#BUT i got it out one minute before its no longer christmas. Not that it would have really mattered but i wanted it to say december 25th lol

[kaiwewi]

Their First Villain

Secret Santa gift for @the-modern-typewriter Prompt: "Scary villain x hero in a Christmas setting of your [the writer's] choice. Could go spicy, could go whumpy, could go unexpectedly sweet!" Hope you like this! Merry Christmas!! 🎅🎁

“You recognised me,” the villain observes, his tone unnaturally flat. His face betrays no emotion.

“Kinda hard not to, with your…” – the hero tilts their head at where the villain’s magic continues to spread, coiling around their limbs and securely fixing them in place – “…snake thingies?”

The individual tendrils really do vaguely resemble snakes, although the magic in its entirety reminds them more of some writhing alien monster plant from an old Sci-fi B-movie whose title they cannot remember. It’s not a good comparison anyway. The movie hadn’t been scary at all.

They experimentally try to wrestle one of their arms free, but despite the magic’s apparent fluidity, the moment they push or pull in any direction, whatever give appeared to be there all but disappears and they can’t move a millimetre.

“Oh.” The villain’s eyes widen. “You can see it.”

“See it. Feel it. Didn’t expect it to be this hot.”

An awkward pause follows.

They are decidedly not blushing. It’s just warm. All of them is so warm now that the villain’s powers have moulded themselves around the hero like something liquid but alive. Wherever the tendrils touch bare skin – their ungloved hands and that area just above their ankles where their pants don’t quite meet the rims of their boots – the raw energy buzzes, prickles just short of stinging.

They’d been shivering just minutes ago in their much too thin poncho and the not seasonally appropriate Agency office uniform. Well, they still are shivering, just no longer from the cold.

Where the villain’s magic is fever-hot, his scrutiny runs icy.

“You can see it, but not fight it,” he muses. “How curious. The Agency must be understaffed to send their defenceless little office drones out into the field.”

The hero would be glaring if the villain weren’t underscoring the point by pulling his magic tighter with the mere flick of a finger. That small, anxious sound that escapes them in response brings a self-satisfied grin to the villain’s lips.

“It’s Christmas,” the hero says, once the magic has settled again.

The villain raises a brow.

“Most of the regulars are on holiday, Christmas being a time best spent with family … or so I’m told.”

“Yet you are working.”

“Don’t have anyone.” They aren’t technically without family just … Sometimes, family isn’t a place of refuge and welcome. Not a home to turn to for holiday celebrations or company. Some families fashion themselves exclusive clubs with strict rules that refuse or revoke memberships as they please. The hero forces some levity into their tone. “I have nowhere else to be today, so, I’m helping out here.”

The villain chuckles. “Helping is perhaps not what I would call that.”

“Hey, I did recognise you,” they say, defensively.

“And look where that got you.” His smile is sharper than before, meaner. “Am I your first villain? My heartfelt condolences.”

They don’t dignify that with an answer. But the answer is yes. The villains they watched being interrogated through one-way mirrors at HQ don't count.

“Pity,” the villain says with zero warmth, “that you couldn’t just look the other way. What is it with you people that you're always so eager to cause unnecessary conflict.”

“Reporting suspicious behaviour is kind of my job.” It comes out barely above a whisper and carries the distinct cadence of an apology.

“Ah yes, and my mere existence struck you as suspicious behaviour because …”

Admittedly, once they’d recognised the villain, they hadn’t taken the time to consider his appearance beyond the magic he’d been wearing around his shoulders like a particularly weaponizable scarf. The lack of a combat suit in favour of a sleek, dark coat over a woollen jumper and cargo joggers – either an outfit designed to blend in or just what the villain happens to like to wear when he isn’t working – hadn’t registered any more than the total absence of weaponry other than his powers. And while he could have hidden those better, it’s not like he could have simply left them at home.

There hadn’t been time to ponder. It had all happened so fast. Their eyes had met, and a moment later the hero had already been scrambling away from the crowd, past a stall selling mulled wine and into the nearest alley, where they’d scrolled through their contacts with stiff, unfeeling fingers. The villain had caught up with them before they’d managed to call for backup.

Their gaze darts to the remnants of their smashed phone, sprinkled across the muddy snow, mere metres away but entirely useless even if they could reach it.

What if the villain hadn’t had anything nefarious planned? What if the hero’s brain had naturally jumped to the most prejudiced conclusion all on its own?

Of course, it is unfair to treat his mere presence as if it is a crime. But the things he could do ...

They think about the parents with their cameras, filming their ice-skating children, the squealing toddlers on the merry-go-round, the nice old ladies selling tea out of the back of a car.

“You could be a danger to all those innocent people,” they defend their judgement.

“And you could be a danger to me,” the villain replies coolly. “Would be unwise, letting someone roam free who can pick me out of a crowd with a glance. Perhaps I should thank you for revealing yourself. Very ill-advised. But quite convenient. You were so obvious about it, too.”

He has crossed the distance between them while speaking. Close enough now to reach out and tuck an unruly strand of hair behind their ear with his cold, slender fingers. His other hand settles almost gently on their throat, atop the magic that has slivered around their neck at some point during the conversation.

The tip of a new tendril is in the process of worming its way lower, nestling into the collar of their shirt. It laps against the crook of their neck and they cringe away from the touch as much as the magic allows. It doesn’t hurt. It would be so much easier if it did. The touch is light; it kind of tickles and, given the overall direness of the situation, the hero really isn’t in the mood for that. Or, they shouldn’t be.

Unhelpfully, their traitorous mind supplies them with a thoroughly inappropriate image of what else someone who isn’t the enemy could be doing to them with magic such as this.

“Tell me,” the villain says as the power shifts upwards, tilting their chin back with the movement, so his nails can bite into the newly exposed skin below their jaw, “is there anything else troublesome about you, or is it just the eyes?”

He looks most pleased when their breath hitches despite their best efforts to remain stoic. His grip tightens. He’s studying them intently, staring at their eyes like those are priced gems he considers adding to his collection.

Maybe, underneath the mockery, he actually does consider them somewhat of a threat. If he didn’t, why would he be looking at them like that.

It’s stupid, truly and utterly stupid, to feel flattered. This is not respect, they know, just sharp, calculating consideration. His attention promises imminent danger, might turn lethal at any second. It’s not something they should revel in. Still, it feels good, too – being seen.

Has anyone ever really seen them before?

Or perhaps that is the lack of oxygen speaking.

They struggle to focus their vision but all the twinkling Christmas lights in the trees are starting to smudge into dull, red and golden blurs. Vertigo is clawing at them.

There is absolutely nothing they can do against the villain's grip. They're so pitifully out of their depth.

They think about their bland, only half-furnished two-room apartment; their first day at the Agency HQ; their nth day – no more eventful than the first – sitting at the exact same desk in the exact same office and working on the exact same old computer; their colleagues’ looks of pity when their 14th application for a transfer to field work is being denied and their boss tells them, in stern admonishment, that their skill sets just aren’t suited to solo missions. They think about her condescending smile when she finally does assign them the Christmas market job, clearly convinced the worst thing that could possibly happen here is people getting drunk enough on punch to start throwing punches.

They think of their first split-second impression of the villain as just another guy standing by the ice rink with a cup of something steaming in his hands and a mellow, unguarded smile curving his lips.

They hope this montage doesn’t count as their life flashing before their eyes. It’s way too sad a summary of their depressing lack of accomplishments.

They think, with equal parts age-old bitterness and new-found sarcastic vindication, about their colleagues’ infantile, unofficial, end-of-the-year office rankings where flashier heroes with more impressive abilities always receive titles such as most likely to hook up with a hot reporter or most epic battle or best one-liners.

Meanwhile, all the hero has to show for are three consecutive wins of least likely to die on the job.

Which might have been a reassuring sentiment if it weren’t so clearly code for “you’ll never be a real hero”. Real heroes risk their lives on the job all the time.

Well, look at them now!

Will their colleagues manage to come up with a new title for them in time, they wonder, if the villain kills them now, just a week before this year’s poll results will be released?

Most unexpected death has a nice ring to it.

They should be trembling in terror. Might have, if the villain’s magic weren’t encasing them so – tight but soft and deceptively warm, lulling them in. The sticky heat of it leaves them squirming, stuck in a confusing limbo between gooey not-quite-discomfort and hot-bath sluggishness.

They’re drifting. Until they’re not.

It’s impossible to discern how much time has passed or when exactly the villain has released them; but their thoughts are beginning to clear and their brain catches up to the fact that there is air in their lungs again, and that the breathless, hiccuping gasps uncontrollably tumbling out of their mouth aren’t sobs. It’s laughter.

“Are you enjoying this?” The villain sounds incredulous.

They shake their head. “I don’t know,” they manage, between hysterical giggles. “Maybe. Yes?”

“How did you know I wouldn’t kill you?”

“I didn’t.”

That startles a short laugh out of him.

“I’ve never” – they pant, still struggling for air – “felt this alive before.”

“That sounds ... unhealthy.”

There is a long pause in which the villain silently stares at them while they are more or less regaining control over their breathing.

“You wouldn’t get it,” they say then, perfectly aware they must seem most unhinged. “Bet you don't even know what boredom is. Because your life is fun. Mine is not. I practically live at my stupid job, and my stupid job doesn't even pay well. No one there gives a fuck about me. And nothing exciting ever happens. So can I please just have this one damn moment without being judged?”

The villain hums, low. “And here I thought we were ruining each other’s days.” He presses a hand to their forehead. “Did the heat fry your synapses?” he asks, sounding more amused than concerned. His other hand comes up to cup the nape of their neck, as if he can’t help but reach out. Just as they can’t help but lean into the cooling touch. His gaze drops, as if drawn, to their lips. “Or, are you just naturally this unusual?”

They can smell gingerbread and mulled wine on his breath.

“Are you going to kiss me?” they ask, because yes their synapses are definitely fried and they do not care about consequences, awkwardness, or sanity anymore.

“Would you like me to kiss you?”

“I’d certainly much rather be kissed than killed. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he repeats, smirking. “But we've established I’m not about to kill you. And that wasn’t a yes.”

“It’s not a no either.”

“Not how consent works, darling.”

They scoff. “You didn’t ask for consent first when you strangled me five minutes ago.”

The villain laughs again, in genuine delight judging by how his magic ripples and purrs.

“Okay, fair enough,” he whispers, shifting so his lips almost brush theirs.

The kiss that follows is sweet, surprisingly chaste, and initiated by the hero.

“So, since you mentioned earlier you have nowhere else to be today,” the villain says, afterwards, mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Have you ever had the pleasure of being kidnapped?”

Pleasure, as it turns out over the course of the next few hours, is an understatement.

If anyone at the office were to find out what the hero has been up to during their first (and best) and possibly only solo field mission, not only are they guaranteed to get fired, their colleagues will also surely create an entirely new office ranking category in their honour:

First to be seduced by a supervillain.

[gejo333]

Under the Mistletoe with You

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: Enjoying the holiday market with Miguel.

Enjoy!🎄

Wc: 1.2k

————————————————————————

You breathe warm air into your hands, trying to keep them warm as your worn-out gloves are not helping. You happily listen to the holiday tunes playing, people watching in Columbus Circle at the holiday market, and feeling jittery from the cold and the butterflies in your stomach waiting for Miguel to arrive. It has been over two months since your first date, and everything has been perfect. Even though neither you have declared to make it official, you have high hopes of it leading in that direction soon.

A sense of comfort and warmth washed over you as strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into a broad chest. You felt a pair of lips against your cheek as he gave you a hello kiss.

You turn around in his embrace as you get on your toes and return the sweet gesture on his lips. "Hi, mi amor. I'm sorry I was running a few minutes late. I hope you weren't waiting for me too long in the cold."

Your cheeks redden from what he called you. He had never called you anything except your name before now. You notice the grin on his face as he notices your reaction to his words.

"No worries. I only got here a few minutes ago. But I didn't realize how cold today would be, so I'm a little underdressed."

You notice his concern as he takes your hands in his large hands and blows hot air into them to help keep you warm. He frowns when he notices your worn-down gloves.

"How about we go to one of those igloo tables at the bar to warm up? I reserved one for us. And then we can walk around and look at the shops?"

"Sounds perfect!"

He smiled as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders to keep you warm as you headed to the bar.

As soon as you entered the igloo, you were relieved to be wrapped up in the heater's warmth.

"Feeling a bit warmer?" He smiled as he sat down next to you and brought his chair closer to you.

"Much warmer. It feels nice. Thank you, Miguel." You lean forward and kiss his cheek in thanks, but immediately, his fingers gently move your chin as his lips meet yours. Once you pulled away, you couldn't help but feel your heart pound out of your chest as you saw his loving and slightly lustful gaze with a wide, happy grin.

After stealing a few more kisses from each other, you choose your drinks as Miguel goes back outside to get them.

It took him a bit longer to get your drinks, which worried you, but your relief rushed through you once you saw him come back with them. When he entered, you noticed a small bag hanging from his wrist. Sitting down, he passed the bag to you with a happy expression.

You return his smile with an added confused expression. "What's this?"

"I saw something at a stand while waiting for our drinks and wanted to buy it for you." You smile as you open the box to reveal beautiful black leather gloves. Your heart glowed from his sweet gesture. You put them on and were instantly comforted by the soft cashmere against your skin. 

"I love them, Miguel. They're beautiful. Thank you." You give him a kiss, which he happily returns.

After sharing sweet sayings and catching up about each other's day, you decided to leave the warmth of the igloo tent and enter the slight chaos of the Christmas market.

One of the first stalls you visited was handcrafted ceramic china from Spain. A row of colored bowls caught your eye as you stared at them in awe. After checking the price of one bowl, your excitement lowered when you realized how expensive one bowl was. You still had to buy gifts for your family and friends. And Miguel. With how tight money has been lately, you knew getting it wouldn't be wise. You sighed sadly as you set the bowl gently back in its place before thanking the store owner and leaving.

"Everything ok?" Miguel looked at you with concern as you saw your slight frown. You smiled up at him in reassurance. "Yeah, I am. I was just a little bummed that those bowls were so expensive. They were so cute. Maybe I can get them next year if the shop is here again."

As soon as you finished your sentence, you were whisked back to the booth by him as he was holding your hand. You stood there dumbfounded as Miguel told the shopkeeper that he wanted to buy one of the bowls in every color you liked: four different bowls. When you came to your senses, you walked right up to Miguel's side.

"Oh, Miguel, you don't need to buy these for me. I'll be ok. You don't need to spend any more on me."

"Nonsense. You liked these bowls. And I want to buy them for you. Especially if I get to see that amazing smile that captures my heart." Miguel handed the shop owner his credit card before smiling lovingly at you.

"How did I get so lucky finding such an amazing man like you?" You wrap your arm around his bicep and hug him. You get on your toes and kiss his cheek.

Miguel leaned down to whisper in your ear."I'm the one who got lucky in finding someone as perfect as you."

As you walked around more of the market, a random man in an elf costume shouted happily at the two of you. "Pucker up, love birds. You're under our surprise mistletoe!"  

You and Miguel stop before looking up and seeing the over-the-top mistletoe hanging above your heads. You look back at each other as your cheeks redden from Miguel's smirk.

"I guess we should appease the elf." He chuckled.

"I guess we should." You giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck. Miguel wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against his warm chest before capturing your lips into a sweet, loving kiss.

When your lips separated only centimeters apart, he said, "I love you, y/n."

Your eyes widen in surprise at his words, and your smile widens before you capture his lips again and say, " I love you, too."

3 years later

You chuckled at the framed photo of the two of you from that day at the Christmas market on the bookshelf. Then, you glanced at the adjacent picture from your wedding day, captured just two months ago.

You felt strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against a warm body as you felt lips on your neck.

"Dinner is almost ready. Can you help me with bringing the dishes to the table?" He mumbled against your neck as he kissed you.

"Of course." You giggle at him, tickling your neck with his stubble. As you walk toward the kitchen, Miguel grabs you by the waist and stops you right under the doorway as he points up. You look up to see a mistletoe in the middle of the doorway's frame. You smile at him with an arched brow as he sends you a mischievous smirk before dipping you and giving you a passionate kiss.

"Merry Christmas, mi amor."

————————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed it!🎄

[storiesfromafan]

Heart Felt Gifts - Benny x Reader

A/N: so its Christmas Eve for me right now. I have gifts to wrap but I've chosen to write instead 😅

I thought a cute Christmas fic was in order. And in true fashion, this little idea came to me while in the shower lol.

Now I have to wrap presents, before finishing my Mattheo Christmas fic haha.

Warning: fluff, cute nonsense 😅

Words: 1428

You weren’t one for being woken up, but having a strong set of arms wrapping around you, and being pulled against a firm body. Your back to their chest, and you knew exactly who the body was; Benny Cross. The most delicious mix of a moan and a groan came from Benny as he buried his face against the back of your neck. Seems he had just woken up too.

You stretched lightly, placing a hand over one of his arms that held you securely. You might not like being woken up but every time Benny stays over, and wakes up to hold you close, you could definitely wake up like this without an issue. Benny squeezed you once more loosening his hold on you, as he moved his face back.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart" his morning voice pleasantly greeted your ears.

You smiled, turning in his arms so you could face the gorgeous Vandal. “Merry Christmas”. And you pecked his full lips.

Of course Benny moved in, chasing your lips for another kiss – a longer kiss. You playfully fled his advances with a giggle, but eventually gave into him. Tender and lazily Benny kissed your lips, the both of you enjoying this sweet moment. You both laid there, wrapped around the other for some time. Just talking, sharing stories and laughing.

Finally you did get up, putting on your robe and slippers, you told Benny you’d put some coffee on. He made a noise of acknowledgement, and you then slipped out from the room. Reaching the kitchen you moved around getting the coffee brewing, and putting the pot under the machine. When it was ready it began to drip into the pot. You took that time to get two coffee cups, along with milk and sugar.

Benny entered the kitchen just as you’d finished make your cups up. He kissed your cheek before taking the offered cup. You took a cautious sip, savouring the liquid and hoping it would help get you through the day. Benny was doing the same. You then took a hold of his hand, leading him back into the lounge room. Sitting on the couch together, you put down your coffee and sat back, getting comfy up against Benny’s side as he put an arm around you.

You put on the TV, finding something Christmassy to watch, though it was more background noise. As Benny seemed to just enjoy having you close. His hand would graze up and down your arm, the pads of his fingers lightly brushing against your skin. He’d kiss your cheek or neck, just for the fun of it. Another perfect moment.

“This is the perfect morning" you sighed, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I got ya a little something".

With that you slipped out of Benny's strong arms and moved to your small tree nearby. Picking up a small red box with green tartan ribbon. Joining Benny back on the couch, you sat with your legs under you and offered him the gift. Looking at the gift, to you and then back to the box, he was speechless. You moved the box a little closer to him, saying it’s his.

Cautiously Benny took the offered gift in his hand. He felt the weight and it wasn’t that heavy. Bringing it to his lap, Benny continued to look at your gift. All the while you watched him. And after a few minutes you began to think a gift wasn’t a good idea, as he didn’t seem excited about it.

“I-it’s alright if ya don’t want to open it now, maybe later" you stated moving your legs out from under you and taking a sip of your cooling coffee.

Benny looked to you, hearing how your voice had changed. As well as seeing how deflated you were. Sitting up quickly, he grasped your gift in both hands. “I’m gonna open it now, baby”.

He pulled one of the ends of the bow, it came undone without a fuss. Removing the ribbon and lid, Benny was greeted to white tissue paper. Moving it out of the way what greeted him surprised Benny. There in the delicate white paper was a new pair of leather riding gloves. Reaching out, Benny ran his finger tips over the cool material. A small smile working its way onto his face. A thoughtful gift, from his thought girl.

You watched with baited breath when he had said he would open it. You were nervous, not knowing if he would like the gloves. As you’d seen his well-worn ones every time you rode with him, and thought it might be time for a new pair. You released the breath you’d been holding when you saw that smile on his face.

