of leftover food and a haul of presents, which you both brought upstairs into your apartment. 

“So, I know there were some snafus, but it was nice, right?” you asked him as you made your way into the bedroom.

Ben was already there at his dresser, taking off his new watch and placing it back in its black suede box for safe keeping. He considered your words with a nod, and a smile you couldn’t see.

“It wasn’t bad,” he said. 

You nodded in satisfaction. That was practically a glowing review, coming from him. 

His gaze found yours in the mirror, those perfectly red painted lips forming a smile as you approach from behind. Your hands travelled through the bows of his arms to unbuckle his belt for him. 

“I know you did me a lot of favors today, but I’m gonna need one more,” you said, with a coy smile curving your lips. “I need your help taking off this lipstick.”

Smirking, Ben turned in your arms and leaned back casually against the dresser. Using his unfastened belt as leverage, you leaned up in your heels and met his lips in a slow, but fiery kiss.

His eyes unconsciously closed as the scent of your perfume once again invaded his nose. It was less powerful by now, but it still clung to your skin like a soft imprint. He liked it. 

After your lips drew away from his, Ben watched you make a show of undoing the small latch on his pants, and then his zipper. He sunk his fingers into the soft waves of your hair, and he gave you a charming grin that once got him starlets and movie deals. 

“Well, I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” he said.  

You smirked at that. You didn’t know if fucking you in your mom’s house constituted as gentlemanly behavior, but you’d let that slide. 

And you did some sliding yourself, down his strong thighs and onto your knees. He could take care of you all right, but you prided yourself on taking care of him too. 

AN: And there you have it, folks. 😜 What did you think? From bathroom shenanigans and Christmas dinner to some good old-fashioned gift giving. I think we covered it all! lol

Coming Soon: "Strong As Blood"

The next story I have lined up for the BMD-verse will probably be my last planned one for a hot minute, other than one request I got that I really want to do in the near future (but I haven't written it as of yet).

This next one is called, "Strong As Blood":

Summary: After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out? 

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

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@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92

[aquagirl1978]

Auld Lang Syne - Comte de Saint-Germain x Reader (Ikemen Vampire)

A/N: Ny last fic of 2023 - Happy New Year's Eve! Day 6 of my 12 Days of Christmas. Also part of my New Year, New Celebration follower celebration.

Pairing: Comte de Saint-Germain x Reader

Prompt: kiss on the hand

Word Count: 353

Tags: fluff with the tiniest hint of spice at the end

“You look absolutely ravishing tonight.”

Comte was standing next to the carriage, his hand extended to you as he waited for you to make your way down the mansion steps.

You were alight with excitement as you held the hem of your new ball gown, careful not to trip in your new shoes. You paused as you slipped your gloved hand into his; his dazzling smile hid the hedonist lurking underneath the elegant black tuxedo.

“After you, ma chérie,” he said. Lifting your hand to his lips, he brushed a chaste kiss across your knuckles. Your cheeks flushed with warmth as he flicked his eyes up, his golden gaze burning with unbridled desire. 

It was cozy in the carriage when Comte slid into the seat next to you. With your bodies pressed together, the heat from his body quickly radiated to yours. When he placed his hand on your knee, flames of passion ignited in your core.

“I thought we'd start the celebrations early.” Comte reached for the bottle of champagne that was chilling in a bucket of ice on the seats across you. He opened the bottle with a loud pop, causing you to giggle as the champagne bubbled from the top of the bottle. Comte quickly filled two glasses, and handed one to you.

“Bonne année, ma chérie,” he whispered. 

“Happy New Year,” you whispered back as you clicked glasses. The champagne was light and sweet on your tongue. However, the cool liquid trickling down your throat did nothing to cool off your body.

By the time your glasses were drained, you had arrived at your destination.

“We're a bit early,” Comte commented as he took a peek outside. After shutting the curtains closed, he leaned his face dangerously close to yours, his large hand slowly sliding up your thigh.

He dipped his face a little closer, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing kiss. He pulled away, only a millimeter or two away – just enough to tempt you to lean in and kiss him. 

“I think we have a few minutes to kill before we have to go in.”

