#willing reader

Under Construction, Do Not Enter

The Four C's

(yan!Batboys x Reader)

...of addiction are a set of characteristics that describe the core elements of substance use disorders, including compulsion, control, craving, and consequences.

Prologue - WIP

Alcohol and Disulfiram

(yan!Tim x yan!Reader x yan!Jason)

...when you encounter a fork in the road, do you choose one path or destroy what divides them to make your own?

Or

The Ouroboros of stalkers.

Headcannons - Reader POV

Prologue

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Coronary

(yandere!jason todd x pregnant!meta!reader)

...arteries are major blood vessels that supply blood to your heart. Now if you'd just let him be your source, he won't have to use the silver.

Prologue

Spoiler — Sooner or Later?

Part I

Part II

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Is an overprotective, delusional, kuudere yandere of a man

He would keep thinking about you, wondering why you stuck in his mind

Next time he sees you is when you're being chased out by a village of cookies, armed with weapons and torches

This allows him to do the mental gymnatistics of "he's being chased out for being different -> he's like the cakes -> I am helping making a better world for cakes -> I protect the cakes -> because he is like the cakes I need to protect him too -> protecting him means I love him -> if i am his protector that means he will love me back -> him loving me back means we can live happliy ever after with the cake hounds"

His loyal cake hounds now spy on you for him in return for more love and treats

Thinks you're like his cake hounds in a "the cake hounds/reader are cute beings who deserve the world but can't fight for themselves" way

He is full prepared for you to fight him on this front but you don't

The day he shows up ready to kidnap you to his place, he is surprised that you just pack your treasures into bags and go with him

Your habits of giving him small treasures is something he likes but he doesn't like you being out of sight from him

When he's off doing his tasks you are guarded by a small army of cake hounds

Enjoys your willingness after a long while

Doesn't know that this kind of behavior is normal for you to get from other dragons

Only lets you treasure hunt when he's with you

Gets you your own cake hound friend

Your calmness about the situation fuels his delusions

‘Such a cute cat, I hope they have a home. I don’t think many people live over here, though. I’ve been on the trail for a decent thirty minutes. Maybe the guy needs a home, and the cat distribution center chose me?’ 

“Kitty, Kitty, come here.” You say lowering to their level and reaching your hand out. The cat immediately makes eye contact and increases their speed towards you. They look at you some more and raise their nose in the air to smell you. They must like you because before you know it, they are butting their head against your hand, purring loudly. 

“Aw, poor guy, I hope you have a home. I don’t know if I can take you in. You look healthy if you are a stray. Maybe you lost your home?”

You sympathize with the cat. Petting the cat some more, you are unsure what to do. They are friendly, so they must have had a home before, but do they now? You pull out your phone to take a couple of photos so that you can post them to lost pet groups later. 

“Kitty, do you have a home? Where’s home?” You ask it. The cat seems to understand what you are asking of it. They turn and walk in the direction that they came from, only to stop a few feet away and look at you. 

‘Maybe it wants me to see something. Does it have other friends? Maybe they have babies or a friend is hurt. I hope they are just going home, but I should follow just in case.’ Following the cat, they continue walking along the path and stop to make sure that you are following. 

A few minutes into the journey, the cat takes a turn off the path into the wooded section. You worry about the cat, wondering if they will be safe in the woods. Cautiously walking where the cat cut into the woods, you see the cat is still looking at you, waiting for you to follow. You guess this is a sign for you to follow the cat, so you continue following. 

The woods don’t seem creepy; they have mushrooms here and there growing off of decaying wood. There is some wildlife here and there, but nothing dangerous. However, with the trees limiting the sun’s rays and the sun going down, it’s starting to get difficult to see. You try talking to the cat again, hoping that it will understand you, but it acts like they still want you to follow them. At this point, you are so far in the woods that your phone is having a difficult time getting a signal, and you are unsure if you know the way back. Maybe their parents live somewhere with a signal, then you can get a way home. 

Luckily, looking ahead, the cat has led you to a clearing. Walking out of the wooded area and looking around, you realize you are in a meadow. It has flowers everywhere, some trees here and there, and a cottage. It’s hard to see because of the lighting, so it’s difficult to say if it’s currently being lived in. Regardless, you still have no signal, and it’s going to be even harder to navigate the woods with no light. Maybe if it’s abandoned, you can have shelter for the night. 

Walking through the meadow, still following the cat, you realize that it’s started leading you on a dirt path now. They are led all over the meadow, branching out like spiderwebs. They have been maintained for a long time, based on the absence of plant growth. 

‘So I guess that this cat does live with a human. Hopefully, this human is understanding about me showing up with so little light left.’

Looking towards the cottage again, you can see some more details. There’s some type of garden on the side of it, a soft glow of lights inside the garden, and a person walking in front of the cottage. They are looking around at the tall grass, the garden, and around the other side of the house.

The cat you have been following speeds up and starts meowing at the stranger. The meowing grabs their attention, and they hurry towards the cat. You aren't too close to the cat, just far enough that they don't notice you yet. 

“Selene, you know you aren't supposed to be out late. It's dark now. Where have you been?” She says, picking up Selene and holding them against their larger body. The cat turns in the stranger's grip and looks at you, causing them to look at you. 

“What do we have here, Selene? What did you bring to Mama?” 

“I’m sorry. I was following your cat because I didn’t know if they needed help. They kept acting like they wanted me to follow. Sorry to intrude, I didn't think they were leading me to your home.” 

“Oh dearie, you are fine! Come on in, it's getting dark, and we don't want to meet the creatures of the night.” She says, turning towards the cottage, inviting you in. 

“Sorry again, I guess I didn't realize that it was this dark. I was just on the trail, and that's where I met Selene. Do you have any Wi-Fi or a phone I can use to call anyone?” You walk through the doorway, and now you are able to truly see what this stranger looks like. She has brown hair, kind gray eyes, and is covered in jewelry. The lighting is soft and warm, with candles and the occasional oil lamp here and there. There are herbs in the kitchen hanging, crystals in every nook and cranny, and a book on almost every surface. 

“No need to apologize, it was meant to be after all. Selene thought we were supposed to meet. I don't have a phone or Wi-Fi. There's no reason for them. You can stay with us. I think it might even storm tonight. So it's better to be inside. Wouldn't want you to catch a cold!” She says acting like everything is not a big deal. 

“Go ahead and sit on the couch, I'll brew you some tea.” 

