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gosmigenergy · 11 months ago

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FEELS LIKE CHRISTMAS / Maxwell Lord (Lorenzano) x F! Reader

Summary: Celebrating Christmas for the first time with Maxwell.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mostly holiday fluff but turns explicit, holiday stress, mentions of family, mentions of Christmases alone, mentions of food, drinking, sixty-nine dude, oral - male receiving, oral - female receiving, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please), language, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 5.9k

Author’s Notes: I did plan on making some continuous fics about Bunny and the Boys but I work in retail, have just come back from Iceland (panini delayed holiday) and I’m going to Norway to visit my sister over Christmas. When I was considering what to do because I really wanted to post something, I found this unfinished Maxwell Lorenzano seasonal story hidden away on my computer.

Anyway, enjoy!

You normally loved the season, you basked in multicoloured lights, engulfed by the smell of roasting chestnuts, ears ringing with the constant playing of hymns and cheesy pop songs.

However this was the first year you and Maxwell chose to celebrate Christmas, with him came Alistair and with him came the pressure of presents. For Maxwell, they had to be perfect even though he wasn’t loaded with fake Black Gold money, he had to give his son what he never had, the one gift every kid was asking for.

The Ghostbusters Firehouse was proving to be one of the most desired toys of the season, it had been since Halloween.

Alistair had dressed as one for the school disco, you’d found a jumpsuit and dyed it brown, found an embroiderer who made the name tag and spent hours building a Proton Pack from cardboard boxes. All that effort was worth it, to see that kid running up the steps with several other Ghostbusters in similar attire, be it triple the price.

“I love you,” Maxwell said, beaming with a lopsided grin and tears framing his eyes.

In that moment, you felt a warmth that you’d never quite felt before, one that was reflective of a proud parent.

You didn’t feel that right now.

After hours of following the herd, going into what felt like every toy shop in DC and coming out empty handed each time, you broke.

“Alistair is back in two and a half hours, I just want to go home,” you cried. You were literally crying on a bench, cheeks hot with the freezing air.

Maxwell’s smile had disappeared long ago, replaced with a straight line.

“Fine.”

He huffed into the space next to you.

The bus ride home was quiet, Maxwell keeping his emotions to himself, his grip tight on the shopping bags. You’re grateful as the tension seemed to drop a little when you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Please talk to me.”

The pair of you had finally stripped yourselves of your winter accessories and coats, abandoning the gifts in your bedroom to stop prying eyes, yet neither of you had said a word.

“What’s there to talk about? I’m a shit father who couldn’t get a present for his son.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Maxwell Lorenzano,” you walk to him and place your hands on his cheeks so he couldn’t look away. “You are not a shit father.”

His deep brown eyes glossed, his chin crinkling as he tried to stop himself from having an absolute meltdown.

“I can’t even get my kid the one toy he wants, what am I going to do?

“What are we going to do? I’m not letting you blame yourself for this. This is companies exploiting Christmas, making people feel shit for things out of their control.”

“Don’t you love Christmas?”

“Yeah but not this. Not making a father feel guilty for not getting his son a toy, that’s not what this is about. I love everything around that, the delight of snow and the rush of having to get outside. The warmth of a hot chocolate settling in your stomach, nights on the couch wrapped in copious amounts of blankets with It’s a Wonderful Life on the tv…”

Your heart twinges.

“The smile on the face of someone you love getting something unexpected, the voice on the other end of the phone as you wish them happy holidays.”

That’s what it always was for you. Your family far away, you unable to afford to get home.

“Mi amour.”

Maxwell brought a thumb to your cheek and caught the tear that had escaped.

You sigh, “It’s just been a long day.”

“I know.”

He pulled you close, resting his slopping nose on top of your head, breathing you in. You hold each other for a fragile moment.

“I need to go and have a think, ok?”

He kissed your forehead.

You nod before looking around your shrinking space, somehow the apartment the three of you shared was getting smaller.

“I’ll get this place in order before Alistair arrives and start on dinner.”

“Thank you, baby.”

He walked away almost defeated.

“Hey, you better not go in there and make some elaborate plan to make everyone’s deepest desires come true.”

“That was one time.”

You giggle.

A while later, the knock at the door interrupts your flow but you couldn’t stay mad for long when that wide smile greets you.

“Max, Alistair’s here!”

You’re almost knocked back as he throws himself at your legs and in for a hug, you squeeze his head to save yourself from falling.

“How’ve you been?”

“Good.”

“How was your mom?”

You didn’t really care, you were just making pleasantries to try and pretend you didn’t find the woman absolutely insufferable. When he lets go and gives you a shrug, you take the hint.

Ok, you mouthed.

“Alistair,” Maxwell appeared, his smile matching his son’s as he fell to his knees to embrace him enthusiastically. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

“Me too, mom said she wants to talk to you, she’s downstairs.”

“Alright, why don’t you help with dinner?”

“Ok!”

Alistair ran to the kitchen.

You guessed what this might be, the exchange of presents from ‘Santa’ as discussed between them. Alistair was going to be away from his mother for the holidays, not that either of them seemed to mind. You and Maxwell would have him until New Year so you had plenty planned.

“I’m sure you can keep him distracted for a while.”

“Of course,” you winked.

---

“Why is your tree so small?”

Alistair cocked his head to the artificial tree placed on a side table next to the television.

“Oh, I got that tree when I first moved to DC. I couldn’t afford much but I was desperate for some sort of Christmas decoration and there it was, last on the shelf at Goodwill.”

“Were you on your own that Christmas?”

“Yeah, my family were all back home.”

“Have you ever been back?”

“No, I’ve never had the chance. Though I’ve had loads of good Christmases here with friends and neighbours, Mrs Zonana gave me the biggest chocolate log you’ve ever seen.”

“Really?! Do you think she’ll make one for the party?”

“I’m sure she will.”

“Have you ever wanted a big tree? Mom had one that almost reached the ceiling.”

You shrug, “I’ve never thought about it, it’s just been me but, yeah, I guess something a little bigger would be nice.”

“And colourful lights for the window?”

The more he inquired, the more excitable he became and your smile grows.

“Colourful lights would be good too.”

“How’s everything going in here?”

Maxwell wrapped his hands around your waist, the chill prominent from his trip outside. He rested his chin on your shoulder and looked down at the carnage of flour, butter and cheese, Alistair’s hands coated in the ingredients.

“It’s gonna be later than expected.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“It’ll be worth the wait.”

---

“Can I just sleep here tonight?”

Alistair’s eyes were heavy, belly full from dinner and his body warm from a combination of flannel pyjamas and a fleece blanket.

“No, we all need to go to bed.”

Maxwell was the only one moving, he’d cleaned up and offered to make special hot chocolates, two of which would feature alcohol. He handed his son a mug brimming with whipped cream and marshmallows.

“But it’s comfy here,” he moaned.

“I can’t disagree with him.”

You were stretched on the couch, waiting for Maxwell to return to fill the space he left behind. He was your headrest, allowed you to snuggle within the crook of his arm and listen to his heart beat slowly. Once he was back, you were asleep for sure.

“Everyone is going to bed,” he reiterated.

He remembered the last time the pair of you fell asleep on the couch, his cricked neck played up for almost a week.

“Boooo.”

“Careful you two or Santa won’t bring you presents.”

Alistair laughed.

“Oh dad, Santa isn’t real.”

“What makes you say that?”

You try to deflect, Maxwell was hoping for another year of illusion at least.

“Jake told me.”

Curse you, Jake.

“Well, it’s not that he’s not real, it’s more that you’re old enough to allow Santa to bring joy to another kid. He’ll make sure this year’s extra special, I’m sure of it.”

