#HE WAS LIKE “do u remember me? do u remember me?”

[gyuswhore]

unbreaking

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

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

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

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” he grins. 

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

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

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

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

“Your jacket—” you start. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah! I like him, he’s cool.” 

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

“Probably.”

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

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

“Because I like him better. Duh!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The look you give him is enough. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you stop following me to said places?”

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

“I do. Stubborn till the end.”

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

“No one’s here,” he whispers to you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[dadsbongos]

on hard times

5.4k words / summary - jimmy needs a place to stay, and what place is better than with his enabling best friend, curly, and curly's hot step-daughter? nothing could go wrong!

warnings - fem!reader, piv sex, noncon jimmy, stepcest, objectification/sexism (thank u jimmy), curly and jimmy should both be shot in the head

reader is 20 not actually a teenager.

[B Side: Jimmy Zare]

Sitting in a hospital room is not unfamiliar to Jimmy, the only peculiarity to it now being that he’s the one in a gown with his ass out. He’s perched over the edge of the bed now, elbows on his knees and flicking an unlit cigarette between two fingers. Below him is a head of flaxen hair, thick hands unzipping a black bag full to the lumps of plain long-sleeves and jeans and socks.

Grant Curly is Jimmy's sole emergency contact. Mrs. Grant Curly used to be Curly's emergency contact. Next was Grant Curly senior. Then Jimmy Zare.

Jimmy thinks that's fucked up. He should have a Mrs. Jimmy Zare and a Jimmy Zare senior and then, finally and as a last resort, there would be Grant Curly.

But, unfortunately, that’s just not true.

Curly now rolls socks on both Jimmy’s feet. Patting the man’s ankle in a way meant to be reassuring, but only squeezes repulsion from Jimmy’s face.

“I can dress myself,” he sneers.

Lots of remarks could’ve followed from Curly’s mouth -- most apparent being: why’d you let me get this far? None of them come, though, Curly simply nods and stands and kicks the bag closer to where Jimmy’s legs dangle over the edge.

“You got everything?” Curly grimaces at his own question, “What happened to your phone?”

Jimmy shrugs before shucking on a stiff pair of jeans, grunting with the effort and cupping his bruised over stomach, “Dunno.”

Curly bites back a sigh, Jimmy watches it happen in real time: a little bit more faith in him is eaten back by disappointment.

All the same, he pulls over a black long sleeve. Violet stomach screaming in protest as he hisses a curse for his dimwitted neighbor, stumbling back into the bed.

“Alright,” Curly bends, hands out to assist Jimmy in standing, “Let’s get you home.”

Jimmy elbows his friend away, paying no mind the pained wheeze he lets out, before stumbling onto two feet by himself. In the hand not bracing his abdomen, is a crinkled plastic bag with vomit-stained clothes and a peeling leather belt.

In silence they wade through the buzzing clinical halls. Hours prior this same hallway was in chaos, Jimmy knows that -- he just doesn’t remember it. Not between yellow-black dots sucking out the light in his eyes or the stinging remnants of bile around his teeth. Now the corridor is sleepier, and stars are beginning to crawl out from behind the horizon.

Jimmy wonders if he waited until now- if his neighbor would’ve had her kids already in bed, too tired to check out the next trailer over rattling-

He supposes it doesn’t matter. He’s already breaking out toward the parking lot with Curly.

Who then takes a bold step toward the bubblegum Jeep with no back doors, which he knows is not Curly’s car. Meaning one thing,

“Oh,” Curly says like a last minute thought, “Kid’s home, by the way. I hope that’s fine.”

He smiles in such a tight way that slyly communicates: it better be fine because there’s no fighting this. All importance Mrs. Grant Curly took up in the man’s life was drained instantly when she served divorce papers; a space rapidly refilled with the child from a previous marriage. The crooked thorn in Jimmy’s side. The new emergency contact. You.

“Why do you even have a room for it?” Jimmy shuffles into the passenger side, scooting the seat forward and leaving the seatbelt dangling at his shoulder, “Not your kid.”

Curly waves off such criticism, “I love her! She’s nice and funny, everything I could’ve wanted.”

“Ugh,” Jimmy gags, eyes fluttering shut, “Do I get my own room, or do I have to share?”

If his eyes were open, he’s certain he’d be forced to gaze upon that same pressed smile. That stale smile that says more than enough. Jimmy will not like this.

“You got the couch or my bed,” a click and hum vibrates Jimmy in his seat before the car electrifies with whistling pop music. Big chunky tires rolling onto the highway back into clean cut suburbs.

Jimmy cringes at the moaning welps over the radio and flings a hand out, one eye creaking open just enough to make out the volume knob between his crowding lashes. Twisting it far down while croaking,

“You’re a grown ass man, the fuck are you listening to that shit for?”

“It’s just what she left on,” Curly’s jovial, despite the rude quizzing, “You don’t like a bit of girly pop?”

Jimmy glares, turning his whole head to spit daggers toward his friend, “If that little cunt is playing this shit while I’m over, one of us is dying.”

Curly just laughs, then quietly murmurs -- too quiet to be taken seriously, “Don’t call her that.”

Curly is like the sun. Big and bright and nurturing no matter how violently you resist. Making Jimmy mercury: small and red and forever revolving around him.

Upon pulling into the broad driveway up to Curly’s two-story home, Jimmy’s already rich negative attitude only sours more. He spots the sleek little navy blue Toyota Corolla (that’s seen more blood and sweat and tears than your cute two-seater would ever know about) closer to the door.

“Why’d you pick me up in this if your car was here?”

