#(but I might have to wait until after Christmas break)

[guinevereslancelot]

starting to kind of date someone right before christmas is so stressful fr. do i get him a gift or what we've been on two dates but i'm seeing him tonight n it's christmas eve.....but what if he didn't get me anything then it will be weird.....

[chainreh]

tomori's birthday is 22nd November for context.

put in the tags what you think the event will be if you want

[silver-blooded-synthetics]

OOC: stuck at school with nothing to do for the next 3 hours. Send asks?

[notyourjaem]

HOMETOWN ★ L. DONGHYUCK + N. JAEMIN

★ PAIRING: collegestudent!female x roommates!hyuck & jaem

★ GENRE: friends with benefits, college (they're students; its mentioned briefly), threesome, NSFW

★ SUMMARY: coming back to your hometown for holiday break isn't always the best, but good thing you know some guys that are always glad to see you.

★ WORD COUNT: 2.0k

★ CONTENT/WARNINGS: hyuck is a business major, jaemin is an engineering major, tongue kissing, fingering, nipple sucking, finger sucking, multiple orgasms, dirty talking, jaemin is NASTY, teeny praise kink, hyuck is called sir as somewhat of a joke but he might like it, oral (m + f receiving, throat fucking, cum swallowing, some hints of aftercare cause yk!! oh god I think that is all.

★ AUTHORS NOTE: okay...here it is. my nct fic debut! this is supposed to be based around christmas break from university, but I dont think the window for these fics is closed just yet. sorry that i have to make everyone an engineering major because everything is about me! a big thank you to @jenoslutie for encouraging me to come over to the dark side & for betaing as well as @lovetaroandtaemin for betaing 💝

“I thought you’d never call me.” You threw your purse down onto the nearest chair in Donghyuck’s apartment as you crossed the threshold. “Hey, did you get new neighbors?”

Donghyuck shut the door before facing you. “No, they’re the same as before. Why wouldn’t I call you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you were busy.” You answered, the both of you stepping over to the living room couch.

“Sweetheart, did you forget it’s finals week?” Donghyuck asked you before sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. “Not all of us went away to school.”

“Hey, listen.” You adjusted yourself on him, doing your best to ignore the bulge of his that was now against your core. Harder said than done. “You’re a business major. Almost graduated. How hard can it be?”

“Tell me you missed me.” You pulled away from Donghyuck, feeling breathless.

“I missed you. Fuck, I missed you.” A hint of desperation could be heard in his voice as he pulled you back; the kiss was sloppy.

He let out a whimper as you were practically rutting your hips into him to feel any friction. Then, both of his hands moved down to grip your hips, grinding you against him.

“Hyuck.” You blurted out. “Wait.”

Donghyuck pulled away, watching you attentively as you gripped the bottom hem of your t-shirt. Albeit rather smug, you pulled it over your head and threw it on the couch next to Donghyuck’s lap.

You tousled your hair as he swore under his breath. “Fuck.”

Donghyuck moved his hands to touch you, before you stopped him. “Say please.” You tried to kiss him again but he pulled away, groaning in frustration.

“Come on, don’t do this to me.”

“Don’t do this to me.” A mocking voice suddenly interrupted the both of you. You looked over your shoulder to see Donghyuck’s roommate Jaemin had entered the room.

“Shut up.” Donghyuck sighed at his roommate's antics before giving his attention back to you.

“I see you started without me. I thought I said to wait until after I took my final.” Jaemin spoke as he removed his coat.

“I forgot.” Donghyuck responded.

“Yeah. I’ll remember that next time.” Jaemin spoke before coming behind you, wrapping his arms around you over your shoulders. “How’s my girl?”

You smirked before turning your head to kiss him. As soon as you did so, Donghyuck was tracing your left nipple with his thumb before giving it a slight pinch.

Letting out a moan against Jaemin’s mouth, he pulled away; his face mere centimeters from yours. “Miss me?”

Stupid question.

You nodded, biting down onto your bottom lip as Jaemin’s hand replaced Donghyuck’s.

“Missed both of you, honestly.” You sighed, looking at Donghyuck before he leaned forwards slightly, and then his warm mouth was around your right nipple; his wet tongue swirling around the swollen bud. You couldn’t help but let out a gasp; one of your hands tangled in his hair to keep him there.

“You did?” Jaemin spoke in a slightly condescending tone that was almost like he was teasing you for being so needy all of a sudden.

You nodded, looking up at Jaemin as he stood over you. Donghyuck must have caught it because he smirked, making his teeth scrape against your skin a little bit.

You winced, but it wasn’t out of pain. It was out of frustration. Donghyuck pulled away slightly to kiss your chest and near your collarbone; leaving a trail of wet red marks in his path.

“Dying to be touched aren’t you…” Jaemin mumbled to you like he was reading your mind.

“Please.” You whimpered, looking up at him to give him a pouty look that made you always get your way.

Donghyuck sighed, and leaned back onto the couch when you lifted your hips slightly. The space allowed Jaemin to slip his hand into the front of your pants, using the pads of his middle and ring finger to press against your clit, slowly rubbing in a circular motion.

An audible whine escaped your mouth, and you caught Donghyuck trying to maintain his composure.

“All this for us? Holy fuck…” Jaemin swore, before slipping his middle finger into you. You could already hear how wet you were, nobody had to say it.

“Mhm. All for you.” You leaned into Jaemin, but wanted so much more.

“Hyuck, stretch me out. Please.”

“Fuck, you have a dirty mouth, you know that?” Donghyuck swore, adjusting your pants so that he could fit his hand. For the time being, Jaemin moved his hand out of the way.

“And you love it.” Your cockiness only lasted about 5 seconds before Donghyuck slipped two fingers into your core; making you cry out. Donghyuck gasped at the fact that Jaemin was right. You were absolutely gushing.

“I seriously don’t know why you still have these on.” Jaemin spoke before pulling down your pants even more. “That’s much better.”

Jaemin softly kissed the top of your head before Donghyuck’s fingers curled inside of you while he fingered you, hitting your sweet spot perfectly.

“Fuck!” You sounded pathetic. “I’ll cum, I'm gonna cum.”

Donghyuck scoffed. “That’s the point, come on, give it to me.”

Jaemin’s hand snuck down between your legs again, stimulating your clit while Donghyuck’s fingers were inside of you still. Your legs were starting to tingle and tears began to form at the corners of your eyes until you finally came.

“Yeah…good girl.” Donghyuck praised you before popping his fingers in his mouth.

“God, you need to be fucked don’t you?” Jaemin’s voice was directly in your ear, and you nodded; still coming down from your high.

There was movement, and then you found yourself thrown over Jaemin’s shoulder and brought to his room. Your back hit the plush material of his comforter before your pants were finally completely gone, along with your underwear.

Jaemin hooked his hands behind your knees, pushing them back. You sucked in a breath as you suddenly remembered that Donghyuck was in the room with you both. Jaemin was probably thinking in his head about everything he’d do if his roommate wasn’t here.

“You’re so pretty…” Jaemin suddenly muttered; mostly to himself. He eased his grip on your legs, leaning down to place open mouthed kisses on one of your inner thighs.

You slightly lost sight of him after his necklace brushed against your leg and you felt his hot breath on your cunt.

“Jaemin I swear to fucking–” you didn’t get to finish your sentence before you felt his hot tongue against your clit, flicking the swollen bud. “Oh my god. Fuck. Oh my god.”

One of Jaemin’s hands rested near your hip to keep you still, then the other slipped two fingers into your hole. He was lapping up your juices like his life depended on it; the noises that you were hearing were nothing shy of obscene.

Jaemin moaned into your cunt, making you card your fingers through his hair. You grabbed a hold of the dark strands, pushing him down slightly. His nose bumped against your clit, emitting a whimper from you.

Finally, Jaemin pulled away, kissing the skin right near your folds before speaking. “Can’t cum yet, princess. Nobody fucked you yet.”

“He’s right. Get on your knees.” Donghyuck spoke suddenly.

“Yes, sir.” You answered, somewhat as a joke.

You changed your position on Jaemin’s bed, facing your back to him, and arching your ass up.

Hearing movement and clothes rustling behind you, you moved your knees apart a little bit more.

Donghyuck’s cock was painfully hard by now, as he moaned when he stroked himself a few times before positioning his tip at your entrance.

Jaemin was in front of you, his underwear lowered just enough to free his cock.

“Go slow, Hyuck.” You asked, within perfect timing of him pushing himself inside of you. However, painfully slow for you to feel the drag of his cock against your walls.

Your head dropped towards the bed and you grabbed a hold of the comforter below you with your right hand. “Fuck, oh my god.”

“You said slow.” Donghyuck spoke, fingertips gripping your hips so hard he was going to leave marks.

You finally lifted your head to look at Jaemin, who was already watching you.

“You look so pretty when you’re taking cock, you know?” His words alone made you whimper and involuntarily clench around Donghyuck.

Jaemin had a smile on his face as Donghyuck started fucking into you; your cunt already making a squelching sound.

“You like when I talk to you like that?” He asked, tapping his thumb along your bottom lip. Instinctively, you opened your mouth slightly, sucking the digit in as if it was his cock.

Jaemin released his thumb from your mouth with a pop, which you then stuck out your tongue for his cock.

“Fuck.” He swore. “I don’t even have to tell you what to do.”

A moan escaped your lips as Donghyuck suddenly pulled your hips back to meet him, slamming his entire cock inside of you at once.

Jaemin slapped his cockhead against your tongue a few times, making you taste the saltiness of the precum that was leaking from the tip. You took over soon after, hollowing your cheeks and sucking in as much of him as you could before you pulled away to get a breath.

Behind you, Donghyuck snuck one of his hands between your legs as two of his fingers gave pressure and friction to your clit. You nearly cried out; all of the stimulation at once almost too much.

“Fuck, she’s so sensitive.” Donghyuck swore to himself.

“Fuck my mouth.” You were finally able to get the words out to Jaemin; though somewhat of a whine.

“Yeah?” He was leaning down to you again. “You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours?”

“Yes!” You nearly choked on your words. “Please!”

“There it is.” Jaemin felt some sort of satisfaction from hearing you utter the word ‘please.’ It’s not like he wouldn’t have done it anyways.

Jaemin positioned himself in front of you, holding your head as he slowly pushed his cock in your mouth until he hit the back of your throat.

He was going easy on you, until he picked up the pace. It felt like he was trying to match Donghyuck’s pattern behind you. Surely it didn’t take him long, all while you were turning into a drooling mess.

“Fucking hell, look at you creaming all over my cock.” Donghyuck slowed down his pace, gripping your ass cheeks in his hands to give himself a view that would surely have you shy; but not today.

You gagged on Jaemin’s cock, making him pull away from you slightly. A mess of saliva and precum smeared your lips and chin.

Using your saliva as lubricant, you steadied yourself with one of your hands and used the other to slowly stroke his length; paying close attention to his tip. You noticed Jaemin’s breathing was erratic, and his brows furrowed.

“Fuck. I’m close, im fucking close.” Jaemin swore, nearly panting. “Oh my fuck.”

“Me too, shit.” Donghyuck grabbed your hips as you pushed yourself back onto him.

“Both of you, in my mouth.” You finally spoke, then looked up at Jaemin that was in front of you. The way that you said it so casually caught him off guard.

“You’re something else. Get on the floor.”

With a smirk on your face, you happily got on your knees on the plush carpet below. Soon the two of them were hovering over you, making you stick your tongue out to anticipate both of their releases. It was Donghyuck to finish first, and Jaemin was seconds later.

“Fuck, so messy.” Donghyuck remarked, watching you lick some of his own cum off of your fingers while he came down from his own high.

“When do your classes start again?” You asked as Jaemin grabbed you a small towel to clean up.

“Like…two weeks.” Donghyuck answered, sort of unsure why you were asking.

“So what do you say like…same time next week?”

[authorhjk1]

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas

(Yeri X Male Reader)

"We can't do this here."

"Why not?"

"Because we're in public."

"So? I'm really needy right now. Please? You look so good in this..."

Your wife lets her hands travel down your upper body, while she appreciates your perfectly tailored suit.

"Your little event here ended 10 minutes ago. The girls might already be looking for you. This can wait, until we get home."

"Admit it. You love the way I look right now, don't you?"

"Yeri..."

She wraps her arms around you, pressing herself against you. Her head is at the same hight as your chest as she looks up at you.

"This tight dress... Showing off my shoulders... Hugging my ass... And it's so short, you wouldn't even have to take it off."

"When we're home."

Yeri shakes her head, her knowing smile never leaves her lips.

"I know you want me. You're just playing the good husband right now."

"Even if that's true, what are you gonna do about it?"

One of her hands moves to your crotch as you speak.

"Come on, you must be so turned on right now, watching your wife in this tight dress, right? I bet you'll get even harder when I tell you this:"

Yeri gets on her tiptoes and you instinctively wrap your hands around her waist.

"I have no panties on."

She knows you too well. You were already a lost cause when you first saw her in that dress earlier today. And now, she's doing her best to seduce you. The little resistance you have left is quickly crumbling.

"We have to be at your parent's by seven."

It's the last card you can play.

Yeri takes your hand off her waist and twists your arm. Your watch says 5:30.

"30 minutes are more than enough for you to fuck me."

She kisses your cheek, lingering bear your face a little too long.

"Hard."

You feel Yeri just barely rubbing herself against your crotch. No one around you notices, but it's affective.

Without a word, you grab her wrist and lead her towards the nearest store. You walk past row after row of clothes, looking for the dressing rooms. Just when you see them in the distance, Yeri unexpectedly pins you against the wall. You're surprised by her sudden aggression. Otherwise, she'd never be strong enough to handle you like that.

"I'm just so desperate right now. I can't wait a second longer."

Yeri presses her lips on yours, locking you into a heated kiss. You instinctively place your hands on her ass, enjoying the way it feels under the dress. Yeri's own hands are in your hair, trying to pull you down a little.

When the two of you break away for air, Yeri's eyes sparkle with amusement.

"Six years of sex every day and I'm still addicted to your cock."

She kisses you once more, giving you no time to reply. Then, she teasingly bites your lower lip, making you flinch.

"I want it."

She whispers against your lips.

"Right now."

Her hands run along your body as your wife gets on her knees in the middle of the store.

You're glad there's a wall behind you and you're otherwise surrounded by clothes racks. No one will be able to see Yeri as long as they don't come to close.

Your pants are quickly lying on the floor and Yeri pulls down your underwear as well.

"Why do you always have to wear suits? You look so hot in them."

She talks while taking your cock into her hand.

"Just be quick."

You groan, not wanting to get caught. She's still an idol after all.

Yeri wraps her lips around your tips and then works her way down your length. She struggled with it the first couple times, but after six years together, your wife knows how to give you head.

You lean against the wall behind you as she works your cock, taking most of it into her mouth, while stroking the base with her hand.

Looking around, you see two employees and five customers. None of them seem to be interested in you. Even when Yeri starts to get louder. Some women brag about not having a gag reflex, your wife is the opposite. Hearing her choke on your length makes you rock hard every single time, but it turns her on even more. She loves sucking you off, because you enjoy it so much. The way you groan, the way a hand reaches for the back of her head, the way you sometimes start to thrust into her mouth, the way you say her name... It all makes her happy.

You feel yourself slowly gliding down the wall as your legs become weaker. Yeri knows all the tricks in the book by now, which makes it hard to last long, when she's really going for it.

Her head is bobbing up and down on your cock, coating it with her saliva. Her gags make you look around, whenever her lips reach your base, afraid that someone will hear.

"You're amazing, Yeri."

You sigh as your wife sucks you off in the middle of the store.

Only two minutes later, the two of you reach the dressing rooms. Now it's your turn to pin her against the wall. Letting your pants fall to the floor again, you reach under her dress.

"You feel how wet I am for you, baby? I need it so bad."

Yeri voices her need as your arm pushes up the hem of her dress on accident as you let your fingers wander through her folds, occasionally dipping a finger inside.

Without even having to take the dress off, you wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her lower body a little closer, before pushing your cock into her. Yeri moans out, amazed at how good it feels every single time. You quickly start thrusting into her, not intending to go slow at all.

Yeri soon becomes louder, almost screaming your name. You have to put your hand over her mouth, so the two of you don't get kicked out. As you keep fucking her from behind, you feel how her warm pussy clenches down around your cock. She squeezes you hard, her walls trying to make you cum as quick as possible.

"Your cock is filling me up so good."

You can still hear her, even through your hand.

"Keep nailing me against the wall. Just like that."

You bury your face in Yeri's neck, licking and sucking on her skin. It's her last schedule for the year and your marriage has been confirmed by her company for three years now. You don't care if you bruise her skin or not. Actually, you'd prefer it if you leave a mark.

"Fuck me harder. Punish me for being such a slut for your cock."

You do as she asks, wrapping your arms tightly around her slim frame. Looking down on her, you take in the gorgeous view of her cleavage. Taking her body like you own it, you keep plowing her from behind, probably making the employees outside aware of the two of you.

Your hands soon wander to her tits, quickly pulling the dress and the bra down a little. Having her tits played with makes Yeri's pussy squeeze around you even harder. Her juices are coating your cock by now as you bottom out inside of her with every thrust.

"Do it."

Her moan desperate.

"Choke me."

This is very aggressive, even for Yeri most of the time. But you don't mind at all. One hand wraps around her throat, giving her a light squeeze.

"Yes, ruin me. Ruin your little slut."

You growl into her ear in response, tightening your grip on her throat and on her tits.

Soon, you hear her trying to speak again, but the words come out weak.

"I-I'm gonna-gonna cum."

Your hand moves from her throat to her mouth within a heart beat, but you're still almost too late.

Yeri shakes, her body quivering, her legs almost giving out. She screams your name into your hand as her pussy contracts around you. But you don't stop fucking her. You keep pounding her through there orgasm, until Yeri starts talking again.

"Fill me up, baby. Cum in me. Please."

She can tell you're close as well.

You press your wife against the changing room's wall as you dump your cum as deep inside of her as possible. Another tiny orgasm rushes through Yeri as her body welcomes your familiar load.

"Wow."

She says as you lie your head on her shoulder.

"We should go out more often."

You catch her smiling into the wall and you kiss her slightly read cheeks, while the two of you catch your breaths.

Leaning over the bed, you carefully close the book you were reading from.

"Good night, princess."

You whisper, before kissing your sleeping daughter's forehead. You carefully leave the room, turning off the lights in the process. The three year old girl was so happy to be sleeping at her grandparent's place, that it was hard for you to get her to sleep.

Now you're entering the living room, after passing Yeri's parent's bedroom. You see her sitting on the sofa in one of your pullovers, hugging a cup of hot chocolate.

You sit down next to her and lie an arm around her. For a moment, it looks like she's lost in her own thoughts. But when she feels you next to her, Yeri smiles at you.

"Thank you for putting her to sleep. I have to show you something."

Her eyes sparkle with happiness as she reaches next to herself on the sofa.

"I took this while you were reading her the bedtime story."

Yeri is holding up a pregnancy test.

"I'm pregnant again."

You capture your wife's lips with yours, a million butterflies exploding in your stomach.

"I love you so much."

You whisper into her mouth, not able to break away from the kiss. Yeri puts down the cup and the test without looking and slings her arms around you. You lean in further, eventually making the two of you fall on the sofa with you on top.

Yeri instinctively reaches down, tugging at your pants. The fact that she is carrying another one of your children makes her long for your warmth even more.

A couple of moments later, you still lie on top of her, thrusting inti your wife with shallow and soft strokes. This isn't the crazy sex scene the two of you had a couple of hours ago. That was pure lust. This is love. The love you have for your wife. The love your wife has for you.

