#And now it will always be too late for me to say anything

[vibelladonna]

𝒸𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓂𝒶𝓈'𝓈 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁 𝜗𝜚 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒!

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── · 

This Christmas special was inspired by Valentine's Special [2nd Love Interest] by @fantasia-kitt (the creator!)

For this Christmas, I decided to write this fanfic while running errands with family for the holidays, so please bear with me if there are any mistakes. 

I was thinking about writing something for New Year’s Eve, like a party fic, but I feel like this Christmas special is enough for now while I take a short break and catch up on some upcoming projects (three of them with deep plotlines!).  Also, this ties in with Tkatb’s 1st anniversary, which was yesterday, the 23rd! I’m super proud of how far this little game has come.

And yes, I saw the update on the plans and progress. It looks like I might start working on some of my other favorite fandoms since the game will be on hold until the major update! I’ll still be keeping an eye on the progress as a Soulmate on Patreon, and you can always ask for a fanfic if you’d like! I’ll be responding to the messages in my ask box soon!

Anyway, happy reading! Wishing you all a wonderful holiday season!

The crisp, cool December air wrapped around you like a familiar embrace, the kind that reminded you of winter's quiet power. You stepped out of the lecture hall, your final class a fading echo behind you. 

The world, for a moment, felt as if it had been held in stasis: college was finally behind you, and relief surged through your veins like a slow, satisfying exhale.

You almost burst out laughing at the thought. Thank God that's fucking over. It totally drained you, and ate away at your insides until you felt there was nothing left but pure exhaustion. But then, as it all started to sink in, this weird emptiness crept up, like that quiet moment right before a storm hit.

The goodbyes, those last waves, and parting words were still stuck in your chest, kinda just out of reach, weighing on you like you were still tied to something that wasn’t done.  

Then your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked down at the screen and spotted Brittney’s name.

— Brittney: REMINDER! Gift exchange on Christmas Eve, my place at 7! Don’t be late, or you’ll owe me extra cookies.

You scoffed and let out a soft chuckle. Brittney had this incredible thing for making demands with a level of authority that was, somehow, oddly charming. As much as you rolled your eyes at her, you couldn’t deny that her quirks always brought a smile to your face. Still, as your gaze flicked back to the message, a groan bubbled up in your chest. You scrolled back through her earlier messages to confirm what you already knew. 

"Great," you muttered under your breath. Brittney had really gone all out this year, assigning everyone a specific person to shop for, and, of course, you ended up with Crowe. 

You exhaled, frustration bubbling up. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him—he was one of your closest friends—but trying to find a gift for someone who had everything felt like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. You could almost hear his voice in your head, teasing, cutting through whatever you picked out: “Really? This is what you think of me?” Of course, he’d never say anything like that—but what if he didn’t like it? What if he hated whatever you got him? The thought twisted uncomfortably in your chest.

You shook your head and continued walking toward the bus stop, the weight of the decision hanging over you. Simple wouldn’t cut it, but anything too over the top would make him throw a sarcastic comment at it. You had to find something that hit that sweet spot—the kind of gift that felt thoughtful without making him retreat into one of his jokes.

As if your thoughts weren’t already tangled enough, your phone buzzed again. You hesitated, almost instinctively glancing down. 

— Hyugo: Hey, what are you doing Christmas Eve? Sol and I are planning to check out the lights walk at the park. You should come!

A smile tugged at your lips. Typical Hyugo—direct, unfiltered, full of energy. His message was as breezy as his personality. And then there was Sol’s name, and that grin only deepened. The two of them together were a comedy show on legs—Sol’s quiet balance countering Hyugo’s endless whirlwind of ideas and antics. 

You stood still, fingers hovering over the screen. Christmas Eve. 

Oh no… For a moment, the thought of walking through the park with them, bathed in twinkling lights, was tempting. It would be the perfect kind of distraction, a night filled with laughter, just as you’d imagine. You pictured Hyugo pulling you and Sol into whatever wild antics he’d planned, Sol trying (and failing) to keep everything in check with his usual, resigned eye rolls.

But then, as your thumb hovered over the screen, your thoughts drifted back to Crowe. 

Last week, in the group chat, Crowe had mentioned something cryptic about "making big plans" for the holiday. He’d shrugged it off when Brittney pressed for details, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he had something in mind that involved the whole group. You felt the weight of his words in your mind. Would it be weird to bail on him now? 

You sighed, tucking your phone into your pocket as the bus stop loomed closer. 

"Why is it never simple with these friend groups?" you muttered under your breath.

Now, you had two conflicting decisions on your hands: find the perfect gift for Crowe, and decide whether you were spending Christmas Eve with him and his friends or tagging along with Hyugo and Sol on their sparkling adventure.

Your mind raced with the uncertainty, and the thought of making the "right" choice felt more elusive than ever.

The mall was buzzing with the kind of chaotic energy only the holiday season could bring—families weaving in and out of stores, the sound of Christmas music drifting from every corner, and glittering displays of tinsel and fairy lights winking at you from every window.

You hadn’t stepped foot in a mall in ages—mostly sticking to the convenience of online shopping and the hunts of thrift stores—but here you were, begrudgingly dragging Brittney along in your quest for the perfect gift for Crowe. 

“I still don’t get why you’re this stressed about it,” Brittney said, effortlessly balancing a caramel macchiato in one hand while gesturing with the other as she walked beside you. “It’s Jericho. He’ll probably be smiling no matter what you give him. Honestly, wrap up a rock, and he’ll love it anyway.”

You let out a long, drawn-out groan, clutching your coat tighter as you passed yet another store that screamed not Crowe enough. “That’s exactly why it’s stressful! If I give him something random, he’ll think I didn’t put any thought into it. And if it’s too thoughtful—well, you know how he gets.”

Brittney raised an eyebrow, her heels clicking against the tile floor like the beat of a very judgmental drum. “You’re overthinking it, as usual. But fine, we’ll find him something perfect.” She paused dramatically, then grinned like the cat who’d just caught the canary. “Right after we fix this.”

She motioned toward you like you were a mannequin in need of serious intervention. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked, narrowing your eyes, already dreading whatever plan she was about to hatch.

“Oh, come on,” she said, practically yanking your arm as she steered you toward a clothing store. “You cannot show up to my place tomorrow night wearing your same old flare jeans-and-sweater combo in dull colors. It’s festive! It’s Christmas! You need to bring your A-game.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a small get-together,” you protested, resisting her tug.

“It is. Small but fabulous. Which is why I, as your friend, am going to make sure you don’t look like you just rolled out of bed.” She pulled a sequined dress from a nearby rack with the kind of flourish reserved for Broadway stars. “What do we think? Too much?”

You stared at the dress in horror. It was so sparkly it could probably be seen from space. You shot her a flat look. “If I wear that, Crowe will definitely never let me live it down.”

“Fine, fine,” Brittney said, laughing and tossing the dress back on the rack with the grace of a fashionista throwing a tantrum. “But you’ve got to admit, you’d turn heads.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as she tossed another, more reasonable outfit your way.

After what felt like an eternity—and after Brittney vetoed every “boring” outfit you tried to pick—finally, you emerged from the dressing room with a pretty outfit, you both agreed with. 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Brittney said, clapping her hands in approval. “Chic, confident, and just a little bit mysterious. You’re welcome.”

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, tilting your head. “I guess it’s not bad.”

“Not bad?” she repeated, feigning offense. “Please, you look amazing. Crowe is going to have his jaw on the floor.”

You shot her a look, trying to hide the heat creeping up your neck. “Why are you bringing him into this?”

Brittney smirked knowingly. “Oh, please. Like you don’t know.” 

You rolled your eyes, but her grin was infectious, and you couldn’t suppress the smallest of smiles.

After leaving the clothing store—with Brittney carrying your new outfit like it was her triumph—you wandered into a cozy little shop filled with knick-knacks and handcrafted items. It had that eclectic, artsy vibe that immediately made you think of Crowe.  

Brittney was busy examining a shelf of scented candles when she asked casually, “So, do you ever think about dating?” You froze, nearly dropping the ceramic figurine you were holding. “Excuse me? Where did that come from?”  

“I mean, it’s the holidays,” she said, shrugging as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Romance is in the air. And you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with a certain pair of guys.”  

Your stomach flipped. “Brittney...”  

“Come on,” she pressed, leaning against the shelf with a teasing grin. “It’s Jericho, isn’t it? Or wait—maybe that dude with the green streaks in his hair?” She paused, thinking, “What’s his name again…?” She asked. You rolled your eyes, “Sol.” 

“Right, the quiet one that likes to draw…” She mentioned, “So? The prince or the artist?”  

You hesitated, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Sol, with his warm, easy-going nature, always made you feel like you could be yourself. But Crowe... Crowe had a way of drawing you in, his sharp wit and creativity sparking something you couldn’t quite name.  

“I... I don’t know,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Brittney’s expression softened, her teasing giving way to genuine curiosity. “Hey, no pressure. I just think... whoever you pick, they’re lucky to have you.”  

As you walked through the mall, still thinking about her words, you stumbled upon something that made you stop in your tracks.  

It was a gorgeous, handcrafted music box, intricately carved with a winter scene. You’d seen it before on display, months ago, and fallen in love with it. But the price tag had always kept it just out of reach. You’d told yourself it wasn’t practical—your money had to go toward rent, groceries, and textbooks, not something so frivolous.  

Yet here it was, glimmering in the soft light as if waiting for you.  

“What’s that?” Brittney asked, peeking over your shoulder.  

You swallowed hard. “It’s... something I’ve wanted for a while. But it’s too expensive.”  

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at you, then back at the music box. “Maybe it’s time to treat yourself for once. It’s Christmas, after all.”  

You shook your head, stepping away reluctantly. “I can’t. I need to stick to my budget.”  

Brittney frowned but didn’t push. Instead, she linked her arm with yours and said, “All right, let’s go. We’ve still got to find gifts.”  

By the time you left the mall, you were exhausted but triumphant. You’d found the perfect gifts—Brittney had, of course, insisted on adding a bow to each package.  

With the gifts secured, you headed home, your thoughts kept drifting back to the music box—and to the question, you couldn’t quite answer. Crowe or Sol?  

Standing in front of your mirror, you smoothed the soft fabric of the outfit Brittney had picked out for you—a cozy yet stylish off-shoulder sweater black sweater dress paired with maroon tights, and a matching bow that sits on your nightstand.

It fit perfectly, hitting all the curves, and you had to admit, Brittney had an annoyingly good eye. When she handed you the bag earlier, she had waved away your protests with a grin.  

“Think of it as a gift,” she’d said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I had no clue what to get you anyway, so this counts. You’re welcome.”  

You laughed at the memory as you reached for the maroon bow. It was a small, thoughtful gesture from her, but it carried more weight than she probably realized. Brittney always had a way of showing her care through actions, even if she hid it behind sarcasm.  

Your gaze shifted to your phone on the dresser, the screen still lit up with Hyugo’s text. You tapped your nails on the dresser, reading the message again and again. The idea of strolling under the glowing canopy of Christmas lights was tempting. Hyugo’s steady, dependable presence had always been a source of comfort, and Sol...  

Your chest tightened slightly at the thought of Sol. He wasn’t the loudest or the most expressive, but he had a quiet way of showing he cared. Whether it was walking on the side of the road closest to traffic or remembering your favorite snacks when you studied late, Sol went out of his way to protect you in the subtlest ways.  

But then there was Crowe.  

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, sighing softly as you adjusted the collar of your sweater dress. Crowe was the opposite of Sol in many ways—charismatic, quick-witted, and always so present. He had a way of being there when you needed him most, whether it was cracking a joke to pull you out of a bad mood or reminding you to take care of yourself when you pushed too hard. Crowe didn’t just care about you; he saw you.  

Your brush stilled in your hand as your thoughts tangled. Sol, with his quiet strength and unspoken devotion, versus Crowe, whose vibrant energy and unwavering support had become a constant in your life. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt torn like this, but tonight, with everything hanging in the air, the question loomed larger than ever.  

You placed the brush down and reached for your phone. Your thumb hovered over the screen, Hyugo’s text still unanswered.  

The truth was, both options held their kind of magic. You could picture yourself with Sol and Hyugo, laughing as Sol attempted to grab a runaway balloon from a vendor at the Christmas lights. But you could also imagine spending the night with Crowe and the rest of the group, his familiar presence anchoring you as the chaos of the party swirled around you, perhaps playing games and catching up. 

Would Crowe be disappointed if you didn’t go?  

You bit your lip, closing your eyes for a moment as you let out a long breath. There wasn’t a perfect answer, and no amount of overthinking would make the choice any easier. Finally, you set the phone down with a soft thud and looked back at your reflection.  

“Just go with your gut,” you murmured to yourself.  

As you adjusted your clothes in the minor one last time, you headed to your living room. You put on your leather boots, then grabbed your coat, and you made your way toward the door. No matter what decision you made tonight, you knew one thing for certain: the holidays weren’t about the lights, the gifts, or even the plans—they were about the people who mattered most to you.  

And whether that person was Crowe or Sol... maybe the night would help you figure that out.  

If you picked Crowe!

You stood in front of your front door, staring at your phone screen as your thumb hovered over the keyboard. Hyugo’s invitation sat open on your messaging app, the words staring back at you like a challenge.  

Spending Christmas Eve with him and Sol sounded wonderful. The idea of walking under glowing lights, sharing laughter and stories, and basking in the quiet warmth of their presence was so tempting. You could already picture Sol’s quiet, steady energy and Hyugo’s easygoing humor, balancing each other out like always.  

But then there was Brittney’s party. She had been planning it for weeks, texting in all caps about the details and how “NO ONE was allowed to skip out unless they wanted to face my WRATH.” And Crowe… well, Crowe had been unusually involved in the group chat about the exchange. You could sense his subtle excitement, even though he’d never admit it outright.  

Your heartfelt caught between two equally important choices. One evening with Hyugo and Sol would mean stepping away from the rest of your friends, missing out on the little traditions that had brought you all closer. And yet, declining Hyugo’s invitation felt like a lost chance to make a special memory with him and Sol.  

Biting your lip, you finally typed out a reply, your fingers moving hesitantly:  

— You: I’d love to, but my friends already planned something. Maybe next time?  

You stared at the message for another moment before pressing send, a pang of guilt twisting in your chest.  

It wasn’t long before your phone buzzed with Hyugo’s response:  

— Hyugo: Got it. Have fun!  

You smiled softly at the screen, some of the tension in your chest easing. Hyugo was always so understanding—steady and reliable, no matter the situation. But before you could set your phone down, it buzzed again.  

The name flashing on the screen made your stomach flip.  

Sol.  

You hesitated for a beat before answering. “Hey,” you said, keeping your tone light despite the sudden tightness in your throat.  

“Hey,” he replied, his voice calm but noticeably quieter than usual. “I just wanted to check... So, you’re not coming tonight?”  

Your chest tightened further at the faint thread of disappointment in his tone. “I’m really sorry, Sol,” you said, sighing softly. “I already have plans with others friends. I don’t want to bail on them.”  

There was a pause, long enough for your heart to sink. When Sol spoke again, his words were careful, and understanding, but there was no hiding the sadness that laced his tone. “It’s okay. I get it. Maybe we can hang out another time.”  

The lump in your throat grew heavier. “We definitely will,” you promised quickly, wishing you could say something to lighten the weight you could feel in his words.  

In the background, you heard Hyugo’s voice. “Is that them? Gimme the phone.”  

There was a rustling sound before Hyugo’s familiar warmth came through the line. “Hey, don’t worry about it,” he said with an easy chuckle. “We’ll survive without you. But next time, no excuses, okay?”  

The lightheartedness in his tone made your shoulders relax slightly. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, relieved by his usual charm. “Thanks, Hyugo. Have fun tonight, okay?”  

“You too!” he teased before adding, “And try not to let your friends drag you into too much chaos. See you soon.”  

The line clicked, leaving you standing in the quiet entryway of your apartment. You lowered the phone slowly, staring at it for a moment longer as an ache settled in your chest. Sol’s voice lingered in your mind, soft and careful, and you couldn’t help but wish things could have been different.  

But tonight, you reminded yourself, was about being with the others, about keeping the traditions you’d built with them alive. With a deep breath, you slipped your phone into your pocket and grabbed your coat, stepping into the night air with a mixture of anticipation and bittersweet longing swirling in your heart.  

The evening of the party arrived, and as you approached Brittney’s house, the warmth and energy of the gathering spilled out onto the deck porch. Golden light glowed from the windows, the cheerful hum of music and laughter drifting into the chilly December air. You paused for a moment at the door, pulling your coat tighter around yourself as you gathered your thoughts.  

With a steadying breath, you knocked. A moment later, the door swung open, and there was Brittney, her face lighting up with her signature, effervescent grin.  

“Finally! I thought you’d never get here,” she said, already reaching to help you with your coat.  

“Sorry, I was—”  

“Fashionably late,” she interrupted, her eyes scanning your outfit. A satisfied hum escaped her lips as she appraised you. “Now this is what I’m talking about. You’re stunning.”  

You laughed softly, slipping out of your coat to reveal the gorgeous outfit Brittney had insisted on picking for you—a soft black off the shoulder dressed, paired with maroon tights with an matching bow that made you feel both elegant and confident. She handed you a pair of house shoes, the ones you knew she kept around for occasions like this.  

“I feel like I’m overdressed,” you said lightly, but Brittney shook her head, waving a dismissive hand.  

“Overdressed? Please. It’s Christmas. You’re perfect.”  

Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the cheerful din behind her.  

“Hey, you made it.”  

Your gaze shifted, and there stood Crowe. For a moment, you simply stared, taking him in. He wore an azure button-up shirt, paired with a black vest that complemented his rich brown skin, the deep hue drawing out the warm tones of his deep blue eyes. A sapphire brooch glinted at the center of a meticulously tied black bow around his collar, and his long hair was pulled into a low ponytail, tied back with a matching azure ribbon.  

In his hands, he held a small bouquet of blue irises.  

Your breath caught, and as he stepped closer, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over his outfit . “Wow,” you murmured. “You look... princely.”  

Crowe raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk faltering as a flicker of warmth crossed his expression. “And you look...” He paused, his gaze lingering on you before softening. “Really beautiful.”  

“Only tonight?” you teased, raising an eyebrow and tilting your head.  

His eyes widened, and he stumbled over his words, flustered in a way you didn’t see often. “No, I mean—you look beautiful every day, but tonight you just—” He stopped, rubbing the back of his neck as a sheepish laugh escaped him.  

You both burst into laughter, the tension easing in an instant. Brittney rolled her eyes dramatically, patting Crowe’s shoulder as she passed. “Well, my work here is done,” she said, her tone dripping with mock exasperation. “Don’t mess this up, princeling.”  

As Brittney disappeared back to the living room, leaving you and Crowe in the hallway. He turned his attention back to you, holding out the bouquet. “These are for you,” he said simply.  

You took the flowers carefully, the soft petals brushing your fingertips. Your eyes widened slightly as you studied the blooms. “Blue irises,” you said, your voice thoughtful. “They’re beautiful.”  

He tilted his head, his smirk returning. “I thought you’d like them. They’re supposed to mean hope and trust—or something like that.”  

“And wisdom,” you added, looking up at him with a smile. “The iris has been associated with wisdom and truth because of the Greek goddess Iris, who was a messenger for Zeus and Hera. And nobility, too—it’s been connected to royalty throughout history.”  

Crowe’s brow lifted, clearly impressed. “Well, aren’t you just a walking encyclopedia?”  

You grinned. “Maybe. But you picked well. Thank you.”  

The warmth in his gaze deepened, and for a moment, it felt like the noise of the party faded away.  

“You’re welcome,” he said softly.  

Soon the room was buzzing with anticipation as the gift exchange began. Brittney, playing hostess to perfection, had everyone seated in a loose circle, with the mountain of brightly wrapped presents taking center stage. You were perched on the edge of a couch, trying to calm the slight flutter in your chest as the turn order worked its way closer to Crowe.  

When his name was finally called, he shot to his feet with his usual flair, bowing dramatically as the room cheered. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, waving his hand like a performer accepting applause. “But this isn’t about me—it’s about you all witnessing the unveiling of my superior gift-giving skills.”  

Brittney rolled her eyes. “Just get on with it, princeling.”  

Crowe smirked at her before his gaze flicked to you. A mischievous glint lit his deep blue eyes as he strode toward you, a carefully curated basket in his hands. He stopped in front of you, his grin softening into something a little more sincere.  

“This one’s for you,” he said, holding the basket out with a slight flourish.  

You blinked, surprised as you took the basket from him. “For me?”  

He tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “Well, yeah. You’re hard to shop for, so don’t judge me too harshly, okay?”  

You set the basket on your lap and began pulling back the tissue paper, and your eyes widened as you took in the contents. Inside were all your favorite things—snacks you couldn’t resist, small trinkets in your favorite color, and even a notebook that perfectly matched your aesthetic.  

“Crowe...” you murmured, already feeling a warmth spreading in your chest. But as you moved the tissue paper aside further, your gaze landed on something at the center that made your breath hitch—a beautifully crafted music box.  

“You...” You looked up at him, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Crowe shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck in a rare display of nervousness. “I wasn’t sure what to get you,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “You’re always saying you have everything you need, and every time I offer to get you something, you turn me down like I’m trying to buy your soul or something.”  

A ripple of laughter spread through the room, and you couldn’t help but smile. “So, I figured I’d just... cover all my bases. You know, a little bit of everything. And, uh... I remembered how much you like little tunes and stuff, so...” He motioned awkwardly to the music box, looking anywhere but directly at you.  

Your chest tightened as a wave of emotion swept over you. The thoughtfulness behind the gift—the way he’d paid attention to all the little details about you—left you speechless. Without thinking, you stood up, leaned toward him, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.  

“Thank you, Crowe,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.  

For a moment, Crowe froze, his eyes wide as the room erupted into a chorus of whistles and teasing laughter. His hand flew to his cheek, and the tips of his ears turned a faint shade of red.  

“Well, well, well,” Brittney said loudly, holding up her phone and snapping a picture. “Looks like Crowe’s the real winner tonight.”  

Crowe groaned, glaring playfully at her. “Don’t you have a party to host or something?”  

Brittney smirked. “This is hosting. Carry on, lovebirds.”  

The teasing didn’t stop there. Someone shouted, “How about a speech, Crowe?!” and someone else chimed in with, “Yeah, tell us how it feels to win Christmas!”  

Crowe sighed dramatically, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed how much he appreciated the attention. “It feels like... a conspiracy,” he quipped, shooting you a quick, fond glance.  

As the laughter died down and the gift exchange continued, you found yourself clutching the basket tightly. You caught Crowe looking at you a few times, and each time, he offered a soft, almost shy smile.  

As the night wore on, the room buzzed with laughter and excitement. You sat quietly, watching the group banter back and forth, their camaraderie filling the space with a warmth that rivaled the glow of the twinkling fairy lights strung across the walls. Brittney flitted from group to group, her laughter ringing out as she teased someone about their gift-wrapping skills. Crowe’s voice cut through the chatter every so often, his witty remarks earning groans and snickers alike.  

You smiled at their antics, but the warmth in your chest was tinged with a bittersweet ache. The ease with which they all interacted—the history they shared—sometimes made you feel like an outsider, no matter how much they cared for you. You still felt new. You blinked quickly, willing away the sting in your eyes, but the knot in your throat tightened, looking down at your hands.

A quiet voice broke through your thoughts.  

“Hey.”  

You looked up to find Crowe standing beside you, his brow furrowed, concern softening his usually playful expression. He crouched slightly to meet your gaze, his hand brushing lightly against your arm.  

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low so only you could hear.  

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile as you wiped at your eyes. “Yeah,” you said, though your voice wavered. “I just need some fresh air.”  

He didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he held out a hand, helping you up. “Come on,” he said softly, guiding you toward the door.  

Outside, the crisp night air greeted you, sharp and refreshing against your skin. The muffled sounds of music and laughter from inside felt distant now, replaced by the soft rustling of trees and the faint twinkle of stars overhead.  

You leaned against the railing of the porch, closing your eyes for a moment as you took a deep breath. When you opened them again, Crowe was watching you, his expression unreadable.  

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. Crowe noticed immediately, his brow knitting in concern. Without hesitation, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue handkerchief.  

He stepped closer, his movements gentle as he raised the handkerchief to your cheek, wiping the tear away. His touch was warm and deliberate, his fingertips barely grazing your skin.  

The tenderness of the gesture caught you off guard, and when he realized how close he was, his hand faltered. “Sorry, I—”  

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as a small, shaky breath escaped you. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.  

His hand lingered for a moment longer before he pulled back, his lips curving into a small, lopsided smile. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly.  

The two of you stood there in comfortable silence for a while, the cool night air brushing against your faces. Eventually, Crowe leaned against the railing beside you, his arm brushing yours as he tilted his head back to look at the sky.  

“Do you know much about constellations?” he asked, his tone lighter now.  

You glanced at him, grateful for the change in mood. “A little. Why?”  

He pointed upward, his hand tracing the shape of a cluster of stars. “That one right there—that’s Cassiopeia. The queen who bragged about how beautiful she was and got herself in trouble with the gods.”  

You laughed softly. “Sounds like someone I know.”  

Crowe gasped in mock offense, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’ll have you know, I am humble to a fault.”  

“Sure, princeling,” you teased, nudging him gently with your shoulder.  

He grinned, his gaze drifting back to the stars. “Anyway, you’re more like Andromeda. You know, the princess who was chained to a rock but ended up becoming a constellation. Quiet strength, endless beauty... and the kind of person you can’t help but notice.”  

Your breath hitched slightly at his words, and when you turned to look at him, his eyes were already on you, warm and sincere.  

“I...” You hesitated, your emotions threatening to spill over again. But instead of speaking, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a small box.  

“I almost forgot,” you said, your voice steadying. “This is for you.”  

Crowe blinked, surprised, as he took the box from your hands. When he opened it, his expression softened even further. Inside were two matching necklaces, one in gold and one in silver, with interlocking stars at the center.  

“They fit together,” you explained, taking the gold one and clipping it around his neck. “Yours is gold and mine’s silver. I thought...” You hesitated again, suddenly shy. “I thought it’d be a nice reminder.”  

Crowe’s fingers brushed the charm, his gaze flicking between the necklace and you. “It’s perfect,” he said, his voice low. “Thank you.”  

The two of you stood close, the distance between you barely enough to breathe, yet it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. Your hands brushed as you admired the matching necklaces, an unspoken connection flickering between the two of you. Crowe’s lips parted, as if he was about to say something, but then he suddenly laughed, his eyes catching something in the distance.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, your head tilting curiously, the soft flicker of the holiday lights casting a warm glow on your face.

He pointed upward, his eyes mischievous. “You didn’t notice?”

Following his gaze, your eyes landed on a sprig of mistletoe hanging directly above you, its green leaves almost glowing under the lights. The realization hit you, and heat surged to your cheeks, a soft flush spreading across your skin. You looked back at him, your heart suddenly racing, and found him raising his hands in mock surrender, his lips curling into that knowing smile of his.

“You don’t have to,” he said, his tone playful but edged with something deeper, like he was daring you to take the plunge. “It’s just a belief, you know—.”