Tagging: @redheadkittys @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @ikehoe @kpop-and-otome @lucyw260 @queengiuliettafirstlady @kisara-16 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira @crypticbibliophile @yarnnerdally @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @wendolrea @randonauticrap @judejazza @maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu @nightghoul381

[aethon-recs]

Hi I wanted to know if you know any tomarry fanfics were Tom is the professor. I don't care if it's time travel or anything like that I just want to see some professor Tom because I can't find any.

Also your blog help me so much thank you for that!

Have a good day/night

Oohh, this is a fun one! Thanks for the ask!

I love the Professor Riddle trope. I might be biased, but I think Tom Riddle would have made for the best Defense professor that Harry could have had 😉

See below for some favorite Tomarrymort fics of this trope, arranged by alphabetical order:

*

Professor Riddle Fic Recs

Cam for the Money, Stayed for the Fun by @itsevanffs (E, 7k, complete)

Harry is a camboy. Professor Riddle is secretly his biggest patron.

Everything Green Is Gold by @cindle-writes (E, 24k, WIP)

Prior to Hogwarts, Harry had stayed mostly invisible to the teachers and adults around him his whole life. But Tom Riddle, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, looked at Harry like he was something to be wanted.

Fault Lines by @vestiges-of-light (M, 151k, complete)

After the world believes that Voldemort has died on that Halloween night, Tom Riddle returns to Hogwarts to claim the Defense post at last. Hogwarts will be a sanctuary, while he waits to find out more about Harry Potter and the prophecy that connects them. But when Grindelwald is broken out of prison, perhaps the magical world needs Voldemort to be publicly resurrected after all.

Fidgeting Anxiety Prevention by MistyTheGhost (E, 1k, complete)

Harry feels nothing but dread about his upcoming NEWTS. Luckily, Professor Riddle offers some assistance.

For Auld Lang Syne by @vdoshu (T, 8k, complete)

When he finds himself disarmed and held at wandpoint in the middle of a snowstorm, Tom’s first thought is that he is an embarrassment to Defence professors the world over. His second thought is something along the lines of, “Oh no, not again."

gratuity by @being-luminous (E, 2k, complete)

In the middle of class, Professor Riddle uses a spell to magically manifest his cock into Harry's arse.

hook, line, and sinker by @purplemineralwater (M, 6k, WIP)

Harry asks Professor Riddle for help in killing Voldemort. Riddle is endlessly amused.

Muggle Studies is Economics in Disguise by May_May_0_0 (M, 12k, complete)

Dumbledore acquiesces when Tom Riddle asks for the defense post. Harry stumbles into this AU version of Hogwarts hoping to teach defense. But there is only teaching one spot available: Muggle Studies. Chaos ensues as Muggle Studies becomes everyone’s favorite class. Tom Riddle is enraged, concerned, and… turned on?

Professor by Day, Vigilante by Night by @duplicitywrites (T, 73k, complete)

Harry and Tom have been together since their fifth-year, proving once and for all that Slytherins and Gryffindors can actually get along. Fifteen years later, they are both professors at Hogwarts and more in love than ever. Harry plays Quidditch with the Weasleys on the weekends, and Tom is secretly a vigilante named Voldemort.

On Holiday by @neurowriter14 (E, 2k, complete)

Harry's thirsty over his DADA professor. Professor Riddle knows.

The Orphaned King by @silenceinwinter2019 (E, 134k, complete)

In an AU where Voldemort wins, Harry starts his seventh year. Two things told Harry it would be an interesting semester: first, the Dark Lord would visit Hogwarts; second, they had a new defense professor, who made Harry’s stomach squirm and called himself Marvolo Gaunt.

What Happens in Vegas by @dividawrites (E, 14k, complete)

Turns out, the role of the Slytherin Head of House is not just ruling over pre-teen idiots and deducting points from Gryffindors. Now Tom has to accompany the seventh-year students on their school trip to Las Vegas. It goes even worse than he could have imagined.