His expression scrunched, “That sounds rubbish.”

“Oh no,” Maxwell shook his head, “it’s very true.”

Alistair’s eyes flitted between both of you and you knew the game, keep a straight face just long enough for him to believe you.

“That’s cool.”

He continued to watch the Christmas special on the tv. Maxwell handed you your hot chocolate and slipped into his spot. He let you settle back before leaning down and kissing the top of your head.

His words were soft, “Thank you, baby.”

You had gone to check on Alistair one last time before heading to bed.

“He’s out of it.”

Maxwell was already cosy under the duvet, glasses on as he read a battered copy of A Christmas Carol. Closing the door gently, you tiptoed across the room and slide into the other side, resting your fuzzy head on the pillow.

“How are you not dizzy reading after that drink?”

“Because I didn’t put an extra shot in mine.”

“Max!”

“What? You deserved it.”

You huff, you can’t stay mad at his stupid face, his wide toothy smile looking down on you.

“How did it go… with the present swap?”

He put his book down, “Fine.”

Maxwell was a man of little words when it came to his ex wife.

“You know you told Alistair that white lie about Santa Claus? Well, lucky for us, she managed to get that firehouse.”

“Of course,” you scoff.

The moment Maxwell lost his ‘wealth’, his then wife dropped him for someone who could pay the lifestyle she was after.

“Paid triple the amount for it.”

You let out a singular laugh.

“At least Alistair will be happy.”

“Do you think he’ll like what we got him?”

“Why do you ask?”

Maxwell’s brows furrowed, maybe he did make a mistake putting another measure of Irish cream in your hot chocolate.

“He knows we’re not necessarily as well off as his mom but I don’t want him thinking that we don’t love him as much because we can’t give him that.”

“Alistair knows we love him, maybe even more than his mother does.”

“We got him underwear,” you throw your arms up as you spoke.

“He needs new ones.”

“I know he does but we’re giving them as a present.”

“I was very happy when I got underwear one year.”

“You’re lucky to have a kid like him.”

“I’m lucky to have you too,” he said, cuddling closer. “Not every girlfriend would go from toy store to toy store trying to get a present for a kid that isn’t theirs.”

“You both mean the world to me.”

“And you’re everything to us.”

He cupped your cheek, feeling the heat seer through his palm before his lips met yours.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You can’t remember falling asleep, only Maxwell gently shaking you awake. In your groggy state, you could sense it was still dark out yet you rolled over to see him fully dressed.

“Alistair and I are heading out,” he whispered. “He forgot to get a present for his friend.”

“I’ll get dressed.”

“No, don’t get up. Have some time to yourself, ok baby? We might be a while.”

“Ok,” you immediately roll back over.

No offence to Maxwell but it was way too early and you were far too hungover to kick up a fuss, he told you to stay and you wouldn’t put up a fight about it.

The phone started to ring the moment you stepped out of the shower.

After a lie-in, you visited Mrs Zonana ahead of her Christmas party, hosted every year in the apartment complex’s courtyard. You offered to help in some way and after much persuasion, she had you and another neighbour putting up the gazebo and decorations. Then you got back and knocked up some cookies for the evening before getting ready.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.”

“How’s your day going, Max?”

He groaned, “It’s gone fine but we’re running late, we’re waiting for the next bus. Do you mind if we meet you at Mrs Zonana’s?”

“Not at all, can’t promise there’ll be any food left.”

“It’s Mrs Zonana, she’ll save us a plate.”

You hum sarcastically.

“Don’t deny it, she loves me.”

You roll your eyes, “Am I being replaced?”

“Of course not,” the phone crackled, “I’ve got to go, love you.”

He hung up before you got the chance to reply.

When you finally made it downstairs, the outside was already buzzing. You made your way through the throng of your neighbours, stating you’d catch up later before reaching Mrs Zonana.

“Oh, I’ll make the boys their plates and keep them warm in the oven.”

“You don’t have to, they’re the ones running late.”

She battered you with a tea towel, which you were unable to decipher whether it was meant to be playful or if she really did want it to hurt.

“Sorry we’re late!”

Everyone practically cheered at Maxwell and Alistair’s arrival. You swiftly apologise to Nico to ensure you got to them first.

“Finally! Where have you two been?”

You jokingly put your hand on your hip and pout, Alistair giggling at your phoney expression because you, of all people, were never mad.

“Sorry, baby.”

“It’s not me you have to apologise to,” you smile wickedly as you sense Mrs Zonana’s presence.

“Alistair, come get yours and your father’s food.”

He runs away immediately.

“Did everything go ok?”

Maxwell hummed.

“You look exhausted.”

“I know but it’s all with a good intention.”

You rubbed your thumb along his cheek, warm in a rush to make it back, the faintest sensation of whiskers from lack of shaving.

“How have I not been greeted by my man yet?”

“Hola, Mrs Zonana.”

Maxwell slipped seamlessly into Spanish around her and you always prayed that they were saying kind words when your name popped up. You drew your attention to Alistair for a while and listened to him talk about his day with his father.

Occasionally, yours and Maxwell’s eyes would catch across the courtyard and you’d exchange the softest of smiles throughout the rest of the evening.

“I’m tired.”

Alistair was valiant in staying up, most of the other kids had gone to bed. He flopped onto the edge of the garden box with you and Maxwell, who had escaped another lecture on ancient artefacts from Mr Fennec.

“We should probably get you boys to bed, huh? It’s been a long day.”

They both groan, playfully collapsing their heads to your shoulders.

“Come on,” you ruffle Alistair’s hair.

After saying your goodbyes, the three of you strolled up to the apartment.

“I have never seen a boy this excited to go to bed,” you laugh.

Alistair had run ahead the moment you reached the walkway. Maxwell brought you closer, locked an arm around your waist and breathed you in.

“Don’t think I can blame him.”

The holidays were always tiring even when you were on your lonesome, you were always invited somewhere with someone and keeping up appearances was the norm. You spent years coming back, crashing onto the mattress before getting up to do the whole thing all over again. It was nice that the building party was the only real big deal this year.

Maxwell chose to do his office party by himself because why would you want to be surrounded by drunk, obnoxious salesmen for the evening? You were better off with Alistair baking cookies, watching a film and secretly helping him wrap presents for his father. Then Alistair’s mom took him to the school party and to meet Santa, attending the Christmas light switch on was the one event you happily obliged.

“Why are you taking so long?”

“Because we’re old,” Maxwell shouted as he and you approached.

“Did you hang mistletoe on the door?”

Your inquiry was met with a shrug.

“You do realise that I don’t need a Christmas tradition for an excuse to kiss you?”

“Ew,” Alistair fake barfed.

Maxwell rummaged to find the key in his pocket, refusing to let go of you. Alistair snatched it out of his hand as soon as it reemerged. Maxwell’s hand came to your jaw and gently, he eased you to face him. He stared at you with his brown puppy dog eyes, bringing his other hand to meet your cheek.

“Shouldn’t we be under the mistletoe?”

His face was illuminated by an orange glow as Alistair made his way inside.

“Too much effort,” he smiled before clashing your lips together.

It could be because he’s tired or the alcohol or the fact he was trying to make the kiss more of a pantomime for his son to endure but Maxwell was messy. He practically pinned your face to his with both hands, slipping his tongue passed your lips sloppily, forcing your body to turn backwards to the door.

You gasped for air when he finished.

“I like the enthusiasm.”

You take a couple of steps back to see his expression soften, he knew what he’d done, chose not to say anything.

Then you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

Wait, that wasn’t there when I left.

And suddenly the room seemed to fill with pinpricks of every colour.

“Merry Christmas!”