“I figured you’d appreciate this one more,” Curly snarks, killing the engine and jingling your ring of chains with two keys. One for the house and one for your car. Aside from that is a rose gold blinged out rectangle with your name on it, pink little plastic cats, a metal fairy, and purple fuzzy dice.

“Figured wrong,” Jimmy slinks out, curling the clear bag of his belongings to his chest before patting the plastic with loud ‘pops’ as the pair steps through the front door, “I wanna wash this.”

Curly hisses lowly, head turning toward the very obviously clunking washing machine in the utility closet, “I think she’s doing a load right now.”

Ideally, Jimmy would toss his shit in with yours but God forbid the princess gets just a little crusted vomit washed off alongside her delicate thin dresses and lace panties.

“Then I just leave this shit?”

“Looks like it.”

Jimmy really hates you -you’re a little bitch. And you’re hopping down the stairs in a yellow Pony Express shirt three sizes too big for you, smiling, waving, melodically chirping:

”Hi, Uncle Jimmy!”

“Don’t call me that,” Jimmy huffs at you, eye rolling while Curly’s back still faces him from the kitchen.

You stop at the foot of the steps and pout out at him, “Jeez, aren’t you rude? Did they have to amputate your heart out there?”

Jimmy rolls his eyes again, this time with more apparent gusto. He flips you off to boot. You pull an offended scowl before trampling over to Curly and tugging the back of his shirt, murmuring dirt and shit and lies into his big ear. Curly doesn’t spare the energy of twisting back before calling out,

“Jim’ play nice, please?!”

Jimmy hates you. You’re not even Curly’s. You were just some teenage sulk when you came into their lives, and now you’re some codependent wimp living at home. Despite the blonde never complaining about this fact, Jimmy just knows it’s insane that you’re still clinging around. It’s all that pampering Curly did on you.

You skip back out, hands tied behind your back with that awful smile. Rosy lipped with just the perfect sliver of teeth showing, and the apples of your cheeks glowing. The best part of you perched like that is that he can make out the plumpness of your tits -- could probably even reach out and squeeze one before you manage untangling your hands to shove him off.

“So, how long are you staying?” your soft voice grates him again,

Shrugging at you, Jimmy confesses, “Until I get my own house back.”

Your mouth opens, brows furrowed, then they dart up in shock -or perhaps realization- and your mouth closes. You nod and look back at Curly, then again at Jimmy, “Okay,” and prattle back into the kitchen.

Murmuring ensues.

That’s when Curly presses, “Jim’, are you takin’ my room or the couch?!”

More murmuring. You hiss something and he can see the whip of your arm as you whack the blonde’s arm. He laughs quietly and waltzes out, shaking his head a bit,

“Sorry, little lady says you’ve gotta take the couch.”

Jimmy’s scowl must be so hilarious because Curly just laughs harder. You come out whining, smacking at the man’s arm again with a belated shush.

Your concern is brushed off without thought, “It’s just Uncle Jimmy.”

You love Grant, really. He’s been a massive teddy bear since the day you met, but his fatal flaw is his guilted sense of devotion. Especially when it revolved around dear old Uncle Jimmy.

A soft jingle and hiss clues you all to the sudden silence where a machine once clanged. Jimmy spares no seconds before thumbing over his shoulder and seething at you, “Change your load over. I got shit to wash.”

“Grant, don’t let him talk to me like that!” you stomp your foot and whine.

“‘Grant’,” Jimmy mimics your voice, tone nasally and drawn impossibly high.

“Already bickering,” Curly plasters on his worst smile yet, hands fisted on his hips, “This’ll be a good time.”

***

It, decidedly, has not been a good time.

Not in the mornings.

“Grant’s out for his jog,” you mumble around a spoonful of fruity cereal. Milk faintly pink from the artificial dyes.

Jimmy doesn’t even dignify you with a response, prowling from the bed with his striped pajama pants sagging and an unmatching black beater swerved to expose one of his nipples.

“You have a tit piercing?” said with undeniably judgment. Poking the bear just to prove it won’t do anything.

As expected, you receive sullen silence. Jimmy only confirms he heard you in how he roughly yanks the thin material to cover the silver bar through his nipple.

That’s precisely when you spot something sure to make the bear roar. Thin line upon thin line, now blistering white and all stacked in uneven rows along each forearm. A couple stretch past his elbow. You open your mouth, then think better of pointing those out. Partially from some undeserved pity, and partially because of some fleeting certainty he’ll actually kill you over that remark.

“Slept in real late today, huh?” is what you decide on instead.

Jimmy, again, completely skimps you. Rooting around the cabinets until he finds the shiniest bowl and clacking it loudly on the marble counter. Taking down your box of pebbles cereal, ignoring your scoffed protests, and pouring out an overly generous portion. Despite his determination to dodge you, he throws down his bowl -splattering milk over the hardwood table as he does- right beside yours.

Chair skidding out before he hunches over the table. Elbows ungracefully planted on either side of his bowl.

From your peripherals, you watch Jimmy eat. Milk dribbles down his greyed scruff and he crunches open-mouthed, you can identify each sugary morsel just before it’s mashed into rainbow paste. No amount of blatant cringing or sighing does you any favors, so you resort to simply abandoning breakfast before you hurl what’s gone down.

Little do you know that as you rise, so too does the material of your itty bitty silk shorts. Riding up into your ass until fat is spilling out the bottom, and Jimmy hones in on the sight as soon as you’re up. Following with utmost interest as you round the table and perch onto the silver sink ledge, flicking on the hot tap. Definitely prettier bent over the counter than when you’re talking.