But you didn’t let him finish. Without a second thought, you stepped closer, closing the gap between you until you were mere inches apart. Your fingers gently cupped his cheek, and as his breath hitched, you pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was electric. Crowe froze for the briefest of seconds, as if surprised by your sudden boldness, but then he melted into it, his hands settling onto your waist, his touch firm yet careful. The world around you seemed to vanish, the only thing that existed was the sensation of his lips against yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. It was soft, tender, but there was an intensity to it—like a fire that had been smoldering, just waiting for the right moment to ignite.

His lips moved against yours, slow at first, savoring the closeness. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through the way his chest pressed gently against yours. You pulled him in closer, your hands tangling in the fabric of his jacket, as though afraid that if you let go, the moment would slip away. His body was pressed against yours now, his chest flush against yours, his strong arms securing you in place, as if to make sure you didn’t fall.

When you finally pulled back, the air between you seemed charged, crackling with unspoken words. His eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them, deeply in love and warm with something that made your heart race. He smiled, a slow, genuine curve of his lips, his voice low and tender when he finally spoke.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” he whispered, his words almost lost in the space between your lips. His hand remained at the small of your back, holding you close, his fingers warm against your skin.

Before you could even process the weight of his words, a loud voice broke through the fragile moment.

“Got it!” Brittney crowed from the window, waving her phone triumphantly as if she had just captured a moment of great importance.

You groaned, your face immediately hiding in your hands, embarrassed, but Crowe just laughed, the sound warm and carefree, his arm effortlessly wrapping around your shoulders.

“Let them watch,” he said with a grin, pulling you closer, his breath tickling your ear. “I don’t care.”

And for the first time that night, as his arm pulled you tighter against him, you didn’t care either.

If you picked Sol!

You stood motionless, phone resting in your hand, as you stared at the glowing screen.  

— You: I’d love to come. When should I meet you?  

Hyugo’s response came almost immediately.  

— Hyugo: 6:30 at the park entrance. Can’t wait!  

A small smile tugged at your lips, the kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You knew tonight would be special; Hyugo and Sol had a way of making even the simplest outings unforgettable. But as your gaze drifted to Crowe’s name in your contacts, the smile faded.  

Crowe.

He deserved to know you wouldn’t be there. You owed him that much.  

Your thumb hovered over the call button, hesitating as a pang of guilt settled in your chest. This wasn’t an easy decision, but you couldn’t be everywhere at once. Taking a steadying breath, you pressed the button and lifted the phone to your ear.  

The line rang twice before Crowe answered, his familiar voice as warm and teasing as ever. “Hey, what’s up? Please don’t tell me you’re chickening out on me for tonight.”  

A soft laugh escaped you, but the guilt in your tone was unmistakable. “Not exactly chickening out, but... I can’t make it. I have other plans.”  

The silence that followed stretched long enough to make your chest tighten. You checked the screen to make sure the call hadn’t dropped, but then Crowe’s voice returned, quieter now.  

“Oh. I see. Well, that’s okay. I mean, we’ll miss you, but it’s not Christmas without options, right?”  

His attempt at lightness only deepened the ache in your heart. You could hear the subtle disappointment beneath his words, even if he was trying to hide it.  

“I’m sorry, Crowe,” you said softly. “I really hope you have a great time. Merry Christmas.”  

He chuckled lightly, though the usual energy in his laugh wasn’t there. “Yeah, you too. Take care, okay?”  

When the call ended, you stared at the blank screen for a moment, the weight of your choice pressing on you. Crowe’s voice lingered in your mind, and for a fleeting second, you almost reconsidered. But tonight was about something different—something you couldn’t quite name yet.  

Later that evening, you arrived at the park entrance, the crisp night air nipping at your cheeks as the scent of pine and roasted chestnuts filled the air. Strings of twinkling lights turned the trees into glowing sculptures, and the cheerful hum of holiday music mingled with the sound of children laughing and families chatting.  

Your breath puffed in the cold air as you scanned the crowd. It didn’t take long to spot Hyugo leaning against a lamppost, his tall frame relaxed and his hands tucked casually into his coat pockets. He gave you a small wave, but it wasn’t Hyugo who drew your attention.  

A few steps away stood Sol.  

He was dressed impeccably, his white button-up shirt and green suit jacket tailored perfectly to his lean frame. The deep green of the jacket brought out the striking shade of his eyes, and his neatly styled ponytail only emphasized the sharp lines of his face. His bangs framed his expression, highlighting the glint of the piercings lining his ears.  

But it was the bouquet in his hands that truly caught your attention. A cluster of green roses, delicate and vibrant against the cold winter backdrop.  

Your heart skipped a beat as you walked toward him, your eyes widening. “Green roses,” you said softly, taking the bouquet from his hands with care. “They’re about life and growth. Hope, too.”  

Sol blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise before his expression softened. A faint blush crept up his neck as he scratched the back of his head. “Yeah... I thought you’d like them.”  

You couldn’t help yourself. Without thinking, you leaned forward and hugged him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.  

Sol froze, his body going stiff as his blush deepened to an almost crimson hue. He stammered incoherently for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck as if to ground himself.  

“Well, this is already adorable,” Hyugo said, his calm voice laced with amusement as he walked up. “Thanks for officially making me the third wheel tonight.”  

You laughed, clutching the roses to your chest as you turned to Hyugo. “Don’t be so dramatic. Here, I have something for you.”  

Reaching into the small gift bag in your hand, you pulled out a silver katana necklace. Hyugo’s brows lifted as he took it, his fingers brushing the delicate chain.  

“Wow,” he said, holding it up to catch the light. “This is... really nice. Thanks!”  

“Only the best for you,” you teased, grinning as he slipped it on. The chain glinted under the lights, and he adjusted it with a satisfied nod.  

“Looks good on me, doesn’t it?” he said, striking a mock-serious pose.  

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “It does. But let’s not let it go to your head, okay?”  

As the three of you began walking into the park, the weight of the earlier phone call began to ease. The twinkling lights, the crisp air, and the warmth of your friends’ presence all blended into a moment you wouldn’t forget.  

The world around you transformed into a glowing wonderland of twinkling lights. Strings of bulbs wound through the trees like cascading stars, and lanterns in festive shapes lined the paths. The air was filled with the sounds of cheerful laughter, holiday music, and the occasional jingling bell from a passing sleigh ride.  

Hyugo walked ahead, his easy stride and relaxed demeanor making him seem like he belonged in this magical setting. Occasionally, he pointed out displays, his commentary a mix of genuine appreciation and sarcastic humor.  

“See that?” he said, gesturing to a particularly gaudy reindeer display. “That’s exactly what my family’s yard looks like. Overachieving neighbors are a real thing.”  

You laughed, falling into step with Sol, who had remained quieter than usual. He walked beside you, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets now that the bouquet was safely cradled in your arms. His reddish-orange eyes flitted between the lights and you, his expression thoughtful.  

“You okay back there, Sol?” Hyugo called over his shoulder, smirking. “You’re way too quiet. I’m starting to think the roses did all the talking for you.”  

Sol’s cheeks flushed again, but he managed a small smile. “I’m fine. Just... enjoying the view.” Hyugo snorted. “Yeah, sure you are.”  

You glanced up at Sol, catching the way his gaze lingered on you before darting away. Your heart skipped slightly, and you decided to give him a reprieve from Hyugo’s teasing. “The lights are beautiful,” you said softly, gesturing toward the canopy of stars above the path.  

Sol nodded, his voice equally quiet. “Yeah, they are.”  

The three of you continued along the winding path, pausing occasionally to take in the more elaborate displays—a massive tree covered in golden lights, an archway adorned with glittering ornaments, and a whimsical snowman family that had children running circles around it.  

Hyugo excused himself after spotting a nearby food stall. “I’m getting hot cocoa. Anyone want some?”  

You shook your head, and Sol muttered a soft, “No, thanks.”  

“Suit yourselves. I’ll be back in a bit,” Hyugo said with a casual wave, leaving you and Sol alone under the shimmering lights.  

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged with something unspoken. Sol glanced at you, his hands fidgeting slightly in his pockets.  

“You look really nice tonight,” he said suddenly, his voice shy but earnest.  

You turned to him, surprised. “Thank you. You do, too.”  

He smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he wasn’t sure how far to let it go. “I mean it,” he added, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. “You always look nice, but tonight... I don’t know. You’re so pretty.”  

Your breath caught at the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. “Thank you,” you said again, your voice softer this time.  

The lights overhead cast a soft glow on both of you, the world feeling smaller and quieter. Your thoughts began to wander, and a faint ache tugged at your chest.  

You’d spent so many Christmases surrounded by family, their familiar warmth and chaos filling every corner of your childhood home. This year was different. You’d made a life for yourself in the city and built relationships and traditions with your friends, but the distance from your family suddenly felt heavier than ever.  

Sol noticed the shift in your expression immediately. His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly, stepping closer. “Hey,” he said gently. “You okay?”  

You blinked quickly, realizing tears had started to well in your eyes. “Yeah,” you said, wiping at them with a quick smile. “I’m fine. Just... thinking about home.”  

His concern deepened, and for a moment, he hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he should say anything. Finally, he reached out, resting a hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay to miss them,” he said softly. “You don’t have to hide it.”  

The warmth in his voice unraveled something inside you, and you nodded, swallowing hard. “Thank you, Sol,” you murmured.  

A small smile returned to his face, and he pulled his hand back, letting the moment settle. After a few moments, you reached into your bag, a spark of excitement cutting through the heaviness in your chest. “Actually, I have something for you,” you said, pulling out a small box.  

Sol blinked in surprise, watching as you handed it to him. “What’s this?”  

“Open it,” you said with a grin.  

He carefully lifted the lid to reveal a miniature horse keychain, painted green and black to match his colors. Sol’s eyes widened, and a small, genuine smile spread across his face.  

“For me?” he asked, his voice almost disbelieving.  

You nodded. “And this one’s for me,” you added, pulling out a matching keychain—a small cat painted in your favorite colors. “Now we’ve got matching keychains. To think of each other, you know.”  

Sol stared at the tiny horse in his hands, his fingers brushing the smooth surface. “I love it,” he said finally, his voice quiet but full of emotion. “Thank you.”  

Before you could respond, Sol reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a neatly wrapped box. “I, uh... have something for you too,” he said, handing it over.  

You unwrapped it carefully, and your breath caught as the lid lifted to reveal the music box you’d been dreaming about for months.  

Tears sprang to your eyes again, but this time they were filled with pure joy. You couldn’t quite believe what you were seeing. “Sol… how did you…?”

He stood there, his hands twitching nervously at his sides, the usual confidence he carried nowhere to be found. He took a tentative step closer, and the vulnerability in his eyes made your heart ache. “I remembered you talking about it once,” he said, his voice faltering, tinged with uncertainty. “I just thought you should have it.”

His words, the meaning behind them, hit you all at once. He was so thoughtful, so careful. But it was his panicked expression that really caught you off guard. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure whether to comfort you or retreat, his reddish orange eyes wide with worry, silently questioning if he had done too much. “I—was this too much? I just thought you’d—”

You couldn’t bear to see him like that, unsure and vulnerable, so you stepped forward, closing the distance between you. Slowly, you rose up onto your toes, your hands wrapping around his broad shoulders, grounding yourself in his presence.

Before he could finish his thought, you pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, letting your emotions guide you. His breath hitched, and for a long moment, everything seemed to pause. The twinkling lights that decorated the trees, the distant laughter of other parkgoers, even the crisp winter air—all of it faded away, leaving only the heat of his skin and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat that somehow synced with yours.

Sol froze at first, his lips still under yours, as if his mind hadn’t caught up with what was happening. But slowly, you felt him relax into the kiss. His hands, unsure at first, settled lightly on your arms, and then, as if he was grounding himself in the moment, they tightened just slightly, pulling you in closer.

His touch was little rough, but you could feel the depth of his feelings in the way his fingers brushed against your skin—like he was afraid to let go, as if the moment might slip away if he did.

When you finally pulled back, the air around you felt charged, alive with the emotion you both had been holding back. Sol stood there, his wide eyes locked on you, his cheeks flushed so deeply that even the tips of his ears had turned a deep shade of red. His chest rose and fell quickly, like he couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

“I… uh…” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper, as if words had momentarily escaped him.

A soft laugh escaped you, breaking the intensity of the moment. You wiped away the lingering tears from your cheeks, trying to steady yourself. “Thank you, Sol,” you said, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions swirling in your chest. “For everything. For the music box, for being here… for being you.”

Sol’s lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to respond, but instead, all he managed was a shy, lopsided smile. The kind that made your heart flutter, as if his very soul was laid bare in that simple gesture.

You smiled back, your cheeks still flushed with warmth despite the winter chill, and there was something about the way his gaze lingered on you that made everything feel right, in a way you never expected.

“And for the record,” you added softly, your tone more serious now, “I care about you. So much.”

Sol’s smile deepened, and his eyes seemed to glow with a mixture of disbelief and quiet happiness. His voice, when it came, was so soft, so full of emotion, it felt like a secret meant just for you. “I’m just glad you’re here,” he murmured, his hand gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch warm and tender. “You’re the best muse I’ll ever have.”

His words hung in the air between you, and it felt like time itself had slowed down, each second stretching into eternity as you stood there, lost in the quiet connection you shared. The world, the winter, the chaos of everything else—it all melted away in that one moment, leaving only the feeling of his hands, his heart, and the soft glow of your shared affection.

Before either of you could say more, Hyugo’s suddenly voice cut through the tender moment, laced with amusement.  

“Well, I feel like I should leave you two lovebirds alone, but... I also don’t want to walk home alone, so…”  

The interruption made you laugh, the sound light and genuine as the heaviness in your chest fully lifted. Sol’s blush only deepened, and he looked down, scratching the back of his neck in his usual awkward fashion.  

Your hand found his instinctively, your fingers lacing together as you turned to face Hyugo. “You’re hopeless,” you called teasingly.  

“Yeah, yeah,” Hyugo said with a mock sigh. “Glad you’ve finally figured that out.”  

As the three of you continued along the path, Sol’s grip on your hand remained firm, his thumb brushing lightly against yours as though to reassure himself this wasn’t a dream. The lights above reflected in his eyes, making them shine like rubies against the backdrop of the winter evening.  

After a few moments of quiet, Sol glanced at you, his gaze steady but laced with a familiar shyness. “Thanks for being here,” he said, his voice low but full of meaning.  

You looked up at him, warmth blooming in your chest. “Of course. Where else would I be?”  

He hesitated for just a second, and then, with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, he added, “…And I’m glad I didn’t have to shed any blood to win you over.”  

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him in mock disbelief before bursting into laughter. “What a charmer,” you said, shaking your head.  

Sol chuckled softly, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly. “What can I say? …I aim to impress you alone.”  

The teasing gave way to a comfortable silence as the two of you continued walking, your hands still intertwined. The world around you felt warmer, and brighter, like the holiday lights above had found a way to settle into your chest and glow from the inside out.  

For the first time that night, you felt completely at peace, the bittersweet ache of the season replaced by something sweeter: the quiet, steadfast warmth of someone who cared for you deeply.  

You two reached Hyugo, who was waiting by another set of light displays, waving his hand over to call you and Sol to have a closer look.

You couldn’t help but think that this chilly winter night had turned into something magical.  

The soft hum of your phone was the only sound in the stillness of your room, the faint light casting long shadows across the walls as you lay there, scrolling through the pictures from the night of Christmas Eve. Each image flickered before your eyes like a fragment of time—memories that felt both distant and vivid, frozen in the glow of your screen.

The liveliness of Crowe and his friends, the way their energy seemed to fill the room and make the night brighter. Or the warmth of the park, the laughter of Hyugo and Sol, their voices mingling with the cold December air. 

You felt an unexpected peace settle deep in your chest, a quiet kind of comfort.

College may have been over, for now, but something else had started to take root—connections that would stretch far beyond the walls of classrooms and lectures. Friendships that felt solid, steady, like something that might stand the test of time.

Just as you set the phone aside, your eyes began to flutter shut, your body sinking into the softness of the bed, drifting completely off to sleep.

Afterward, the soft sound at the window—a quiet rustle of fabric, the faintest click of the latch being undone. Then, a shadow moved across the room, sleek and fluid, dressed entirely in black. The figure moved with practiced ease, slipping silently through your window as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Sol.

His silhouette was barely visible against the darkness, but you could feel the presence of his mischievous grin even before he stepped into the soft pool of light in your room. He was quick, and efficient as if he had done this a hundred times before, and yet there was something undeniably thoughtful in the way he moved—careful not to disturb anything, as if he didn’t want to interrupt the calm of the night.

He stood there for a moment, just watching your sleeping figure, his eyes heart-shaped, glinting with quiet amusement. You could feel something warm in his gaze. Then, he crossed the room, slow enough not to startle you, and crouched down at the edge of your bed. His black clothing blended into the shadows, the outline of his lean figure and the small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You were deep in sleep, the world around you a blur of comforting darkness. And yet, in that dreamlike space, you could feel his presence, like a whisper threading through the silence. 

"You made it through the year," his voice murmured, a soft, velvety tone that carried a weight of something unspoken—something meaningful. His words were like a gentle caress, and though you could barely register them in your dream state, they stirred something inside you, something warm, something that made you feel understood. 

A movement—delicate, almost reverent—pulled you from the haze of sleep. His hand, steady and sure, reached out to you, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch was feather-light, as though he was afraid to disturb the fragile peace of the moment. You could feel the warmth of his fingertips lingering on your skin, a soft, lingering touch that made you feel protected, and cared for, even in your slumber.

"Wishing you the best in the new year," he whispered, his voice barely audible but thick with intent. 

You didn’t stir, caught in the embrace of sleep, but somehow, his words echoed through your mind like a distant lullaby. His hand dropped, and then there was a shift, the movement of him leaning forward, his presence closer now, filling the space between you. 

His lips brushed against your lip, the kiss so gentle it felt like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. It was brief, fleeting, but tender—an unspoken promise, woven into the light touch, something that lingered on your skin even after he pulled away. His warmth stayed with you for a heartbeat, then another, the feeling of him still hanging in the air like a quiet echo.

For a moment, everything was still. His expression remained unreadable, as it often did, but there was something else there—something deeper, more sincere than you were used to seeing. He didn’t need to say more; his presence was enough. 

"Happy New Year~” he said, his voice soft but carrying a quiet smile, one that tugged at the corners of his lips as though he knew something you didn’t. And then, as swiftly as he had come, he was gone—leaving behind only the lingering warmth of his touch and the faintest trace of his words, woven into the fabric of your dreams. Still, a smile tugged at your lips as you thought about the promise of the new year—of fresh starts and endless possibilities.

Whatever moments the future held, you knew they'd be all the more meaningful depending on who you chose to share them with.

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── · 

[gyuswhore]

unbreaking

life has dealt Wonwoo with a very uncanny set of cards, enough to make every waking hour an uncertainty. there is one thing however, he can always count on to remain unbreaking. well, maybe two.

wc: ~1.5k | contains: Spiderman!jeon wonwoo x reader, fluff, a crime is committed but its not in detail, perpetrator has a gun but doesn't use it

[a/n]: noW I KNOW I already posted my secret Santa fic HOWEVER this one is extra extra special bc its for my one and only camothy 🫶 she's been working vv hard when ive had to take a step back from @camandemstudios duties bc of life and I have concluded that she deserves a litol treat!!! @highvern I remember you talking about spidey wonu at some point so here it is, I hope u enjoy MUAH

also, bigbigbgigbig ty to @the-boy-meets-evilfor beta-ing this for meeee <333

masterlist

The nerves were eating him inside out. He should be used to this, high pressure situations with more than just his life on the line, but Wonwoo can’t stop the waves of nausea that won’t seem to leave. 

His I’m outside message stays in the text box, his thumb hovering over the send button. Swallowing, he lets his thumb rest on the screen and tries not to throw it into your neighbors bushes. 

Dinner with your parents meant that Wonwoo had to reign himself in, keep to his best behaviour, do everything to be anything but himself. As your text bubbles bounce on his screen, he feels his heart come up to his throat. 

[You]: clearance to ring the doorbell!!!

Deep, sharp breath, before he lets out slowly. He hopes his jeans aren’t too informal, his jacket too formal. He realises in that moment that he’s probably gonna have to hang it up, his t-shirt displaying the inevitable cuts and bruises on his arms. He curses under his breath, but it’s too late to change now, the only other pair of clothes in his trunk being his suit. Not an option.

So he rings the doorbell of your family’s home, and makes a futile attempt to clear his head. He imagines taking armfuls of the junk in his mind, dumping it into the recycling bin. He turns around, but the pile’s only doubled. 

A click and the door’s opened, your face poking through the opening, a small smile on your face. Wonwoo feels himself relax at the sight, face morphing into a smile of his own. 

“Hey,” he grins. 

“Hi,” you whisper, unmistakable glint in your eye. “Come in.”

So he does, eyes up to catch anyone in the hall. He’s seen it before, but his stomach lurches when he sees your little sister in the hallway wearing a red t-shirt with a spider on it. Merchandise he’s never gotten a cut for because that would be compromising his identity, but he’d gotten used to it. His nerves are making him jumpy today, which isn’t always a good thing with what he is. 

The last thing he wants is for your mother’s chandelier to end up covered in cobwebs not from actual spiders. 

“Hey!” Wonwoo waves at your sister, who’s done nothing but stare at him since he walked in. 

“Your jacket—” you start. 

“Will stay on,” he interrupts, meeting your expecting eyes in a plea. “Please.”

You don’t ask questions. You never seem to. 

He’s sure to say his hellos to your mother and father as politely as he can muster, but also trying to not sound blank as a sheet. 

He eats what’s on his plate, compliments your dad on the potatoes, your mom on the salad. He remembers to be open for seconds, remembering how you told him your parents are happiest when they can feed their guests. 

Your mother rounds up on your sister, “Do you wanna talk to Wonwoo while I get dessert ready?” 

She’s been half fed by your mother who seems to be in the middle of teaching her how to feed herself. 

The way she stares is unnerving, like she can see right through him. “Do you like Spiderman?”

Your father groans in a whisper, “Gear up, son.”

“Yeah! I like him, he’s cool.” 

“I like him too,” she says, face blank. “I probably like him better than you though.”

“Probably.”

She looks down at her shirt, “My sister got this for me for my birthday.”

Wonwoo looks at you, eyebrows raised. “How come I don’t get one?”

“Because I like him better. Duh!” 

Wonwoo makes a face like he understands, setting his cutlery down to raise his hands, “Of course! I forgot.”

“You’re bad at remembering. You were three minutes late to dinner. Probably because you forgot that too!”

He hears both you and your father exclaim at her in a chide, but Wonwoo only laughs. He should remember to sign something for you to give to your sister. 

You look up to him across the table, a little exasperated but beautiful. His eyes soften, very slowly lifting his sock clad foot to rub against your ankle in reassurance. That's all he can do here. 

After dessert, once Wonwoo is done complimenting you sister on the wonderful and janky icing job, your mother proposes coffee in the living room. It’s there that your sister tunes into the news channel. 

“Have you ever seen a kid beg to put on the news? It’s the only place she can catch Spiderman.” He remembers you telling him that, remembers feeling endeared. 

It was slow background noise for most of the coffee and conversation, and Wonwoo’s nearly done when the unmistakable BREAKING NEWS flashes across the screen like a signal. His guard is down, so he’s too quick to whip his head around to divert his attention. 

It’s a hostage situation, a one man job by the looks of it. Easy work for Wonwoo, but the gun in the crazed man’s shaking hands looks too unsteady to be left the way it is. 

The look you give him is enough. 

Wonwoo’s proud to say he’s gotten his suiting up time down to a matter of seconds, abandoning his car in front of your building as he struggles in the backseat to pull his suit on, before letting the familiar force of his webs take him off into the night. 

His first order of business was getting the wretched gun out of the perpetrator’s hands, watching him wave it about where Wonwoo — Spiderman — was perched on a streetlight. 

He’s done and dusted in the next few minutes, gun caught in his web and hostage right into Spiderman’s loving arms. It was all quite routine at that point, but he notes the cameras more vividly than usual, wonders if your family is still in the living room, watching him, not knowing it was their daughter’s boyfriend they’d just served coffee and delights underneath the rouge mask. 

Wonwoo catches you a few streets over, despite his never ending attempts to chide you whenever you do. It was dangerous enough to be associated with him, but following him to the very circumference of the scene never failed to heighten his nerves. 

He decides to play with you a little, walking with you from the top of the building, matching your pace as you don your favourite coat and walking shoes. No hat, because you know he best recognises people from an aerial view. Not you though, he’d recognise you from anywhere. 

So there he goes, swinging to a street light, before roping himself well enough to secure his descent. You always expect him to drop in on you from above, but hanging upside down in your face was a first. 

You see the mask first, the large teardrop eyes before the red that surrounds them. Jumping back, you yelp loud enough to constitute your hand slapping against your mouth. 

“God, be normal for once!” you chortle. 

Wonwoo is amused. “I’m hanging upside down in a bodysuit, hardly anything normal about me.” 

You can only sigh, shoulders sagging as you look at him in the streetlight. “Can you quit handling people with long range weapons? You know how quickly that can get ugly.”

“Can you stop following me to said places?”

You make a sour face, “You know my answer.”

“I do. Stubborn till the end.”

“Does the blood not rush to your head like that?” you ask, looking around absentmindedly, like you were trying to find passersby this late at night. 

“No one’s here,” he whispers to you. 

Moving in closer, you continue speaking. “My sister’s smitten with you.”

“Spiderman will be sure to bump into her sometime.” He grins under the mask, glad he’s able to gain that all important approval. 

“Can Jeon Wonwoo bump into me sometime? I miss you, you know.” 

“I miss you more, baby.” The but hangs in the air, but he doesn’t take it in his mouth.

Instead, he feels a pressure against his mask, right where his lips are. You kiss him through the material, and Wonwoo has to consciously grip onto his webs. 

The unmistakable warmth of your fingers finds the end of his mask, pulling at it slowly, revealing the skin of his neck, the beginning of his chin, up to the pink of his lips. 

You kiss him again, there where he hangs from a streetlight, there where he knows he’ll always be able to find you. The feeling of his suit, the feeling of your lips on his; they meld in ways he won’t ever understand. 

Spiderman confuses Wonwoo, an enigma that feels both a boon and a curse. But Wonwoo loves you, in all that he is, and that remains the one thing he can always count on, like his webs in all ways, to be firm and unbreaking.

[fanbasetwo]

Ꮺ . , CUZ YOU’RE MY HYPE BOY , L.CY !

PAIRING: bf ! anton × gf ! afab reader. SYNOPSIS: never in your wildest dreams had you dreampt of leaking at the wrong time but here you were, trying to hide the stain your period blood left on your bf's sheets—will you succeed? [REQUESTED] . . . . . . GENRE: fluff, fic, period talk & mentions of pain and blood obvio. WORD COUNT: 1.6k [LIBRARY] ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 sena’s note — this was such a cute fic to write, thank you to the anon who requested, ily <3

You wake up to a sharp, familiar ache in your stomach, and a groan slips out before you can stop it. The cramps are bad—bad enough to make you regret spending the night at Anton’s apartment. You weren’t planning on staying over, but it was late, and Anton, being the gentleman he is, insisted you shouldn’t walk home alone.

Now, though, you wish you’d just gone home. Because as the pain twists in your lower stomach, you have an awful realization.

Carefully, you lift the blanket and glance down, your heart dropping. There, on Anton’s spotless, white sheets, is a visible red stain.

Your period.

For a moment, you just stare at it, horrified, your cheeks burning. How could you forget it was coming? And of course, it had to happen here, of all places. Your hormones are already making you emotional, and now panic kicks in full force.