Alistair leapt from behind you and slowly, inch by inch, you took everything in. You didn’t utter a word, couldn’t even scream as your chest began to heave.

The tiny desk tree had been replaced with one triple the size, overloaded with baubles. Every wall was lined with string lights, the kitchen sill decorated with ornaments and tinsel and the focal point, three stockings hanging from the breakfast bar, embroidered with golden letters.

“Do you like it?”

You fall to your knees and squeeze Alistair hard. You put every ounce you had in you to hug that boy and kissed his head multiple times.

“I love it, Alistair, I love it so much,” your voice cracked.

“You’re crying.”

“They’re happy tears, I promise,” the words were catching in your throat.

“Let me take your coat, baby, Alistair’s got more to show you.”

“There’s more?”

Alistair was beaming up at you, nodding passionately.

Maxwell helped you pull yourself out of your coat, your body shaking as it failed to follow basic instruction. He trailed a hand down your spine as you attempted to get it together, wiping the tears that were already falling.

Taking your hand, Alistair showed you what else they’d done. The old tree had now taken pride of place at the end of the corridor between your rooms. There was more lights along the ceiling and the pictures on the walls had changed to winter scenes of snowfall, ice skating and carollers.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this just for me,” you smile, more tears forming.

“Well, I said about it to dad and he said he overheard us talking yesterday and felt like we should do something,” Alistair said. “Also I didn’t have any money and I couldn’t get up high so I needed some help.”

You couldn’t help hugging him again.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better surprise.”

“Really?”

“Oh, I’m going to remember this one forever.”

Alistair excitedly returned to Maxwell to pass on the good news. Of course you were going to love it, Maxwell knew you would. Luck aligned for him, there was still some money left in the budget you two had built, Mrs Zonana gave a hefty contribution and Suzanne from the other block let him and Alistair hide whilst they also played look out.

Plenty of people loved you more than you realised.

He automatically hugged you when you came back, “You good?”

“There aren’t any more surprises are there, I don’t think I can cope.”

“Not from me.”

You laugh into his chest, “Thank god.”

He ran a hand through your hair, squeezing you a little tighter before reluctantly letting you go.

“Can I have another one of those hot chocolates?”

“Sure.”

“And me,” Alistair chimed in, “please.”

The three of you rested on the couch, Alistair retelling the day and how each decoration came to be. It felt like your heart could burst, he was so overjoyed. Maxwell’s arm was draped firmly over your shoulder, chest rising and falling slowly as sleep tried to take him.

You knew you spent too long in the bathroom, you worried Maxwell may have fallen asleep before he even got chance to see your gift. It was a risk you were taking but you hoped it would pay off.

“Maxwell. Are you asleep?”

“Just resting my eyes,” his head lulled against the headboard.

“Oh because I was hoping I could give you one of your presents early.”

He opened one eye, “Really?”

You hum, fingertips playing with the tie on your fluffy dressing gown.

“Well, you’ve been such a good boy these past couple of days,” you pull open the knot, “and I think you deserve it.”

You shrug your shoulders and let the fabric fall to the floor with a light thud. Maxwell’s head snapped up, both eyes wide with the delight of seeing you dressed in nothing more than a see-through babydoll in bright red, nothing left to the imagination. Your bush freshly trimmed and nipples pert.

His smile brought the dimples to his cheeks. He leaned forward, gesturing with both hands.

“Come here.”

You saunter to the edge of the bed and he moves to you fit perfectly between his legs. His hands run up the backs of your thighs, fingers burying into your ass as he pressed his forehead to your stomach, the refreshing scent of your favourite perfume catching in his nostrils. He moved his hands to your hips before looking up at you drunkenly.

“How long have you been hiding this from me?”

You hum, biting your lip sheepishly.

Whilst in the mall, deflated from toy shopping, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, leaving Maxwell amongst the other male shoppers in the seating area. As you walked, your eyes caught something in the window of a shop.

You only treated yourself to lingerie when it was a special occasion and after the day you two were having, it called for it.

Dress up wasn’t something you and Maxwell chose to do so, even though the enthusiastic sales assistant tried, you gravitated towards the little red number you wore tonight.

“I shouldn’t have got you tipsy last night, should I?”

You cup his face in your palms.

“It didn’t help.”

Brushing aside his stray hairs, you lean down and kiss him deeply, his back straightening to attention. You both part, catching your breaths.

“So, are you one of Santa’s naughty little elves or…”

Maybe you should have got the costume. You look at him, your eyelids low as the corner of your lips curled.

“I’d much rather be Mrs Claus.”

The smile grew back on his face.

“Now it’s time for you to go back to bed.”

Maxwell happily obliged. He made sure to look at the view in detail one more time before slipping his hands off you. Pushing back on the mattress, he rested on the pillow, hands tucked behind his head.

“Are you coming to tuck me in?”

You climb on the bed and crawl over his body, your index finger trailing along his underwear where his hardening cock was becoming visible.

“Not until…”

Your faces meet and he waits in anticipation for your next line, it doesn’t come easily. You think of all the seasonal puns but they’re all ridiculous - candy cane, north or south pole, Christmas has cum early?

He breaks first, a singular laugh ruining any chance of you being a seductive Mrs Claus.

“Hard to keep up the charade?”

“Yeah,” your expression scrunches. “I don’t think ‘not getting rid of your south pole’ does what I want it to do.”

He snorts at the terminology.

“Want me to take the rein?”

You thought he was going to make some sort of sleigh ride joke but nothing came after. He calmly brushed the hair from your face, breathing and heartbeat steady, his expression soft. Maxwell didn’t usually take control but this time, he seemed so sure.

“Ok.”

Then something changed, his pupils blew a dark black.

“Turn around.”

You listened, swapping your legs over each side. His hands travel up your legs before they claw your ass apart and you instinctively arch your back to offer him a better view. His cock twitched beneath the cotton fabric.

“Wet as always.”

“Always for you.”

He hummed, glad you were facing the other way round because he could feel the temperature rise in his cheeks.

You kiss the skin above the waistband of his underwear then lick in one motion, sending a shiver along Maxwell’s spine. He returns the favour, kissing the creases that joined your legs to your butt before spreading his tongue over your folds.

You shudder, leaning back further to try and catch the tip of his nose.

He knew exactly what you were doing, “Behave.”

You grumble, pouting your lips as you glance over your shoulder. You couldn’t see much past the sight of your ass but you caught each other’s eye.

Your fingers play with the elastic before you gradually peel his underwear off, inspecting his throbbing bright tip, precum glistening. To behave would be to not take the top in your mouth and spread your tongue over but you were going to get him back for his little remark, that and you were hungry for him. Dampening your lips, you took Maxwell in your mouth, rewarded with his lengthily moan.

“Oh fuck,” he says as you take him further, “you are not behaving.”

He felt your soft laugh against him, the vibrations pleasing enough to have him creeping closer to the edge.

There was only one way to play this game.

Swallowing hard, he spreads you wider before teasing you along your outer lips, soothing with his tongue after a gentle nip. You breath with a sigh and just as he gets you into a false sense of security, he buries himself into your weeping cunt.

You pull up, Maxwell’s cock falling with a slap to his navel as you gasp and whimper.

“Put me back in your mouth, baby, I don’t want you waking up Alistair.”

You massage his balls lightly and the air hisses through his teeth, he was going to blow if you weren’t careful.

“And what about you?”

Maxwell was the most vocal lover you’d encountered. He didn’t respond, returning to your cunt with more finesse, his tongue working against your blooming clit.

You let out a choked whine before wrapping your lips around his tip and sweeping around with your tongue. You felt his groan run through every nerve ending, your walls clamping round him. Slowly you took his length into your throat and back up again, picking up the pace according to his movements.