You sit down and examine the place a little more. There's a fireplace with a mantel pointing at the couch. The crystals on the mantle are chunky and thick. Some of them are white and others are purple. You guess they are clear quartz and amethyst, but you can't say for sure.

All of the books on the coffee table look so magical. Most of the books have leather covers, pages covered with black cursive writing, and some pictures. You try not to look too hard. You don't want to make the stranger upset. 

‘I should probably thank them, but I never got their name. I probably should ask before it gets too late.’ 

“I'm sorry, I don't think I ever got your name. I wanted to thank you properly.” You say, turning your head over your shoulder and looking towards the kitchen. 

“Sorry, honey, I got a little hyper! My name's Penelope! No need to thank me, we were meant to cross paths after all.” She says with two mugs, handing you one. 

“You think we were meant to cross paths?” 

“Yes, Selene doesn't bring me much, but I truly think she thought we belonged together. She doesn't just bring me anything. Only special things.” 

‘Belong together? Maybe she means we would make a great pair together? She must be spiritual. The crystals and herbs would explain that.’ 

You take a sip of the tea. It tastes like a calm wind-down tea. It helps calm down your nerves and gives you confidence to speak. 

“So you think that Selene brought me here to meet you? 

“Not just to meet me, you are gonna stay here now.” She says, sipping her tea as well. 

“Stay here?” You question her. 

“Yes, after all, I've always wanted a family. You are a part of my family now. It's just me, you, and Selene. Mama has to have kids to look after, of course. That's why you'll stay here from now on.” 

“I-I couldn't do that to you. I'll leave in the morning. You don't need me around here.” You say. You want to change the conversation because you don't want to be a burden on her. 

“No, no, no. You are welcome to stay here. We want you to stay with us. Come, follow.” She insists. She gets up and heads over towards a door by the fireplace. She opens the door and starts lighting some of the candles around the room. As the room slowly lights up, the room is revealed to you. In the corner, there's a bed with a couple of stuffed animals sitting on it, just waiting to be cuddled. A toy chest sits at the end of the bed. The shelves on the other side of the room have a bunch of books, smaller than the ones you've seen in the living room. There's a small table with coloring supplies and coloring books on it. Lastly, a rocking chair and dresser in the corner of the room, by the bookshelves. 

“This is all for you. I designed the room a while ago. We can change it however you want. But you have to have the crystals I have put in here. They will help keep a calm and positive environment, perfect just for you.” She tells you. Looking around the room again, you see a couple of the crystals. Some are on the nightstand by the bed, and others are on the shelves. 

‘She has all this thought out. There's everything that a child would need in here. The room does have a good energy about it. Maybe it is the crystals doing that.’ 

“It's pretty nice here. But, I can't stay here, I'm an adult.” You say shyly. 

“Nonsense, you can still have a childlike mentality. You obviously like it here. Stay with us, let me take care of you. Let me be your mama.” 

‘It sounds great to have the opportunity to wind down and not be an adult anymore. I'm just not too ready for that yet. Why does she want to act like my “mama”?’

She watches you think, watching your confusion and how it bothers you. As it starts to overwhelm you, she goes over towards the dresser and pulls out a set of clothes. She holds them out to you, showing you that it's pajamas that are grey with little stars all over them. 

“Here, take these. You should have a change of clothes before you go to sleep. They should fit you. I'll have to go out and get more clothes in your size, but that should do for now. Come into the living room when you are done.” 

You take the clothes and she takes off into the living room, shutting the door. You change into the clothes, but these clothes don't have pockets. You don't know where to put your phone. Should you leave it with your clothes? Maybe leave it in here for now? You decide that the latter is the best decision for now. You fold your old clothes, putting them on top of the dresser, and go into the living room. 

Looking in the living room, you don't see her. Turning and looking in the kitchen, near the dining table, you see her feeding Selene. 

“I'm out now. Thanks for the clothes, they are pretty soft and comfortable.”

You watch her wrap up feeding Selene and pull out some cookies from a jar. They look like sugar cookies. She hands you one, and she gets one herself. 

“No problem, honey. Have a quick snack before we go to bed. You shouldn't be up this late anyway. You'll be sleeping in your room, of course, but I thought I'd show you my room, just in case." She leads you towards the living room again, but stops before the bookshelves. She opens the door and reveals her room. 

There are candles and crystals everywhere, just like everywhere else in the cottage. She has her bed centered in the room with end tables on either side. On the wall that your room shared with hers, there's more storage. It looks like she keeps a lot of herbs and jars in that area. 

“So I guess you are a witch?” You ask, chewing on your cookie. 

“Yeah, I am. Don't worry, nothing will happen to you. I mainly practice for protection and positivity. One day, maybe you can practice with me if you would like.” 

‘She’s still planning on having me here for a while. Yet she barely knows me, I could be a serial killer.’ 

“But that's for another day. Let's get you to bed.” She says, taking your hand and walking out into the living room, going around the bookshelves and into yours. She drops you off at the bed and tucks you into bed. She walks around the room, snuffing out the candles. The light from the windows produces just enough light to show you where the furniture is. 

“We’ll talk some more in the morning, just get some rest for now. It seems like it will storm tonight. If you need Mama, you can come into my room. Good night and sweet dreams, sweetie.” She says, closing the door after her. 

‘She really must want to be a mom, she is very motherly. She’s so kind to me, and she doesn’t even know me. I guess that would be true motherly instincts. It is tempting to just stay here and not have a worry about anything else. Though it seems like I will have to live without technology. She doesn’t support it at all. I wonder what she’ll do if she sees my phone.’

You pull out your phone from its hiding spot, and it luckily has some battery left. Unfortunately, there’s still no signal. You hear thunder in the distance and the soft pitter of rain hitting the windows. 

‘What do I do? Should I keep my phone hidden? I feel like I want to stay, but I barely know her. She barely knows me, too. What if I make the mistake of staying, and I can’t leave? There’s nothing I can do about it now, I’ll wait till the morning to make a decision.’ 

Putting your phone back in its hiding spot, you get comfortable, and the long day starts catching up to you. Closing your eyes, your thoughts start to settle down as you hear more thunder in the distance. 

Opening your eyes and looking around the room, you are confused when you don’t see your bedroom. Confusion hits your brain harder, and it takes you a minute to realize where you are. You are in the cottage that the cat led you to. You stayed the night because the motherly stranger insisted you stay. However, they didn’t want you to just stay the night. They want you to live together. 