If you were his step-daughter you’d probably never leave the house. He’d have the door deadbolted from the outside.

Jimmy blinks at that. Leaning back in his chair, stare unwavering as your hips veer left and right with the effort of scrubbing out dried cereal, and folding his arms. He blinks again, this time with more confidence in his chest.

There’s a reason you’re here, and it isn’t because you’re Curly’s kid.

“Hey,” Jimmy’s voice is buried in the back of his throat, all gravel and rock beneath every different thing he actually wants to say. Eyes rounding over your exposed ass cheeks, “Why’d your parents split?”

Your guttural offense is pretty indicating, “Grant’s not my dad.”

“You still live with him.”

“Yeah, when I’m not on campus.”

Jimmy’s silence is so stagnant, you have to turn to confirm he’s still in the room.

Surprisingly, he is, and he’s staring right at you. Every muscle in his face stony, a hardset confidence as if he knows everything before he even opens his mouth, “Your mom’s just downtown, isn’t she?”

Rather than rationalize -whether it’s a lie or not- you swallow the nerves in your throat and turn back on him, “Why do you care so much? Do you wanna live here forever or something?”

“Call it curiosity.”

“Then be curious about why you don’t have your own place yet,” if you spent even a second longer at that sink then you would’ve gotten a ceramic bowl buried into your skull.

Luckily you immediately break for the stairs, jumping them two at a time (joke’s on your stupid ass anyway, now he’s memorizing the way your tits jiggle up each step).

Not out on errands.

Jimmy’s leaning against the rickety cart with a plastic red handcover. Head drooped to one shoulder, silently observing as you stretch up to grab a jar of Curly’s favored peanut butter from the top shelf.

“You can ask for help,” Jimmy sneers.

You ignore him, flagrantly. Even kicking a leg onto the bottom shelf, selfishly knocking over thin blue boxes of macaroni with your other foot stretching backward. One hand clutching the middle of the bay for purchase, the other high above your head.

“Fine, be a bitch about it,” he sighs and sinks back.

Suddenly thankful he did because at this angle with you reaching for that height: your little cotton panties suctioned against your pussy lips become visible beneath that teeny pleated skirt. A studded belt hangs limply around the loops.

The swell of your ass is more obvious from down here, too.

Jimmy hangs a little more to the side, slowly fishing out his phone and holding it at his chest. Eyes drawing toward the screen as he ensures his flash is off before snapping a far away picture. Then two fingers crawl over the glass, pinching at your cunt and zooming in for another three pics.

Briefly, he wonders if he could get away with reaching out and pulling aside the gusset for the holy grail of shots.

Just as his hands are twitching to carry out the mull-over, you’re fucking turning. Sweaty and huffing,

“Okay, fine, can you grab this?”

Jimmy pockets his phone with an eye roll and easily swipes the orange-lidded jar into your cart.

Not at dinner.

“You get this every night?” Jimmy asks, undeniably lewd with thighs sprawled apart on the chair. A hand clutching either knee.

Curly shrugged, hands politely folded over his abdomen, “Not every night. Sometimes we order in.”

“Your own housewife in training,” Jimmy whistles, watching you at the stove and not bothering to temper his volume, “Guy that puts a ring on it will be lucky.”

Out of minuscule respect for Curly, Jimmy decides against vocalizing the rest of his statement.

Still, though, Curly has the gall to look offended. Broad chest puffing out and thick jaw setting into a disturbed square. Hands curling around each other less politely now, and his knee starts bouncing as he says,

“Won’t need a husband when dad’s here for her.”

Jimmy can only laugh as you visibly cringe upon the utterance of that dreaded ‘D’-word.

“What do you think of that, kid?” Jimmy rolls one elbow over the back of his chair, spare hand now flattening over the table, “No husband, just Dad.”

“He’s not my dad…” you grumble, not unlike that pouty, sulky teenager you were when you and Jimmy first met.

“Well, any dating prospects?” it’s the most tender Jimmy has been with you yet, and by the immediate glow in your face he can read your appreciation.

Curly, however, is the one to answer -a much more rotten expression written over his face, “No,” he frightens himself with how aggressively the two letters spit out, so he tries again with the tiniest, fakest chuckle, “No suitors yet.”

And now you’re pissed, glaring at Curly before whipping right back around.

Jimmy revels in it. Watching you and your step-dad silently bat one argument over the other. He wonders if you two really think it’s all over his head.

And certainly not at night.

On the way to your room is Curly’s. Curly is a deep sleeper, so Jimmy has never felt more assured than right now as he twists the handle on your bedroom door.

Unlocked. As it should be. Your sweet heart entirely unassuming to the dangerous wiles of men twice your age.

He bets your pussy is even sweeter than your heart. It has to be when your personality is so gratingly cliche. Maybe by the end he’ll be even more bewitched by you than Curly.

The thought makes him snort.

Steadily planting a knee onto your marshmallow mattress, Jimmy soothes one hand over your thigh -- kicked over fluffy pink blankets. Soft skin that bounces right back into place. Firm and dewy. Your body embraces him completely, which he already knew it would.

A crackly groan makes his eyes dart from your thigh to your face scrunching at the sudden contact.

Silently, he squeezes, just to see the exact moment you rouse behind those batting lashes.

Initially, you smile -tight-lipped- until your bleary vision makes out the figure on your bed. That exact moment, when you realize who’s groping up your thigh, is when your smile tears apart.

“Calm down,” he husks into the open air of your bedroom, calloused palms cutting along your waist and pausing at the warmth of your collar bones, “It’s just Uncle Jimmy.”