Anton is still fast asleep behind you, his soft breathing the only sound in the room. You glance back at him, guilt and embarrassment tangling in your chest. He looks so peaceful, completely unaware of the mess you’ve made.

Your mind races. What is he going to think? Will he be mad about his sheets? Annoyed that you’ve ruined his morning?

And yet, a small voice in your head reminds you of who Anton is—the same Anton who stayed up late helping you pick out groceries, who insisted on carrying your bag even though it wasn’t that heavy. He’d never yell at you. Right?

Still, you can’t shake the nerves. You’ve worked so hard to keep a good image in front of him—always put-together, always in control. And now this? How are you supposed to explain it?

Taking a deep breath, you sit up slowly, wincing as another cramp hits. You’ll have to handle this before he wakes up. You just hope he’ll understand if he finds out.

You’re so lost in your panicked thoughts that you don’t even notice Anton stirring behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, but you immediately squirm out of his grip.

Anton blinks, rubbing his eyes with a sleepy confusion. The sun hasn’t fully risen yet, and the soft morning light barely fills the room. His brows furrow as he sits up slightly, his voice gentle and laced with concern. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You open your mouth, intending to brush it off, to say nothing, but the words catch in your throat. His gaze is too soft, too worried, and for a second, you freeze.

But Anton isn’t as clueless as you hoped he’d be. He pauses, his nose twitching slightly, his expression shifting. There’s something about the smell—unmistakably off. Not that he knows exactly what period blood smells like, but it’s… different. And it’s coming from you.

Before he can say anything, another gush of blood makes your stomach twist, and you bolt from the bed, rushing toward the bathroom. Your heart is pounding as you shut the door behind you, barely holding back tears as you glance down. Your underwear and pants are already worse than before, and the humiliation hits harder than the cramps.

You lean against the bathroom counter, trying to steady your breathing, but all you can think is: How am I going to face him now?

Anton isn’t confused—he’s just worried. The moment you shut the bathroom door, he glances down at the bed and notices the fresh red stain on his pristine white sheets. He doesn’t hesitate. Getting out of bed, he approaches the bathroom door, softly knocking as he hears the faint sound of your sobs.

“Baby, talk to me. Do you need anything?” His voice is gentle, filled with concern.

You try to keep it together, forcing out a shaky, “I’m fine,” from behind the door.

But Anton isn’t buying it. After a brief pause, he knocks again, his voice a little quieter this time. “I… I kept a packet of pads in my drawer. You know, just in case… so… you can…”

He trails off awkwardly, and you can easily picture him standing outside the door, scratching the back of his neck, trying to give you space but wanting to help.

You wipe at the tear slipping down your cheek, your embarrassment still overwhelming. “Do you… have them right now?” you ask hesitantly, your voice small.

“Yeah.”

“Okay…” You take a deep breath. “I’ll open the door. Oh gosh, this is so embarrassing.”

You crack the door open just enough to let him hand the pad through. Anton doesn’t try to look inside, and you snatch it quickly before shutting the door again. But as you glance down at your ruined underwear and pants, another wave of frustration and helplessness washes over you.

“Um…” you mutter, hesitating before you call out again, your voice shaky. “My panties and pants… they…” You trail off, staring at the bloody mess.

You groan, more to yourself than to him. “Why does it have to be me? God!” The urge to yell is overwhelming, but before you can spiral further, Anton knocks again, his voice soft but steady.

“Here,” he says, slipping a pair of boxers and shorts under the door. “They’re mine, but, um, the boxers are an old pair—probably a little smaller, so they might fit okay. And the shorts are loose, so…”

You stare at the clothes, his thoughtfulness surprising you. He adds quickly, “Oh, I put the blanket in the wash. Don’t worry about it. And… if you want me to, I could wash your panties and pants too—”

“PLEASE NO!” you blurt out, horrified. “IT’S DISGUSTING, EVEN FOR ME!”

Anton flinches on the other side of the door, your sudden outburst making him fall silent. “Okay,” he mumbles, his tone a little sheepish, before retreating to give you space.

As you get yourself cleaned up, you can’t help but replay everything in your mind, the humiliation bubbling up again. But underneath the embarrassment, a tiny flicker of gratitude lingers. Anton may have seen more of you than you’d ever intended, but his calm, gentle way of handling it makes you feel just a little less alone.

You’re not sure how much time has passed as you stand in the bathroom, rinsing the blood from your panties and pants. You know you’ll eventually need to properly wash them later—leaving them would just make the smell worse. The memory of an old, similar experience leaves you determined to clean up the mess as best as you can now, even though the situation still feels mortifying.

After finishing, you take a deep breath, shoulders slumping as you step out of the bathroom. Your hands are thoroughly washed, but guilt still weighs heavy on you. You can’t help but feel like you’ve ruined Anton’s peaceful holiday morning with this mess.

Always causing trouble, you scold yourself internally.

But the soft, refreshing smell of lavender in the air pulls you out of your spiral. Glancing around, you spot the faint flicker of a lavender-scented candle melt on the nightstand. He must have lit it to make sure you didn’t feel self-conscious about any lingering smells.

Your chest tightens, warmth blooming where shame had been moments ago. Why was Anton so thoughtful? So gentle? You couldn’t help but fall for him a little more.

“Baby,” his voice calls from the other room, breaking your thoughts. You turn, finding him standing near the bed with two plates in his hands. “I made us both—woah.”

His jaw drops slightly, and you follow his gaze, realizing you’re still wearing his shorts and boxers. They’re a bit oversized, sitting loosely on your frame, and suddenly you feel self-conscious.

“What’s that?” you blurt, quickly trying to divert his attention. Your eyes land on the plates in his hands.

“Oh, this?” He holds them up slightly, a sheepish grin on his face. “I cooked for us… since you’re on your… ehm, periods.” His cheeks flush slightly as he finishes, his voice awkward but endearing. It’s clear this is all new to him, and you realize—you’re his first girlfriend, and this is probably the first time he’s ever dealt with something like this.

You blink in surprise, glancing at the plates again. Eggs, fully cooked, sit neatly on them. It’s not perfect, but it’s not runny either. You know how much Anton struggles to cook, so this feels like a small miracle.

The realization of everything he’s done for you hits hard. He didn’t just stop at replacing the sheets or lighting the candle—he even attempted cooking despite his lack of skill.

Your chest swells with emotion, and before you can stop yourself, you wrap your arms around him. Anton flinches slightly, caught off guard with both plates still in his hands. You bury your face in his chest, mumbling, “You don’t think I’m weird?”

Anton tilts his head, the corners of his lips twitching into a small, innocent smile. “I just think you’re fertile.”

The sheer absurdity of the statement makes you laugh, even as a tear slips down your cheek. He’s so clueless yet so sincere that it’s impossible to stay embarrassed.

You pull back, wiping the tear away as he teased, “I love you, but I’d appreciate it more if you forget the stain and instead praise this chef.”

Anton smirks, watching as you plant a soft peck on his lips. He doesn’t even get the chance to pull you closer, both hands still occupied with the plates. The warmth of his love and efforts almost makes you forget the dull ache in your stomach.

Even if your cramps are still there, maybe surviving this morning with your boyfriend’s cooking and his genuine care will be enough to make the pain feel a little less overwhelming—even if his cooking turns out to be a bit of a disaster.

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© fanbasetwo | tumblr

[heart-eyed-love]

Charms

Summary | Eddie has a small gift for you before you both leave for Christmas break

Contains | Fem!Reader, Friends-to-Lovers, Cursing

Word Count | 1.2k

An | Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates, this is coming out late :( but I hope everyone had a good day!

It was the last day before Christmas break, and you were more than relieved to say the least. You need a 2 week break away from this shit hole. And while you had your friends, you still needed a break from this place.

You were gonna go visit some of your family members during the break, not the plans you had originally hoped for, but in your opinion just about anything was better than this school.

You had slightly brought up to your friends in passing that you were gonna be out of town during break, but it wasn’t something you had necessarily thought they’d care to remember. And it wasn’t something you’d be offended about them forgetting either way, you knew something you tend to fade to the background of settings.

So that afternoon, as you shoved all the books and papers you’d no longer need in your backpack over this break back into your locker, you let yourself sigh in relief as you now held a significantly lighter backpack.

“Hey…” The voice sneaks up behind you, causing you to jump. And when you turn to look at the source and smirking Eddie comes into view.

“Hi?” You answer back, raised brows at the boy in front of you, “What’s up?” You ask, shutting your locker as you do, and he can’t help but take notice of the jangling of your charm bracelet he knows all too well.

“Oh you know, nothing much. Excited to get out of here?”

“Yeah, I mean, who isn’t? It’s school… so I’m pretty sure everyone is eager to get out of here… aren’t you?” You ask back, looking up at the boy in front of you. Even after hanging out with him and the hellfire, you still feel a little awkward around him.

“Oh yeah totally, I’m gonna spend my whole break probably getting high, and doing jack shit, you know, basically the whole point of the break for me, right?” He’s all smirky and it’s so distracting when he gets like this… well when he gets like this with you. You never completely got used to the times where you’re the center of his attention.

“Yeah, right… Sounds nice…” You nod softly as you throw your backpack over your shoulder.

“It will be… if you weren’t going out of town I’d invite you over…” He’s hasn’t necessarily gone shy but he’s not as confident as he normally is and it’s throwing you off a bit. And If what he says is true, and he’d really like to invite you over, you’d take that over this trip to see a few family members who don’t necessarily give too much of a shit about you. But no. Now you have to miss out on the one thing you’ve always wanted.

“That sounds a lot better than having to go hang out with a bunch of family members who don’t even know who I am…” You chuckle slightly to yourself, and he smiles sweetly back at you and you can’t help yourself from feeling distracted from the look on his face.

“Yeah? Well that’s kinda why I came over here…” He pulls his back from his shoulder and unzips it, digging through it for a second, before pulling out a poorly wrapped box. A small bow sitting on top of it. Your brows raise in question, “Uhm… I got you something… you know, for Christmas.” He smiles.

“Oh shit, really? I- I didn’t get you anything….” You feel bad immediately, you had no idea he was gonna get you a gift, if you had you wouldn’t allow yourself to go all out for him like you always truly wanted.

“Oh no! No, don’t worry about it… it’s more like just so you don’t forget about us while you’re gone…”

“Forget about you?”

“Yeah, you know… Hellfire… me.” He smirks. To be quite frank he didn’t give a shit about Hellfire in this stance, forget about them all you want just don’t go forgetting about him.

“I’m only gonna be gone for like 2 weeks, if that.” You say with a teasing laugh, that has the soft smile reappearing on his face, and you don’t notice it, but his face heats up.

“Yeah, well here anyways…” He hands the box with a shrug.

You grab the box from him with a smile, “Do you want me to open it now?”

“Yeah, go for it…”

You pull the nicely tied bow from the top, leaving only the terribly wrapped box, and you couldn’t help but feel a swarm of butterflies. It was cute. He was cute. “Sorry, apparently I’m shit at wrapping.” He chuckled lightly.

“It’s alright.” You smile up at him, before looking back down to ripping the paper off the gift and a small box is now in front of you, Eddie grabs the wrapping paper from your hands for you, shoving it into his backpack.

You open the box and a small charm is revealed to you, it’s a small black bat. It’s beautiful, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a charm. It reminds you more of Eddie than the rest of the boys and you can’t help but like it more for that fact.

Eddie inspects your face as you look at the charm. He saw it at the mall while he was trying to find something for Wayne and for some reason he just needed to get it for. But damn, for some reason this small piece of metal was more expensive than he thought it needed to be.

But whatever it was for you anyways.

“You like it?” He asks, slightly nervous at the lack of words coming from you.

You look up from the charm in the box and see that smidge of fear in his face, “What? Oh my gosh! Yes, of course!” And the smile you love so much graces his face, “I love it, thank you, Eddie.”

“I’m glad you like it… thought it would go nice with all the other ones you have…” He lets his fiddle with the charm bracelet on your wrist, and you blush a tad bit at the feeling of his fingers against it.

“I really do…” You watch as the hallways drain of students and you know your time with him is limited, your bus is gonna leave soon, “My bus is about to leave… but thank you again, Eddie. It means a lot…”

“Yeah, of course… Uh, I mean I could drive you home if you want? Are you leaving today?”

“Oh, uh… No, we’re leaving tomorrow. Like ass crack of dawn.” You roll your eyes.

“Damn, first day of break and you’re still having to walk up early?” He laughs, and you can’t help but smile at the sounds.

“Right? That’s what I said, she just told me to get over it so it looks like I’m waking up early… but uh, yeah… a ride would be really nice…” I nod with a shy smile.

“Sweet, follow me…” He leads you out to his van, one you’ve seen time and time before but only ever rarely been in it. Definitely never just the two of you. He opened the van door for you and everything.

You were definitely gonna come back from break with a gift of your own for him.

[yassbishimvintage]

Shut it Down

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 2.8k

MDNI!

A/N: Merry Christmas y'all.

The sun was shining down in Imani’s face. She had to tear herself away from Terry this morning. Her sister Maya wanted to have breakfast with her to check in. “So now that he’s home how is he?” She asks. Imani sighs. She had to be careful of how she answered the next question. Even though Terry loved her family like his own, he still didn’t want to show weakness. 

Imani sipped her coffee as her sister, Maya, watched her curiously from across the diner booth. They had always been close, and Maya could read her like a book. Setting her mug down, Imani took a moment to gather her thoughts before answering.

"He’s... adjusting," Imani replied softly. "It’s been tough for him. Losing Mike, the stress of everything back in Shelby Springs... it’s a lot to process."

Maya nodded, her brow furrowing with concern. "That man has been through hell and back, hasn’t he?" she said. "But what about you? You okay? I know you’re strong, but you can’t pour from an empty cup, sis."

Imani smiled faintly at her sister's words. "I’m okay," she said, though the truth was more complicated. "I just want to be there for him, you know? He’s carrying so much, and I can see it weighing on him. Some days he’s better, but others... it’s like he’s still fighting a battle, just in his head now."

Maya reached across the table and placed her hand over Imani’s. "You’re doing more than enough, Imani. He’s lucky to have you. But make sure he knows it’s okay to lean on you, really lean on you. Sometimes men like him think they have to bear it all alone."

Imani nodded. "I try to remind him of that every day," she said. "Last night, he... he let me in a little more. It’s progress, I guess. I just want him to see that he’s not alone anymore."

Maya leaned back, studying her sister. "You love him, don’t you?"

"With everything in me," Imani said without hesitation.

Maya smiled. "Then he’s got a fighting chance. But don’t forget—taking care of yourself is part of taking care of him. Don’t lose sight of that."

Imani gave her sister a grateful look, appreciating the reminder. "I won’t," she promised. "Thanks, Maya."

"Anytime," Maya said with a wink. "Now, tell me more about this roast beef dinner you made last night. I’m starting to think you’re spoiling that man."

Imani chuckled. "I might be. But he deserves it."

They spent the rest of breakfast laughing and catching up, Imani feeling lighter after the conversation. She had her sister's support, and that meant everything.She smirks. “Now. How’s the sex?” She asks. Imani nearly choked on her coffee, her eyes widening as she looked at Maya. "Really? That’s what you’re asking me right now?" she said, trying to keep her voice down.

Maya raised an eyebrow, unbothered by Imani’s reaction. "Of course, I’m asking. You’ve been glowing lately, so either it’s the sex, or you’ve found a new skincare routine, and I know you too well to believe the latter."

Imani rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile from tugging at her lips. "It’s… amazing, as always," she admitted, her voice dropping slightly. "He’s just... so attentive. Like, he takes his time, you know? Makes sure I’m good before anything else."

Maya leaned in, her interest clearly piqued. "Girl, go on. Don’t leave me hanging."

Imani laughed softly, shaking her head. "Let’s just say he knows exactly what I need, even when I don’t say it. And he’s so... gentle with me, but not too gentle, if you know what I mean."

Maya grinned mischievously. "Oh, I know what you mean. Big, strong, marine boyfriend who’s soft for you but can turn it up when needed? Imani, you’re living the dream."

Imani blushed but couldn’t help laughing. "Okay, enough about my sex life. How’s yours?"

Maya waved her hand dismissively. "Nonexistent at the moment, but that’s fine. I’m focused on me right now. But seriously, I’m happy for you. It sounds like Terry really sees you and loves you the way you deserve."

Imani nodded, her expression softening. "He does. And I don’t take that for granted, not for a second."

Maya raised her coffee mug in a toast. "To men who love us right and know how to handle business."

Imani laughed, clinking her mug against her sister’s. "I’ll drink to that.” Maya turns her head to glance out the window. She sees a black GMC Dua..ley pull into the parking lot. “Who’s that?” she asks. 

Imani turned to look where Maya was pointing and spotted the large GMC Dually parked a few spaces away. The truck was pristine, its black paint gleaming under the morning sun, with chrome accents that looked freshly polished. It stood out among the sedans and SUVs in the lot.

Imani raised an eyebrow, recognizing it immediately. "That’s Terry’s truck."

Maya’s eyes widened as she leaned closer to the window. "Wait, he followed you here? What is he, your bodyguard now?"

Imani couldn’t help but chuckle. "No, he probably just wanted to check in on me. You know how he is."

Maya smirked. "Yeah, overprotective and a little territorial. But honestly, can you blame him? Look at you."

Imani rolled her eyes but smiled, gathering her things. "Come on, let’s go say hi before he thinks I’m avoiding him."

As they stepped outside, Terry climbed out of the truck, his towering frame and confident stride impossible to miss. He wore a simple fitted T-shirt and jeans, but the way he carried himself made him look effortlessly commanding.

"Hey, babe," Imani called, walking up to him. "What are you doing here?"

Terry flashed her a small smile, his eyes softening when they met hers. "Just wanted to see you. Figured you might want to grab lunch after you’re done with your sister."

Maya crossed her arms, looking between them with a teasing grin. "You’re setting the bar way too high for the rest of us, Terry. Showing up unannounced just to take her to lunch?"

Terry shrugged, his smile turning a bit sheepish. "What can I say? I like spending time with her."

Imani shook her head, trying to hide her amusement. "Well, since you’re here, why don’t you come sit with us for a bit?"

Terry glanced at Maya, who raised her hands in mock surrender. "Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll keep the embarrassing sister stories to a minimum."

He chuckled, holding the door open for both women. "Appreciate that."

Maya smirks and quickly asks him. “So tell me Mr Marine. What kind of sex spell you got on my little sister.” She says

Terry paused mid-step, his brow arching as a slow smirk spread across his face. "Excuse me?" he asked, his deep voice laced with amusement. He glanced at Imani, who was already groaning in embarrassment, her hand covering her face.

"Maya!" Imani hissed, shooting her sister a glare.

"What?" Maya said innocently, shrugging as she took her seat. "I’m just saying. She’s been glowing since y’all got together, and I’m convinced it’s not just the happy weight."

Terry chuckled, taking the chair beside Imani and resting an arm casually on the back of her seat. His eyes flicked to Maya with a mischievous gleam. "Let’s just say I aim to please," he said smoothly, his tone playful but carrying enough weight to make Maya blink in surprise.

Imani gasped, turning to him. "Terry!"

He laughed, leaning over to kiss her temple. "What? She asked."

Maya burst out laughing, clapping her hands. "Alright, I see you, Marine. No wonder she’s hooked."

Imani shook her head, trying to hide her smile. "You’re impossible, both of you."

Maya grinned, picking up her coffee. "Hey, I’m just trying to figure out why you’re so happy all the time. If it’s because of him, then props to you, Terry. You’re doing something right."

Terry shrugged, his expression softening as he looked at Imani. "She deserves to be happy. That’s all that matters to me."

Maya tilted her head, a rare seriousness settling in her tone. "Well, as long as you keep that mindset, we’re good. I’m just looking out for my baby sister."

Terry nodded, his voice steady. "I wouldn’t expect anything less."

Imani glanced between the two, her heart full as she reached for Terry’s hand under the table, giving it a squeeze.

When she gets in his truck she rests her head on the glass. Everytime he drives his hand rests on her thigh.

As Terry drove, the hum of the engine and the subtle rhythm of the tires on the pavement filled the quiet between them. Imani leaned her head against the cool window, her thoughts wandering as the scenery blurred past. The warmth of Terry’s hand resting on her thigh was a steadying comfort, grounding her in the moment.

It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about their bond. His thumb moved in absentminded circles, a habit he had whenever his hand found its home there. She glanced down at it and smiled softly, her fingers drifting to rest lightly over his.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, his deep voice breaking the silence.

She turned her head slightly to look at him, the way his strong hands gripped the wheel and how his eyes flicked between her and the road. "I’m okay," she replied, her voice gentle. "Just thinking."

Terry gave her thigh a small squeeze, his way of saying he was there for her without needing words. "About what?"

"About how much I love this," she said softly, her eyes meeting his for a brief second before returning to the passing view outside.

"This?" he asked, his brow arching slightly.

"This," she repeated, covering his hand with hers. "The little things. You driving us, your hand here...it’s just us. I love it."

Terry smiled, his expression softening as he gave her thigh another squeeze. "I love it too," he said simply.

And with that, they fell back into a comfortable silence, letting the unspoken connection between them speak louder than words ever could.

He pulls over. She lifts her head up confused. Terry eased the truck onto the shoulder of the quiet road, the hum of the engine settling into a low idle. He turned to her, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Let’s play 'wandering hand,'" he said, his voice deep and teasing, the hint of mischief in his eyes unmistakable.

Imani couldn't help but roll her eyes, though a soft laugh escaped her. "Terry," she said, her tone half-amused, half-scolding.

"What?" he replied, feigning innocence as his free hand left the steering wheel and settled on her knee. "You know the rules."

His fingers began their slow, deliberate journey, trailing up her thigh in featherlight strokes that sent a shiver through her. Imani pressed her lips together, trying to maintain composure, but the way his touch lingered just enough to tease made her heart race.

"You’re impossible," she muttered, though there was no real annoyance in her voice.

"And you love it," he shot back, his grin widening as his hand slipped just beneath the hem of her skirt.

Imani reached out, placing her hand over his to halt his progress, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her resolve. "You’re going to get us caught, Terry."

"We’re parked," he said, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent heat spiraling through her. "And it’s not like anyone’s around."

She bit her lip, trying to resist the pull of his charm, but when his lips brushed against her neck and his hand resumed its exploration, resistance became futile. "You’re lucky I love you," she whispered, her voice shaky as she gave in to the moment.

His soft chuckle against her skin was his only reply as the game of "wandering hand" took on a life of its own, the world outside the truck fading into the background.

Terry’s hand paused at the waistband of her panties, his fingers teasingly slipping just beneath the fabric. His breath was warm against her ear as he murmured, “You gonna let me keep going, baby?”

Imani’s breath hitched, her body responding before her mind could form words. She glanced at him, her gaze caught in the intensity of his eyes. “Terry...” she began, her voice soft, laced with a mix of hesitation and desire.

His thumb stroked the delicate skin of her hip, his lips brushing against the corner of her mouth. “Say the word, and I’ll stop,” he said, his voice calm but thick with want. “But if you want me to keep going... I need to hear you say it.”

Her heartbeat thundered in her chest as she let out a shaky exhale. The heat of his hand, the gentle yet deliberate pressure of his touch, sent sparks skittering through her. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her words barely audible, but they carried all the permission he needed.

Terry leaned in, capturing her lips with his as his hand slid lower, exploring her with the same care and attention that always left her breathless. The world outside the truck was forgotten entirely as they lost themselves in each other, the quiet intimacy between them deepening with every touch and kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless and tangled in the charged energy of the moment, Terry rested his forehead against hers. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he whispered, his voice low and full of emotion.

Imani smiled, her cheeks flushed. “Right back at you,” she replied softly, her hands resting on his shoulders as the truck’s engine purred quietly in the background.

“Now I’m turned on and we’re no where near home.” She says. 

Terry smirked, his eyes darkening with mischief. “Who said we need to be home for me to take care of you?” he teased, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine.

Imani raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, so you’re bold now, huh?”

He chuckled, leaning in closer so his lips brushed against her ear. “I’ve always been bold, baby. You just bring it out of me.”

Her cheeks flushed as she swatted at his chest. “Terry, you’re impossible.”

He grinned, his hand still resting possessively on her thigh. “Only for you.”

His hand moved up her thigh as they drove down the road. His thumb doing lazy circles on her exposed skin.

As Terry’s hand moved higher up her thigh, Imani let out a soft breath, feeling the warmth of his touch spread through her. She glanced over at him, catching the glint of mischief in his eyes as his thumb traced slow, deliberate circles. Her heart raced a little, the anticipation of their playful energy making her pulse quicken.

That’s when she couldn’t take it anymore. Not the first time and won’t be the last time they had car sex. In her head she thanks him for the dark tint on the windows. Imani maneuvers herself over the console. She straddles him. “You know I hate car sex.” She says.

Terry chuckles softly, his hands resting on her hips as she straddles him. “You always say that, but then you seem to enjoy it once we get started.” He smirks, his lips brushing against her ear as he speaks.

Imani laughs quietly, leaning in closer. “It’s the lack of space. I like to take my time,” she responds, her hands sliding up his chest as she finds comfort in the familiar closeness of his body.

He presses his forehead to hers, his voice turning playful but with a touch of sincerity. “If you don’t like it, we can always find somewhere else next time.”

She smiles, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "Next time,” she repeats softly, her fingers trailing down his chest, slowly teasing. “But for now...” she leans in, kissing him deeply as her body melts into his.

Terry, ever responsive to her, deepens the kiss, his hands moving to the small of her back to pull her even closer. As the moment lingers, they forget about the cramped space, lost in the connection they share.

“Now. Let me hear you moan for me real fast.” He says. She moans as his hands reach their destination. One thing that always made sure that made him on rock hard was her moans. In the next breath, “Now. Tell me you love me.” He says.

-

As they arrived at their destination, Imani instinctively reached for Terry's hand, intertwining her fingers with his. She gave it a gentle squeeze, glancing up at him with a soft smile.

“You ready?” she asked, her voice filled with warmth and reassurance.

Terry nodded, his grip on her hand firm yet tender. “As long as you’re with me, I’m ready for anything,” he replied, his tone carrying the weight of his sincerity.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayaesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @haechvn @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @kimuzostar @notpradagurl7 @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque

[that-one-ostrich-friend]

just a drink

older!sirius black x reader - just a drink

word count: 4k

summary: after a long meeting with the order sirius invites y/n to stay for… just a drink

warnings: kissing, mentions of age gap, absolutely infatuated sirius (bc i like men who shower me with compliments and affection) also slight dumbledore hate

a/n: once again i went insane with this. there are so many other things i should be writing for you but i just have to share this

     The room was dimly lit, the flickering candles casting long shadows across the mismatched chairs and the weathered wooden table. The members of the Order of the Phoenix sat packed tightly together, their faces solemn as Dumbledore spoke. The tension in the air was palpable, the kind that settled deep in the bones and refused to let go.

     Y/N sat near the middle of the table, between Remus and Sirius. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her jaw tight as she listened to Dumbledore outline the latest developments. Her patience was thin tonight, thinner than usual. The constant weight of the war, the sleepless nights, and now the decisions being made without enough consideration for their consequences—it was all too much.

     Dumbledore’s voice carried on, steady and commanding. “We need to establish a stronger presence near Diagon Alley. The Death Eaters are becoming bolder in their attacks, and we must be prepared for the possibility of a strike closer to the heart of wizarding London.”