"Merry Christmas, I guess."

You whisper into her ear as you make her gasp in pleasure.

"Marry Christmas, baby."

-----------

Merry Christmas, everyone!

By now, this will probably come out a little late, but I hope you guys can still enjoy it. Just a short Christmas present from me to you, guys.

Stay healthy!

[lovebugism]

hi bug! can I please request the dialogue prompt “Hold up, she said what?” with steve and shy!reader? maybe she is robin’s friend and robin tells steve something reader said (maybe that she thinks steve is cute or nice or something of the sort), and it leads to a cute conversation between the two?

ty for requesting angel!! — steve finds out the cute girl at the record store likes him and decides to bring her ice cream as a proclamation of love (shy!fem!reader, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, 2.3k)

blurbcember ⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄

“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve interjects suddenly, a metal scoop in his hand and a wild look in his eye. “She said what?”

Robin fumbles with the metal tub of Peppermint-Chip ice cream she’s refilling. It clangs when she drops it into place with haphazard care. The shop goes unusually silent without her rambling to fill the dead air. Holly, Jolly Christmas crackles quietly from the broken speakers overhead.

The girl blinks at him with a wide ocean gaze. Her rogue-tinted mouth falls softly agape. She knows she’s said the wrong thing, but she can’t remember what.

“...Huh?”

“What’d you just say?”

Her doe eyes flit to the left for a moment. It takes her a second or more to recall the words she’d only just said. She does this thing sometimes where she rambles on and on about nothing, and Steve was the first person in the whole world to let her. So it’s way too easy for her to tell him a billion things at once and forget about all of them a second later.

“That the music store just got new cassettes in?” Robin answers, her gritty voice a few octaves higher than usual.

Steve nods slow and with a crooked grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth. He rests his elbow on the glass case above the ice cream and eggs her on. “After that?”

“…That you and the pretty new girl that works there have the same taste in music?”

“Before that.”

“That she said she wanted to show you the new tapes,” she says, wincing with the realization that she had, in fact, said the wrong thing. A secret she swore not to tell has just spilled from her lips without her even knowing it.

“And?” Steve lilts with a wider, rosier smile.

“Because she likes you…” Robin confesses (or rather, re-confesses) with her teeth gritted.

Even though Steve had heard her perfectly the first time, hearing it the second makes his heart skip a beat. The pulsing organ lurches into his throat. He almost forgets how to breathe.

“She likes me?” he repeats, mostly whispering, with an incredulous gape of shock. His bushy brows raise until his forehead wrinkles. His eyes go wide until the honey of them starts to glimmer.

Despite her best friend’s lovesick disposition, Robin’s freckled face hardens. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” she rumbles like a storm cloud, knocking her shoulder against his when she walks by him.

“Why?” Steve retorts like a child, following behind her just the same. 

He nearly bumps into her when she stops short at the deep freezer. She returns the cloth mits she carried the ice cream in with after spending her whole break organizing the case by color. Steve could never even be bothered to put the damn things back where they belonged in the first place.

“Because I swore to her I wouldn’t,” Robin agonizes, then whips around to face him again. Her features are twisted like a hurt puppy as she pleads. “Don’t tell her I said anything either, okay? She’ll hate me.”

Steve wasn’t planning on it. Not because he thought it might make you hate her, though. He’s not entirely sure you’re capable of that. 

He’s only known you for a few months — ever since the leaves started changing color and people traded their ice cream cones for cool music at the new record store. He spent half that time admiring you across the landing, but you’ve never been anything but gentle with him. You were soft, with a soul of sunshine. 

He didn’t know it was possible to be made of sunlight until he met you.

“Well, did you tell her I liked her back?” he presses, hoping Robin might’ve done some of the hard work for him.

Her face screws up like she’s tasted something sour. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I promised you I wouldn’t.”

Steve shoots her a deadpanned look.

Robin caves. 

“It’s not like I meant to tell you she liked you just now, okay? It just came out!” she explains, gesturing wildly with her hands. “Maybe next time I stick my foot in my mouth around the new girl, I’ll tell her that you’re obsessed with her, and the two of you can finally start dating instead of making sex eyes at each other all the time.”

He wouldn’t put that past her. Robin the Mastermind, Robin the Blabbermouth, Robin the Matchmaker. But his fluttering heart is pumping with too much adrenaline now. He feels like he could move mountains with the knowledge of your affections — knowing that all his own big, fuzzy, suffocating feelings have been reciprocated all this time.

If he doesn’t talk to you now, he’s scared he’ll never work up this kind of courage again.

“No. Screw that,” he concludes with a shake of his head. He’s in King Steve mode now — feeling half as suave as he used to back when the whole town was falling at his feet — chest puffed and ego reeling. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

Robin watches, dumbfounded, as he dumps a scoop of their best-selling ice cream into a paper bowl. Another tub she’ll have to refill. Steve ducks under the counter door and heads for the exit. “Wait— what am I supposed to do?” the girl shouts across the empty store.

Now out in the bustling Starcourt mall and taking short strides towards the music store, Steve spins on his heel to face her. He shrugs and readjusts the sailor’s cap on his head. “Wait for me to get back.”

—————

You’ve been banished to the back of the store.

Not exactly. But that’s what it feels like.

You got a bit too overwhelmed working the front counter, and since Eddie’s crazy soft on you, he let you put up all the Christmas decorations he’d been putting off instead. It’s a win-win situation, really. 

You’re stringing up sparkling tinsel over the rows of records when a deep blue sailor’s uniform catches your eye. Looking over your shoulder, you find Steve in all his glorysauntering towards you. He’s wearing shorts even though it’s basically winter now in Indiana. He’s beaming at you like sunshine anyway.

Beneath the amber glow of the dimly lit store, he looks borderline angelic. Almost unfairly ethereal.

“What’s that?” you wonder with a smile you don’t even know is there, nodding to the Scoops Ahoy brandedcup in his hand. 

You can almost smell the syrup-cinnamon concoction of the ice cream he holds in his palm. Or maybe that’s just Steve, and the sugary sweetness is radiating from his pores after working in a confectionary shop during the holidays.

He looks at you even sweeter.

“New flavor,” he answers vaguely, smirking as he leans against the metal shelves. He stumbles slightly when it rocks beneath his weight. “Oops. Sorry. It’s, uh— It’s pancake chunks with maple syrup swirl. I call it Wake and Bake.” 

A giggle tumbles from your lips when he hands it to you. “Eddie’s gonna love that,” you murmur.

“Well, it’s actually called Breakfast in Bed, but— I don’t know— I thought my idea was better.”

“Way better,” you concur with a nod and a pretty smile.

Steve watches with attentive honey eyes as you spoon a bite into your mouth. He feels a bit like it’ll be his fault if you hate it. His irrational need to impress you always makes him feel hopelessly inadequate. 

“Woah,” you hum without your mouth still a little full. The cream melts softly on your tongue, tasting of a sweet and early morning. “This is really good.”

His brows raise, and his eyes widen. “Yeah?” he wonders. Your words wash over him like a compliment for a reason he can’t name. It feels good to make you feel good.

“Mhmm. I might have to come by after work and buy the rest of it, actually,” you joke with a curt shrug. It’s a feeble confession — your way of telling him that you want to see him more because you could never say the real thing out loud.

Your heart sinks when Steve shakes his head. Then swells when he smiles.

“No way,” he scoffs, lips curling into a lopsided grin. “I’m not gonna let you pay for it— that’s crazy.”

“You can’t keep giving me free ice cream, Steve—”

“What my manager doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he lilts lowly and with a cool shrug that makes you melt. He goes very distinctly soft when he looks at you, all scruffy-faced and sweet-eyed. 

It’s suffocatingly beautiful. You crack under the pressure of it. 

“Well, uh— Thanks for the— ice cream,” you stammer and motion the bowl back to him. Thanks for stopping by and keeping me company, but you’re too pretty and I’m not sure how much longer I can take it, you don’t say.

“You don’t want the rest?” he asks with pinched brows.

“I just… should probably get back to work, you know?”

“Eddie doesn’t let you take breaks?”

“No, he does,” you answer quickly, shifting your weight on your feet. It becomes virtually impossible to meet his gaze. “Just not with…”

Steve’s brows raise when you trail off. “Not with me?” he finishes with a laugh.

“Well, not with the… pretty-boy-ice-cream-slinger in the sailor’s uniform,” you correct, then quickly follow. “His words. Not mine.”

In all honesty, Steve couldn’t care less about what Eddie Munson has to say about him. If Hawkins’s local freak is the only thing standing between him and the pretty girl at the music store, he’s down to break a couple of dumb rules.

He takes a small step towards you. His pink smirk widens. You swear your heart stops when he looks at you with it. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” he teases with a twinkle in his squinted eye.

Suddenly, there’s a frog in your throat and you’re fourteen all over again. You’re flustered and drowning and totally unsure of yourself. “I didn’t say that,” you mutter, gaze flittering and smile wavering.

Steve goes to rest his elbow on the shelf again, then remembers its unsteadiness and decides against it. His arm rests awkwardly in the air for half a moment before he crosses both of them over his chest. 

“Well, I mean, you didn’t not say it, so…”

You squint up at him, busying your clammy hands with the melting ice cream in your palm. You know what he’s fishing for. Your pride urges you to stay silent even though your heart sings the sweetest songs for him. 

“You know you’re pretty, Steve,” you murmur matter of factly.

“But do you think I’m pretty?”

Your thundering heart lurches into your throat when Steve takes another small step closer. He smells like wintertime — like Christmas and nostalgia and boy. You don’t trust your voice to answer him verbally, so you nod, slow and sheepish.

“Good,” he hums with a beam he couldn’t hide if he tried. “‘Cause I think you’re pretty, too.”

Your chest gets all sparkly at his admission — the affirmation that all your girlish feelings are being reciprocated by a boy you never dreamed you could have. You don’t feel hardly deserving of the fondness dripping from his features, but you pray he never stops looking at you with it.

You grow warm with the irrational hope that he might kiss you. You think he might actually kiss you until your boss’s voice pierces the golden bubble of puppy love the both of you are basking in.

“How’s the decorating going?” Eddie announces himself, appearing suddenly between the two aisles.

Robin idles at his side. She’s in the feminine version of Steve’s sailor outfit — with silver chains around her neck and bandaids on her knees. Effortlessly endearing and totally unaware of it all.

You push Steve away from you without thinking, all but shoving the softening ice cream into his chest. Some of it smears white against the scarlet tie around his chest. “Sorry!” you exclaim in your moment of fleeting panic, then turn to Eddie with the same apologetic wince. “Sorry…” you repeat quieter.

“Robin?” Steve gapes at the sight of his best friend — apparently the second thing standing in his way, right beside the freak. “What the hell are you doing here— did you tattle on me? What are you, four?”

“I got lonely,” the brunette answers plainly. “And I knew you were around here somewhere, so I asked Eddie where you were—” She waves a pale hand your way, fingers painted with chipping maroon polish.  “—And now I’m here.”

Eddie grins wide and tilts his wild head to his shoulder. “Yeah. Can’t believe you’re trying to taint my one good employee, Steven.”

“I’m not tainting anybody, Munson,” he bites back like a bickering brother, then screws up his face and turns to Robin. “Wait. If you’re here, who’s manning the counter?”

Her freckled face falls like a child caught in a fib. Her deep blue eyes widen when she blinks at him. In a mousier voice, she confesses, “Dustin came by… And I told him he could eat all the ice cream he wanted as long as he made sure no one stole anything.”

The four of you fall silent. The soft rock of Christmas Wrapping plays weakly from the radio at the front of the store. Eddie breaks first. ‘Cause he can’t ever be serious about anything. 

The boyish sound of his laughter sends a giggle sputtering from your lips. The pretty noise makes Steve smile despite his baffled disbelief.

He turns to you with a dumbfounded grin. “You’re still stopping by after work, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer softly, nodding as your smiling face grows hot.

Eddie scoffs when Steve walks by him. “If you still have a job by then.”

[oaksgrove]

A Life Left Behind

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x ex!Reader, John Price x Reader

Synopsis: When Price accidentally lets it slip at a pub that he has a missus waiting at home, Simon never suspects it could be you. That is, until a snowy Christmas Eve, when fate leads him past a warmly lit window, where the life he could’ve had reveals itself in full, devastating clarity.

Warnings: Heavy angst, themes of regret and break up, bittersweet holiday vibes.

Word Count: 1214

a/n: I’ve had this idea swirling in my head for a while—it’s pure heartbreak with a festive backdrop. English isn’t my first language, and this was witten in a rush, so thank you for your patience and all the support on my writing!

Manchester, UK. october | 9:20PM | 8°C

The vanilla scent of your favorite candle hung in the air, bittersweet against the tension suffocating the room. It reminded Simon of softer nights—of the evenings you spent curled together on the couch, your laughter filling the silence he’d grown so accustomed to before you. The thought was fleeting, a warm ember snuffed out by the cold reality that now stood between you.

You stood by the kitchen counter, arms crossed defensively, your eyes a mix of anger and hurt. Simon loomed near the window, his shoulders hunched as though bracing himself for a blow.

“Say something, Simon,” you demanded, your voice raw with emotion. “Anything.”

He didn’t move at first, his gaze fixed on the street outside. His jaw tightened, the cords of muscle twitching under his skin. “What do you want me to say?” he finally asked, his voice low, restrained—like he was holding back a flood.

You stepped closer, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I want you to tell me this isn’t real. That you don’t mean it when you say it’s better if we break up.”

For a moment, his mask slipped. The conflict in his eyes was like a storm on the horizon—rage, sadness, and guilt all warring beneath the surface. Then he shut it down, closing himself off again. “It is better,” he said, his voice faltering before he hardened it.

“For who, Simon?” Your voice cracked, frustration mingling with the ache in your chest. “Because it sure as hell isn’t for me.”

“For you,” he replied, firmer this time. “You deserve someone who can give you more than this—more than me.”

You could only stare at him, disbelief giving way to anger. “You don’t get to decide that for me! I knew what I was getting into, and I’m here, Simon. I chose you!”

His hand went to the back of his neck, a frustrated gesture you’d seen countless times. “I can’t keep doing this to you,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t see it now, but you’ll be better off without me.”

Your mind flooded with memories—of Simon’s quiet presence grounding you after bad days, of his rare, unguarded moments of laughter that felt like secrets shared just between the two of you. The way he would silently slip your favorite mug into your hands during cold mornings, the weight of his arm around you as you fell asleep.

“Do you even hear yourself?” you whispered, desperation creeping into your voice. “You’re pushing me away because you think it’s what’s best for me? You’re not even giving me a choice.”

His silence was deafening, his eyes locked on the floor like he couldn’t bear to meet your gaze.

“I hope you believe that one day,” you said, grabbing your coat.

Your feet carried you to the door, and your hand hesitated on the knob. You wanted him to call out, to fight for you, to prove that this wasn’t just another wall he was building. But he didn’t.

You glanced back, and for a moment, he looked as though he might break—his fists clenched, his body taut with tension. But then his gaze dropped, and the words that could have saved you both never came.

“Goodbye, Simon.”

The door clicked shut behind you, and the cold October air wrapped around you as you walked away. Your legs moved on autopilot, but your mind stayed trapped in the warmth of the memories you were leaving behind.

The time he stayed up with you after your first fight, awkwardly holding your hand as he whispered, “I’m not good at this, but I’ll try.” The way he watched you with something close to wonder the night you wore his hoodie, laughing at his terrible attempt at making pancakes. The rare nights he let you in—told you stories of his childhood, of the people he lost. The first time he said, “I don’t deserve you,” and you kissed him before he could finish.

The sound of your own footsteps became unbearable, each one taking you further away from a man who couldn’t see that he was already everything you needed.

The Old Wellington - Manchester, UK. 1 year later, august | 9:45PM | 10°C

The pub buzzed with life, the comforting chaos of clinking glasses and laughter filling the air. Simon sat in the corner, detached, his untouched whiskey warming in his hand. His team’s voices faded into the background as his thoughts wandered to the edges of places he’d been avoiding.

Soap’s voice boomed above the noise, mid-story and gesturing wildly. “And then, just as the guy thinks he’s outsmarted us, the bloody fence gives way and���bam! Flat on his arse!”

Gaz burst into laughter, his grin wide. “You’ve got to be making that up.”

Price leaned back in his chair, chuckling. “It’s true. I was there.”

Simon stared into his glass, barely hearing the conversation. Soap nudged him with an elbow. “Oi, Ghost, are you alive in there?”

Simon glanced up, forcing a faint smirk. “Listening to you lot’s more entertaining than talking.”

“Sure it is,” Soap teased, raising his glass.

Price set his drink down, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve got to go. It’s already late, missus is waiting for me at home.���

Soap nearly choked on his beer. “Wait a minute. You’ve got a missus? Since when?”

Gaz leaned forward, grinning. “Yeah, Cap. You’ve been holding out on us!”

“She likes her privacy,” Price replied with a shrug, a soft edge to his voice. “But yeah, I’ve got a missus.”

Simon’s grip on his glass tightened. The word missus hit him like a shot, sharp and precise, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

“What’s she like?” Soap asked, clearly intrigued.

Price’s expression softened as he thought about her. “She’s… everything, really. Smart, kind, funny. Keeps me on my toes.”

“She sounds like a saint, putting up with you,” Soap teased with a laugh.

Simon’s chest tightened at the word saint. The thought surfaced before he could stop it. My girl was a saint too…

He swallowed hard, his grip on the glass like a lifeline. He pictured you in his mind—your patience, your warmth, the way you’d look at him like he wasn’t the sum of his mistakes. He’d told himself a thousand times that he’d let you go for your own good, but here he was, haunted by memories he couldn’t shake.

“She is,” Price admitted with a rare smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Simon looked away, draining his whiskey in one gulp. The burn was nothing compared to the hollow ache in his chest.

“You good?” Price asked, his tone casual but his gaze sharp.

Simon straightened, forcing himself to appear calm. “Just remembered something I’ve got to take care of.”

He stood abruptly, tossing some cash on the table. “Catch you later.”

He left before anyone could question him, stepping out into the cold night air. The sharp chill bit at his skin, but it wasn’t enough to distract him.

She was a saint, wasn’t she? The thought lingered, twisting the knife. But he didn’t deserve saints. He never had.

Manchester, UK. 2 years later, december | 9:45PM | 6°C

Christmas had arrived, cloaking the streets of Manchester in a pristine layer of snow. The world felt hushed, the crunch of Simon’s boots against the frozen ground the only sound in the quiet night. His breath puffed in soft clouds, dissolving into the still air.

He hadn’t planned to be here—hadn’t even realized where his aimless wandering had taken him until he found himself on a familiar street. The glow of your living room window caught his eye, and before he could stop himself, he was standing there, looking in.

The scene inside was alive with warmth. Golden light spilled over the living room, illuminating a Christmas tree laden with ornaments. You stood beside it, a delicate bauble in your hand, your laughter bright as it mingled with the joyous chaos of two young boys crawling around the tree.

Simon’s gaze shifted. Price was there, standing close to you, his arm resting comfortably around your waist. The easy intimacy between you spoke volumes—a language Simon once knew but had long forgotten.

His chest tightened, the ache sharp and familiar. He stood frozen, his breath catching as a memory surfaced unbidden: you, sitting beside him on a cold night like this, your hand in his as you talked about the future. A future he’d convinced himself he couldn’t give you.

Now, here it was, vivid and real—but it wasn’t his.

You turned then, your eyes meeting his through the frosted glass. The moment stretched, fragile and heavy with unspoken words. Your expression softened, a bittersweet smile forming as if you understood everything he couldn’t say.