You couldn’t tell how long the pair of you were locked like this, in this pure unadulterated bliss.

He only came up for air to sing your praises and for his final admittance, “I’m so close, baby.”

You already knew that.

His hips had bucked a few times to get his cock further into that little throat of yours, the sound of you gagging sweeter than any music. His body was tensing, his grip on your hips making them numb, he was forcing himself not to cum out of the want of making you cum first.

“This is your treat, Maxwell,” you say after releasing his cock with a pop. “How do you want me?”

“I want to watch you bounce on my dick until we both cum.”

You smile coyly, turning yourself to face him, “Now that’s some Christmas magic I can do.”

Straddling his hips, you kiss him squarely on the lips and force him to lay with his back firmly on the mattress. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you taste the tang of your arousal before pulling back, teeth nipping his bottom lip.

You lift yourself up, taking his cock in your hand as you line it up with your entrance. Eyes focusing on him, you slowly sink down, Maxwell releasing a choked gasp when just his tip slides between your folds.

His eyes flick up and down your frame as his palms trail your thighs, encouraging you to take his length.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you lower yourself, a soft hum as he fills you. His cock twitches, his head falling back, eyelashes fluttering shut as you held steady.

“Fuck,” he sighs.

You sit for a minute, inner walls pulsing as your aching pussy readjusts to the stretch of his girth. All this time together and you still hadn’t gotten used to how heavy his cock was. He feels fingertips grazing the skin of his chest and opens his eyes. You’re gazing down at him, eyelids low but he could still catch the glint in your eye.

“I thought you wanted to watch.”

Oh, he did but he fucking adored how you felt around him, he could stay like this all night if you allowed him. But you started to raise your hips, your other hand lifting the fabric to your waist so he could see the drag of your folds.

He groaned, not too loud yet not too soft, just enough for it to hit your ears.

“Like that?”

You tease as you drop back down, knocking the air out of his lungs. He can’t answer, can barely move his head because his mind is solely on your pussy around his cock. You gradually begin to pick up the pace when your legs stop protesting, the slap of your skin against his getting stronger, his fingers digging further into the flesh of you.

A squeaking moan escapes you every time you bounce from him, lips sealed together as you try to keep the volume down. You can still hear Maxwell, his hushed praises blending into his second language, his throat bulging as he tries to contain his grunts and groans.

Your walls were tightening, your hips stuttering when the tip of his cock hit somewhere new as you rolled your pelvis forward. His lips crashed into yours, swallowing the honeyed groan that came deep from your chest. He held you in place, your legs shaking with anticipation.

You could feel your arousal spilling between your thighs, preparing you for the final chase, the spark igniting low in your belly.

Maxwell coiled his arms around your waist, removing his lips from yours as he nudged his nose against your cheek. You catch your breath, fingers drawing circles over his shoulder blades before you finally looked in his big brown eyes. Always soft and sincere even though you were about to ruin him, he would happily take it.

You kiss his lips, palms moving to settle on either side of his neck. Lifting your ass a little, you let him shuffle his legs closer to boost you up before you rolled your hips.

A moan escapes you as your clit grazes the hairs above his cock. He sighs, lips parting as he focuses on your movements, your walls twitching around his aching cock. His broad palms fall from your waist and over the curve of your ass, fingers sinking into the muscle as he guides you up his length.

“That’s it,” he says breathily.

And when you get going again, you feel the tingle as it dances along your skin, your belly warming. Maxwell’s hands following as you bounce, legs locking beneath your weight.

Both of your hot and heavy breaths trickle down your flushed chest, his soft grunts seeping into your ears. Your hands trail over his outline, the shiver shooting up his spine as your fingertips tease.

His head fell forward and you pulled him close to your body, nestling his face in the crook of your neck. Keeping on hand on his back, you draw the other to his hair, the colour no longer a fake blonde. Your fingers delve into his thick roots and tug gently, the noise he makes having you close your eyes, riding his cock as fast as your ceasing legs would allow.

His hands grip tighter, his tongue so loose he can barely get the words out to warn you as his balls recede and he coats your walls. He manages to hold you down as you hiss through your teeth, body trembling as your own orgasm surges through your body.

“Shit, Max,” you choke.

Your cunt pulsates, milking him for every last drop before your muscles relax. He groans your name passionately, his body going limp, back hitting the mattress with a loud exhale.

You keep your eyes closed, your hand reaching for his chest as it rose, filling the lungs with much needed oxygen. Your legs shudder with an aftershock, his hand coming to your wrist. You blink, the room coming into focus and you catch his lopsided grin as he gazed up at you in a blissed out state.

“Best present a guy could ask for,” he chuckles.

You giggle, brushing the hair from your face with your free hand. Lifting your hips, you slide off his cock, thick white cum dribbling from your folds before you crawled up the bed to settle next to him.

He snakes an arm under your neck, across your shoulders to draw you closer to his chest. You snuggle to his frame, draping a leg in between his, hand fixed to his chest as his heartbeat slowed.

Glancing up, his eyes are already closed. You knew he was exhausted, all the rushing around, trying to give everyone the best Christmas, making up for all the ones he’d missed. All you wanted to do was tell him he didn’t have to but he wouldn’t listen.

Maxwell wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he came to in the morning, your side of the bed was empty. He could hear life outside of the door, the faint strip of sunlight breaking through the curtains. Stretching, he tried to find his t-shirt before guessing you borrowed it when Alistair came to wake someone.

In the now cramped living room, he saw you and Alistair on the couch, huddled under a blanket with mugs in your hands. The pair of you had soft smiles and were whispering to one another, you attempting to understand what was happening on the kids show you were watching. A few more presents had made an appearance under the tree, sugar cookies filling a plate on the coffee table.

“Morning,” his voice sounded groggy, vocal cords not quite ready to talk.

“Morning dad!”

“Morning, coffee’s fresh if you want some.”

Your smile grows at his arrival before he comes down and kisses you. He continues to watch you both while he wanders round the kitchen, semi listening to what was happening on the tv. Returning with a mug of coffee, Maxwell leans over and grabs a handful of cookies, met with a little groan from Alistair who had to tilt sideways to see the screen.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers before sitting down.

You wriggle to make room as he slumps into his usual spot. After he’s got comfy, you nestle back against him and he drapes an arm over your shoulder. His lips come to the crown of your head.

“You ok?”

“Perfect,” he strokes your cheek as you drop your head back. “Feels like Christmas.”

#ww84 #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lorenzano #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord ww84 #pedro pascal fanfiction #smut #one shot #it's christmas

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ao3feed-destiel-02 · 4 months ago

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Ghostbusters Or Something Like That

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/01MbI34 by justavibingaxolotl So it's not like they were trying to get into this types of situation, but Devon is getting really tired of being tied up against a chair and having to hear Chucky monologue his ear off about what messed up stuff he's planning. At least Lexy is with him now, even if she's tied up with him. Force in numbers or something like that, right? or Horror trio meet the Winchesters and hunt Chucky down Words: 2258, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English Fandoms: Chucky (TV 2021) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M, Gen, M/M, Other Relationships: Devon Evans/Jake Wheeler, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Lexy Cross/Original Female Character(s), Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Lexy Cross & Devon Evans & Jake Wheeler, Grant Collins & Lexy Cross Additional Tags: Fix-It of Sorts, Found Family, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Human Jack Kline, Kid Jack Kline, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Horror Trio Become Hunters, Crossover, Canon-Typical Violence, Author Is Sleep Deprived, How Do I Tag, Only 1 Chucky Doll Left, But He's Powerful And Stuff read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/01MbI34