Now is when you kick. A startled gasp shoved back behind the palm of his hand, fingers clamping tight around your jaw. He swings a leg over yours, effectively straddling your pelvis. Grinding down between your legs, something thick and hard protruding from the loose stripes of his pajama pants.

“Feel that?” he taunts, pressing against you harder, lowering his face by yours until the stiff scruff along his cheeks is tearing up your soft skin, “That’s my dick, and it’s going inside you.”

A scream is muffled against his thick palm, you smack at his ribs but he pushes forward without constraint, wrenching up your silk candy slips. The sleaziest little smirk smears over his entire face as your boobs spill out, he cuffs the material to your throat. Pressing your legs open with his own, kneeling on one of your thighs with his full weight and you’re sure the bone’s going to snap. Another scream dies against his meaty hand.

Reaching up, you knot one hand in his stringy hair -yanking out chunks of chestnut- and crushing fingerprints into his eyes.

“Be -fuckin’- nice,” Jimmy tugs you down the bed, blanketing your body with his, “to Uncle Jimmy, yeah?” he snickers in your wide-eyed, sweaty face, quickly swapping the hand over your mouth with his lips. Spearing your face open with his tongue, slobbering over you.

Burying your knees into Jimmy’s sides does about as much as it would if you flicked paper in his face.

Jimmy peels off your thin lace panties, balling them up in one hand and yoinking down his pants with the other. Stretchy hem now digging halfway down his thighs, he taps the hot head against your clit. Then sliding it down your slit, highlighting around your hole with two circles. Grunting against your lips, sinking just beneath the seam to drag back up toward the twitchy little pink bundle up top.

Licking over your tongue one final time, he saps up the final sweet mint taste from your toothpaste before pulling back. Pecking you, outrageously chaste for a man now bruising your tits with his fingers, before parting altogether.

Sneering, “Keep quiet for me,” and stuffing your own panties into your sodden, swollen mouth.

Jimmy heaves your knees over his shoulders, bending over you before sliding in -- staring you dead in the eyes as he lets out the most dramatic huff. You gasp as he sheathes in a single swing, throwing your head back at the sudden stretch with a grunt following.

“Soft and warm,” he hums, biting at your pulse with sick glee, “Tight.”

You wail in protest, but it gurgles out a little sweeter. Just a tad higher pitched than you mean for. Eyes watering and back arching as you try budging for even slight breathing room.

Stubbornly, Jimmy locks his chest against your bouncing tits. Eyes needling down at the pillowing flesh, hard nipples peeking out with every ragged thrust. Thrusts that get smoother, steadier, wetter the longer he’s inside you.

Cold teeth dig into your neck, velvet tongue laving the area as he sucks welts along your skin. Hot pants fanning the juncture with every gushy dive of his hips. Then he laughs out the cruelest dig when that first splat rings around the sweltering room:

“Take it so good, princess,” just to continue with a snide, “Knew you would.”

Biting down on your spit-soaked panties provides superficial comfort, squeals still leaking from the corners of your mouth. Muffled, but not silenced.

“What would your old man think about this?” he chokes, pulling up enough to stare down at your pinched face, “You’re gonna cum for me.”

One of his hands settles over your throat, crushing the sides warmly. Not enough to actually choke you, but just so there’s bruises by tomorrow morning.

“He’ll have to get rid of one of us,” Jimmy hisses coldly, now scarring his bottom lip with crooked teeth, brows furrowing as his cock twitches in your sucking cunt.

it better be you he thinks curly was mine before you

He spits down onto where you’re swallowing him up -- frothy spit dribbling cooly over your clit and along the broken seam he fucks. Instinctually, your hips buck up for it -for more. Thighs clamping around his neck and throat bobbing with a trapped moan.

A practically inaudible yadyyee manages to break past your gag, Jimmy snickers as you crow louder aaatyyyy as you seize around and below him. Eyes flying open and nails scratching up to reopen silvery scars on his arms as you nearly choke on your own slick panties.

“And is this the part when I call you ‘baby’?” he draws a thumb beneath your shiny lip, spit webbing your skin together, “Whore,” is what he chooses instead, “Cumming like the pretty slut I knew you were.”

And just like the slut he knew you were the second he saw you, you grind into his pistoning. Tears caking your lashes and cheeks flaming hot, your body still caves to any attention it’s given.

He knew it the second you were introduced to him. In a spaghetti strap and short shorts with bleached bangs. Dressed like every other little pornstar in the making. Hellbent on catching as many eyes as possible just to rip it away like he was some yippy puppy content to be played with and walked and given little treats. Maybe your dad was, but Jimmy never had that paternal instinct.

Jimmy just wanted to defile you.

And now you live under the same roof: you’re all his.

Last minute, Jimmy slides out easier than he went in and beats his cock into your pubes. Rivulets of your wetness roll down the curve of your ass with nothing to plug you up, sheets darkening beneath you.

Tugging your panties out so hard he nearly knocks out a tooth, Jimmy balls them again and licks up the drool from your chin. Knuckles catching your overstimulated clit as he frantically jerks off, hips cracking forward until your pelvis is streaked in thick white ropes.

Pitchy and broken you wail, “Daddy…!”

Jimmy could’ve cackled in your face, if not for the sound of metal clicking over his shoulder.

And maybe the sight before him -Curly in the doorway, clutching the brass knob hard enough for his knuckles to whiten- could’ve been terrifying. Men kill other men for touching their daughters, after all. But all that intimidation flies out your window, decorated with the daintiest peach curtains, as soon as Jimmy spots the tent in Curly’s boxers.