He likes it, thank God!

Turning to you, Benny leant in for a big kiss. “Thanks sweetheart. I love ‘em".

You giggled and smiled, heart light and absolutely over the moon. “I am so glad! I was nervous you wouldn’t like them...”

Pulling you in for a hug and another kiss. Benny whispered how much he loved them. And how sweet, caring and thoughtful you were. I don’t know how I ended up with you he had commented, just adding to your joy. Glad to hear him being so vocal. But then, while tucked in his arms, Benny seemed to freeze. Like he was suddenly unsure about something. Then it hit you, maybe Benny hadn’t gotten you anything. And that was fine, you didn’t expect a gift after a month of being together. When it came to your gift, it was just a spur of the moment thing when you saw them.

“It’s alright if you didn’t get me anything” you said suddenly. “I didn’t expect anything, really. Just happy to be with ya right now". And you gave him a big, bright smile to show him you weren’t upset.

Benny shook his head. “Nuh...I got ya somethin’...”

He then put the box down on the floor and headed over to his jacket, which was hanging by the door. From his pocket Benny seemed to retrieve something. You noted it couldn’t have been a big gift, not that you were expecting a large gift. Whatever he gives you, you would appreciate it. As it was from him. That he had thought of you when he picked it out.

Falling back down next to you, Benny hesitated before holding out a tiny box. It was green and had no bow, which meant he hadn’t shopped anywhere fancy. Taking the tiny box in your hand, you looked to Benny once more, who seemed to be shy and embarrassed. But why? What was in this box that had him acting like this. Surely it couldn’t be a curtain kind of ring, right?

With that thought in mind, nervously you opened the box with a shaky hand. Upon seeing the contents you sighed, relieved to not see an engagement ring. But what lay in there confused you. Between your finger and thumb, you picked up the contents and held it up while looking to Benny. He had gifted you a men’s ring, like one of the ones he wore.

“Ah, I know it’s the thought that counts...but” – you tried it on your pointer finger, which was your thicker finger, and it was still too big – “this ring is too big, and is a man’s ring...”

Benny chuckled. “I know, baby" he removed the ring from your finger. “It’s mine". He flashed the finger it had previously sat on.

Now you were even more confused. But then Benny moved his hand to the box you still held, pulling out a silver chain that you hadn’t seen. He then proceeded to undo the clasp, slipping the ring on the chain and then leant around you to clasp it behind your neck. It fell down under your collar bone, resting there like it had always been there.

“I’d gotten the chain so ya could wear my ring around your neck" he stated, looking at the ring before back to your eyes. “My girl should have somethin' of mine to wear, right?”

When Benny’s words washed over you, your brain registering what he’d said, the brightest smile crossed your face. Eyes lighting up with joy. You launched yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck while you crawled into his lap. You showered him with kisses, making Benny laugh. Being – officially – Benny’s girl was the best Christmas present you could get. And you had his ring to prove it to anyone who wouldn't believe you.

[buwheal]

Merry (Kris)mas

[marvelstoriesepic]

Whumpcember (day 15)

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Prompt: Broken glass

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: slight mentions of panic attacks; crying; Bucky being a sweetheart because I love him so much

Author’s note: This got unnecessarily long somehow. Again, this was meant to be a shorty. Also, I was in my feels when I wrote this. Anyway, thank you for reading!

Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist

The final box of Christmas decorations thuds to the ground as you let it down with a heavy huff. You straighten up your back with a grimace, rolling your shoulders.

You might think as an Avenger, carrying a few boxes, would be an easy task. After all, you are trained to thrive under the most punishing conditions, with sharp skills and boundless stamina. But after hauling all those cartons stuffed with tinsel, garlands, and ornaments up from the storage room to the towering Christmas tree in the compound’s common area, you are left panting like you’ve just run a marathon.

It’s almost laughable. Thankfully, you are alone for now. Sam would have a field day, smug grin plastered across his face at the state you’re in.

Wanda, Natasha, and Clint meant to help you with this but they were all still glued to the desk, writing reports, but Bucky is supposed to be back from his latest mission any minute now and you wanted to do this nice thing for him at least. He did sound a little worn out on the phone earlier when he called you to tell you they were on their way back.

So perhaps decorating the Christmas tree would lift his spirit a tiny bit. It’s the first step in what you hope will be a cozy and inviting scene - something Bucky might walk into and, for once, not feel like a soldier returning from a war zone but a man coming home.

The tree is a statement, of course. Tony insisted on it. It’s so tall, it might even brush the high ceiling of the room and there is no way you’ll get some ornaments all the way up without risking your life. And Bucky would definitely not brighten up if you tried it out.

So you’ll absolutely be needing Wanda’s help sooner or later. With a flick of her wrist, she could make this whole thing a hell of a lot easier but you don’t have the time to wait until she is done writing her report.

You let your eyes roam over the many ornaments lying neatly in the box before you and one of them immediately sparks your attention. Your fingers brush against the delicate surface of the red ornament placed almost carefully beside the others.

Its glass is smooth and cool, the color a deep crimson so much more in depth than all the others. You hold it up to the light, turning it slowly, marveling at how the glow from the tree’s string lights catches on its curves and the unique and detailed pattern all across.

It’s heavier than expected, the weight surprising for something so fragile. The gold clasp at the top gleams faintly, tarnished just a little with age. A thin ribbon dangles from it, curling at the end like it has been tied and untied countless times.

There is something about it, some intangible quality that draws you in - a sense of history, of significance.

And then it happens.

The ribbon slips from your grasp, too quick for your fingers to snatch it back. If you weren’t so enamored with the beautiful piece, you would have gotten access to your reflexes a little earlier.

It’s too late now though, and you can only watch in stunned silence as the ornament tumbles to the ground, the crimson surface catching flashes of light as it falls.

It hits the hardwood floor with a sound that is both sharp and final - a crack, then a splintering.

Disappointed in yourself, you crouch down to the shattered remains. Tiny shards of glass fan out like a constellation, glinting under the glow of the tree. The ornament is no longer whole, splintered into different-sized fragments.

Annoyed that you were so stupid and careless to let this special ornament fall to its devastation, you begin to pick up the many red pieces into your palm.

It really was unique. It would have looked great on the tree-

Your movements freeze. Your heart leaps to your throat. A rush of panic claws at your chest and rises up to your ears where it floods and pounds tremendously.

Rebecca B.

It’s a name ingrained into the largest surviving piece of the glass - a faint, looping scrawl. Clearly written by hand.

Rebecca Barnes. The realization makes you weak in the knees and you fall back onto your heels, your ass hitting the floor with a thump.

This isn’t just some random ornament. This isn’t another piece of holiday cheer to hang on a tree and forget about for the rest of the year after packing it back into boxes to store it in a corner of the storage room.

This ornament belonged to Rebecca Barnes. Bucky’s sister. Something Bucky kept all these years, hidden among the other decorations like a relic of a life he’d lost long before his own had been ripped apart.

The air around you feels heavy. The smell of pine from the tree now stings in your nose. Your heart might actually have fallen along with the ornament because it too is shattered in pieces.

The shards tremble in your palm and you stare at them along with the rest still lying helplessly on the ground, as if there is actually something you can do right now to go back in time and not pick it up ever again, just to make sure.

But there is nothing you can do.

Your heart breaks even further at the thought that Bucky might have put it here deliberately. Maybe it was an attempt to move forward, to share the memory of his sister. Maybe he thought the ornament didn’t belong in some dusty package hidden away, but out in the open, a part of the holiday warmth he’s been so hesitant to feel. Maybe it was his thought of remembering her with someone else this time, instead of alone.

This would be such a huge step for him. And you would feel so proud if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack.

Because it’s broken, divided into so many pieces. You just dropped something so carelessly that probably meant the world to Bucky. And, god, did he deserve the world. But you took it. You contorted the precious memories of his little sister. Unwillingly, of course. But that doesn’t make you feel any better right now.

You have known Bucky for a few years now. Though knowing him feels like a word too shallow for what you share. You never labeled it, both of you walking the fine line, and never crossing it.

But you see that Bucky trusts you - the kind of trust he doesn’t hand out freely. And for good reason, after all. In fact, you’re not even sure he’s ever given it to anyone else in quite the same way, not even Steve. And that’s saying something.

You see it in the small things, in the way his guarded demeanor softens when it’s just the two of you, the soft smiles that seem to be reserved for you. It’s the kind of friendship where silence doesn’t have to be filled, and words don’t have to be spoken to be understood.

He lets you sit with him on the couch in the living room on nights when his past pulls him under and doesn’t allow for him to get some shut-eye. You are usually awake yourself, sometimes just running on adrenaline after coming home from a mission and accompanying him silently. He always seems to linger out here when you are away on a mission anyway, so you usually meet him here after getting home, watching his shoulders slowly droop and his back rest more comfortably against the back of the couch.

You are the first at his bedside when his nightmares claw at his mind. You’ve seen him at his most vulnerable - shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked chest, hair plastered to his face, his breaths coming in uneven gasps as you help him fight to pull himself out of his memories.

Those nights, you never push him to talk. You don’t ask him to explain or tell you what he saw. Without a word, you would hand him a glass of water and wait while he drinks, his hands trembling so slightly it makes your stomach feel heavy every time. Sometimes you tell him to breathe with you, in and out, until the panic subsided and his shoulders stopped shaking.

You were never sure how much touch he needs in those moments so you usually stay at a small distance from him, but it seems your presence alone does wonders.

When he would be ready, he always searched your face so long and intensely, before croaking out a heavy but meaningful “Thank you.”

And his small acts of kindness always fill you with a jittery feeling that makes your knees weak and unfortunately doesn’t help at all when fighting against Natasha in the ring.

Just a few weeks ago, Bucky spent an entire Saturday afternoon fixing the squeaky hinge on your bedroom door because he heard you muttering to Wanda about how annoying it was.

He never even told you he was going to do it. You just came back to your room later that evening to find the door silent as a ghost. It took a whole week for you to find out how this happened. And it wasn’t him, who told you. It was Clint, who saw him walk around with a toolbox and a satisfied smile on his face that Clint, as he told you found a little terrifying.

Additionally, he always seems to know when you need a break during training sessions, tossing you a water bottle before you even realize how tired you are. Or he would plant himself wordlessly between you and your opponent for the day, with his arms crossed and a chastising glance at you when you’ve been fighting for hours without acknowledging the way your movements already grew sluggish and wobbly.

You are always aware when his hands linger on your shoulder a second longer after a sparring match, his metal fingers cold but careful, as if he’s memorizing the feel of you there. Or the way your stomach twists when he catches your eye across the room, and for just a moment, it’s like the rest of the world falls away. And the way he talks to you, even when people are around, his voice lower, softer, words chosen with an almost uncharacteristic care, makes you feel like you’re the only person he truly is interested in talking to. You also love the nights he shows up at your door with takeout, wordlessly handing you your favorite meal, and striding into your room to settle at the foot of your bed with a contented sigh.

Through it all, however, was always this persistent question you had. The one that molded into an ache inside your chest. Because what if? What if you took one step closer and stopped holding back? What if you risk everything you have with him now for something more?

But right now you feel like those questions don’t hold the same energy anymore. The same weight. No, they just got weightless. Pointless. Because you just ruined everything without even risking it.

You just destroyed something that can’t be fixed with glue and an apology. It can’t be fixed with you sitting with him and comforting him in the dark while his mind goes to the same cruel place like many times before.

This feels like you’ve crossed a line you can’t uncross.

The wrong line.

Shaking hands pick up the largest fragment, the soft loops of her name still visible through the fractures. The sharp ends bite into your palm like the memory of something sacred that’s been lost. You don’t feel the sting. You don’t feel the sensation of the few droplets of blood sliding over your palm where the ends nicked your skin.

The only thing you register is that this foolish mistake might actually unravel everything you’ve built with him.

He let you in, further than anyone, but that doesn’t mean he won’t push you back out if you give him a reason. And this definitely feels like a reason.

Your mind presents you with his reaction when he comes walking in here and sees what happened.

At first, there’d be nothing - just the stoic silence he uses to sink into, the kind that makes it impossible to tell what he’s thinking. But you’d see it in the smallest of things - the way his jaw tightens just enough to be noticeable, the flicker in his eyes that he’ll try to hide but won’t be able to, the stiffening of his shoulders. And then the desolation, like a tide pulling back just before it crashes. You wonder if he would say anything at all, or if the silence would hang heavy.

You swallow hard, begin to feel the sting behind your eyes, and try to force the lump in your throat down.

You’ve worked so hard to be someone he could rely on, someone he could trust in ways he hasn’t trusted anyone else in decades. You’ve sat with him, listened to him, stayed silent with him. Learned to know him so well, you even memorized the subtle shifts in his expressions, the things he won’t say but still lets you feel.

And now, here you are with broken glass in your hands and a painful feeling in your chest, terrified that this could be the moment that shatters the thing between you.

He might pull away, retreat behind those walls he’s spent years building. What if he doesn’t let you sit with him anymore. Or what if he does, but his shoulder would only grow more tense. What if he starts holding back, measuring his words, locking the parts of himself away that he once entrusted to you?

The idea of losing him - not just losing him, but losing this connection, this unspoken, almost-more-than-friendship thing that you’ve both been too afraid to name - makes your breath catch and something rise in your chest that might be bile.

A sob comes out instead.

It comes out like a wound ripped open before it could begin to heal. You press a quivering hand to your mouth, in hopes of muffling the sound, but it’s no use. More broken sobs come anyway.

You try to pull yourself together, to force the tears back, but your body feels so weak under the guilt and shame.

More parts of the broken ornament bite into your skin, red droplets welling up and sliding down your skin, pooling at the curve of your wrist, before falling soundlessly to the floor.

Pain should ground you. It should pull you out of this spiral, force you to snap back to some semblance of control. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t do anything at all.

Instinctively, your hand gives way, the pieces tumbling from your fingers and scattering across the hardwood once more.

You only sit there, frozen, your breath hitching and catching in your throat as tears streak down your face, warm and unwelcome. You can’t stop them.

You’re not supposed to be this weak. You’re not supposed to break down like this, over something so small. And yet that makes the sobs only harder to contain. Because this isn’t small - not to Bucky. And that’s the part that leaves you as shattered as the crimson glass. Perhaps as shattered as your relationship with the person you fell for as hard as the ornament fell to the ground.

It’s Rebecca. His sister. His past. His grief. It’s a tiny piece of his life that he trusted enough to bring out of hiding, to put here with the rest of the world, in the open where it could be seen. Where it could be touched. And you touched it, only to let it fall. Only to ruin it.

Shame knocks down on you so hard, you draw your knees up to your chest, curling into yourself as though you could make yourself smaller, invisible, anything but this.

You don’t even know what to do with your blood-streaked palm, only letting it hover in the air, the shallow cuts glistening under the still-glowing lights of the tree. It’s a mess. You are a mess. Curling your fingers into a fist, you wince in pain at the stinging of the cuts but you leave it like that.

Perhaps you are overreacting, sitting here on the floor in the common area of the compound with a bleeding hand and the shattered remains of Rebecca Barnes's memory, but you feel so helpless and remorseful, you can’t really think straight at the moment.

The sound of the elevator is faint, but it’s enough to reach your ears. You freeze. You just sit there, knees drawn to your chest, blood smeared across your palm, the shattered glass of the ornament glittering like broken stars on the floor.

You are tear-streaked, trembling, your chest still hitching with uneven breaths and Bucky just got home.

Those approaching footsteps are so familiar to you, you would always recognize his gate. Usually, it’s comforting, grounding to know he got home and would leave you with relief in your chest.

But there is no place for relief in your chest right now.

His footsteps sound normal, steady, perhaps a little hurried but he hasn’t reached this room yet.

You don’t look up. Instead, you bite your lip to stop the sob that threatens to escape. The shame is too sharp, cutting deeper than any piece of the ornament and making your heart bleed as well.

Maybe if you stay still, if you stay quiet, he’ll miss you somehow.

But then his steps come to an abrupt halt and you know you are screwed.

Burning tears spike once more and the sob breaks free.

“Woah, hey-” he calls out, so urgent, so worried.

Bucky is across the room in a heartbeat, dropping to his knees in front of you with a speed that catches you off guard.

“Sweetheart, hey.” It falls from his lips so softly, so worried, it nearly breaks you all over again.

Tears fall more freely at the kind of tenderness in his tone and suddenly his hand is cupping your face, thumb, and knuckles brushing the streaks of wetness from your cheeks.

But they keep coming.

“Look at me, please! Doll, look at me,” he murmurs, his voice impossibly gentle, but dripping with so much concern. His metal hand is on your face as well and he tilts it upward, guiding your gaze toward his.

His brows are drawn so deeply, lips parting slightly as he studies your face - the tear tracks, the desolation in your eyes, the shame and guilt, the trembling of your shoulders.

You can’t look at him. Can’t bear to see it. So you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’ll ever be able to forget that look on his face. Not when you know what’s coming. Not when you know what you have caused.

Just wait until he sees it, you think. That look will change.

“No,” he whispers, his voice so soft again, but there is a firmness in it. The pad of his flesh thumb smooths gently across your cheek again, while his metal fingers move to your hair. “Hey, no, don’t do that. It’s okay. Y/n, it’s okay!”

You shake your head quickly and try to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a choked sound, half-sob, half-breath. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He doesn’t know what this is about.

You want to stay hidden behind the veil of your closed eyes, safe from not seeing what you know will be there in perhaps seconds when he figures it out - disappointment, maybe anger, the grief of what you’ve broken.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart, please.”

There is something in his voice you can’t ignore. It sounds unshakable and steady, yet fragile and thick.

Slowly, reluctantly, your eyes flutter open to meet his, but when you do, you freeze.

Because he already knows.

He looks at you. Just looks, but you see he already put the pieces together. He saw the shards scattering around your knees. His expression is softer than you’ve ever seen it but he looks at you with an intensity that is new to you. There is that understanding in his eyes. But it’s so soft. So gentle.

There is no anger, no frustration, no disappointment.

There is nothing of the reaction you had feared for.

Yes, there is pain in his eyes as well. It’s unmistakable, flickering in the soft blue of his irises. But it’s not the pain you expected.

It’s not for the ornament. It’s not for what it meant.

It’s for you.

You can see it in the way his brows crease, the frown that tugs at his mouth. And the way he never once lets his gaze stray to the shards on the floor. All he looks at is you.

Bucky keeps his hands on your face, continuing to swipe over your cheeks like he’s afraid you’ll crumble if he lets go. Then, his thumbs still, resting against your cheekbones, his touch so achingly gentle that it only makes more tears fall.

“Sweetheart,” he says again, and the word cracks, quiet and uneven. He still doesn’t look angry. He still doesn’t look disappointed. He looks devastated - not for what you’ve done, but for what it’s done to you.

Your lips tremble, barely able to form words.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Come here.”

Baby definitely is a new one. It’s something he’s never called you before. But there is no time to linger on it, no chance to unpack the flutter it sparks in your stomach because he’s already pulling you toward him.

His flesh arm wraps around your body, tugging you against his chest, while his metal hand finds its place at the back of your head, cold but reassuring fingers threading through your hair.

He lets you cry against his chest. Cradles you so tightly to him, you might actually get worried about your ribs, but it feels so good. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, his heart is pounding. The fabric of his tactical suit presses against your skin, rough and worn from the mission he just came back from, but it grounds you to some extent.

“It’s okay. Just breathe, alright? Breathe,” he keeps whispering, exaggerating his breaths against your body to invite you to follow his lead. You try.

“I’m so sorry,” you sob, the words spilling out in a choked, broken rush as you bury your face in his chest. The tears won’t stop, soaking into the dark fabric of his suit.

“Shh,” he keeps on with his soft voice. His arm around you tightens, holding you closer, while his metal hand stays solidly at the back of your head. His fingers brush through your hair in slow, soothing motions. “Don’t be. Don’t you dare be.”