*

[aziraphales-library]

Hello,

First of all, I know that everyone says it but it's never enough : thank you mods for all of your hard work on this blog, you literally saved me several times from my life <3

Now for the ask, I know there are some tags about it but do you have any (more?) Fics in *alternate universe - human* that are about Crowley suffering as in he goes through something rough physically (and especially) mentally in his life pls (for reference, it would be in the style of "Slow Show" by mia_ugly where Crowley went through a rough patch and was addicted to cocaine/alcohol before the events of the fic and mainly has issues with how he sees himself)

Thank you ever so much again for your work and have nice day/night wherever you are <3

Hi and thank you! Here are some fics featuring Crowley dealing/having dealt with drug/alcohol addiction. Mind the tags, folks!...

For Auld Lang Syne by cherriepixie27 (E)

Crowley accepts an invitation to a small New Year’s party at his former best friend and almost-lover’s reconstructed bookshop. Aziraphale probably isn’t expecting him to respond, much less show up. Maybe this is finally their chance to get things right. A second chance, human AU with plenty of feelings and smut for our Ineffable Husbands.

I Want To Break Free by TakeItEezy (M)

Anthony Crowley, a drug addict, doesn’t like being put in a box, especially if that box included doctors and psychologists. However, Solomon Aziraphale makes him realize that this could be his chance to break free from the life he had before. But, will Aziraphale be stuck in his old life forever? Would he ever allow himself to get better?

Taking flight by Sani86 (T)

Aziraphale is a first-year fine arts student with an eye for beautiful people. Crowley is a professional ballet dancer with the most perfect body he'd ever seen. A story about art, self-expression and friendship through thick and thin.

That's Your First Mistake by jedjubeed (T)

When Crowley was younger, and he got lonely, he thought about all the atoms around him, and all the space between them. Did atoms get lonely? Must do. When Crowley got older, and he got lonely, he knew to pick up the telephone. Alternatively, a human AU which tells the story about how Aziraphale (Ezra Fell) and Crowley met, became friends, and fell in love.

Out of Suffering Into Love by Slow_Burn_Sally (E)

Aziraphale is a sexually repressed man who grew up in a religious household. Crowley is an artist with a sordid past. Both of them are afraid to love and be loved.

Car Trouble by summerofspock (E)

Aziraphale's car breaks down so he takes it to the first mechanic he can find. From there, his mundane life changes drastically as he finds himself befriending the man fixing his car.

- Mod D

[thethreebroomsticksfic]

Hello dearest patrons! The barkeeps at The Three Broomsticks are delighted to announce the return of Yule Bash (with a twist)! This year the fest will take a slightly different form - The Twelve Days of Yule Bash! ❄️🎄🥂 Join us in celebrating the 2023 holiday season with 12 days of fanworks inspired by the Christmassy, wintry prompts listed below. You can use one (or three, or ten) to write fanfics, create fanart, post moodboards… the sky’s the limit here! 

From December 11th through 22nd, we’ll reblog any works posted for The Twelve Days of Yule Bash. The rules are simple: 

Use at least one (1) of the prompts in your submission. You’re more than welcome to use multiple prompts in a single submission. 

Fanfic writers, we ask that your fics be a minimum of 300 words. No word limit for maximum word count. Note: fics must also be canon compliant as TTB is first and foremost a canon-compliant fanfic server.

Kindly only post your work between December 11th and 22nd. You do not need to submit them to our blog, however. Simply post them on your own blog and tag us! 

Tag @thethreebroomsticksfic if you’re posting on Tumblr. You can also submit to our AO3 collection here. 

If you have any questions about the fest, feel free to ask a question here, or message any of the mods! ( @hinnyfied @lanaturnergetup @solongdaisymayy @merlinsbudgiesmugglers @incalculablepower )

We look forward to seeing everyone’s work this festive season! 

🎄Prompts

Mountains

Frozen

Fireplace

Cinnamon

Evergreen

First snow

Northern lights

Durmstrang

Snowed In

Weasley jumper

Hot cocoa

Holiday party

Ice skating/rink 

Hogsmeade

Celestina Warbeck

Christmas crackers

Gingerbread

Tinsel

Christmas market

Mulled mead

Baubles

Mistletoe 

Secret Santa

Socks

Family Dinner

Nightmare before Christmas 

Blue Christmas

Auld Lang Syne

New Year’s Kiss

Fireworks

[whalefairyfandom12]

Sebinis Fic Exchange

Thank you to the lovely @trappezoider for the banner 💚

A Mirror, Darkly (explicit) by @whalefairyfandom12

“There’s an inscription. It’s backwards, but corrected it says: I show not your face but your heart's desire.” Ominis’ head tips to the side, something wistful falling across his features. “What do you see?” Sebastian wets his lips, tugging on his sleeve until they’re almost nose to nose. “I can’t tell you,” he says, voice lowering. “But I can show you.” 