Curly reads the electric glint in his old friend’s eyes. Something bright and livelier than he’s seen from the man in a long while.

Something that makes him feel relieved he doesn’t have to keep the medicine cabinet locked.

Something that says: I know why your wife left you.

*** ***

[A Side: Grant Curly]

“It’s late, Grant…”

“I told you not to call me that.”

An eye roll is the last thing he wants to see. He scowls, drunkenly, and shoves his head into his hands with all the indignity of a child.

“You really think drinking makes you easier to talk to? It’s no wonder you make her so…”

“So what?”

The stilted silence preceding a sigh tells him the what he needs to know. Unhappiness permeates the house now. Having it all pinned on him feels so fucking unfair, so fucking untrue.

“You know what,” another sigh, this time more playful -more throaty and evidently annoyed, “Daddy.”

“I thought marriages didn’t fall apart until at least the fifth year…” he pouts up at you, again with all the righteousness of a toddler.

You smack his arm, “You guys have been dating longer, anyway. Besides, you kinda knew it wasn’t gonna work out, right?”

“I thought we’d be okay.”

Two hands settle on either of his shoulders. Thumbs pressing into the knotted muscle between his shoulder blades and up toward his stiff neck. Pulling tense flesh until he’s all malleable and soft again.

Curly groans, pleased, and leans into your touch. Laying his head against the back of the couch to stare up at you. A lopsided smile gracing his lips as he confesses with whiskey-slick lips,

“You’re a blessing, sweetheart.”

You grace him with one of those humble, tight-lipped grins that make him all gooey in the center. A paternal feeling, he’s sure.

Whenever your mother upsets him, you’re there.

More things make Curly want to kill himself than they don’t these days. He has the sick urge to fellate a gun after most minor inconveniences, and suddenly the only way he can feel true joy is when someone half his age is fawning over him. It should be another reason he wants to die, but it isn’t. You could never be.

He places a thick hand on yours and grins, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Looping both arms around his neck, you settle your heated cheek over the back of Curly’s head and squeeze. Flushing your breasts against his back with a sugary whisper, “Probably die miserable.”

“Probably,” he reaches up to squeeze your wrist.

Knowledge would be him pushing you off right now. Wisdom would be kicking you out of his house. But that ripe, sweating instinct makes him encourage you to slither over the back of the couch.

He pulls at your cropped sweater, laughing in your flustered face as you giggle. Legs wild before you’re slipping into his lap, thighs spreading yours apart with his hands on your hips. Thumbs scarring up your bare ribs.

“How are you so like her, but so different?” he wonders aloud.

“I dunno…” you shrug off shyly. Hips ticking against his.

“Mhmm,” he lets you and leans back, eyes fluttering shut as warmth eats him from both directions. Your body is sweet while the alcohol is savory. Both ways, he’s treated with nothing but love.

Then there’s your lips on his cheek, he smiles into it. Turns his head just to kiss the air above your own cheek as he sighs,

“Thank you, baby.”

“Daddy,” your hips cant down harder and now he has to plant both feet firmly in the ground to keep from thrusting up. That would just be inappropriate, right? But no more inappropriate than what you utter next, “Can I suck you off?”

His eyes peel open one at a time. Bloodshot. Confused, “Huh?”

“I know Mom doesn’t,” you grind down on him again. The material of your oversized sleep shirt riding up. Nothing but pink lace panties greet him. Damp and sticking to his shorts, “But I really want to…”

“Uhh,” maybe if you could let him think for a second, he’d have replied better. Maybe if you could stop rubbing that wet cunt on him for even one breath, he could’ve given you the emphatic NO you deserved. But you didn’t, so he didn’t.

Instead, he just sat you on the floor and waved with one hand while the other came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “Fine, fine, yes.”

Already, the carpet burns your knees. But you rock forward and unclink his buttons.

Without technique, but eager and hungry: your mouth sinks onto his cock. Feeling it twitch and thicken on your tongue as you whine. Hollowing your cheeks with both hands burying manicured nails into his meaty thighs. Noisily slurping the spit dribbling past your gaping lips.

Sucking more than you can handle, trying to impress Grant by tickling your nose with his wiry gold pubes just makes you gag. An abrupt gush of thick slobber waxing his pelvis.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, throwing his head back with bending brows, “Be careful, honey, don’t hurt yourself…”

Despite himself, he’s knotting hand at the back of your head. Not-so-subtly pushing your forehead against his abs.

Curly cannot verbally explain or comprehend his relationship with you in labels, the guilt just eats him up.

The comfort of a stepdaughter should be non-existent -or at the least temporary, but you’re still here. You love him and he adores you. He has no strength to beat you away.

*** he really should just die ***

Little under a year spins by before his phone rings, interrupting the unquestioned domesticity.

You caught bits of that call while perched on the kitchen counter. Bare legs left to swing while Curly stirred creamer into his coffee. His old Pony Express shirt swamped over you. A girl’s voice blisters out from the other side. You glare at the speaker in juvenile jealousy despite how displeased Curly seems to be listening to her.

Occasionally he’ll nod, no matter how ridiculous the notion is given you’re the only one looking. Jaw popping. Fingers tapping.

“But he’s alive?” is the first thing of substance he says.

Curly is Jimmy Zare’s emergency contact because Jimmy never had a Misses or a Senior to count on. Not even the highly inappropriate relationship with a young girl to lean on.

You assume that is all connected to the phone call that suddenly has him all serious.