He continues murmuring to you when you try to apologize again, his voice low and warm. He talks so calmly and sure, you feel something inside of you churn.

Bucky tilts his head slightly, resting his cheek against your hair, and you feel the warmth of his breath as he talks to you.

And yet, biting guilt gnaws its way through your ribs. You feel terrible - worse than terrible - because it should be you comforting him, not the other way around.

It’s him who lost something precious, something you had broken. And here he is, holding you, brushing tears from your face, whispering words meant to stitch you back together.

But somehow, he doesn’t even seem to care. He holds you like you are the only thing that matters right now.

Remorse burrows deep, heavy, and shaming, until it pulls you back to yourself - slowly, shakily, but enough to loosen the sobs caught in your throat.

You sniff and take a breath, a real one this time, ragged but yours.

Then, you shift in his arms, gently pressing against his chest to put space between you. His hold loosens, slowly, with a hesitation that tugs at something in you. As if he is reluctant to let you go. Still, he relents.

His flesh hand slides away first, but his metal one lingers, brushing through your hair one last time before settling on your shoulder. He keeps you close, his thumb brushing absentminded sweeps across your sweater.

His gaze never strays and it’s heavy. You can’t meet his eyes for long. They’re too full of that care you don’t deserve, the care he shows you in so many small gestures all the time.

So your gaze falls to the floor, but then you freeze again.

The broken shards that had glinted so mockingly against the floor just moments ago are gone. Instead, settled carefully on the coffee table as though it had never fallen at all, is the ornament.

Whole.

It takes you a moment to process it, to trust what you’re seeing. The cracks are gone, smoothed over seamlessly. The gleaming red glass catches the light of the Christmas tree, its golden little details shining like something out of a memory, timeless and unbroken. As beautiful and aesthetic as before.

For a moment, you even wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you, but then you notice Wanda standing at the far side of the room. Her hands lower slowly, the telltale red glow of her magic fading from her fingertips.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t step closer - just tilts her head slightly, offering you the faintest, knowing smile. Her eyes are warm.

God, of course. You should have thought of that. It even makes you feel a little ridiculous. You live together with people who possess supernatural abilities, powers beyond comprehension. You should have thought of Wanda. How her hands could have mended it back together in seconds.

A choked breath stumbles out of you, somewhere between relief and disbelief. Bucky follows your gaze, his brows furrowing, only to soften when he sees the ornament resting perfectly intact on the table. He stares at it for a moment.

But then he looks back at you and his sweet smile could melt any ice this winter has to offer.

His flesh hand moves a few strands of hair out of your face and tugs them tenderly behind your ear. His hand stays on your cheek. “Told you it’s okay.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I still broke it,” you say, words slipping out quietly, somberly. Your gaze remains fixed on it. Wanda seems to have slipped out again.

“Stop,” Bucky cuts in, his voice more firm than before but still gentle as always. He shakes his head, moving closer to you again, gaze fixed on you.

You feel his hand brush against yours, but then his shoulders stiffen up. He stops. His eyes catch on something and his expression shifts in an instant.

“Jesus-” His frown deepens, something like a shadow crosses his eyes. Sharp eyes lock onto the red streaks lining your palm, the cuts where the shattered glass had broken your skin.

You hadn’t even realized you were still holding onto the pain - too caught up in everything else to notice the dull throb of your hand or the sting of the scratches.

“You’re bleeding. Why didn’t you say anything?” The words are a quiet exhale, soft but weighted. There is no reprimand in his voice, no anger - only concern coloring every syllable.

His thumb ghosts over your wrist, careful not to brush against the cuts. His intense gaze flickers from your injured hand to your face, searching your expression.

“It’s not a big deal-”

“Don’t.”

Bucky shakes his head. His jaw tightens and he exhales sharply through his nose. It’s not frustration - not with you, anyway. It’s something deeper, something that seems to pain him in his chest as he studies the scratches like they’re a personal failing.

“Bucky,” you say while trying to pull your hand back from his grasp when he tilts it more toward the light to get a better look. As if he hasn’t the eyesight of a super soldier.

“Doll. Let me see.” His lips press into a thin line, the faintest hint of exasperation ghosting across his face.

The sigh you let out drags down your chest and you don’t resist when Bucky keeps cradling your bleeding hand and studies the scratches. His brow is furrowed in concentration that feels too much for something so small.

You want to tell him it’s fine, that this is nothing, but the words die before they reach your tongue.

“Let’s get you fixed up,” he says tightly, the tone of his voice all business and leaving no room for argument.

But you shake your head. It’s your fault the ornament broke in the first place. You’re aware it’s whole again, but it was in shambles just moments earlier and you cut yourself thanks to your own stupidity.

“Bucky, you just got back from a mission-” you protest, your voice quieter than you’d like.

“Not too worried about myself right now, doll,” he interrupts, his voice insistent but warm. The hint of steel beneath his words not directed at you but at the way your guilt is still in control, trying to downplay yourself.

“Come on.” He says it softer now, but before you can argue any further, he’s already moving.

Without so much as a pause, Bucky stands and scoops you up into his arms as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You barely have a second to process the shift, before you’re pressed securely against his chest.

“Bucky!” you exclaim, startled, your uninjured hand reaching for his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Relax, doll. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost amused, though his expression remains calm, focused.

You sigh again, but there is a laugh on your breath. “Buck, I can walk. You don’t have to-”

“Not hearing it,” he says simply, almost flatly. He just continues striding along the halls with you in his arms. His steps are heavier, but you know it’s not because of your weight. He holds you like you weigh nothing at all. “You’re hurt.”

That doesn’t sound like a plausible explanation to you, since you’ve come home with way worse injuries from missions over the last months alone. But the gruffness of his voice, the one that always accompanies him when you’re injured, no matter how small - the seriousness, the concern - it shuts you up for the time being.

You let your head rest against his shoulder. He smells a little like gunpowder and dust, but you only latch onto the parts that are him and breathe them in.

“I didn’t mean to break it, Bucky,” to whisper, gaze dropping to the tightly pressed ball that is your bloody fist. “I’m so sorry.”

You feel the intake of Bucky’s breath against your body and his eyes warmly falling down on you. You don’t meet his gaze.

“You didn’t break anything, sweetheart.” His voice is like velvet, brushing so softly against your skin. So reassuringly. So profoundly gentle. “You’re okay, doll. We’re okay. I promise.” His hands curl tighter around you.

You blink, your head tilting to glance up at him, and your breath catches when you meet his gaze.

It is intense. His brows are pulled together - not with anger, but with concern. Like the only things he cares about right now are the tears that linger in your eyes and the way you’re still trying to curl in on yourself, still letting your body slightly shake with the guilt that he refuses to let you carry.

Something stirs in your belly. Something flutters, as if thousands of tiny wings brush against the walls of you, demanding to be seen. To be felt.

Because you let your mind spiral so much earlier, bracing yourself for a reaction of disappointment, frustration - that flicker of something unnameable that might pull the two of you apart.

But it still isn’t there.

Not even close.

It’s the opposite, really.

[hottiesforhockey]

underneath the tree ⎜j.hughes + l.hughes

🎄pairings: jack hughes x afab!reader ⎜luke hughes x afab!reader 🎄genre: christmas special ⎜ romance ⎜ smut 🎄warnings: thigh riding ⎜ heavy petting ⎜ oral (f recieving) ⎜threesome...sorta...kinda? ⎜ there's kind of a hint of something between luke and reader 👀 ⎜luke is sick of the lovesick couple ⎜ luke showing jack how its done ⎜ fingering ⎜ 🎄synopsis: when luke comes home to catch you and his brother up to no good under the christmas tree - he decides to give jack's christmas present to you early. 🎄word count: 7k 🎄authors note:  this is the third post in the christmas special series! and definitely ended up a little longer then anticipated. feel free to check out the others already posted or the other upcoming fics : christmas specials

(unedited)

“You can’t just throw the lights on top of the tree and hope for the best.” You sigh as you snatch the christmas lights from your boyfriend’s hands - demonstrating how to loop them around every branch to get the best coverage. 

“I never thought I’d be the one decorating to be fair - it’s usually Luke’s job.” Jack huffs in return. You roll your eyes as you glance up at the clock in the living room - Luke had promised to be home by eight thirty to help decorate the house for the christmas season, it was almost nine o’clock and he still hadn’t shown up. 

“Have we called him? What if he was in an accident?” You say, Jack waving you off as he continues looping the lights around the tree just like you showed him. 

“He’s fine, he said he was grabbing a few gifts on the way home and he always gets stuck when he goes shopping.” 

“Still, it’s not like him to be this late,” you mutter, biting your lip as you glance at your phone. No messages. No missed calls. A strange unease twists in your stomach, but you shake it off. Luke had a habit of losing track of time when he got into the holiday spirit.

“I’m sure he’ll walk through the door any minute now, arms full of bags and that goofy grin on his face,” Jack says, attempting to reassure you. But even as he speaks, you notice the slight furrow in his brow.

The two of you continue working in silence for a while, the soft hum of Christmas carols on the radio filling the room. The tree starts to come together beautifully—twinkling lights cascading perfectly over the branches, thanks to your precise instruction.

By the time the ornaments are unpacked and ready to go, it’s well past nine-thirty. The unease has grown into a dull throb in your chest. You can’t help but glance out the window every few minutes, hoping to see Luke’s car pull into the driveway.

“Maybe I should try calling him again,” you say, picking up your phone and scrolling to his name in your contacts. Jack pauses, an ornament in hand, and nods.

“Can’t hurt,” he says quietly, his usual teasing tone subdued.

You press the call button and hold the phone to your ear. It rings once, twice, three times before going to voicemail. Frowning, you hang up and try again, only to get the same result.

“He’s not answering,” you say, your voice tighter than you intended.

Jack sets down the ornament and walks over, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. He probably just lost track of time like I said. Let’s give it another half-hour, and if he’s still not back, we’ll go looking for him.”

You nod reluctantly, though the unease refuses to budge. Together, you and Jack hang the first few ornaments on the tree, the joy of decorating dampened by Luke’s absence.

“Maybe we can do something a little more… interesting while we wait.” Jack hints, raising his eyebrows in anticipation as you let out a scoff of laughter surprised but his suggestion. 

“Oh, so this is why you agreed to help decorate,” you tease, raising an eyebrow. Jack grins, leaning casually against the edge of the couch.

“Caught me,” he says with a shrug. “But come on, it’s better than sitting here staring at the clock, isn’t it? We’re just killing time until Luke gets back. Why not make it a little more fun?” You hesitate, glancing at your phone on the table. Luke’s absence still gnaws at the back of your mind, but Jack’s mischievous expression is infectious. Maybe he’s right—what’s the harm in a little distraction?

“All right,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. “What did you have in mind?” Jack’s grin widens. 

“I knew you couldn’t resist. Let’s see... how about we start with a little wager? Whoever hangs the most ornaments in five minutes wins. Loser has to fulfil the other person’s wish.” You laugh despite yourself, already picturing Jack fumbling with ornaments in his rush. 

“You’re on,” you say, grabbing a handful of decorations and heading to the tree. Jack grabs his own pile and sets a timer on his phone. 

“Ready... set... go!” 

The two of you dive into the game, the tension from earlier fading into the background as you race to hang ornaments. Jack’s competitive streak kicks in immediately—he’s practically tossing ornaments onto the branches in his rush, while you focus on keeping yours evenly spaced and stylish.

“Careful,” you warn as Jack tries to hang a bauble too high and nearly knocks the star off the top of the tree. “If you break one, you’re automatically disqualified.”

Jack mutters something under his breath but adjusts his approach, all while shooting you a playful glare. The timer buzzes just as you’re reaching for your last ornament.

“Time’s up!” Jack announces triumphantly, stepping back to admire his handiwork—or rather, lack of it. Half his ornaments are clustered on one side of the tree, dangling precariously.

“Not bad,” you say, fighting back laughter. “If the theme was ‘Christmas chaos.’”

“Hey, it’s about quantity, not quality,” he retorts, counting his ornaments. “Twenty four. Beat that.” You let out a long sigh as you count your ornaments knowing you’re no where close to Jack’s debatable success. 

“Nineteen.” You hiss, your lips forming into a pout - Jack lets out a whoop of joy, leaning forwards to press a soft kiss to your temple as he dances past you. “Okay, Cheater, what’s your wish?” You can’t fight the smile growing on your face as Jack slides up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you against him. 

“I want you to kiss me.” He whispers softly, “Kiss me like you’ve never kissed anyone before.” He continues, his smile growing as he presses a kiss to your neck when you shiver in his arms. 

“You want to make out with me? That’s your wish?” You say tilting your head to give him better access to your sensitive skin, “You could ask me to do all your chores for the week, and instead you ask for a kiss?” 

Jack chuckles softly, his breath warm against your neck. "Chores aren’t nearly as fun, and besides," he murmurs, his lips grazing your skin, "this feels like a much better way to spend the evening." Your heart stutters as his hands slide over your waist, pulling you closer. The twinkling lights from the tree cast a warm glow over the room, but all you can focus on is the way Jack looks at you—like you’re the only thing that matters.

“You’re impossible,” you murmur, tilting your head as his lips press to the hollow of your throat. Your breath hitches at the soft, deliberate pressure. His fingers trace small circles against your lower back, his touch grounding but electric all at once.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he whispers against your skin, his voice low and intimate. “Not stopping me.”

You try to muster some kind of retort, but the words melt away as Jack leans back slightly, catching your gaze. His eyes flicker to your lips, and in that moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist. Slowly, achingly slowly, he leans in, brushing his lips against yours in the lightest, teasing touch.

It’s not enough—not nearly enough.

You close the distance, capturing his mouth in a kiss that’s anything but shy. Jack responds immediately, his hands tightening on your waist as he deepens the kiss, coaxing you into a rhythm that’s both tender and demanding. His lips are warm and soft, his movements deliberate as if savouring every second.

One of his hands slides up your back, threading into your hair, while the other keeps you anchored firmly against him. The heat of his body against yours is intoxicating, and the taste of him—the faint hint of cinnamon from the mulled cider earlier—sends your senses reeling.

Jack shifts, pressing you gently against the edge of the couch as his kisses trail from your mouth to the curve of your jaw, then down the line of your neck. He lingers there, his lips and tongue exploring the sensitive skin, drawing soft gasps from you with every touch.

“Jack,” you manage to breathe, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as if to steady yourself. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his own dark and filled with something that makes your stomach flip.

“What?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Too much?”

You shake your head, your cheeks flushed and your pulse racing. “Not even close,” you whisper, pulling him back into another kiss. This time it’s hungrier, more insistent, the kind of kiss that leaves no room for doubt about how badly you want him. His hands explore your sides, your back, leaving a trail of heat everywhere he touches. Time feels suspended as the two of you lose yourselves in each other, the earlier tension replaced by an overwhelming, magnetic pull.

When you finally part, your breathing is uneven, and your heart pounds in your chest. Jack presses his forehead to yours, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your cheek. “Satisfied?” You whisper into the space between you, Jacks head shaking as he pulls you with him as he falls back onto the couch. 

“Not even close.” He groans, mimicking your words from earlier - his hands gripping your waist as you straddle his thighs. Jack’s lips find your again, his fingers digging into your sides as your hips slowly roll forwards, your arms looping around his neck.

Just as your lips part, Jack’s hands tightening on your waist, the sound of the front door creaking open shatters the moment. You both freeze, heads snapping toward the noise. Luke’s voice echoes through the hallway, laced with a familiar blend of frustration and something that almost sounds... hopeful.

“Why’s it so dark in here? Did you two forget how light switches work, or—oh.”

Luke stops in his tracks as he steps into the living room, his arms full of shopping bags. His eyes lock onto you, perched on Jack’s lap, your faces flushed and breaths uneven. The warm glow of the Christmas lights does little to mask the intimacy of the moment.

For a heartbeat, no one moves. Luke’s gaze flicks between you and Jack, the tension in his posture unmistakable. The bags in his hands crinkle as he tightens his grip, his jaw clenching.

“Luke!” you exclaim, scrambling off Jack’s lap, your cheeks burning. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

“Clearly,” Luke says, his tone sharp, though there’s a slight waver in his voice. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Jack sighs, standing and rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re not interrupting, Luke. Relax.”

Luke’s eyes narrow, his gaze settling on you for a beat longer than comfortable. “Sure doesn’t look that way.”

“Come on, don’t start,” Jack says, his voice firm but not unkind. He steps closer to his younger brother, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re late, and we’ve been trying to finish the tree without you.”

“I can see that,” Luke mutters, shrugging off Jack’s hand. His eyes flick to you again, softer this time, a mixture of longing and hurt flashing across his face before he looks away.

You shift uncomfortably, the weight of the situation settling in. Luke had always been sweet to you—offering to help with chores, finding excuses to spend time around you, and sometimes even going out of his way to get your favourite snacks. At first, you thought it was just him being polite, but over time, it became hard to ignore the lingering looks and the way his face would light up when you smiled at him.

Jack, of course, seemed blissfully unaware of his younger brother’s crush, even teasing him about being “the baby” of the family. 

— or so you thought. 

Now, though, standing in the awkward silence, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Luke’s crush had become more complicated.

“Luke,” you start gently, taking a step toward him. “We were just messing around, trying to make decorating a little more fun. We didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to what?” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’ve ever heard it. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the usual warmth in them is replaced with something raw. “Didn’t mean for me to walk in on you two... like that?”

“Hey,” Jack interjects, stepping between you and Luke, his tone defensive. “Watch it. Don’t take your anger out on her.”

Luke’s mouth snaps shut, but his glare shifts to Jack. “Of course, you’d defend her,” he mutters bitterly, his voice barely audible.

“Because she’s my girlfriend,” Jack says firmly, his hand resting protectively on your back. “And you’re my brother. What’s going on with you, Luke? You’ve been weird for weeks.” Luke lets out a long sigh, dropping his shopping bags to the floor before crossing his arms tightly over his chest. 

“Jack, it’s fine.” You say softly, reaching out for your boyfriends hand, “He didn’t mean any—” 

“Yes he did.” Jack interrupts, “He’s been weird since I asked him to help me with your christmas present.” Jack says scowling at his younger brother. The two Hughes lock in a tense conversation with their eyes - your gaze flicking between the two in confusion. 

“What? What are you talking about?” You question, your gaze settling on your boyfriend. 

“She didn’t even know about it?” Luke sneers at his brother - his eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise as he removes himself from the staring contest with Jack - his gaze sliding over your confused face. 

Jack shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair, his usual confidence faltering. “It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal,” he mutters, avoiding your gaze. “It was just an idea I had for your gift. But Luke... didn’t exactly take it well.”

“Jack,” you say slowly, stepping closer. “What idea? What’s going on?”

Luke crosses his arms tightly over his chest, glaring at his older brother. “Go ahead,” he says, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Tell her. Let her hear this brilliant plan of yours.”

Jack exhales heavily, clearly frustrated. “I thought it would be... meaningful. Special. Something different from the usual gifts,” he begins hesitantly, his eyes flicking toward you before quickly looking away again. “I asked Luke to... spend a night with you. If you wanted to.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, all you can hear is the faint hum of the Christmas lights. You blink, processing what he’s just said. “Spend a night with me?” you repeat, your voice soft but steady.

Jack nods, his cheeks flushing as he finally meets your gaze. “I know it sounds... unconventional. But I wanted to give you something that showed how much I trust you, how much I trust us. You’ve always been close with Luke, and I thought... maybe it could be something we all share. If you’re okay with it.”

Your stomach flutters—not with discomfort, but with intrigue. You glance at Luke, who’s staring at Jack like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, and then back at Jack, whose expression is a mix of vulnerability and nervousness.

“Jack,” you say carefully, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Are you serious?” He nods, his voice firm despite the tension in the room. 

“Only if it’s something you’d want. I’d never push you into anything, and if you’re not into the idea, that’s totally fine. But I thought... maybe.”