Simon’s gloved hand brushed the glass, the chill biting through the leather. For a fleeting second, he let himself imagine what it would feel like to step inside, to join the warmth instead of watching from the cold.

But he knew better.

He nodded once, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, before stepping back. The snow crunched softly beneath his boots as he turned away, his silhouette fading into the quiet night.

The ache lingered, but as he walked, it shifted—no longer a weight that dragged him down, but something softer, bearable. You were happy. That was enough.

The falling snow blurred his footprints behind him, erasing the path he’d taken to get here. Simon didn’t look back, his lips twitching into a faint smile. For the first time in years, he felt the beginnings of peace. Because some losses, though painful, could eventually feel like victories when love found its way to where it belonged.

[thefirsthogokage]

Fuck AMPTP and the bullshit going on. I'm tired, might not do this well:

(link to article in above picture) From The Article

Receiving positive feedback from Wall Street since the WGA went on strike May 2, Warner Bros Discovery, Apple, Netflix, Amazon, Disney, Paramount and others have become determined to “break the WGA,” as one studio exec blatantly put it.

To do so, the studios and the AMPTP believe that by October most writers will be running out of money after five months on the picket lines and no work.

“The endgame is to allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses,” a studio executive told Deadline. Acknowledging the cold-as-ice approach, several other sources reiterated the statement. One insider called it “a cruel but necessary evil.”

The studios and streamers’ next think financially strapped writers would go to WGA leadership and demand they restart talks before what could be a very cold Christmas. In that context, the studios and streamers feel they would be in a position to dictate most of the terms of any possible deal.

[Image IDs: Twitter thread by David Slack posted July 12th, 2023 that reads in totality:

And right on cue, here’s the inevitable Deadline article claiming that the AMPTP and their CEO bosses are ready to wait us out and let us “go broke.”

They’re not. They can’t. This studio propaganda, and here’s why.

In the increasingly mega-merged and hedgefundified Hollywood, these companies live or die on their quarterly earnings reports. It only takes one bad quarter for their stock price to plunge, putting the company and the CEO’s job in jeopardy.

But their stock prices are holding steady, right? Right. For now. Because our industry is a pipeline that starts with writers. The TV and movies they’re releasing now are shows we started making for them 4-12 quarters ago. But what happens when that pipeline runs dry?

What happens is they run out of product. No new shows in streaming to drive and sustain subscribers. No new shows in broadcast and ad-supported to bring in ad revenue.

No shows, no money.

No money, bad earnings report.

Bad earnings report, bye-bye stock price. Bye-bye CEO.

After 70+ days with no writers to create their product for them, the pipeline is running dry.

Their stock price isn’t tanking yet. But if they don’t make a deal with us, it will.

And they know it.

If they make a deal soon, they might be able to weather it. Stretch out releases. Rush some new stuff through.

But the longer they keep us out, the longer that pipeline runs dry, the more unavoidable a catastrophic dip in new high-quality shows becomes.

And they know it.

So yeah, the studios are planting articles in the trades that make it sound like they’re so determined not to pay us the 0.02% of company revenues we’re asking for that they’re willing to hold out forever.

Bullshit.

I’m sure the AMPTP bosses would love to break our union. But they love their jobs more. They love money more. They can’t make that money without us.

And they know it.

Ignore the trades, walk the line, stand together, and win. #WGAStrong

/End ID]

Bonus: John Rogers' Reaction

[Image ID: A tweet from John Rogers that he posted July 12th, 2023 that reads:

I was trying to be cool and professional about this strike, but this AMPTP “we want to drive them to homelessness” shit means I’m going to be dug in at WB Gate 4 like Hiroo Onada. They’re gonna have to send @ellenstutzman with a bullhorn to order me out of the bushes.

The second image is Ellen Stutzman's Twitter bio that says:

Cheif Negotiator for WGA MBA, Assistant Executive Director, Writers Guild of America, West; Cornell ILR and UCLA Anderson alum. Views are my own.

/End ID]

EDIT: Please see the update on this HERE

[thedivinetarot]

Do I make you feel like Christmas time? Put me in a party dress one time

What is coming your way? (General)

☆ How to chose your pile?

Read this post my dears.

Thank you🤍

☆ Note:

This reading only available until the end of January 2025. After that I do not recommend taking those predictions.

Merry Christmas Dears and happy new year. May all your wishes come true🎄🎊☃️🎆.

Pile 1 - Red car

Your current energy:

Hello pile one🤍 merry Christmas for my beautiful followers. Anyways, let's get into your reading. I can sense 3 energies in this pile so I will write them here and take what resonates okay? Let's start with the first one. I see something green in my peripheral vision and my third eye started tingling. I see that you might be someone who is emotionally attached to someone. I see that it can be for better or worse and I kept typing W so? Yeah anyways. I see that this emotional attachment could be tied to someone in your family. I see a very unhealthy dynamic here, you might be going to spend the holidays with them but instead of having fun they just re-live the old wounds and make you very unhappy. Pile 1 I see that you might be someone who is married or in a long term relationship and your spouse is the only one you feel that can protect you from the problems of your family. I see also that other people here are quite self-sufficient emotional or financially. I see a lot of I'm independent people whether you carry a masculine or feminine energy. For my single people you might get engaged in a traditional way? Perhaps by your family but I see you'll meet them soon. I see that this person might open doors for you. The second energy here is for my college students, I see you waiting for your marks and ending this semester with a lot of dedication too. Things seem very different than previous year. I got shivers all over my back, I feel like in this pile there's a sense of nostalgia. Something perhaps changed than the previous year. The third energy here is my workaholic people; guys take a break for God's sake your loved ones need you to be with them in the holiday, can you pls? Thank you. Also; I see that there's someone here who have done charity for Christmas I see that your spirit guys are very proud of you. Someone here will get a proposal soon, I see that if you are in a long term relationship you'll be proposed to and if you are single love is on it's way, don't give up babies 💋💋.

☆ Placements for you:

Capricorn, Taurus, virgo, Aquarius, Scorpio, Pluto, Saturn, sun dominant in your chart. 2nd, 6th, 11th, 10th, 6th, 8th house placements.

☆ what is coming your way?

So, I do think that people here might have struggled with their health alot. Someone here have a chronic illness like diabetes, hypertension and other chronic illnesses. I see that by the end of this year and the beginning of a new one; things will get better for you especially if you have been looking carefully about your current health status. I see also, that there's indulgence here. If you are someone who suffer from diabetes or hypertension be careful with what you eat (pls consult a Dr about your health this reading cannot substitute medical intervention). Anyways, I see that at the beginning of the holiday everything was balanced perhaps you have been dieting and NOW it feels like you are out of control. I see indulgence in food here. So if you are not used to to being inactive, have healthy lifestyle you might gain weight. I see that what is coming for you also is peace after a period of tiredness. I see that this pile have been fighting to get everything done and are tired because it is not going the way you wanted it to go. The cards are telling me that you should rest and give yourself some time. Nourish your body but do not over indulge. Perhaps spiritually, you are out of alignment. Maybe you abandoned your practices or stopped out of exhaustion. Give yourself sometime dear. Everything will be alright despite it not being quite obvious. I see that you guys are very uncertain right now and feeling lost, but everything will turn out to be alright. You have the tools to shape reality, you are no weak human. You are strong🤍 keep going. Also; you might hear about a proposal perhaps for you or someone you know, it is going to be super beautiful. Thank you for reading 💕.

Pile 2 - Christmas stores

Your current energy

Hello dears how are you? I hope you are doing well. I see here that there was or is a relationship that you were in or still in I'm not getting anything from the past. Something is currently going on. I see that this relationship might have made you emotionally unfulfilled and unsatisfied with that person. Also, another energy I'm picking up on is that if you are single I see someone who is young and youthful that will come into your life. I see that this person take care of their appearance A LOT and put too much thoughts into it. Well; also I have now two situations going on. If you are in a relationship then that person is cheating on you or deceiving you. I see that they are keeping things hidden. Probably with someone online? They might be following someone online and talking to them. And if you are single be careful of that new guy or person coming into your life. They might deceive you and hide things from you. Now for other, I see that if you were suffering from financial hardships this will soon end. I see an opportunity that will shake things up for you possibly coming from a woman you know. I see active search here, also I'm getting the phrase "what you are seeking, seek you back" so don't give up dears.

☆ Placements for you:

Gemini, Pisces, Sagittarius, Aries, Cancer. Pluto, moon, Mercury dominant in your chart. Your sun or moon in the 3rd, 1st, 12th, 9th, 4th house in your chart.

What is coming your way?

So, right of the bat I see that you will receive communication from a woman whom she is very close to you. This woman might be preparing something very sweet and generous. I see a gift here, she might gift you something that is very valuable. I'm not seeing that this woman is a stranger, she is from your family or friends. I see that also, this woman is going to unlock an opportunity for you regarding a job or your career. So, okay I see that this woman might really help you if you are looking for a job and if you are already employed she might support you. If you don't have any woman or female in your life then this might be you. I see you going out and looking for a job yourself, this job will be in a structured setting and it will pay you will. But also, not without difficulties. I see that you'll solve all you problems sense the key is here in the spread.

Pile 3 - Christmas Carol

Current energy:

Hello dear🤍 how are you doing? Let's get into the reading. I see that you started to take care of yourself and someone here is changing their physical appearance. Also, routine, you might have dealt with eating disorder and now you are recovering. Or you have been on a self love journey and now you are receiving the fruits of your labor. Cards here suggest that you need to reflect more about your lifestyle so if you feel the need to reflect on your long term goals do this evaluation so you can move forward with ease. Another energy I'm picking up on is someone here have an emotional attachment to someone else. This relationship feels karmic, and the lesson here is to acknowledge your wounds, heal and move on. I see that the main theme of this relationship is abandonment and manipulation. I see that this person might be manipulating you into thinking that they love you and then they abandon your need as a person. I see that this relationship is here to teach you how to be more logical and stop the unnecessary nostalgia to who that person was before with you. Evaluate that relationship with clarity and stop wasting your time, the right person won't do this to you.

☆ Placements for you:

Scorpio, Virgo, Aries, Gemini, Capricorn, Libra. For planets we have pluto, Mercury, Saturn, Jupiter. Sun or moon in the 1st, 3rd, 6th, 7th, 10th, 8th house in your chart.

☆ What is coming your way?

I see luck coming your way pile 3 and this luck will be because of a very strategic and smart woman. This woman knows a man that will help and guide you through your journey. I see that this man will play a key role in your life and may help you to see things clearly and be your anchor. I see that this person (regardless of the gender) is very optimistic and stable, generous financially too. I see that at first you might really feel tense and un-trusting of their intentions, you may think that they want sex or play with your heart but they are not like that at all. They will support you financially and help you grow in your business or open a business for you. I see also, that you might meet this person because of a problem and then they will help you navigate it. This person is very charismatic, confident and loyal. Also they are very determined. At first you might not like them at all but as you get to know them you'll realize that they are your wish fulfillment! Also, with the heirophant, queen of cups and king of cups you both might be in the same place emotionally when you meet them and above all ready to commit. Another thing I'm picking up on is that this person might indeed be your spouse if you are hoping to meet them. Take care pile 3, enjoy your holiday ����

Pile 4 - Candy

Current energy:

Hello guys, I shuffled the cards and they were jumping like crazy and they energy is not quite right. Are you okay? I feel concerned. Someone here is being abused emotionally and the problem is you are not seeing it as an abuse which is quite strange. I see that I'm not sure why the person you are with might either be a long-term partner or someone that you don't see long-term relationship with. I see that despite the abuse you are trying to keep yourself distant emotionally. I mean yes, they are abusing you emotionally BUT no you are not attached to them in that way nor aware of that. The cards emphasis on setting boundaries. Another energy I'm picking up on is you might be hooking up with someone? And you both are attracted sexually? I see that you and this person do not want to commit which is nice on your own terms but be careful of unwanted pregnancies? Yup, I see that you might have been feeling like giving up and this hookup came and now you are on fire. This person might be boosting your confidence? And above all making you feel good. Nothing serious but still be careful, this person is quite in rush when it comes to that thing and they are non-commital.

☆Placements for you:

Leo, Taurus, Cancer, Sagittarius, Pisces, mars in gemini. Dominant planets: Neptune, mars, Sun, Saturn. Sun or moon in the 2nd, 4th, 5th, 9th, 12th house in your chart.

☆ What is coming your way?

So, love is on it's way pile 4. I see that you might meet someone in a very strategic way. That might know you beforehand but the actual meeting is planned by them. They might have their eyes on you long time until they make a move. I see that this relationship will give you a lot of luck and change you for the better also, it might be like one of those relationships that is very abundant in feelings and romance. Someone here will come and shake up your world. I see that this person or the relationship will be a source of stability and happiness in your life. This person is very sneaky and strategic I kept singing the phrase "g-g-g-g genius" so they might be someone who is considered intellectually smart and stimulating. I see that this person is very nurturing and motherly even if they are masculine or a man, they carry this feminine energy and help people. I see that also, they are emotionally mature and emotional too. They value mutual and reciprocal give and take effort. And pls don't say those people DO NOT exist BECAUSE THEY DO bahahah anyways. This person knows how to communicate directly and very straightforward. I see that in order for them to enter for your life you might be in a difficult chapter and trying to move on and cutting ties with people who have hurt you. Take care pile 4 and may all your wishes come true hohohoho🎅🏼🦌🎄.

Post date: 30th Dec- 2024 Mon

* Feedback is appreciated

[sasheemo]

Friday Thoughts

Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Sunday morning’s spicy haze gives way to a heartfelt conversation about your future together. But with Agatha’s signature flair, it’s anything but ordinary.

Chapter Tags: Jealous Reader, Domestic Bliss, Nicky is Basically a Tiny Wingman, Happy Ending, Fluff Ending, Slow(ish) Burn Payoff, Smut

Word Count: 8.9k

A/N: Chapter 4 dropped on Christmas Eve, and now Chapter 5 is here New Year's Eve—what can I say, I aim for festive timing! 😬

I know I’m not the fastest writer, and I’m sooo sorry about that, but this final chapter had me second-guessing everything right up until the very end.

It was supposed to be short and sweet. No smut. No Rio cameos. Just a heartfelt conversation to wrap everything up neatly. But… well, apparently I can’t resist a little extra spice and some fluff. So instead of “short and sweet,” you’re getting “long and indulgent.” You’re welcome.

Oh, and fair warning—this chapter has a lot of dialogue. But I promise I did my best to make it… engaging wink wink 😏

This is my first-ever completed multi-chapter fic, and honestly? I’m a mix of proud and devastated to be saying goodbye to it. These two have been living rent-free in my head for a while now, and I really hope this ending does them justice.

Thank you to everyone who’s been along for this wild ride—it’s been a joy writing this story, and your support has meant everything. As always, I can’t wait to hear what you think! Here’s to the happy ending these two (and you, let’s be real) deserve. Enjoy and Happy New Year! 💜🥳

Chapter Index

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All you can hear is the relentless pounding of your own heartbeat, each thud drowning out your thoughts as you search for the words.

Agatha’s watching you, her gaze sharp but not unkind. Her hand rests lightly on your arm—a simple, grounding touch—but it might as well be a flame branding your skin, its warmth sending waves of tension rippling through you.

The weight of her presence, the intensity of her eyes, the way her touch seems to anchor you in place, it all builds to a point where you feel like you might snap. You take a step back, breaking the connection, though the movement is hesitant, almost reluctant.

Agatha lets her hand fall without protest, her brow lifting slightly in curiosity as she watches you retreat.

Your feet begin to move instinctively, pacing back and forth across the room as you try to untangle the storm of thoughts in your head. The soft sounds of your bare feet against the hardwood floor create a rhythm, something tangible to focus on as you walk a short line, turn, and walk it again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Agatha shifting her stance. She takes a couple of steps back and leans casually against the dresser, crossing her arms over her chest with an ease that contrasts maddeningly with your spiraling. 

Her hair falls loosely over her shoulders, the soft light catching on its dark waves. Her expression is calm, almost amused, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips as she tracks your movements.

After a couple of minutes of incessant pacing, you don’t even need to look at her to know she’s probably fighting the urge to laugh. She sighs, low and exasperated, though there’s no real annoyance in it.

“Come here, hon.” her voice cuts through the fog in your mind like a blade, steady and commanding. 

You freeze mid-step, glancing toward her, your pulse quickening at the simple authority in her tone.

Slowly, you approach, hesitant but unable to resist the pull of her presence. You stop just short of closing the distance, leaving a fragile sliver of space between you—a barrier you cling to, as much for your own composure as for a chance to steady the storm inside. 

Every part of you aches to close the gap, but you hold back, convincing yourself that this small distance is the only way to face her with a clear mind.

Agatha doesn’t push, doesn’t reach for you. Instead, she stays where she is, leaning against the dresser, her eyes fixed on yours with piercing intensity. Her stillness feels intentional, as though she’s giving you space to breathe, to think, while still holding you firmly in her orbit.

“Well?” she prompts, her voice a velvety blend of calm and command. “Whatever’s got you pacing like a caged animal, it’s time to spit it out.”

You let out a sharp breath, your shoulders slumping slightly as the tension inside you finally breaks.

“Doesn’t this worry you?” you ask, your voice tight with nervous energy.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific, hon.” she replies smoothly, her tone effortlessly confident. “What part of this is supposed to worry me?”

You gesture vaguely with your hands, the words tumbling out clumsily as you try to give shape to your thoughts. “I mean… all of it? Us. Nicholas. What if—what if this gets messy?”

Her smirk deepens, and she tilts her head, studying you with that maddening, amused expression, like she’s already figured you out and is just waiting for you to catch up.

“Messy?” she repeats, the word rolling off her tongue with a teasing lilt. “Sweetheart, the only thing messy about this is how you’re tying yourself into knots over it.”

“I’m serious, Agatha.” you scoff defensively, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So am I, hon.” her voice sharpens slightly, firm but not harsh. “Look, I’m not saying there won’t be challenges. But whatever they are, they’re not anything two grown women can’t handle.”

“So… what exactly is it that’s worrying you?” she presses, her tone softening just a fraction.

Her question hangs in the air, and the weight of her gaze settles over you like a warm, steady pressure. You glance away, trying to collect yourself, before meeting her eyes again.

“It’s everything.” you admit, your voice quieter now. “I just… I don’t know how this works. How we work.”

Agatha doesn’t respond. She just watches you, but there’s no rush in her gaze, no impatience—just a quiet expectation, as if she knows the words are there and trusts you to find them on your own.

Her unexpected steadiness makes something inside you loosen. For some reason, you thought Agatha might struggle with conversations like this—emotional topics, deep and vulnerable. It never seemed like her thing, at least in your mind.

But now, seeing her so composed, so unshaken by the storm you’ve brought to her, you realize that maybe she was expecting this, maybe she’s known this conversation was inevitable long before you did.

And somehow, her calm confidence makes it easier to breathe.

“I just…” you trail off, running a hand through your hair. “I need to know. When did this start? When did you start… feeling like this about me?”

Her brows lift slightly, and for a moment, genuine surprise flickers across her face. It vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by that familiar smirk curling at the corner of her lips.

“That’s a tough one to answer.” she begins, her voice carrying a thoughtful edge. “It wasn’t some grand epiphany. More like… a collection of little moments, each one adding up until I couldn’t ignore them anymore.” 

There’s a faint trace of annoyance in her tone, not aimed at you but at the sheer audacity of the realization itself. Like the idea that you’ve been occupying so much space in her mind is a personal affront she’s still coming to terms with—and even now, it seems to bruise her pride just a little.