“Okay. I’ll be out there soon,” he nods again, making you want to rip his head off it’s so cute how stupid he is sometimes, “He can stay with me… I’ll be sure.”

He doesn’t look your way after hanging up. Instead, he spares a few minutes blankly staring into the cabinets.

Curly thinks Jimmy is like the sun. Big and angry and burning with barely contained passion. Making Curly mercury: small and burnt and the first to be swallowed when Jimmy inevitably blows up.

It’s so cute how stupid he is sometimes.

“Grant?” you murmur, head tilting.

He finally satisfies your need for attention. Eyes widening as if he spontaneously forgot and then remembered who he’s looking at. He smiles tightly and pats your knee like he’s trying to comfort a child after a lost softball game,

He even speaks to you like one.

“Uncle Jimmy’s staying with us for a bit,” before you can ask anything more, he turns away toward the front door, “Try not to fight with him.”

“Eugh… He’s weird!” you protest, “Can’t he stay at a hotel?!”

Curly pokes his head out and shakes it, disappointed, at you, “He’s staying with us,” then disappears to announce, “I’m going to pick him up! Be dressed when we get back!”

You wait until he’s slammed the front door behind him before muttering, “I am dressed.”

Uncle Jimmy is the type of person men shouldn’t trust their daughters with, so maybe this is a step forward. Somewhere in the knotted affair your life became, a gleaming light assures you this means Grant has his eyes on a new Mrs. Curly.

It’s so cute how stupid step-daughters are sometimes.

@toxycodone / @maniacpixiedreamboy + @xyfanficarchive + @m-carriaga2021 + @reniverse 

[starrieangel]

🎄❤️Mouthwashing Crew on Christmas💚🎁

Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday ♡ Here's my present to you all: more headcanons!!

Features: Curly x Reader, Anya x Reader, Daisuke x Reader, Jimmy x Reader

rb's appreciated! 💚❤️

Curly☃️

I think Curly would love surprising you..!

He's up before you, already has the coffee (or hot chocolate or tea) ready for you when you wake up. 

When you finally get out of bed, there's extra presents under the tree, and the tree is even more festive and beautiful than how you left it!!

(Is Curly Santa..??)

He's not materialistic in the slightest, but a good gift means a lot to Curly if it shows you put a lot of thought into it..! It makes him feel special that you are thinking about him ^u^

He's a good gift giver, but bad at wrapping them XD He's trying his best ok !!!

After opening presents, you guys cuddle and watch your favorite goofy christmas movie while cuddled up in your new sweaters/socks/blankets :)

His favorite part of Christmas is Christmas dinner tho, and you guys whip up a big feast and invite all your friends and family !!! 

He’s the classic “my boyfriend only cooks meat” stereotype, like he cant cook but he will fuck up a christmas ham or a thanksgiving turkey or a barbecue.. let him cook fr

Bonus: Curly is definitely the Santa at the office Christmas party..!! Maybe you get to sit on Santa's lap ;D 

Anya❄️

Panicking because she's bad at getting gifts..!! 

She gets to the store and.. oh no there's too many choices

“I'm not sure what candy Y/N likes... I'll just get one of each.. oh dear..”

She would try making handmade gifts like sewing or knitting or crochet but she doesn't get them done til the last minute...

She dang near cries when you see the itchy, raggedy sweater she made you and you beam at her “I love it!!!” and you do! because she made it ♡

I feel like she likes peppermints and candy canes... just her vibe

You two make a gingerbread house together !!

Yes it falls apart a little, but it doesn't matter because you both had so much fun making it :) (and decorating it with all that candy she bought !!)

Bonus: She is a based eggnog drinker. And maybe she does spike her and Daisuke's eggnog at the office Christmas party ;D

Daisuke🎁

Ugly Christmas Sweater Party Winner 3 years in a row

(I like the popular headcannon that Daisuke likes thrifting, so) He loves going to the thrift to find ugly christmas sweaters (so you can match) and even finding cool antiques/retro items to give as gifts!

Always gives at least one prank gift, but otherwise he is pretty thoughtful! 

He doesn't get you a present unless it really reminds him of you! I feel like he gifts thrifted vinyls and jewelry, secondhand designer, like his gifts are honestly peak and they're always perfect for you

He's in charge of the Christmas party!! and he's committed to packing as many christmas themed activities into it as possible

Dedicated Christmas Movie Showing, gotta watch all the classics!

Hot chocolate bar, christmas cookie buffet, pin the nose on the reindeer, ALL OF IT 

Strategically ties mistletoe to ensure highest occurrence of Kissing You ;3 “Uh, oh, Y/N! Looks like we're caught under the mistletoe.. again! How unlucky.. guess we'll have to.. you knowww..” >:3c

Bonus: He would get tipsy at the office christmas party and would try to hug you or kiss you the whole time, and you’re like “plz ur embarrassing me”

Jimmy🎄

Jimmy is actually really good at getting gifts. Like, really good. Like, you mentioned this thing in passing 6 months ago, and he either remembered it or bought it for you and hid it for 6 months. He knows exactly what to get you!

He's not really a huge fan of the holidays

That being said: He enforces Mistletoe rules like it's his job

Everyone thinks he's a grinch, so he doesn't usually get the best presents from others. It doesn't help that he never makes a christmas list or tell anyone what he wants 

(mostly because he doesn't want to be disappointed when he asks for something and doesn't get it, or he's afraid to ask for something “dorky” that he actually really wants)

When you ask him what he wants for christmas, he just kind of shrugs and says he'll like whatever you get him

So it's extra special when you return the favor and get him a gift just as thoughtful as he gave you :) You get him the video game or album or band tee (idk what men like) that he offhandedly mentioned weeks ago :) He can't hold in his surprise that you remembered!