     Y/N’s fingers tapped against her arm, her brow furrowing. She could feel the frustration building, a knot tightening in her chest. “I don’t see how that helps,” she muttered under her breath.

     Her voice was quiet, but Sirius, sitting to her right, caught it. He glanced at her, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. She always had something to say, always pushed back against authority when she thought they were wrong. It was one of the things he admired about her— her fire.

     Dumbledore continued, unbothered. “A visible presence in the area will serve as both a deterrent and a warning. However, we must exercise caution. Any unnecessary provocation could lead to—”

     “With all due respect, sir,” Y/N interrupted, her voice cutting through the room, “standing around looking official isn’t going to stop them. They already know we’re here, and they’re not afraid of us. If anything, it’ll just make us targets.”

     The room fell silent. All eyes turned to her, some surprised, others wary. Y/N felt the weight of their stares but held her ground, her gaze steady on Dumbledore.

     “Y/N,” Remus murmured beside her, his voice low and calm. He placed a hand on her back, a gesture meant to steady her. “Not now.”

     The touch was gentle but firm, and Y/N felt herself deflate slightly. She bit back a retort and leaned back in her chair, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest.

     Sirius’s eyes flicked to the spot where Remus’s hand rested on Y/N’s back. His smirk faded, replaced by a subtle tightening of his jaw. He knew the gesture was innocent—Remus had always been protective of her, just as he was with everyone in their group—but it still bothered him. There was an ease between them, a quiet understanding, that Sirius couldn’t help but envy.

     And yet, he had no right to feel that way. She wasn’t his.

     He leaned back in his chair, forcing his gaze away from them and pretending to focus on the parchment in front of him. But his thoughts refused to cooperate.

     The age gap. That damned age gap.

     It was the reason he hadn’t made a move, the thing that held him back every time he caught himself watching her for too long or thinking about her late at night. She was young, vibrant, full of life. He was weighed down by a lifetime of mistakes and regrets. What right did he have to want her?

     Dumbledore’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Now, onto the matter of Hogsmeade,” he said, gesturing to the map on the table. “There have been reports of suspicious activity near the Shrieking Shack. I’ll need volunteers to investigate—discreetly, of course.”

     Y/N straightened slightly, her interest piqued. Sirius could see the determination in her eyes, the way she was already considering the assignment. But before she could speak, Remus gave her a subtle nudge with his elbow.

     “Don’t,” he murmured, his tone light but pointed.

     She shot him a look, half annoyed, half amused. Sirius felt a twinge of something—jealousy, irritation, he wasn’t sure—as he watched the exchange. They had their own unspoken language, a bond that had formed over years of shared experiences and trust.

     The meeting dragged on, Dumbledore moving from one topic to the next. Y/N’s frustration simmered beneath the surface, evident in the way she tapped her fingers against the table or shifted in her seat. Sirius found it hard to focus. His attention kept drifting to her—to the way her hair caught the candlelight, the way her brow furrowed in concentration.

      And then there were the little things, the details only he seemed to notice: the way her lips pressed together when she was deep in thought, the soft sigh she let out when something annoyed her.

     By the time the meeting adjourned, Y/N had reached her limit. She stood abruptly, muttering something about needing fresh air.

     Sirius watched her go, his eyes lingering on the way her hair swayed as she walked. He wondered if she realized how captivating she was, if she had any idea how much space she occupied in his thoughts.

     “You’re not very subtle, you know,” Remus said, breaking the silence.

     Sirius turned to him, frowning. “What are you on about?”

     Remus smirked, his tone dry. “You’ve been staring at her all night.”

     “I wasn’t staring,” Sirius said quickly, too quickly.

     “Right,” Remus said, gathering his things. “Just try not to make it so obvious next time.”

     Sirius let out a huff of irritation, running a hand through his hair. 

     But it was hard to look away.

     As the room emptied, Sirius stayed behind, slumping back in his chair. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows across the walls. He closed his eyes, letting out a low sigh.

     The truth was, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d tried—Merlin, he’d tried—but she was always there, lingering in the back of his mind. Her voice, her smile, the way she carried herself with so much confidence and determination.

━━━━━━━•✧°•°𓅦°•°✧•━━━━━━━

     The cold outside felt like it seeped into her bones as soon as she stepped through the door, the chill from the air making Y/N shiver. She had rushed out earlier, frustrated with the meeting and the constant back-and-forth of words that never seemed to result in any real action. But now, standing alone in the cold yard of Grimmauld Place, she realized she’d left her coat and bag behind in the rush.

     With a resigned sigh, she turned back toward the house, the heavy wooden door creaking slightly as she entered. The warmth of the house immediately wrapped around her, but it wasn’t enough to shake the unease still lingering in her chest. She moved quickly through the entryway, making her way back to the sitting room where she had left her belongings.

     The house was eerily quiet now. The voices, the laughter, the bustling of the meeting—it had all vanished. The flickering candlelight in the sitting room seemed to magnify the silence, making everything feel still.

     She paused when she saw him.

     Sirius was sitting at the table, the same spot where the Order meeting had been held just a short while ago. His elbows rested on the edge of the table, his hands folded loosely in front of him, and his gaze was distant. He hadn’t noticed her entrance yet, his focus still on some faraway thought.

     Y/N’s steps slowed as she studied him for a moment, unsure of what to make of the stillness that seemed to surround him. He didn’t appear to have noticed her yet, his focus still on something she couldn’t see.

     She cleared her throat softly, breaking the quiet.

     Sirius looked up at the sound, his gray eyes meeting hers immediately, the hint of a smile pulling at his lips. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of the past few hours hanging between them.

     “Forgot my coat,” Y/N said, her voice a little more subdued than usual as she gestured toward the chair where she had left her things.

     Sirius nodded, sitting up straighter in his seat. “You left in a bit of a hurry,” he said, a wry smile on his face. “Cold out there.”

     Y/N glanced down at her coat, then at him. “I guess I didn’t think about the cold.”

     “Would’ve figured you for someone who’d remember that,” he teased, but there was something softer in his voice now.

     Y/N stepped forward, picking up her coat from the chair. As her fingers brushed against the fabric, she hesitated. The frustration she had felt during the meeting had yet to leave her. The weight of Dumbledore’s decisions, the helplessness of their situation, had settled deep within her.

     Sirius observed her, his gaze softening. The silence between them was now something different, something more reflective. "You alright?" he asked quietly, his voice devoid of teasing now, the softness lingering in his words.

     “I’ll be fine,” she said lightly, tugging her coat tighter around her shoulders. “I just... I need to clear my head.”

     Sirius raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You look like you could use a drink. How about you stay for a bit?”

     Y/N hesitated. She knew what he was offering: a brief escape, a chance to let their shoulders down after the weight of the meeting. It was a kindness, one she rarely turned down when offered, but she wasn’t sure she was in the mood for conversation—at least, not the kind he seemed to want.

     She smoothed a hand over her coat, then met his gaze. "I don’t want to be a bother.”

     A small chuckle escaped him, though it didn’t reach his eyes the way it usually did. He was trying, she could see that, but there was a quiet undercurrent in his voice now, one that didn’t have the usual playfulness. It was something else—something deeper.

     “You’re not a bother. You never are.” He paused, watching her closely, as though he were searching for something behind her guarded expression. “Come on. Let’s just... have a drink. Relax a little. Please.”

     Y/N could feel the hesitation in her chest, that resistance she’d built around herself, but she also knew she didn’t want to go back to her flat alone—not after tonight. Not when she could still feel the sharp sting of everything they had just discussed lingering in her mind. Maybe, just maybe, a drink with Sirius would help take the edge off.

     She sighed, stepping away from the doorframe. “Alright. Just one drink.”

     Sirius’s smile, though small, was genuine. It reached his eyes this time, and for a brief moment, Y/N caught a glimpse of something in his expression—a flicker of hope or perhaps relief. But then he masked it again, as he always did, with that ever-present, charismatic ease.

     “Excellent,” he said, gesturing toward the kitchen. “I’ll let you pick the poison. But if you say Firewhisky, I’m warning you, I’ll be pouring myself a double.”

     Y/N shook her head as she followed him through the hall. “I’m not in the mood for something that strong,” she replied, though she couldn’t hide the slight smile that tugged at her lips.

     He led the way into the kitchen. It was a small space, cozy even in its slightly outdated decor. Y/N had always thought there was something oddly comforting about the kitchen in Grimmauld Place—it was a place that felt lived in, not cold and sterile like the rest of the house.

     He moved to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of something dark, his fingers brushing over it in a way that suggested familiarity. “How about this?” he asked, turning to her with a raised eyebrow. “A little bit of something to take the edge off without turning us into complete wrecks.”

     Y/N smiled at the offer. “I’ll try it. But I’m holding you to your word—just one drink.”

     “Of course,” he replied smoothly, though there was an edge to his voice now, a quiet sincerity. “I’m not trying to get you drunk, Y/N. I just thought... after everything today, maybe a bit of peace wouldn’t hurt.”

     He poured them both a generous measure of the amber liquid, handing her the glass with a soft smile. She accepted it, their fingers brushing ever so slightly as she took it, and she was suddenly very aware of how close they were. Sirius’s presence always had this magnetic pull on her. Even now, as he leaned back against the counter, watching her with those dark eyes of his, she felt something shift in the air around them.

     “So, what did you think of the meeting?” he asked, his voice low and steady, but she could hear the underlying edge of exhaustion in his words. He was tired. They all were. But Sirius... Sirius had always worn his exhaustion differently. He carried it with a certain grace, a way of making it look effortless when it was anything but.

     Y/N shrugged, taking a small sip of her drink. “It’s the same as always. We talk strategy, we pretend like we know what we’re doing, and we leave with the same uncertainty as when we came in.”

     “Yeah,” Sirius muttered, his eyes darkening as he swirled his drink. “The war doesn’t exactly give us much to work with, does it?”

     Y/N looked at him, her gaze lingering on his face. There was something about the way he said it, like he had seen the world through darker lenses than most. She couldn’t deny that part of her was fascinated by that—by the depth of everything he had been through. And yet, there was always a part of him that seemed so light, so full of life. It was that contrast that both intrigued and unsettled her.

     “I think we’re all just waiting for the next bombshell to drop,” she said softly, her eyes not meeting his. “And in the meantime, we try to keep it together.”

     Sirius watched her closely, his eyes fixed on the movement of her lips as she slowly sipped her drink. His gaze lingered, and for a moment, he forgot about everything—about the weight of the meeting, about the ever-present tension of the war. It was just her, sitting across from him, and the soft glow of the kitchen lights casting shadows across her face. His heart seemed to skip a beat as he noticed the way the soft candlelight made her eyes shine, the way the curve of her lips looked even more inviting with every sip.

     Y/N felt his gaze before she saw it. The weight of his attention pressed on her, as though his eyes were tracing every line of her face, every small movement. It made her heart beat a little faster, a warmth spreading through her chest despite the cool air around them. She looked up over the rim of her glass, meeting his gaze. His dark eyes were soft, but there was a flicker of something deeper, something more intense. Something she hadn’t noticed before—or maybe she had, but had ignored.

     “What is it, Sirius?” she asked, her voice teasing but with a subtle undercurrent of curiosity. “Do I have something on my face?”

     Sirius blinked, caught off guard for a moment. He cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts. But the truth slipped out before he could stop it.

     “No,” he said softly, “just thinking... you’re beautiful.”

     Y/N’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, a small laugh escaping her lips. She set the glass down on the counter and crossed her arms, her gaze locking onto his. “Really?” she said with a playful smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

     Sirius chuckled, though there was a touch of nervousness beneath the laugh. The air between them seemed to shift, the tension thickening, and for a brief moment, he forgot all about the age gap that had kept him at bay for so long. The difference in their years had been a wall in his mind, one he had built to keep things at arm's length. But now, standing here with her, so close, so real, it felt like that wall was crumbling away piece by piece.

     He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and rough. “You know, I’ve been thinking about something for a while, and I’m not sure if I should say it.” His heart was hammering in his chest, the words threatening to spill out before he could stop them. “But... would you want to kiss me?”

     Y/N’s breath caught in her throat at the question. It was so direct, so unguarded. And it was like the entire world seemed to stop for a heartbeat. She blinked, the shock of it mixing with something else—something warmer, something she hadn’t been expecting. She felt her pulse quicken, her eyes flicking to his lips before she caught herself.

     For a moment, she said nothing. Then, slowly, her lips curved into a teasing smile, the spark of mischief flickering in her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I?”

     Sirius didn’t need any more encouragement. The restraint he had held onto for so long—the years of wondering, of doubting—slipped away in that moment. He moved closer, his hands coming up to gently cup her face, and then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers.

The kiss was soft at first, but it wasn’t long before the gentle pressure of his lips grew more urgent, more insistent, as though the need to be close to her had been building for far too long. Y/N responded in kind, her hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she deepened the kiss.

     Sirius let out a soft groan as he felt her pull him closer, her body pressed against his. The intensity of the kiss surged, and he could taste the warmth of the alcohol on her lips, the tang of it mixing with the sweetness of her kiss. His hands roamed to her back, pulling her flush against him, his breath quickening as he kissed her deeper, harder, the world spinning around them.

     “Y/N...” he muttered against her lips, his voice thick with desire. “You’re... heavenly.”

     Y/N’s heart was racing now, her hands tracing the lines of his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt, the heat radiating from his skin. She had never imagined this—never imagined that the distance between them could close so quickly, so completely. But now, with him so close, with his lips on hers, she couldn’t imagine wanting anything else.

     She pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her gaze locked on his. “Sirius...” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, but thick with emotion. “Kiss me again.”

     Sirius didn’t need any more prompting. He kissed her again, this time with a desperation that was new—raw and hungry. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer as he kissed her with a depth that left them both breathless. The kiss was no longer soft. It was passionate, consuming, as though every doubt, every fear, was being kissed away in that one moment.

     He muttered a few curses, his lips trailing down to her neck, tasting the soft skin there. “God, Y/N... you don’t know what you do to me.” His voice was rough, strained, as he nipped gently at her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

     Y/N gasped, her fingers threading through his hair as she tilted her head back to give him better access. His lips were on her neck, hot and insistent, his kisses leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She couldn’t stop herself. She didn’t want to. Every part of her was alive with the sensation of him, the taste of him, the warmth of his body against hers.

     The kiss deepened once more, and without thinking, Sirius picked her up, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pressed her back against the wall. The sudden movement surprised her, but it only made the moment more intense, more real. She gasped, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, and he groaned at the closeness, at the feeling of her body against his.

     His lips moved down her neck, kissing her in slow, deliberate strokes, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered her name. “Y/N...” he murmured again, as though trying to make sure she was still with him, still there. “You’re... perfect.”

     Her heart raced as he kissed her neck, his lips trailing over the sensitive skin there. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. She only knew that she wanted more.

     When their kiss finally broke, both of them panting for air, they slid to the floor. Sirius’s head rested against her shoulder.

     Slowly he sat up, his hands still holding her waist. He looked at her, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of longing and something else—something deeper.

     “I was... worried,” he confessed, his voice low, vulnerable in a way she had never heard before. “Worried about the age difference. About whether you’d... feel the same. It’s always been in the back of my mind.”

     Y/N’s heart softened at his words, and she placed a hand gently on his cheek, brushing her thumb over the stubble there. “Sirius, I don’t care about that,” she said softly. “I’ve never even thought of it.”

     He leaned in to kiss her again, but this time, it was only a soft graze, a reminder of how easily he could lose himself in her.

     “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough with the emotions he could never fully hide. “So damn beautiful, so bloody lovely...” He chuckled softly, a spark of mischief lighting in his eyes. “It’s maddening, really.”

     Y/N’s chest fluttered at his words, at the vulnerability that she could hear in his voice. She leaned in, gently kissing the corner of his mouth, her lips lingering for a moment longer than expected. “I’m really glad you convinced me to stay for a drink,” she whispered, her fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw.

     Sirius’s breath caught at her words, and for a moment, he looked as though he might say something else, but instead, he moved, his hand rested on her leg, a soft touch that conveyed so much more than words could. Then, slowly, he shifted again, lying down with his head in her lap, the two of them surrounded by the quiet of the kitchen.

     He gazed up at her, his eyes filled with a kind of wonder, a touch of awe. “You’re so perfect, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice low and warm. “I can’t believe I’m here with you. I’ve wanted this. Wanted you. For so long.”

     Y/N blushed, a soft smile curling on her lips. She gently ran her fingers through his hair, enjoying the warmth of the moment.

     Sirius let out a breath, as though he’d been holding it for far too long. His lips turned upward in a small, tender smile. And for a long moment, they stayed like that—him lying on her lap, her fingers in his hair, the weight of everything unspoken and everything new hanging between them, untold but not needed.

[moralesluvr]

RE-TAKE | b. eilish.

ꨄ︎ delivering some more teacher!billie for you… <3

you’re halfway out the door when her voice stops you.

it’s a call of your name, laced with an angry and frustrated tone. you freeze, hand tightening on the strap of your bag. the classroom is empty now, the faint sound of footsteps fading down the hall as everyone clears out for the day.

but you’re still here.

you swallow thickly, turning on your heel to face your teacher. her hair that was previously flowing down her shoulders is now placed in a messy bun, her blazer already discarded on the back of her desk chair— now only clad in a white, too-tight button up and a black skirt.

“we need to talk,” miss eilish says, her voice low and steady. her eyes don’t leave you as you start to walk forward, and she tuts at you harshly.

“no, shut the door.”

your skin feels clammy as you shut the door behind you quietly, dropping your bag on the floor and standing next to the doorframe, awkwardly. the air is thick and hot with tension, and you’re even more scared because you already know what this is about.

it’s about the fucking quiz. the one you didn’t even finish because your mind was elsewhere, lost in a maze of thoughts that all seemed to lead back to her. it wasn’t your fault that miss eilish decided to wear tighter dress pants and a flowier, lower-cut top that day. she had looked so pretty, and she still had that hickey on her collarbone that you had given her the night before, that she tried so hard to cover up with that small collar of her polo.

“come here,” billie says, snapping you out of your intrinsic thoughts. your feet move before your brain can catch up, carrying you toward her.

she waits until you’re standing in front of her desk before holding up the paper, “do you want to explain this?”

your eyes drop to the paper, to the bright red “F” scrawled at the top. even her handwriting was angry with you.

your face burns with shame, and you smooth your hands over your own skirt in hopes that it’ll calm you down. “i… i just had an off day,” you mumble, not even daring to meet eyes.

“an off day,” she repeats, her tone laced with amusement. she gives you a cocky, mocking nod, “that’s funny, because it seems like you’ve been having a lot of those lately. why is your shit not together?”

you swallow hard, your hands clenching at your sides. you don’t even dare to respond.

“look at me,” she says, and your heart stutters in your chest.

you lift your eyes, and there it is— that look she always gives you, the one that makes it impossible to breathe. she knows you down to a T, and her eyes are sharp, knowing of you, like you’re her prized possession.

“you really are better than this,” she says softly, leaning forward, her elbows resting on the desk. “i know you are.”

you nod, your throat too tight to speak. you fight for your eyes not to drift down to her exposed cleavage, so you flutter them shut before you make any more mistakes.

“but…” she trails off, tilting her head slightly, a loose strand of her black hair slipping over her shoulder. “i’m not happy with you. the retake date has already passed, so you’re going to have to show me that you want to pass my class.”

the way she’s looking at you, eyes slit and low, nearly makes you fall to the floor that your shoes keep twisting on, anxiety fueling you.

truth is, billie was always so big on not fucking you in school. it just seemed too risky, but today, it was like she couldn’t care less. she was already pulled closer to you now, unbuttoning your cardigan slowly as you gulped.

“what—what does that mean? i thought…” you stammer, but she just continues with undressing you, her smirk deepening.

“you’re my smart girl,” billie says, her voice like honey. she passes you a wink, “i think you’ll figure it out.”

that nearly kills you. your cardigan’s now on the floor, discarded like it’s worth nothing— and it really isn’t worth anything, not in this moment.

billie doesn’t kiss you with the usual softness she gives you, she kisses you like you mean nothing to her, like you’re worthless, like you’re just her pathetic little student who can never pay attention in class.

it’s quick, the way that billie rips your clothes off, propping you up on her desk as she fumbles around in a locked drawer of her desk, pulling out a thicker, longer, harder strap that you’ve never seen in your life.

“what the—?” you speak shyly, half due to confusion and half because there’s no way she’s going to use that on you. but your eyes turn wide as saucers when you see her slip her skirt and panties off, slipping on the strap and fastening it to her liking.

she pulls you by the hips without saying a word, the tip of the faux cock aligned with your entrance as her tattooed hand snakes around your throat, “don’t fucking talk at all, you hear me? you’ve done all the talking you need to in my class, giggling and whispering instead of doing your work. such a slut..”

you wince as the strap stretches your cunt out, your walls stretching to accommodate how fucking big it was. billie starts off slow, but that doesn’t last for long— she slams into you at a brutal pace, your stomach twisting as her hand slaps over your mouth to block your moans.

“shut up.” she seethes in your ear, her free hand kneading at your ass as her grip on your lips tightens, “you wanna get caught? you want someone to come in here and see me fucking you like this?”

you think her question is rhetorical until she slaps the flesh of your thigh, pushing you to answer her. and she lets you, her hand coming off of your mouth so you can mumble quietly, “n-no! please, billie….i’m so sorry…”

your eyes blink away tears as you feel a mix of pain and pleasure erupt in your abdomen, and it almost feels like too much, the way she’s fucking into you so hard. but deep down, you wanted this, wanted her to put you in your place. you wanted to fail that quiz so you could be where you are right now— legs shaking, pussy clenched against her strap. it was so wrong, but it felt so right.

a moan passes through your plump lips, and it makes billie’s frustration with you only worse. it’s like something snaps in her, the pace that she’s fucking you at almost seeming inhumane as your ass collides with her thighs, the sound echoing off of the classroom’s walls.

“such a dirty whore,” billie growls, her lips right against your ear, “know you could do much better in my class, but you’re just so distracted… may have to have a talk with the counselor, hm? do you need to be switched to another teacher?”

“n-no! miss eilish…please, wanna stay with you…wanna stay in your class…” you whine pathetically, and billie chuckles at how desperate you look.

tears find themselves streaming down your cheeks as you feel your orgasm closer and closer, your pussy clenching around the strap sporadically. almost inaudible whines leave your lips as you fight to stay upright, “i-i’m close— m’gonna cum, please, i—“

“cum for me.” billie orders, though her voice still drips honey. her hand snakes between your legs to rub your clit, assisting you through your orgasm as you heave, your cum sticky and hot as it races down the length of billie’s strap and onto her thighs.

billie fucks into you slowly a few more times before pulling out, watching as your cum seeps out of your cunt and onto your clit, glistening in the dim lighting of her classroom. billie gives you a kiss on your back, “good job, my girl— took me so fucking well.”

you thank her through puffy lips and teary eyes, laying on your back on her desk as she flips your paper over, writing a new grade on the front.

A+. Good job. :)

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[little-jana]

"Unspoken"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: heated, no smut, fluffy ending

Warnings: kissing, flirting

Words: 1.1k

Summary: The tension finally snaps...

The air in the room felt heavier than usual, though that could’ve been the exhaustion finally catching up with me. Another late night, another grueling case, and I should’ve been too tired to feel anything but the ache in my bones. But sitting here, across the table from Spencer Reid, exhaustion was the last thing on my mind.

We’d wrapped up the case hours ago, yet neither of us had left the precinct. The others had trickled out one by one, but Spencer and I lingered, tying up loose ends or pretending to. In truth, I wasn’t sure why I stayed—why I always stayed when he was around.

He was typing furiously on his laptop, his hair falling into his eyes in a way that made my fingers itch to brush it back. He always worked like this—laser-focused, utterly absorbed—but tonight, there was something different.

He’d been quieter than usual, his responses clipped, his gaze sharper. I couldn’t figure out if it was the case or something else entirely. But every time his eyes flicked to me, the heat in his stare was enough to make my pulse quicken.

“You’re staring,” he said suddenly, not looking up from his screen. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it that made my breath hitch.

“I’m not,” I lied, though my voice betrayed me.

He glanced at me then, one eyebrow raised in that infuriatingly perceptive way of his. “You are.”

I crossed my arms, trying to look unbothered. “Maybe I’m just waiting for you to finish so we can leave.”

He smirked, a small, barely-there curve of his lips that made my stomach flip. “You could’ve left hours ago.”

“And miss the pleasure of your company?” I shot back, my tone more teasing than I intended.

His smirk grew, and he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Is that what this is? Pleasure?”

My cheeks burned, and I looked away, pretending to be very interested in the file on the table in front of me. “Don’t flatter yourself, Reid.”

“I wasn’t,” he said, his voice softer now, but there was something in it that made me look at him.

His eyes were locked on mine, and the intensity in his gaze made it impossible to breathe. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, and I could feel my resolve slipping with every passing second.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I countered, my own voice shaky.

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t look away either. The tension between us was unbearable, a charged current that neither of us seemed willing to break.

“You do this,” I said finally, my words tumbling out before I could stop them.

“Do what?”

“This,” I said, gesturing between us. “You... stare at me like that. Like you’re waiting for something.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he was going to deny it. But then he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, and the look in his eyes made my heart stop.

“Maybe I am,” he said, his voice low and rough.

The air between us crackled, and I felt my pulse hammering in my ears. “Spencer...”

He stood then, rounding the table in a few quick strides until he was standing right in front of me. I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze, and the heat radiating off him was enough to make my knees weak.

“Say it,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath.

“Say what?” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure I could form a coherent thought, let alone words.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking right now,” he said, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from my face. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a shiver down my spine.

“I...” My voice faltered as his fingers trailed down, brushing against my jaw. “I can’t.”

His eyes softened, but the intensity didn’t waver. “Why not?”

“Because,” I said, swallowing hard. “It’s... it’s not appropriate.”

He smiled then, a slow, wicked curve of his lips that made my breath hitch. “Since when do you care about what’s appropriate?”

“Spencer,” I said again, his name coming out as more of a plea this time.

“Tell me,” he urged, his hand still lingering on my face.

“I...” I hesitated, my mind warring with itself. But then his thumb brushed against my cheek, and the dam inside me broke. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He exhaled sharply, his hand dropping to my waist as he closed the remaining distance between us. “Good,” he murmured, his lips so close to mine that I could feel his breath. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

And then he kissed me.

The world fell away as his lips claimed mine, soft and insistent. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. I gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my knees buckle.

I clung to him, my fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss grew hungrier, more desperate. The tension that had been simmering between us for weeks finally erupted, and it was overwhelming, all-consuming.

When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing hard, and his forehead rested against mine.

“Wow,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

He chuckled softly, his hands still on my waist. “Yeah. Wow.”

I looked up at him, my cheeks flushed, and for the first time, I saw him smile—a real, genuine smile that made my heart skip a beat.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady.

“Me too,” I said, my own voice barely above a whisper.

His smile grew, and he leaned down, pressing another kiss to my lips, softer this time but no less intense.

And in that moment, with his arms around me and his lips on mine, I knew there was no going back.

[honey-on-your-tongue]

FWB

Part 4 Logan Howlett x fem!reader Series masterlist

Logan isn't sure when or how it happened. It just…did.

He wakes up next to you every morning now. He falls asleep next to you every night. It's become routine, part of his day, as natural as if he's always been doing it.