Luke lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, running a hand through his hair. “This is insane,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You can’t be serious.”

“I think he is,” you murmur, your gaze still on Jack. His sincerity is unmistakable, and the thought of his trust—and Luke’s involvement—sends a curious warmth coursing through you.

You take a slow step toward Luke, your pulse quickening as his eyes snap to yours. “What about you?” you ask softly. “How do you feel about it?”

Luke’s mouth opens, then closes again as he searches for words. “I... don’t know,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “This isn’t exactly something I ever thought about. And honestly, I’m not sure I believe Jack’s really okay with it.”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t,” Jack interjects firmly, his gaze flicking to his brother. “Look, I know this is weird, but I trust both of you. I love her, and you’re my brother. I thought... maybe this could be something meaningful for all of us.”

Your heart races as you glance between the two brothers, their contrasting expressions—Jack’s cautious hope, Luke’s guarded confusion—only adding to the charged atmosphere. You step closer to Jack, resting a hand on his arm.

“You’re sure about this?” you ask softly, searching his eyes.

He nods, his hand covering yours. “Only if you are. This is about what you want.”

You turn back to Luke, who’s watching you with a mixture of uncertainty and something deeper—something almost longing. “And you?” you ask again, your voice steady despite the nervous energy bubbling inside you. “Would you be okay with it?”

Luke hesitates, his gaze dropping to the floor before slowly returning to yours. “I don’t want to make things weird between us,” he admits. “But if this is really what you both want...” His voice trails off, leaving the unspoken possibilities hanging in the air. You take a deep breath, your decision crystallising as you glance between them. 

“I think...” you begin, a small smile playing at your lips. “I’d like to try.”

Jack exhales, relief washing over his features, while Luke’s expression shifts to one of stunned disbelief.

“Seriously?” Luke asks, his voice cracking slightly.

You nod, stepping closer to him. “Only if you’re okay with it,” you assure him. “But yeah. I think I’d like to see where this goes.”

Luke glances at Jack, as if seeking confirmation, and Jack nods firmly. “She’s serious,” Jack says. “And so am I.” The tension in the room shifts, giving way to something warmer, more electric. As the three of you stand there, the possibilities of what comes next hanging in the air, you can’t help but feel a mixture of excitement and anticipation

Luke exhales slowly, his expression shifting from disbelief to cautious consideration. His eyes flick between you and Jack, the charged silence thickening. Jack steps closer, placing a steadying hand on your back, his touch grounding as he glances at his brother.

“Luke,” Jack says softly, his tone more relaxed now. “This isn’t about pushing boundaries or making things weird. It’s about trust. And... about her.” His gaze moves to you, warm and protective. “If she’s open to it, I am too. And I think, deep down, you’ve been curious too.”

Luke swallows hard, clearly at war with himself. Finally, he nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Alright,” he says, his voice low but steady. “But only if this is what you want.” His eyes lock on yours, his sincerity striking.

You smile softly, stepping forward to close the gap between you and Luke. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” you assure him. Then, turning your head slightly, you glance back at Jack.  The weight of the moment settles over the three of you, the air crackling with an intensity that feels both thrilling and vulnerable. Slowly, you step closer to Luke, the uncertainty in his expression giving way to something warmer. You reach out, your hand brushing against his cheek, and he freezes for a moment before leaning into your touch.

Luke nods slightly, convincing himself that this is really happening, his eyes flicking to Jack’s before returning to yours. He leans forward, hesitating just a fraction before his lips meet yours. The kiss is tentative at first, soft and searching, but it deepens as you respond, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging on the ends of his curls as he pulls your closer to him - his hands knotted in your shirt.

Behind you, Jack’s hands slide down your arms, his touch both reassuring and suggestive. When Luke pulls back, his breathing uneven, Jack presses a kiss to the side of your neck, his lips warm against your skin.

“You okay?” Jack murmurs, his voice close to your ear.

You nod, your breath hitching as you look between them. “Better than okay,” you whisper.

Luke’s expression softens, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “This still feels... surreal,” he admits, his voice tinged with a mix of wonder and hesitation.

Jack chuckles softly, his tone light but teasing. “You’ll get used to it,” he says, his arm sliding around your waist as he pulls you closer to him.  Luke’s lips twitch into a tentative smile, “Yeah,” he says quietly. 

As the three of you stand there, the Christmas lights casting a warm glow over the room, the boundaries between you blur, giving way to something deeper, more intimate. Your gaze snaps away from Luke’s as you both turn to look at Jack who steps away from the two of you. 

“Alright, well I’ll leave you to it.” Jack jokes lightly, clasping his hands together, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He warns his younger brother, whose mouth falls open as his brothers attempted retreat. 

Luke’s hand shoots out, grabbing Jack by the arm before he can leave. “Oh, no, you don’t,” Luke says, his voice low but firm. His grip tightens just enough to make Jack pause. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Jack raises an eyebrow, half amused, half surprised. “What? Thought you’d wanted me out of the way.”

Luke smirks, an edge of confidence creeping into his expression. “Not anymore. You started this, Jack. You don’t get to walk away now.” His words are calm but carry a deliberate challenge that makes Jack hesitate.

You glance between them, your pulse quickening as the tension shifts again, this time carrying a playful undercurrent. “Luke’s got a point,” you chime in, your voice soft but teasing. “You can’t just drop this bomb and then vanish.”

Jack tilts his head, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh, I can’t?” he teases, his tone light but his eyes glinting with something sharper.

Luke steps closer, his grin widening as he stands toe-to-toe with his older brother. “Not unless you’re scared,” he taunts, his voice dripping with mock bravado.

Jack scoffs, rolling his eyes but clearly enjoying the game. “Scared? Of you?” He gestures vaguely in your direction, his grin turning wicked. “I just figured I’d give you two some space. But if you need me to show you how it’s done...” He trails off, shrugging dramatically.  Jack exhales slowly, his gaze locking with yours for a long moment before shifting to Luke.

Luke watches the exchange carefully, his arms still crossed but his posture relaxing. “You sure you’re up for this, Jack?” he asks, his tone teasing but his eyes serious.

Jack smirks, his confidence returning in full force. “Please,” he says, stepping closer to you and sliding an arm around your waist. “I think the real question is—are you?”

Luke lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Cocky as ever,” he mutters, but there’s a warmth in his tone now, a subtle shift in the dynamic between the three of you.

As the Christmas lights twinkle in the background, the room seems to hum with an energy that’s both thrilling and tender. Whatever comes next, you know it’s something none of you will forget.

Luke watches Jack closely, his smirk fading into something softer. “Alright,” he says finally, his voice quieter now, as if he’s surrendering to the moment. “Let’s see if you can back up all that talk.”

Jack chuckles, but it’s less sharp now, his usual cocky confidence tempered by the weight of what’s unfolding. His gaze shifts to you, and he presses a lingering kiss to your temple, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip. “You okay with this?” he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring.

You nod, your heart racing but not from nerves—from excitement. “Yeah,” you say softly. “You two can stop asking me that now.”

Luke steps closer, his hesitance melting away as he mirrors Jack’s careful movements. He brushes a hand along your arm, his touch light and tentative, as though he’s testing the waters. When you glance up at him, he meets your gaze with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “It’s about continuous consent, this stops the second you say so.” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sure,” you reply, and you reach out to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Jack doesn’t let the moment linger too long. “See, Luke?” he says lightly, his tone edging back into playfulness. “Told you she’d be into it.”

Luke rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice behind it. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Part of my charm,” Jack shoots back with a grin, his other hand sliding along your waist as he pulls you closer.

The charged air between the three of you grows heavier, the lines blurring even more as you feel Luke’s hand brush against your back. He’s still cautious, like he’s waiting for a signal that it’s okay to let go, to fully step into this strange, uncharted space the three of you have found yourselves in. Jack notices the hesitation and chuckles softly.

 “Relax, Luke. You’re not going to break her.” His voice is warm, teasing but kind, and it seems to put Luke at ease. With that, Luke leans in, his lips finding yours again. This time, the kiss is more confident, his movements less uncertain as his hands settle on your waist. Jack’s presence is grounding, his steady touch a constant reminder of the trust you all share.

Jack grins, clearly satisfied, while Luke’s expression softens, his usual sharp edges replaced with something vulnerable and new. The room feels smaller now, the three of you wrapped in a moment that’s equal parts thrilling and overwhelming. Luke’s voice breaks the silence, his tone lighter now but still tinged with disbelief. 

“This is... not how I thought tonight would go.”

Jack laughs, his hand resting on Luke’s shoulder. “Welcome to life with her,” he says, his gaze full of affection as he looks at you. “Never boring.” Jacks pulls your hair away from your shoulders, taking a step back and making his way over to the couch, perching on one of the cushions as he speaks, “Baby, you should tell him all about that thing you wanted to try.” 

Luke’s eyes leave his brother as he tilts his head down to look at you, his hands leaving your waist to gently cup the underside of your jaw, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as he takes you in. He raises a questioning brow as you hesitate, the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“I like your thighs.” You blurt out - Jack letting out a bark of laughter as your words linger. 

“And what do you want me to do with this information?” Luke questions back. 

“I want to ride them.”  

Luke blinks at your bluntness, his grip on your jaw faltering for a split second before his lips quirk into an amused smirk. His eyes glint with both surprise and intrigue as he leans slightly closer. “Is that right?” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave.

Jack’s laugh subsides into a low chuckle, and he shakes his head, clearly entertained. “Well, she doesn’t beat around the bush,” he says, reclining further into the couch with an easy confidence. “Guess you’ve got your work cut out for you, little brother.”

Luke’s gaze flickers briefly to Jack, a hint of competitiveness in his expression, before returning to you. “I think I can handle it,” he says, his voice steady but laced with playful challenge. His hands slide from your face to your hips, steadying you as he takes a slow step back toward the couch.  The weight of Luke’s hands on your hips is grounding, and the anticipation coursing through you feels electric.

Luke sits down, his broad frame sinking into the cushions as he watches you with a mix of curiosity and confidence. His legs part slightly, and he pats one of his thighs, the smirk never leaving his face. “Alright, then. Show me what you’ve got.”

Jack whistles low, clearly enjoying the shift in dynamic. “This should be good,” he says, but there’s no malice in his tone—just a genuine appreciation for the moment unfolding.

You step closer to Luke, your pulse quickening as his hands find your waist again. He steadies you as you move to straddle one of his thighs, the firmness of his muscle beneath you sending a thrill through your body. Luke’s hands remain on your hips, guiding you gently but firmly as you settle in.

“Comfortable?” he asks, his voice softer now, the teasing edge giving way to something more genuine.

“Very,” you reply, your breath hitching as you shift slightly against him. The friction is tantalising, and you bite your lip, meeting his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, his expression a mix of concentration and curiosity as he watches you move.

Jack’s voice cuts through the tension, smooth and teasing. “Don’t go easy on him, baby.” He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he observes, his presence adding another layer of heat to the moment.

Luke exhales a shaky breath, his hands tightening on your hips as you grind against him, the flimsy material of your pyjama shorts bunching up around your hips as you move. “You’re... full of surprises,” he mutters, his voice tinged with a mixture of awe and amusement.

You lean forward, your hands resting on his shoulders as you press your lips to his ear. “And the nights just getting started,” you whisper, your voice low and teasing.

Luke’s breath catches, and his grip on you steadies. Luke exhales deeply, his hands firming on your hips as if to anchor himself in the moment. His thigh shifts slightly beneath you, and the subtle motion sends a jolt of pleasure through your body. His gaze locks with yours, his expression softening into something more intimate, more vulnerable.

“Just getting started, huh?” he murmurs, his voice a mixture of teasing and wonder. His hands slide from your hips to your waist, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of your shirt. “Guess I better keep up.”

From the couch, Jack’s low chuckle breaks the silence. “You’re doing fine so far, Luke. But I wouldn’t get too comfortable. She’s got high standards.” His tone is light, but the warmth in his voice is unmistakable.

You glance over your shoulder at Jack, his relaxed posture contrasting with the heat in his eyes as he watches you and Luke. The weight of his gaze sends another thrill through you, and you turn back to Luke, emboldened. Your hands slide up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as you lean in closer.

“I don’t think he’ll disappoint,” you murmur, your lips hovering just over his. Luke’s breath hitches again - a part of him still in disbelief that his brothers girlfriend is currently on top of him -  his grip on your waist tightening as he closes the gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s more confident now, more consuming.

You let out a soft moan against his lips as you feel Luke’s thigh tense below you, his muscles hard and rigid beneath you as he pushes you further down onto his leg - a part of you glad for your choice to go commando in your pyjamas tonight - your clit rubbing deliciously against the rough fabric of his sweatpants. 

“Fuck, Luke.” You hiss as his lips leave yours, pressing soft kisses against your neck as you throw your head back, his hands smoothing up from your hands until they slip under your hoodie, your bearskin breaking out in goosebumps as he stops just under the curve of your breasts. He finds the junction of your jaw sucking sharply as your hips start to falter on his hips. 

“She’s close.” Jack notes, sounding nothing more then a curious spectator as he watches - You can feel Luke smile against your neck as he lifts his thumbs, to graze over your nipples - the ever so soft stimulation pushing you over the edge, as your teeth sink into your lip - your eyes slamming shut as you let out a whispered whine as your orgasm rushes over you. 

Your body trembles against Luke’s, the aftermath of your release leaving you breathless and lightheaded. Luke’s hands steady you, his touch firm but comforting as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. There’s a softness in his expression now, a quiet awe that contrasts with the intensity of moments before.

“You okay?” he asks softly, his voice low and tinged with concern.

You nod, a small, satisfied smile playing on your lips. “More than okay,” you murmur, your voice still a little unsteady.

Jack leans back against the couch, his arms stretched along the backrest, his grin equal parts smug and affectionate. “Told you she’d enjoy herself,” he says, his tone teasing but warm. “Didn’t expect you to handle it so well, though, Luke.”

Luke snorts, shaking his head as he glances over at his brother. “You really know how to ruin a moment, don’t you?”

Jack shrugs, his grin widening. “Just keeping you on your toes.”

You let out a soft laugh, the playful banter between the brothers grounding you in the moment. As your breathing steadies, you shift slightly, slipping off Luke’s thigh to sit beside him. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist, pulling you close as Jack watches with a mixture of amusement and intrigue.

“Well,” Jack says after a moment, his voice light but his gaze lingering on you. “That was fun.”

Your heart skips a beat at the suggestion, the weight of his words hanging in the air. You glance between the two brothers, their contrasting demeanours—Luke’s cautious curiosity and Jack’s confident mischief—only adding to the heady anticipation building between you.

“Why are you saying that like I’m even remotely finished.” Luke asks his brother, his voice soft but steady.

Jack’s grin turns wicked, his eyes glinting with playful intent. “Oh,” he says, pushing off the couch and stepping closer. He crouches in front of you, his hand brushing against your knee as his gaze locks with yours. “Well do continue.” You bite your lip, the thrill of the unknown sending a shiver through you. Luke’s hand tightens slightly on your waist, his expression serious but supportive.  Jack’s grin softens into something more genuine, and he leans forward to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, leaning back against the arm of the couch - his gaze wandering over you. 

Luke rolls his eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Go sit in front of Jack, get comfortable,” he mutters, his hand sliding down to rest on your thigh. The atmosphere between the three of you shifts once again, the room humming with an unspoken energy as the possibilities of the night stretch out before you.

You shuffle away from Luke, smiling as you slip yourself between Jack’s thighs, his arms wrapping around your torso to you back against him - his lips pressing a kiss into your hair. Luke takes a big breath before he turns towards the two of you - pulling himself onto his knees as his hands reach for the waistband on your shorts. “Do you mind?” He questions, waiting for the shake of your head before he slowly starts slipping them down your legs - your hips raising to help slip the shorts off. 

“No underwear?” Jack whispers from behind you, “Naughty, I like it.” He grins. The two of you watch Luke move, the younger boy shuffling further back on the couch  - his hand wrapping around your thighs as he pulls you down the couch with him, his body lying flat on the cushions until you line up with his mouth. 

Your lean your head back against Jacks abdomen looking up at him in surprise as he shoots your a soft grin. “Watch him, not me.” He whispers, pushing your hair away from your face, “tonight is for you, baby.” Your eyes lower back to Luke, his hands lifting your thighs till they sit comfortably over his shoulders, his hot breath teasing against you. 

“You’re so wet.” He mumbles, your pussy glistening in front of him, as he leans forwards to swipe his tongue against you. Luke lets out a low groan as the taste of your hits his tongue, his fingers digging into your thighs as his mouth latches onto you - his tongue flicking against your clit as your breath catches in your throat. 

“Oh, shit.” You curse, one hand gripping the forearm Jack has around your torso, your other hand sliding into Luke’s curls as he sucks on you - the almost silent room filling with the lewd sounds of Luke’s mouth working. Luke’s teeth graze against you as your hips buck, his fingers sliding against your slit as he gathers your moisture before teasing his fingers at the entrance of your cunt. 

“If I died right now, I’d die a happy man.” Luke jokes, as his fingers slip inside of you - your head tilting further back against your boyfriend as you let out a shaky exhale. Jack just chuckles at his brother, his hands lifting your shirt until your breasts fall free, Luke eyes darting up to his brother before dropping back down to your tight nipples. 

“Finish the job, Lukey.” Jack says, an invitation, as Luke doesn’t waste his chance to lean forwards, sucking your right nipple into his mouth - his fingers working inside of you at a steady pace, your hips bucking as he brushes the spot inside of you that you can never seem to reach on your own. 

Lukes mouth leaves your nipple, the cold air hitting your wet flesh as he moves to suck the other nipple - your back arching at the overstimulation. “Come for us, baby.” Jack whispers into your ear, Luke adding a third finger as his thumb joins to rub soft circles against your clit - your thighs fighting against Luke’s body still slipped between them, wanting desperately to slam shut. 

You know both of the brothers as smiling as you come down from your orgasm, your chest heaving as Luke leans forwards to capture your lips one more time - his kiss gentle but all consuming as he seems to eat every whine that leaves you as his fingers slow their movements. 

“Merry Christmas.” Jack says as Luke pulls his fingers from you, your cunt clenching around the emptiness as he dips them into his mouth. 

“Merry Christmas.” Luke responds, a shit eating grin on his face. 

+

+

The morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. The quiet hum of the world waking up outside was a stark contrast to the tangled intimacy of the night before. You stretched lazily, the ache in your thighs and the lingering warmth in your chest a reminder of the boundaries you’d crossed—or perhaps, dismantled entirely.

Jack was still sprawled on your mattress, his arm draped over his face, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips even in rest. You leaned over pressing a soft kiss against your boyfriend’s cheek before slipping out of bed quietly, tugging one of Jack’s oversized shirts over your head and padding softly into the kitchen. The mundane act of making coffee was grounding, the hiss of the machine and the rich aroma filling the room like a balm. You were pouring a second cup when you heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind you.

“Morning.” Luke’s voice was husky with sleep, his hair a disheveled mess as he leaned against the counter. His eyes met yours, a flicker of uncertainty there, but also something warmer, deeper.

“Morning,” you replied, handing him a cup. The silence stretched for a moment, comfortable but charged, until Luke broke it.

“Last night…” He trailed off, his fingers tightening around the mug. “I mean, are we… okay? Are you okay?”

You smiled softly, stepping closer to him. “I’m okay. Are you?”

He nodded, his expression lightening. “Yeah, just… trying to wrap my head around everything. It’s not every day your brother ropes you into something like this.”

Jack chose that moment to saunter into the kitchen, shirtless and unapologetic. “Something like what?” he teased, his grin wide and shameless as he grabbed the mug you’d prepared for him. “Don’t tell me you’re already overthinking it, Luke.”

Luke shot him a glare, but there was no real venom behind it. “I’m not overthinking it. Just… processing.”