“Like what?” you press with quiet insistence, a thread of determination woven through the words.

Agatha tilts her head, her smirk softening as her gaze narrows, calculating. For a moment, she looks almost reluctant to speak, as if she’s weighing how much to tell you. 

“You remember that afternoon a couple of months ago,” she starts, her tone deceptively casual. “when you showed up drenched from head to toe? It was pouring outside, and you still walked in here grinning like an idiot, dripping all over my floors.”

You blink, caught off guard by the memory. “Yeah, what about it?”

“I thought to myself,” she murmurs, her eyes drifting as if replaying the scene, “how does someone look that damn happy while freezing and soaking wet? And why the hell can’t I stop staring at her?”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, your cheeks heating as your gaze darts away from hers. Instinctively, you feel the urge to take a step back, a reflexive retreat from the intensity of the moment. 

But this time, Agatha reaches out, moving as though she’s read your mind. 

She leans forward slightly, her hand grazing your wrist as her fingers curl lightly around it, tugging with just enough firmness to pull you a fraction closer to her.

“And then…” she continues, her voice gaining that teasing edge that always leaves you off-balance, “You’d leave those little treats from the café on the kitchen table. Like some saintly delivery girl, making sure Nicholas had something sweet after school and I had something waiting for me after work. You didn’t think I noticed, did you?”

“I just thought—” you begin, stammering slightly, but she cuts you off with a wave of her hand.

“You thought I was too busy to notice, or that I didn’t care.” she says, her tone mockingly serious now, though her smirk never wavers.

Her fingers trail from your wrist to your hip as she speaks, and it takes a moment for you to realize you’ve unconsciously taken a step closer, the space between you narrowing with each passing second.

“And you,” she continues, her voice dipping lower, “always smelled like coffee after your morning shifts. That scent… it stuck with me. Sometimes I’d walk into the kitchen at night, hours after you left, and I could still smell it. God, I started to notice it everywhere. It drove me insane.”

Your breath catches at her words, and again as her other hand joins the first, both settling firmly on your hips. With a final, deliberate tug, she guides you into the space between her legs, her warmth radiating against you, drawing you into her orbit completely.

“And then there was last Friday night.” she breathes, her voice steeped in an intimacy that makes every word feel like a secret. “I came home and found you on the couch with Nicky curled up next to you. I stood there just staring at you both. I couldn’t stop thinking about how… safe he looked with you. How much he trusts you. How cute the two of you looked together like that.”

The weight of her words leaves you momentarily stunned, but before you can process them fully, a darker thought claws its way to the forefront of your mind.

“And the other Fridays?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

Her brow arches, and the sharpness in her expression returns, a glint of mischief sparking in her eyes. “What about them?”

“You know what I mean.” you say, crossing your arms tightly, trying to shield yourself from the sudden vulnerability you feel. “All those nights you came home late, looking… like that.”

Agatha sighs, the sound low and laced with mock boredom, yet the gentle squeeze of her hands on your hips betrays her true feelings—anything but indifferent. It’s not real annoyance, more a carefully crafted exasperation tinged with amusement, as if, deep down, she’s savoring how your relentless, probing questions are playing perfectly into her hands.

“Most of them were business dinners.” she says, her voice firm and matter-of-fact. “Clients, potential partners. Necessary evils, nothing exciting.”

“But not all of them.” you press, your voice sharper now, frustration lacing your words.

“No.” she remarks dryly. “Not all of them.”

“How many were dates?” you demand, the jealousy you’ve been trying to suppress bubbling to the surface hot and fast despite your best efforts to tamp it down.

“Does it matter?” she counters smoothly, her tone cool but not dismissive.

“It does to me.” you snap before you can stop yourself.

“Fine, a few. But none of them were serious, hon.” she says, and you could swear her voice is playful, almost teasing, as if she can sense the jealousy burning you alive and is enjoying every second of it.

“Define ‘serious.’” you scoff, your hands coming up to push lightly against her shoulders, but she doesn’t budge an inch.

“One dinner.” she states with a shrug, her tone infuriatingly calm and offhand. “Maybe some fun at their place afterwards, but that’s it. It was never anything more.”

Her honesty stings, even if it’s what you wanted, what you asked for. You look away, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the jealousy from overtaking you.

“And last Friday night?” you press, your voice barely above a whisper. The words feel heavy as they leave your lips, your pulse quickening with a mix of apprehension and the need to know. “What happened before you came home and found me and Nicky on the couch?”

Her grin turns inexplicably wicked as her hands slide lower to firmly your ass. With a deliberate tug, she pulls you flush against her, your hips colliding in a way that sends heat racing up your spine.

“Last Friday night was a date, sweetheart.” she begins, her tone maddeningly casual, like she’s recounting a a dull anecdote rather than making your blood boil. “She tried to kiss me outside the restaurant and invited me to her place.”

She pauses just long enough for the words to sink in, her eyes glinting with amusement as she gauges your reaction.

The words hit you like a cold gust of wind, and your chest tightens, jealousy fizzling hot and insistent in your stomach. Her nonchalance feels like a knife twisting, and you’re sure she can sense it, her smirk widening ever so slightly as her eyes lock onto yours.

You force yourself to hold her gaze, but the casual edge of her tone, the way she seems so unaffected, is almost too much to bear. A hundred thoughts race through your mind, each one more unbearable than the last. You’re not sure whether to scoff, snap, or step away, but before you can decide, Agatha’s voice cuts through the tension again.

“But…”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, and her expression shifts, the confidence that usually cloaks her like armor faltering ever so slightly. It’s subtle, but enough to make you feel the weight of whatever she’s about to say. 

She exhales through her nose, the hesitation palpable as though she’s debating whether to say the words out loud. 

When she finally does, her voice is lower, dipping into a gentleness that catches you completely off guard, each word laced with a quiet vulnerability that makes your heart stutter. 

“When I politely declined her offer… I called her by your name.”

You blink. Once. Twice. your brain firing on all cylinders yet somehow managing to stall completely. Surely, you must have misheard her.

And then she winks. And it’s game over.

Your eyes widen to comical proportions, your jaw drops like it’s auditioning for a slapstick comedy, and you’re pretty sure your entire face is now brighter than a chili pepper under a spotlight. 

At your reaction, Agatha’s smirk blossoms into its full, mischievous glory, positively dripping with wicked delight—a clear indicator that she’s savoring every second of your mental implosion.

“You what?!” you practically squawk, the words bursting out louder and more incredulous than you thought humanly possible.

Agatha chuckles, low and rich, the sound rolling over you like a warm wave. The sheer satisfaction glinting in her eyes is almost maddening, and her hands, still resting on your ass, shift slightly—her fingers brushing against the loose fabric of your shorts in a way that feels far too casual given the bombshell she just dropped.

“No, no, wait.” you stammer, still trying to process. “You’re telling me you, Agatha Harkness—confident, poised, never-misses-a-beat Agatha Harkness—actually called someone by the wrong name? My name? On a date? I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t exactly strike me as the type to… you know… trip over your own rizz like that.”

She tilts her head, one brow arching in mock warning as her eyes lock onto yours, a look that clearly says, Careful, hon, don’t push your luck. It’s playful, yes, but there’s just enough edge in her gaze to make your breath hitch, like she’s daring you to test her patience. 

“Trust me, sweetheart, no one was more surprised than me.” she admits with dry amusement as the faintest shrug rolls off her shoulders.

But there’s a betraying flicker in her eyes, a glimmer of self-deprecation, and you can tell she’s trying very hard to hold back laughter herself at this point.

“So, you’re standing there, at the end of your very hot date or whatever, and just—what? Randomly blurt out my name?” you ask, the teasing edge in your voice growing sharper as you fight the urge to giggle.

“It wasn’t quite like that.” she corrects, “We were outside the restaurant, and she leaned in—clearly angling for a kiss. I… stopped her before it went that far.” she continues as her smirk deepens. “But then she still invited me back to her place, and… well, that’s when it happened. Your name name came out instead of whatever hers was. Clear as day.”

The image plays out in your head: Agatha standing there with some impossibly glamorous woman, utterly composed until… she isn’t. The thought sends a strange mix of emotions swirling through you—jealousy, disbelief, and something dangerously close to triumph.

“Why didn’t you…?” you hesitate, your voice faltering as the question comes out before you can stop yourself. “Why didn’t you just go home with her?”

“It wouldn’t have made much sense, would it?” she replies with a shrug, as if you’ve just asked the most obvious question in the world.

“Why not?” you push, your heart pounding now.

“Because it wouldn’t have mattered. The whole date was a lousy attempt to stop thinking about the fact that I wanted my hot, younger babysitter.”

Your breath hitches, heat rushing to your face at her words. They land between you, heavy and electric, making it impossible to look away.

“And I knew,” she continues, her voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial, “that if I’d gone home with her, it wouldn’t have changed anything. I’d have spent the whole night imagining it was you. Hell, I spent the entire dinner doing that.”

The honesty in her words steals the breath from your lungs, leaving you momentarily stunned. Her confession is playful and teasing, but it’s also raw, stripped of any pretense, leaving no room for doubt.

“You’ve been in my head, sweetheart, for longer than you realize. Last Friday night just made it impossible to keep pretending otherwise.”, her words come out almost in a sigh, laced with exasperation, like this whole ordeal has been just as maddening for her as it has been for you.

Your thoughts are spinning, a chaotic swirl of emotions you can’t quite untangle, but the way she’s looking at you—steady, unshaken, and utterly sure—anchors you in place. Her gaze is magnetic, pulling you toward a singular truth that feels impossible to ignore, and there’s only one thing your mind is screaming at you to do.

Your hands fly to her neck, fingers tangling in the soft waves of her hair as your lips crash into hers. The kiss is anything but gentle—urgent, unrestrained, a collision of pent-up tension, jealousy and raw need. 

Agatha stiffens for a second, caught off guard, but the hesitation melts as quickly as it came.

She responds with equal fervor, her lips moving against yours with a commanding urgency that steals the breath from your lungs. When she finally breaks away, it’s not in retreat but with a low, surprised laugh that vibrates against your lips.

“Well.” she drawls, her voice roughened with amusement and provocation, her lips still brushing yours, “If jealousy makes you this needy, I might just make it a habit to mention my Friday nights more often.”

Your face burns as you glare at her, though the heat in your chest only intensifies. 

“Don’t even try it.” you snap, tugging slightly at her bottom lip with your teeth as your voice drops to a playful warning. “I mean it, Agatha.”

Agatha chuckles, the sound rumbling through her chest as one of her hands drifts from your hips to the front of your shorts, her fingers toying lazily with the waistband. 

The casual, almost absent motion ignites a wildfire beneath your skin, leaving every nerve alight and your body coiled tight with anticipation.

She slips one thigh between yours, nudging gently to widen your stance, and your hands instinctively clutch her shoulders for balance. Before you can steady yourself, her fingers dip beneath the fabric, brushing the edge of your panties.

Her smirk deepens, her eyes gleaming with sinful intent that sends a tremor through your knees, as if she’s already savoring the exact moment she’ll make you fall apart. 

“But baby…” she murmurs, leaning in until her lips brush the shell of your ear, her voice dropping into something dark and honey-sweet. “Needy looks sooo good on you”

Her voice alone sends a pulse straight to your core, and when her fingers dip lower, slipping past the edge of your panties to press against your soaked folds, the moan that rips from your throat is nothing short of pornographic.

You’re drenched, embarrassingly so, and the slick sound of her fingers gliding through your arousal only makes it worse. 

She doesn’t even try to conceal her delight, letting out a throaty, satisfied hum that vibrates against your skin. It’s a sound of pure indulgence, as though she’s reveling in the way your body responds so eagerly, so quickly, to her words, to her touches.

“Agatha—fuck!” you gasp, your voice trembling with a mix of need and protest as your hips buck involuntarily against her hand. “We’re not… we’re not done talking.”

Her lips curl into a grin as she pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes gleaming with a challenge as her fingers slide deeper, spreading your wetness with excruciatingly languid strokes.

“Oh, I know.” she purrs, her tone dripping with faux innocence as her fingers tease your entrance. “Go on, baby. Keep talking.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to—”

The sentence dies in your throat, replaced by a strangled moan as two fingers slide into you effortlessly. The sound of your wetness fills the room, obscene and loud, and you can’t stop the strangled cry that escapes when she curls her fingers just right.

“I’ve been patient, haven’t I?” she asks smoothly, her smirk widening as her thumb brushes a lazy, maddeningly light circle over your clit. “I’ve let you ask all your questions, answered them, and I’m still here for the rest. But…”. She punctuates her next words with a deep thrust, her palm grinding against your clit in a way that makes your breath hitch. “It’s time you start giving me something back, don’t you think?”

“Oh my God—fuck!” you groan, your head dropping to her shoulder as your hips grind against her hand, chasing the pleasure she’s so expertly coaxing from you. 

Your legs tremble, barely holding you up, and the wet, filthy sound of her fingers moving inside you makes your face burn with humiliation and need.

“That’s it.” she hums, her voice low and approving as her free hand moves to tangle in your hair, tilting your head so her lips graze your ear. “Be a good girl and try for me, mmh?”

“Agatha, please.” you whimper, your nails digging into her shoulders as your walls clench around her fingers. “I can’t—I can’t focus when you’re—mmh—when you’re doing that.”

“Sure, you can. And you will.” she murmurs, her thumb pressing harder against your clit in rhythm with her thrusts. “You’ll think, talk, listen, and take everything I’m giving you, just like the clever girl I know you are.”

Her praise is a double-edged sword, both a balm and a brand, sending warmth flooding through you while also igniting a stubborn need to meet her challenge. Gritting your teeth, you force your voice to form a single, coherent thought.

“N-nicholas.” you stammer, your voice barely intelligible as pleasure and worry collide in your chest. “What about—oh, fuck—what about Nicholas? What if— what if this messes everything up for him?”

Agatha’s smirk softens just slightly, though her fingers don’t falter, their pace steady and relentless.

“Nicholas is smarter than most adults, baby.” she murmurs, her voice impossibly calm and confident even as you whimper against her shoulder. “He’s practically a human lie detector. Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already picked up on something.”

“Besides, he adores you.” she continues casually, as if you aren’t completely falling apart in her arms. “As long as we handle this carefully—and don’t, you know, start fucking in the living room while he’s watching cartoons—he’ll be fine.”

You let out a strangled laugh, though it quickly dissolves into a moan as her fingers curl deeper, hitting a spot that makes your entire body tense. 

“But—but what if he—oh my God—doesn’t take it well?”

“Sweetheart.” she murmurs, her free hand tilting your chin up to meet her gaze, her eyes impossibly tender yet razor-sharp. “Stop overthinking. We’ll handle it. Together.”

You nod weakly, unable to form a rational response as she quickens her pace, driving you closer to the edge with every thrust. 

But before you can let yourself fall completely into the haze of pleasure, another thought claws its way to the surface.

“And Rio?” you choke out, though your voice is barely a whisper now, trembling with the effort of holding on. “What happens when she—fuck—when she finds out?”

“Rio doesn’t have a say in my life anymore.” she drawls, her smirk widening into something downright predatory as her fingers thrust deeper, harder, drawing a strangled cry from your throat. “Sure, we keep things civil for Nicholas’s sake, but beyond that? She can think whatever she wants. It won’t change a damn thing.”

“But—but what if—mmh yes—what if she makes it hard for us?”

“What’s she gonna do, huh?” Agatha arches a brow, her free hand gripping your waist to steady you as your legs start to tremble. “Get all huffy and judgmental? Let her.”

Her confidence ripples through you, grounding and infuriating all at once, even as her pace grows brutal. Your walls clench tighter around her, the pressure in your belly building to an unbearable height. Yet one last question remains lodged in the back of your throat. 

When it finally tumbles out, your voice cracks under the weight of it. “And what if you… what if you get tired of me?”

Agatha freezes for a heartbeat, her gaze pinning yours in place with a fierce, almost dangerous intensity that takes your breath away.

“I won’t.” she snaps, her tone so firm, so unshakable, it’s as if the very idea is offensive.

Her gaze drops pointedly to where her fingers disappear into you, sliding out glistening before thrusting back in with a wet, filthy sound, over and over again.

“If you could see yourself right now—falling apart on my fingers, so perfect, so mine—you’d know just how impossible that question is.”

Her words land like a thunderclap and your body shudders violently, your legs trembling so hard you’re certain you’d collapse if it weren’t for the firm, possessive grip she keeps on your waist.

And then, as if to punish you for your suggestion, or perhaps to drive her point home with devastating clarity, she slides a third finger into you without warning. The stretch is intense, toeing the line between pleasure and overwhelming, and you let out a strangled cry that tears through the room.

Her thumb presses harder, faster, against your clit as her fingers work you open. It’s deliberate, merciless, as though she’s staking her claim in every possible way, daring you to question her devotion again.

“That’s it, baby.” she hums, her voice dark and velvety, her satisfaction palpable in the way her lips curl into a smirk against your temple. “Taking me so well… so fucking perfect.”

Her words only add fuel to the fire blazing inside you, and you’re helpless to stop the wrecked, broken moans spilling from your lips as her pace quickens. 

Your body arches involuntarily, seeking more, needing more, as the pressure builds impossibly higher, threatening to snap with every flick of her thumb and thrust of her fingers.

You silently call on every divine entity, ancient force, or cosmic fluke you can think of, just to ensure she’ll grant the desperate plea teetering on the edge of your lips.

“Please!” the word escapes you as a desperate sob, raw and aching as your hands clutch her shoulders. “Please, Agatha—fuck, I need to—”

“Come for me, baby.” her command cuts you off, slicing through the haze like a blade and shattering you completely. 

Your body seizes, the coil in your belly snapping violently as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, relentless and all-consuming. 

Wetness gushes from you, coating her hand and soaking the fabric of your shorts as she continues to work you through it, her fingers dragging unrelentingly along your walls, sending shivers through every nerve.

“Fuck, look at you.” she breathes, her tone edged with awe and sinful pride as your walls spasm around her fingers, gripping her so tightly it’s a wonder she can still move. “So messy for me.”

The intensity is almost unbearable, your cries escalating into a scream that rips from your throat as the pleasure crests in waves, each more powerful than the last. 

Agatha doesn’t let up, her movements steady and calculated, prolonging your pleasure until the last waves finally begin to ebb. 

Her hand on your waist tightens, grounding you as her lips press soft, soothing kisses along your jaw, a stark contrast to the raw intensity of what she’s just done to you.

As you collapse against her, your breathing ragged and uneven, she slows her fingers, her touch gentler now as she carefully withdraws, her hand glistening with your release. 

She presses a lingering kiss to your temple, her voice impossibly tender despite the smug satisfaction lacing it.

“See? I knew you could do it. Such a good girl for me.” she murmurs, her words a caress that feels like velvet against your frayed senses. 

Her free hand strokes slow, appeasing circles against your lower back, grounding you as the tremors in your body begin to ebb.

The room feels impossibly quiet now, the only sounds your labored breathing and the warm, satisfied chuckle that hums through Agatha’s chest.

“You’re insufferable.” you mumble weakly against her neck, your voice hoarse and cracked, though there’s a stifled laugh buried beneath the exhaustion.

“And yet….” she purrs, lifting your chin with a single, deft finger until your gaze meets hers. Her piercing eyes hold yours captive, but there’s a glimmer of something softer beneath the smirk curling at her lips—something achingly tender, almost reverent. “Here we are.”

Her thumb brushes over your cheek, the simple, affectionate gesture robbing you of what little breath you’ve managed to reclaim. 

You blink up at her, still dazed, a faint, incredulous smile pulling at your lips.