Somehow, falling asleep next to you turns into cuddling, which then turns into late night conversations until you're both too exhausted to keep talking.

And Logan is…happy. He feels lighter, he's got more energy. Suddenly the world isn't the sullen place he always thought it was.

He convinces himself it's the sex. Convinces himself that's what has him in such a good mood. It couldn't possibly be anything else other than the sex.

It's his favorite part of the day now. He looks forward to lying next to you, to listen to you talk about your day. He just focuses on your words, on the sound of your voice, as he gently caresses your skin.

And he shares with you, too. Little, but he shares. He likes the way you pay attention, the way you actually listen to what he has to say. It makes him feel…seen. And it sounds silly, but that's how he feels. That's one of the many things he likes about you.

You're smart, you're sweet, you're funny. He enjoys talking to you so much, that the idea of going somewhere with you and just talking about anything and everything slowly starts to grow in his mind. It takes shape; he thinks of places, of times, of days. And he decides that an afternoon coffee with you would be the most suitable. Now there's only the matter of asking you.

And despite everything you two have done, this has him nervous.

He's antsy and jumpy as he walks up to you one day, hands balled into fists.

“Hey, bub,” he greets casually.

You turn to face him, eyes bright. And you smile and he's lost.

A little voice in the back of his head is insisting that a girl like you would never want him, that you're way out of his league. But he gathers his courage and pushes himself to ask anyway.

“So, I was wondering,” he says, “if you're busy today? In the afternoon?”

“Today? No, I'm not busy,” you reply. He sighs in relief. “Why?” you add curiously.

“I wanted to see if you wanted to go out with me? Like to go get coffee?”

You blink and his heart drops. She's gonna say no.

Is…is he asking me on a date?

You're pretty sure he did. At least that's what it sounded like. But he said it so casually, maybe he just meant it as friends or something?

“Um. Coffee?” you echo, grimacing internally. You sound like an idiot, but you hope Logan doesn't notice.

“Yeah, coffee. Or an ice cream, or…just, anything, really,” he replies, nodding. “I just meant if you wanted to hang out.”

You nod softly. “Well, yeah, it sounds fun,” you reply, smiling.

Logan offers a half grin in return. “Great. We could go into the city and just see where we feel like going,” he says.

You nod. “Yeah, great. So, it's a date.”

His grin widens into a smile. “It's a date.” He nods.

That afternoon, he takes you on his bike to the mall, enjoying the way you hold onto him for life. When you get to the mall and take the helmet off, he grins. Your hair is all messy and you've never looked more beautiful.

“I've got helmet hair, don't I?” you ask, pouting.

He hums gently. “A little,” he responds as he tenderly combs your hair some.

You grumble a bit. “I was all fixed-up and pretty,” you complain.

“You still look as beautiful as ever,” he tells you, studying your face carefully, just taking you in.

A soft blush coats your cheeks and he smiles, tracing your cheekbone with his knuckles softly.

It's almost odd to see Logan be this calm, caring, affectionate. But you're not complaining at all. If anything, you like it. It makes you feel wanted. He makes you feel wanted and safe.

You two walk into the mall together, talking and laughing, and he lets you pick the place. You end up in a cute café, cozy and quiet, sitting close together in a booth in the far corner.

Logan is more open than usual, still somewhat reserved, but he offers you more insight to his thoughts and feelings. He talks and laughs, and you can sense he’s different. Almost as if the weight he always carries on his shoulders is gone. He’s just a man, a happy man on a date with a girl he likes. He’s no longer that tough, hardened, hurt man that’s been hurt by the world to the point of no return.

The conversation flows. It’s natural, easy, and before you know it, it’s been hours of you two sitting in the café and talking. When night falls and it starts getting late, Logan takes you back to the mansion. With most of the mansion asleep, you two walk in quietly and it feels like you’re sneaking back in from somewhere you shouldn’t have been.

It’s not like dating between the X-men is forbidden, just…Logan isn’t the type for that and you understand that.

Logan leads you to his room and locks the door after himself.

She’s beautiful. Just standing there, staring at him with those gorgeous eyes…you’ve got him hooked.

He reaches for you, studying your expression, taking in your scent and the sound of your heart. It’s as if he’s seeing you for the first time. Really seeing you.

You, that puts up with all his bullshit, that stands him and his dumbass, that demands respect, that amazes him, that makes him feel like he’s not a complete monster…

What did he ever do right in his long, fucked-up life that ended with the amazing karmic event of you giving him a chance? What did he ever do to deserve you? He’s not sure, but he’s grateful for whatever good luck has befallen him.

He grabs your hand and gently leads you to his bed, his heart racing.

His heart racing? Is he nervous. Since when is he nervous about sex?

He tries to ignore the thought as he lays you down on the bed. Without a second of hesitance, he kneels in front of you, spreading your legs so he can nuzzle against your thighs. He kisses them softly, one after the other, as he pushes your skirt around your waist. He mouths his way up to your pussy, inhaling her scent through the thin material of your panties. He kisses your mound, his eyes fluttering shut. He just lets himself feel, lets himself do whatever he wants however he wants, focusing on you and wanting to give you everything.

Your breathing grows heavy, your hands move to tangle in his hair. He goes slow, every lick and kiss calculated and measured. There’s no trace of the animal here, no trace of that hunger that seems to take over him more often than not. There’s just…him. It’s just him and you in this moment, together.

He gently tugs your panties off and smiles, glancing up at you. He can see the look in his eyes and he recognizes the affection there. And, for once, it doesn’t scare him, doesn’t send him running off. It makes his heart skip a beat and his stomach flutter.

He eats you out gently, taking his time, just enjoying your taste and the way your body writhes under his mouth.

By the time you’re tugging him away, telling him you can’t take anymore, he’s made you come about three times. Smiling, he undresses and crawls onto the bed on top of you.

This time, there’s no screaming. There’s no headboard slamming into the wall or bed springs squeaking. No crazy positions or choking or spanking.

Logan fucks you slow, deep. His cock reaches every spot in you with a tenderness that takes your breath away.

Every deep thrust is punctuated by a groan from him, his breath hitching as you clench around him. He kisses your neck, mouths at your jaw. His hand caresses your cheek, his eyes on yours as he fucks you.

The gentleness of it, the soft care, the warmth in his gaze…it’s too much.

His fingers touch your clit and rub in soft circles, and it takes nothing to push you over the edge. You tumble, back arching, eyes rolling back. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades, your voice breathy as you whimper into his ear.

“Logan,” you whisper. “Logan.”

And he loses it. You’re not begging for sex. You’re not begging for him to go hard and deep, or for him to relieve you of your stress. You’re begging for more, for the one thing he shouldn’t give you and the one thing he wants to give you.

Your pussy clenches his cock tight as you come and he loses his train of thought. With a shudder and a low moan, he comes in you, spurting his release into your soft cunt. He’d forgotten the condom, but that’s an issue for another day.

He stays where he is, on top of you, and leans his forehead against yours. “Are you okay, bub?” he asks softly, nuzzling his nose with yours.

You nod. “I’m good,” you reply.

He meets your gaze and smiles softly. And, God, the way he’s looking at you…it almost looks as if not only cares about you, but like he could almost, almost…

Love you.

---

a/n: I'm sorry babes!!! I can't believe this took me so long but omg, finals actually kicked my ass and I'm surprised I didn't have a breakdown lol. Buuut, it's finally here. Enjoooooy!!!

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Taglist

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---

Blog masterlist

[777sturn]

𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 | 𝐜hris 𝐬turniolo . . .

(⊹ֹ 𝐢𝐧 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 ) ──── ⟢

❛ you and chris always compete in car races. on and off the tracks you two always clashed heads because of jealousy and envy. the wins would go back and forth between you two and he had enough of it, he wanted the win. so, he finds a way to make you lose. ❜

˖ ࣪⊹ pairing. racer!chris x fem!reader

⊹₊ ⋆ warning(s). smut, mature language, fingering (f receiving), boob play, angst, unprotected rough sex, p in v, degrading (a little)

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ jules’ message. this has been marinating in my drafts since the summer and it was originally supposed to be a matt one shot BUT chris got his license sooo… here it is! also i barely know anything about cars, only the one suki drives in 2f2f so PLEASE bare with me. anywho, STAY FREAKY

it was pretty late at night as you were at the race track. you were currently infront of your hot pink race car, double-checking the engine for the race that was taking place tomorrow. the pink embellishment and the white details perfectly fit your aesthetic. you hum to yourself as you take out the dipstick to check the oil.

suddenly, your peaceful aura was soon interrupted with the familiar revving from none other than chris sturniolo— your enemy on and off the track. you let out a groan and watched as his dark blue porsche pull up beside your car. you could practically see that stupid smirk he always wore through his tinted windows.

you threw your matching pink car towel over your shoulder before crossing your arms and eyeing him down as he stepped out his car. as soon as you see his camo pants, you immediately roll your eyes.

“quit poutin’,” he mumbles in a raspy tone, “save it for tomorrow.”

“i’m gonna be smiling tomorrow, actually.” you correct him, turning back to face your engine. he let’s out a scoff as he steps closer to you and your vehicle.

“you gotta let me win, ma.” he whispers, leaning against the open hood of your car as he watched you inspect the engine, “i just know that there’s gonna be hot chicks in the stands and i wanna show off that bad boy,” he hums, nodding towards the direction of his car.

you give him a look and shake your head, “and i know there’s gonna be the sexiest guys on the planet in the stands too. and my car isn’t the only thing i wanna show off.”

chris rolls his eyes at your snarky comment before his eyes roamed down your body— all the way from your white tube top to your denim skirt that hugged your curves perfectly before dangerously stopping right below your ass. he clicks his tongue before nodding, “aight” he mumbles before moving off your car to stand behind you. “your oil is low.” he hums, reaching over to grab the dipstick from your hand.

“no it’s not.” you mumble, “i literally got it changed last week.”

chris just shrugs and takes the towel off your shoulder— his fingers slightly lingering on your bare skin for a little bit longer than he intended to. he gently dabs the stick on the towel to check the crevices, “it’s low.” he repeats, putting the dipstick back into it’s place, “looks like you’re gonna lose, princess.” he taunts as he swung the towel back on your shoulder before his hands found their way to your waist.

“i’ll be fine.” you huff, as you look up at him, “and i will win.”

“mhm.” he hums nonchalantly, “your car won’t turn on now.” he tests, the stupid smirk returning to his lips.

“says who?” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“me,” he answers, mocking your exact tone. chris then steps away from you before swinging open the driver’s door. he was now met with a baby pink leather interior that coordinated with the design on the exterior of your car, “it looks like a fucking toddler threw up in here.” he mumbles as he slides into the driver’s seat.

you cross your arms as you stand in front of the door, “don’t drive my car.” you mutter.

“i can’t.” he reminds, pressing the button that was supposed to start your car, but nothing happened, “your battery or engine is dead and the oil is low.” he points out, scoffing.

“are you deadass?” you groan in annoyance.

chris nods and smirks as he motions his fingers towards him, gesturing you to come closer to take a look at the bright pink warning symbols yourself. subconsciously, your hand was now planted on his thigh to support yourself so you could see the warning symbols.

he chuckles lowly as his left hand traveled to your ass, gently smacking it, “see. you can’t even compete, baby.”

“i’ll find a way.” you say with determination.

“i won’t let you,” he mumbles, pulling you into his lap fully. you were now face to face as you straddled him, “so fuckin’ stubborn—just give up, ma.”

you could feel chris harden beneath you as you adjust yourself, his cock slightly brushing against your now wet panties, “i’m not gonna be the loser for this race, chris.” you say, your voice slightly shaky.

he groaned in annoyance as he threw his head against the pink headrest. both of his hands trailed up and down your thighs, occasionally his fingers teasing the sexy lace of your underwear. your eyes dart to his adams apple, bobbing ever -so-slightly as his fingers inched closer to your core.

he delicately brushed his ring and middle finger against your clothed clit, “let me win, baby.” he whispers once more, as he meets your wetness seeping through, “damn. is this what it takes?” he scoffs, teasing you some more. a soft whimper escapes your glossed lips in response.

“stay quiet f’me,” he mutters, “let me figure that out myself, yeah?” he finally slipped both of his fingers into your panties, humming in approval as he feels the soft skin of your pussy. he pushed one finger at a time into your wet folds in a dangerously slow manner.

“fuck…” you breathe out, leaning your back against the steering wheel— the pink embellishment of the honda logo pressed into your back, creating an indent through your top. another moan came out as you felt him curl his fingers inside you before pumping in a deliberate and sensual motion, “you’re so fuckin’…” you trail off, completely melting in his arms.

“so fuckin’ what?” chris teases, the pace of his pumping began to quicken , “so fuckin’ right? ‘cause yeah, i am.” he mumbles, dipping his head into the crook of your neck to leave hot and open mouthed kisses on your cold skin.

chris was feeding into your soft moans and whimpers, biting and sucking on your neck in response to the noises. his other hand slipped under your tube top to meet your bare chest. he hummed against your neck, the vibrations sending a shiver down your spine before roughly grazing his thumb on your hardened nipple.

“please chris…” you whine, as his forefinger and thumb rolled and pinched the sensitive skin of your breast. your head was thrown back as you bucked your hips against his slender fingers before subconsciously grinding on them— basically pleading for more, “i’m gonna cum.”

“holy shit.” he scoffs at your desperation and the arousal that coated his fingers. he then slowly removedhis fingers from inside you and brought them into his own mouth, “christ. you taste like a fucking loser.” he shakes his head, pinching your nipple once more.

“shut the fuck… up.” you say breathlessly, before beginning to roll your hips against his hard and throbbing cock.

“geez ma,” he groans, “i didn’t expect for you to basically be begging for my dick.” he then unzips his camo pants and pulled down his boxers— his rockhard dick sprung out.

you didn’t hesistate one bit, you slipped off your panties with the help of chris as your freshly done nails dug into chris’ back, “so desperate, it’s pathetic.” he mumbles as he began to fuck you while you sat on his lap, “you’re gonna take it raw, baby.” he groaned.

you gasp as you felt his length slip through your wet and already sore folds. you bounced up and down on his cock, needily while the grip on his disheveled hair tightened, “you’re gonna let me win now huh?” chris moaned, his hands squeezing your ass in response to your hands tugging at his hair.

“fine—” you whine, “i don’t care anymore… just please. fuck…”

he throws his head back once more, a tired smirk played at his lips, “that’s what i thought. i’m winning that shit fair and swear, baby.”

© 777sturn

[pinkaditty]

Holidays with Ghouls (Sho Haizono x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

please read:

okay. big news + life update: i got into a major car accident a little while ago. my first one ever! i am in a lot of pain so things may be slow-going for a while and ill be unable to commit as much time to writing due to the tangled mess that is dealing with modern insurance companies and recovering from my injuries. thankfully its not so bad to be hospitalized, but its bad enough to limit my activity for the time being. i am somewhat ashamed to ask, but if you like my writing, please consider donating to my cashapp: $cindyfromstarbucks! my car was 100% totaled, and im gonna need to save up for a new one, and my job doesn’t pay very much. thank you for your consideration! please enjoy, regardless! (this paragraph will be on my posts indefinitely, probably until i fully recover)

a/n: LET ME START THIS OFF BY SAYING IT’S ENTIRELY SELF-INDULGENT… i have a green thumb and i’ve been growing a small garden lately (limited space. i hate captialism.) and i just thought “hm. what if we grew fresh ingredients for sho’s food truck?” and the idea stuck and didn’t leave no matter how much i tried 2 shake it off. mc is basically written as me im not gonna hold y’all, but i kept it 2 a minimum so it could still be an ‘x reader’. 

summary: self-indulgent reader x sho. in which you do something nice for him and he struggles to return the favor. 

no cw! enjoy!

big fan of the “woman that is so wound up all the time and extremely professional and tries to keep everyone at arm’s length distance” x “guy that is only a few years younger than the woman but loves calling her by age-appropriate honorifics (i.e. noona, ojou, jiejie, madame, etc) and goes out of his way to teach her how to fucking relax every once in a while” trope and essentially if i were with sho that is how the relationship would go LMFAOOOOOOO

You used to have a bit of a garden before becoming a student at Darkwick. A part of you often wondered if there were people tending to your garden now so you could return to it, well kept and exactly as you remember it, when you were cured of this curse and got this anomalous ring off of you. You'd never really had the idea to plant anything here; you were much too focused on missions and other incessant errands the ghouls saw fit to send you on. You didn't like it, but held your tongue regardless. If all went well, you wouldn't have to deal with this after less than a year. 

You were fond of a few ghouls, though. Some of them were a nice reprieve from the other harsher and more selfish ghouls. Haku was a great example of that, and so was Subaru, his dorm's captain. You'd grown fond on the Jabberwock ghouls, as they were always kind and polite. You didn't really mind the Obscuary ghouls, either. Even if odd, they were good natured, and never turned you away. You appreciated that Rui had a bit of a green thumb too, and would often stop by to assist him with plant care. 

The one ghoul you were the most fond of, despite his less than agreeable best friend, was Haizono, or Sho, as he insisted on being called. Sho, despite his friend Leo, was actually pretty friendly. You enjoyed the time you spent around him, whether that was collecting supplies from the diner, or training with him, or even helping him meal prep for the following day for his food truck. It was fun, spending time with Sho. You're almost angry the idea didn't dawn on you sooner.

Said idea is why you carefully sift through the dirt in your compost container, careful not to split any of the worms with your nails. The potatoes should be done growing by now. The idea had dawned on you one day when Sho mentioned not having enough potatoes to serve fries the following day. Potatoes were an easy crop. And they took three months, at most, to grow. Sure, if worse came to worst, you'd die, but growing potatoes was a good distraction and encouraged you to plan for the future, as though you wouldn't die. After a few favors from Benji and some begging towards the chancellor, you had a small garden behind the chapel. Granted, you'd just started it three months ago, so it wasn't as full as your garden back home, but it was good enough. It was hidden from the rest of campus by the surrounding trees, ensuring no one would find the garden unless they had reason to cut around the chapel, which wasn't necessary considering the path out front. Not only did it serve as your little place of respite, it allowed you to do nice things for others. You were just growing potatoes for now, but it felt like enough of a starter, at least. You’d just planted some tomato seeds that you’d hoped Sho would also find a use for. 

Once done harvesting a substantial batch of potatoes, you wrap them up in plastic bags to look like you bought them. It would save you the embarrassment of having to explain that you’d grown them yourself. 

It’s pleasantly chilly outside, the still afternoon air heavy with promises of cold weather and a white winter holiday. Dirt remained underneath your fingernails from all that harvesting, but it was a small price to pay. Your heart pounded with anticipation and exertion as you made the trek to Vagastrom, heading for the nearby food truck. As expected, you find Sho sitting on one of his supply boxes, far underdressed for the cold weather. You can’t tell if he’s resistant to it or rebelling against it, but you can tell he’s cold. His cheeks and nose are tinged red and his eyes are squinted against the cold wind. You can even tell he’s sniffling with how often he inhales. You exhale both fondly and exasperatedly. The stubbornness of these ghouls was simultaneously attractive and irritating. 

You make it no secret you’re approaching, the bag of potatoes crinkling with your upbeat steps and your own runny nose sniffling in response to the cold wind. You place the bag of potatoes beside him with a heavy ‘thud’, to which he finally looks up, appearing jolted out of his thoughts. 

“Here,” you start, taking your scarf from around your neck and tying it around his without waiting for a reaction. “You must be an idiot to sit out in the cold with just your uniform on.”

“Senpai.” He greets you with wide eyes, watching but not protesting as you tie your scarf around his neck. He appears confused at first, his lips pursing at your actions, but seems to relent as he buries his face into the scarf. You watch as he settles into it, his eyes sliding shut against the cold wind, his nose and lips finding warm solace in the comfort of your scarf. Before long, he pulls it away, revealing himself back to the chilly air with a slight wince. “...No need. Thank you, though.” He glances up at you with a smile before rising to his feet and dusting off his knees. “Whatcha got here?” He gestures to the plastic bag before picking it up, far more effortlessly than you, and inspecting it. 

“Potatoes.” Your breath puffs out in a white cloud. “They’re for your food truck. I remembered you mentioned you were running low, so… I decided to help and buy you some.” At some point, you’d shifted your attention to the ground, toeing at a rock as you realized how ridiculous that sounded. Surely Sho could handle himself. He might even find your help embarrassing, when you really think about it. 

You sneak a glance at him and are relieved to see a small smile on his face as he observes the potatoes. He huffs out a light breath, his face visibly softening. “You didn’t have to do that.” He slings the bag over his shoulder, using his other hand to ruffle your hair and return the scarf. “Come on,” he turns around, headed for the door of the food truck. “You can help me prep.”

‘That’s only helpful if you’ll have any customers in this cold,’ you think to yourself, but decide not to say aloud. Instead, you watch the slow smile on his face as he nods towards you, and continues towards the truck. Crazy, how a simple glance of his could make your heart race. Something about the warmth of his smile, the feel of his fingers carding through your hair, and the leftover scent of his cologne lingering on your scarf tugged at your heart, just a little bit. 

You briskly follow after him, throwing the scarf back over his neck. “Keep it,” you say sternly, watching as he turns to you quizzically. “Have you seen the state of yourself in this cold?” The phrase ‘I want you to have it,’ lingers on your tongue, but you decide not to voice that, instead letting a small amused smile rest on your face. You vaguely gesture to him, your gaze flicking to his red cheeks and nose. He rolls his eyes, noting your point, and keeps the scarf around his neck, opening the side door to his food truck.

“Alright, fine. I’ll wash it and return it.”

As he steps inside the food truck, even from standing behind him you feel a wave of warmth. You follow, stepping inside, feeling the sweet relief of pleasant warm air and smelling the scent of roast chicken. The environment is warm and cozy, wrapping around you like a cushy blanket or a hug from a loved one. Sho closes the door behind you and you note your scarf is still around his neck. Something clicks.

“Wait a minute. You won’t need that.” You point to his scarf, your nose crinkling in mock displeasure. He instinctively flinches away, looking at you with a raised brow. He was seemingly already protective of your scarf, even though he’d only just received it. “Hand it over.”

“That’s hardly fair.” A crooked smile forms on Sho’s face and his brow raises higher. “Why do you assume I won’t need it?”

Indignantly, you gesture to the warm space surrounding you. Sizzling meat, a warm oven, and heaters in a corner, adjusting the temperature of the truck. “Vagastrom is literally right next to here. What do you need that for?”

He doesn’t answer directly, instead tilting his head at you. “I seem to remember a certain someone insisting I keep this scarf. Are you going to go back on your word?”

You clamp your mouth shut, remembering what you’d said and did earlier. He was right, you had insisted, even if only a little. You huff out a frustrated breath, crossing your arms and furrowing your brows. He laughs at your display, pulling the scarf off of him and tossing it on a high shelf of boxes you couldn’t reach. “Like I said, I’ll wash it and return it.”

You decide to swallow this loss. You had other scarves at the chapel anyway, and if he was going to use it, at least it wasn’t going to waste. 

You look around the space again before taking off your coat and hanging it on one of the hooks on the door. “Any plans for winter break? Will you be going anywhere?” 

“Nah.” Sho shook his head, checking on the chicken in the small oven before continuing to stir fry a vegetable medley on the stove, jutting his shoulder out towards the cutting board, covered in various vegetables. You wash your hands before heading over, carefully scraping at the dirt built up under your fingernails from digging. “Unless my… brother… goes, I’m not going. He’ll beat my ass if I don’t and he does.” A look of displeasure crosses Sho’s face, and you have to hold back a laugh at the thought of Professor Hyde chastising Sho for not seeing his family over break. 

You head over to the vegetables laid out on the cutting board, and start with the garlic, peeling it out of its husk. “Sounds like a struggle.”

He scoffs, pouring soy sauce over the vegetables and tossing them before scraping them off on a nearby to-go container. “Holidays are always a struggle with pushy family.” Despite his outward scowl, amusement lights up his eyes for a moment. 

You chuckle, having finished chopping up the garlic and moving to a green bell pepper. You slice it open, its seeds spilling onto the cutting board. “Your family’s pushy?”

“Yes, too pushy sometimes.” Sho shakes his head, shooing you to the side as he grabs potholders to pull the chicken out of the oven. “My brother’s more like my parents than I am.” He carefully places the roast chicken down on a short counter. It’s golden brown, stuffed with rosemary sprigs, lemon slices, and garlic cloves. 

He places it to the side, readying the frying pain and reaching for the peppers you’d chopped, tossing them into the oil. You finish a pepper and reach for a leek next, slicing it into thick chunks. Your eyes flicker back over to the chicken momentarily, rosemary stems sticking out of it like a tail. “The rosemary stems look like a chicken tail.” You voice the thought absentmindedly, smiling to yourself. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sho glance over at the chicken himself. You hear a huffed laugh as he returns his attention to the peppers, sizzling in the oil. “Yeah, it does.” He’s silent for a moment before speaking up again. “Speaking of, it was hard to find fresh rosemary this time around.”

You look up, having finished cutting the leek. A confused expression crosses your face. “Where in the world would you find fresh rosemary in the dead of winter?” You look away, reaching for a carrot, slicing it thinly.

“Rosemary’s an evergreen,” Sho states flatly, reaching for the leek and garlic you cut earlier, mixing it in with the batch of peppers on the stove and stirring them. “You can find that fresh anytime. What’s harder to find, however…” Sho trails off, leaving the stove for a split second, reaching for the bag of your potatoes he’d placed on the ground earlier. He opens the bag and pulls one out, some dirt still stuck in the indents of its skin. “...Is fresh potatoes. They’re typically harvested in the fall.” He smiles at you, before turning away to rinse it off.

Realizing you’d been caught in a lie, you turn away from him, putting all of your focus on the carrot in front of you. You hear his footsteps slowly approaching before he places a freshly washed potato right in front of you, his hand shaking with mirth. 

“Come on, MC. Don’t think I didn’t notice the dirt under your fingernails.” He chuckles before turning back to the stove, stirring the vegetables again. You drop the knife with a clatter and hide your hands behind your back, too nervous to check if you’d missed any spots. 

You sneak a glance up at him, mistakenly making eye contact with him. His eyes gleam with amusement and his smile is soft and fond. “...It can’t have been that obvious.” You decide to admit to it, realizing the heat in your cheeks probably gave it away. 

“It wasn’t.” Sho nods to you, pouring soy sauce over the stir-fried mixture and tossing it before scraping that off in a different to-go container. “I just happened to notice the dirt when you handed the scarf to me, and your potatoes smelled extra earthy.” He takes the pan off the heat, moving over to the chicken and carefully cutting out the breast. 

It’s silent for a few moments, you staring at that freshly cleaned potato and Sho slicing through the chicken, placing the breast in one to-go container and the wings in the other. Sho finally speaks up, though his voice is low. “...You didn’t have to do that, you know.” You look up again, just to find him turned away from you, his ears turning red. Silence falls again as you watch him check off the to-go containers he’s finished. You assume he’s trying to distract himself from the obvious blush on his face, but you can’t say for sure. Something about it makes you feel similar, your heart rate picking up and your face reddening more. It wasn’t due to your embarrassment anymore. “I dunno, I’m bad at thanking people. Just, well…” Sho trails off, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, hiding his face from you. His voice lowers significantly, and contrastingly, the blush on his ears brightens more. “Thank you. I know potatoes take a while to grow. And…” He trails off again and swallows thickly. You don’t bother asking him to finish his sentence. The implications of his words grow somewhat heavy in your heart, and you wring your fingers nervously. Of course it was profound, growing potatoes for someone when you’re doomed to die, now in nine months. The thought of dedicating your time to anything that wasn’t curing your curse was odd, but this distraction had done you well nonetheless. You didn’t want Sho to feel bad about it at all. You were certain that, if anything, the gravity of being recognized by a girl doomed to die was dawning on him. 