Jack’s gaze softened slightly, though his smirk remained. “Good. Processing is fine. But let’s not turn this into something weird, alright? Last night happened because we all wanted it to. Nobody was coerced, nobody’s regretting anything.” He glanced at you, his tone turning more serious. “Right?”

You shook your head. “No regrets.”

Luke exhaled a quiet laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Okay, no regrets.” He agrees, his gaze trained on you as you turn to greet his older brother, Jack pulling you in for a long kiss, your bodies swaying together as you let out a light laugh - Luke just watches,  his arms tingling with the phantom wish of being able to hold you the way his brother does. 

“So what’s the plan for today?” Jack breaks the silence, turning you in his arms to face his younger brother, “Round two?” He teases with a laugh, both you and Luke letting out a groan at the same time. 

[4doras]

MY CHRISTMAS MIRACLE ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

everyone knows wishing for a boyfriend doesn’t work, but why does the perfect man keep finding his way to you? ⊹♡

jungwon x f!reader

genre. fluff (lowercase intended)

wc. 0.9k

a/n. first enhypen fic~ i wrote this a while ago so it MIGHT be bad, but i still hope you guys like it… 😅

“i wish for a boyfriend. a boy who’s like a little ginger cat, cute, smart, clingy. just perfect for me. please, santa. i’ve been single for too long.” that’s what you wrote. you were in desperate need of a boyfriend.

your blaring alarm woke you up. the warm smell of cinnamon lingered in the air — the product of your candle burning for over four hours. your phone was full of messages and missed calls, all asking if you want to go ice skating. you quickly responded to them, agreeing to the outing.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

“let‘s go get our skates!” sunoo cheered, practically jumping up and down with how impatient he was. once everyone got their skates, sunghoon helped you all tighten your laces, making sure none of you would have loose skates. once he was done checking, you all got on the ice, slowly skating to get used to the slippery surface of the ice.

by the next minute, you were gliding around the rink. that was until you bumped into a person coming your way. you prepared yourself to bang against the ground, instead, you were caught in the embrace of a boy.

more under the cut!

“are you okay?” the stranger asked you.

“yeah, are you? im so sorry.” you apologized.

“of course, i was the one that banged into you.” he fixed a small misplaced piece of hair before smiling at you, and skating away.

“what was that?” sunghoon asked you as you returned to your group. “or should i say, who was that? i couldn’t see their face.”

“i don’t know, but he was really cute, hoon.”

“god, you’re so desperate for a boyfriend, aren’t you…” he sighed.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

jake had found a local cafe that was near the rink, deciding that you all should meet up there to rest. you all were free, therefore came to the function.

you met up at the cafe, everyone holding a cup of coffee or tea. you knew everyone there except for one boy. little did you know, that boy would be the only thing you could think about. he was adorned with big eyes like a cats, little dimples formed on his cheeks whenever he smiled.

he was the boy from the skating rink.

“y/n!” jake called you over to sit next to him. “this is jungwon, yang jungwon. jungwon, this is y/n.” jake smiled, his australian accent prolonged on jungwons name. you reached your hand out to shake jungwons, though, it was covered by the long sleeve of your shirt. before shaking your hand, he rolled your sleeve up, and shook it, not putting his hand back before re-covering your hand. weirdly, the small gesture make your heart beat faster than usual.

“sorry for bumping into you at the rink, y/n.” he gave you a sheepish look.

you giggled, “its okay, jungwon.”

you all chatted for a while, ending up in you and jungwon sharing numbers. you and jungwon seemed to have more in common than you would’ve initially thought, it really felt like you two were soulmates. the longer you hung around jungwon, the more you found out about him.

he was a sweet boy. he had the same humor as you, was really caring, and cute. he would follow you around like a little cat, trailing beside you or scurrying to hold your hand so he wouldn’t be left behind.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

“do you have any plans for christmas?” sunoo asked you, his tone sounded like there was a correct answer.

“nah, im free the whole holiday.” you responded, hoping “no” was right.

“perfect! do you wanna go out with the guys? jungwon will be there.” he teased.

“where are you guys going?” in all honesty, you didn't care, as long as you could hang out with jungwon.

“maybe just hanging out at my place, we don't have that much planned.” he suggested.

“sure, i'll join you guys.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

it was christmas day, the streets were bustling and busy. you dressed up and quickly went out so you could buy small gifts for all of your friends, getting one that’s slightly more significant for jungwon, a bear plushie holding a heart. you got back home, completing your look with a spray of perfume and you were once again, out the door.

you greeted everyone, hugging jungwon tightly as you saw him.

“i got you a gift, y/n.” jungwon said, his dimples forming.

“me too.” you reached into your bag, bringing out the plushie.

you and jungwon must be fate, because you both got each other the same gift, but you got jungwon one with a red heart, and jungwon got you one with a pink heart. while you both laughed at the twinning gifts, everyone was curious about what was so funny, but easily caught on by the bears being your hands.

“its a sign, you guys are made for eachother.” jake joked.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

you were all sitting on the sofa together, playing truth or dare.

“jungwon, truth or dare?” jay riddled.

“um… truth.” he hesitated.

“do you like y/n?” jay asked without thinking, it was like he had been waiting for this day.

“yeah.” jungwon tried to avoid eye contact with you.

“won, actually?” you turned your whole body to face him, attempting to look at him while he swung his face away from you.

“im serious, y/n. i really like you,” he confessed.

before jungwon could say any more, you cut him off with a kiss. you held his face in your hands, kissing him softly.

jungwon pulled back. “can i be your boyfriend?”

“please.” you giggled.

maybe wishing for a boyfriend does work.

[just-some-trans-nobody]

December Christmas Monstet stories

December 8.) Horny Krampus

Sorry everyone this one was supposed to br way longer than this but I'm having really bad writers block. I might try to rewrite it eventually I just had to finish what little I had if I want stick to the schedule.

Warnings: NSFW, spit as lube, bare minimum prep, swearing, possessive behavior, stalking behavior

Minors Don't Interact!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Three weeks. 

You only got three weeks a year with him and then you had to wait longing for his touch until next year. 

It was like clock work. December 1st at midnight the sound of heavy hooves landing on your roof waking you. The last two years you would wake up a minute or two before the stroke of midnight in anticipation of his arrival. 

Giddier than a kid on Christmas day you threw the blankets off yourself and rushed to the living room. Some years he came down the chimney, sometimes the window. He always kept you on your toes never fully knowing where he was going to enter. You weren't sure how a man of such a large size could fit down a chimney but your brain always turned off when he was around. Too dick whipped to think about anything but him and the pleasure he gave you.

Hearing his low growl rumble from behind you, your body trembled in response. He had come through your bedroom window expecting you to be there. Seeing you weren't there made him mad, he wanted his cock in you immediately. Having to wait irritated him. Turning you smiled at him before letting out a gasp when he grabbed you pushing you against the nearest wall. “Fuck.” You moaned out, leaning your head back. He let out a low rumble hearing your moan. The sounds you make when he's with you calmed his raging soul, if only a little bit. Seeing that you were still dressed he growled before ripping off your clothes. His clawed hands tearing your clothes to shreds. You know you should be mad about it but the act had only served to turn you on even more. 

Heart pounding in your chest you reached out to hold onto him as he lifted you up pinning you to the wall with one hand. Your legs dangled, unable to reach the floor by a good foot or two. He effortlessly freed his cock from its restraints with his free hand. Lifting a leg up you rested it on his hip spreading your legs for the large man.

Biting your bottom lip you trembled at his touch as he held your chin. “Open.” He growled in a low voice that rumbled in your chest. Obediently you opened your mouth, lightly sticking your tongue out. His fingers immediately slide into your mouth causing you to close it around them. He hardly ever took the time to lube you up first so this felt special for you. Keeping eye contact with him you made sure to lube up his fingers with your saliva as much as you could before he finally pulled them out of your mouth leaving a trail of saliva from his fingers to your plump lips. The trail broke after a second landing on your chin causing him to let out a low rumble at the sight. 

Lowering his hand to your entrance he pushed the lubed up fingers inside of you causing you to moan. He wanted to take you so much it hurt but he knew you haven't had him in such a long time you would need to be stretched out first. By the end of the month he would be able to slip it in without reliance, but that was then and this was now. He would never admit it to himself or anyone else that he cared deeply about you to the point it scared him. As much as he loved making you scream out in painful pleasure he didn't want to hurt you so badly he scared you off. He needed you more than he realized.

Hearing you moan from just his fingers made him smirk in pride. He loved hearing how well he pleasured you, he wanted to hear more. Spreading his fingers wide he continued to pump them into you faster drawing out more moans from your lips. “O-oh oh fuck keep going! Gonna cum!” You moaned, throwing your head back against the wall. Your words encouraging him to pump his fingers harder. Reaching your orgasm with a cry you clung to his arms closing his eyes. 

You barely had a moment to come down from your orgasm when he slid his fingers out and replaced them with the tip of his cock. Gasping you opened your eyes to be met with his hungry gaze. Letting out a quiet moan you rolled your hips against his taking in more of his cock. He let out a low moan feeling his cock go deeper into you. It drove him mad. Growling he snapped his hips forward pushing all of his cock into you causing you to sob lightly. It stung but felt good at the same time. Whimpering softly you clung to him as tears welled in your eyes. He waited for a moment letting you adjust for a moment before he started to slowly rock his hips. Once your face started showing more pleasure than pain he sped his pace up thrusting faster into you. Pressing against you harder he pushed you against the wall even more making you feel a little squished. “Harder.” You moaned scratching at his arms. It was a request he was more than happy to comply with. 

The room was filled with the sounds of your needy moans and the relentless thrusts of Krampus. It was utter bliss being with him. December was by far your favorite time of the year and Christmas had nothing to do with it. 

[outsideratheart]

Meant to be - snippet (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: this is only the first part of this fic which could be read as a stand alone fic or prequel to Birthdays in Bed. There is more, I promise.

Life has a funny way of giving you the thing you wanted most exactly when you needed it. Sometimes you think it isn’t meant for you, only for it to happen a few months later. 

Both you and Alexia were emotionally exhausted after going through 4 rounds of IVF. The first time didn’t take which you knew was a possibility but the fourth, that one was successful. As Christmas morning came around you watched as Alexia handed out Eli and Alba two very different presents that held the same meaning. They both welled up upon realising what it was you were telling them.

It was happiest time of your lives but only a couple a weeks later, a few days into the new year something felt wrong. You woke up in the middle of the night with sharp pains in your lower abdomen. When you pulled back the bedsheet and saw the red stains you knew exactly what was happening. Alexia woke up just as you got out of bed and saw you go into the en-suite. When she saw the cause of your awakening she jumped out of bed and ran to you.

It was a tough couple of months that followed. The team hadn’t been told that you were expecting so at least training was like normal, that was about the only place. You and Alexia were grieving the loss of your child and it was starting to take its toll. You had a decision to make. Do you try again or take a break to process the loss. In the end you agreed to try once more and if that one didn’t take then you would take a break until the summer where you would try another round.

“Are you ready?” Alexia stood in front of you in your bedroom with the test in her hand. You had sent her into the bathroom to get it as you were too nervous.

You nod your head. That told her yes but that wasn’t was you were feeling. You weren’t ready and that’s because you didn’t know if you want it to be positive or negative. The miscarriage affected you mentally more than you could have imagined.

Alexia looked down and whilst you tried to remain stoic, you saw her features drop a little bit and that told you all you needed to know.

“It’s negative, isn’t it?” You hold your hands out for her to take. She joins you on the bed and rests her head on your shoulder.

“Why is the universe so against us starting a family?” Your wife asked in defeat “We are good people”

“You, my love, are the amongst the very best people” you softly kiss her hairline “This is something that is out of our control. I have put a lot of stress on my body over the years may—“

“No!” Alexia’s head snapped up “You won’t blame yourself for this”

Alexia knew that you blamed yourself for the loss of your unborn child and whilst you promised you were doing better, she knew deep down the guilt was still there.

“I was going to say that it’s because of this stress that it might take a little bit longer than we hoped. Let’s face it, we are not the most patient people in the world”

The woman beside you chuckled as she fell backwards so she is now laying on the bed.

“We will have a family Alexia. It will happen when it is suppose to happen” 

“How do you know that?” 

“I don’t but I refuse to believe the alternative. Now, go shower because we have training in a hour and you know we can’t be late”

It was true. Every training session was crucial at the minute. The team were only a couple of games away from winning the league, the Champions League final was at the end of May and the Copa de La Reina semi final and final was at the beginning of June. It was a busy time for Barcelona and truth be told it was a welcomed distraction for the both of you.

Before you knew it you were playing in the Copa de La Reina final having won the league and the champions league within the span of a month. It was a final again Atleti, your favourite fixture of the season. You got to play against some of your best friends and it was always a good game.

“Once last game. What do you say? Shall we have some fun?” You nudge Alexia as you exit the locker room for the warms up.

“And dinner afterwards” Alexia suggested.

“You do realise that if we win then the whole team will be going on out dinner” you teased.

“I’ll take that as a yes” Alexia kisses you on your lips, leaving you in shock. Never had she done that before a game and not out in the open, not that you were complaining.

You ran your fingers over your lips as you savour the feeling of your wife’s lips on yours. There was something going on with Alexia. She was untouchable on the pitch and she played you ball after ball. Lola did a very good job at keeping your shots out of the net but some she stood no change at stopping. Going in to the final minutes it was 3-2 to Barcelona.

You were through on goal and it was only going to end one way. You felt so confident in the shot you had planned that you were already planning your celebration in your head. Only you never got the chance to fulfil it as you felt the full force of a pair of studs connect with your ankle and you heard something snap. Carmen was by your side immediately.

“Y/N! Y/N!”” Lola joined her followed by Alexia a couple of seconds later. Your wife didn’t push the defender out the way as she knew the tackle wasn’t on purpose. She simple went to your other side but not before looking at your ankle which was clearly broken.

It was bad. You knew this so you didn’t argue when the stretcher came onto the pitch. You were strangely calm as you talked to the physios and the players around you.

“Ale, please come with me to the hospital? I can’t go there alone not after last time” 

Staying and playing out the final seconds was never even a thought in Alexia’s mind. She knew the moment you were referring to and whilst you would be going to a different part of the hospital, she wouldn’t let you go alone.

A couple of hours later you were laid in a hospital room. Alexia was by your side as you both wait for the x-ray results. You knew they had to take them but you didn’t need a medical degree to know that you broke you ankle, it was a clean break and you knew that you would be out for an extended period of time.

It felt as is every five minutes three more footballers joined you in your room. You were pretty sure this many visitors weren’t allowed but you also know that the nurse was a fan which explains the leniency.

When the doctor came in there was enough football players to have a starting 11 and some subs. The older man laughed as he scanned the room. 

“I have your results. Miss Y/L/N—“

“It’s Putellas-Y/L/N” Alexia hated it when people called you by your maiden name even though the two of you never officially announced you were married.

“My apologies. Miss Putellas-Y/L/N” The doctor sent Alexia smile who nodded whilst smiling herself “as I was saying, I have your results. I think it’s best to talk to you in private. Your wife can stay of course”

Up until now you had remained in high spirits having already accepted your fate but the doctor words dampened those spirits entirely. 

“Is something wrong?” Alexia asked as she squeezed your hand three times.

“Not necessarily”

You told your friends that it was ok to leave and the doctor promised to come and get them once the results had been discussed.

The atmosphere in the room did a complete 180 as you and Alexia waited for the doctor to speak. 

“She has broken her ankle, no?” Alexia’s patience grows thin.

“Yes, let’s start with that” he says which confuses you and Alexia “You ankle is broken. It was a clean break but is a bad one. We are going to take you into surgery in the morning”

“No, you do it now. She is a professional athlete. She is a priority”

The doctor looked at you for help.

“Alexia, let the man speak. I’m sure there is a reason for the delay in surgery. There is a reason, right?” 

“There is a reason. It is part of procedure to take blood tests when a patient gets admitted. Y/N,” the man donning a white coat moves closer to you “Have you been trying to start a family?” 

This was private information. Information that you and alexia didn’t feel comfortable discussing with a stranger, nor were you ready to talk about it.

“We were. Did that play a part in the break? Did the hormones I’m taking weaken my body?” 

The doctor looks at you, over to the Alexia and then back to you.

“You’re pregnant. Rather far along actually”

You were rendered speechless. How is this possible? The text was negative and you haven’t tried since. There was no way you were pregnant. Alexia must share the same disbelief because she explains this to the doctor. He confirms again that you are indeed pregnant and that the hospital tests are much more accurate that the ones you take at home.

“You’re 9 weeks along. I have a nurse ready to give you an ultra sound if that is something you would like or we can schedule it for the moment when things are a little bit quieter” he laughs as he dips his head to the door, a reminder that your friends are outside.

“Are you sure?” Alexia asks still not believing what she is hearing.

“100%” and with that the doctor left you and your wife alone to proceed what he has just told you.

[lvnleah]

— christmas date | lia wälti 🎄

find the twelve days of Christmas masterlist here!

You and Lia had been looking forward to this evening for weeks, a chance to escape the whirlwind of the holiday season and focus entirely on each other. Christmas Eve had arrived, and the city was alive with twinkling lights, the streets bustling with last-minute shoppers, and the air cold. But tonight, none of that mattered. All that mattered was you and Lia, together.

You’d planned a surprise date night for her, one that you hoped would be full of warmth, laughter, and unforgettable moments. Lia, as always, was a little too suspicious, already guessing that something special was in the works, but you could see the excitement in her eyes when you told her to get ready. She didn’t ask questions, instead just giving you that knowing smile of hers. 

The evening started with a casual walk through the nearby park, hand in hand. The air was crisp, the streets damp from an earlier rain, but everything felt magical under the glow of streetlights. It was one of those rare winter nights where everything seemed perfect, as though the world had slowed down just for you two.

Lia squeezed your hand as she pointed out a set of Christmas lights in the distance, sparkling from the branches of a tall, proud tree. “Let’s go see that,” she suggested, her eyes lighting up with childlike wonder, even though you both had seen dozens of holiday displays by now.

You both strolled closer, taking in the beauty of the decorations as they danced in the chilly breeze. Lia’s laughter rang out as she tried to twirl in the snow that had started to fall lightly, her movements graceful and effortless even in the cold. You couldn’t help but laugh with her, catching her in your arms when she nearly lost her balance on the slick sidewalk.

“I swear, you could dance anywhere,” you teased, feeling the warmth in your chest as her laughter softened into a smile.

“I’ve got a good partner,” she replied, leaning into you for a brief moment of quiet before continuing your walk. Her arm found its way around your waist, and for the rest of the journey, you both simply enjoyed the beauty of the night, the peace of the world around you, and the joy of being together.

Next, you led her to a nearby ice skating rink, a small outdoor setup nestled between two shops. You had rented skates for the two of you earlier, and now, with the rink almost empty save for a few skaters, it felt like the perfect spot to share a slow, intimate evening. Lia raised an eyebrow when she saw it, but she didn’t protest, only accepting your hand as you both walked toward the rink.

“I can’t believe you got me skating,” she joked, a smirk on her face. “You know I’m terrible at this.”

“You’ve got me, don’t you?” you teased back as you took her hand and led her onto the ice.

At first, the two of you wobbled and laughed, arms flailing as you found your balance. Lia’s grin was wide, and her laughter was contagious. Eventually, the two of you found a rhythm, skating slowly in circles, your hands clasped tightly together. The world around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the soft scrape of skates against the ice and the gentle rhythm of your breaths.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” Lia said, her voice full of delight as she managed a smooth glide around the rink.

“I knew you would,” you responded, a sense of pride in your voice. You had always known that no matter how many challenges life threw her way, she’d rise to meet them. This was just another example.

You skated for a while longer, gliding in sync with her, then pulled her aside to warm up by the firepit nearby. The warmth from the flames made the cold air feel bearable, and as you sat side by side, you found yourselves wrapped in a comfortable silence. You let your fingers intertwine, feeling the familiar sense of closeness and love that had become second nature between the two of you over the years.