Getting up and stretching, you feel like you got the best sleep you’ve had in a while. Looking around the room some more, you see that your old clothes have gone missing. That means that she came into the room while you were sleeping. Analyzing the room, looking for any more changes, you see a note on the nightstand. Picking up the note, you see the same cursive writing that you saw last night. 

‘Good morning, dear, I hope you had a good night's rest. I took your old clothes out to get them washed. They should be done by the end of the day if the weather clears more. I let you sleep in. You looked so cozy sleeping, plus you had a long day yesterday. I will probably be in the garden by the time you wake up. Please let me know when you are awake. Love, Mama.’

You put the paper back and wander around the room, thinking about the situation. Looking at the desk, you feel an urge to color while you think about the possibilities of the future. Sitting in the chair, you flip through the coloring books and find a good page to color. You are quick to find one and start getting to work, filling the page in with your first color.

‘Right, I have to decide to stay or leave. Penelope will probably be upset if she knows I want to leave a little. It feels strange to call her Penelope. It suits her, but it's not right.’

 You feel like it gives a bad taste in your mouth, makes you feel icky. Continuing your coloring, you pick out a new color. 

‘Maybe there is something to how we are supposed to meet. She is very nice and has made me feel more than welcome to stay. And I can't help but want to stay. I may not know what is to come in the future, but it can't be anything bad. She would have done something before if she had bad intentions. Mama isn't-’

You pause your coloring and stare at the page. There it is, you called her that, and there's no taking it back. 

‘It feels better to call her that. I just can't believe I have called her that.’

You continue the coloring, not taking into account what you were just thinking about. Your mind simply focuses on the coloring like it's the most captivating thing. You pick another color for the coloring. The page is almost full of colors, but you continue till you finish the page. 

Looking at the page, you see some mistakes. You want to correct them, but before you can even pick up a color, you hear a soft knock at the door. Turning to look at the door, you see it opening.

“Hey sweetie, did you see the note I left for you?”

“Oh, sorry, yeah, I was just coloring a little. I…I just looked over here after reading it and got distracted.” You apologize, feeling shy that you ignored the letter and started coloring instead. 

“It's okay! I was just checking to see if you were doing okay. May I see it?” She asks, getting down it your level at the desk. 

“Ummm, sure.”

You watch her look at it, wishing that you could have made it look a little nicer. 

“Oh, honey, I love what you've done! Can Mama put it on the fridge?”

“Sure, can I help? I wanna pick out the spot.” You say excited, but try not to show it.

“Yeah, let's go. I might have some magnets that will match it.”

The two of you walk into the kitchen, to the fridge. You pick out where you want it and place it in its resting spot. 

“Okay, it's food time for you. What would you like Mama to make you? We have stuff for waffles, pancakes, and French toast. Or you can have some of the muffins I baked this morning.”

Feeling small because of being taken care of and having your coloring put up, you have a hard time making a choice. You take a moment to decide, thinking hard about what you would like. 

“Mama, can I have the waffles?” You whisper, feeling nervous. 

“Yes, honey! I'll get started right now.” She says excitedly.

“But first, let's get you set up in the living room, so you have something to do while I make it for you. Would you like to color?”

It began small when you were just young enough to notice that pretty people were treated differently.

At first it didn't bother you, you would hit puberty, you would get that magical glow up sometime soon.

But those hopes grew dimmer with each passing day. Sure you changed but it was basically for the worse. Now you looked and felt awkward in your own body.

People you were interested in laughed around your friends freely and only gave a hesitant pitying chuckle or hum when you spoke. Right before going back to your friends without another glance as you would stare at the floor and worry if you said something bad or if you just looked bad.

But your friends had completely different genes then you. Surely it could just be an ethnicity preference right?

Nope, you were proven wrong when family members your age with similar enough skin tone or eye shape or lip shape or anything else you had who had no problem attracting people.

‘You shouldn't judge a book by its cover.’ 

‘The right person will like you for you and not your looks.’

Sayings that you took to heart to console yourself but it was like poison to your brain and heart.

The thoughts mutated from picking at your body to your personality too. Yet you still tried to be presentable in some way.

Scrubbing your body every shower till the skin was raw red. As many products you could get a hold on to treat the stubborn acne that just wouldn't go away. Plucking any out of place hairs on your face and shaving anything that could cause people to even think of you as hairy.

The only thing you didn't touch was the makeup that was tempting yet scary to you.

You heard everyone talk about it. Other girls bragging about how they snagged a hot guy with the right makeup. Only for the guys to whisper their disgust at their bare face.

Girls complaining about the increased acne and costs of make up. Guys praising about how ‘natural’ their girlfriends were when you could see the layers they had on, clearly unable to tell the difference.

Pros and cons were thrown all around but whenever you asked if make up was good or not, you recieved the same damn answer.

‘The right guy will like you for you. With or without makeup.’

You weren't oblivious to how neither told you that you were beautiful just the way you were.

The only ones who did were the sought after attractive women who only said it to console you in some way.

In the end you waited too long. By the time you got the courage to seriously try, you were out of high-school and too deeply involved in life to have time to struggle and fail.

It only ate away at your conscious but the fear of being ridiculed and laughed at for wearing bad makeup that made you even uglier then you already were was enough to stress you to tears.

What could you do but give up?

Maybe you were better off this way. 

Alone you weren't going to be hurt in a relationship. 

Alone you couldn't cry over your nonexistent boyfriend's insults when you fight.

Alone you would never be validated in your sinking thoughts of what a failure of person you were.

That's probably why you could never feel validated in whether you were attractive as you matured. The self loathing thoughts and feelings grew but you kept it locked away. 

Mirrors were scarcely seen and photos were always refused or just ignored. It was like the insults were written on your face for all to laugh at.

So why the hell were you the one targeted by some random guy in your college to be stalked?

This wasn't the first time you've seen him but this was definitely the closest he's ever come to you as you sit in a library just a table away from him.

His eyes were still on you as you stared nervously at your computer screen. You haven't been able to type a single word since you noticed his presence.

Subtly you looked up and scanned the room just to take another peek at him.

Yup, he was attractive as hell. Way out of your league.

Handsome, fit, and tall. He's got it all yet he's watching you with a smile that borders between sexy and hungry.

He's got the serial killer vibe down to the art cause that's the only fucking reason he could be stalking you for the past few weeks. 

It was around a month ago that you actually noticed him. Simply brushing off his glances as something he was directing to your friends.

After you left to the bathroom and came back you locked eyes with him. He kept that stare up even as you blushed and looked away.