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #(your tags here)

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reddie-ao3feed · 9 months ago

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Mystery Kids: Sitting Ducks

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/AMCqcrK by BloomingSkeletons Our favorite heroes are thrown into the world of debutantes and masquerades. With lives changed and hearts yearning, will our protagonists find happiness? Or will they drown in the storm? Words: 2321, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 3 of Mystery Kids Collection Fandoms: Coraline (2009), ParaNorman (2012), The Boxtrolls (2014), Gravity Falls, Stranger Things (TV 2016), IT (Movies - Muschietti), A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), Invader Zim, The Owl House (Cartoon), Amphibia (Cartoon), Wednesday (TV 2022), Ghostbusters (1984-1989; 2021), Fear Street Trilogy (Movies 2021) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Relationships: Coraline Jones & Wybie Lovat, Coraline Jones/Wybie Lovat, Coraline Jones/Dib Membrane, Eggs (The Boxtrolls)/Winifred Portley-Rind, Pacifica Northwest/Dipper Pines, Norman Babcock/Dipper Pines, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Klaus Baudelaire/Isadora Quagmire, Wednesday Addams/Enid Sinclair, Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson, Amity Blight/Luz Noceda, Hunter | The Golden Guard/Willow Park, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Will Byers/Mike Wheeler Additional Tags: Inspired by Bridgerton (TV), Minor Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Forbidden Love, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Lovers To Enemies, Suggestive Themes, Class Issues, Discrimination, Alternate Universe - Regency, Regency Romance, Stalking, Possessive Behavior read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/AMCqcrK

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it 2017 #it 2019 #fic rec #reddie fic red #stephen king it

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network-warrior-01 · 3 years ago

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Here’s how I’m gonna tag things here

(will update daily)

#My Things - things that are mine

#personal reads - Fics I like and may read again later

#good references - art/writing/other references

#Not Canon - old post/theory but I want to reblog anyway

#Toon Things - Cartoon things that don’t fit in a specific tag

#Videos Games - Games

#comic nonsense - Web comics

#The Mouse - Miscellaneous Disney Stuff

#Art Thingy - amazing art not related to a cartoon

#reality - none cartoon related post

#unfortunately - Add on to the reality tag if the news isn’t good

#human rights - Civil rights/pride stuff

#Umm... Ow - Sad Post

#D’awwwwww - Cute post

#WHEEZE - Funny post

#Ooo,Spicy - EXACTLY WHAT IT SOUNDS LIKE (don't expect this tag to be used much)

#Edgyest of edge - Blood/intense themes

#Bah la la la la - Big hero 6

#Gay space rocks - Steven Universe

#Woo-oo - Ducktales

#I AM..... - Darkwing Duck

#Gotta Cetch'em All - Pokemon

#little weird, little wild - Star vs the forces of evil

#Who ya gonna call? - Ghostbusters

#Stay Determined - Undertale

#GOD F***ING DAMMIT KRIS - Deltarune

#Just West of Weird - gravity Falls

#Magic is Friendship - my little pony

#WHOOOOOOOAAAAA! - regular show

#Back to the past - Samurai Jack

#Turtle Power - tmnt

#WHAT TIME IS IT? - Adventure time

#Going Ghost - Danny Phantom

#We'll Be There! - We Bare Bears

#IT IS I ZIIIIIIIIIIM! - Invader Zim

#Let down your hair - Tangled

#Ba Ding - Sonic the hedgehog

#It's a me - Mario Bros.

#Let's be heroes - OK KO

#Super Fighting Robot - Mega-Man

#Be Gay Do Witchcraft - The Owl House

#Spranne Against The World - Amphibia

#For The Honor of Greyskull - She-ra and The Princesses of Power

#He will Set Us Free - Bendy and The Ink Machine

#I Will Put You Back Together - Five Nights at Freddys

#Roll Out - Transformers

#The angst train - Infinity Train

#That's rough Buddy - Avatar

#Call Me Beep Me - Kim Possible

#Oh Nerds - Glitch Techs

#H.A.M.U.F.A. - Kipo and The Age of Wonderbeasts

#By The Power of Greyskull - He-man and The Masters of The Universe

#Inside of Every demon is a Rainbow - Hazbin Hotel

#Hello Blitzy - Helluva Boss

#HERE COMES - LEGO Monkie Kid

#Ninja GO! - Ninjago

#Don’t Deal With The Devil - Cuphead

#PLUS ULTRA! - My Hero Academia

#Bloody Hell - Harry Potter

#Moon Girl Magic - Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur

#What’s The Time? PLAYTIME! - Poppy Playtime

#I Wanna Be Famous - Total Drama/Ridonculous Race

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agaypanic · 4 years ago

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My Masterlists

My inbox is currently CLOSED for requests

Request Rules + Character List | AO3 | Ko-fi | Spotify | Character.ai

Any feedback (likes, reblogs, comments) is greatly appreciated :)

If you’d like to be notified about future works, you can send me an ask or comment saying what characters/fandoms you want to be notified for and I’ll add you to the tag list for it!

Active Masterlists

Discontinued Masterlists

A Series Of Unfortunate Events | IT | The Maze Runner | I Am Not Okay With This

My Anons: 🍰, 📖, 🍎, 🪻, 🐝, :], 🧛, 👻, 🎸, ❤️‍🔥, 🎀, 💚, 🩻

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incorrectbatfam · 5 years ago

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Can you do smth like "what your favorite says about you" for the Supers and Flashes since you did the bats

Tag yourself: what your favorite characters say about you

Clark: you used to punch lenses out of 3D glasses to look like a hipster

Conner: you routinely get the Backstreet Boys, the Beach Boys, and Beast Boy mixed up

Chris: you fall in love with characters who make a two-second cameo in a two-hour long film

Bizarro: you cry during animal shelter PSAs

Kara: you liked the 2016 Ghostbusters better than the original

Jon: you were the only person in your sixth grade class who didn’t know the f-word

Lois: your favorite member of the Batfamily is Alfred

Krypto: you had a Webkinz

Streaky: you don’t need a partner, just a cat and some houseplants

Jay: you like the original 1930s DC comics and think everything’s gone down the toilet since

Joan: you watch those Cooking The Victorian Way videos on YouTube

Barry: whenever someone sees a gray hair on your head they instinctively pluck it without asking you first

Iris: you’re the first to pull out your phone when something happens only for the thing to end before you can record it

Wally: you’re ready to throw hands with whoever wrote the Game Of Thrones series finale

Bart: every time someone says “you can’t eat all that” you look them dead in the eyes and say, “watch me”

Jai: you say “fight me” a lot for someone who’s 5′0″

Irey: you’re the kid who got away with everything while your siblings had to take the heat

#tag yourself #i'm bizarro and bart #superfamily #flash family #justice league #ask #anonymous #dc comics #tw food mention #tw violence mention

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buffyversefanfiction · 4 years ago

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The Haunting of Buffy Summers

Warning: I do not own the rights to the television show Buffy the Vampire Slayer, its spin-off series Angel, its dark horse comics continuation series, or any of the characters created by Joss Whedon and others in the Buffyverse. 15 years +, Mild to Strong Violence, Sexual References. F/F, F/M, M/M, Other +