“I’ve missed this,” Lia said softly, her head resting against your shoulder. “Just us. No distractions.”

“Me too,” you whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “We need more nights like this.”

The final part of your evening took you both to a Christmas market, tucked away on a quiet side street. The soft glow of lights and the scent of warm mulled wine and roasted chestnuts filled the air as you wandered through the stalls, hand in hand. You bought hot chocolate, letting the warmth seep into your bones as you stroll between the shops, stopping every so often to admire the handmade ornaments and trinkets.

Lia was practically glowing, the soft light from the market stalls reflecting in her eyes. You could see how content she was, how she revelled in the simple joy of the evening. And it made your heart swell, knowing that you were the one who had made it all happen. This was your Christmas gift to her: a night of laughter, love, and memories that would last far beyond the season.

As you walked, Lia pulled you to a stop in front of a little booth selling mistletoe. You laughed as she grabbed a sprig, holding it above your head. “Guess we have to,” she said with a cheeky grin.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You leaned in, your lips finding hers in a kiss that was slow and sweet, lingering under the mistletoe. For a moment, everything else faded away—the lights, the sounds, the cold air. There was only you and her, wrapped in love and contentment.

When you finally pulled back, your hearts beating in sync, Lia gave you a soft, dreamy smile. “Best Christmas ever,” she whispered, and at that moment, you knew she meant it.

And you did, too. Because no matter how many Christmases passed, the best part would always be sharing them with her.

[ichasewaterfalls]

CAR OMORASHI.

By reading this, you verify that you are 18+ years old, and understand the content you’re about to read is considered NSFW and omorashi-linked, and therefore unsuitable to minors.

I tried to keep the heightening urge to pee in the back of my mind as we sped down the highway towards the mountains. We’d only been driving for an hour or so, and I didn’t want to inconvenience Jake just yet. I was sure that I had a good few more miles left in me before it escalated to emergency status. I’d turned down the initial toilet break before we left, confident in my holding ability and wanting to keep to our strict schedule in order to get to Jake’s parents house before Christmas Eve.

Dismissing the thought from my mind, I instead scrolled the plan I’d written for our trip. Itineraries for each day, special activities for us all, and even a family photoshoot for the entire group. I’d taken joy in planning every family reunion since Jake and I got married 4 years ago. Admittedly, I’d also taken control the 2 years we were engaged, and the 3 years of dating. So with 9 years of planning under my belt, I was confident I knew how to create the perfect festive bash.

That wasn’t the only thing under my belt. My bladder reminded me of its existence as Jake merged rapidly into the left-most lane, and I shivered randomly as a wave of urgency fell down my spine.

‘What the hell? You’re supposed to be in the right lan-‘

Before I told him off for his directional mishap, I looked up quickly to see the lane was blocked off, a massive spill of hay all over the road. Should’ve thought of this as a possibility, since we were just passing the thresholds between country farms and mountainous ranges. My bladder seemed to be passing a threshold too, between uncomfortable and urgent.

‘We’ll have to go the back way. It’ll be about 45 extra minutes added to the journey.’

I sighed with frustration, 45 minutes? Not only did it throw us off schedule, it meant longer for me to hold my increasingly aching bladder.

‘I’ll text your mom.’ I scoffed, quickly shooting the group chat a text to let them know we’d be a bit late. As I put my phone down again, I crossed my legs and placed my hands on my lap, preparing myself to have to place a hand or two between my legs to hold myself.

I must have been shaking without notice, but Jake obviously did. He always did.

‘You alright there? Need a bathroom break?’

‘N-no, I’m fine. I- Yes I need a bathroom break.’

‘I’m not sure where the closest facility is on this road. I don’t normally drive the backroads to mom’s. I’m sure we’ll figure it out babe.’

The drive continued, and so did my need for a bathroom. I now had one hand between my legs, and another hand scanning Google Maps, trying to find any relief stops near us. But of course, rural mountain roads aren’t the most reliable source of internet connection. I thought about asking Jake to stop so I could get out and go, but since everyone was diverted, like us, we had cars in front and behind us. And with narrow, slippery roads, there wasn’t enough space to stop and pull over, or safely get off the road. A sinking feeling set in. My sense of chivalry was no longer important to me, he was my husband after all.

‘Jake it’s getting worse, I need to find relief ASAP.’

‘I don’t know how to help babe, I’m trying.’

He was obviously noticing the severity of the situation, as he placed his foot on the gas, going up to the safest speed limit for these roads. I watched him stare at me anxiously as I shoved both hands inside my pants, trying to hold back the pee from escaping.

As the car climbed higher into the range, my need for a bathroom reached a breaking point, and the urgency in my voice became palpable. "Jake," I gasped, my face contorted with discomfort, "I really can't hold it much longer."

"I know, Clara," Jake signed, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of civilization or a restroom. "Just a little longer, okay? Let's try some deep breathing together."

He reached over, placing one hand on my shoulder to guide me through deep, calming breaths. "Inhale deeply...hold it for a moment...now exhale slowly," he coached, trying to keep his voice steady despite the rising panic.

I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the seatbelt tightly. "It's not working, Jake," I whimpered, my voice trembling with desperation.

But as the minutes ticked by, my resolve wavered. I clutched the dashboard, my face flushed with embarrassment and defeat. "Jake," I whispered, tears forming in her eyes, "I can't...I'm so sorry."

Before Jake could respond, the inevitable happened. My efforts to hold it in proved futile, as the pee rushed out of me, soaking my jeans and the car seat beneath me.

For a moment, silence filled the car, save for my muffled sobs and Jake's stunned expression. The weight of the situation hung heavy between us.

"I'm so sorry, Jake," I managed to choke out, tears streaming down her face.

Jake took a deep breath, reaching over to comfort me. "It's okay sweetheart," he said softly, his voice filled with empathy and understanding. "Accidents happen. We'll figure this out together."

[bunnylovesani]

Miss Congeniality

Chapter 1

Content warnings: suggestive and derogative language, reader being humiliated, mentions of panties and arousal

WC: 2.4k

You stared at the clock and huffed, it was 10 minutes past midnight. Your older brother Jaden and his best friend Anakin should’ve come home by now.

“Good night honey, don’t stay up too late, you need your beauty sleep for the pageant tomorrow!” your mother cooed as she walked past your door, peering into your admittedly childishly decorated bedroom.

You had turned 19 last month but still hadn’t gotten over your fixation for all things pink and frilly, your walls adored with posters of your favourite singers and your bedsheets decorated with petite lace bows on every corner. You wrapped your satin bedrobe tight around yourself as you got up and headed downstairs to the lounge, where you’d spent many nights staring at the door waiting for your favourite boys to come home from their escapades.

Your gaze settled on a large framed photo of you resting on the mantlepiece, wearing a pageant crown and smiling gracefully. Sure, you were mommy and daddy’s pride and joy, the most beautiful girl in the county and latest winner of the teen Miss Naboo competition, but you were bored. A whole lifetime of always being the good girl had taken its toll and left you with a feeling of discontenment and envy. You saw the way other girls had fun, sneaking out at night and going to parties with handsome boys- Anakin always had a crowd of women swarming him and you hated that you felt jealous at the attention he gave them.

You knew ultimately you were above all that, you knew that you were saving yourself for a worthy man, one who would appreciate the efforts you made to keep yourself pure. But sometimes, when you saw the veins snaking their way down Ani’s arms, with his black band tees rolled up to his muscular elbows and his plump lips playing with his tongue piercing, you feared you might not be able to hold back much longer. As if your thoughts summoned him, the door swung open and the raucous laughter of the boys filled the stately family home.

“Did you see the way that chick was giving me fuck-me eyes? She totally wants it, I’ve got half a mind to - oh. Sis, what are you doing still up?” Jaden’s face fell as he hung his coat up.

“I was just making myself a cup of cocoa, trying to soothe my nerves for the competition tomorrow.” You lied. You couldn’t care less about the pageant and you didn’t even really like cocoa. You just wanted to be there to catch a glimpse of your favourite emo boy.

“Oh yeah, forgot that shit was tomorrow. Do I still have to drive you?” Jaden rolled his eyes, he never did understand the appeal of being paraded around like a prized pig.

“No, I presumed you’d be too inebriated from the night before so I asked daddy already.” You happily chittered, unconsciously raising your nightie just a little so that your brother’s friend might catch a better glimpse of your freshly moisturised, strawberry scented thighs. He didn’t pay it any notice as per usual, not that it stopped you from trying.

“Ah you know me too well.” Jaden chuckled “Good luck with that, let’s go Anakin.”

“Wait, wait! How was your night? Did you guys have fun?” You pouted, big doe eyes staring at them in disappointment to have not been filled in on their nighttime adventures.

“Oh you don’t wanna hear about that sweetheart” Ani finally spoke, smirking. “Your brother is quite the Cassanova.”

“That’s enough of that, off to bed with you” Jaden interrupted him, motioning for you to leave before slipping into the kitchen to help himself to the pot of fresh cocoa you’d made.

“You know, you look really creepy when you’re sat there like that right in front of the door. At least turn on a lamp or some shit.” Anakin uttered harshly, making your cheeks burn up with embarassment.

“Um, I, I’m sorry? I’ll make sure the place is lit up like a christmas tree next time.” You muttered, staring at the ground and silently cursing your obedient nature. God, he had a way of making you feel small. The slight smirk that creeped up on his face made you suspect that he liked that.

“Now that I think about it, why is it that you happen to be in the living room every time I come through the door? Do you wanna hang out with us that bad?” Anakin sniggered in that signature cocky way only he knows how.

“Oh shut up, I have better things to do than to sit around smoking joints with 2 college dropouts.” You rolled your eyes, was it that obvious? Clearly you would have to find a better cover than drinking hot chocolate.

“Goddamn, this cocoa tastes like shit. Are you sure you didn’t make it with mud?!” Jaden emerged from the kitchen sipping from his mug and scowling, eliciting a cackle from Anakin. “Don’t ever try cooking sis, stick to looking pretty in dresses.” he tousled your hair as he walked past you and up the stairs to his room. Anakin gave you one last look, subtly dropping his glare down to your legs before smiling ever so slightly as he followed his friend. The second of eye contact made your heart pound with a worrying intensity and you had to calm your racing mind before the inappropriate thoughts started forming again.

It had been a week since the last time the boys hung out, and in this moment you wished it’d been longer as you sat in bed, enveloped in your pink fluffy blanket - huffing at the sounds of Anakin and Jaden howling with laughter next door. What could possibly be so funny that it induces such animalistic noise? Once the guffawing was so loud that you could no longer hear your movie over it, you resolutely climbed out of bed, slid your slippers on and marched over to your brother’s room across the hallway. As soon as you opened the door, the pungent smell of their sweet, earthy joint hit you.

“Ah, so that’s why you’re laughing so hard.” You cross your arms at the sight of them convulsing with giggles. “Can you cretins keep it down?”

“Apologies, are we disturbing your Barbie movie marathon?” A very dishevelled looking Jaden grinned. “Or are you watching Enchanted again? How many times have I told you, stop dreaming about Prince Charming, he’s not coming.” You furrow your brows, about to launch a tirade on your brother when Anakin interjects.

“Oh my God, what are those?” he points at your slippers. “Are you wearing fluffy pink bunnies on your feet? Seriously?” He covers his mouth with his hand to stop the giggles that threaten to burst through. You stare down at the dopey faces of the little bunnies sticking out of your shoes.

“No! I mean yes but these are old, mom bought them for me, they were just lying around and I’m kinda cold.” The excuses started flowing out as Anakin glared at you endearingly.

“Oh my God, why are you lying? They’re her favourite ones, she wears them every day.” Jaden sniggers and you wonder why you even tried to lie with your brother there.

“Aw, you don’t have to lie sweetie, I think it’s cute. Pretty little pageant princess in her pink slippers.” Anakin smiles and you’re unsure whether he’s mocking you.

Feeling mortified, you run out and slam your bedroom door closed- a resounding bang being heard as the bedrobe and nightie that hung on the back fell off the hook and spilled onto the floor. For their information, you were watching a documentary. You know he dismissed you as nothing other than his friend’s childish little sister, just a brat who couldn’t ever keep up with him- he was 4 years older than you after all.

But you’re not a little girl anymore. Sure, your favourite colour was pink and you pranced around on stage in ballgowns, but you were a woman now. You had come into your own this year and you saw the whole world differently. You had never usually paid any mind to the boys that circulated around the house with your brother- but now they piqued your interest immensely, one in particular. You’ll never forget the first day you really noticed him.

It was last winter, you had gone to support your big brother at one of his hockey matches as you often loved doing. It was the semi-finals and he had led his team to a resounding victory as captain, rushing the barricades towards you and your parents, arms raised and fists curled in a triumphant dance that you mirrored. He engulfed you in a callous bear hug, easily enveloping you before clambering over to your parents. Over the broad shoulders of the players, you caught a glimpse of him.

His dark hair swooped messily over his forehead, thick eyebrows furrowed over his piercing blue eyes as he hung back from the rest of the team, choosing to avoid the adoring crowd and slip away into the changing rooms. You experienced a visceral response to seeing him in that oversized hockey jersey, so much so that you saw it in your dreams for the next month.

Suddenly, the unobtrusive guy who hung around your brother and occasionally teased you for the way you dressed became so much more than that. You felt on edge every time he came over, rushing over to your room to put on some lipgloss or change into a cuter dress before casually walking past the hallway a suspicious amount of times, hoping he would get a glimpse of you through the open crack in Jaden’s door. Luckily for you, your oaf of a brother never caught on, and if Anakin did, he never made it known.

Whilst reminiscing, you heard a knock on the door.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Ani’s sweet voice sounded. “I didn’t mean to upset you, we were just playing around.” You got up from your wallowing position in bed and straightened up like an arrow.

“Oh no, it’s fine, I wasn’t upset. I’m used to it.” You smiled sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “But thanks anyway.”

“I meant what I said. It’s good you have a strong identity, it’s what makes you you. You shouldn’t pay any mind to what others say, least of all me. I mean I’ve had plenty of choice comments about my look but I wouldn’t be Anakin without the piercings or the headphones or the bad attitude now, would I?” He leans on the doorframe and looks at you curiously. You have to take a deep breath to suppress a full body shiver, you don’t think you can take much longer of him staring at you like you’re his next meal.

“What’s all this- oh my“ he spots your nightie on the floor and picks it up. “Who are you trying to impress wearing this missy?” he closely inspects the white satin dress adorned with a lace trim, rubbing the rough pads of his fingers over the smooth fabric.

“And this?” He picks up the scandalous red panties sprawled out next to his feet and observes them as they dangle off his finger.

“Anakin! Put those down!” You jolt up towards him in an attempt to frantically snatch them out of his hand but he simply holds them up in the air so that you can’t reach. You weren’t a short girl by any means but you felt like one next to Ani’s staggering height.

“Oh this is priceless, are you telling me you actually wear these around the house? Or is it to your pageants, do you have some kind of boyfriend we don’t know about?” He laughs, clearly enjoying this abuse of power.

“No I don’t, not that it’s any of your business!” You huffed, slapping his chest in indignant frustration. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look pretty for yourself.”

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t believe you. Because these aren’t pretty panties, this is a very slutty thong. One that someone would only wear if they were expecting to get laid.” His raspy voice dropped in tone, like he was saying something he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “Are you trying to get laid?”

A whimper almost escaped your lips at the unexpected question. Suddenly you were aware of how close your face was to his and that both your hands were resting on his chest.

“I won’t even dignify that with a response.” You muttered quietly, maintaining eye contact.

“Ah, who would’ve thought Jaden’s little sister would be such a slut. I bet daddy wouldn’t be happy to find out his little girl wears these.” He wraps his hand around the panties and subtly pockets them into his baggy black jeans.

“If I were really a slut then you’d be the first to know about it.” The words slipped out as you turned away from him.

“What?” He grabbed you by the wrist and turned you back around. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve never even been with one guy, let alone enough to make me a slut.” You admitted coyly, regretting the words as soon as they came out.

“You really are a good girl, aren’t you?” His gaze is so intense you worry your knees might buckle. “Something’s gonna have to be done about that.”

His fingers trace your collarbone as he takes one last look into your helpless eyes before turning around, smirking to himself as he leaves the room. You sigh a breath of relief at his absence, trying not to pay too much attention to the growing wetness between your thighs. This was not going to bode well for your vow of chastity.

Wait a minute, did he take your panties?

Next Chapter

[callmelola111]

K.O. ♡ e.w. oneshot

 ✄ - - - -   inspo track   - - - -   bull believer- wednesday

synopsis: as hours, minutes, and seconds count down till the new year, secrets are revealed and trust is broken. who knew the downfall of your life could be so freeing—and that a total stranger would be the one to catch you.

      | 𓆣 | pairing & wc: ellie williams x reader. wc: 4.8k

      | ❀ | cw: 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, reader is in a toxic relationship with a man (sexuality isn’t mentioned in huge detail so feel free to hc however you like—they could be bi, pan or just a lesbian with very real comp het), coming out scene (refers to self as “gay”), heavy swearing, descriptions of intense violence + gore, cheating (bf on reader), underage drinking + use of marjuana (18), reader is called a slur (dyke)

a/n: hi hellooo, long time no see! **first, a quick disclaimer: this isn't realistic, there is a complete lack of morals and an unethical/dangerous amount of violence that i wouldn't condone irl. but alas this is fan fiction based off a M rated game whose whole basis is violence, sooo plz keep that in mind when reading.** anywaysss... i’ve been obsessed with this song for months now and it sparked a little oneshot idea so here it is. not exactly my usual stuff, more of a passion project as i process my hatred for men as a lesbian who used to date them. soooo i guess this one goes out to my small town comp het girlies who love ellie williams. thanks for all the support!! ♡~ lola

In the south it never really felt like a true winter. All the holidays that came along with it never felt real either. Christmas was dull and New Years was even worse. After spending the last 18 years of your life in a small hick town, it felt like no use to wish for some “better future”. You were damned from the start. Sure it was a new year, but it was the same old shit and you knew nothing was gonna change until you got out of this hell hole.

Just 6 more months of pretending, you’d tell yourself. 6 more months of bending over backwards to please your overbearing parents. 6 more months of mediocre sex with your shitty boyfriend that you weren’t even sure you liked. 6 more months of artificial conversations with your estranged friend group from middle school who claim to “not get you” anymore. But at this point, as every little thing ate away at you, you weren’t sure if you could keep up your act for much longer. Especially tonight, where you’d be faced with the challenge of appeasing all 3. 

December 31st, 9:00pm:

Adorned in a matching set of mint green pjs you sat patiently on your bed waiting for the go-ahead. Like clockwork, your parents gave a small knock and pushed open your door from its cracked position. It always annoyed you how they knocked, pretending to respect your privacy while simultaneously enforcing a “no closed doors” rule. You thought at 18 they would’ve let it go, but no. 

“Well hun, me and your mother are heading out now. We don’t expect to be back till the morning… Ya know, just to be safe while taking part in all the ‘festivities’.” Your dad chuckled, throwing up some air quotes. Your mom stood deadpan waiting for him to wrap up his little bit before butting in.

“No plans for the evening, right?” She phrased her words like a question but you knew this was just her way of subtleing enforcing the stupid rules you’ve followed your whole life.

“Of course not momma. Probably just gonna watch Gilmore Girls reruns and then go to sleep before any fireworks start up.” You gestured to your pjs but your perfectly made bed said otherwise. See, you knew this little routine like the back of your hand. You knew just what to do and just what to say in order to lure your parents into a false sense of security. While they stood in the frame of your door wishing you a goodnight, your party clothes hung on the other side of it, just out of their view.

December 31st, 9:30pm:

A loud honking blared from just outside your bedroom window. You ushered the sheer curtains open and glared out at the little sedan sputtering in your driveway. Your hands ran down your face followed by a big sigh. It’s not like you didn’t know your boyfriend Jax was coming to pick you up for the new years party that night, you had planned it just days before. But unbeknownst to him, the only reason you reached out was because you didn’t have a ride and tonight was one of the few times your parents wouldn’t be around to police curfew. 