“Here we are,” you echo, your voice trembling but steady enough to carry the weight of a moment that feels suspended in time.

It’s a connection that needs no embellishment, one that feels intimate and inevitable, like it had been quietly waiting for the two of you all along.

The rest of Sunday unfolds in a blissful, lazy haze. 

After the emotionally charged conversation in the morning, the day slows to a gentle rhythm. Agatha suggests a walk to clear your heads, and the two of you meander through a nearby park. 

The air is crisp, the sun peeking through the clouds as you stroll side by side, talking about nothing in particular—favorite seasons, forgotten childhood stories, ridiculous hypotheticals. 

It feels easy, natural, like you’ve been doing this forever.

Back at home, the afternoon fades into evening. You help Agatha prepare a simple dinner, and she insists on pouring you a glass of wine while you work. 

Later, the two of you curl up on the couch, a movie playing on the screen, your head resting on her shoulder. The sound of her quiet laughter at the film’s witty dialogue makes your heart ache with something sweet and new.

But the serenity is interrupted by the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. Nicholas bursts in, his bag slung over his shoulder, his cheeks flushed from the cool evening air. 

Rio follows, her gaze sweeping briefly between you and Agatha, lingering just long enough to convey a subtle curiosity, before she offers a polite nod. Bending slightly, she presses a kiss to Nicholas’s cheek, her voice soft as she wishes him goodnight. 

Without another word, she straightens, casting one final glance in your direction, then strides out the door with the same poised elegance she carried in.

“Hey, kiddo!” Agatha calls out, sitting up slightly but keeping her arm draped over the back of the couch, her fingers brushing your shoulder.

Nicholas closes the door and freezes the second he turns, his eyes darting between the two of you. 

His brow furrows, and then, with his hereditary dramatic flair, he lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh.

“Finally!” he groans, dropping his bag on the floor with a thud. “I was wondering when you two were gonna figure it out.”

You blink, startled. “Wait—what?”

Agatha’s smirk is instant, her lips curling as she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “What do you mean, ‘figure it out,’ Nicky?”

He rolls his eyes with as if the answer is painfully obvious. 

“I mean the two of you! You’re always talking about each other and asking me stuff.” he quips, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “You’re like, ‘What’s your mom’s favorite breakfast?’, and Mom’s like, ‘Do you think she likes scary movies?’. Ugh, it was soooo annoying.”

Nicholas shakes his head, letting out another dramatic sigh as if he’s been a long-suffering martyr to your mutual pining. 

From beside you, you hear the unmistakable sound of a small snort escaping Agatha.

Heat floods your cheeks as you glance at her, but it only makes her grin widen. She arches a single, perfectly smug eyebrow at you, her expression dripping with satisfaction.

“Told you.” she says simply, giving an exaggerated shrug.

You cover your face with your hands, groaning. “This is mortifying.”

Agatha’s laughter fills the room, warm and unrestrained. She reaches out to tug one of your hands away from your face, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture so casual yet affectionate it leaves you breathless.

After that day, You and Agatha decide to take things slow, despite the months you’ve already spent orbiting each other. You want to step out of the roles you’ve occupied—Nicholas’s babysitter, his mom—and discover who you are to each other beyond that.

At first, you were almost afraid. Afraid that someone like Agatha, who seemed so independent and unapologetically confident, might be all fire and intensity, with little space for tenderness beyond fleeting moments. 

But slowly, carefully, she proves you wrong.

When Agatha loves, you realize, she doesn’t hold back. She loves with her entire being, fiercely yet gently, as though nothing outside the world she’s built around you truly matters.

Sure, the sex is breathtaking—raw, unrestrained, and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. But with Agatha, it’s so much more than that. 

She doesn’t just make you feel wanted, she makes you feel profoundly seen, utterly cherished. Every touch carries intention, every kiss a pledge of devotion.

She quickly learns your body like a map, her fingers and lips tracing each curve with reverence, savoring every discovery as though unveiling a hidden treasure meant only for her.

But beyond the fiery passion, there’s an unexpected warmth, a softness that takes you by surprise. 

Her teasing sarcasm and sharp wit—cornerstones of who she is—remain ever-present, capable of making you groan in exasperation one moment and laugh until your sides ache the next. 

And yet, as new facets of her emerge, they gradually begin to share space with so much more.

At night, when the world is quiet, Agatha reveals a rare, thoughtful vulnerability, speaking of the things that scare her or the mistakes she’s afraid of repeating.

In the evenings, she pulls you onto the couch, wrapping you in her arms as she teases you about your movie choices, only to stay glued to the screen the entire time.

In the middle of an argument, even when her irritation is clear and the sharpness in her tone feels like a shield she’s reluctant to lower, her gaze softens. Against her own nature, she takes a breath, letting the frustration ebb just enough to say, “I’m listening, go on.” It’s not easy for her, you can see that—but she tries. She chooses to stay, to listen, to understand, even when every instinct might tell her to close off.

Each moment is a small glimpse into a side of her that feels like a gift, a quiet affirmation that she is so much more than you ever imagined.

You also come to realize, that Agatha, for all her snarky remarks and commanding presence, craves affection too. 

She’ll never say it outright, of course, but the way she seeks those little moments of closeness gives her away every time.

The way she tucks you closer to her chest in the morning, long before the rest of the world is awake. The way her hand brushes your hair back as you lean over a book, a casual touch that lingers just a second too long. The way she kisses your temple absentmindedly as she passes you in the kitchen. The way her fingers trail down your arm before settling on your waist as you both stand in the backyard at night, watching Nicholas excitedly point out constellations while Agatha murmurs their names with a quiet smile. The way her fingers softly brush against yours when she hands you a cup of coffee.

These aren’t grand gestures—they’re quiet, unspoken reminders of how deeply she cares. They’re Agatha’s way of saying what she can’t always put into words, of reaching for connection in ways that feel achingly sincere.

Agatha surprises you constantly. 

She starts showing up at the café during your morning shifts, always impeccably dressed, her heels clicking against the tile floor as she strides in like she owns the place. 

“I’m between meetings” she claims casually, though you notice she always stays just long enough to leave your coworkers flustered and whispering about ‘the gorgeous older woman’ who sits at the corner table, sipping her black coffee and glancing at her phone like she has nowhere better to be.

When she catches you watching her from behind the counter, her smirk is instant, as if to say, Yes, hon, I know I’m distracting you. And it never fails to make your pulse race.

She spoils you shamelessly, too. Thoughtful gifts appear with alarming regularity—books she’s noticed you eyeing, a beautiful scarf she swears “just screamed your name,” or your favorite pastries from a bakery across town. 

“Stop fussing.” she says one evening as you eye the expensive wine she’s ordered at a rooftop restaurant. The city lights glitter around you, and the cool night air brushes your cheeks. “You deserve it.”

You roll your eyes but lean in to kiss her anyway, her hand slipping up to cup your cheek. Her smile softens, that guarded edge melting just enough to reveal the depth of her affection, and your heart aches in the best way.

For Agatha, you could have stopped working altogether if you wanted to. She made it clear from the beginning that money would never be an issue, brushing off the idea as though it was laughable. 

Still, you hold onto your job at the café. It keeps you busy in the mornings, gives you a sense of independence, and lets you stash away some savings of your own. Besides, you’ve worked there so long it feels strange to think about leaving.

At the same time, you insist on keeping your part-time babysitting job, though you flat-out refuse to let her pay you anymore.

That particular conversation becomes a recurring battle. One day, however, you reach your limit.

It’s the umpteenth time Agatha offers to pay you for the hours you spend with Nicky. She leans casually against the doorframe as you fold Nicholas’s laundry, her voice calm but insistent, a mix of exasperation and charm she wields far too well.

You freeze mid-fold, the heat of your frustration bubbling over.

“Agatha, I swear to God, if you bring this up one more time…” you snap, throwing a pair of socks straight at her chest with uncharacteristic force.

Her smirk falters as she catches them, her eyes widening at the sharpness in your voice.

“You’re seriously yelling at me over socks?” she quips, clearly thrown off but still managing to sound incredulous.

“I’m yelling because I’m done with this conversation.” you fire back, your voice louder than you intended. “I’m not taking your money for this anymore. Period. End of story. Got it?”

Agatha blinks, stunned into silence. It’s not often you raise your voice, and judging by her expression, she doesn’t quite know what to do with it. 

After a long, weighted pause, she finally lets out an exaggerated sigh, her shoulders slumping dramatically as she tosses the socks back at you.

“Well, you’re impossible.” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans back against the doorframe with a look of mock irritation. “I can’t win with you.”

You narrow your eyes at her, still fuming, but the hint of a grin tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“You already have.” you mutter, chucking another pair of socks her way.

This time, her smirk returns in its full glory. She catches the socks with ease, her expression relaxing as she throws them back with a playful flick of her wrist. “Flatterer.”

After that conversation, the balance you strike feels so natural, so effortlessly right, that it’s hard to remember a time when things were any different.

You spend your mornings at the café, while most of your afternoons are dedicated to Nicholas. Over time, Agatha begins working from home more often, and those afternoons blend seamlessly into dinners shared around the table, followed by evenings that melt into cozy, lazy hours on the couch. 

Even if you don’t see her much while she works—her door often closed as she immerses herself in work—there’s something undeniably comforting about knowing she’s just upstairs. 

It’s in the faint hum of her voice during a call, the creak of floorboards as she shifts her chair, or the brief moments when she steps out to grab coffee, check on Nicholas, or steal a quick kiss from you in the kitchen. 

Her presence lingers throughout the house, steady and grounding, offering a quiet reassurance you hadn’t realized you craved.

The roles you once played haven’t disappeared, but they’ve shifted, harmonizing gracefully into this new dynamic that feels equal parts exciting and comforting.

Agatha doesn’t push you to redefine everything overnight, doesn’t demand more than you’re ready to give. Instead, she meets you where you are, and together, you explore the space between who you were before and who you’re becoming now.

Five months in, Agatha brings it up over breakfast.

“You know…” she begins casually, buttering her toast with the kind of ease that suggests she isn’t about to change your life forever, “it’d make a lot more sense if you just lived here.”

You nearly choke on your coffee, coughing and setting the mug down with a sharp clink. “Are you—are you serious?”

She looks up from her plate, her expression calm but her eyes warm, filled with a certainty that grounds you even as your heart races. “Of course. It feels right, doesn’t it?”

It does. Deep down, you’d known for a while now that this was where you belonged. Still, hearing it aloud, from her, catches you off guard. But there’s no hesitation when you answer.

“Yes.” you say, the word coming out soft but steady. “It does.”

Everything falls into place with an almost disarming simplicity and, by the end of the weekend, your things are integrated seamlessly into her home. 

Your favorite mug finds a spot on her kitchen shelf, your books line the living room walls alongside hers, and the faint scent of your perfume lingers in her bedroom.

Nicholas adjusts effortlessly, almost as if he’d been waiting for this to happen all along. The three of you settle into a domesticity that feels natural, filled with laughter, shared meals, and quiet moments.

Even Rio seems unbothered when she comes to pick Nicholas up on the weekends. She exchanges polite words with you, her demeanor perfectly cordial, before whisking him away for their outings. 

Whatever tension you’d feared never materializes, leaving you to wonder if Agatha had talked to her privately or if Nicholas, in his own way, had smoothed the path between you.

On Saturday mornings, Nicholas claims the kitchen as his domain, declaring himself “Head Pancake Chef” as you and Agatha lounge at the table, sipping coffee and exchanging amused glances while he works.

In the evenings, after Nicholas has gone to bed, the two of you often find yourselves curled up together on the couch, her arm draped lazily over your shoulders as you share quiet conversation, watch a movie or simply sit in comfortable silence.

Every day, every moment, strengthens the sense that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

Yet, for months, you’ve held onto your old apartment, keeping it as a safety net—a place to retreat to if things fell apart, if Agatha ever grew tired of you, if it all turned out to be too good to be true. 

You’d told yourself it was practical, that it didn’t mean anything. But deep down, you’d known it was fear keeping you tethered to the space.

One random evening, everything changes.

It’s late, and the house is quiet. You and Agatha are curled up on the couch, one arm draped around your shoulders as you trace lazy circles on the back of her hand. There’s an ease between you, the kind that has grown naturally over the months.

Out of nowhere, she murmurs, “I love you.”

The words land softly but powerfully, knocking the air from your lungs. 

You freeze, your hand stilling on hers as your mind races. For a brief moment, you think you’ve imagined it, your own thoughts playing tricks on you.

But then you glance up, and she’s watching you. Her expression is open yet achingly vulnerable, her lips slightly parted as if she’s bracing herself for your reaction, the faintest flush coloring her cheeks.

Agatha Harkness, who exudes confidence and poise in every other moment, suddenly looks almost shy.

Your heart swells, the response spilling out without hesitation. “I love you too, Agatha. So much.”

Her eyes widen briefly before a slow, radiant smile spreads across her face, lighting her up in a way you’ve never seen before.

She leans in, her movements deliberate yet tender, and when her lips meet yours, it’s as if the world tilts on its axis.

The kiss starts soft, her lips warm and gentle against yours. But it deepens quickly, her hand coming up to cradle the side of your face, her thumb brushing your cheek.

You feel her smile against your lips, a small, unguarded curve that sends warmth flooding through you. When she finally pulls back, her forehead rests lightly against yours, her hand lingering on your cheek as if she’s reluctant to let go. 

Her eyes search yours, glowing with a mix of joy and relief, and you realize that this moment, this love, is as real as it gets.

The next morning, you list your apartment for sale.

Weeks later, it sells, and it’s time to clear it out for good. Agatha insists on coming with you to help despite your protests that there isn’t much left to do, since most of your things had already made their way to her house when you moved in.

Together, you sift through the last remnants of your belongings—forgotten trinkets in the back of drawers, mismatched furniture that doesn’t fit anywhere anymore, and boxes filled with things you can’t remember why you kept.

As you bend down to pick up one of the boxes, you feel the weight of her gaze on you. By the time you straighten, she’s right there—closer than she was a moment ago—her hand curling possessively around your waist, her presence electric.

“What if…” she murmurs, her lips grazing your ear as her fingers slide to the small of your back, “We give this place a proper send-off.”

Before you can respond, her mouth is on yours, claiming and insistent. The kiss is searing, a collision of teeth and tongues that leaves you breathless as she presses you back against the nearest wall.

“Agatha—fuck!” you gasp as her hands wander, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against her. “We’re supposed to be clearing out, not—” your voice falters as her lips graze your neck, stealing your train of thought entirely.

“Oh, we will.” she purrs, her voice dripping with wicked intent. “After.”

What follows is nothing short of ruinous. She doesn’t just touch you—she consumes you, her hands, mouth, and body working in perfect, devastating harmony to claim every inch of you.  

She starts in the kitchen, bending you over the counter with a commanding ease that makes your breath hitch. Her nails dig into your hips as her fingers slide into you, relentless and thorough, her mouth hot and demanding against your neck. The slick sound of her movements mixes with the sharpness of your cries, echoing off the bare walls as her pace quickens, leaving you breathless and clawing for the edge.

In the living room, she pushes you down onto the couch—the same one where you once sat alone, overthinking everything. Now, it’s where she strips you bare and buries her head between your thighs, her tongue working with maddening precision. She doesn’t stop, even as your hips buck against her mouth, her grip on your thighs unrelenting. When you fall apart, her name breaking from your lips, she takes it all, her smirk sinful as she looks up, licking her lips like she’s savoring every second.

Even the bedroom—now a sparse, nearly empty space that offers no distractions—doesn’t escape her attention. She pins you to the mattress with a ferocity that leaves no doubt as to who you belong to, her name a broken mantra on your lips as her pace builds, her body pressing against yours in a way that demands surrender. Her fingers push you over the edge again and again, each climax leaving you trembling and weak, her breath hot on your skin as she praises you through the haze of pleasure.

By the time she’s done with you, every surface bears the evidence of her passion, and you’re left spent, boneless, and utterly wrecked in her arms.

Later, as you sit on the floor together eating takeout amidst the remaining boxes, she looks over at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So…” she says, her voice a lazy drawl. “Think you’ll miss this place?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you lean into her side. “Not even a little.”

Because your home isn’t a space anymore—it’s her.

Exactly one year after that Sunday morning when everything changed, you find yourself reflecting on how far you’ve come.

It’s Friday night and you’re sitting at a cozy restaurant, the golden glow of candlelight reflecting off Agatha’s beautiful features. Her hand brushes against yours on the table, her touch as natural and grounding as the rhythm of your breaths.

Fridays used to be a minefield, an endless loop of questions you were too afraid to ask, feelings you didn’t dare name. You remember those nights vividly, steeped in quiet agony, where every thought, every fleeting moment tied to Agatha—her voice, her gaze, her very presence—was laced with an ache so consuming it felt impossible to escape. 

At times, you can still taste the bitter certainty that nothing you longed for could ever be within reach. Looking back, though, you almost laugh. 

Agatha had nearly driven you insane with her looks, her touches, her maddeningly unreadable smirks. You’d been so sure you were imagining it all, you’d almost lost your mind trying to figure her out.

But now, Fridays have transformed into something else entirely. They’ve become a ritual of joy and love.

They’re your nights. Date nights. Moments stolen just for the two of you while Nicholas stays with Rio or a babysitter. Whether it’s a fancy dinner in the city or a quiet evening at home, these Fridays are sacred.

You glance across the table at Agatha, who’s sipping her wine, her eyes flicking up to meet yours. 

Her smirk curls in that way you know will always make your stomach flip, no matter how many times you see it. But there’s a softness behind it now, a tenderness she doesn’t bother hiding anymore.

“What’s that look for?” she asks, her voice low and familiar, the sound of it wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

You smile, bliss flooding your chest. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes in mock disbelief, but the way her thumb strokes the back of your hand betrays her. 

“You’re insufferable.” she mutters, though her tone holds no bite.

“And yet…” you tease, leaning forward slightly, your voice dipping conspiratorially, “Here we are.”

Her lips twitch as though she’s fighting a full smile, and for a moment, you both laugh, the kind of easy, unguarded laughter that fills every quiet corner of your heart.

And as you sit there, her hand in yours and the echoes of your journey fading into the warmth of the present, a quiet certainty blooms within you: you can’t wait to see where this love leads.

[awrkive]

angst + 14 + with jk make it HURT miss dee i trust you with my life 🙏🏻

14.  "If you walk way from me, I don't want you coming back."

note: im genuinely so annoyed i cant keep my words bcs this drabble is 2.5k words but i promise the next ones are gonna be under 1k 😭

Two lines. 

The first one is clear as day, and you’ve tried so hard to blind yourself from the other one that’s just barely there – barely because it’s faint but you’re not stupid and you know it is there. That it exists. That it’s crystal clear there are two. Fucking. Lines on the damned test.

Two lines. 

It’s funny how a single plastic stick can ruin your life in a matter of minutes. 

Your mother didn’t lie at all when she said that you’d know these things. That you will feel it when it’s there. A month ago you didn’t get your period and while you could have an irregular cycle sometimes, you had a bad feeling about this particular one; the fatigue didn’t feel usual, your hips and breasts are growing and it didn’t make sense. You hated key lime pie for most of your life but recently you feel like you could eat it for the rest of your days. 

That was not fucking normal. 

And when you vomited again this morning after waking up, you decided to take a test.

It was past 7pm when you got home from the drugstore, and thirty minutes had passed since then when you found out the result. There are three sticks in the strewn paper bag all over the sink – all of which shows you the same thing. 

Two damn lines. 

You’re pregnant and you don’t know what to feel about it. 