Auld Lang Syne (explicit) by clockworksiren

In their final year at Hogwarts, the Yule Ball is fast approaching and Sebastian has yet to ask anyone to go with him. Ominis finds scratched out ideas for an invitation and presumes it’s for someone else. Tension brews until the boys learn that communication is key and they’re both idiots.

Ideological Gap (explicit, rape/non-con) by brightened

Sebastian knows exactly what he wants. Unfortunately, Ominis doesn’t want the same.

la camera dei segreti (teen) by @gargoylegrave

Ominis has a task for Sebastian—it’s too bad that task has to remain a secret.

mangiarti (explicit) by @gargoylegrave

Ominis has a special surprise for Sebastian. Sebastian doesn’t know how to react.

Ouroboros (explicit, violence, and rape/non-con) by @blatantblue

Sebastian owns five shirts — two black ones, a brown one, a white one, and one of an irrelevant colour, too worn out to even consider. Not one of them seems appropriate to wear to pay a visit to a long-lost friend at a brothel. Especially as a client.

So You'll Never Be Lonely (mature) by gimbal_animation

Sebastian Sallow was married twice.

Sugar for the Pill (general) by @silasbug

Ominis had always known that this day would come, but knowing it could not have prepared him for whom he was about to meet.

The Librarian (explicit) by @trappezoider

Sebastian thought that the last months of his education at Hogwarts would be peaceful and quiet, until the school decided to hire a new head librarian, Ominis Gaunt.

Winter Nights (general) by @turntechgoddesshead

Winter time is arguably the worst for Slytherins. What are they to do when the common room freezes over?

[mrsbsmooth]

2023 Fic Year in Review

Thanks for the tag @longbobmckenzie! 2022 was my second year posting for the fandom :)

In 2023, I...

Finished/wrote the following chaptered WIPs:

Finished Jaded! (That was this year?!)

Off Limits (Football AU)

Famous Last Words (1 or 2 chapters left!)

Auld Lang Syne (A choose-your-own-ending!)

Unhealthy (..... is also a fic I started!)

Untitled different Lewie football fic I'm 12k into

Wrote/completed the following oneshots:

Bruno and Miri Make a Porno (Bruno/MC)

Lady Grifferly's Lover (Noah/MC)

Where everything stands still (Ciaran/MC)

But not quite (Jake/MC)

Delicate (Angie/MC)

He Had to Know (Lucas/MC)

Four Seconds (Bobby/MC)

The colour that you are (Rocco/MC)

Everything else is enthusiasm (Tom/MC)

If you want one of us (Lewie/MC)

Six to go (Bobby, Lucas, Rocco, Henrik, Jake & Gary / MC)

Let me be your woman (Ozzy/MC)

Every minute (Lewie/MC)

Filthy (Hamish/Andy/Marshall/MC)

Dark Eyes Too Hot to Handle - (Wesley/MC)

Daydream Too Hot to Handle - (Antoine/MC)

Ready Too Hot to Handle - (Wesley/MC)

Butterly Too Hot to Handle - (Wesley/MC)

Baby, all I wanna do is coast Too Hot to Handle - (Santi/MC)

Whistle for the Choir (Seb/MC)

I could see this view a hundred times (Tim/MC)

Oh, Paw-lease (Andy/MC)

Measure Twice, Cut Once (Alex/MC)

Employee of the Month (Gary/MC)

To Forgive is Divine Heaven's Secret - (Lucifer/MC)

I just wanna love you, baby (Alex/MC)

Carry On (Roberto/MC)

All I want for Christmas is you (Tom/MC)

Reached the following milestones:

Hit one million words posted.

Hit 70,000 hits across all my fics on Ao3

Completed NaNoWriMo

Didn't die :)

Published 428,169 words in 2023 Wrote for 27 different LIs Wrote for three different fandoms Tagging: @ anyone who wants to join in!