PART ONE

It had been months since the passing of Buffy and Angel’s son Tristan and despite the relief over there being no sign of the shadow demon that was released at the time of Tristan’s death there was very little reason to celebrate for Buffy and co this Halloween as Buffy and Angel both mourned their child, Dawn grieved her nephew, Faith a friend, Willow an honoree nephew and Spike an strained ally. Yes, this Halloween nobody had celebration in mind, well almost nobody. “Xander, you absolutely cannot dress up my niece as a pumpkin!” Buffy told her best friend as she and Xander walked through a local cemetery within San Francisco. “With our luck with Halloween you’ll end up turning baby Joyce into an actual pumpkin.” Buffy had always called her niece baby Joyce instead of just Joyce, even though she was a young child now and no longer a baby she could never bring herself to just call her Joyce, perhaps because it was confirmation there was no other Joyce amongst the living anymore or perhaps it just brought up too much pain. Buffy thought about her mother everyday but more so since the death of her son, more than ever she wished for her mother to be there and somehow make everything okay not that she could even if she was still alive but still wishing was better than accepting the harsh reality of what her life had become. “Your niece wants to be a vampire of all things it is literally like she knows what we all get up to when we join her aunt Buffy for late night walks.” Xander admitted to her. “I for one don’t feel like having to stop my five-year-old from biting my neck because Halloween got too real again!” “Somehow I’d still prefer that over my niece potentially becoming somebody’s pumpkin pie despite how delicious pumpkin pie maybe.” Buffy replied to her best friend. “You should come over for Halloween might be nice spending it with family,” Xander suggested. “Especially after everything…” “Nah, maybe next year this year I really do not feel like getting caught up with Halloween.” Buffy responded, making it clear she wanted to be alone. “Do not get me wrong if some wacky stuff starts happening text me but otherwise it is me, my couch and some good old-fashioned movie watching.” Before Xander could reply to Buffy’s rejection of his invitation to spend Halloween with him, Dawn and baby Joyce Buffy stopped walking, becoming frozen within the spot she stood in, forcing Xander to stop walking, clearly concerned for the slayer as the slayer turned to her side to notice her son Tristan’s grave, her eyes going straight towards his tombstone. “I cannot believe I almost walked past it!” Buffy told Xander, the hurt of seeing her son’s grave clearly all over her face. “Burying dust is kind of weird when you think of it, I mean he was technically already supernaturally cremated…but it sure is nice to be able to see him every night…just wish I did not have to wait for his death before I could be this close to him.” “Maybe you should start skipping this cemetery?” Xander suggested as he put his arm around Buffy and side hugged her tightly. “Willow and I could patrol this cemetery, so you do not have to be here all the time.” “Thanks for the offer Xander but I cannot leave him again, I have already left him too many times before.” Buffy replied as tears began forming in her eyes. “Even if he does not know it, I do not ever want him to think I’m gone.”

The very next morning, the morning of all hallows eve certainly proved to live up to it’s spooky legacy for Buffy as she awoke from her bed, climbed out of it, stood up and walked over to her nearby dresser where she sat down in front of the mirror, picked up and brush and began combing her luxurious long blonde hair. “Happy Halloween,” Buffy mumbled to herself as she continued brushing her hair before she suddenly heard the roaring noise of the television coming from the living room of the apartment she shared with Willow. Buffy stood up from her dresser chair, charged towards her bedroom door, opening it with force before running straight into the living room where the deafening noise of the television continued to grow louder as she desperately search for the television remote within the corners and sides of the nearby couch. The noise was not only heard by the slayer as she quickly discovered when Willow rushed out of her room chanting loudly in a long dead language before waving her hand and suddenly the noise was gone. “Hey Buffy love you and everything but the next time you try deafening me in the morning I may have to turn you back into a rat.” Willow joked with her, only to be left shocked by a stunned Buffy who stared blankly towards the television. “Buffy, I was only joking about the rat thing.” Willow glanced over to the television to see what Buffy was staring at only for her to be left shocked to see the television was switched off. “Do not tell me we are haunted again,” Willow complained to Buffy. “Here is hoping it is something you killed this time and not me!” “I think it was Tristan,” Buffy admitted to her redheaded best friend. “I was at his grave last night he is clearly trying to contact me.” “Buffy, you are at his grave every night I doubt he’s decided to make contact for the first time on Halloween.” Willow told her as she began walking towards Buffy. “I’d love it for him to be able to say goodbye to you but you and I both know it’s probably some pissed off spirit or something else.” “Yeah I know,” Buffy sighed as she sat down on the couch. “It is just the shadow demon is out there somewhere whose to say Tristan is not?” “We have been through this before sweetie, Tristan’s at peace and maybe that’s the best place for him to be.” Willow replied as she sat down on the couch, sitting next to Buffy. “I do not think he’s anywhere bad I think he’s finally at peace and I think that is something he wanted for a really long time.” “Your right it is probably just some new Halloween horror that I am going to have to kill or whatever it is that we call getting rid of a ghost...” Buffy responded, trying and failing to sound any less sad than she was. “Or we could call ghostbusters and I can go back to bed?” “There’s a powerful psychic that I tend to go to from time to time when I feel the need to hear something from the other side her name is Madame Majestic and she is really good I’ll go see her and see if it is spirit related before we hit the books for alternatives.” Willow revealed to her best friend, eager to take some responsibility off the struggling slayer. “Here’s me thinking all those mystic megs and Madame magics were all phonies.” Buffy admitted before standing up from the couch. “Drop me her address and I’ll go see what Madame Majestic has to say about haunted televisions.” “I could go for you…you know…in case you get hurt when you realize it is not Tristan.” Willow suggested as she stood up to face her friend. “This seems like more like a case for a witch than a slayer maybe you should just go back to bed and let me handle this.” “I’m fine with going Willow to be honest I would rather stay busy and I think I want to handle this one alone for now…you know until witch assistance is needed.” Buffy told her, reassuring the witch that she would be fine going solo. “Okay…I could go with you though? Maybe even get Xander to tag along like the old days just us three?” Willow offered, worried to leave the slayer alone, knowing how much Buffy had been struggling following the death of her son. “I kind of just want to be alone!” Buffy admitted, feeling guilty for pushing away her friend but needing the time to herself.

Buffy walked down one of the many back alleyways within San Francisco in search of Madame Majestic’s headquarters eager to find out what caused the television annoyance earlier that day, convinced it was the spirit of her late son despite her friend Willow telling her otherwise but not wanting to get her hopes up at the same time in case Willow was right. Buffy stopped at a door painted a bright baby blue before noticing the writing “Come on in, I’m waiting” written on the window next to the door. “Well here goes nothing!” She mumbled to herself as she started knocking on the door only to be met by no answer. She waited at the door longer than she would wait at most doors that people did not answer because she believed her best friend would never steer her wrong and after several minutes the bright blue door suddenly opened by itself, alarming Buffy at first by a tell tale sign off what may await her when she walked into Madame Majestic’s. Although that worry never stopped Buffy as she knew deep down whatever was haunting her this Halloween would find her again one way or another and therefore, she was ready to find it first. “You must be Buffy Summers you have many fans on the other side and even more enemies.” Madame Majestic greeted Buffy, as Buffy walked into a darkly lit room to find Madame Majestic dressed up like a stereotypical gypsy styled psychic, sitting at a table with a clear crystal ball. “You got to be kidding me! This is right out a horror movie well a B horror movie although every horror movie is a B when your life is an A horror.” Buffy complained to the psychic as she walked over to the table and sat down on a seat opposite her. “I am very aware of your chosen destiny Miss Summers just as much as you are aware of a spirit haunting you,” The psychic replied to the slayer. “You are confused by the spirits identity and even more so confused that they have chosen Halloween of all times to contact you but you should not be frustrated with this spirit as Halloween hauntings are very common. It is after all when the veil between the living and the dead is at its weakest.” “I think I’ve heard that before never thought much of it till now. Is this spirit…. evil?” Buffy wondered, unable to ask if it were her son, fearing Madame Majestic would say no. “The lines between evil and good are blurred with many especially with your son but no he is not trying to harm you in fact he needs your help.” Madame Majestic revealed to the slayer who was shocked to learn she really was being haunted by Tristan. “Of course, I’ll help him!” Buffy declared to her. “I will do anything to help him…how can I help him?” Buffy was unsure whether or not she believed this psychic’s words not because she did not trust Willow’s recommendation but because she did not want to get her hopes up like she had so many times before when it came to Tristan but she knew she had to do whatever the psychic told her to do in order to potentially speak with her son once more and help him in any way she could.