But who are you lying to? You know exactly what you feel about it. You feel like utter shit. Absolute fucking shit and there’s a lodge in your throat that breaks into a sob when it finally dawns on you that holy fuck you’re fucking pregnant. There’s a baby growing in your womb and you can barely feed yourself waiting tables at a shitty restaurant downtown. 

You cry.

Your shoulders shake as you sob silently in the lavatory of your tiny bathroom, the chipped edge of the mirror and the broken faucet reminding you once again that you are not ready for this. You’re only 23. You’re barely making ends meet. The gap year you took off school that was only supposed to be one year stretched into two because of financial issues and now… this? A kid? What would you do with a child? You aren’t ready. You just aren’t ready. 

This was not supposed to happen. 

You think that over again. This was not supposed to happen. It repeats in your head over and over again like a broken record until you break into yet again another sob.

You dig your fingers in the porcelain sink, let your body fall low as you cry until your throat hurt. Tears flowed until you felt numb inside. You wept until your body trembled, weak and unsteady, struggling to throw the sticks into the trash, wrapped as carefully as you could manage in your fragile state, afraid Jungkook might find them. 

He comes home in two hours. 

And for those two hours, you lie on the couch with tear-stained cheeks, thinking about what he would say; how he would react. 

You wish you live in the timeline where this news could be good rather than bad. Wish this could’ve brought you to tears of joy instead of… this hollow ache in your chest trapping your airflow you could barely breathe. 

But that timeline is non-existent. You’re living in the now. You’re a twenty-three-year-old woman living with your twenty-five-year-old boyfriend – and while both of you have jobs to sustain yourself in a rundown, shitty, sketchy apartment, having a kid is not ideal. It’s not in the picture. It never fit in the picture – not at all. You’ve never discussed this and you were mostly certain Jungkook would not receive this news with open arms and a wide grin. 

The thought brought you to tears again until you fell asleep. 

——— 

“Babe?”

Jungkook feels like a kid on Christmas day. He feels a bout of energy, and he wants nothing but to unleash it on you – and there are fun ways he can unleash it on you, alright �� things that you both will enjoy on this cold January night. 

He can’t help it. His grin only grows wider when he steps into the threshold of your house and the waft of home fills his nostrils. This part of town is shitty but you’ve done your best to make your apartment smell good. It’s that citrus… lavender… whatever the fuck candle you buy, Jungkook thinks.

Hah. He should’ve bought you one or two, huh? You fucking love those scented candles. You hoard the hell out of them even though they could be expensive. It’s worth it though… and with the bonus he’s holding in his wallet, why not? 

The thought only makes him smile even more. 

You’d love the news. You’d light up in that usual way you do when Jungkook does something remotely good. Anything that means he’s straying away from the destructive life he’s always led before he took your relationship seriously – you love it. And Jungkook admits he loves it, too. Loves doing good for you. Loves when he makes you happy. 

He doesn’t believe in changing for other people because fuck that, this is his own life and he does whatever he wants with it – but you’re a part of it now, a great part, and Jungkook will be damned if he loses you. He certainly did before – and for all the dumb decisions he’s made in his twenty five years, that one was the worst. 

“Baby?” he calls again when you give no answer. He’s sure you’re home by now, though, and so he crosses the distance to the threshold and living area, finding you in the couch cocooned like a burrito.

Chuckling, he steps closer and lets the cushion dip in his weight when he sits on it. You’d give him an earful if you see him letting his outside clothes touch your sheets but right now all he gives a fuck about is you hearing the news about his promotion at work. Granted, it’s not “promotion” per say, it’s just that he’s going up from being an apprentice to an actual tattoo artist at the shop. He can finally quit that job at that shit-paying convenience store and can focus fully on the shop which he actually likes doing. And he can finally get a more formal pay as well. It’s all for you. 

When Jungkook rolls you to his side, he swiped away the hair that’s gotten all over your face. You stirred, but when you wake up, Jungkook frowns. 

“What the fuck happened?” 

Your eyes are puffy and red. Swollen. You look tired, drawn, exhausted. And Jungkook couldn’t have mistaken the tear stains on your cheeks for anything other than you've been crying.

“H-huh?” You say, obviously still not fully conscious.

“Were you crying?” Jungkook asks, concern growing heavy. He tries to think if you texted him today about something – but other than your usual texts of I love yous and I miss yous, there was nothing. So what could you have been possibly crying about? 

It seems like you’ve snapped the haze of sleep off your mind because you quickly turn away from his touch, untangling yourself from the sheets and sitting upright. 

“Nothing.” 

Jungkook’s brows crease even more. 

“What?” 

“I said nothing!” You snapped, which surprised the both of you. Jungkook doesn’t have a clue what the fuck is going on – but then you turn around to look at him and you look so fragile and scared shitless and sad and broken that it just sends him into utter confusion when you stutter, “I’m– I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Jungkook says, a bit irritated now because he doesn’t like it when you skirt around what you feel. “What happened?” 

He tries to ignore the fact that when he lifts his hand to put it on your thigh, you flinch and your muscles grow tense. As if you don’t want his touch. 

“I was… I was watching a movie.” you say, lips tilting into a small smile Jungkook knows is fake. 

Now he’s just perplexed. What the fuck is all this about? You’re flinching at his touch and you can’t even look him in the eye as you fake a smile at him. 

He peels his hand away from you and stands up from the couch.

“Yeah?” He knows he has a temper. And it definitely shows when he continues to saracastically add, “Pretty fucking dramatic movie, huh?” 

You stay quiet but you definitely have a physical reaction to his sharp tone.

Every single second that passes and you still don’t utter a single word, Jungkook begins to feel like this air is growing into tension. 

And his defense mechanism gets the best of him. 

“Alright, lay it on me,” he says with a leveled tone, staring at you coldly. “Are you breaking up with me?” 

Jungkook thinks that must be it. There’s no way there’s another reason why you’re acting like this; looking at him in that solemn way. 

Two years. Two years of trying to fix him and you’ve finally reached the rim of your dam. You finally realized he’s not worth your time, that you could have so much better, be with better men, have a better life with them than whatever the fuck you have and will ever have with him. 

Jungkook’s always been aware of that. It’s not even self-deprecation, it’s just facts. 

But fuck if it didn’t hurt to confront it this way. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Two words. 

Two words and it’s enough to make Jungkook’s head spin. 

“What?” He asks again, because there’s no way you just said that. 

“I’m pregnant.” you repeat again, this time louder. Jungkook sees you inhaling a sharp breath, and it’s clear to him when your eyes begin to tear up. “I’m pregnant, Jungkook.” 

His mouth closes and opens like a fish in a tank. He goes from confused then disbelief then just… nothing. 

“You’re… you’re pregnant.”

You obviously take his tone as something different, and Jungkook can’t blame you when you snap once again. “When you put your dick in me without a condom, that’s what usually happens, so yes, I am pregnant with your child, Jungkook.” 

“You let me put my dick in you without a fucking condom,” Jungkook retorts, looking at you incredulously. “What the fuck, __? What– what happened with– are you not taking your pills?” 

“Fuck you!” You roar, venomous and mostly hurt. 

Jungkook knows you’re feeling more like the latter. 

He knows that, and yet, he decides to press more. 

“What did you fucking expect, babe? That I was gonna smile and laugh and carry and spin you around this fucking– this fucking tiny apartment?” Jungkook gestures around wildly, and he hates that when he looks at your face it's now contorted into tormented pain. Your shoulders shake as you sob silently. But his head is on a haywire and he feels like he can’t think straight. You. A baby. You two. A family. He runs a hand along his face. “We’re barely making ends meet. You wait tables while I only rely on commissions from my apprenticeship at the shop and earn shit at that convenience store five blocks away. We can barely afford the fucking AC and – and now you’re telling me you’re pregnant? What the fuck do we do with a fucking child, __?” 

“I don’t know!” You say exasperatedly, abruptly standing up from the couch. You sniff as you rub away at your eyes – red from all the crying you must have done and been doing. 

“So why the hell would you get mad at me for reacting this way?” Jungkook answers, because frankly, he doesn’t understand. And then he says the next words he thinks of, “Are you keeping it?” 

He regrets it the moment it comes out of his mouth. 

You usually look at him with so much adoration in your eyes – so genuine and loving that Jungkook gets confused sometimes – but now you look at him with nothing but pure distaste. Hatred. And even he was taken aback. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck the answer to that horrible question is. But whatever the hell I do, you decide if you want to be part of it or not – and with the way you’re acting right now, I’m assuming you want out,” you say, voice firm and full. Gone was the fragility, all Jungkook could see was a stone-cold person in front of him who didn’t give a fuck about whether or not he stays in her life. And your next words further prove that. “But there’s something I want you to know and make sure you remember this: if you walk away from me, right now, I don’t want you coming back. Ever. And I mean that. I mean that, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook stands glued there in the middle of the living space, heart squeezed to fuck and his lungs tightening as he processes your words. 

He follows your figure as you disappear in your bedroom, feeling like the room is suddenly spinning when you leave.

Jungkook lets himself fall on the sofa and for the first time in what felt like years, he cries. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Home For Christmas

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

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You get sidetracked on your way home.

Character: Andy Barber

Day Four of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - the car broke down and the snow is getting deep 

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

"It's getting bad," Andy shifts in the passenger seat, as usual, stating the obvious.  

"Yeah, just gotta be careful," you grip the wheel, leaning into it as you try to see through the falling powder. "I've driven through worse." 

"Maybe, but it's not letting up," he sits up, concerned after his cat nap. "Might be a good idea to look for a hotel or something. Even just somewhere we can pull off until it dies down." 

"It's really not that much," you argue. You just want to get home. Just a few more hours and you get to enjoy your holidays. 

"Look, I know you wanna get back for Christmas but--" 

"Shit!" You exclaim as headlights flash through the white flakes and veer away from you with a honk as you twist the wheel to avoid the other car. 

You slam on the breaks as you steer into a heaping bank, sending up puffs of snow all around you. Andy grunts as he reaches over to flip on the hazards. You catch your breath as he sighs. You hate that sound. 

"What were you saying?" He mutters. 

"That guy was in the wrong lane," you argue. "I can't help that." 

"Yeah, but if you can't see them, they can't see you." 

You keep from countering. He always has to be right. Besides, he's your boss, he's supposed to be right. It just irks you how he talks to you like a child. You're almost the same damn age as him. 

"Let me drive," he insists. 

"Andy," you shift into reverse and check the back window, "can you check your phone? See if there's anything close by." 

Your defeat is in your voice. He is right. The snows getting worse by the second. You'll be lucky to get as far as a hotel. 

"Shit," he mutters as he sits back and looks at his phone, "no signal." 

He raises it, angling it around with a tut. You chew your cheeks in agitation. That means you can't even call James to let him know you'll be late. 

"I think I saw a sign back a ways..." you drone uncertainly, once more clamping down on the wheel. "Let me know if you see anything." 

You right the nose of the car, the tires rolling without traction before finally catching. That's not good either. Of course, the snow had to wait. It had to dump in that moment, when you're finally at the end of this stupid work trip. 

You head back down the highway, tense as you feel the tenuous grip of the tires. You’re not sure you’re going to get very far. You don’t. After a sluggish advance, the car swerves as snow builds up in the tire wells and clog the axle. Once more, you barely keep control as you steer back towards the snow-buried apron. 

You roll into the window high drifts and push both feet onto the brake. You hang your head forward and groan. Andy’s hand grips the corner of your seat, his other on the dashboard. You lean back and shake your heads. 

“Well, Happy Holidays,” you huff. “Should we get out and walk.” 

“You think we’ll get far?” He asks, though you can’t tell if it’s rhetorical or not. 

“What else can we do?” You wonder with exasperation. 

“Got an emerge kit in the trunk. Seats fold down.” 

You blink at him. He can’t mean that. 

“Just until it stops. It’s only building and even if we don’t want to, there’s not much choice.” 

“We can call for help,” you suggest. 

“Even if someone could get to us, I don’t have any bars. What about you?” 

You shift into park and take out your phone. A circle with a bar. Nothing. 

“Can’t keep this on forever either. The battery will die. There’s a thermal blanket, a couple of hand warmers, food...” 

“Jesus, how long are we going to be stuck here?” You look at him. 

For the first time in all the years you’ve worked with him, Andy looks uncertain. That adds to your anxiety. He frowns and slides his hand off the seat onto your shoulder. 

“Look, it’s fine. It should be more than tonight. Snow’s supposed to let up after dusk, then we just need to wait for the plows. They usually start up at 3. Before traffic gets heavy.” He assures. 

You nod. For once, you’re happy to have a know-it-all with you. 

“Alright, so, turn off the engine.” 

You do what he says and he reaches for his door. He pushes it open and the wind blows back his hair and dusts snow into the SUV. He goes to the back of the car, disappearing into the white void. You watch nervously, trying to see through the thick flakes. 

The hatch opens and you undo your seat belt so you can crane around. “What are you doing?” 

“Gotta make sure we’re visible. I’ll hang one of the emergency vests on the back.” 

“Oh, right, can I help?” You wonder. 

“If you can get the seats down, we’re going to have to keep as much warmth as we can. Lever’s underneath,” he hollers through the wind. His cheeks are already touched pink by the snowy blast. He pulls out a neon yellow vest and closes the back up. 

You get out of the seat and pull the switch on the side to fold it forward. You climb over it and feel around the front of the backseat. You get those down as the side door opens. And climbs up, crunching himself down to fit in the tight space. 

You operate silently in unison. He gets the blankets out. Two. He suggests one for underneath and the second over you. He has bottles of water, some cold rations, and little packets that heat up for about 15 minutes when you rub them. 

As you sit on the thermal blanket he feels the front of his jacket, “damn it,” you can see the moisture around his shoulders. 

He strips it off and shivers in his dress shirt. His hair is damp too, curling at the ends. He looks at you, his blue eyes bolder as the world is white outside the windows. 

“Uh, we gotta...” 

“Yeah, sure,” you grab the blanket and pull it close. He moves next to you. There isn’t quite enough space to stretch out. You’re scrunched up as your arms touch and you lean on the slight incline of the folded seat. 

“Gonna be a long night,” he mutters. 

“Not exactly the white Christmas I hoped for,” you agree. 

You don’t complain much more. You have someone to get home to eventually. Since the divorce, Andy is rarely eager to leave work. It’s exactly the reason you’re trapped on the side of the highway. The work trip was his reason not to be alone. You feel bad for him, even if he is an ass of a boss. 

❄️ 

Your teeth chatter as you hug yourself under the blanket. Andy’s heat burns at your back but can’t warm you as the wind whistles outside the car. He turns on the car for about ten minutes at a time but hasn’t in at least two hours as the coldness sets in. It’s better to conserve the heat under the blanket. 

His arm is around you, his chin in your shoulder, resting against yours. It’s an innately intimate position, intertwined, snug, but you’re not thinking about that. You’re just thinking about the miracle of modern heating. You just need to make it through tonight. 

He shifts and shivers against you. You put your hand on his to try to warm him. You don’t feel you’re offering much as he radiates with heat. 

He sighs. God, his damn sighs. The sound that make your office days longer. 

You close your eyes but can’t sleep. You’re too anxious to settle down. Your eyes burn with fatigue but your adrenaline keeps you unsettled. 

The silence is as frigid as the weather. Both of you stopped talking a while ago. There’s nothing left to say but the obvious. You can’t wait to be out of there. You try to relax, the tension aching in your neck. 

He shifts and his hand slips from under yours. You move too, searching for comfort. His fingers rustle down your shirt and touch the front of your pants. The awkward brush makes you squirm. He drags his hand back up and presses against the bottom of your shirt. 

You go rigid again. His fingertips trace the waistband of your wool trousers. Your eyes snap open. 

He dips beneath the fabric and you suck in a stunned breath. You flinch as he tickles along your panties. You cough. 

“Andy, what--” 

He hushes you, “it’s cold...” 

Does he know what he’s doing? Maybe he’s just trying to go up your shirt but that’s not better, is it? His cheek presses against your skull as he pulls you flush to him. He delves beneath your underwear and you gasp again. 

“Andy--” 

“No one will know,” he grits. 

“No, Andy,” you grab his forearm. “You can’t-- I know you’ve been going through a lot but no--” 

His other arm snakes up from under your waist and his hand stretches across your throat. You gulp and let out another surprised squeak. He squeezes as you reach to snatch at his grip. 

“And...” 

He chokes the protest from you as he grazes along your pelvis. You wince and as he rocks his hips against you. He purrs. “Mmm, nice and tidy... like you were expecting this.” 

Your skin blazes in humiliation. You spent a little extra time trimming. You missed James terribly and his texts betrayed that the feeling was mutual. 

You croak but can’t speak. He fingertips press behind your jaw until the pain waters in your eyes. He jams his hand between your thighs. He curls against your cunt and glides between your folds. Another spark of humiliation scalds you. It’s been weeks since you had the time of energy to spend with James. You and your husband are just too busy. You’re all too responsive to the rare touch. 

The fear constricts across your ribs as your heart pound, echoing in your temples. You squeeze his wrist which only inspires him to tighten his hold on your throat. Your eyes gloss over with helplessness. You can't stop him. Not in that moment and even if you could speak, there’s no one to hear you scream for help. 

He bends his fingers until they sink past your entrance. He has no patience. He buries himself to his lowest knuckle, gripping tight so the heel of his hand is against your clit. The pressure pulses into your core. 

He tilts his hand, forming a slow rhythm that feeds a different kind of heat. The kind that burns your soul. You flick your lashes as your walls clench him and you twitch. No, no. 

Your breath picks up. You think of your husband, waiting, worried, and you’re there... he can’t ever know. Even if it’s wrong. Even if you don’t want it. 

“I’ve been so lonely,” he rasps against the brim of your ear. “I just... need to touch someone.” His desperation trembles in his voice. “You’re so warm and soft.... and wet.” 

You hear your cunt clinging to him as he rocks his hand faster and faster. The swirl of nerves flurries to a spiral. The coil twists tighter and tighter. You arch your back, pushing your ass back unthinkingly against his crotch. 

He moves in response. Rubbing his hard bulge against you. His own breath hitches as he writhes in tandem with his hand. His palm claps against you as he fucks you harder and harder, pumping himself against your ass. 

You let go of him to bite your finger. You cum in a spasm, your tears overflowing in more than shame. It’s a sense of relief, the release of the tension built of neglect and stress. He puffs furiously as he ruts against you, shaking as his voice gurgles and his rhythm turns spasmodic. 

He growls and grunts until he falls out of motion. He stills and goes slack, his hand trapped beneath your thighs as he heaves. He purrs and nuzzles your ear. 

“I won’t tell him if you don’t,” he grits. 

[bbybaku]

BOY NEXT DOOR SHIG

i actually really like this one. like might be my fav thing I've ever posted lol. slow burn i fear. ends w smut. as always

follows the American academic calendar sorry its all i know and it'll make sense why at the end

5k ish words (sorry idk how this one got so long)

warnings: uhh slow burn, smut, multiple positions, make out, dirty talk, choking, dom shig, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism

you went to college a little over an hour away from where your parents lived.

which meant you only really went home and stayed with them on school breaks. Summer, Thanksgiving, Christmas break.

You didnt think or wish to be back at your parent's house, your whole life was at college. Your friends, your stuff, your job.

That was until your parents got a new neighbor over the summer.

He was tall and kind of lanky. He had long fluffy blueish-white hair that was a little past his shoulders and always slightly in his face.

You saw him and what looked like his dad moving in.

Their new house was the one right next to your bedroom window.

Your parents went next door to introduce themselves. They came back and told you that the boy was only a year older than you and he was also in college.