Don't feel obligated! Let's just celebrate the things we've done this year!

Here's to hoping 2024 is another fantastic year!

[astrhae]

for auld lang syne we'll drink a cup of kindness yet

(fic by me, and art by the wonderfully kind and amazing @self-indulgentwriter)

[sleepclaus]

Jfc this Hilson fic has to be the fic of all time like the balance between slow burn sex and the years of piss poor communication between The Boys is too good I recommend the long and satisfying read

[discordantwords]

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @khorazir and @raina-at. Thanks so much for tagging me!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 47 (how is it that many?!) 29 for BBC Sherlock 18 for The X-Files

2. What's your total A03 word count? 897,533

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently only BBC Sherlock

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea

White Knight

Incidents with Dogs, Curious and Otherwise

Another Auld Lang Syne

The Dead Detective

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to! I'm not always the best at keeping up, especially lately as my schedule has been erratic and I can only steal a few minutes here and there for fandom activities. But even when I don't have a chance to reply, I do read and treasure each and every comment.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I guess maybe The Pillar upon which England Rests has the saddest ending of anything that I've ever written, but I don't really consider it a sad story. It's set immediately post Reichenbach, told mostly through flashbacks as Mrs Hudson shares the story of how she met Sherlock with John. Sherlock is still "dead" when the story comes to a close, and John and Mrs Hudson are both grieving, though we as the reader know their loss is temporary.

I have a few shorter fics with ambiguous endings that lean in the angsty direction:

Nothing Happened in Belarus deals with accidental time travel, with grief-stricken S4 Sherlock finding himself briefly in the care of S1 John. Alas, the reprieve is a short one, as neither Sherlock nor John become aware of what is happening in time to take advantage of the opportunity.

At the end of Leaves Sherlock and John have either triumphed over the hallucinogenic vines that have invaded 221B… or they haven't. (I have my own theory, but you are free to interpret the ending however you choose.)

In EXECUTE John inadvertently deletes Mary from existence. He gets his happy ending, but has to live with the uncomfortable knowledge of the choices he's made.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of my fics have happy or at least hopeful endings. I like leaving the boys in a good place. I guess it depends on the flavor of happy you're looking for. But I'd say that these are probably the happiest:

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea

Inscrutable to the Last

White Knight

Another Auld Lang Syne

Whirlwind

8. Do you get hate on fics? Thankfully, no. A few weird comments here and there, but nothing too bad. The vast majority of my interaction with others in the fandom has been absolutely wonderful.

9. Do you write smut? Most of my sex scenes stay in R rated territory. But I tend to roll with whatever the plot demands of me.

10. Do you write crossovers? I've done quite a few fusion fics, but not crossovers. Crossovers aren't usually my cup of tea.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Once, sort of, but I don't believe it was done maliciously and I don't wish to call attention to it.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! I'm always flattered by requests to translate my writing.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? A friend and I used to write together quite a bit in high school, but nothing that has made it out into the world.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship? Sherlock & John and Mulder & Scully.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Crime Writer is a Sherlock/Knight Rider fusion that ran out of steam a while back (although it was intended to be episodic and IMO doesn't feel too horribly unresolved where it ends, so don't let the unfinished nature of it put you off if you're inclined to read it).

I'm still optimistic about most of the WIPs in my WIP folder, heh. I guess we'll see what next year brings.

16. What are your writing strengths? I like to think I'm good at writing complicated people with complicated feelings that don't always resolve neatly.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I don't think my smut is particularly inspired. And I have a very hard time writing fluff or domestic situations without having some angst to drive the plot.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I personally wouldn't attempt it. I'm not fluent in any other languages and there's far too much nuance to leave in the hands of Google Translate. :)

19. First fandom you wrote for? X-Files! (Unless you count unrefined and unposted scribblings from my younger years, I definitely went through a phase where I was trying to fix the Terminator time loop in a way that allowed Sarah Connor and Kyle Reese to live happily ever after.)