The words spill out before you can really stop them. “Don’t worry about it, Sho. I did that because I wanted to.” Confessing this was almost as raw as confessing your feelings, and your chest tightens at that thought, but you continue despite that. “You’ve been kind to me since after our first mission. And I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, including things as mundane as meal prep!” You gesture vaguely to the setting before you, hoping to get your point across. “I just randomly had the idea, and figured it couldn’t be so bad to act on it. It’s been a good distraction anyway, and what with all that happens here, a distraction does me some good.” Silence falls once more, and Sho finally turns to look at you, face flushed. He wipes his palms on his apron and worries his lip between his teeth, his gaze flickering between you and the floor. “...So what if I used up three months to grow potatoes? The time will pass anyways.” You turn away from him, looking at the washed potato. You reach for it and pick up the knife, beginning to cut it into cube chunks. 

“...I guess you’re right.” You can hear a gentle smile in Sho’s voice, and it warms you up internally, feeling thankful he’s accepted the gift. You glance towards him, giving him a smile, and catch him staring. There’s an odd glimpse of admiration in his eyes, which makes your cheeks warm.

“Go on and finish cutting the chicken.” You wave off his stare and jerk your gaze away from him, hiding your blush and focusing on the cubed potato. 

He scoffs and turns away, picking up his knife. “Giving me orders in my own kitchen, huh?” 

You don’t respond. You don’t need to. The warmth of the heaters settles into your skin and the warmth of the previous pleasant conversation settles into your heart. You glance down at the bag of potatoes that started it all. The eyes of the potatoes seem to stare up at you knowingly.

You’re carrying a short stack of to-go containers outside to Sho’s bike, Bonnie, your boots crunching the frosty path beneath you. Snow would surely be coming soon. You gently place the stack in the box on the back of Bonnie, careful to make sure none of them tip over. You hear more crunching footsteps and turn around to see Sho, carrying the rest of the boxes. He places them in the box as well and organizes them before securing the box with a few straps. He steps back and exhales, smiling to himself. You can’t help but smile at his pride.

“Now, to deliver these…” Sho approaches Bonnie and gets on, patting her twice affectionately. The gentle thrum of the engine comes to life in response. He looks to you and smiles, and you notice he’s wearing your scarf. “Sure you don’t want a ride back to the chapel?”

You eye the box of food already on the back of Bonnie and shake your head. You wouldn’t test fate today. Your eyes find your scarf again, sitting snugly around Sho’s neck. “Well, at least you have a use for it.” You say, resigned. Part of you wonders if you’ll ever get it back. 

Sho smiles, reaching up to touch the scarf. “Again, I’ll wash and return it.” He looks up to the sky, and you follow suit, noting the pale white blanket of clouds blocking the sun. “That said…” He starts, lowering his gaze to you again. “It is cold out. I may need this for longer than I expected.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice and his smile turns crooked, as though suppressing a smirk. 

“...I’m not getting that back, am I?”

Sho shrugs, revving up Bonnie. “Who knows?” He smiles fondly at you one last time before speeding off, the wheels of Bonnie leaving tire tracks on the frosty path. You watch him as he leaves, his hair lifting in the wind, the tendrils of your scarf billowing behind him. You watch until he turns a corner and you can only faintly hear the rumbling of Bonnie’s engine. ‘I guess he really did have customers, even in this cold…’ You think to yourself, a faint smile growing on your face. You inhale the crisp cool air, feeling a bit cooler around your neck now that you’re missing a scarf. You idly look back up at the sky again, wondering if it really would snow today. Despite you enjoying the stillness of the winter air on Darkwick campus, the cold eventually bites at you, urging you to return to the chapel. Your footsteps crunch along the frosted path, following Bonnie’s tracks.

It’s Christmas evening, and things are finally winding down for the day. You’d been to Frostheim and made snow angels with Luca and Kaito, had coffee and played chess with Tohma, and Jin, despite himself, hadn’t asked you to run any errands for him today. You’d been to Vagastrom and exchanged gifts with Alan, tolerated Leo’s selfies with you, and looked around for Sho, but hadn’t found him. You’d been to Jabberwock and fed the animals with Haru, watched a romance movie with Towa, and played a holiday-themed horror game with Ren. You’d been to Sinostra and done some gambling with Taiga while Ritsu tagged along to ensure Sinostra’s reputation wasn’t damaged further, and had a surprisingly pleasant conversation with Romeo despite him saying your large coat made you resemble a slug. You’d been to Hotarubi and had tea and holiday sweets with Haku, Subaru, Zenji, and Lyca, who was visiting Subaru. You’d been to Obscuary and had Rui’s new holiday-themed drinks with Ed, chattering time away at the bar. You’d been to Mortkranken and reluctantly exchanged gifts with Yuri, aware of the fit he’d throw if you hadn’t gotten him anything, and pleasantly exchanged gifts with Jiro, reminding him to take good care of himself. 

Finally, after a very long, exhausting, and eventful day, you were back at the chapel, counting the vines growing under your skin, glowing lavender like the flower on the back of your neck. Some small flowers broke your skin and bloomed here and there, leaving the exit wounds somewhat inflamed. Granted, you didn’t have much time left, and these vines made that clear, but this holiday had been much better than you’d expected it to be. You appreciated the effort most of the ghouls put forth to make this holiday at least somewhat enjoyable for you, especially considering it may be your last. 

You sit by the fireplace in your room, watching the snow fall from the sky through your window. You had a tiny pine tree near your bed, decorated with handmade tinsel from the three Hotarubi ghouls and some small ornaments from Jin. You wore new pajamas from Romeo, though you weren’t sure how in the world he knew your size. You had a new bracelet from Taiga, who had originally forgotten who he’d gotten it for. On your nightstand lay a dreidel from Kaito and a snow globe from Luca. The hot chocolate you sipped on was a gift from Tohma, and some wine awaited you in your fridge, a gift from the Obscuary ghouls. You had a few new ugly holiday sweaters from various ghouls, Yuri and Ren included, and some not-so-ugly ones, thanks to Haru and Towa. A thick, heavy book about the origins of the laws of Japan sat on a nearby table, a gift from Ritsu that you had no plans to read. You had lit a scented candle from Leo, which you thought was surprisingly thoughtful, and had set aside the wax melts from Alan, planning to use them after the candle ran out. The new watch from Jiro was wrapped around your wrist, displaying the increasingly late time. In all of this, you wondered where your gift from Sho was. You hadn’t been able to spot him today, and the thought made you feel a little down. You’d wanted to spend some time with him today, but guessed he was probably too busy preparing Christmas dinner for all of Vagastrom and Hotarubi that he simply hadn’t had the time. You set your hot chocolate down on top of the accursed thick book and sprawl out in your chair, turning to the window again. Regardless, this had been a surprisingly wonderful holiday. The ghouls had given you gifts and willingly spent time with you, doing various fun activities and filling you with holiday cheer. It was a nice escape from the reality of your situation, even if it was only for a little while. 

You check the vines under your skin again, resisting the urge to scratch at where a new white flower had bloomed near your elbow. You could feel that, soon after the holiday season mellowed down, it would be back to reality, and you’d have to face your own death once again. Part of you dreaded the eventual change in weather and in the length of days, knowing your predicted end was growing near. But a part of you was also resigned to it. Regardless of whether you were due to die soon or not, this had been a nice holiday. And you could stand to live in the now, just this once. 

You carefully pluck the flower from your skin, wincing at the sharp pain. You bleed for only a few moments before it clots up. At least you could stave off the growth of the curse for now. 

You hear a gentle knock at your door. Physically, you’re too exhausted to have much more fun at this point, but mentally, you could use a pick-me-up. You head down your stairs towards the door, opening it crack by crack, trying to prevent too much of the cold wind from slipping inside. You peer through the open doorway, jolting in surprise when a familiar pair of dark blue eyes meet yours. 

“Hey,” Sho starts, lifting two boxes in his hands. “Thought you could use a warm holiday dinner.”

Your heart swells and all at once, a wave of emotion hits you. Sure, you didn’t have much time left, but that didn’t stop these ghouls from caring, and that was evident in the gifts piled up in your room, the fun you’d had all throughout the day, and the ghoul now standing at your doorstep, seeking more time with you. There was a reason he was your favorite. 

You swing the door open wider, unable to hide the smile that breaks across your face all at once. “I was looking for you, you know.” You cross your arms and narrow your eyes in mock disappointment. “Where’ve you been all day?”

“Cooking.” Sho lifts a brow and shrugs, tilting his head at you. He smiles fondly at you, and you notice he’s finally dressed appropriately for the season; a hat covering most of his hair, a matching coat and gloves keeping him warm, and your scarf, tucked snugly against his neck inside his coat. Yet again, you realize you are probably never getting that scarf back. 

“That scarf is still mine.” You gesture at his scarf, and he laughs, reaching up to brush the built up snow off of it. 

“And I’m still using it.” He replies, smiling wider. “So… Gonna let me in or what? It’s cold out here.” His breath puffs into white clouds, and you notice his cheeks and nose are tinged red again thanks to the cold. You smile and step aside, letting him in. 

You close the door behind him and he shakes off the snow built up on his coat. When he looks at you, his smile holds the warmth of a thousand candles and his voice holds the joy of a thousand holiday carols. “So… got any mistletoe? If not, we can start with gifts. Either works for me.” A blush covers his face as he pushes the boxes towards you, his smile growing wider and fonder.

You figure, regardless of how much time you have left, it wouldn’t hurt to spend a holiday with your favorite ghoul.

Bonus:

The gift, wrapped surprisingly delicately inside one of the boxes, is a knitted scarf in your favorite colors. It’s not bad, but you can tell it was done by a beginner. Holding it in your hands, a small smile grows on your face, and you sigh, totally resigned. 

By god, you are never getting that scarf back. 

“Well, thank you for your collateral replacement, but I expect that scarf back one day.”

Sho shakes his head, smiling as he chews on your shared meal, packed in the other box he was carrying. “No can do. It’s still cold and I still need a scarf.”

“I’m withholding the mistletoe, then.”

Sho huffs, rolling his eyes and continuing the meal. At his lack of a reaction, you purse your lips, thinking of another thing to withhold that might gift you a victory. Sho speaks, having swallowed his mouthful, “I can find other reasons to kiss you-”

“I’m withholding the potatoes.”

Sho looks at you in shock, dropping his forkful back onto his plate. “...I’ll think about it.”

Maybe you would get that scarf back, after all.

----------

a/n: it's done. finally it is done. finally! i've been writing this romance fic 4 a long while so im glad it is finally done

thank you all so much for reading!! as usual, i love likes, but especially comments, reblogs, and asks detailing how much you enjoyed my work!!! please feel free 2 fill up my inbox with whatever, i love talking 2 u all! but be warned my responses will be slow... im still recovering!

happy holidays 2 you all! i hope, whether you're surrounded by family, friends, or by yourself, that it's a wonderful and fulfilling holiday season 4 u. merry christmas 2 those who celebrate, and happy kwanzaa 2 those who celebrate that as well!! not very well versed in other winter holidays, but may they be joyous and merry!

[amalythea]

「 secret santa 」

⤷ info: diluc, wanderer x gn! reader (separate) || fluff and hurt/comfort || wc: 1564 (total)

⤷ warnings: oblivious reader (and diluc himself tbh), wanderer is,,, himself? brief mentions of reader being hurt but not too many details. half the time i write for genshin i dont care to match flower names into canon ones, this is one of those times and you guys just need to deal with it/lh wanderer's part is shorter bc i didn't know how to continue it.

⤷ extra: This is my gift to @daosies for @2024gisecretsanta 's secret santa event! Hope these are okay, haha i was gonna post this on christmas morning but i got impatient.

diluc.

The warm hues of the Mondstadt sunset cast a golden glow over the familiar stretch of rolling vineyards. You sat cross-legged under the towering oak tree by the edge of the Dawn Winery estate, twirling a small daisy between your fingers. Diluc sat a little distance away, leaning back against the bark of the tree. The setting sun framed his fiery red hair like an ember glowing in the dusk, and his sharp, focused eyes stared out at the horizon.

“You’re quiet today,” you said, breaking the silence.

He hummed in acknowledgment, tilting his head slightly to look at you. “Just thinking.”

“You always say that,” you teased, tossing the daisy at him. It landed on his lap, and he looked down at it with the faintest smile.

“Because it’s true,” he replied, lifting the flower and twirling it between his fingers the way you had been moments ago.

You shifted to lie back on the grass, staring up at the sky now painted in shades of pink and orange. “What’s got you so deep in thought?”

There was a pause, long enough that you almost thought he wouldn’t answer.

“...You,” he admitted softly.

You turned your head sharply to look at him, heart skipping a beat. “What about me?”

Diluc avoided your gaze, looking at the daisy instead as if it held all the answers. His usually confident demeanor faltered, replaced with an unfamiliar shyness.

“Just… how long we’ve been friends,” he said after a moment, his voice measured. “How much you’ve always been there.”

“Of course,” you said, trying to sound casual despite the sudden flutter in your chest. “That’s what friends are for.”

Friends. The word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meanings. You wanted to say more, to ask if he ever thought about you the way you thought about him. But instead, you sat up and plucked another flower from the ground, holding it out to him with a playful smile.

“Here, another daisy for your collection,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

He took it, his fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting moment that made your pulse quicken. “You’re strange sometimes, you know that?”

“You’re the one keeping them,” you shot back, grinning.

“I only keep what’s worth keeping,” he replied, his voice soft but steady, his crimson eyes locking onto yours.

The weight of his gaze made your teasing smile falter. For a moment, it felt like the world had gone still—no rustling leaves, no distant chirping of birds, just the two of you under the fading light.

“Diluc…” you began, but you didn’t know how to finish.

He looked away first, his ears tinged red. “It’s getting late. I should walk you home.”

Your heart sank at the abrupt shift, but you nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As the two of you walked back toward Mondstadt, the silence was comfortable, yet filled with the words neither of you dared to say. You stole glances at him, wondering if he could hear the rapid thrum of your heart.

And as Diluc walked beside you, his hand brushing against yours ever so slightly, he wondered the same thing.

Days turned into weeks, and the memory of that sunset evening lingered like a half-forgotten dream. Every shared glance with Diluc made your heart race, every accidental brush of his hand left you aching for more, but neither of you said anything.

You told yourself it was for the best. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if confessing ruined the years of friendship you cherished so much?

But your heart had other plans.

It was another quiet evening at the Dawn Winery, this time in the cozy warmth of the study. The crackling of the fireplace filled the room, casting dancing shadows on the walls. You sat in the armchair across from Diluc, clutching a cup of tea he had prepared.

“I’m surprised you had time for this,” you said, trying to keep your voice light. “Doesn’t Master Diluc always have work to do?”

He glanced at you over the rim of his cup, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I can make time for important things.”

You nearly choked on your tea, heart skipping a beat. Was that a compliment? Did he mean you? Shaking your head, you forced yourself to focus on the fire instead of his piercing crimson eyes.

But the moment wouldn’t let you go.

“Diluc,” you said softly, almost without thinking.

He hummed in response, setting his cup down. “What is it?”

Your grip tightened on the porcelain, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them. “I think I love you.”

The weight of your confession crashed into you like a thunderclap. Your eyes widened in panic, your breath catching in your throat as you realized what you’d just said.

“I-I mean—forget I said that!” you stammered, setting the cup down hastily and waving your hands as though you could physically take the words back. “I didn’t mean it, or—no, I did, but not like that, or maybe I did—Oh Archons, just forget it! Please, forget it!”

Diluc blinked, stunned for a moment. Then, to your utter shock, a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

“Why are you laughing?!” you exclaimed, burying your face in your hands.

“I’m laughing,” he said, his voice warm and full of something you couldn’t quite place, “because you’ve just made this much easier for me.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, confused. “What… what do you mean?”

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze soft but unwavering. “I’ve felt the same way about you for a long time.”

You froze, the world tilting on its axis. “You’re joking,” you said flatly, shaking your head. “You’re not serious.”

“Do I look like someone who would joke about this?” he asked, raising a brow.

You hesitated, searching his face for any hint of insincerity, but all you saw was quiet certainty. “You… really mean it?”

Instead of answering with words, Diluc closed the distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek gently, giving you plenty of time to pull away, but you didn’t. His lips pressed against yours, soft and sure, like a promise made in silence.

The kiss stole the breath from your lungs, and when he finally pulled back, your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“Does that convince you?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.

You could only nod, too overwhelmed to form words.

He smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made your chest feel impossibly warm. “Good,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Because I don’t plan on letting you forget it.”

wanderer.

The sharp scent of antiseptic stings your nose as Wanderer kneels in front of you, his deft hands busy cleaning the gash on your arm. His touch is precise and gentle, yet his words sting more than the wound ever could.

"Do you have any idea how reckless you are? You’re a complete idiot, you know that?" His indigo eyes bore into yours, sharp as a blade, but there's something softer hidden behind his glare. "What were you thinking, throwing yourself into danger like that?"

"I was trying to help," you mutter weakly, unable to meet his gaze.

"Help?" His voice rises, then falls into a low, simmering growl. "You call this helping? Getting yourself hurt like this? You could have—" He cuts himself off, a rare flicker of vulnerability breaking through his irritation.

He sighs, exasperated, and reaches for the bandages. "Hold still," he orders.

The bandage feels cool against your skin as he carefully wraps it around your arm, his hands so steady and gentle that you almost forget the scolding. His fingers brush over your skin with deliberate tenderness, and the contrast between his harsh tone and his delicate touch is almost dizzying.

"You’re so infuriating," he mutters, shaking his head. "Why do you always make me worry like this? It’s like you’re trying to give me a heart attack—if I even had one." His lips twitch into a smirk at his own sarcasm, but the worry behind his words is unmistakable.

"I'm sorry," you say softly, daring to glance up at him.

He pauses, his hands stilling as his eyes meet yours. For a moment, the air is thick with unspoken emotions. Then, with a sigh, he leans in, his forehead briefly pressing against yours. "You really are an idiot," he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost affectionate.

Before you can respond, he tilts your chin up and presses a kiss to your lips. It's firm, lingering, and filled with a quiet desperation that he’d never put into words.

When he pulls away, his glare returns, but it’s less convincing now. "Don’t think this means I’ve forgiven you. Next time, stay out of trouble—or I’ll tie you to a tree until the danger’s gone. Got it?"

You can't help but laugh, even though it earns you a half-hearted scowl. "Got it."

"Good," he says, wrapping the final bandage with a precise knot. Then, to your surprise, he brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. "Because if you pull something like this again, I won’t just scold you—I’ll haunt you. Permanently."

Despite his words, the way he cups your cheek and presses a featherlight kiss to your temple tells you all you need to know about how deeply he cares.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[urperfectcinnamonroll07]

Hiii :) i was wondering if you could write a “mingyu being obsessed with your tits” pretty please??? Thankyouu

Obsessed

requested?: yes pairing(s): kim mingyu x afab!reader genre: smut warning(s): smut (you know the drill), tits appreciation. nipple play, unprotected sex (wrap it up, its getting cold ya'll, its winter), soft sleepy sex, soft mingyu, mentions of older men and men reader's age staring at her (very brief), fingering, (slight) dom to sub!mingyu, aftercare (switched it up a lil and made the reader give mingyu aftercare) summary: 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘺𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘴, 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦. word count: 2.1k a/n: hello, thank you so much for the very lovely request. honestly i have been very busy, so i hope you can find it in yourselves to forgive me. i hopefully will try and get the two twisted series fics out soon because it has been sitting in my to-do list for quite a while! i also may wrtite a small christmas smut for a special someone i have been crushing on for a while now (coughdrewstarkeycough). but, remember to eat and drink something, love yas, mwah!

it was safe to say that mingyu had always been obsessed with your tits. whenever you wore a dress that was low cut, he could barely focus on anything the whole night that wasn’t your tits. but what he really loved was when you didn’t wear a bra with your shirts, that way he could see your perked up nipples when it was cold. he loved it.

but mingyu has been busy lately, with learning new dances for songs and singing and all the shit idols do, so he never really has much time to fuck you anymore. but, that was an exception for tonight. tonight, there was a really important event, and you had worn a very low cut dress. you got a lot of stares from older men and men your age, but you were glued to mingyu’s side the whole time so none of them ever gawked too much or ever came up to you.

but when it was time to sit and eat with the rest of seventeen, mingyu never took his eyes off of you, or rather, a specific place on you. the only place mingyu ever looked for the entirety of the night was down at your tits that were slightly protruding from your low cut dress.

the rest of the night went by pretty fast, and you had a lot of fun with your boyfriend and his group. and when it was time for you to go home, you sat in the passenger seat like a little princess, all dolled up. you and mingyu had decided since it was pretty late and you were both quite tired that you would shower tomorrow instead of tonight. mingyu kept his hand on your thigh the whole ride home, and when he pulled onto the driveway, he quickly ran around to your side of the car and open your door before you even got the chance to wake up properly.

he walked behind you into the house and helped you take your shoes off since you were extremely tired and still hadn’t woken up properly.

mingyu helped you upstairs to your shared bedroom and helped you out of your skin tight dress. it was amazing how fast he managed to get you out of your clothes and into an oversized t-shirt. you then took your make-up off by yourself while mingyu got changed before letting yourself fall into bed alongside mingyu.

it was safe to say that you were almost half asleep when you felt mingyu place a cold hand on your tits, you jerked back into him, recoiling at how cold his hands were as he moved the other one on your other tit.

“sorry” he mumbled softly as he kisses down your neck slowly from behind you. “needed to warm them up”

he continued to leave open mouth kisses down your neck, very soft and light ones before beginning to suck a little. you felt him pinching and kneading at your now hardened nipples. you let your head rest back on mingyu’s chest as he played with your tits. nothing felt rushed as he slowly moved one hand down to the waistband of your panties.

he slowly dipped a finger in-between your folds and instantly found your clit he rubbed a small circle around it before dipping his fingers down further and before you knew it was slipping a finger in your hole. he instantly curled the finger and pressed his thumb to your clit, applying some pressure and adding another finger into your sopping hole.

you let out a small whimper as he curled the two fingers yet again, making you squirm against him. there was whimper and moans that left your mouth that were so quiet that you would of missed them had you both not been so quiet. mingyu pulled your hips back to him as you tried to buck them away from him. you were nearing your high and you knew it.

“shhh, my love, it’s okay, let go for me” he whispers softly into your ear. you only whimper in response at his raspy voice, clenching around his fingers.

it was another few curls of his fingers and circles of your clit before you clamped down on his hand, trapping it in-between your thighs and crying out. your hips bucked a few times as he helped you ride out your high before pulling his fingers back and sucking them clean, making a noise of satisfaction as he tasted your juices.

“taste so good, baby” he whispers softly against the shell of your ear, placing a few kisses on your neck before you pushed him away softly and turned over to face him. you could now feel his hard cock pressing against your stomach.

your hand travelled down from his shoulder where it was resting, down his chest to his stomach and eventually to the tent in his joggers. you undid the strings and instantly took his thick cock in the palm of your hand. you jerked him a few times, using the pre-cum gathered at the tip as a form of lube before using your other hand to massage his balls.

it didn’t take long before mingyu was whimpering and moaning as pathetically as you were beforehand. you smirked softly as you realised the bucking of his hips meant he was close to reaching his high, his moans beginning to get louder. you had him exactly where you wanted him. you kept going for another few seconds before you took your hands away, leaving your poor boyfriend without an orgasm, he whimpered as he opened his eyes again to look at you.

you then moved the sheets aside and looked down at his joggers which had a small wet patch in the crotch before smirking again and going down to the bottom of the bed and tugging at his joggers. he instantly got the hint and lifted his hips up, helping you to get his joggers off.

you then pulled them off fully and threw them somewhere in the room, you would find them tomorrow. you looked up at mingyu’s flushed face through your lashes as you opened your mouth and lowered your mouth onto his cock. your right hand came up to cup and massage his balls as you lowered your head straight down onto his cock. you gagged slightly, your eyes brimming with tears, but you started bobbing your head nonetheless.

it didn’t take long before mingyu was whimpering your name and practically begging you to let him come down that pretty little throat of yours. and you let him, you bobbed your head a few more times before his lower stomach tensed up and he let out a somewhat loud whimper before his seed painted your throat white. you rode him through his high, still massaging his balls and bobbing your head until he shook with overstimulation.

you pulled your head away from his cock and took your hand away to stop massaging his balls which now had small bits of your saliva running down it. you then opened your mouth to show him you had swallowed every but of him, to which he put his head back in the pillows and muttered a low ‘fuck’.

you rubbed your thighs together with a small smirk before clambering on top of him and straddling his pelvis. his cock perked up again because you felt his hard length pressing against your ass. you wiggled your hips slightly, just to tease him a little, which resulted in a small groan along with his hands gripping your hips tightly and throwing his head back in the pillows.

“you want me to ride you baby?” you ask sweetly, wiggling your hips again. he only groaned slightly in approval, but you frowned and spoke again, “gonna have to do better than that, baby. use your words for me, hm?” you coo.

“please” he says breathily “ride me please” he whines.

“oh good boy” you coo again, though this time closer to his ear as you kissed your way down his neck to his shoulders, leaving bites every so often. “no touching or i’ll stop, yeah?” you say, sitting back up straight on his lap, he nodded softly, thinking it would be easy.

you weren’t going to make it easy, so you took your shirt off.

mingyu swallowed hard when he saw your tits, itching to reach out for them and massage them, touch them, roll your nipples, anything. he just wanted to touch them so damn bad. you smirked when you saw that his hands twitched, wanting to touch you, but restraining himself, knowing the consequences. you kissed down his chest lightly before deciding to stop teasing and just ride him.

you slowly lined his cock up with your dripping hole before slowly sinking down onto him. you moaned softly, throwing your head back as you reached the base of his cock. mingyu let out a groan in satisfaction, trying to keep his hands at his sides. you let yourself adjust to the size of him, wiggling your hips lightly, earning a small whimper from the man beneath you.

you smiled softly and leaned down to kiss him softly before sitting back up on his cock and lifting yourself up. you let yourself fall back down on his length, moaning as his cock filled you up so well. mingyu loved your snug walls around you any time of day, and when you lifted your hips up to drop them back down onto his length, you could’ve sworn you heard a pathetic little moan slip out from his mouth.

you grin widely as you look down at him, his eyes lidded and lust-filled.

“being such a good boy” you praise, grinding your hips down onto his again, creating the best friction against your clit and causing his tip to prod at your cervix. you looked down and saw the small bump in your stomach caused by his cock and smiled even wider, if that was even possible. “look what you do to me baby” mingyu looked down and instantly threw his head back, letting out a small whimper.

his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, you laughed lightly before beginning to bounce on him again. you placed your hands on his chest for a bit of leverage, your pace beginning to quicken. mingyu let out small whimpers and moans when you began kissing up and down his chest. instead of bouncing, you were now grinding. you then sat back up after you had left a few marks on him.

this time, you were now bouncing with so much force that your tits were bouncing as you did so. mingyu never took his eyes off your bare chest, this was your favourite position for the both of you, the only downside being that your thighs got tired very fast, which they were now.

mingyu must have sensed this because he started to thrust up into you with a force that had you mewling and panting like a dog in heat. you could feel the burn in your stomach, the desire, the need to come.