It didn't even occur to you that he thought you were attractive, you just thought that you had food staining your lips.

Sitting back with your friends, you couldn't push down the feeling of being the ugly duckling as you all laughed at a joke yet yours was like nails on a chalkboard.

Loud, out of tune and unwanted.

It took a week for you to note the footsteps behind you whenever you walked back to your car after late night classes.

When you noticed that it was him again, you brushed it off thinking that he just had late classes.

His stares were probably just ones of worry since it was nearing midnight and you were walking alone. You had heard about him before, a kind man that was as charming as he was sweet.

An ideal man that you wouldn't suspect. Which only made the serial killer suspicion much stronger when you overheard him denying having classes on the days of your late night classes.

But even then it would be crazy to assume he's stalking you. At least until you saw his car parked just a block away from your house when you were positive he lived in a different city.

It was the weekend for crying out loud! There was no way in hell that he could be near your house every weekend.

But maybe he had family or friends or anything else attractive popular people had going on.

Besides if he was just normal and interested romantically, he would be chatting up your friends. If he was a serial killer then he would still be targeting your friends. You've never heard of a serial killer who only targeted ugly people. 

You'd rather be a surprise suicide then be known as a victim of a serial killer who's MO was ugly people. Even you had a limit.

But the anxiety over the situation was killing you. As a last ditch effort last week you decided to test something out.

Yesterday you loudly told your friends that you planned on doing some vigorous self studying tomorrow for the upcoming exam at the library. You knew that none of them would be able to make it due to their various personal responsibilities but that was the point.

And you were fucking right as he keeps his eyes on you when you knew he didn't have any classes today. And it's not like he's studying with his bag still on the chair and his lips sucking on the straw in the drink he had in his hands.

So what if you eyed the way his Adam's apple bobbed with each gulp?

He's probably planning on using this opportunity to kill you since you're all alone. Might as well let your eyes feast on something good before your death.

Holding back your anxiety over how he'll slaughter you, you heard another student walk up to him and clap his shoulder.

“What's good man? Didn't expect to see you here today. Thought you told me that your next class wasn't till Monday?”

Fucking called it!

But before you could celebrate your minor and frankly bad news considering that you've been confirmed to have a serial killer on your trail, you heard your stalker respond.

“Nothing much, just came here to study while we still have time before the midterms.” He chuckled and you could only bite your lips in jealousy.

Damn him for having such a nice voice. It was smooth and rich, the kind of voice you knew would make anyone melt at the sound.

An all around 10/10 and you wished that you could take even half a point from him.

It was too much, the revelation that you're going to be murdered soon paired with having to hear your soon to be murderer having got the greatest luck in life to be attractive was too distracting.

Packing up quickly you tried to leave without being noticed as you caught the end of the conversation.

“You should come to my place for the weekend. I've invited a few hot chicks and-”

“Sorry, I've already got plans for the this weekend. I'll be real busy till the exam and maybe even then for a while. I'll catch you later though.”

Walking out the library you made a beeline for the campus exit when you heard the heavy footsteps of him close by. 

Damn it, you should have just stayed inside.

The streets weren't very crowded as a festival was being held on the other side of the city for some holiday you didn't care to remember.

Therefore it quickly became just you and him on the walk to the garage. The tight grip you had on your bag loosened as you tried to rationalize everything. 

Maybe he wasn't a serial killer and you were just paranoid. Everything could just be a coincidence that you're blowing out of proportion.

Getting to your car you fumbled with your keys as the sweat of your palms made it hard to sort through. 

Maybe you weren't fucked is what you would think if a large hand wasn't pressed against the rim of your beat up car from behind you as hot air ghosted your neck.

“Sorry if I startled you, you're Y/n right? One of your friends was talking to me about you.”

Stiff as a board you turned around and all the blood drained from your face at the way he towered over you.

Only for it to come rushing back and burn your cheeks as he leaned down. Pretty eyes stared into yours as his soft yet slightly curled hair framed his face.

His lips pulled into a smile as you leaned away till your back was touching your car as he asked. “Sorry if this is a bit sudden but I needed some help with one of my classes and she said that you aced it last semester.”

“Do you mind coming over to my place tomorrow to help me with it?”

You were so fucked.

This right here is mostly for myself but also for all my fellow insecure girlies who can't get behind certain portrayals of fem readers.

I recently read one that gave such a detailed description of a fem readers body who didn't tag it correctly and felt like shit after reading.

This isn't going to be serious, it's comedic mostly and pretty much self indulgent as warned above. It's also an outlet for me to finally get those stupid thoughts out of my head.

“Wow,” you mutter to yourself. “They really said ‘sobriety or death’ this year. God forbid you put out a little vodka or tequila to make this shit more enjoyable…”

You’ve learned how to fake your way through these Christmas parties ages ago. You smile when someone glances your way, because that’s what “tEaM PlAyErS dO” according to your boss. You nod through shitty small talk. ‘Oh wow, you had another kid? What’s that, like you’re 6th one? Way to go, Nick Cannon.’ You laugh at jokes that died in 2012. If you had to stand there and watch another grown man pull out his phone and show you a Dat Boi meme, you were gonna go postal. You check the time on your phone for the seventeenth time and decide you can survive exactly one more hour of this before you fake an illness and vanish like a Christmas miracle.

You lift your cup and try not to gag when someone bumps into you from behind. You steady yourself quickly as the drink sloshes close to the rim. Damn. You were so close to getting out of here if you got some of the drink on you. Back to square one.

“Whoa—shit, I’m so sorry!” a deep voice apologized from behind you.

You turn, already prepared to smile and brush it off, when you see him. You’ve never seen him around the office. He’s way too cute to be an employee of this hellhole. Like he actually has his life together. Clear skin, no wrinkles, manners. Soft eyes that showed he was… what’s the word? Human? He definitely didn’t work in HR. Messy dark hair like he ran his hands through it one too many times. Which means he didn’t work in IT either. Those people down there were balding like they were 50 years olds in mid-20s bodies. A soft smile that looks both shy and thrilled to be talking to you. Okay, that clearly proves it. He definitely didn’t work here. Maybe a friend or boyfriend of one of your coworkers. He’s wearing a festive sweater that looks… handmade? There’s a crooked stitched heart with a santa hat on it.

His personality didn’t match the boring and sterile environment of your workplace. He kinda reminds you of how new hires act during their first week. Then, it’s all downhill. It’s kind of like when you spend hours upon hours building a Lego Deathstar only to have your 4 year old nephew throw it on the floor in front of you with a smile. And then he asks you to build it again.