“Woah, babe! I can't believe you remembered.. This is perfect, thank you baby” And then he wraps you into a tight hug!

Bonus: Yea, Jimmy had to fill in as Santa one year when Curly was busy/sick....... He made a kid cry.

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know in the replies what you think, send an ask if you have a request, and rb if u liked! Thanks for reading!💚❤️

Merry Christmas!! ☃️💚🎄❤️❄️❤️🎄💚🎁☃️❄️❤️❄️❤️🎄💚

[cherryblooom]

2XL — OP81 [ part 1 ]

Summary: You are a young artist who gained a lot of popularity at the ripped age of 14 due to your talent and unusual style. Your body is considered "voluminous" so, in public, you only use 2XL clothing, to protect yourself from people on the internet and feel more comfortable while performing. You have managed to keep your personal life outside the spotlight but when Oscar finally made it to the glamorous lifestyle of motorsports, everything changed.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Reader

navigation series masterlist

Fic warning: best friends to lovers, slut shaming, weird people on the internet, people commenting about a minor's body, sexism, rape comments, rape "jokes", reader battles with her self-esteem, self-image, and self-love, Oscar is obsessed with his girlfriend and her body (not in a creepy way) and is not afraid of showing it, Oscar is not afraid of defending reader and dragging people though the mud.

Faceclaim: Billie Eilish

Note: Oscar is a year older than the reader. SMAU mixed with narrative. Reader doesn't have that much access to social media right now as they are mostly controlled by their management.

You were in shock, appalled, shaking in your boots. No, that wasn't enough to describe the excitement you felt when you saw the success your debut song was having. It had gone viral on the Soundcloud platform, and your followers were increasing rapidly, it honestly felt like a dream.

ynusername just posted

Liked by oscarpiastri, fanusername and 2,013 others

ynusername Thank you so much for all the support and love you guys have shown to my debut song and EP. I am still in shock and shaking. I can't wait to see what comes next 🩵

View all 1,578 comments

fanusername you deserve all the love, the songs are beautiful

→ ynusername Thank you so much for the support, it is a dream come true 🩵

oscarpiastri beautiful and talented, you deserve it! ☁︎🩵

ynusername has liked your comment

username this girl is going to be a fucking star

ynusername has liked your comment

username245 ocean eyes makes me cry so much 😭

oscarpiastri just posted

Liked by ynusername and 4,762 others

oscarpiastri I can't even begin to express how proud I am of you. You are such a talented artist and seeing how you are achieving all of your dreams makes me so excited. And…happy birthday! I don't care how famous you get, i’ll always remember how you almost die because you couldn't stop eating grapes.

Please don't forget me when you are famous, I can't live without your pancakes and you always REFUSE to share the recipe 😔

comments has been limited for this post

ynusername and i’ll NEVER give you my pancakes recipe ☺️🙂‍↔️

→ oscarpiastri boooh, u are just mean and for what😣

ynusername just posted

liked by oscar piastri, fan1, f1talents and 50,000 others

ynusername This pookie just won his first championship in motorsports and I'm still scared to cross the street alone, wtf. Anyways, CONGRATULATIONS!! I don't need to read your horoscope to know that you have a great and bright future ahead of you ❤️@ oscarpiastri

P.S. I understand that winning a championship is a bit of a big deal, but I'm not going to give you my pancake recipe. I don't care how pretty your eyes are 🙄

view all 35,000 comments

fan1 wait, are they a couple?

→ fanuser3 No, as far we know, they have only been best friends since kids

randomuser oscar had an amazing season, I can't wait to see him in f1

fanuser2 Is Yn that tiny or is Oscar a giant? 😭

→ fan1 I know, their height difference is so cute 😔

→ fan3 both answers are correct 😂 but she's 5’1 so I would say that is not that hard to tower over her

Oscarpiastri if you give me the recipe, I will teach you how to cross the street without dying 😃

→ ynusername no❤️

→ oscarpiastri oh COME ON

→ oscarpiastri then, can you come and prepare me some? I pledge not to peek

→ ynusername that I can do

Oscar turned off the screen of his phone when he saw that you had returned from the bathroom, since he had taken advantage of those minutes that you were away from the table to respond to that disgusting comment on Twitter. There were times when he hated social networks, and because he was not a fan and did not find the logic in arguing with a stranger on Twitter, he could not avoid the anger that began to feel when he saw that comment from someone who claimed to be his fan. It wasn't the first time, and unfortunately it wouldn't be the last, that your fashion style was the center of conversation, and not in a good way.

“So, are we done here then? Nobody wants to order anything else?” asked his team leader. All the team members shook their heads and after the bill was paid, everyone started to get into the cars that were already waiting outside to take them to the bar they had reserved for the rest of the night. It wasn’t just that they had won the championship but now Oscar was officially of age, so it was also a reason to celebrate (although he wasn’t old enough to drink alcohol yet, but it seems that detail wasn’t that important to his team).

“Let’s go to McDonald’s for our monthly greasy burger” Oscar told you as you walked out of the restaurant. Your arms were intertwined, and your head was resting on his chest as the two of you slowly made your way to the exit. You couldn’t help but feel a warm flush running through your body. You felt so comfortable and safe.