“gonna-gonna come” you say through pants. mingyu smiled softly but then let out a small whimper as your walls clamped down on him. you were getting closer every time you lifted your hips and slammed them back down again, mingyu matching your thrusts.

you could feel a mouth close around your left nipple, sucking and biting softly, and your other tit getting massaged. and weirdly enough, that was the thing that threw you over the edge, making you come so good.

mingyu was still thrusting up into you, helping you ride out your high while moving his attention to your other breast, beginning to suck and nip at the right one and massaging your left.

he kept his mouth around your nipple, continuing to such while he came with small muffled whimpers. you felt his seed cover your insides, painting your silky walls white with his come.

you were both panting when he pulled away from your tits, admiring your fucked out state. he was still inside of you when he picked you up and brought you to the bathroom. you slowly sat him down on the toilet seat before climbing off him and running a bath. he was going to stand up himself and do it before you pushed him back down.

“let me take care of you, baby” you said softly, he nodded and sat back down again.

you finished running the bath and allowed him to get in. you sat down facing him and washed his body for him, as well as his sweaty hair and face. you then washed yourself and sat in the bath for a little while together until you both got out and got dressed for bed again.

you were laying as you had been prior to all of your ‘fun’. you felt a hand creep up your stomach to your tits, and when you looked behind you, you saw mingyu sound asleep, and not long later, you joined him.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Say, if someone were to take a long time (more than months) before speaking up about racism, are they wrong for not immediately addressing it and instead letting the hurt fester? The first time it happened I was questioning my own perception, and by the time I became sure, it feels like it's too late (and it's also been very long after the last time I saw it happen too), and I feel like I also played a part in not immediately speaking up because of fear of the consequences. None of the racism were big enough, but if I were to list every instance then wouldn't it look like I'm being petty and trying to smear campaign someone? Or immature for being avoidant and not communicating my hurt immediately?

I'm going to approach this from an antiblackness perspective, since that's what I talk about here.

I think it depends on a couple of factors. Are you Black? If so, then no, it's not wrong to feel hurt about it no matter how long ago it happened. What you experienced was wrong, and it'll always be wrong. Plus, not wanting to speak up because you know it'll just be a threat to you is a common reason why Black people usually don't speak up about racism. Because yeah, you'll get dogpiled and gaslit and abused when you dare suggest someone was *gasp* bigoted toward you and needs to apologize! There's no statute of limitations on racism, and we shouldn't have to create an entire case to prove ourselves the way we do. That said, if this is a stranger, you will probably not be able to approach on the offensive because you let the time pass. So unless you have receipts, really all you can do is block them and move on with your life, or tell them privately "hey, this thing you said/did wasn't okay. I didn't say anything before because I wasn't sure how you'd take it, but I have not felt as safe around you since then, and I felt you needed to know" (and then probably block them). And you can't expect them to take it well- all you can do is say something, if you choose to at all. And if they take it that poorly, now you have the ability to tell others "yeah, this person did not take hearing about their bigotry well, and is not safe for Black people to be around". Because I would want to know if who I'm sharing from hates me.

If you are not Black, then I want you to consider (using your words) why the racism wasn't "big" enough, especially given that it wasn't dangerous towards you. What do you need to see in order to speak up? And by allowing it to get that large, recognize that you helped create a space where that behavior was safe and acceptable by saying nothing when all the "small" racism was occurring! That said, people are going to take it as petty regardless of your intent, because that's how racism is treated both here and outside the internet. It may be demeaned, treated as a smear campaign, because people think calling out racism is worse than being racist. So it really depends on how much you're willing to stand on it. You saw all these things happen, you have the receipts, you know you're in the right- are you willing to speak up? Are you willing to accept what may happen, or are you more worried about your own comfort? Maybe you'll allow Black people who saw all that racism feel heard and valid, so they can speak up too. Maybe you'll start a conversation that needs to be had. Maybe you'll be a step towards cracking that environment where this racism was acceptable, or worse case scenario, you'll recognize that this isn't a place you want to be if racism is treated so lightly. Those are hard decisions!

Sorry that this probably didn't make you feel better, but it's not a light topic.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Merry Christmas to you too my wonderful friend!🎄💗

Aww poor Ben. I love how we start with shading in his past Christmases compared to what he's starting to experience now with the reader. We come at it from the same angle of headcanon, that Ben's mom was the only person who truly loved him in his family. So it was such a good detail that after she died, Christmases became just more of the same toxic/apathetic atmosphere with his father, compounded by the impact of his mom's death.

Thank you! I love this headcanon and I really hope that in the prequel series "Vought Rising" that we're able to see a little more of Ben's relationship with his father and hopefully let us learn more about his mother. I know that this headcanon is a little "dean-like" but I think it also kinda plays into the "angel in the house" phenomenon that started in the mid to late 1800s. But the headcanon to me, makes sense. Ben has so many issues with his dad and I honestly don't think that if his mother was around that Ben's father would give him such a hard time or allow Ben to grow up in that kind of enviornment.

I also wanted to give Ben some "happy" memories from his childhood that he could compare what the reader was doing for him to something that was familiar and something that resonated with him😊, something about Christmas that was "familiar."

Lmfao come on, Ben. Let's not take this out on others. 🤣

He is the KING of taking it out on others LOL 😂 He also takes it out on Hughie in this fic and I felt so bad doing that to Hughie, but it is so in character for Ben 😒

Wow, that's so interesting. Taking a trip literally through Memory Lane and walking through his family's mansion. I've never thought about that before, but I imagine it would be one of those things that Ben, for the longest time, couldn't bring himself to sell, but also couldn't visit. Like a mausoleum of his old life.

I use this headcanon in my other series Madness, (same with Ben's mother), but to me it seems to make sense. That Ben would have a family mansion somewhere that is full of terrible memories from his father being a total jerk to him and never wanted to set foot inside. "Like a mausoleum of his old life" EXACTLY! It's just a big drafty old house that Ben can't go into because even though he says he's not afraid of anything, he can still feel his father's disapproval and disappointment, and going "home" to where he grew up would only make it worse.

Ben doesn't know what a home is because of what his father did, and now the reader is slowly showing him what it means. I also low-key wanna write the fic of her and him coming back to his house and him being hesitant and her just wandering around in complete shock. 🤔

You're killin' me, friend!! 😭😭

Girl, I'm so sorry 😭😭😭 I had to 😂 It's really just pouring on the hurt and he just really loved his mom 😭

Lmaooo deeply relatable. I feel like it would be oh so funny to intentionally getting on his nerves (knowing he wouldn't hurt you). 😂

I knoooowwww. 😂 I love that about your BMD reader, that she isn't afraid to tease him and he just absolutely HATES it, but he loves her so he can't do anything about it and she knows it. I'll bet that he thinks the real problem is that she knows it LOL 😂

Oh, it's because he actually cares. 💗

He does, man is a total SIMP 😊

People want to think there aren't any good aspects to "traditional/old-fashioned" men, but for the men who are actually good men, traditional doesn't necessarily mean outdated or toxic, so thank you for including this tidbit.

Thank you! 😊 You're right, I think that there's a disconnect about the idea that a "traditional/old-fashioned" man can't be respectful and is always labeled "sexist" or "toxic." And it's wrong, because you can find a man who is respectful, forward thinking, and who has those "old-fashioned/traditional" values (CHIVALRY! 😂) that really translate into putting their girl first, being respectful of what she wants to say, trying to protect her (not because they don't think she can protect herself, but because they want to), and doing things for her (again not because they think she can't do it herself) but because they genuinely care about her. It's the difference between a man and a boy tbh 💅🏻

Her gift to him was so very sweet!! Of course she made him something heartfelt, and he appreciated it because it was a genuine "first" for him, having someone give him a hand-made gift from the heart. 💚💚💚

I know 💗, I really wanted the reader to make something for him, just so that he could again be reminded how much that she loves him and isn't staying with him just because it's convenient or because he's attractive or because she's settling. Also I like that you picked up on the "first" thing again, because that was exactly what I was trying to do lol 😊. It's hard to find firsts for a guy who's over 100 years old 😂

And his gift to her was absolutely perfect. 🥹 A keepsake from his mother? Him basically saying he wishes she could've met his girl? I'm dying of happiness from the sheer fluff. 😭💗

This one was extremely fluffy, but so fun to write! Ben getting her a gift that meant something so intimate to him that he wouldn't have given to anyone else in the past, really just made me melt when I wrote it 🥺 Because he's never wanted to share those pieces of himself with someone else and now he has the reader and I'm just *crying*😭. AND yes! Him saying that he would have brought her home to meet his mom just destroyed me 😭

This was a beautiful addition to the Take a Chance story, and kind of feels like an epilogue in a way, even though I know you're working on that one too. I loved this, friend!!

Thank you so much my wonderful talented friend! 🥰 It really does read like an epilogue and I did not notice that lol 😅

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV and Reader POV

Summary:  All Soldier Boy wants for Christmas is to find the perfect gift for you and all you want is for your boyfriend to have the best Christmas he has in forty years. Reader is a supe with plant powers. (Takes place in my Take A Chance On Me Series- 4 months after they get together, but can be read as stand alone!)

Tropes: Established Relationship, First Christmas, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 8.5K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Illusions to Sex, Fluff, Soft Soldier Boy, A little bit of self-deprecating thoughts, Soldier Boy is Mean to Hughie, Mention of drinking/drugs, Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Take A Chance On Me Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Song Inspiration: Little Things By ABBA

A/N: I know I should be working on the epilogue of "Take a Chance on Me," but @zepskies wrote a lovely Christmas fic called 'Twas the Night for Dean Winchester, and it really just got me in a mood to write some Christmas Fluff! 🥰

Soldier Boy POV

Ben frowned at the delicate necklace laid on the black velvet cloth in front of him, the 10 carat diamonds catching in the brilliant lights that lined the ceiling of the jewelry store. It was the eleventh piece of jewelry that he'd asked the woman behind the counter to remove from the display case, and it still wasn't right.

Ben had waited until the last possible moment to go Christmas shopping. It wasn't because he'd forgotten or because he'd been so busy he hadn't had time to shop or because he'd been called away on a mission, but rather Ben kept putting it off because he didn't want to think about it.

It was his first Christmas back in the U.S, and it was already proving to be one so different than the ones he'd known before.

Christmas for him in his youth when his mother was alive was filled with light and joy. Each room of his family's mansion strung with tinsel, adorned with holly and festive wreaths, and a Christmas tree so large that it put all others to shame and sent the smell of pine wafting thorough the large home. He remembered the lavish parties his mother threw with women in gorgeous gowns and men dressed in suits taking crystal glasses from silver trays, remembered the warmth in the kitchen as his mother baked and rolled fresh pastry, remembered the taste of the hot chocolate on the tip of his tongue that his mother made him before she sent him to bed on Christmas Eve, and remembered her tight embrace and the smell of her floral perfume on Christmas morning when he'd run down the stairs into the living room.

Ben's jaw tightened.

Christmas without her was different, the large mansion where he lived with his father was cold and dark. The hallways desolate and frozen in the winter months that lead into spring, the kitchen no longer heated by the warmth of the oven or infused with the smell of gingerbread, the parlor no longer tinkling with the sounds of glasses and the laughter of guests, the living room no longer housed a Christmas tree so tall that it made the Eiffel tower look like a trinket, and there were no longer Christmas parties where people danced into the wee hours of the morning and poured themselves into bed smelling of champagne and eggnog.

All that was left was the drunken stupor of his father, the harsh words that echoed down the long hallways, and the urge for Ben to find the nearest bottle and drown himself in it.

Ben spent most of his years as a supe trying to forget the years that followed his mother's death and also his Christmases as a supe washing away the memory of the ones that seemed to be infused with the magic of Christmas in his youth.

Ben spent them at Legend's Christmas party with his woman of the hour clinging to his arm, making painful small talk and waiting until the party turned into a hedonistic thrall of sweat and skin as so many others had. And the next morning when he woke up from the fog, he turned back to the little white line that promised to make him forget and the amber bottle that did little to ease the reality that started to sink in.

But this year was different, because he had you.

You who loved Christmas more than anyone he'd ever met, you who was slowly reminding him how much he used to love Christmas as a child, you who'd dragged him to go Christmas tree shopping before Thanksgiving, you who had encouraged him to help decorate the small apartment the two of you shared with so many Christmas lights it was blinding,  and you who had planned something Christmas themed every week for the past month whether it be baking Christmas cookies or watching Christmas movies while drinking hot chocolate on the couch. And in each moment, you'd found some way to include him in it.

Ben wasn't used to that.

He wasn't used to someone wanting him there with them and someone like you going out of your way to include him in everything you did.

If a person had tried to tell him in the past that he'd ended up with someone like you, someone who smiled easily, someone who always put other people first, someone who actually gave a shit about him, someone who was always so damn warm and welcoming, someone who included in him everything you did in a way that didn't make Ben feel like an old grump, and someone who tried their best to make sure that Ben remembered every day that you wanted him around, he would have laughed in that person's face.

And yet there you were.

Truth be told Ben knew that the old version of him probably wouldn't have let someone like you close to him, let alone fall in love with them.

Ben hadn't met anyone else like you in the numerous years he'd been alive and he really didn't want to fuck it up. He'd fucked up so many other things in his life and he hadn't cared, but if it involved you, he wouldn't dare.

Hence, the current dilemma of him standing in the crowded Tiffany store at 8 pm two days before Christmas with you waiting at home for him to exchange gifts. Ben wanted to pick the perfect gift for you, but nothing felt right.

He'd never given much thought to what to buy someone for Christmas. In the past usually an expensive piece of jewelry, a handbag, a dress, or a car would have made any of Ben's many escapades swoon, but not you. Ben had tried to give you jewelry before, expensive jewelry that would have made any of those other women drop to their knees, but you were different.

And as much as Ben loved that about you, it was only making this worse for him.

The one time that he'd tried to give you a gift outright, a beautiful diamond and emerald drop pendant with earrings to match, you hadn't been impressed. Sure, you'd thought that it was beautiful, but you'd told him that you liked gifts that "meant something."

Whatever the fuck that meant.

And he knew for a fact that the 10 carat diamond necklace on the velvet pillow in front of him would mean nothing to you.

"Fuck." Ben murmured under his breath, and the saleswoman stiffened.

"Still not quite right?" She asks, adjusting the sleeves of her navy blue blazer. "We have some bigger jewel-"

"It's not the fucking size." Ben snaps frustrated.

He was running late.  He knew that you were waiting at home for him to bring back dinner and to give him his present, the one that he was sure would be thoughtful and perfect for him because you were always so damn caring.

The other shoppers were pushing and shoving their way to the counters where other salespeople stood in identical navy blazers and white button down shirts, the tension and buzz of two days to Christmas electrifying the air, while Christmas music that Ben couldn't recognize played in the background.

His supe hearing made it worse. Sometimes it was a bit overwhelming and as much as Ben pretended that he didn't have PTSD, he did. Being surrounded by this many people was not helping. It was in moments like this when you were there, would hold entwine your fingertips with his and brush your thumb gently over the back of his hand to ground him as if you could sense his discomfort.

Ben hadn't ever had someone care enough to notice things like that. Another reason why he wanted to find you the perfect gift, because you put up with all his shit and didn't ask for anything in return.

"Ben?" He hears a familiar voice ask, hesitant, and he turns to see Annie standing a few feet inside the open doorway. S

he's wearing a black puffer jacket and her hair is hidden under a red stocking cap, while Hughie holds the door for her. Hughie's arms were laden down with bags while Annie's remained bare. The winter wind blew in through the space, flecking bits of snow onto the rugs that had been laid out to avoid the customers sliding through the sludge.

"Hey." Ben grunts, not quite smiling.

He wasn't good at talking to your best friend or her boyfriend. Personally he thought that Hughie was a fucking pussy and that he didn't have the balls to tell Annie no, but the one time Ben had told you that, you'd only rolled your eyes and told him that Hughie "loved Annie."

Ben loved you and he did have the balls to tell you no, but Ben thought that sometimes it was better to keep his mouth shut and do what you asked. Not to mention Ben hated saying no to you when it was something that could make you happy. Ben liked making you as happy as you made him. 

He flinched at the thought. The self-deprecating monologue was beginning to seep in, the one that told him you were turning him into a "pussy" and that he should cut and run. The same monologue that made him make a mistake and run back to Vought a few months ago when he should have run to you.

Ben shakes it off.

"What are you doing here? I thought you two were going to leave this morning for Illinois?" Annie asks in surprise used to Ben's grouchy demeanor.

Your grandmother turned Christmas into a two day extravaganza, complete with a Christmas Eve and a Christmas Day party. And although Ben and you were supposed to begin the 14 hour drive to Illinois this morning, your grandmother had insisted the two of you catch a flight first thing tomorrow.

"Decided to catch a flight tomorrow." Ben replies.

Ben was secretly happy, because flying meant that he wasn't going to have to drive 14 hours in the snow. The two of you had driven to Illinois once before, and Ben hadn't minded it. You’d been more upset with him for not letting you drive, but Ben liked driving. Driving meant that he was in control and in an emergency situation he wouldn't have to reach over the console and yank the wheel to save the two of you and driving meant that you could relax in the passenger seat and work on whatever it was you were crocheting.

"Like us!" Hughie flashes Ben a wide smile that Ben doesn't feel the need to return. “You should have told us. We could have all traveled together!”

Ben's frown deepens at the thought at being stuck in a metal tube for hours with Hughie and he knew that if you were here you would probably elbow him in the side and tell him to "be nice." If anyone had ever tried to do that to him in the past, he would have ripped their arm off, but not you.

"Last minute shopping?" Hughie asks trying again.

Ben dragged his eyes over the numerous bags hanging from Hughie's arms. "Yeah. You too?"

"Mhmm. We just finished." Annie replies. Her gaze drops to the diamond necklace on top of the display case that the saleswoman is fiddling with. "Is that for-"

"No. Of course not!" Ben says sharper than he means to, shoulders tensing. But him standing in this store when he knew that you were waiting at home for him to celebrate Christmas made him feel like Annie and Hughie had caught him red-handed. "She doesn't like jewelry." He adds referring to you as he takes a step back from the counter and the sales associate who looks confused.

“But sir-“ The woman begins to say, but Ben waves a hand to shut her up.

"Why do you think that?" Annie asks interrupting the woman.

"Because she yelled at me when I bought her that diamond and emerald necklace!" He shouts so loud that some of the other customers turn to stare at him. "This was a fucking mistake, I have to go-" Ben starts to stomp out the door and past Annie not sure where he's going, but she shifts to stand in his way. His eyes narrow in annoyance, thinking about all the ways that he could move her.

He only put up with Annie because she was your best friend and he knew that if he did anything to her then it would upset you, and Ben didn't like upsetting you.

Well, he did think that it was cute when you got angry with him. Your eyebrows scrunched together, your cheeks turned a cute shade of pink, and your eyes seemed to glow with the force of your anger. There were few people who had the courage to tell him off, but the more you did it, the more he started to like it.

But this was different, and now thinking about you only reminded him of his current dilemma.

"Ben, wait a minute." Annie says.

"What?" He snaps

He could practically feel the seconds ticking away until he had to go back to the apartment. It was the first time that he'd ever dreaded going home and seeing you and fuck he hated every single moment of it.

"She does like jewelry." Annie's mouth drops into a sympathetic smile.

Ben tried not to get more angry when he saw the pitying look in her eye. He didn't need her pity, didn't need anyone's pity! He was still Soldier Boy damnit!

"Then why the fuck did she-"

"She doesn't like this kind of jewelry." Annie clarifies. "She like vintage stuff, simple, refined. Hell, I have to practically drag her away from the display cases at Atomic Archives."

"Atomic Archives?" Ben asks hesitantly. He had no idea what Annie was talking about. You'd never mentioned that place before.

"Yeah, it's our favorite antique store. It’s about two blocks over from where the plant shop used to be.”

"Can you show me where it is?" Ben says it before he can stop himself, his heart surging with hope at the possibility of finding the perfect gift for you.

"I mean I-" Annie begins to say, but Hughie interrupts.

"Babe, didn’t you say that the owner was closed this week because she went out of town?" Hughie asks her, throwing a sympathetic look in Ben's direction that made him bristle.

"Oh, right." Annie sighs.

Ben felt the hope inside pop and deflate like a pricked balloon, but the longer he stood there in the crowded shop, with the ostentatious jewelry twinkling under the lights, the buzz of the chatter of other shoppers, and the ridiculous new-age Christmas music that grated on his ears, he began to have an idea.

"Come on." Ben might have said it as a suggestion, but it wasn’t open for debate. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he needed Annie and unfortunately that meant that Hughie was going to tag along.

"What?" Annie sputtered.

"Come the fuck on. I don’t have time for this." Ben snaps back and stomps out the doorway past Annie and Hughie into the snow.

"But what about-" Hughie begins to say and Ben whirls around to glare at him, eyes narrowing. "Okay you got it. Lead the way buddy." Hughie nods his head in agreement.

"I'm not your fucking buddy." Ben sighs under his breath.

Soldier Boy POV

"This place is really murdery." Ben hears Hughie whisper to Annie from somewhere behind him. "Do you think Ben is going to try to kill us? Should I call Butc-"

"I'm not going to fucking kill you!" Ben snaps, pulling out his keys, the jingle of the metal echoing down the long hallway. "And I guess you really can't make a decision without that British fuck can you?”

The storage unit warehouse was desolate, but that was to be expected, it was after all two days to Christmas and most were more focused on buying things to put in their storage units than moving things out. The lights along the roof of the steel gray hallway flicker and throw long shadows over the navy blue doors of the units doing little to alleviate the creepy aura.

In hindsight Ben did agree that this particular storage space was "murdery," but it was the only one that he could get close to the apartment last minute. The same apartment that Ben has been trying to convince you to move out of.

It wasn't the safest neighborhood, and Ben hated the thought that you'd lived there as long as you had, walking home at night alone before he moved in. Now it wasn't a problem because Ben never let you walk by yourself. And as hard as you'd fought him not to live in a "big fancy apartment" all Ben wanted was to live somewhere where he could imagine staying permanently. Not in a small one bedroom apartment where he had to stoop in the shower, the bed barely fit in the bedroom, and seemed too small for one person let alone two.

He knew that he was wearing you down, but he still had a long way to go.

"Why are we here then?" Hughie asks.

"You're here because your girlfriend wouldn’t come without you.” Ben rolls his eyes as he fits the key into the thick padlock.

He was getting tired of listening to Hughie’s whining. He heard enough of that when he was stuck on missions with him, but he was tolerating him, for the moment at least. He had to, because if he didn't then he was never going to be able to find the perfect gift for you.

The interior of the storage unit isn't anything special. Ben didn't have much that he wanted to keep from his old life, as a supe or from his childhood. The things inside this storage unit were the only things that Ben had left that didn't cause him to be reminded of how his father chastised him or the drafty home that Ben returned to each time he got kicked out of another boarding school.

The mansion that had been in his family for decades had sat abandoned and locked up, hidden from the main roads so it was undisturbed after Ben's father died. Ben had gone to Philadelphia a few months ago to get things in order with the bank and prepare it for sale, but had been surprised when you told him you wanted to come.

He didn't think that you'd want to be involved in something so tedious, but it was almost as if you could sense how hard it was going to be for him, and you'd insisted.

Ben had no intention of setting foot inside, but you were curious and even though it made Ben's throat tight to walk down the dusty cobwebbed halls, the wonder on your face as you walked through made the cold memories of the world he knew before he was a supe fade into the background.

And this storage unit was all that was left of that life.

Ben located the old steamer trunk with ease. It was a faded gray now, but Ben remembered the day his father bought it for his mother. When the grayed sides were a soft supple black, the metal lock and edging were a polished gold, and the rose patterned fabric that lined the inside was soft and covered in bright pink flowers.

When Ben opens the trunk, he catches the smell of the floral perfume his mother used to wear and after all these years it makes him remember the tight hugs she'd give him the moment she sent him off to bed and the tight hugs she'd given him when he rushed down the stairs on Christmas morning.

He didn't like thinking about her or talking about her, but sometimes he would think of her when he was with you. Whenever you did something caring without being asked or whenever you took the time to check in to see how he was doing. Not that you were motherly, just that Ben hadn't had anyone in a long time care about little things like that.

The only other "relationship" he'd tried to have was with Crimson Countess and she didn't do any of the things for him that you did. There wasn't any comparison between the two of you as far as Ben was concerned.

He shakes off the memory the way he always does and moves some of his mother's clothes for the cherry wood carved box that he knows is in the bottom.

He opens it slowly, extracting a small velvet box from within, one of many inside that Ben probably should have taken to the bank ages ago for safe keeping. Ben's father had a tendency to buy things for his mother whenever he "messed up" and the small velvet boxes inside were proof of that.

Ben turns back to where Annie and Hughie are watching with curiosity at the door of the storage unit. "Here."

"Here?" Annie says hesitantly looking at the velvet box in Ben's hand.

"You brought us out here for a box?" Hughie huffs.

Ben narrows his eyes. "No. And if you tell anyone about this I'll turn you inside out, ass-wipe."

"Why do you always have to be so-" Hughie begins to say, but Annie nudges him in the side.

Ben wondered briefly if Annie and Hughie also tried to tolerate him the same way that he tolerated them for you.  

"Wow." Annie says, her voice hushed and reverent when she opens the box with strands of her blonde hair falling out around the hat.

"You think she'll like it?" Ben clears his throat, trying not to wince at the question.

He hated that he was relying on Annie for this or relying on anyone in general. Ben would have rather taken a long walk off a short pier than anyone for help, but he was just so desperate to make sure that the first Christmas the two of you spent together was perfect.

You deserved that and Ben wanted to give it to you.

"She will."

"Good." Ben takes the box back, but decides to bring the wooden box with him back to the apartment just in case. His eyes narrow as he looks over at Hughie. "If you tell anyone about this, I'll shove your head up Butcher's ass. Then again, you two would probably enjoy something like that."

"You're welcome." Annie raises an eyebrow.

"Whatever." Ben mutters.

Reader POV

Ben was late and you were starting to worry.

Not that Ben was always punctual. The man was about as punctual as the White Rabbit, but rather Ben was sure to let you know when he was running late. Not to mention Ben was rarely late to things that he knew were important to you.

And tonight was special or at least you wanted it to be.

You look at your phone again to check the time, noting that it was nearing nine and Ben had told you he was going to be back at eight. You were trying not to think too much about it, busying yourself with other little things, like packing for your trip to your grandmother's home in Illinois. Something that you would have ended up doing about an hour before you had to go to the airport, but you knew that would only annoy Ben.

But you liked annoying him.

Ben's nostrils would flare, his jaw would flex, and the green of his eyes would darken in a way that sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine, but tonight you were too anxiety ridden at how late he was to care about making him annoyed.

Ben and you were supposed to leave this morning to drive the 14 hours to your hometown in Illinois, but you'd called your grandmother a few days ago and asked her if Ben and you could fly in instead.

You wanted the two of you have a Christmas alone before you dragged him back home and made him sit through the two holiday parties your grandmother threw. So you'd planned a quiet Christmas at home where the two of you could drink eggnog, watch some holiday movies, and exchange gifts before Ben was subjected to every single person you'd known since you were six.

But Ben didn’t seem to mind any of that.