You blink up at him, stunned for a moment. Uh, yeah. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Your face relaxes back into stone since now you don’t have to worry about him working here.

He quickly glances you over, leaning over you from all angles like he was looking for something. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“I didn’t spill anything on you, did I?” he asks worriedly. He holds his hands out in front like he wants to touch you, but seems hesitant like he’s massaging the air.

You look down and see your office mandated business professional christmas outfit clean and pristine. Dammit. “Nope. Unfortunately.”

He tilts his head. “I’m sorry?”

You meant to say the second part in your head. “I just meant that if my clothes got ruined I could’ve used that as an excuse to leave. Curse my steady hand…” You glare down at your hand holding the cranberry juice. This hand has saved multiple drinks in your life: cocktails, daiquiris, wine, flaming shots. But now, it feels like all your training and hard work to keep a steady hand on your drunkest nights has betrayed you in the end.

You’re brought out of your thoughts when you hear a deep laugh beside you. You can’t help but stare at his laughing face. He’s covering his mouth to stifle himself, but it’s clearly not working as you see his broad shoulders shake and his melodic chuckles seem to dampen your surroundings.

“You don’t work here, do you?” you ask.

He stops laughing and stares down at you with a gentle smile. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re normal.”

“Huh?”

“You’re just like, annoyingly handsome. Like, unbearably attractive. Your smile is gorgeous, your hair is shiny, and your skin is immaculate.”

A bright red blush fleshed his cheeks making him even more adorable. “Thank you?”

“That was a compliment in case you were unaware.”

“I think I got that, but it didn’t really answer my question.”

“You’re wayyyy too attractive to be working here.”

The man raised his eyebrow in a cheeky manner like he didn’t believe you. “Well,… if that’s true…” he leaned in close to you, whispering, “Then why are you working here?”

Damn. He got you with that. Handsome and charismatic. How evil.

“The cost of living crisis has made me forgo my beauty so that I can eat and sleep under a roof.” you mutter, a bit embarrassed by the compliment.

“Hmm… I don’t think that’s true. Your beauty is the only thing that stands out in this room. And truthfully…” he glanced side-to-side and whispered closely causing you to blush even more. “I kinda bumped into you on purpose just to talk to you.”

You looked up at him in disbelief before laughing. He joined your laughter which caused a few curious glances from your co-workers.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’m glad you did. This interaction is the most fun I get out of these things.” you breathe out, leaning against the snack table.

“Glad to be of service. But, if you hate it here, why do you show up every year?”

You grimaced and shot a glare at your boss, boasting and laughing loudly with the rookies. “Because of that.”

He followed your eyeline and raised an eyebrow. “That? You mean that man?”

“Ugh, yes. He’s like… a Karen and a toxic girlfriend times a million. His father founded this company and when he retired he gave it to his son. Fuckin’ nepobaby. Anyone who doesn’t show up to these parties or “team activities” is labeled a “detrimental non-player” and is given overtime for like 6 weeks straight, even if in the lightest season.”

“Really?” he grumbled.

“Yeah, and then you’re forced to listen to this Gaslighting 101 TEDtalk from him and HR about what it means to “show up for your team” and “engage in company activities” for like 2 hours which doesn’t count as work so it’s taken out of your paycheck.”

“Then… why do you keep working here?”

You shot him a knowing look and after a while he finally understood. “Oh yeah. Cost of living.”

You sigh with a smile and bumped him gently with your arm. “So! You heard my trauma. Why’re you here? You come with somebody or just get a kick out of crashing boring parties?”

He chuckled and rubbed his neck. “I guess I came here with someone.”

“Oh, really? Like a friend or are you gonna break my heart and say you're married.”

He laughed again. “We’re definitely not friends, but we’re not exactly married either.” He looked over at you, staring into your eyes. “But, one day, I plan to make them mine. And never, ever let them leave me.”

You let out an overdramatic groan and feign heartbreak, placing your hand over your heart. “Ugh, you’re breaking my heart…! Handsome and taken? Is there no justice for poor little ol’ me?” You pretend to wipe a tear from your eye as the man laughs at your spectacular acting.

He glances at the drink station across the room. “Can I get you a drink?”

You hold back a gag and grimace your barely sipped drink. “Ugh, no thanks. I think I’ve got enough cranberry juice to last me until next Christmas.”

“Oh, trust me. This drink will taste better.” he grinned.

You gasp softly and whisper. “Do you sneak in some alcohol?”

“Something like that.”

“Sold.” you say too quickly, but you were desperate at this point. Anything was better than being sober for another 45 minutes. Before he could leave, you quickly grab his arm, missing the blush on his face. “Oh! But before you go, be careful. Alcohol and other stimulants are forbidden. If someone catches you, they’ll know you don’t work here and the boss isn’t shy about calling his cop friends to storm this building.” you whisper.

He chuckled and threw you a wink. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll be extra careful.” Then he leaves in the direction of the drink station. You watch him mildly amused, mildly curious, but mostly just grateful something new is going to happen at these parties.

After a few minutes, he came back and handed the drink.

It looks the same. Cranberry juice.

Suspicious.

You sniff it. “What’s in it?”

He shrugged and grinned playfully. “It’s a surprise.” He looked like he was having fun.

You look at him. Then at the drink. You shrug and shoot it back like a shot. It tastes… weird? It definitely still tastes like cranberry juice, but there’s… something else. Not bad. Like your tongue and throat can’t quite keep up or decipher the taste. Kind of a bitter aftertaste.

“Huh.” you smack your lips. “It’s definitely not tequila or vodka.”

You look up at the man and see him gaping at you with a shocked look. You guess he didn’t expect you to down the entire 8 oz cup in 5 seconds. He’s definitely never seen you at Mary’s Bar on $1 shot night.

“But it doesn’t taste bad. And I can barely taste the cranberry. You got anymore?”

He stared at you in amazement before laughing. “Y/N L/N, you are seriously unbelievable.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” you shrug.

It takes you a minute before something hits you. You turn to face the laughing man.

“Did I tell you my name?” you ask, raising your eyebrow.

“Nope.” he answers quickly, putting his hand on his hip. “But, I knew it. It’s a cute name.”

“H-Huh?” You didn’t have time to brace yourself as you felt your shudder. The bad type of shudder. Like you were gonna pass out and throw up at the same time. You grabbed onto the table to stabilize yourself as your vision started to blur. You couldn’t feel your feet.