You asked more questions, what school? What is his name? Does he live at home? is he on social media?

but they said they didnt know. They told you to go over and introduce yourself but you had a better idea.

You knew better then to open your bedroom window. For all you knew the new boys dad could be in the room directly next to yours.

But you did it anyway. You took down the curtains, opened the blinds and opened your window.

It was summer after all.

You never got the opportunity to talk to the boy over the summer.

You saw him in passing.

He was akward. When you saw him in the neighborhood he would give you one of those closed-mouth smiles and lift his hand in a wave. he was so hot in one of those loser-man type of ways.

You also saw him doing yard work. He never took his shirt off but he had more muscle on on than you initially thought.

Luckily, the neighbor boy also took the bedroom across from yours and he seemed to notice your open window.

Sometimes in the evenings he would open his too.

there was a little bit of distance between the houses but you could still occasionally hear the music he was listening to, you could hear him talking while he was gaming, and sometimes you would wait until he was in his bedroom with his window open to change clothes.

you hoped he would notice. maybe even take interest.

but as the summer ended and you packed up for school you knew you had to accept that it was too soon. you knew it needed time.

as the semester progressed you tried to forget the neighbor boy. you went out with you friends, you went to class, and you lived your life but he was always there in the back of your mind.

no matter where you were or what you were doing you couldn’t help but think of him. what he was doing, where he was, his long slender hands, the veins on his forearms. when you would listen to him talk to his friends. if he had a girlfriend.

obsession is a big word but you were swiftly approaching it with how often you thought about him.

when you went home for thanksgiving in mid-november you were actually ecstatic, unlike your usual sadness to have to leave your life behind. not this time, you were going to get to see him.

even if if was in passing or if it was just listing to him play video games through his window.

something was anything.

and anything was something.

just like he did over the summer he opened his window in the evening.

you tried not to stare into his house but it was much more decorated and lived in than it had been over the summer.

he had posters on his walls, better lighting, furniture arranged to be more fung shiu, and dirty clothes on the ground.

what you would do to get a hold of his dirty laundry.

he still played video games at night and listened to music.

you still changed infront off the window.

you two saw each other in passing and he did the same thing he did over the summer.

a closed mouth smile and his hand would lift up as a wave.

but now your parents and his dad were friends so they had more to tell you about him.

you had to play it cool they couldn't know that you were obsessed, no you were asking out of morbid curiosity.

your parents told you his name was tomura shigaraki. his dad adopted him, it was just the two of them, he was a year older than you and he was in computer science.

and no it did not seem like he had a girlfriend.

you had to hide your excitement.

how much did he know about you? was he even interested?

as your excitement began to dwindle and you got ready to leave home and go back to school for the last few weeks of the semester you herd someone call out your name.

you looked up and sure enough getting out of his car was the neighbor boy, tomura.

“hey! you’re (y/n) right?”

you tried to control yourself. you knew your face had to be beet red.

“oh yeah hey”

“well i just wanted to say hello" a pause. he looked around a little awkwardly, then finished his train of thought "im tomura.”

you gave a small smile “it was nice to meet you tomura, i guess ill see you around”

he did his little wave and went inside.

you could feel the butterflies in your stomach.

you couldn’t get his devious little grin out of your head.

he had to be interested. you two were the same age and the same demographic. he was a loser and you were beautiful.

if you weren’t obsessed before, now there was no denying it.

the last three weeks of the semester went by agonizingly slow. even your friends noticed your distracted demeanor.

you chose not to tell them. you didn’t want to ruin the magic. and you didn’t want to sound delusional about the neighbor you’ve been stalking and only spoken to once.

when the semester finally ended you were practically already packed and ready to head home.

you spent the entire drive trying to calm yourself down. knowing you had to play it cool around the neighbor boy. around tomura.

you got home and pulled into the driveway, you noted that his car was in his driveway.

you walked in the front door and were met with not only your parents, but also tomura and his dad.

your eyes instantly met.

you dropped the bag you were carrying.

“oh hey” you said not breaking eye contact.

“uhh what’s up” he said sounding nervous but there was no denying that he was happy to see you.

your parents introduced the two of you. he awkwardly shook your hand. you could feel how clammy they were.

your mom announced that tomura and his father would be coming to their yearly holiday party that they throw every year.

you had to rein in your excitement.

“oh, I'm excited to see you guys there”

they left and you immediately went upstairs to scream into your pillow, with your window closed of course.

the holiday party's theme was to wear holiday-esc clothes, you knew who would be there so of course you wore a little black dress and a santa hat.

you saw tomura walk in but you didn't approach him, not yet.

he was wearing a collared shirt under an oversized dark green sweater with Christmas symbols on it that looked thrifted.

you helped yourself to the access of alcohol that both your parents and their guests provided.

you had left your window closed the last few days in anticipation of seeing him tonight.

you noticed he was drinking a beer. your eyes met from across the room. he was standing next to his dad, talking to a group of neighbors.

you were talking to a different neighbor, an old lady who was telling you to dress more modestly.

you risked a glance. he was checking you out. how little you left to the imagination in your little dress.

he caught your eyes and blushed, looking away instantly. he was back into the conversation as soon as he looked away and you looked back.

you excused your self for more alcohol.

you talked to your mom

felt the warm effects of the alcohol.

made eyecontact with tomura.

talked to some more of the party guests

more prolonged eye contact.

You were laying it on thick with your "fuck me eyes"

after what felt like an eternity of dancing around each other finally, your parents were talking to him and his dad.

you joined the circle, only a little motivated by the alcohol you had been drinking all night.

the alcohol that mad the blood rush between your legs a little more than usual.

your parents were asking him about college. he answered their question but was staring at you.

"- yeah I dont really have plans after graduation I'll probably just go wherever the wind takes me kind of thing"

he didnt take his eyes off you. even after he finished talking. he was a good head taller than you. his hair had gotten longer but it still looked good on him. you noticed the contrast of his light hair against his dark eyebrows. he was well-groomed. clean shaven. you wondered what he would look like first thing in the morning with stubble and no shirt on-

"Y/n?"

"Sorry?"

"they were asking about your plans after college"

"Oh um- Im also not sure yet, Ive been looking into grad school but I'm still on the fence,"

your eyes flicked to tomura, an invitation.

"Now, if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go get some water."

he took the bait, "I think im gonna get some water too"

he followed you to the makeshift bar on the kitchen island.

you poured yourself another drink.

he cracked open another beer

“so what are you drinking?”

he shrugged and took a sip

“doesn’t taste very good”

you simply nodded. you could feel the heat on your cheeks. all these months of thinking about him and now you have absolutely nothing to say.

“so you study-“

“can we quit it with the small talk?”

he stepped closer to you and wrapped his free a hand around your waist, he leaned down so that his mouth was right next to your ear.

he said it just quietly enough that only you could hear, “i don’t want to act like i haven’t been jerking off to you changing in front of your open window and you can’t act like you’re not the little slut who opens her window and gets naked for me.”

you flushed. your blood should be cold from the embarrassment but it wasn't.

it was the opposite.

you felt like you were on fire.

it felt like your excitement was pooling in your underwear.

you realized he was still holding on to you, he hadn't moved.

it was like you and tomura were the last two people on earth. your surroundings a blur,

"wanna get out of here"

"yes. yes please" you whispered.

"thats what i like to hear"

he took your hand and walked you to the back hallway of the party since so many people were blocking the front door and the stairs.

he stopped you in front of one of the doors.

you wanted him so bad that a drunk makeout next to the guest bedroom was enough.

your back was against the wall and one of his hands was leaning against the wall next to your head.

"do you ever think about me when you're away?" he whispers.

you run a hand down his chest. stomach. brush your fingers against something else.

something hard.

"all the fucking time" you whisper back.

he doesn't say anything.

he pins your back to the wall with his body. his hand runs through your hair.

his hand does it again.

youre looking down.

his hand grabs your jaw and forces you to look up him.

he inspects your face, eyes lingering on your lips,

and then he kisses you.

not a little gentle kiss.

your mouth is met by his wet open mouth.

your hands locked around his neck, one of his hands found your waist and the other was in your scalp.

you could feel his hard on.

you rubbed your sex on him and he sucked in a breath while kissing you.

his tongue was exploring your mouth, he wanted in while simultaneously sucking on your bottom lip and biting your tongue.

tomura was warm, he smelled like ocean and spice and laundry detergent. he was all you wanted and more.

he pulled away from the kiss and took a step away from you. he wiped your mouth with his sleeve and then wiped his.

an old man you recognized as one of your moms coworkers wandered back into the hallway.

you quickly understood why tomura just pulled away.

“this isn’t the bathroom” he said looking between the two of you.

you and tomura look at each other and fake a laugh.

his face was flushed, his hair a mess, and your there was a tint the color of your lipstick around his mouth.

"oh yeah we were just talking about college. the bathroom is that way." you pointed to where the party was happening

the man smiled and walked away.

once he was gone you and tomura went right back to what you were doing.

this one wasn’t like the first one though.

it was rougher. it was something more

tomura grabbed your jaw with one hand and squeezed your ass with the other, saying between passionate kisses,

“you have no idea how badly i’ve wanted this”

he pulled on your hair, forcing your head to angle up towards his face.

you can’t ignore his big strong hands, the length of his fingers, the veins on his arms just peeking out from under his rolled up sweater sleeves.

your santa hat must have fallen off a while ago.

his other hand on your ass kneaded it like it was bread dough.

he grabbed at your ass by the handful, pulling on the skin and fat and muscle before letting it go, occasionally feeling your waist, the swell of your hips, and then going right back in for your ass and repeating the process.

his tongue explored the inside of your mouth like it belonged to him. he sucked on your bottom lip, shoved his tongue in, sucked on your mouth with his entire mouth all in no particular order.

you pressed your hips into him and liked what you found.

with one arm wrapped around his neck, you other massaging his scalp and occasionally pulling his hair, a signal to him to come closer to you.

you moved back and into him again. grinding against him. he was hot and hard.

you removed your hand from his scalp and palmed his member.

he pulled off your mouth but not your body and let out a shaky breath.

“if we start with that i won’t be able to stop” he whispered into your hair.

“who said that’s a bad thing” you whipered back.

you could feel his smile against you even though you couldn’t see his face, “i never said it was bad but maybe we should find somewhere more private”

“can we sneak out to your place?”

this was when he pulled his body off of yours and you could see his smirk, “i think that’s a great idea.”

the two of you tried to tidy each other up as best as you could but there was no denying the fact the the two of you just did something. both of your cheeks were flushed, hair was ruffled, and clothes disheveled.

there was also no denying his excitement. you pulled his sweater down to help him attempt the hide the tent in his pants.

he mumbled out a "thanks" and looked away blushing.

he walked out into the party first, raising his eyebrows at you as he said to meet him outside in ten minutes.

you counted to 100 before entering the party so as not to look suspicious.

you didn’t want your parents old and nosy friends know yours and tomura’s business.

you found your parents and stood in on their conversation. casually looking around every chance you got to find him. you spotted him in the kitchen standing next to his dad talking to a woman.

he was standing with his hands in his pockets, slouching, his cheeks still pink, his lips a little swollen, and his his looked like someone had just ran their hands through it.

you noticed you were staring. then you noticed he was staring at you too. he gave you a small smile and he pointed his head toward the front door.

you gave him a small nod in agreement.

you whispered to your mom that you were going to go sit outside and to not worry about you.

she had a few drinks in her system and was more concerned about her holiday party than whatever nonsense her daughter was up to, so it was easy to slip away.

you instantly started walking towards the front door when you felt a hand grab yours. you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

the next five minutes were a blur.

your hand in his.

running over to his house.

his frantic effort to unlock the front door.

instantly making out against the front door once inside.

running up the stairs with him right behind you.

hands intertwined.

barely making it to his room before, once again, aggressively making out against his closed bedroom door.

tomura peeled your desss off in one fluid motion and picked you up throwing, you on his bed.

he whipped his sweater off, and climbed on top of you.

you began to undo the buttons on his white button down but he stopped you,

"ah ah, not yet. its my turn"

he pulled one of your breasts out of your bra, nipple already hard, and put his mouth around your nipple.

his right hand finds yours, interlocking fingers and pressing you to the bed.

his left hand finds your other breast and kneads on it. pulling on your nipple, grabbing the flesh with his palm and fingers.

all while milking your other.

his mouth sucking and teeth bruising there was nothing you could do to conceal the unholy wimpers he coaxed out of you.

his eyes find yours.

“look at me” he says then resumes what he was doing.

your mind couldn't form coherent thoughts.

the only thing you could focus on was the pleasure you were experiencing at his hands.

and mouth.

your hips find his.

you could feel his rock-hard member in his pants.

your free hand finds his member between the two of you and you rub your hand up and down him over his pants.

he inhales shakily.

"mmm not yet" he whispered into your breast.

he maneuvers to switch sides, his mouth now on the opposite breast and his hand cupping the breast his mouth was just on.

your back arches and you moan as his mouth makes contact.

you couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hips against his again.

he bit your nipple in response, getting a yelp out of you.

you knew for sure by now that you were soaked through your panties.

since Tomura had taken your dress off your arousal was evident but his attention was still on your breasts.

he was holding one of your hands and the other was in his hair, nails scratching circles on his scalp and occasionally pulling on his hair.

your hips still moving against his you gave a tug on his hair for his attention.

he kept his mouth where it was but stopped what he was doing, lazily looking up.

you pet his hair and whispered "can we please?" pushing your hips into his for emphasis.

he raised his eyebrows slowly.

he removed his mouth from your nipple dramatically with a loud sucking noise.

he sat up and switched the position he was in to now hold down both of your wrists with one of his hands and to hold your hips down with the other,

"I said not yet,"

and he turned his attention to the nipple he had previously been working on.

you thought you couldn't have been more aroused but with his new found control over you? you could have come just from the sight of him.

your hips struggled against his arm, seeking any form of release as you whimpered in pleasure from the love he gave to your nipple.

you came out of your trance and realized he was still fully clothed and you were still wearing your bra and underwear.

he removed himself from you slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and pushing his mane of hair out of his face.

you were breathing heavily and slightly disoriented from what he had just done.

"lets get rid of these, shall we?"

he started to pull off your underwear. and you went ahead and removed your bra.

"it cant be fair that im the only one who's naked?"

you motioned to him still being almost fully dressed save for the sweater he had been wearing over his now half unbuttoned button-down shirt.

shigaraki sighed and began unbuttoning his shirt

"I thought you preferred to be naked?" he looked up at you and smirked "or are you just a show off?"

you didnt really have a good response to his call out so all you could do was stare at him.

you watched him undress making sure to emphasize one of your signature looks, the fuck me eyes.

he definitely noticed your gaze.

he smirked back at you as he stood up and shucked off his pants.

Leaving him in nothing but a pair of blue plaid boxers.

your favorite.

he crawled back onto the bed and sat on his knees in between your legs, where you lay on your back. head propped up with pillows and still panting from what his magic mouth and fingers just did with your nipples.

he locked eyes with you, hooked his hands underneath your knees, and pulled your bottom half up to him.

he pushed your legs up, essentially folding you in half as he brought his mouth down to yours.

He kissed you sweetly and deeply. with care but also disrespect like he would stop if you asked you him to but you were pulling him closer, scratching his back, and grinding against his member.

so he squeezed your thigh, groped your boob a little tighter, and explored the cavern of your mouth a bit deeper with his tongue.

his hand previously on your tit found your throat. he choked you as his mouth pulled from yours.

the pressure of his hand caused your mouth to open, searching for air and only getting a little bit of it.

he squeezed tighter as he licked down the column of your neck and back up.

kissing your mouth lightly one last time as he released your throat and started kissing down your body.

kissing down to your soaking wet sex.

his hand stroked your face at first. he kissed your jaw, your neck, your chest, booth boobs, your navel, then he found the space between your legs. he lifted your legs over his shoulders and started kissing you there too.

he kissed your clit similarly to how he kissed your mouth at first. softly. respectfully. passionately. like he was waiting for permission.

you gave it to him by grabbing a handful of hair and rubbing yourself against his face. you could feel his nose and his smirk on your sweet spot.

he took your invitation, and you could hear him inhale through his nose he grabbed two handfuls of your ass and went to work.

with his mouth on your clit you could feel him sucking on it, lapping his tongue against it, and eventually sticking two fingers into your sopping entrance.

you couldn't hold your moans in. especially once his veiny, long-fingered hand was pumping in and out.

your first orgasm didnt even build it just ripped through you, without anything you could have done to stop it.

shigaraki, satisfied enough with his handy work sat up and whipped your wet from his mouth with the back of his hand.

you could have orgasmed again from the sight of his flushed cheeks and messy hair in the ambient lighting of his bedroom.

"your so fucking hot" you couldn't stop yourself from saying.

his hazy eyes found yours "You should see yourself right now" he gave you that smirk after he said it.

there was no hiding his arousal. he pulled his boxers down and his member sprang free.

he was hung.

8 inches long and thick.

all you could do was stare your mouth slightly open and your blood pumping between your legs.

"you like what you see i take it," he says that fucking smirk on his face.

all you could do was nod your head.

he spits on the tip and starts pumping himself as he moves forward toward you.

he hooks his arm under your right leg and maneuvers himself between your legs.

"you ready?"

you hum in response

"mmm i need a yes"

"yes, I am ready"

"good girl, thats what i like to hear,"

he inserts himself slowly, you feel the familiar sting of being stretched out

tomura pauses, looking at you as if asking permission to continue.

your hand is covering your mouth but you nod for him to continue.

he does.

you look down to see that he is not even halfway in.

"oh my god" you whisper "its so fucking big"

he just smiles, not losing his focus on what he is doing.

once hes almost all the way in he pauses again, looking at you for permission to continue.

"can you start moving slowly?"

he doesn't acknowledge your words other than thrusting in and out as slowly as he can,

with each thrust in you couldnt with hold your whimpers.

tomura was slowly increasing speed and how deep he was going,

"is this okay" he asked his breath slightly shaking

"oh my god yea" you struggle to get out

he pushes the leg hooked. under his arm up higher and finally bottoms out in you,

you both moan.

"fuck, youre so tight,"

"you youre so big"

his hand hound your face and stroked your cheek before he took your jaw in his hand,

"youre so fucking beautiful"

you could feel your heart flutter in your chest as he pounded in and out of you and an unholy speed.

"lets switch positions"

you hum in response, so fucked out that you couldn't form coherent words.

he grabs a pillow and flips you over, shoving the pillow underneath your hips.

he taps the small of your back, you spread your knees and arch your back for him, grabbing one of the other pillows to hold in your arms.

tomura grabs hold of your hips and inserts himself, going in smoother this time.

just because the entry was easier did not mean the new angle was any mind boggling.

and tomura was not holding himself back in the slightest, he moaned once he was all the way in and wasted no time in absolutely fucking the shit out of you.

you didnt know it was possible for a human being to experience pleasure like this. your second orgasm of the night rips through you with an inhuman moan.

tomura gathers up your hair and pulls you toward him,

"came again so soon? thats my girl"

he wraps one hand around your throat the other finds your shoulder to use as leverage as he continues to fuck you from behind.

his thrusts begin to stutter losing speed and consistency,

"im close i wanna see your face"

"okay" you say through breaths

he once again flips you over, pumping himself as you readjust the pillows under your head and hips,

tomura heaves your legs up and enters you one last time.

your hands find the back of his head and you pull his face up to yours as he resumes his no longer consistent pace.

his hand finds your throat and your other hand finds his bicep, squeezing at the cords of muscle,

you look up at him slowly, from the sight of his cock entering in and out of you, his muscular upper body, to his big red eyes staring down at you. watching you watch him.

one last orgasm rips through you, starting in your stomach and then spreading to your core and to the rest of your body.

tomura finishes at the same time as you, pulling out and coming all over your stomach and boobs.

the two of you just sit there for a moment. both of you breathing heavy. both of you fucked out of your minds.

tomura is the first to break the silence.

he swallows and rubs his jaw,

"do you think we should go back to the party because I kind of want to do that again?"

m.list

[skzstannie]

"Let the memory-making commence"

SKZ -> ot8 x 9th member! reader

genre: fluff wc: ~2100 cw: none :) summary: After an emotional night, the boys cheer you up and try to give you something to look forward to surrounding the holidays again.