Regardless, you were going all out this Christmas. It was Ben's first since he'd come back to the States and you wanted it to be perfect and it was the first Christmas the two of you were spending together as a couple.

The anxious energy that thrummed through your veins reached out into the numerous plants in your apartment, that shifted and stirred as your powers coaxed them forward. The vines that crept along the walls shook with an unnatural breeze, the Christmas tree grew an inch taller, the mistletoe hanging above the front door grew another few shimmering berries, the blackberry and raspberry vines that hung over your refrigerator fidgeted and wove together into a curtain while the tomato plant in the garden box above your sink dropped bright red fruit onto the counter, and the orange/lemon tree that sat behind your kitchen table blocking the view of the alley beyond shook it's branches for a moment. You could feel everything alive in your apartment leaning towards you as if waiting for your silent command.

Rex, the creature you'd created from broken vines and trampled leaves four months ago, flicks his eyes over to you sensing the same disturbance the rest of the plants inside could.

You bite the inside of your cheek fighting your urge to check your phone even though you know that less than a minute has passed since you'd last checked. Instead you fiddle with the ribbon on the lumpy wrapped gift that is perched on your lap.

Shopping for Ben had been difficult to say the least.

You weren't sure what to get your 104 boyfriend who'd lived as a hedonistic playboy for most of his life and you didn't like giving gift cards (you didn't think Ben would understand the concept) or giving people meaningless trinkets that they used once and then threw away (the Grinch was right about some things). You liked giving gifts that you put time and effort into that you were sure the recipient was going to love.

And you were sure that the package on your lap contained the perfect gift and you were excited to see the look on Ben's face when he unwrapped it.

Your cat Bean purrs where he sits beside you on the couch and Rex your, for lack of a better word, Dragon was watching the multicolored lights on the Christmas tree in the corner blink on and off.

It was bigger for your apartment than it should be, but Ben had insisted on getting it and you couldn't complain. Not when he genuinely seemed to be happy to stand there in the snow picking out a tree with you.

And after when no Uber driver agreed to pick the two of you up because of the tree, Ben had carried it on his shoulder fifteen blocks while you begged him to let you help. When you'd tried to take some of the tree, Ben had shifted it to his other shoulder and taken your hand instead, which wasn't what you meant when you reached out towards him, but you didn't let go, not when it was cold and Ben's hand was warm.

The one jammed into the corner of your small living room didn't have a leaf out of place or any signs of decay. You'd fixed that with a flick of a finger.

You'd gone all out with decorations.

Every plant in your apartment had lights of their own and ornaments that swung just out of reach from your pets. Christmas lights were strung down the hallway and there was a wreath on your bedroom door. Strands of mistletoe hung over every doorway in your apartment and there was one taped to the wall above your bed. That one was Ben's doing, but you couldn't complain, not when it felt so damn good to kiss him.

Ben hadn't spoken about the Christmases he spent in the past, but he'd listened to you talk about your Christmases growing up when the two of you decorated the tree with ornaments you'd collected over the years.

He might not have been big on sharing, but your boyfriend was good at listening. Not just pretending to listen, but actually being quiet and wanting to learn more about what you're saying. You'd thought it was odd when you became roommates and you realized just how much Ben listened and remembered what you told him, but now it was one of the reasons that made you love your boyfriend more.

You sighed, a happy smile on your face. You didn't think that you could feel this way about anyone, let alone someone you hated for so long, but you did. Ben was changing the belief you had about what relationships should look like, and you were sure that you were doing the same for him.

You hear the jingle of keys and the fumble of the doorknob as Ben slowly opens the front door and you leap from the couch.

"You're home!" You exclaim as your body hits his full speed, but he doesn't move. It was difficult for you to produce enough force to move him, difficult for anyone really.

Ben chuckles "Miss me Petals?"

He moves the plastic bag of Chinese food to his left hand so he can hug you back, his right hand fitting comfortably over the small of your back to hold you tighter against him.

You could remember the first time you hugged him, when all he did was stand there with his hands at his sides awkwardly while you held on to him as tight as you could. This was better. Ben's embrace is warm and strong, unyielding, but full of the love that he’d had such a hard time admitting.

"Yes." You squeeze him hard, smiling into his jacket that's flecked with melting snow, cold against your skin, but the warmth of his body soaks through the chill and into you. You sigh, nuzzling further into him. "I was worried-"

"Why?" Ben's voice rumbles through his chest, against your cheek.

"Because you weren't home yet." You pull back to stare up at him. His brilliant green eyes catch in the multicolored strands of Christmas lights, strung through your apartment. There's snow caught in his dark hair, turning to water and dripping down into his face in the warmth of the apartment.

Ben frowns. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You're here now." You smile arching up to kiss him. Ben groans into your mouth, his grip on you tightening as he deepens the kiss, pressing the hand on the small of your back just a little more to secure you against his chest.

You sigh softly, content in living in this moment with him for another few precious seconds. The heat of his body transferring into you the longer you stand pressed against him, soaking through your sweatpants and chunky sweater in the best way.

You'd never felt this way about anyone in the past. There hadn't been another boyfriend who'd treated you the way Ben did, no other boyfriend who'd cared about the little things, and no other boyfriend who you were so in love with. Even your first love so long ago faded into the background, the one you thought you'd never get over, and all that was left was Ben.

You're too excited about giving Ben his gift to eat. You sit cross-legged on the plush gray couch so close to him that your knees are touching the outside of his thigh as Ben places the boxes of food onto your coffee table. The anxious energy tingling in the pit of your stomach and buzzing in your chest so much that it's difficult to sit still.

And before Ben can give you your chopsticks, you thrust the lumpy wrapped package onto his lap with a wide smile.

"You first!" You say.

Ben shakes his head. "It should be ladies first."

“I’m not a lady Ben. We both know that-“

“Sorry sweetheart that’s the way it goes.”

“Don't be so old fashioned Gramps. It's 2024.” You roll your eyes at him, laughing at the cute frown that pulls at his lips when you use the nickname. Ben never liked it, but when you'd first met, Ben hadn't told you his real name, and you'd assigned him the nickname and it had stuck when you realized how much it annoyed him.

That was when he did everything in his power to annoy you as well, so it seemed like a good fit.

In all honesty, you didn't hate how old fashioned Ben was, if anything it was a relief, a reprieve from the way the modern boys treated women. It was nice to finally be with a man who actually gave a shit about you and cared what you wanted.

"And I really want you to open yours first." You plead as you lean towards him. "Oh, and this goes with it."

You reach down behind the couch to grab the small golden barrel cactus, avoiding the sharp yellow spines, and place it on the minimal space left on the coffee table. You'd crocheted a dark green sleeve to go around the terra cotta pot.

"You got me a cactus?" Ben snorts.

"I mean, I have so many plants in here and I thought that you'd want one that was yours. Plus, you'll never have to water it." You gesture with one hand to the numerous plants around the room, the ones bathed in the multicolored lights from the Christmas Tree, the ones with bright green leaves that unfurled towards the light, the others with hanging vines that trailed to the ground so thick that you couldn't remember the color of the wall, the apple tree with ripe red fruit, and the numerous herbs in the garden box that hung over your kitchen sink. "And I gave it a sweater."

"Why did you give it a sweater?"

"It’s used to a warm climate and because I had some yarn left over."

"From?"

"You're just going to have to open your gift and find out." You shrug, but can barely contain your excitement.

Ben shakes his head at you, but a smile twitches on the corner of his lips. You knew that your boyfriend loved you because you were different than anyone he'd ever met, and you reveled in that. You liked that even though Ben was older than you,  that no matter how many other experiences he'd had in his life,  you were a first for him just as Ben was a first for you.

He rips through the paper carefully, trying hard not to ruin what was inside, the sound of crinkling and tearing blocking out the Christmas playlist for a moment that you'd put on before Ben had come home, but you can hear the ABBA song clear as day.

For a moment he stares down at the gift not quite comprehending what the lumpy mass in his lap is, but then he picks it up.

It had taken a month for you to pick out the perfect dark green yarn that was soft but not too soft, green but not too green, and another two months for you to finish it when Ben wasn't home, but you were proud of the sweater that you'd made your boyfriend.

He stares at it for another few beats, holding it up to the light, and it makes you worry that maybe you should have bought him something at the mall instead.

"You made me a sweater?" He asks, there's something on the edge of his voice that you can't place, some traces of emotion that you're not able to identify.

"Yeah. I wanted to make you something." You clear your throat, worried. "I mean- you don't have any and I know that you keep saying you run a little warm, but I figured we're going to Illinois for Christmas and it might be cold."

Ben doesn't say anything and you start to feel the self-doubt come roaring in.

Why did I make him a sweater? I should have bought him some cologne or something.

"And you complained when Butcher sent you on that mission to Alaska last month and I just thought that-“ You press your lips into a tight line, shoulders drooping. “If you don't like it I can keep it for me-" You fumble, but before you can finish, Ben yanks you into his lap.

His hands cup your cheeks as he kisses you so fiercely that it wipes any doubts from your mind. You make a surprised sound in the back of your throat, but sink into the kiss.  “Don’t you fucking dare.” Ben mutters against your lips.

Your blush burns against your face. “You like it?”

He nods. “ No one’s ever made me anything before.” His voice comes out a little bit gruff, as if he’s embarrassed to admit it, but it makes you smile.

“I figured and I wanted to change that.” Your fingertips dance over his forehead, brushing away the hair that’s fallen forward before your hand drops to cup his cheek, feeling the scratch of his beard against the palm of your hand. “But you’re sure you like it?”

Ben kisses you again, his large hands settling on your hips with an encouraging squeeze. “I do.”

“Good. Merry Christmas.” You wrap your arms around the back of his neck to hug him for a minute, sinking into his embrace with a happy smile.

"Merry Christmas doll." Ben murmurs into your hair, affection lacing his words.

Again, you send a mental thank you to your grandmother for understanding that Ben and you needed a day to be together and celebrate the way you wanted to before coming to stay. Not that you didn't like the Christmas Eve party or the Christmas day party, but you wanted to give Ben this. You noticed that Ben still had a hard time being in places with a lot of people when the PTSD came roaring back, and you wanted to show him what Christmas meant to you and hopefully show what Christmas would look like between the two of you as long as you were together.

“Sweetheart you gotta open yours now.” Ben’s voice rumbles, the warmth of his breath on your ear. It makes a pleasurable shiver thrill skate down your spine when you think of all the other times the two of you have been this close.

“It’s okay I can wait.” You hum into his throat, content, but Ben won't give in.

He pushes you back gently from his chest shaking his head. “Too bad. It's your turn."

"Fine." You start to move back to the space beside him, but Ben's hands catch on your hips to stop you.

"I didn't say I wanted you to move did I?" His smile turns more smirk.

"I-"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I like having you on top of me?" Ben purrs, kissing under your jaw, his beard scratching in a way that makes your throat tight.

"Keep doing that and the only thing I'm going to unwrap is you." You sigh in a half-moan, fingers curling into the hair at the base of his neck.

"After." Ben leans back to reach into his coat pocket and pulls out a small black velvet box that fits in the palm of your hand.

You hesitate to open it.

It wasn't that you didn't want jewelry for Christmas, it was that Ben and you had done this song and dance before after he tried to make you wear a diamond and emerald necklace with jewels bigger than your index, middle, and third finger put together. The whole time you wore it the only thing you could think about is how many groceries you could have bought with the necklace, how much you were afraid that it was going to break, and how much you feared that you were going to lose it or someone was going to try and steal it.

Maybe that was ridiculous, but extravagant gifts never appealed to you. You liked gifts that meant something, gifts that were heartfelt and thoughtful, gifts like the bookshelf Ben had gotten you months ago before you were dating because he noticed you needed one. Not to mention you loved just spending time with Ben. If he hadn't gotten you anything you would have been content with just sitting with him on the couch and watching a Christmas movie.

But you smile, because you don't want to hurt his feelings and because it's his first Christmas in forty years and you wanted it to be special.

It's Christmas and I will be thankful and happy with whatever he got me, because Ben was thinking of me when he bought it.

You think to yourself as you open the box.

The first thing you notice is that the box isn't as new as you thought, the inside of the lid is printed in ancient script that's a little faded, worn against the aged white silk that lines it. Your eyes drift to the piece of jewelry nestled on the pillow. It's a silver locket, hexagon shaped, and about the size of your thumb. The face is printed with weaving ivy leaves and roses that reach to a simple plain border.

Simple, stately, and completely you.

Ben is uncharacteristically quiet, but he breaks the silence first. "Do you-" He clears his throat, "Do you like it?"

He asks it hesitantly, as if he's afraid to hear your answer. It was unusual for Ben to look so nervous.

You can only nod, any words you had stuck in the back of your throat. Your fingernail finds the seam between the two pieces of metal and you gently unlatch the locket to see the picture inside. There's a piece of glass protecting a yellowed photo of a little boy who looks no more than five standing in a small black suit. You didn't think that they made suits for kids that small. He's smiling and one of his teeth are missing, but he looks oddly familiar.

"Who is this?" You ask. The more you look at the photo the more you think that you've seen him before.

"It's me." He says it quiet, almost a whisper.

"You? But-"

"It was my mother's." He clarifies and you inhale sharply in surprise.

"Really?"

He nods once, looking uncomfortable. By now you knew that moments like this usually made your boyfriend uncomfortable no matter how many times that you'd told him that he didn't have to be uncomfortable about being vulnerable. He was getting a little better, slowly, very slowly.

"Oh Ben I don't know if I should-" You shake your head, afraid to touch something so old.

Ben didn't often speak about his mother, but when he did, it was always reverent and respectful. You could see in his eyes how much he had loved her and how much he had cared about her. His father, Ben also didn't like talking about, but Ben never spoke of his father with the kindness that he'd spoke about his mother.

And you didn't want to take something like this away from him, something that meant so much to him, because of how much he loved his mother.

"No. I-" He clears his throat and Ben's hand tightens on your waist. "I want you to have it."

"But-" You stutter.

"What else am I going to do with it Petals? Can't exactly wear it myself." Ben chuckles, but the humor doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s your mom’s and I-“ You trail off still looking at the photo of Ben as a little boy. He had the same mischievous twinkle in his eyes that you loved, the same unruly dark hair, but there was something different about him. He looked happier. It was the same look that Ben had when it was just the two of you together, the happiness that you wanted Ben to feel the rest of his life when he understood what it was like to be loved and cherished.

And it made you understand that the last time Ben must have felt loved and cherished was when his mother was still alive. It broke your heart to know that Ben had lived all these years without her and missed that in his life.

The locket was beautiful and the fact that Ben remembered what you said about liking gifts that “meant something” made your heart flutter.

Because this meant something. Ben taking the time to go through his mother’s jewelry and pick something out just for you that was special to him that he wanted to share with you, meant more than the emerald and diamond necklace he had tried to give you months ago.

There were tears burning behind your eyes the more you look at the photo of the little boy.

Ben is watching you. “Well-“ He shrugs. “I'm an only child. Which means I don't have any siblings who have wives to fight over this stuff so, I figured that if anyone was going to get it, it should be you. If you don't take it, it'll sit in that fucking storage unit. Seems like a shame."

You don't answer.

"And-" He hesitates, "I think my mom would have wanted you to have it. Hell, she might have given it to you, if I'd brought you home to meet her."

Your cheeks flush.

Ben studies you for another minute, before you watch his smile twitch into a frown. "Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have gotten you jewelry.  Annie said that you liked jewelry, but I told her you didn't and now the bitch is probably having a good laugh with that pussy of a boyfriend! Forget about it sweetheart, I'll go get you something else right now-" Ben tries to take the box from you, but you swat his hand away.

“Don't you fucking dare!” You shout, using the same words that he said to you when you tried to take his sweater away.

"But you don't like it-"

"I do!  And knowing how much this means to you, makes it better."

"Really?"

You nod, a wide smile wiping away any uncertainty in his gaze. "Will you help me put it on?"

"Sure." Ben says gruffly. His voice has lowered a little, and you know that it's a mixture of pride and love mingling in the tone. It made something break open deep inside and flood your ribcage with love.

You turn your neck to the side, pulling your hair away from the skin as Ben hooks the chain together at the nape of your neck.  The cool metal of the necklace against your skin and the weight are unfamiliar, but you already knew that you wouldn’t be taking it off anytime soon. "It's perfect!" You pull Ben in for a kiss, threading your fingers into his dark hair.

Ben smiles into your mouth, holding you tight against him as if he never wants to let you go and you don't want him to.

It was odd to think that you'd only been together for four months, but you couldn't imagine your life without him. It seemed ridiculous for you to think that Ben was it after such a short time, but he was. You'd never rushed into anything in your entire life, but then Ben was there shattering every expectation that you had, enough to make you throw your inhibitions to the wind and jump feet first into the unknown if it meant he was with you.

The kiss is softer than the one the two of you shared at your front door, filled with more emotion than Ben usually let the world see, but he was opening up bit by bit, learning that you wouldn't judge him for that and it made you feel sky high.

This was the relationship you'd always wanted, and you never thought that you'd have it with Ben, but now that you were here you wouldn't change a thing, because it wouldn’t have put you in his arms.

"You can change the picture." Ben murmurs into your lips.

"No way. I don't have any kid photos of you. And I'm pretty sure you'll see all of mine this week.”

“I bet you were cute.” Ben smiles, raising one of the hands from your hip to push your hair from your face. “Hard to imagine you being any other way sweetheart.” 

"Debatable." You sigh, nipping at his bottom lip in a way that makes Ben pull you back to him.

And when the kiss turns hungry, with you gripping his hair so tight you'd be sure that it would hurt anyone else, and with his fingers pushing up the bottom of your t-shirt to feel the warmth of your skin against his hands and find the dips and curves of your body that make you moan into his mouth, you can't help but think that this is the best Christmas you'd ever had.

"I do think it's later sweetheart." Ben's eyes shine with mischief, mouth pulling into the familiar smirk that makes your knees weak.

"Good. Because I have one other gift for you." You moan as Ben's mouth trails down to your jaw, his beard prickling against the sensitive skin, in a way that drives you mad.

"It's not another plant is it?" He bites just under your jaw and you tighten your hands in his hair, gasping softly.  "Fuck, I love those sounds you make baby." Ben murmurs.

"No." You've lost all ability to form sentences, not when he's so perfectly warm and the trail of his hands working up your abdomen consumes you.

"Give it to me later." Ben's eyes flash a startling green. "I want to unwrap my favorite gift right now."

"Keep going the way you are, and you're gonna find it."

Ben hesitates, before he raises his hand to feel the end of the brand new lingerie that you'd bought special for tonight, his eyes darkening with the realization. "Well then, Merry Christmas to me."

Ben's mouth falls against yours, but before he goes further, he pulls back just for a moment, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. Your eyes widen in surprise.

"Ben?" You question. 

"Merry Christmas Petals." He whispers, dragging his thumb over your cheek, and nudges his nose against yours in a gesture that warms your heart. He didn’t do things like that often, but whenever he did it always stood out to you, because it added on another layer to the man you loved with all your heart.

"Merry Christmas Ben."

A/N: I thought that they deserved a little Christmas fluff. I'm hoping that I have time to drop a follow up to this before Christmas, because I kinda want to write what happens when they go back to Illinois, but we'll see what happens! ❤️

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, Likes, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think 🥰

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[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 115 (Getting Cozy With New Friends?)

The events of this post occurred after New Year's Eve at the Salty Paw (Generation 2 Pts. 106 and 107).

After an eventful holiday season, Heather Nesbitt phoned her youngest sister on New Year's Day. Hazel checked the call display and forced a smile. "Hey Big Sis, what are you up to?"

"Hey, Little Dandelion. Just watching the Holiday Yule Log on repeat (totally autonomously) before I do some bookkeeping for the clinic. Helps me focus, and they haven't taken it off the air yet this year. How are you doing?"

"Pretty awful," Hazel admitted. "I'm sorry we just left without saying goodbye last night. We were too busy giving each other the cold shoulder all the way back to Henford."

"Don't apologize. I'm glad you got home safely, but I know things between you aren't okay. I think we all hoped things would get better after you talked on Winterfest Day."

"We didn't really talk. We skated and went home and just didn't fight for a few days."

Heather frowned. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Hazel shook her head. "Not right now. I want to have a nap and then get out of the house for the night. It's weird being here surrounded by her family all the time. I feel like her mother and brother are constantly judging me."

"They love Nicola like we love you," Heather said. "But she shouldn't talk to you like she does. You don't deserve it. I'm willing to bet that a lot of what she's going through isn't even really about you."

Hazel sighed. "I just make it all worse."

Heather loved her baby sister and would always support her, but she never would have advised Hazel's next move.

To end a New Year's Day where Hazel spent as much time avoiding Nicola and her family as possible, she found herself drinking screwdrivers at the pub that night. She was alone, again, until she met Suri Romeo and flirted over drinks until well after midnight.

When the pub closed, they continued with a stroll along the River Bagley. The place near the village green, which had earlier that day been packed with locals for the annual Polar Bear Swim, was devoid of any lamplights, but Hazel could still make out Suri's smile in the light of the moon. "Are you happily married, Hazel?"

She didn't want to answer and pulled Suri in for a kiss. It felt electric - nothing like the kisses she shared with her wife. Not now, and maybe not ever.

But she thought of Nicola back home, probably asleep and snoring a little. Her wedding vows meant she wasn't supposed to do this, and she pulled away with a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry," she said. "My wife."

Suri nodded with an understanding smile. "I'm living with my grandparents at their farm in Old New Henford. Call me when you figure out some things."

But Hazel called Suri long before she had anything "figured out," inviting her to the first Finchwick Fair of the new year. "I have to be there with Mayor Varner, but it's really a great opportunity for you to live like a true Henford local," she told Suri, and they met outside the village green on a sunny winter afternoon.

"Did your wife not want to be here?" Suri wondered.

"She's grading papers and the Finchwick Fair isn't really her thing. She loves gardening, but she hasn't done much of it lately." Nicola recalled the woman she used to know with some regret before quickly brushing it away and returning her focus to Suri. "Here, I saw this video that made me think of you. It's a cat, but he's a chef. It's called ChefCat!"

They were interrupted by friendly Mayor Varner, who was happy to meet anyone in his town at any time. "Hello there! I'd never miss a new face!"

"Mayor Varner, this is Suri Romeo. She's just moved to town to learn to be a great chef from her grandmother, Clara Bjergsen."

"Ah! The Bjergsens are wonderful citizens! And your grandmother's baked goods are the reason I'm out of shape."

Suri smiled. "Hopefully one day I'll be just as good as she is."

"You'll have a wonderful mentor. Welcome to town, Miss Romeo!" He turned to a starry-eyed Nicola. "How are those new year's reports coming, Hazel?"

"I should be done this week, sir. It's a lot of information to put together."

He frowned. They both knew he'd expected those reports on his desk last week, but the work was a drag, and he'd given her too many previous extensions. She forced a smile for her boss.

When it got a little cooler, Hazel and Suri went inside the pub to warm up. They danced to some holiday music still playing on the in-house stereo, before Hazel pulled a sprig of mistletoe from the ceiling. "Laura must've forgotten to take this down with the rest of the Winterfest decorations," she mused, but she held it playfully over her head anyway. Suri laughed, leaning in to kiss her quickly on the lips.

Hazel glanced around. The bar was mostly empty with most patrons enjoying the fair outside, but they knew they shouldn't be spotted doing what they were doing.

They continued to see one another in secret, hanging out at the community garden in Old New Henford to get to know one another. Suri told Hazel about life growing up in an apartment in San Myshuno with her parents and brothers, and about visits to Henford to see her grandparents and aunts every summer. She even told her about her mother's cousin Olivia, who was a basketball star at Foxbury Institute.

Hazel was happy to talk about her family - her parents, her sisters, her brother, all her in-laws and nieces and nephews - but not her wife. And she knew her friendship with Suri was dangerous. She wanted Suri all to herself and didn't want her wife to know anything about her.

As the snow melted beneath her jacket, Hazel would cloudgaze (even in Henford's mild, sunny winter climate) and imagine herself with Suri. Not Nicola.

She knew marriage counseling was the best course of action, but when she looked at Nicola, she didn't want to do it. When Suri entered her life, she could finally admit to herself what she'd tried to mask for years. Hazel was no longer attracted to her objectively beautiful wife, and no amount of counseling would bring her feelings back.

She grew increasingly careless in her time spent with Suri. She told Suri she wanted out, but conversations with Nicola these days always ended in tears. She didn't tell anyone what was going on because she knew they'd tell her to be better. To talk to Nicola, to end things with Suri before they went too far, to be a bigger person. She'd lost her will to care about any of it.

On Sportsball Sunday, Hazel wanted to go to the Gnome's Arms to watch the game. River had invited her to her childhood home, but Suri would be at the pub. She was getting ready to go when her girlfriend surprised her at home in the Bramblewood.

"What are you doing here? I was just leaving."

"I came to tell you my little cousin Jada heard at school that you and I are seeing each other."

Hazel froze. If kids at school were talking about Mrs. Moody-Nesbitt's wife having an affair, then... Sure enough, Nicola met them in the yard with a churlish grin.

"Oh good! You're both here, so I only need to get mad once before I forget either of you and leave while Hazel packs her things."

Hazel was quiet, letting Nicola unleash a torrent of disappointment at her affair. "It kills me Hazel. I wanted a family with you. It's all we talked about for years, but then I lost my dad and you cheated. And I found out at work, which is so embarrassing! My schedule was never the problem when it came to counseling. I worked the same schedule every day, I came home - you're the one who always had somewhere else to be."

Hazel was defeated and ready to leave, and she apologized for embarrassing her. "I shouldn't have been with Suri behind your back, but what are we really salvaging anymore, Nic? I'm sorry."

Nicola scowled. "Oh, you're done? Hazel, I already got the divorce papers from the courthouse. Sign them and get out of my house."

Though Nicola put on a confident facade while she took the initiative to end their union, they both left the marriage with regrets. They could have tried harder, if they were really meant to be. But more than anything, they could have waited to get married. Maybe then they'd never have married at all, and their differences wouldn't have been so hard to take.

And now, with the sunny weather betraying their broken hearts, Hazel Nesbitt and Nicola Moody-McMillan had shared their last cozy celebrations together.

How would each move on from here? ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

The answers to that question! Nicola's next chapter begins here as a contestant on Dating Deanna, a reality TV series debuting in January by @changingplumbob, where dozens of contestants will compete for the heart of beautiful bachelorette Deanna York.

Hazel lives with the Nesbitt-Gordons for now, so we'll follow her story with Heather and her crew in Sims In Bloom!

This was hardly cozy, but I've written a couple surprise bonus posts for tomorrow/my Christmas Day that are much more fun, and they finish off the reward event with a lot less angst and drama!

NOTE: For the record, I believe in working on a marriage, but Hazel and Nicola's compatibility was awful once Lovestruck patched in. They truly grew apart, not at all together, and didn't have enough desire to put in the work to save their short-lived marriage. Then Hazel met Suri and they were flirty and got along so much better, so I figured she and Nicola might both be happier without each other and they divorced.

While Hazel has a potential someone, I was trying to think about what to do with Nicola when Dating Deanna was announced. I thought this was perfect because now I don't have to plot her next chapter, and if she doesn't win Deanna's heart she'll return with new lore and backstory to write for.

I know she has few fans these days and that's fine! But when she's with the right person and not cheated on (entering a bachelorette competition could really test her), Nicola will put in the work. She's too good and family oriented not to. Hazel, on the other hand, should possibly reckon with why she chose to cheat and not leave...