“Honestly, I didn’t expect you to down the entire cup like that. If I knew that, I would’ve put in less.”

“W-Wha…” you could barely speak. Your tongue felt like it was swelling up and you could feel drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. The nauseating feeling seemed to double as you felt your knees buckle. You felt like you were sinking into the floor. More like something was pulling you down.

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you to never take drinks from strangers?” His voice sounded muffled, like he was in another room.

The music that was obnoxiously loud before was also sounding muffled and like it was melting together, unable to discern words or melody. Every time you blinked, the fluorescent lights would blind you before going back to a hazy dark blur. Your limb felt heavy. Your body wasn’t listening to you. Every instinct to move was ignored. The only thing that didn’t feel heavy was your head. If you were to describe it in one word: floaty. Like a newborn, you didn’t have any strength to hold it up.

You blink again and find yourself in the arms of the man, his fingers tilting your chin to look up at him. Through the blur and haze, you see the look on his face–smiling softly, feigned worry, watching you very closely.

He drugged you.

“Don’t worry,” you hear him whisper. “I’ve got you.”

*****

You wake up with a pounding headache and ears ringing. You try to blink away the haze and assess your surroundings. The first thing you notice is that you can’t move your arms and legs. You look down and see that your hands and legs are bound together,… but not with tape or rope or even chains. They’re bound in red ribbons. You're bound from your ankles all the way up to your shoulders with a Christmas mega bow on your wrists. So… you can’t move. The second thing you notice is that your mouth is taped shut, but with yellow tape. From your angle it looks like a star. So… you can’t speak.

Your first thought: ‘I really need to stop taking drinks from cute guys.’

Your second thought: ‘Why does it smell like pine?’

You turn to your right and find the source.

You’re on the floor under a Christmas tree. A very nicely decorated Christmas tree. Like the kind that rich families post on their Instagram.

Whatever-his-name-is is definitely a… festive person.

As the ringing in your ears subsides, you hear music coming from behind you. You sluggishly crane your neck to look behind you and see a record player playing Christmas music.

An honest-to-god record player.

In 2025.

Not like the ones you get at Urban Outfitters either. Like an antique, passed down from generations, grandparents slow dancing in the living room record player.

And standing a few feet away from you, bathed in warm, flickering red-green-white Christmas lights, is the cute guy from the party. Singing along to the music.

“🎵 Santa Claus is comin’ to town… 🎵”

Oooh. The Jackson 5. Good taste.

He’s dancing like a child on Christmas day, excitable and light on his feet–

–aaaaand he’s covered in blood.

In this dimly lit room, your eyes track a smear across his cheek. Dark stains on his sweater. Red splashed along his hands.

You can’t help, but stare at the scene in front of you.

Just as the song ends he spins and locks eyes with you, his smile becoming bigger.

“Oh!” he breaths. He walked over to you. “You’re up!”

He kneels down next to you, his eyes shining from the glow of the Christmas lights on the tree.

“I was afraid that you wouldn’t wake up until New Years. That would be no good.” he said softly, booping your nose. “I wanted to play with my gift all day tomorrow, but you can’t exactly do that if the present doesn’t respond. That would be no fun.”

He smoothed your hair and cupped your cheek, leaving streaks of blood on you. Gross.

“Are you okay, sweetheart? Need anything? Water? A pillow? Cookies? It’s a little drafty down here so maybe some hot cocoa?”

Hold up.

Pause.

Rewind.

He’s got hot cocoa AND cookies?! You wonder if they have tiny marshmallows in them. Pfft! Of course he would put tiny marshmallows in it! What kind of self-respecting person with a soul wouldn’t put tiny marshmallows in hot cocoa?! He’s not a fucking animal.

“Phuu mfp mmpees?!”

The cute guy placed a finger over your taped mouth. “Shh shh shh… Quiet, darling. There’s no need to scream. You’re safe here.”

“Mmp mm mmsnt–” Your head is suddenly jostled as he grips your face roughly.

“I said quiet.” he growled, his face inches from yours.

You nod fervently, kind of liking this dommy attitude. Damn your personality. Finding weird shit hot.

He chuckled softly with a smile. “That’s my good baby. I always knew you were obedient.”

If he didn’t just tell you to be quiet, you’d be freaking out for a very different reason.

Cute guy buried his face into your neck, making you squirm as his breath and lips brushed against you. He held you tight as you squirmed against him.

“Be still.”

And still you were.

He sniffs you. Aggressively. Like he’s trying to bottle your scent into his nose.

“I’ve imagined this so many times. To think you’d willingly drink from that cup.” he laughs against your skin. “I didn’t think you’d be so naive. I’m glad you are. Because now… you’re here. I watched you every day—preparing for this very moment. The moment where you finally become mine.” He laughs breathlessly, raising his head to stare at you lovingly. “This was all I wanted for Christmas. Just you. Under my tree. Under me.”

You blink up at him. ‘What is bro yapping about?’

You lightly tap his arm to get his attention. He looks down at your hands and then at you. You point at your mouth.

“Ooh… you have something to say?” he grins slyly.

You nod, following his order of not speaking.

He hesitates, reading your face thinking it could be a trick. Then, he carefully presses a finger to the tape, smearing more blood on the tape. “If I take this off… you won’t scream or yell, right?”

You nod again, showing your pinky as some sort of promise which makes him smile.

He peels the tape off with painstaking care.

You breathe out a breath you didn’t notice you were holding, look him dead in the eyes, and say:

“What kind of cookies?”

Dead silence. Well, except for The Jackson 5 album playing in the background.

“Cookies…?”

“Yeah,” you say nonchalantly. “You mentioned cookies earlier. Is it chocolate chips or raisins? Or did you mean gingerbread man cookies? Because I’d eat either–well, except for raisin cookies. I don’t like those.”

A beat passes and then he laughs. That soft laugh from the party. You’re starting to click together why you took a drink from him.

“They are chocolate chip cookies, however, if you want some gingerbread men I’d gladly make them for you.”

“Sick!” you cheer, tapping your feet in excitement. “Can I have two?”

“For you?” he says, standing up. “You can have as many as you want.”

You rock back and forth on your bed. “Cool! Oh! And some of that hot cocoa you mentioned too!”

He smiled down at you, but you can see in his eyes that he was still wearily of you.

“Sure,” he replied to your orders. “But don’t move.”

You look down at your bound body. Then back at him. You threw him a look. “Where am I going?”