After a short but seemingly long to her kind of day, Buffy Summers was now laid on her fully made bed within her bedroom in her San Francisco apartment, her eyes closed while she was deep in thought. She had been giving some herbs that was put in a tea that she had drank before going to her room after Willow ensured her what she was taking was not some hippie thing that’d make her go on some bad drug fueled trip. She just lay there with her eyes tightly shut, thinking of the son she lost, not daring to open her eyes or move in anyway, knowing that if she did before it was time then the psychic’s potion would not work. She laid there for what felt like forever until she almost found herself falling asleep when suddenly she was now stood next to the bed looking dazed and confused as she looked down at her own body, stunned that there was now two of her as she realized she was having some kind of magical out of body existence. “You know it is a whole lot spookier on this plane when you have a body to look at in the living realm.” Tristan declared, as Buffy turned around to see her son stood in front of her with a smile on his face. “Tristan…” Buffy replied softly, as she began to smile at the sight of her son, a sight she believed she may never have seen again. “It is nice to see you to mum!” Tristan said to her, shocking Buffy by calling her mum for the first genuine time. “But I am afraid to say this is not going to be a happy family reunion!”

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ao3feed-ghostbusters · 4 years ago

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by simplykrash

In which an 8 year old Jillian Holtzmann almost dies and visits the home of a lonely Erin Gilbert as her ‘imaginary friend’.

And then over 30 years later, they meet again.

'Jillian understands. “I like being your friend.” She steps into Erin’s arms, she can feel the warmth reaching out to meet her. As she closes her eyes, about to wrap her arms around Erin, the warmth is gone and then she’s cold.'

Words: 1673, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Ghostbusters (2016)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F

Characters: Erin Gilbert, Jillian Holtzmann

Relationships: Erin Gilbert/Jillian Holtzmann, Erin Gilbert & Jillian Holtzmann

Additional Tags: Sappy, Alternate Universe, its weird idk, they meet as kids but not really but they do, child jillian holtzmann and erin gilbert

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/39ogoUb

#ghostbusters #fanfic #ao3feed #iftt

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drjohndisco · 8 months ago

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not relevant to anything but phoebe's contact name in basil's phone is phoe-bee 🐝

#[f] ghostbusting kids tag #self ship

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sin-emberstalker · 5 years ago

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Get To Know Me.

Rules: Always post the rules. Tag 11 new people you’d like to know better.

1. Dogs or Cats?

Dogs, cat’s love me more actually I think it’s because I am 1000% indifferent to them and that pisses them off that I can out game them.

2. YouTube celebrities or normal celebrities?

None, don’t elevate people to some special station as they can’t ever be the thing in your head. It’s not fair to them and it has done a lot of harm to the general discourse of progress.

3. If you could live anywhere where would that be?

Cyprus, it is in my opinion the closest thing to what I gather most people think heaven is like. The progress the country has made to unite peacefully is inspiring.

4. Disney or DreamWorks?

Disney as Dreamworks is a studio built out of pure spite, but I respect the grift.

5. Favorite childhood TV show?

Pirates of Darkwater, TMNT(classic), Ghostbusters, Gargoyles, Batman the animated series and batman beyond.

6. The movie you’re looking forward to most in 2020?

I just can’t muster enthusiasm for movies lately, but it does mean I get surprised by some new stuff when it really impresses.

7. Favorite book you read in 2019?

The only books I have read this year are all RPG manuals and Linux guides. I feel bad but I just don’t have time to read like literature in a while. But I do make sure to read every night with the kids unless Niv is doing it.

8. Marvel or DC?

Marvel movies/ DC comics

9. If you choose Marvel favorite member of the X-Men? If you choose DC favorite Justice League member?

Marvel - Gambit/Ultimate Colossus (his story is just so god damn cute).

DC - Constantine/ Hal Jordan

10. Night or Day?

Night, i love to be awake when the rest of the world is sleeping (at least in my time zone)

11. Favorite Pokemon?

Honestly it’s Evee and all the variations, they are just all so god damn cute.

12. Top 5 bands:

Pink Floyd, Deftones, Wu Tang Clan, Coheed and Cambria, Tool

13. Top 10 books.

Invisible Man - Ralph Ellison

East of Eden - Steinbeck

Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte

The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald

The Waste Land - T.S. Eliot

Ring World - Larry Niven

Neuromancer Trilogy - William Gibson

Dune - Frank Herbet

The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath

The Foundation Trilogy - Issac Asimov

The Trial - Franz Kafka (Bonus addition)

14. Top 4 movies

The Big Labowski. Hellraiser I and II, A Clockwork Orange, The Wild Bunch

15. America or Europe?

I’ve spent enough time in both to know that the only way a place is valuable is the people we form bonds with and the spaces we share moments in.

16. Tumblr or Twitter?

Both but I don’t post a lot on twitter, but some of the freshest memes come from twitter. Tumblr is like a second home at times.

17. Pro-choice or Pro-life?

Pro-Choice.

18. Favourite YouTuber?

Noah Caldwell-Gervias - Best in depth game critique you will find, I even find all the early audio issues endearing.

19. Favorite author ?

T.S Eliot and Kafka are the two that changed my life and I mean that I was going to be a priest before I started to you know, question.

20. Tea or Coffee?

Coffee to amp and tea to chill.

21. OTP ?

Sinivaeh oh and @karidakdellanir @centoridellanir for life!

22. Do you play an instrument/sing ?

I used to play guitar and bass but I am so out of practice but I think a few minutes on the drop D I will find my space again.

tagged by @monster-of-master

tagging @prolificpoisons @crowsaerie-rp @fel-temptation @covexalexanderkingsley @valishoneybee @zaennicus @amorthonblackwood @waroftwowolves @aredhelvaltieri @seilune and anyone else!

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ao3feed-holtzbert · 4 years ago

Link

by blisscavendar

After Erin finds out that she's pregnant with Phil's baby, Holtzmann steps in to help her out. In the process, they both admit their feelings for each other.

Words: 6312, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of The Purpose of Life (Is To Love)

Fandoms: Ghostbusters (2016)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F

Characters: Erin Gilbert, Jillian Holtzmann, Abby Yates, Patty Tolan, Kevin Beckman, Rebecca Gorin, Erin Gilbert's Mother, Erin Gilbert's Father, Jillian Holtzmann's Mother

Relationships: Erin Gilbert/Jillian Holtzmann

Additional Tags: Kid Fic, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Getting Together, Fluff, Light Angst, Phil Is A Bit Of A Dick, Found Family, Unconventional Families

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3fjvgFr

#holtzbert #jillian holtzmann #erin gilbert #ghostbusters #fanfic #ao3feed #IFTTT

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all-hail-the-witcher · 6 years ago

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Soft but angst Ralbert where one of them has had a day that starts taking a toll on them emotionally, and when it all climaxes they start having a panic attack over something small like forgetting socks and someone else in the friend group snaps at them because “it’s just socks” and tells them to get it together and then the other half of the ship gets super protective of the one whose panicking and snaps at the friend who snapped and then helps the boyf??? Is that too complicated???