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? Oh, this is always such a hard question to answer. The Pillar upon Which England Rests is the first fic I wrote for the Sherlock fandom, so it has a special place in my heart. I'm really proud of the cases and complex plot in Out There. (Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea is the one that seems to resonate with the most people. And White Knight is the fic I'd most like to see turned into an episode of the show. :D

I'll tag @thetimemoves @insistentbass @lololollywrites @arwamachine @naefelldaurk @clueless-mp4 @totallysilvergirl and anyone else who would like to play along!

[beefrobeefcal]

a Message from Beefro

Now that I've had a few days to lay low and recuperate after finishing work for the year, it's time to get this holiday business in order!

Here's what I have planned for the next two weeks:

Dave & Kitten: Don't Over Do It

Joel & his Darlin': Who Said Anything About Leftovers?

A very special The Catfish & The Mouse: Seriously? Now?

and introducing...

This is a two parter in conjunction with @beefros-sin-bin!

part one: Recommend that fic , baby!

Have a fic you wanna recommend bc it made you loose sense of all time & space?

Have a fic you wrote and you're hella proud of it?

Send it on over in an ask to @beefros-sin-bin with the tag: #rec-a-fic2023

part two: #friend-of-beefro fic recs

The second part is all beef, baby! I'm going to highlight & celebrate the writers who set me on the sinful path I found myself on in 2023. I'll be boosting five fics from each of my founding fathers (affectionate) and telling y'all the reason I love them so much.

For-auld-lang-syne-my-dear regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

taglist: @theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd  @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal

[franklyimissparis]

Some great 1970’s fix it fics: a toot and a snore by 15clubsaday

They also wrote a great 1967 fic called auld langs syne that’s is perfect because it’s about new years

They’re currently writing a fic about 1976 house husband years called Writig Letters

Also Bermuda and The Jumper and I can only speak my mind

love all of these fics dearly!!! we’re so lucky to have such great writers around here.

some of other 70s/80s fix-it recs for my fellow enthusiasts :)) (all of these are on ao3)

- the birthday party by merseydreams

- take a sad song and make it better by javelinbk

- having coffee by dornfelder

- going nowhere by inspiteallthedanger

[minisugakoobies]

New Year, New You | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: romance, angst, smut, age gap, non-Idol!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, drinking, making out, neck marking, mentions of cumming, multiple references to sex, reader is several years older than Jungkook, Jungkook is basically temptation itself, sorry this got angsty but reader has a lot on her mind

Word Count: 1.8K

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: New year, new you. Except here you are, minutes after midnight, already falling back into old habits. You just can't resist.

A/N: Thank you for sending in a request, anon! Once again, I failed to keep it to a drabble, but I hope you enjoy. 💕

Yes, it's July, and yes, I'm out here writing NYE fics. That's just how it goes sometimes.

A special thank you to @minttangerines for being my rock, the Yoongi to my Tae, and encouraging me to embrace the angst. I still don't know where it's coming from, but I guess it's here to stay. 💜

As always, I'd love to hear what you think! My inbox is open 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

"Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"

A cheer goes up from the living room. As you raise your champagne flute to your lips in celebration, you realize he's watching you again.

You knew this would happen. It's how it always goes at these events. Dark eyes inevitably finding yours across the room. Lips quirking, a half smirk, teasing you. Knowing you know what's on his mind. Because it's usually what's on yours.

Usually. But not tonight.

You take advantage of the crush of partygoers around you drunkenly butchering "Auld Lang Syne," and quickly disappear into the swaying crowd. The Jeons really outdid themselves tonight. It seems like half the town has gathered in their home to greet the new year.

Wandering into the kitchen, you spot your mother and Mrs. Jeon in deep conversation. Your mother sees you approaching and pulls you in for a big hug. "Happy New Year, darling!"

"Happy New Year," you mumble into her shoulder, and then it's Mrs. Jeon's turn to crush you close.

"We were just talking about our resolutions, dear," Mrs. Jeon informs you. "Do you have one?"

"I know what it should be," your mother interjects. "To give her wonderful mother her first grandbaby!"

The two women titter, the countless glasses of wine they've imbibed loosening their lips, and they begin to talk about you as if you're not there, lamenting how you just can't find the right man, how all your friends are happily married and popping out babies left and right while you just can't seem to catch up.

You just nod and smile. It's how it always goes at these events.