You climbed into the passenger seat already cringing at the unidentifiable smell and litters of trash covering the floor. Forcing a smile to your face you greet the grimey boy sitting at the wheel with a wave.

“Come onnnn, not even a kiss? You must be real happy to see me, huh?” You grit your teeth, squeeze both eye’s shut, and lean in for a peck to appease his complaints. 

“Of course I’m happy to see you babe.” This was a lie. Something you had become quite good at these past few years, even lying to yourself at times. The rest of the car ride was silent, leaving you to ponder this drudgery of a relationship. You weren’t quite sure when things shifted or if there was ever an attraction at all, but after a year together and college approaching you just decided to ride it out until the inevitable. And part of you recognized the same in him, so there was never any guilt about it. 

December 31st, 9:45pm:

Alcohol was the first thing on your mind as soon as the car went into park. The door to the house was propped wide open, inviting in teens of the small town. Some top 10 hit boomed from a speaker nested in the main living area, not really your style—at least not sober. You scavenged the kitchen for a clean solo cup to designate as your own and began the journey to drunkenness. Jax followed in suit with a couple bottles of beer. The harsh burn in your throat lingered but the alcohol's effect was already beginning to take off the edge that was your life.

You attempted to initiate some conversation with the man who had brought you here but he was too busy texting to listen. So consumed with the glow of his screen, you couldn’t help but peek to see what was so interesting. As soon as you got a glimpse you wished you had been less nosey. His attention was not being stolen by a dumb Instagram reels, but actually, a long string of texts with a girl whose name you didn’t recognize. Your stomach pinged at his possible infidelity. Partly because he was your boyfriend but mostly because you’d spent months convincing yourself to like him, to stay with him, to be a good girlfriend—and he could care less. All this work and effort on your part was simply discarded with his unloyal behavior. It was all for nothing. But hey, maybe you were just drawing conclusions. It could just be a friend. Right?

December 31st, 10:15pm:

Jax had finally shifted his attention back to you before his screen lit up again causing you to retaliate in irritation. You swiped up the cracked device before he had the chance and began to scroll.

“Can’t you just silence it? What is soooo fucking importan-.” Your voice caught at the sight of flirty messages littering the screen.

“Are-are you fucking cheating on me?” You instantly questioned.

“Bro no! Give me my fucking phone back!”

“Who the fuck are you texting then? ‘Mary Jane’,” you spouted in a mocking tone, “no way is that someone's real name. You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“It’s a joke between me and my cousin. Now would you chill?”

“Your cousin?? You call your cousin baby?? I mean, I knew this town was full of hicks but I didn’t know y’all were those kinds of hicks.” The alcohol was giving you a little too much courage as your taunting waded into dangerous territory.

“The fuck did you just say? Don’t fucking test me! Can’t even handle a couple shots without getting all crazy on me!!”

“Crazy?? I’m being fucking reasonable. Literally any other person would be bothered by this just as much as me.”

“You know what, just fuck off. We can talk when you stop being such a delusional bitch.” He then disappeared into the living room, landing onto the couch, leaving you alone with your anger. 

December 31st, 10:30pm:

You stood idle, bubbling over with emotion, eye’s filling with tears when a wet sensation hit your upper lip. Its flow grew stronger and began to trickle onto your hands where your gaze was locked. Deep red stained your palms- a random nosebleed. It was like a sign from the universe. A sign that you weren’t crazy. In fact, you might be one of the only sane people in this whole damn town. Stuck in your reverie, blood continued to drip on your hands, your shirt, your lips- everywhere. That is until a kind eyed girl slipped you a dish towel to stop the flow. 

“Uh hey, your nose is bleeding.” You snapped your head up finally acknowledging the moment in full.

“Shit thanks, sorry…” Your face went hot realizing how long you had been just standing still, letting the blood fall where it may. The heat doubled, spreading to your ears when you finally acknowledged the person who had witnessed the whole thing. Ellie Williams. You had never formally met but knew of her existence, as she had kind of a reputation around school. There wasn’t anything inherently bad about her (at least in your opinion), she just didn’t fit the mold of most residents in your town. Therefore, she was a target for people's prejudices, especially being the only out lesbian in your senior class. Despite everyone else’s thoughts, you really admired her. You wished you had that type of courage.

“It’s no problem…” the auburn haired girl glanced down deciding what to say next before lifting her gaze back up to you. “Not to be nosey, I know you don’t really know me, but like… are you okay?”

Head tilted back, you gave a nasally reply, “Oh me? Yeah, yeah uh- I’m okay” 

“No offense but uh, you don’t look that okay.” she gestured to your bloody everything.

“Alright so I’m not okay, you got me.” You looked down to your now crimson stained blouse and scrubbed frantically at the chiffon material trying to reprimand the damage.

“Here, here– You can just take my flannel to cover it up, I promise I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Before you could say anything else, Ellie was sliding the warm garment over your shoulders and guiding you into the arm holes. It was dark blue, in a faded plaid pattern, and smelled of pine and incense. The girl was now left barren in just her white tank– and all for you.

“Yeah of course.” She then took it a step further, buttoning you up. You watched as her dexterous fingers worked up from the bottom of the shirt to the top, brushing you at each maneuver. A little jab into the plush right under your naval, a swipe past your ribs, and a tap at your collarbones. The quick, unexpected interaction left you completely flustered and you weren’t quite sure why.

“Thank you.” was all you could say. 

“Sooo… do you wanna talk about it?” At this point, Ellie was completely enamored with you from the way you handled yourself with Jax. She had this unusual feeling, a feeling like she needed to protect you. A feeling that you were different from most. Maybe you were even a little like her?

“Honestly, yeah. My friend Samara was supposed to be here tonight but I guess she decided not to show, and I’m starting to wish I didn’t either.”

“Well, if it’s worth anything, I’m glad you’re here. Come on now, follow me.” Ellie led the way to a set of stairs at the edge of the living room. You snaked right past the couch where Jax was drunkenly passed out, mumbling obscenities at his phone. Of course, he paid no mind to you. The idiot was too consumed with himself to even wonder if you were okay.

December 31st, 11:00pm:

You and the sweet girl sat on the rough carpeted step talking about everything under the sun. Ellie was the first person in a really long time who you felt you could be honest with.

“So you think he’s cheating on you?” she questions trying to clarify the few bits of dialogue she heard while watching from afar.

“I know he is. I’m not stupid.”

“I’m sure you’re not.” Ellie put her head down staring at the laces of her dirty converse. You felt so unreadable, making her unsure of how to proceed in the conversation. “So00, how do you feel about it all then?”

“I don’t know, I guess angry.” you answered with a remarkably solemn tone. 

“What about… sad?”

Like second nature, you instantly thought of a less than honest answer until Ellie’s attentive green eyes brought you back to Earth. 

“It feels like… I’m supposed to be sad, but I can’t. In a twisted, confusing way, I’m honestly kinda relieved. So fucking pissed, but relieved.” Ellie’s lids widened, this was an answer she wasn’t expecting at all–but one she was glad to hear.  

“I can’t blame you, he does kinda seem like a piece of shit.”

“And his dick is small too.” you quipped, making Ellie chuckle under her breath.

“Maybe I’m reading into things, but… it seems like you never really liked this guy in the first place.” 

You took a guilty pause before confirming, “Maybe…”

“So why haven’t you broken up with him?” Ellie was genuinely curious. She thought if it was her in the situation she definitely would’ve gotten rid of that Jax guy long, long ago. Who would wanna keep around a douche bag like that?

“Being with Jax felt convenient. He felt like my ticket to ‘normalcy’.” You put your head down in slight shame but continued the explanation. “I got so caught up in my image that I neglected how I actually felt. I was doing everything to please everyone but me.”  Ellie scooted in one inch to the left, now connecting your thighs and bringing in a sense of comfort.

“Trust me, I understand. This town is fucking ruthless.”

“God yeah, the things I’ve heard people say about you are seriously fucked up. I don’t know how you do it.” A beat of silence lingered as Ellie articulated her thoughts.

“I think… community. I mean, obviously most of the people at our school look down on me, but all it takes is one singular person to be right there with you and then things don’t feel so bad. I guess for me, I can’t imagine being anything but myself. Like completely myself.” The girl looked up from the hangnail she was picking at as she spoke and was met with your tear filled eyes. “Fuck, did I say something?”

Your hand shot up to quickly wipe away the floodgates threatening to fall, “No, no. It’s just that you’re right,” you stuttered, choking down another cry, “an-and, I wish I would've realized it sooner because these past 4 years have been like hell. I don’t wanna be the cookie cutter straight girl anymore. I just wanna be me.”

Ellie then placed a gentle hand to your knee and brought her eyes to meet your own, “And what might that be?”

“Gay. Like really fucking gay.” you said through teary-eyed laughs as Ellie joined in with her own hearty chuckle.

“Welcome to the club.” she said, sticking out a strong hand for you to shake. You grasped it tightly as her warm palm guided you up and down, her touch lingering just a little longer than the gesture itself. As you collected yourself you whipped out a small pocket mirror to touch up the smudged mascara littering your undereyes. Ellie admired in silence. She was in pure awe of your resilience, and when you were finished with your clean up, you turned back to realize what had just gone down.

“Fuck, I’m sorry for dumping all that on you considering we just met. It’s weird how things I’ve never even said out loud before can come out so easily around a stranger.”

Ellie nudges you with her shoulder, “I guess I just have that effect, huh?”

“I guess you do.” you sighed, nudging her back.

December 31st, 11:15pm:

The two of you continued your banter until a cold breeze from the back door gave Ellie a brilliant idea.

“Dare I say… you look like you need a blunt?” she said with a mischievous smirk.

“No, please. It's exactly what I need.”

Ellie then reached into the pocket of her baggy jeans, “I guess it’s your lucky day then.” she said, revealing the most perfectly wrapped blunt you’d ever seen.

“You’re actually god sent Ellie. How are we just now meeting?” The auburn-haired girl gave a small laugh before grabbing your hand and leading you to the backyard. As she pushed the white panel door open, every single ounce of weight that had been lifted off from that one singular conversation, all came crashing back down. Ellie and you weren’t the only ones who adventured outside into the brisk night air. Right on the porch stood Jax, accompanied by your “friend” Samara, who up until this point you didn’t even think was coming. The piece of shit was practically sucking her face off before the creaking sound of the back door sent them 5 feet apart.

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” you yelled, eyes growing dark with rage. Ellie just stood and watched from the corner.

“Babe, please! I swear it’s not what you think!” Jax stumbled forward, attempting to grasp at your figure.

“Don’t you dare try and touch me! You don’t even deserve to look at me. It’s over Jax. I’m done being suffocated by your never ending bullshit!” Knuckles clenched, you continued your lashings, this time at Samara. “I-I thought we were friends. What happened to that?”

“You don’t even like him. You should be thanking me.” she spat. 

“You really don’t get it, huh? This has nothing to do with me liking Jax or not, you completely betrayed our friendship the second you started fucking him behind my back. Friends don’t fuck each other boyfriends Samara!” Before she could even respond Jax was dragging her away, flipping you off on the way inside.

“Ellie-” you squeaked, trembling in shock. 

“Come here, it’s okay love.” she whispered, parting her arms to make a safe space just for you. You collapsed into the warm cavity and relinquished the buckets of tears you had been saving for the moment someone actually gave a fuck. And Ellie did. She never let go of you even for a second as you crumbled under her.

“Jeez I’m sorry.” you said after minutes of pure silence, lifting your head to meet Ellie’s green eyes. 

“For what?”

“For being a drunk mess, crying to you about a man, and also, I think I got a little snot on your shirt.” you tried to laugh it off but you really just wanted to disappear.

Taking your face in her palms Ellie reassured you, “hey, hey no need to be sorry pretty girl. You’ve been through a lot tonight. Besides, I think I look kinda good with this huge ass wet spot in the middle of my tank top. What do you think?” You stepped back and took a look at the damage, and honestly, she was kinda right. With the white cotton material you could see right through to her toned stomach, barely missing the bottom of her breasts. 

“Fine, yes. I’m sure there’s plenty of girls who’d kill to see you in a wet shirt Ellie.”

“Lucky you then.” she said, playfully nudging your shoulder.

You couldn’t help it as the corners of your mouth turned upwards, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“There’s that smile. Soooo… blunt now?”

“Yes. Blunt.”

December 31st, 11:30pm:

And just like that, you were halfway through the chestnut wand of herbs and deep in conversation.  

“So you really haven't seen But I’m a Cheerleader?” Ellie asked, blowing out a puff of smoke with the question and passing it on.

You took the blunt from between her fingers and let it rest between your own, “No. Should I have?” 

“Definitely dude, it’s like queer classic.”

“Oh yeah?” You cocked your head at the freckled faced girl. 

“Yeah. And now that I’m thinking about it, you’re honestly just like the main character.”

“How so?” you asked, taking another long draw. 

“She’s in denial about being gay for like the first 30 minutes of the movie.”

A string of coughs unleashed from your chest as you let out a hefty laugh mid-inhale, “Bitch-”

“What? I’m being so deadass!”

“Fine, what character are you then?” you pry, passing the lit blunt back over to Ellie.

Taking a hit she replies, “I guess I’d be graham.”

“And what does she do?”

“I’m kinda like your awakening in a sense. Graham is all gay and cool, and of course Megan—that's you—totally falls for her.” 

You retrieve the lit cannabis and roll your eyes, “I haven’t fallen for you yet Williams.”

“Yet.” she emphasizes, placing a soft finger to the tip of your nose tauntingly.

“Ha. Ha.” you monotonously mock, “Now here, I think it’s done.” You hand Ellie the roach and she promptly stubs it out into the concrete slab deck.

“Come on, let’s go inside. I’m fucking cold.” she pleas.

“Dude I’m scared. Like I am way too fucked up for this.”

“No, no– I promise you’re fine. I’ll protect you.” 

“Fineee.” you drag out.

December 31st, 11:50pm:

Things were seemingly fine as you and Ellie entered the muggy living area of the packed house once more. Your hesitancy was quite clear though and Ellie could sense you needed just a little reassurance. Your right hand, currently picking away at the hangnail on the thumb of your left, was quickly captured by Ellies own rough hand which led you back to your comfortable spot on the ascending stair set.

As you both took a seat your grip remained tight on the girl, afraid that if you let go you might jump up from your spot right then and there just to give Jax one more lesson. Just the sight of him through the slats of the stairs’ wooden railing—legs casually spread wide and eyes focused in on a casual game of Mortal Kombat—drove you fucking crazy. 

“Dude if you keep staring like that you might actually burn a hole through his dumb ass T-shirt.” Ellie said, nudging your tensed shoulder.

“Good it’s ugly anyways.”

“Fair point.”

“I just have this burning need to get back at him. I wanna beat his ass just like in that game he can’t take his eyes off.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “Very funny, but you wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Oh yeah?” you questioned before laying a soft punch to the girl's forearm. A string of dramatic “Ows” reverberated from her lips. “See, I’m a badass right?”

“Fine you’re a total badass” she agreed begrudgingly, rubbing the soft tissue of her arm where you had left your mark. 

“What? It hurt that bad? You need me to kiss it better?” you taunted. 

“Maybe I do.” she said, longing eyes staring into your own. 

You gulped down any hesitation and felt it drop straight to your nervous stomach, “Where does it hurt?”

Ellie pointed to her arm slowly, “here.”

You placed a soft peck.

Hot breath raising goosebumps to the surface of her skin, “and here”, she gestured to her outstretched neck

Another supple kiss.

“And um-” she continued, but was quickly cut off and brought back to reality with the bellowing sound of a countdown. Too caught up in the moment, you both had almost forgotten about the holiday currently taking place.

FIVE… FOUR… THREE… TWO…

“Can I kiss you?” she blurted frantically, and with no words you dove into her plump, chapped lips. Just like a puzzle piece your bottom lip slotted perfectly between her own. It was a gentle and delicate kiss at first, drinking in the euphoric moment. Quickly though, soft maneuvers of the mouth got quicker and harder. Spit was exchanged with passion and need, as your hands were becoming grabby at the girl's toned figure. The heat growing between your legs was an easy distraction from the fact that you were at a large party, in a hick town, with your ex-boyfriend now hovering over your more than friendly exchange.

January 1st, 12:01am:

“The fuck? You’re a dyke now?” he yells, practically loud enough for the whole party to hear. You and Ellie frantically pull apart, bumping heads in the process.

The calloused hands that were once caressing the small of your back are now balled into tight fists as Ellie rises from her seated position.

“The fuck did you just say?” she questions, tilting her head to the right.

You now stand up with her, worried where this might go, “Jax you need to walk away.”

“Oh shut up slut. You’re so fucking desperate you’d do it with anyone!” 

That one hurt. That was the tipping point. Tears welled in your eyes. 

“I’M NOT A FUCKING SLUT! I’M GAY AND NEVER LIKED YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE!”

“You need to leave now before I do something I’ll regret, you dirty bitch.” he threatens. And that's it, Ellie takes a swing aiming straight for his nose. Her fist retracts and reveals his bloody and now crooked cartilage. Through clenched teeth Jax grips onto Ellies white tank, throwing her into the open space of the living room. Just like a car crash, it’s one of those things where a scene can be so disturbing but you just can’t look away. And everyone else in the room was feeling it too—backed into corners, hands over mouths, some men even obnoxiously chanting “fight, fight.” But this isn’t what you wanted. Not at all.

“STOP! YOU NEED TO FUCKING STOP IT!” you screamed desperately. You didn’t even want to imagine what Jax would do to the freckled girl who changed your life in mere hours. But you didn’t have to, because here they were, brawling it out for the whole school. Jax swung at Ellie’s head to which she ducked before jabbing him in the stomach, stealing whatever air was swimming in his lungs. He stumbled backwards 3 steps, coughing through the hit, but this just made him angrier.

He charged back at the flustered girl with more force and gained a grip on a wad of choppy auburn hair. With a forceful yank she came tumbling to the ground with him on top. Ellie wriggled, pushed, and kicked but the sheer weight of the furious man was enough to keep her pinned. Jax began punching left and right, capturing her face with each blow. Thick crimson decorated his knuckles and the entirety of the girl's face. You could barely make out her litter of freckles and the half-lidded slits of emerald green—it was blood, all blood.

But as Jax kept on going, and the room grew quieter, this fight turned into something much more serious. It was inching on life or death and you had to do something. You surveyed the room, eyes dancing from counter to counter until a large glass beer bottle nagged at the tips of your fingers. Grabbing it tightly in your fist, you did what you had to to end this. Glass and gasps scattered through the room. The sharp brown shards littered the floor and evoked a gushing red stream from the back of Jax’s head. He instantly rolled to the side leaving Ellie an opening to escape. You weren’t done yet though, he hadn’t gotten what he deserved yet. Falling to the floor right at his body, hot tears streamed down your face.

Through curses and screams you thrashed at the man's barely conscious frame, “FUCK YOU JAX! FUCK YOU!” This was for every time he made you feel stupid, for making you feel like the ugliest girl in the room, for all the times he kissed you while you just prayed for it to be over, for making your life a living hell. With each scratch, punch, and kick all the pent up anger and resentment drained from your soul. Ellie let you have at him for a bit but as the crowd started to thin she knew the cops would be here any second now.

“Come on! We gotta go hun!” she nagged. 

“NO I CAN’T! NOT YET” you yelled, collapsing down into tears. Ellie promptly scooped you up by your armpits and dragged you from Jax’s limp body.

“I know baby, you're angry, it’s hard. But the cops are coming and we need to leave now.” she said, picking you up completely and carrying you through the frame of the propped open front door. You nestled your head into her bloody top as your chest still rapidly rose up and down, choking on the last few streams of tears and snot. “I’m gonna get you home love, don’t you worry.”