Soon, he returned with a plate of cookies and a steaming cup of hot cocoa making you tap your feet in excitement again. He kneels beside you again and tenderly raises a cookie to your lips. You take note of his clean hands, face, and changed sweater.

“Say ‘aaahhh’.” he grins.

As embarrassing as it was, you swallowed your pride and took a bite of the cookie. Your eyes widen at the taste and chocolatey goodness warming your tongue and greedily take another bite.

“Oh my god!” you shout, mouth full. “This is fucking bomb! It’s so soft and gooey!”

He laughs as you finish the cookie. “I’m glad you like it. It took me forever to get them exactly how you like them.” He then raises the hot cocoa to your lips.

You take a sip without hesitation and your whole body shudders. The good kind of shudder.

“Oh my god…” you gasp. “This is… I can’t… words…”

This wasn’t instant hot chocolate. That instant shit couldn’t hold a candle to the heaven you just drank. This was pure chocolate. Like ‘double boiling cooking bittersweet chocolate over a stove and mixed with cream’ type of hot chocolate. The type of hot chocolate that you always plan to make during winter, but never do because you’re lazy.

“I wanna fuck this hot cocoa–no! I wanna make love to this hot cocoa. Get married, have 3 babies, and retire in Fiji with this hot cocoa.”

Yami lets out a boisterous laugh and sets the cup down. “I see you still haven’t learned your lesson.”

You raise an eyebrow and he points at the cup. “Taking drinks from strangers. Naughty puppy~.”

“Well, I’m already here. Probability states that you most likely won’t drug me again.”

“That’s not how probability works.”

You reply with a half-hearted meh and turn your attention back to the room. It was pretty bare with stairs leading upstairs leading you to believe you were in a basement. Seems about right.

“So.” you began as the man was readying another cookie to your lips. “You own a record player.”

He smiles and continues to feed you the cookie. “I do. It belonged to my grandparents.”

“I knew it.” you muttered, chewing. “So. You know my name, can I ask for my kidnapper’s name or is that a secret like what was in that drink?”

He smiles, like he’s delighted that you finally asked. “I’m Yami Ai, but to you it’s only Ai. Got it?”

You swallow your cookie. “Yes sir. Whatever you say.” He definitely knows which buttons to push to get you to behave.

He watches you carefully as he feeds you another cookie. “You’re… not scared.”

“Well… considering the circumstances, you’d think so.” you shrug. “But honestly, it’s kind of my fault for trusting a sexy 6 foot man who snuck into an office Christmas party to not be insane. Plus, I really should stop taking drinks from people, not just good-looking guys.”

“You take drinks from people often?” he asked, concern laced in his voice.

“I’m literally like a dog. If you put something in front of me, I’m going to put it in my mouth.”

Yami snorts in disbelief. “Looks like I’ll have to keep a close eye on this greedy puppy.” He ruffles your hair, unknowingly unlocking another trait in you.

“So… I’m assuming that the person you were talking about at the party was me, right?”

“Correct.”

“But… why me? I mean, look at you and look at me. You could honestly do better.”

Yami stares at you tenderly. If this were an anime he’d have hearts in his eyes.

“I’ve been watching you,” he admits softly. “For months. Maybe even longer than that. I know everything about you. What you like, what you dislike. Your favorite streaming services. Where you live. Where your parents live. Your internet history–”

“Woah woah woah! Pump the brakes! Don’t out me like this!” you shout, extremely embarrassed and anxious about what he’s seen.

“You know a VPN doesn’t exactly keep you safe from everything–”

“I said OKAY! God! What are you, the feds?!” Your face is as bright red as the ornament on the tree. You want to die on the spot.

Yami laughs again and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I fell in love with you at first sight when I saw you at that matchmaking party.”

“Matchmaking party? I don’t remember you at a matchmaking party. I definitely would’ve gone home with you if you were.”

“I wasn’t there.” he chuckled. “I was at the next table.”

“Oooh. Yeah, I remember. One of my friends called me saying they needed another person to make it even.”

“I remember when I first laid eyes on you. You were so perfect. You didn’t pay any of those people any mind. You sat there, bored, scrolling through TikTok on loud volume.”

“I refuse to lower my volume if nothing exciting is happening.”

Yami laughs again. “That's exactly what you said that time too. Your friends looked embarrassed and the others looked awkward as they tried to continue the conversation over the tiktoks you were laughing at. But, you didn’t look embarrassed. You looked so content. Full of pride.”

“That was false pride. I just don’t like talking to people.”

“After that moment, I started following you. Seeing how you are. Turns out, you’re just as grumpy and stubborn you were that day. Never talking to people unless you had to, putting on fake smiles to put up appearances, throwing away flowers that were left at your desk, flipping off your boss when he turned his back, putting sriracha in his coffee when he wasn’t looking…”

“Sooooo… you fell in love with me… because… I’m a bitchy introvert?”

“That’s one of the reasons. And with Christmas coming up, I thought it was no better time than to steal you away.”

You scoff. “Oh then dude! If that’s the case, you should’ve just said so! If you had just told me to come with you I would’ve done that in a heartbeat.”

He freezes., his face going stoic. “…I could have?”

“Hell yeah!” you confirm. “I fucking haaatee those parties! If you had just said, “Hey, I really like you. Wanna go back to my place. I made chocolate chip cookies and hot cocoa with real chocolate.” I would be in your car before you could even finish that sentence.”

Yami goes silent for a while before speaking again. “So, if any other guy said that to you you would’ve gone with them?”

You feel like you triggered a death flag.

“If any of those bastards in there said that to you you would’ve slept with them? Answer me.”

It takes you a beat to realize.

Ooooh.

He thinks you're desperate.

“Oh, Ai. I’m not desperate.” you reassure. “I’m just pathetic. Really pathetic. Like extremely. Like ‘put me in your car, take me home, and take care of me for the rest of my life’ pathetic.”

Yami’s silence speaks volumes.

“But if you’re asking if I would’ve gone home with those people, then no, like ew. Gross. You couldn’t pay me to sleep with those creatures.”

Yami looks deeply in your eyes like he’s trying to catch you in a lie. “Is that true?”

You Jim-face him. “Did you see those people I work with? Like, gun to my head, maybe Jessica? But that’s only because I’m really into the motherly type.”

Yami grins. “I know. Remember? I saw your internet his–”

“LALALALALALAICAN’THEARYOUICAN’THEARYOULALALALALALALA!!”