Mrs. Jeon picks up a magnum of wine to refill her goblet, gives it a shake, then tips it over. Empty. She shoots you a look. "Would you be a dear and bring us some more wine? There's another bottle of this vintage downstairs, back in - oh, you know where to look!"

You nod, already moving, opening the basement door, pretending you don't hear your mother whisper, "Don't worry, she can't find a man but she can find the wine!" to your retreating back.

Tucked into the far corner of the Jeons's basement is an impressive wine cellar, with hundreds of bottles displayed on shelves that stretch from floor to ceiling. Instead of grabbing a bottle and heading back to the kitchen, you linger, tracing your fingertips over the racks, lost in thought. 

“You’re missing the party, Noona.”

Of course he found you. You turn around. “Just taking a little break, Jungkook-ah.”

He strolls out of the shadows wearing his usual grin. The revelry of the night is evident in his mussed hair and flushed cheeks. His black shirt is slightly unbuttoned, tie long gone, sleeves rolled up. Tattoos dance down his right forearm, piercings glitter in his eyebrow and lip. 

He’s temptation itself. It’s how he always is at these events. 

“I saw you during the countdown. No midnight kiss?” He’s still moving towards you, hands tucked into his pockets, crowding you into the tall shelves. 

“Didn’t have anyone who wanted to.” 

Even though he’s several years younger, he has an inch or two on you, head tipping down to gaze into your eyes. It’s strange how he’s always been able to make you feel so small like this. Delicate. 

Needy.

“You know that’s not true,” he murmurs, thin fingers finding your hip, drawing circles there. His other hand tilts your chin. “All you ever have to do is ask.” 

“I’ll remember that,” you begin, but the rest of your sentence is lost to Jungkook’s lips. He kisses you gently, pressing you into the rack behind you. Cold glass bites your skin where your dress fails to cover you. 

His arms encircle your back, holding you tight. Your hands clutch at his broad chest, his wide shoulders, wrap themselves in his long hair, seeking purchase to steady you as the kiss deepens. When his hand slips down to your thigh, lifting it, opening you up to his straying fingers, you push him away. 

“Jungkook,” you whisper, chest heaving. “Stop. We can’t.” 

“Can’t what?” He drops his mouth to your ear, nuzzles the sensitive skin behind it. It’s your weak spot. A fact he knows all too well, as he shamelessly attempts to exploit it. 

“We can’t do this, with everyone upstairs…”

The smirk on his face electrifies you more than you’d like to admit. “Why not? That’s never stopped us before.” 

That was the old you. The one you left behind when the clock struck midnight. 

He’s moved on to your neck now, insistent nips urging you to reconsider. “Are you worried because they’re waiting for you? They’re already drunk. They won’t notice if you’re gone for ten minutes.” You moan as he sucks on a particularly sharp bite, and he rolls his hips into yours, letting you feel how hard he is. “I can make you come in five, though.” 

From anyone else, that would sound like a laughable brag. From him, it’s merely the truth. 

“No, that’s not it. It’s just that I’m starting over today.” You untangle yourself from his embrace and turn your back to him, scanning the collection behind you for the vintage his mother requested.

“Ah. New year, new you?”

“Something like that.”

“Too bad. I like old you.”

You locate the desired bottle and pull it from the shelf. “Yeah, well, say goodbye, because she’s gone now.” When you spin around again, there’s a familiar glint in his brown eyes. A spark waiting to ignite.

“That’s a shame. I was hoping she’d come home with me tonight.”

Old you definitely would have. 

“Sorry, Kook-ah. It’s time for a change.” 

You take a step forward, but he doesn’t move. Frowning, you nudge him with your elbow, but he won’t budge. You know better than to bother pushing his stubborn ass out of the way. He might not be hulking, but he’s very solidly built. “C’mon, Jungkook, let me by!” 

Instead, he pries the wine from your hands, gingerly placing it back on the rack. He cages you in, one hand on either side of your head as you peer up at him in shock. “Noona. I know why you’re doing this.”

He was always too perceptive for your liking. “You don’t know, Jungkook. You can’t. You’re still young.” He doesn’t have to worry about the things you do. Not yet. 