WELL WOULD YOU LOOK AT THATSAPH IS BACK WITH THE REQUESTSYEEEEET_________ship: ralberrtttttt what elsegenre: flangst, s o m f o r twarnings: Very Descriptive panic attack, shitty pet names, Finch is an asshole accidentallywords: like uhh 1200editing: i thinkst the fuckst not_________

There wasn't a single thing Race hated more than his brain. Why did it choose to freak out over the smallest, most trivial things? He didn't know. Why did it seek out dark corners to dwell upon? He also didn't know. Why did it choose to freak out at the worst possible time? You guessed it, he didn't know.

He strolled into rehearsal that morning, hand in hand with his boyfriend Albert, fully aware of the rocky state of his stomach and the fuzziness clouding his mind that he couldn't seem to shake. He had had woken up in a panic, feeling dangerously lightheaded after a nightmare that had left him on edge at three am, followed soon after by breaking a glass in the kitchen while eating breakfast which subsequently caused him and Albert to miss the subway, and when they did finally get on an older man had flipped him the finger after he leaned heavily onto Albert’s shoulder and planted a kiss on his cheek. Luckily, Albert had been occupied with something on his phone, and hadn’t noticed the tears that threatened to spill from Race’s eyes, otherwise he would be bandaging his knuckles in a walgreens bathroom right now.

Race forced himself to take a deep breath as he placed his bag down on the bench in the locker room, blocking out the deafening chatter around him as he slowly and deliberately pressed the pad of his thumb to each of his fingers, using his other hand to root around in his dance bag for a pair of socks, making sure to focus on his breathing as he-

Where were his socks?

He swore he had packed them.

Breathing forgotten, he navigated through the contents of his dance bag at random, pulling out stray shoes, shirts and a few plastic water bottles, until all of his belongings were strewn across the bench and the surrounding floor, no socks in sight.

His vision began to blur as he shoved the haphazard items back into his bag, some landing on the floor because of his trembling hands. Blinking hard and forcing himself to swallow the rising unnecessary panic in his throat, he stumbled over to where Albert was chatting with Finch as he pulled on his warm up clothes. Upon seeing Race approaching, he smiled brightly, an action that Race fought to return. He couldn't let Albert know he was slipping right now, it had been weeks since the last time this had happened and he had been doing so well.

“Hey broski, what's up?” Albert leaned against the wall casually, his signature smirk playing across his lips.

Race smiled shakily. “Do you, uh, have a pair of….socks i could borrow?” He ducked his head slightly, fighting against the tightness consuming his chest.

“Yeah, of course,” Albert said, turning his back to Race to dig through his bag. As he did so, Race began to feel his nerves lessen. He would make it through this, he would be okay, he would be-

“Jeez dude,” Finch said suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Don't lose your mind over it, it’s just a pair of damn socks.”

Race felt his breathing pick up again as he saw his hands visibly begin to shake in front of him. He knew he wasn't okay, he knew he was sinking, but it felt like he was experiencing it from an outside perspective and there was nothing he could do but stand there, rooted in place and let the all too familiar feeling of hopelessness and dread wash over him that came with an attack.

In a last attempt at sanity he felt his eyes flick up to Albert, who was just turning back around, a pair of socks in hand.

•••

“Finch, what the hell,” Albert hissed, dropping the socks he was holding and hurdling over the bench, focus trained on Race who was half slumped over, clutching his arms to his body as he shook violently.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“I don't wanna hear it,” Albert snapped loudly, lowering his voice significantly as he noticed Race’s recoil at his tone of voice. “Just go, okay? You’ve done enough damage.” He didn't look up, but the quick footsteps and bang of the door shutting indicated quite clearly that Finch had left.

“Hey dude,” Albert whispered softly, standing in front of Race. “Can you hear me?”

Race’s head moved in a tiny nod and Albert sighed in relief. At least it hadn’t gotten really bad yet, he could still pull him out.

“Think you can sit down?”

When Race failed to respond, Albert tried again. “I’ll do it with you, see?” Albert sat down slowly on the floor, watching as Race slowly followed, his shaking legs threatening to buckle, but making it to the ground all the same.

“Good, that’s good,” Albert praised, keeping his hands in his lap where Race could see them. “Can you look at me, Racer?”

Slowly, Race’s tear filled blue eyes lifted to meet Albert’s. They were glazed over, and darted away every few seconds, but he was still trying and Albert was immensely proud of him for that.

“Yes, just like that,” Albert smiled gently, keeping his voice low and steady despite the nerves that were seeking into his stomach. He hated seeing Race like this. “I need you to breathe with me, okay? Let’s take a nice big breath in…” He sucked the air in through his nose in an over exaggerated fashion, and Race followed with a much shakier one. “Good, now hold,” Albert directed, holding for four beats, watching Race carefully. “And blow out,” he said, expelling the air through his mouth. “Good, Racer, you’re doing great,” he assured, beginning the breathing process again.

As he guided Race through the measured breaths, he let his mind wander. How had he not noticed Race was slipping? Sure it had been a few weeks since his last panic attack, and he’d been making good progress, but he should have picked up on the signs, then maybe Race wouldn’t be struggling to breathe right now, maybe-

“Al…?”

Albert was ripped suddenly from his thoughts by a soft, unsteady voice.

“Yes?”

Race twisted his hands in his lap for a second before opening his arms sheepishly, his quiet voice barely heard above the music seeping in from the studio. “Hug?”

“Of course, I got you cupcake.” Albert gently pulled Race into his lap, beginning to rub gentle circles into the back of his hands as he hummed quietly.

“I’m safe, right?” Race muttered into Albert’s shoulder after several more long minutes of calming breaths.

“Yes, you’re safe,” Albert assured, running his fingers through Races hair. “You’re okay. I’m okay. We’re okay. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“Okay,” Race mumbled, yawning slightly.

“You can rest. I got you.” Albert said, shifting into a more comfortable position as Race began to nod off.

“I love you,” Race whispered tiredly as his eyes began to fall closed.

“I love you too cupcake,” Albert smiled fondly. It didn’t matter to him that Race had had an attack. All that mattered was that he was okay, and he would be there for him next time.

__________

kfjdjsja i lov writing comfort it’s such a yeethuuu thanks mikey for cupcake ;)I guess the writing is Back so if anyone’s got a request shove it in the ask box and I’ll try to get to itfeedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the tag list

tag list@fairly-awkward-trashcan@well-the-kids-do-too@racetrackcook@bouncyscreamingnewsboys@ughwaitwhat@aw-jus-let-em-try@ben-cook-can-cook@the-woild-is-my-what-now@tommy-s-s0cks@voice-foundshoe-lost@galaxy-tree@stopthe-presses@ridin-in-style@pinecovewoods@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing@bencookisagod@be-more-chill-evan-hansen@hellasoulless@stellar-alpaca@saxoph-ella@smolcanadiankid@disney-princess-sized@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog@insane-tomato@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn@have-we-got-news-for-you@thatfancyclam@myidkwhatmynameisblog@legoflambwrites@that-one-newskid@not-a-scab@albertdasillva@entschuldigung-bitches@thebroadwayaesthetic@tea-and-theater@thomasbeingthomas@seasickdolphin@auspicioustarantula@newsies-of-ny@mrs-higgins@sunshine-e-cigarettes @spot-me50-papes @santafe-cafe@papesdontsellthemselves@king-of-new-yoirk@deathcast-s@the-poodles-of-pulitzer@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters

#saphie scribbles #ralbert #fjdjaksjcjal #I forgot how much Fun writing is #I say #as I procrastinate a fuck ton of work #o well #cupcake #racetrack Higgins #Albert dasilva #Newsies fic #saph is Back y’all

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