Yami starts to laugh and soon you start to laugh with him too. Silence falls again as Yami holds you close. The both of you listening to The Jackson 5 Christmas album. Everything feels… content.

“Heyyy soo… I hate to break up this wonderful moment, but I need to pee.”

*****

“Do I really have to wear this?!” you call out from the bathroom.

“Yes darling! It’s Christmas tradition!” Yami called back.

You exit out of the bathroom in a handmade Christmas sweater that Yami made for you. It fit perfectly. You wonder if he took your measurements while you were asleep. As soon as the thought enters your mind you know that he did. The smell of gingerbread wafts your nose and the melody of a Nat King Cole record fills you with true Christmas spirit.

You enter the living room and hear sounds coming from the kitchen. The cookies must almost be ready. You take a seat on the couch and stare at the fireplace. This reminds you of Christmas with your family. Playing with your cousins outside in the snow. Your mom and aunts making Christmas dinner. Your dad and uncles watching the football game. Your older cousins taking a “walk” in 30° degree weather. You should give them a call sometime.

You look down at the coffee table and see a phone. You pick it up and on closer inspection it seems to be busted, not even turning on. It must be yours. Yami must’ve busted it so no one can track you. If Yami kept to his word at the party, you were never, ever leaving his side. Not like you’d complain. Someone wanting to take care of you and you never have to leave the house? Sounds like jackpot. You look around the room and see your bag. After being forced to give your phone number to your boss as a way of “keeping tabs on team players”, you bought a flip phone so that you can keep your real friends’ and family contacts in it and give you some peace on the weekends when you “accidentally” leave your phone at home. After scrummaging around in your bag for a while you finally find it, your faithful Motorola Razr. It’s still fine. Yami didn’t find it or probably didn’t even know it existed.

You flip it open.

“What are you doing?”

You look behind you to see a not-so-jolly Yami glaring down at you. Well, more likely your phone. You hop up and show him your phone.

“Ai, look!”

He glared at you for a while then at your phone.

12:01 a.m.

“It’s Christmas!” you cheer.

Yami’s face softens as he takes the phone out of your hands.

“Yeah, it is.” he smiles.

You don’t know what comes over you. Maybe it was the Christmas spirit. Maybe it was the cookies and hot cocoa. Maybe it was the adrenaline from all that’s happened.

You stand on your tip-toes and place a kiss on Yami’s cheek. He looked down at you, stunned.

“Merry Christmas, Ai!” you smile, blush on your cheeks.

Yami’s face explodes into red as he smiles happily. “You missed.” He pointed at his lips.

Blushing even harder and swallowing your embarrassment, you stand on your tip-toes again and kiss him gently on the lips. You feel him smile into the kiss and kisses you back passionately, putting his hands on your waist and pulling you closer.

He pulls back inches away from your lips, his face just as flushed as yours. “Merry Christmas, darling~♡”

You don’t have time to think as he lifts you off your feet and carries you to the couch. He sits down and places you on his lap, hands gripped on your hips like you’re not allowed to leave for anything. He looks down at your phone and grins cheekily.

“A flip phone?”

You feign a gasp and grab the flip phone with a playful pout. “You have an antique record player. I have a flip phone. So we both have unique tastes.”

He laughs and bumps your head gently. “I guess we do.” He’s silent for a while before speaking again. “You know… I’m gonna have to take it away.”

“Not my baby!” You hold your flip phone close to your chest.

“Darling… how do I know you won’t call someone to escape?”

“Escape from what? A life of doing nothing, but sitting and looking cute? I’d be an idiot to leave this place. You know where I live! Well, used to live. And where I used to work. And you’re promising a life where I don’t have to go back to that stuff? I can’t go back!”

You grab Yami’s face gently and look longingly into his eyes. “I won’t go back.” you state sternly, reassuring him.

Yami’s eyes soften and he stares at your flip phone. Then back at you. If you wanted to escape, you would’ve done it when he was untying you or when you were in the bathroom. He sighed softly.

“Fine… you can keep the flip phone.”

“Yes!” You pump your fist and kiss your Motorola Razr like it was seconds from being ripped from your grasp. Well, it was going to be, but details.

“But, I’m looking through it and anything I see that I don’t like, I’m deleting it. Worse, I’ll break it.”

“Yes sir!”

Yami chuckles at you calling him ‘sir’. He might keep that in his pocket for later.

As you both hold onto each other, you relax into the sounds of the crackling fireplace and warm scratches from the record player. You’ve had many shitty Christmases as an adult, but this one is one for the books. Santa must’ve been keeping a close eye on you.

He knew that you always wanted a yandere boyfriend for Christmas.

A loud pop from the fireplace brings you out of your thoughts. You look over and see one particular log throwing tiny sparks. An oddly shaped log. A log that looks… familiar.

“Ai… did you break into my house–”

“Yes, I did.” he answers, his lips brushing against your neck. He doesn’t even look up.

“Did you throw my vibra–”

“Yes, I did.” he cuts you off, kissing your neck. “I’m the only pleasure you need. You don’t need fakes.”

Throwing your horny thoughts aside—how did he know that your neck was sensitive?—You cup his face.

“Baby. Sweetie. Honey.”

“I like it when you call me that.”

“You do know that vibrators have batteries in them? Like, lithium batteries, right?”

He looks at you.

Then at the fireplace.

A loud pop shakes the fire, causing both of you to jump in surprise.

“Okay, okay! Let’s go get some water!” he shakes, rising up from the couch steadily with you in his arms.

A bang erupts from the fireplace.

“Hurry hurry! Before the house blows up!”

Yep. A Christmas for the books.

🔪🔪🔪

a/n: hey guys. merry extremely late christmas. kind of a vent (so ignore if you don't care): i haven't been updating and that was mostly due to me working long hours. well, about a month ago i lost my job. i didn't expect to feel depressed about it, but i am. and it got me thinking lately. am i really good at anything? i really like writing and i know you guys like it but this time of reprieve got me thinking. i'm not good at speaking up when things get tough. this time i've had to myself had me questioning if writing is the only thing i'm good at. but i'm not good with schedules. i make mistakes. sometimes i let myself speak instead of the reader. what if one day i make something and it sucks? would i try again or just fall back into depression? i want to make things that make people laugh, smile, and cry. but what if that's not good enough? what if i'm not good enough? kinda self-deprecating i know, but i've been thinking about this for a while and i can only express like true feelings in my writing. sorry for the long vent post. i'm trying my best to kick this feeling in the ass and post stuff i hope you guys enjoy. enjoy your holidays!