He winces slightly, but sets his mouth in a firm line. “I’m not that much younger than you.” 

“Six years - “ 

“Is nothing, a - a blip in the entirety of existence, Noona,” he declares emphatically. You don’t respond, your heart nearly beating out of your chest. The intense look on his face isn’t entirely new to you. You’ve spent many nights underneath him, watching that same expression as he brings you to the edge over and over. But you’ve never seen it in this light. 

It takes your breath away.

Jungkook shakes his head. “You always talk like there’s some giant gap between us. Not just age, but everything. Like we live in different worlds. But I understand more than you think. I know what everyone upstairs expects of you.” He sighs, eyes softening as he smiles sadly at you. “I just don’t know why that means things have to change.” 

Your hands flex at your sides, fingers curling into fists. “If you know what’s expected of me, then you should understand. I’m getting older, Jungkook. The pressure is on and it’s getting worse day by day. So I need to start over, as someone else. Because no one wants me as I am. As I’ve been.” 

Something flashes across Jungkook’s face, something dark that makes your pounding heart stutter, and as his left hand cups your cheek, you can’t look away. “You know that’s not true.”

“Kook-ah - “

“I know you don’t take me seriously. That’s why you’ve always treated this,” he gestures between you, “this thing we have as some sort of fling. And I’ve been okay with it. Because even if I only get to be with you for a night, at least I still get to be with you.” 

His words hang in the air as he pauses for breath. Gently, you press your palms to his chest. His heart is hammering just as fast as your own, the rhythm speaking just as loud as words. 

“Kook-ah, since I was little, I’ve known the path my life would take. Every milestone laid out in a perfect line, point to point. I can’t stray from the path for things like ‘want.’”

“Why not?” His question catches you off guard. 

“What?” 

“Why can’t you? It’s your life, Noona. You should be able to live it as you choose. And do whatever you want.” 

You scoff. “You make it sound so easy.” You dig into the soft silk of his shirt, twisting the fabric between your fingertips. 

“It could be. We could do it together.” He smiles as you look up at him in surprise. “We could just say fuck it and do what we want. Which for me, would be to be with you.” He peels your hand from his shirt. You stare at the way his inked fingers entwine with yours. “What do you want, Noona?” 

What you need is to think. But that’s not the question. 

There’s too much to consider. How can you possibly decide anything so important, anything potentially life-altering, while standing in a basement at a New Year’s Eve party? So you narrow it down. Right here, right now, with Jungkook’s hand in yours, his bright eyes shining as he waits for your answer, what do you want most? 

That’s easy.

Brushing your thumb across his cheek, you tell him, “What I want is for you to take me home.” 

His eyes widen for a second before he snaps into action, covering your body with his own as he kisses you fervently.  When he pulls away, he finally moves aside to let you pass. “You go first. Say your goodbyes. I’ll leave in a few minutes and meet you at your place.” 

Grabbing the wine again, you take a few steps, then stop. New year, new you. 

Maybe new you can have him for real. 

You hold out your hand. 

Jungkook glances from your hand to your face and back. Then he grins, strong fingers enveloping your own, and follows you up the stairs. There will be questions, and comments, and so much more to deal with tomorrow. But tonight, you don’t care. 

The warmth radiating from Jungkook as he squeezes your hand flows through you, driving all your fears away. 

It’s how it always goes.  

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

Taglist: @babycoffeefire; @parkdatjimin; @reliablemitten; @yuugehn; @ut-dixisti; @hesperantha; @seokjinger-ale; @bangtanintotheroom; ​​@taeshuworld; @nch327; @hannahbee12719ficrecs; @7minsuga96; @dvalitaes; @wonieclub; @thatlongspringnight; @miscelunaaa; @acquiescence804; @itsirisz; @velvetskize; @starbtslove; @ajw05; @bruisedscrewedandtattooed; @minesuga; @greezenini; @aznstoner; @jkkkkkay; @xuxibelle; @soeur-de-ame; @boraborabts; @signmybook; @bbl32; @codeinebelle; @here4btsfics; @itbtoblikethatsometimes; @kookprada; @addictedtohobi; @shatzkrinslinzki; @jaiuneamesolitaiire; @joonjulyagust-d

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