Here's Part 2 to "We'd never want you to struggle alone" Alsooo, I hit 100 followers a couple days ago, so THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Reblogs are more than appreciated!

Happy Scrolling! || Masterlist

Previously:

You all lay in each other's arms, and you feel incredibly comfortable and safe. Chan's the first to break the silence, "We have five days left until Christmas. What do you say we make some new Christmas traditions? We don't want to replace what you used to have, and you’re entitled to spend your Christmas season as you'd like. But, if you'll let us, we’ll give you something to look forward to about the holidays again. Please?" The guys are all looking at you now, each of them displaying a face that could rival a sad puppy.

You realize now that there's nothing to be scared of. These are your best friends you're talking about, who want nothing but to shower you in love and happiness.

"I'd love that."

So, the guys set out on their mission early the next morning, figuring they better start as soon as possible. After all, they had so many fun things they wanted to do with you before Christmas Day.

You were abruptly brought out of your peaceful slumber from an added weight landing atop your stomach. You startle, opening your eyes to be met with Hyunjin’s hair brushing up against your cheeks. You try to push him off you, holding up your title of being a grumpy morning person, but he won’t budge.

“Get up!” he whines, shaking your shoulders. “It’s already 8:30, and we can’t just let you sleep all day!”

“I’m not asking to sleep all day. I’m asking to sleep until 10, now please get off,” you struggle some more, pushing with all your might. You quickly give up though, finding your attempts futile against Hyunjin’s size and stubbornness.

“No can do, up and at ‘em sunshine!” he grips your blankets and whips them off you in a flash, leaving you shivering from the cold temperature of your room. He’s quick to throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and he begins to make his way out of your room.

Your fists pound on his back, your only desire to go lay back down in your warm bed. This doesn’t deter him however, so you give him a nice firm smack to his butt, making him yelp. You swiftly wrap your arms around his waist as he lets you slip a little off his shoulder.

“Hwang Hyunjin don’t you drop me!” you yell, holding onto him for dear life.

“I won’t, I won’t. That just hurt really bad, you little menace!” He puts you down once you’ve arrived in the kitchen, and his hands immediately reach back to massage his poor bum.

“Well, that wouldn’t have been necessary if you’d have let me sleep another hour,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Ok, no more Ms. Grumpy Pants, I only wanna make cookies with Ms. Sunshine, so if you could please find out where she is, that'd be great,” he retorts, a sarcastic smile taking over his features.

You roll your eyes but give in, allowing your lips to curve up into a genuine smile.

Hyunjin starts to gather the ingredients for making cookies, slamming cupboards left and right. As you busy yourself doing the same, you look up towards the kitchen entryway upon hearing some ruckus from the hallway. Seungmin and Felix practically bounce into the kitchen, looking way too excited for 8:30 in the morning.

Seungmin makes his way over to you, holding an extra apron that he plops over your head, tying it loosely around your waist. “Thanks Minnie,” you tell him, turning around to give his arm a gentle pat.

“Alright, let the memory-making commence,” Felix claps his hands and giving them a quick wash in the sink, reaching for a stainless steel bowl Hyunjin had set on the counter. “If we wait too much longer, everybody else will get up and crash our cookie making party.”

All was going smoothly, the four of you working together and following a recipe Felix had printed out, until Seungmin got a little antsy and decided to flick Hyunjin in the forehead with a flour-covered finger.

Seungmin laughs at seeing Hyunjin’s expression. “Flour boy,” he calls Hyunjin, breaking out in even more giggles.

In retaliation, Hyunjin grabs a fistful of flour and launches it at Seungmin’s face, leaving the poor boy coughing.

Of course, all hell breaks loose after that, and by the end of your food fight, all four of you end up absolutely covered in flour with a single egg plastered against the fridge door.

You guys managed to finish the cookies, having barely enough flour to make the batches. Once they’ve gone in the oven, the four of you decide to go shower and get cleaned up while they bake.

All the other guys have woken up by the time you’re finished with your shower. They’re all sat around the kitchen, the aroma from the cookies no doubt drawing them in. Chan goes over the plans for today, and you smile at his thoughtfulness. After breakfast- a.k.a Christmas cookies- you’re all going to go sledding, then come back to the dorms for dinner and a Christmas movie marathon.

After you’ve all eaten one too many cookies, everyone goes to get dressed for your first group activity of the day: sledding.

You realize you don’t have any appropriate clothing for sledding, the snow sure to seep through the nice coat you have, so you ask Seungmin if he has any extra garments that'll keep you warmer.

"Yea, let me find some really quick," he responds, diving deep into his well-organized closet. He comes up with two pairs of gloves, one slimmer and one thicker, a thermal, long sleeved turtle neck, a hoodie, and a huge winter coat.

"All of this will not fit on my body at once, Seungmin," you comment exasperatedly, overwhelmed by the weight of the clothes he just threw in your arms.

"Yes they will, and you will be warm. Go get dressed, we're leaving in a few minutes," he dismisses your concerns, leaving no room for discussion. He gives you a light push out of his room so he could get himself dressed and shuts the door in your face.

"Thanks!" you shout through the door, heading back to your room to layer up.

After putting on all the clothes Seungmin gave you, you feel like a marshmallow. A big puff ball, if you will.

You walk to the living room where everyone is waiting for you, ready to complain about how you are not going out in public like this.

They are quick to rebut, telling you how adorable you look while pulling you out the front door towards the readied van in the parking lot.

The drive is uncomfortable, all your winter gear making you all hot, everyone fitting a little tighter in their seats than normal. The ride is short, though, only about 10 minutes before you're all allowed freedom of the outside once again.

You let out a small chuckle upon seeing the hill you'll be sledding down. It's small, no taller than 20 feet, but the guys assure you it'll still be fun. Upon some further digging, you find out you're manager requested you partake in absolutely zero dangerous activities during your day off, and this is all the guys could convince him of.

You guys make your way up the hill, Jeongin and Felix dragging the sleds up. To make things more interesting, everyone decides two people will race down the hill at the same time, and the winner will be decided tournament-style.

Chan and Hyunjin go first, and Hyunjin wins by just a few feet. Next is Felix and Minho, and Minho pulls out ahead. Seungmin and Changbin go next, and Changbin wins by default because Seungmin wiped out about half way down the hill. You and Jeongin, being the maknaes, decide to team up against everyone else and ride together. Of course, this doesn't go without complaints from the rest of the members, Hyunjin giving you guys the nastiest side eye he could muster. The maknaes come out on top, beating Jisung by a landslide. Maybe it's because your sled had twice as much weight on it, or maybe it's because you guys are just better; it's up for debate.

By the end of the day, you and Jeongin reign champions. You all continue to sled for a while longer, and eventually your peaceful sledding session turned into a brutal snowball fight.

The culprit of the snowball fight was Minho, deciding it'd be fun to shove a handful of snow down Jisung's jacket. This of course lead to the development of two teams, Maknae line versus Hyung line.

You guys pelt the oldies for a few minutes, obviously gaining the upper-hand once your makeshift snow fort was built, courtesy of Felix and Jisung. However, you guys surrender once Jeongin is captured and threatened with handfuls of snow down his pants.

Once arriving at home, hot showers are in need, all your fingers and toes frozen to the bone. You get dressed in your coziest pyjamas, accompanied by a big hoodie and fluffy socks.

Chan takes it upon himself to order food in for everyone, and you all thank him before deciding on which Christmas movie to watch.

You reveal that one of your favorites used to be How the Grinch Stole Christmas, the Jim Carrey version, and everyone agrees to start with that one.

Your food arrives about a third of the way into the movie, and you all indulge on the much needed meal. You have some more Christmas cookies for dessert, and by the time you're finished with the food, the movie is over.

You all make light fun of Hyunjin for crying over the ending, but allow him to choose the next movie to try and put a stop to his dramatics. He chooses National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, and you're thankful for another comedy.

While the day has been quite fun, watching movies isn't as thought-provoking as a snowball fight, allowing some of your anxieties and negative thoughts to creep into the back of your mind.

You miss your family. You miss the way your grandma used to sit and listen to all your school drama and the way she'd gasp when you'd tell her what your best friend had done for a boy. You miss the way your father used to buy you a pair of earrings every year for Christmas. You still had every pair, your first being cute little bunny studs, and your last being a beautiful pair of Sterling Silver hoops. You miss your grandfather's sarcastic remarks; your mom found them insulting but you always thought they were funny. You miss your mom. Everything about her- her home cooking, her hugs, the way she'd always know what to put in your stocking.

You know now, after today, that it's okay to miss those things. You're supposed to miss your loved ones. However, it is not okay to live in the past and despise change. Your mom would've wanted you to celebrate Christmas with a family as loving as the one you have here surrounding you. You know she would've loved your members, every single one of them.

She would've loved the way I.N was your partner in crime in life, never backing down when you ask him if he wants to prank Chan with you. She would've loved the way Seungmin acted like your older brother, teasing you every chance he gets. She would've loved how happy Felix is, always acting as your light in the darkness. She would've been proud of Han for fighting through his anxiety and how he helped you with yours, never letting you feel alone. Your mom would've loved Hyunjin's art, the way he paints his soul on paper with a singular brush. Your mom would've been impressed by Changbin's health journey and motivation, and she probably would've secretly convinced him to drag you to the gym with him. Your mom would've admired Minho's gentleness towards animals and his love for his cats. Lastly, your mom would've loved the way Chan takes care of you, always making sure you're happy and well.

Thinking back to yesterday and how thoughtful and caring everyone had been, you decide to tell them your creeping thoughts. They, of course, comfort you, Changbin pulling you closer from your spot between him and Minho on the couch. They ask if you want to elaborate on your feelings, but you tell them no. It had been such a fun day, and for the sake of your mental health, you choose to try and busy your mind with the plot of the movie.

This works in your favor, and you’re able to replace your thoughts with laughter. Towards the end of the film, Changbin's comforting hold has begun to lull you to sleep, too comfortable and warm to keep your eyes open any longer.

"Thank you guys for such an amazing day. I had a lot of fun," you mumble into Changbin's shoulder, pulling everyone away from the movie for a second.

You hear a chorus of coos and whispered affirmations before you officially let sleep takeover your restless mind and body.

[penkura]

Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Summary: Straw Hat Christmas parties are always large events, but you wish Sanji would stop and join you all for more than a few minutes at a time.

Note: Just another with a small moment in it, I couldn't help myself but to do it with Sanji. :)

You’ve known from the start that when the Straw Hats party, they party and it’s always a big event, no matter what the reason for it. It’s a given that whatever you might be partying about, there’s going to be copious amounts of food and drink, all prepared by your crew’s amazing chef.

It seems like Sanji never gets to take a break, you’ve always hated that part about these parties, despite loving his food. You wish he’d take a break, join you all out on the deck for more than a few minutes at a time, only to hurry back to the kitchen for whatever he was cooking. You hated watching him start to relax only to be dragged back in there, even if the kitchen was almost a safe haven for Sanji, he deserved to take a proper break like the rest of you.

It’s not even that Luffy has asked for more food in the last hour, there’s plenty made, but Sanji knows your captain will be asking for more later, he’s trying to keep ahead and it’s leaving him without a moment to breathe anymore.

You hate watching him do this to himself, overworking even when he should be taking a break. When you see Sanji go back into the kitchen, after leaving for not even five minutes, you huff and lean against Nami, making her raise an eyebrow at you.

“What’s gotten to you?”

You nod your head towards the kitchen and she knows what you’re saying without a word, Nami sighs and shakes her head.

“Ever the one serve without a break…maybe he’d come relax for a while if you talked to him.

“Why would he listen to me? I think you’d be the better option, Nami.”

Nami rolls her eyes, pushing you off her lightly and towards the kitchen.

“No, definitely you. Go get him out here already!”

You’re confused but do as Nami says, heading for the kitchen with every intention of bringing Sanji back out on deck with you. You have a slight idea that Nami knows something you don’t, or she’s seen how Sanji seems to go with you no matter what you’re doing or where you’re going, though you don’t think there’s anything more there.

You slip into the kitchen easily, Sanji normal leaves the door unlocked when he’s working in there anyway, especially if you, Nami, or Robin need anything. When you get in there you smile to yourself seeing Sanji is relaxing a bit, he’s taken a break probably while something is in the oven, sitting the table with his head in his arms on the table, like he’s trying to fall asleep. You’ve caught Sanji sleeping like this before late in the evenings after dinner, always deciding to surprise him by wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind and convincing him to go on to bed. Of course it’s how you decide to try and get him to join the rest of you, he’s not even surprised when you do it, Sanji’s so used to you coming to get him at anytime of day now.

“Sanji, come take a break with us! You’ve been doing too much for this party.”

“I will,” Sanji sighs and pats one of your hands, making you frown when he goes to get up again, “I just want—”

“No, now, Sanji,” you grab his hand to keep him from going back to the oven,  causing him to give you a confused look, “Please. You deserve to take some time off just like the rest of us…things can wait until later.”

Sanji knows that you’re right, he gets that, and he wants to keep working so all of you had enough to eat and drink. He’s aware that it’s not exactly a healthy work ethic, but it’s all he’s ever known. He’d rather have everything ready before he takes a break, even with you giving him the look that always makes him give into what you want.

“Its fine, you know…I don’t mind working if it means you all get to relax.”

“But everyone wants you out there already!”

“Everyone, huh?”

“Hmm,” pretending to think, you glance away briefly as Sanji laughs a bit with a nod. “Maybe Zoro doesn’t care, but…I want you to come join us already…”

There’s just a moment before Sanji sighs with a nod, you grinning as he turns around to turn the oven off, removing whatever was in it and taking off his apron. You give him a tight hug when he comes over to you, Sanji kisses the top of your head in return before pulling away and taking your hands.

“Well, let’s go back to everyone then, yeah?”

“Yeah, let’s do that!”

[littleslaywrites]

we need a little christmas | aaron hotchner x reader

summary: aaron comes home after work one day to you decorating for christmas

word count: 1.1k

cw: f!reader, pure fluff

The candle you had lit filled the room with the smell of pine. Boxes of old decorations you brought when you moved in with Aaron sat next to bags from the Target run you took with Jack that afternoon. 

You have always been a decorator, looking forward to every holiday. Even in college, you decorated the door of your dorm at every chance possible. To you, it was never too early to decorate. 

Even though Halloween was your favorite holiday, Christmas started right when the clock struck midnight on November 1st. Your Christmas playlist was in heavy rotation from that point on, and a shopping spree for anything festive would always follow. 

You had restrained yourself this year, it being your first living with Aaron. That was, until you were in Target with Jack, simply there for an after school run for some laundry detergent. Jack dragged you into the section with the blow-up santas and snowmen, causing your eyes to wander to the rest of the decorations in the surrounding area. 

Before you knew it, you had piled the cart with a snowglobe, a nutcracker, two packages of lights, window clings, assorted throw pillows, and a Star Wars ornament for the tree (Jack’s choice). 

Back at home, you opened up the supply closet to get out the boxes of old Christmas decorations that you hadn’t even seen since moving in with Aaron. You were singing along to your favorite Christmas songs while transforming the living room into a winter wonderland. You made sure to keep a space for the tree, ornaments finding themselves in a pile next to the area. Jack sifted through them, choosing his favorites and asking you about ones you’d collected throughout your lifetime.

You’re in the middle of arranging snowflake shaped pillows on the couch when Aaron walks through the door. The smell from your new candle brings back memories of past Christmases, and he smiles at the picture of you and Jack decorating. 

“What’s all this?” he asks, looking down at the half-emptied boxes on the floor. 

“I thought it was about time to get decorating for Christmas,” you say, setting the last pillow down. 

“Are you aware it’s not even Thanksgiving yet?”

“You should be glad I waited this long,” you smile, moving back to collapse one of the empty boxes. “Usually I’d start right after Halloween.”

He just laughs, making his way to sit with Jack on the floor. He looks through the ornaments, each one a reminder of your past before him: the In N Out logo (your first job), an illustration of your sorority house in college, a macaroni one with your fifth grade school picture. His heart feels warmer at the thought of your lives coming together, the potential of all future ornaments being shared memories. 

“Do you want hot chocolate?” you ask, reaching for some mugs in the cabinet above the sink. 

“Sure,” he says, watching Jack hurry to the kitchen to help. Aaron would’ve never chosen to decorate this early, or at all, really. He never had the time, nor the sense of style to do anything beyond put up a tree. Looking around at the half-done decor, he feels grateful for your festive touch. He might tease you for your eagerness to celebrate, but he feels the homeliness that comes with the care that went into the decorations. Seeing you open the powder packets of hot chocolate mix, he feels even happier that you’re bringing some Christmas spirit into Jack’s life. 

Aaron gets up, joining the two of you in the kitchen. He listens to Jack’s retelling of your shopping trip as you all sip your drinks. You smile as you meet Aaron’s eyes, shining with love. Eventually, he tells Jack to do his homework, forcing him to take a break from decorating. 

Setting his mug in the dishwasher, he looks at the way you study the living room. He’s sure you’re thinking of where to set whatever other decorations you have. His hand rests on your shoulder from behind, and you turn to face him, a hand going to hold his jaw. 

“I love it,” he says, his eyes leaving yours to observe your work. 

“I’m glad,” you say, following his gaze. “I was worried you’d think it was too early to decorate.”

He pulls you into a kiss, hands running through your hair. “Not at all,” he replies, “next year you should start even earlier.” 

Your smile widens. The prospect of a “next” always makes you smile, no matter how many times Aaron says it. Your heart flutters just like it did on your first date 3 years ago when he asked where you wanted to go for your “next date”. 

“Someone still needs to put up the lights outside,” you say, hinting at a job for him to do. 

He pulls you closer for one last kiss before intertwining your fingers with his, making your way to the box with the lights inside. You take the box outside while he gets the ladder from the garage. He sets up the ladder, sifting through a small box of pushpins, and you sit on the ground untangling the lights. Slowly but surely, the knotted mess becomes a strand that you hand up to Aaron on the ladder. 

After about forty-five minutes, the house is fully covered with the lights. He plugs them in, lighting up the place with red and green. 

“It looks beautiful,” he says, standing back to admire the way they twinkle. He pulls you close, arm around your shoulder. You look up into his eyes, the brown shining with the reflections of the lights. He kisses you in, the warmth of his activity heating you up in the cold. “I see why you were so eager to decorate.” 

You rest your head on him, absorbing the moment. The two of you stay there for a few minutes, letting the spirit of the season envelop you, before going back inside to continue setting up. 

When Jack finishes his homework, he’s eager to suggest that you go get a tree as soon as possible. Aaron explains, to his dismay, that it would be a few weeks until you all took a trip out to the tree farm to ensure it didn’t wither before Christmas could come. For now, the pine scented candle would have to do. 

That night, when you lay your head next to Aaron, you see the lights illuminating his sleeping face. You smile, content in your love for your little family. You promise yourself that the decorations will go up even earlier next year, or next holiday for that matter. Snuggling up to his chest, you fall asleep to the thought of what gifts your boys would want to see under the tree.