January 1st, 12:15am:

Finally through the small window of Ellie’s red truck you spot your familiar 2 story home. She grips the steering wheel, whipping to the right into the empty driveway. Of course she helps you inside and up to your quaint little bedroom. It felt weird almost—so quiet and still after such a chaotic night—and void of any life but you and the freckled faced girl. It was a cold feeling knowing you’d be all alone in just a few minutes, and tonight, you weren’t sure if that was a feeling you wanted to know.

“Els?”

“Yeah?” she answered softly. 

“Can you stay?”

With a kiss to the head she agreed, “Of course I’ll stay.” The rest of the night was spent cuddled up under your warm comforter, and despite all the events from just hours before, you felt safe. And for once, in fucking years, you were content.

✄ - - - -   masterlist   - - - -   ♡

taglist...

@endureher @gold-dustwomxn @alexpritch @4rt3m1ss @robinismywifee @sophlovesbooks @97cityy

(taglist is for all callmelola111 works, if you'd like to be removed just kindly lmk)

[heartbreakprincehbk]

Lucky (Kerry Von Erich x Reader)

Words: 2401

Summary: Requested by anon! Reader isn't into Valentine's Day, but Kerry insists on giving her a surprise Valentine's Day date at home. Thanks for the request, hope y'all enjoy!

*images from pinterest

“Any plans for Valentine’s Day tomorrow?” You looked up briefly in mild annoyance and had to remind yourself it wasn’t the grocery store clerk’s fault that they happened to be the third person to ask you that this week.

“No.” You said, giving a stiff smile as you gave them the cash for your items. 

“Yeah, I understand. This time of year is no fun single.” They said, continuing the conversation as they counted out your cash. You debated whether it was worth it to correct them before deciding to keep your mouth shut. “Well, have a great day anyways.” You mumbled something of the same and grabbed your groceries, purposefully looking away from the big Valentine’s display of candies and flowers on your way out of the store.

It wasn’t that you hated love, or even that you were single, it all just seemed kind of pointless. A big over-commercialized competition to make everyone feel bad as though they had to quantify their love with big expensive displays of affection. You simply believed that showing your love in other ways every other day of the year meant more than a big show one day of the year.

Besides, with Valentine’s Day falling on a Saturday, you were more than certain your boyfriend, Kerry Von Erich, was going to be slamming other men into the wrestling mat. You were used to that sort of thing, and it was much worse not having him around on Christmas or Thanksgiving. It was nearly impossible to complain; you knew it bothered him more than you from the pained look in his puppy dog eyes every time he had to leave. You did your best not to make him feel any worse about it. You could handle one Valentine’s Day alone compared to those.

Kerry knew you weren’t a big fan of Valentine’s Day. The very first one you spent together, Kerry had given you a dozen roses, a giant teddy bear, and chocolates, and while you thanked him, you very quickly let him know your preferences. 

“You don’t have to spend all that money on me, it’s not a big deal.” To say he was confused was an understatement.

“Is this a test to make sure I actually still buy you gifts next Valentine’s Day?” Kerry checked. 

“No!” You giggled. “I just don’t think it’s necessary to make a big deal out of one day and waste money.” You hoped he got the message. Really, just being with Kerry was a gift of its own. 

Now, another Valentine’s Day was upon you. So far so good as you woke up with no fanfare. Kerry had already gotten up and was working out in the garage as per usual. When you finally made it downstairs to make some breakfast, Kerry made his appearance. He froze when he saw you.

“Good morning,” you greeted him. He hesitated, looking you over like you were a word puzzle he was trying to figure out. Eventually, he was able to speak. 

“Hey–oh, good morning. So hey, baby, uh…so, my mom and Mike wanted to take you to lunch today.” He explained somewhat awkwardly. You frowned a little.

“But I just saw her for lunch yesterday. She didn’t mention it.” You said. Kerry scratched his head, avoiding your gaze and giving a half-shrug.

“Yeah, uh…well, I think it was last minute. Maybe, uh…Mike’s idea.” You frowned a little. “I gotta shower and go meet Kev. My mom said she would pick you up around 1 pm.” Your frown deepened.

“Okay.” You said, smiling slightly when he pressed a kiss to the side of your head on his way out of the kitchen. 

Doris was right on time with Mike in tow. The three of you went into town to the local deli, where Mike proceeded to take much longer than normal to eat his sandwich. 

“Are you feeling okay?” You asked him. Normally, Mike inhaled his food in three seconds. He looked panicked at your question and took a big bite of his food, prolonging his response.

“I’m fine. Why?” He asked, eyes shifting. You laughed a little. “I’m not acting weird.” From the corner of your eye, you saw Doris shaking her head.

“I didn’t say you were acting weird, but I’m wondering if I need to go complain about your sandwich because normally it would have been gone by now.” You said casually, smiling as Mike’s eyes grew even more panicked.

“No, no! It’s uh, good. Really. I’m just…trying to eat slower. You know, um…avoid choking.” You were biting back a laugh. “Um. Do you have any plans tonight?”

“Mike.” Doris reprimanded. 

“It’s okay.” You said, smiling. “No, I’m just planning on catching up on cleaning and maybe I’ll treat myself to a hot bath and tea or ice cream or something. I know Kerry has his show; if it were closer I would be there.”

“You know, it’s been nice weather the last few days for February. I haven’t had to worry about the plants freezing.” Doris said suddenly with a smile. You nodded, listening pleasantly to her latest tale of trying to keep her vegetable garden alive. 

After lunch you assumed you would all go separate ways, until Mike blurted out. “Uh, Y/N, I was gonna meet Kev at the record store down the street. Do you want to come?” You frowned a little.

“I thought Kerry was meeting Kevin somewhere today?” Mike swallowed.

“Oh, uh…maybe, maybe earlier for a second, but Kev said he was free this afternoon.” 

Your mind was turning. Had Kerry lied to you? You did your best to hide your thoughts as you said goodbye to Doris and walked with Mike to the record store. 

You were positive Mike sifted through every record in that store, but you knew how much music meant to him, so you said nothing and waited patiently, flipping through a stack on your own here and there. You noticed after a while he was hanging on to an Eagles record. 

“Is that a good one?” You asked. Mike shrugged shyly.

“I’ve had my eye on it for a while.” You smiled and took it from his hands.

“My treat. Come on,” his eyes stretched wide. 

“What? Really? But Y/N, you don’t…”

“Tell me if it’s any good.” You insisted as he followed you to the checkout line. “You know, you’ve shown me some great stuff already. I always go to you if I want something new.” You smiled at the way the youngest brother averted his gaze with a bashful chuckle, his cheeks already turning red. Right as you were paying, Kevin walked in the door. 

“Hey you two. Mike, what did you find this time?” Mike excitedly showed his record to Kevin who nodded in approval, before he looked at you. “C’mon, you two. Let’s get you home, Y/N.” He seemed to be in a hurry; that made sense due to the brothers having a wrestling show a town over that night. 

You wanted to ask Kevin about Kerry, but you knew it wasn’t really Kevin’s place or fault if Kerry was lying to you. Was it possible that he had met someone else, was he using the holiday to woo some new girl, maybe a fan he had met? Suddenly, the idea of Kerry waking you up with a dozen roses sent a longing pang through your heart, but you pushed the thought away. You would simply ask Kerry later. 

For now, you focused on the moment you had with Kevin and Mike, laughing in the car together about the last time Ric Flair was in town and the less than welcoming reception he had received, and how Kevin had nearly taken the win and trying not to give into the disappointed feeling creeping up on you.

“See you boys,” you said as Kevin’s truck pulled up in front of your house. “Good luck tonight, Kev. Enjoy that record, Mike!” They both waved and you sighed a little, walking up towards the sure-to-be empty house. The sun was beginning to set ever so slightly, the sky growing more orange and casting shadows over the lawn. Now alone, you allowed yourself to feel crest-fallen. 

You pushed your key reluctantly into the lock, resigning yourself to the evening you had described earlier, only to stop once the door swayed open. In the distance, you could hear faint music playing. You listened for a moment, frowning in confusion. It was a cheesy ballad—Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time.” The lights were off, and you made your way towards the kitchen, where the music was loudest and a hint of warm light was spilling into the hallway.

“Kerry?” You called, gasping at what you saw. Kerry was standing waiting next to the dining table, fighting a big smile, his chin raised and hands behind his back. He was wearing jeans and an apron designed to look like a tuxedo with nothing underneath. The table was covered in a white table cloth and at the center was a big vase of cascading roses, along with more scattered rose petals and two dinner plates. Candles were everywhere, from the table to the kitchen counters, and even a few tea lights on the ground.

“Kerry! What is all of this?” You demanded, frozen on the spot, laughing at his apron. An overwhelming sense of happiness, love, and surprise filled you as you looked from him to the area surrounding you.

“I cooked dinner.” He explained, as if he were discussing the weather, laughing finally as you laughed.

“But why? Kerry, you should be halfway to Tyler right now for the show!” His grin widened.

“Yeah, I know. But Kev’s covering for me; he’s gonna wrestle the tag match and take my spot in the main event too.” 

“What! Why?” You repeated. Kerry laughed again as if you were missing the point and walked closer, wrapping his large arm over the top of your shoulders to pull you closer and kiss the top of your head. 

“You sure do ask a lot of questions.” He noted into your hair, making you chuckle. “Because you’re important and I love you.” He grabbed your hand and led you to the table, pulling out your chair for you to sit before sitting across from you.

“Kerry…” you breathed, looking down at the plate. It was a very impressive looking chicken Parmesan on a bed of pasta. “This looks amazing.” He smiled.

“Thank you. Just don’t look at the sink.” You giggled, imagining a mountain of dishes and utensils. “I’ve been practicing with mom the last two weeks. I think it turned out perfect this time—the first time the chicken was too tough. Anyway, I think I’ve nailed it now.” You were blown away by the effort; Kerry could cook simple and remedial dishes, but an entire entree was surprising. “Try it and tell me what you think.”

He seemed to be waiting to take a bite of his own food until you took yours. You stared at his anxious face as you took the first bite.

“Kerry, this is so good. Wow. You’re definitely gonna have to make this again.” He was back to glowing from your praise. “But, I mean, I still don’t understand why.” His smile softened.

“I know you always said you don’t want a big deal made out of Valentine’s Day and not to fuss over you, but…I can’t help it. I love you, Y/N. I want to do these things. You always said you don’t want me to buy anything, or go out anywhere, so I decided the best way to show you how much I love you is to treat you at home.” 

“And your mother and Mike? Were they in on it too?” Kerry laughed.

“I asked them to hold you up for as long as they could to give me time to decorate and cook.” Suddenly, everything made sense–Mike taking his time eating, dragging you through every corner of the record store, Doris trying to keep your mind off of Valentine’s Day, even Kevin. Suddenly you wondered how you missed all the signs. 

“And you didn’t actually go to meet Kevin.” He looked almost sheepish.

“No…I went to buy the flowers and everything else I needed. But I couldn’t tell you that.” You laughed, shaking your head at how silly your prior worries suddenly seemed. 

“I’m a little embarrassed, but…I was afraid you lied about meeting Kevin because you were meeting someone else and spending the day with them.” You admitted. Rather than getting angry or defensive or even offended, Kerry only looked confused. 

“What? I’d never do that to you, baby. I just wanted to surprise you. I’ve been trying to plan this out for weeks now, I think since Christmas.” A feeling of utter peace and contentment filled you. How lucky were you?

“Oh, Kerry…this is perfect. This is everything I could have wanted. Thank you.” You smiled, and he reached across the table to grab your hand with his much larger one. 

“No, thank you. I just wanted to make sure you were treated right on Valentine’s Day. Because I’m here, and as long as I’m here, you will be.” 

“And every other day?” You teased, laughing. Kerry grinned broadly, his thumb rubbing across your knuckles. 

“Especially every other day.” He promised. “Boy, cooking really gets you hungry.” He said as he picked up his fork again, making you laugh. “I rented a movie too for after, and maybe we can make some ice cream floats. Oh! I’ve been meaning to tell you, the funniest thing happened the other day. The last time Ric Flair came to town, he had a rough time. There was a kid chewing gum in the front row, and he didn’t like Flair, so he took the gum…” 

You listened enthusiastically to Kerry telling the story, despite the fact you had already heard the tale from Kevin. Instead, you settled into your chair and picked up your fork, focusing on the sparkle in Kerry’s eyes, the way the glow of the candles warmed his handsome features as the flames danced, the way his perfectly tousled curls framed his face. Your cozy little kitchen felt warmer than ever and so full of love that it radiated from every nook and cranny. Really, how lucky could you be?

[actual-changeling]

i thought about the end scene of 'beyond the sea' too many times and this is the result. mulder is so soft with her for the entirety of the episode, and it drives me insane.

first ficlet i've ever written for these two, so hopefully i got their voices right.

—

Mulder's hand against her arm is warm and comfortably heavy, a tether keeping her close enough to the ground to not drift away like she's been prone to do for the last few days. When her eyes flutter shut on their own accord, Scully doesn't fight it, all too aware of the hours of sleep she hasn't been getting.

Between fragmented nightmares about her father and the feeling of blood under her fingernails—Mulder's, dried and darkened no matter how hard she scrubbed—the last time she got more than twenty minutes at a time was before she saw her father's ghost in the flickering television light. The regular beeping of the machines echoing through the hospital room calms her somewhat; they're familiar sounds, no matter how far from medical school she might have ended up.

"Maybe you should head home, get some rest," Mulder suggests softly after an extended period of amicable silence, slightly squeezing her shoulder before reclaiming his hand. Her fingers twitch against the sheets as she fights the urge to chase after him, her body suddenly oddly cold. When she opens her eyes again, she catches him staring at her with concern clouding his gaze.

"I'm fine." 

It's a reflexive answer, a lie she keeps telling even though they are both aware she's everything but.

"I know," he replies, smoothing his palm down her arm until he can gently take her hand, and the chill disappears as quickly as it has arrived. "The last couple of days have just been a lot, and you deserve a break."

The noise is out of her mouth before she can stop it—something between a dismissal and a sob, tinged with bone-deep exhaustion. Even if she were to go back to an apartment full of Christmas decorations and unwanted quietude, she wouldn't be able to get any rest at all; not with guilt sitting on the bottom of her lungs and fear poisoning her breaths.

Scully tightens her grasp on his hand and turns to watch his heartbeat weave its way across the monitor. Alive, it whispers, over and over and over. 

Alivealivealive, and no thanks to her. 

She thought about it a few times, only when the darkness seemed entirely ubiquitous and the sleep deprivation spun webs across her ceiling, if maybe her choice to join the FBI, to go against her father's wishes, to put her life on the line while the distance between them grew—if all the stress she caused him somehow made her responsible for his death. 

No matter what she tries to tell herself, her father will still be dead, and Mulder will still be injured because she allowed him to run off alone despite Bogg's warnings. She had known without wanting to that he was going to get hurt, and yet. Always too little, too late.

"…Dana."

A tug on her arm rips her back out of her mind, and the worry carved deep into Mulder's face tells her that he has been trying to get her attention for longer than she can simply shrug off; she attempts to smile anyway and fails miserably.

"Whatever it is you're blaming yourself for, you're wrong."

"Mulder—"

He releases her hand in favour of cupping her cheek exactly as he had days ago in their office, and she relaxes into it without wanting to, the touch warm and comforting.

"If you don't want to go home, at least close your eyes for a little," he smiles for the two of them, his thumb caressing her cheekbone. Whatever protest she was about to utter dies on her tongue, so she simply nods. Mulder pulls back slightly to invitingly lift his arm, and for once, Scully doesn't even pretend to need time to consider it. 

God, she is beyond tired. 

She toes off her shoes and lies down on the scratchy hospital sheets, conscious of his injury as she carefully fits herself against his side. With her cheek resting on his chest and one palm above his heart, Scully closes her eyes and enjoys the comfort of Mulder holding her like she is doing him a favour. 

His fingers trace slow patterns up and down her back, and when she feels him press his lips to her hair, she inches impossibly closer in silent thanks.

The day bleeds from her limbs, and little by little, the tension in her aching muscles dissipates until only exhaustion and a familiar sense of safety remain. For the very first time since waking to see her father's ghost in her living room, sleep comes easily and remains completely dreamless. 

Mulder keeps her wrapped in his embrace and rests easier than he has in years.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA in this friendship? give me a minute here, it's more complicated than it sounds

I'm 19 years old, female. So there's this friend, we'll call her B (also 19F). We've been friends for years, since elementary. We've been good friends for that time, I thought.

But especially during high school, it was hard to spend time with her. She was always convinced the friend group hated her even though all I'd ever hear was that they liked her and were confused/frustrated/hurt as to why she thought that. She's always had a lot of mental illness going on (depression, anxiety, ADHD, etc) so I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. She spent most of her time in another part of the school refusing to spend time with me or the friend group saying she wanted "alone time" even though she was surrounded by other friends.

I knew she was feeling unwanted within the friend group, so I tried to spend time with her when she would let me. But it kind of alienated me from the rest of the friend group so I spent a good portion of my lunches alone. Plus, even though she would say its ok for me to be there, sometimes it felt like she hated me and my presence. But then she would turn around and tell me I was the only one she could be truly honest with, etc, etc.

The reason I tried not to pay too much heed to the idea that she might really hate being my friend is because I also struggle with anxiety pretty badly. I've been working really really hard to just listen to what people tell me, because I can't trust what I'm telling me.

But this feeling continued after high school, and it felt like there was something I didn't know, like she secretly hated me and only put up with me.

Almost every time I would invite her to do something, she would try to invite someone else too. That's fine, but when it happens almost every time... it made me feel like I was unwanted.

I got really clingy. I'll admit that. I texted her often (most days a week) and would get anxious when she didn't respond within a couple of hours, leading to me double, triple texting most of the time. She told me not to text her during work, but how am I supposed to know for sure? She told me her hours once, but I have no record of it and I don't expect her to memorize my schedule so I feel like that's unfair. Plus, if I didn't press for an answer, I often wouldn't get one at all or wouldn't get one for days. Like one time I tried to schedule a time to hang out a few weeks in advance. She told me she would get back to me, but then the day before, still nothing. I texted over and over again, trying to get an answer, until she got mad at me for texting so much and told me she didn't think hanging out would work out. But the point is I got clingy, in a way that I understand made her anxious.

My anxiety got the better of me and I decided to stop contacting her. I held to it for a couple of months, aside from wishing her happy christmas/new years. But my birthday came and went for the second year in a row without a word, and I decided I needed to talk to her about it.

I did, and although she refused to do it in person like I wanted, I thought it was a pretty good conversation. She told me about a couple things I was doing to make her uncomfortable. I promised to work on those and being less clingy. I told her I need her to be honest about the things that bother her, and she said she needed time to work on that skill. She said she was thinking a month, maybe less, so i agreed not to contact her first during that time and she promised to contact me soon.

I didn't hear from her for three months. I finally broke down and texted her, asking to talk it out and telling her this arrangement wasn't working for me. She didn't respond for almost a week. I needed peace of mind, so I said I was done with waiting and I would be open to rekindling the friendship later, but I wasn't going to hold my foot in the door for her any longer. No response again.

I remembered I owed her money and asked her when would be a good time to drop it off (it was not like five bucks, it was a fair amount of money so I didn't want to like leave it on a doorstep or something). No response again for a day. I told her if I didn't hear from her in a couple of days I was going to keep the money.

She finally responded a day later, saying she didn't have the energy for a "high maintenance" friendship and to leave the money in her mailbox.

I don't know who was at fault here. I mean, I was clingy and I ended the friendship, but she didn't give me a chance to change and didn't stick to her word. But I don't know if contacting her again after those three months was clingy? I really don't know, and the end of this friendship has been tormenting me. I just want to know who was at fault and then I can deal with it, but I honestly don't know.

Also, WIBTA for contacting B again and trying to rekindle the friendship?

Please do not ask multiple questions in a single submission. It just confuses things and makes it hard for people to vote in the poll.