''Even though I wouldn't want to break our tradition, you should go with your team to celebrate. I'm sure they made you a cake or something like that.'' Since you were both 12 years old, on the last Friday of every month you would go somewhere to eat sweets, junk food or things that you couldn't eat on a daily basis and, for both of you, it was almost a sacred day where you could be yourself, spend time together and just eat, talk or relax.

"Maybe you're right but honestly I'd rather spend time with you."

''I'd love to accompany you but I'm not 18 yet''

''Ohh right, you're still a little girl, I almost forgot. My bad''

''Shut up!'' Oscar just laughed and you let him guide you to his car. ''So, you're not going to the bar?''

''I told you; I prefer to be with you.'' You were both already inside the car and after buckling his seatbelt, Oscar leaned over you to put your seatbelt on for you, but you didn't realize how close you were from each other until he was practically right in front of you. Time felt like it had stopped, or at least it was going slower, since you felt like you had been in that same position for minutes. Oscar for his part couldn't help but run his gaze over your full, kissable and pink lips. For Oscar, you had always been a beauty that didn't need makeup, and if you had put on any, it would only be to make your already natural beauty shine. A few inches were all that separated your lips from his and Oscar smiled cheekily as he watched you hold your breath, maybe waiting, but waiting for what exactly? Oscar pursed his mouth into a satisfied smile.

Oscar finished fastening your seatbelt and sat back down to his seat as if nothing had happened, but he smiled mischievously when he watched you wipe the palms of your hands on your pants and felt you release the breath you were holding.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with that belt, but sometimes it gets stuck. I should check it out later,” Oscar said, and you nodded you head accepting his explanation. It was a lie. The belt was perfect, he just wanted an excuse to do what he did and yes, he didn’t regret anything. He got the answer he was looking for...that he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

dailyop81 just posted

liked f1gossip, dailyf4news and 250 more

dailyop81 One of the photos that are already coming out of Oscar's team celebrating the championship title, but he doesn't appear in any of them. Could it be that he didn't attend his own party?

comments have been limited for this post.

dailyynupdates just posted

liked by yndailynews, ynfan2, dailyop81 and 1,530 more

dailyynupdates yn and oscar hanging out today. According to the person who took the photos, the two were seen leaving a food store with a couple of bags (with snacks and what it looked like some junk food). They stopped at the park for a few seconds and then oscar started chasing yn while they both laughed. It should be noted that today is Oscar's celebration party, and he apparently decided to celebrate with yn.

comments have been limited for this post

oscarpiastri just posted

liked by ynusername, demilovato, f4news and 20,600 more

oscarpiastri such a lovely night with a pretty girl 🩵

tagged @ ynusername

view 16,872 comments

yn_global23 the height difference between them, I can't-

→ ynhater1 she looks like a fucking midget besides him, how is that cute? lol

→ ynhater1 and btw, the only reason she's famous is because she is with Oscar, if not, she would have flopped so hard 🤣

→ yn_global23 you are aware that yn was already famous before your little vroom vroom guy won any silly tittle, right?

Oscarpiastri liked your comment ❤️

fanuser5 Oh, the way I would give my left kidney to see them together! Like TOGETHER 🙂‍↕️

Oscarpiastri liked your comment

→ ynfan2 ong, me too!! I don't know a lot about Oscar but yn seems so comfortable and happy whenever they are together

→ ynuser2 omggg, Oscar liked your comment 😭

→ fanuser5 WHAT? I can't see it.

→ ynfanuser4 I think he removed the like but, we all saw it. @oscarpiastri explain 🫠

Oscarpiastri liked your comment ❤️

→ ynfanuser4 ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

Radio check: I'm finishing up the next part of Enchanted, but this came to my mind, and I couldn't get it out of my head so here we are. If you'd like me to tag you, let me know. Like and Reblog if you like it!

[irndad]

Christmas Wrapping- a.h.

a/n: i'm back and this is sad (no, really, it's a sad christmas fic. merry crisis!! also writing this made me think of @hotchfiles lol- lari i hope u like it <3 summary: 2 years ago, hotch broke up with a lovely but eccentric woman, and is thinking about this while attending a christmas party.

It’s Christmas, and it’s New York, and Aaron doesn’t want to be here. 

He always feels guilty when he misses Christmases with Jack, and it’s painful to admit that it’s happened more than once. He’d been understanding, but Jack is almost ten now, and the resentment in his voice is subtle, but sometimes Aaron could swear he could hear Haley’s voice in it. 

This dinner wasn’t optional- a director that was above him mentioned that if he wanted his career to advance, he couldn’t afford not to attend events like tonight. Which as far as thiny veiled threats go, is one of the lease concealed ones he’s received in a good bit. 

New York always makes him think of her. Even though their relationship ended two years prior, she sticks in his mind like a song, the melody never quite getting to be grating. She’d loved being called his girlfriend, and Aaron had loved the way she loved it. She was younger than him, by a little over a half-decade. But still, she’d worn it better than he had. He still remembers the sight of her, meeting him at his office (never inside, lest the team tease him endlessly), in her green shoes and multicolored scarf, hair in a clip that had been lazily thrown up, and a smile that dazzled him. 

“Are you ready, Mr. Hotchner?” he remembers her saying, on the other side of a memory lit in warm, glowy lights. 

“I don’t think I can endorse whatever you have planned for me.” He’d replied back in jest at the time. 

The walk from his hotel to the host of the party’s home is cold. He think it might be colder in Quantico, but his memory feels colder and seeps into his bones. 

He might’ve married her, Aaron muses to himself. It all feels so silly to think about. But she was hard not to think about when she was his to ponder over, and she sticks in the back of his mind even after he had made he decision not to. 

She’d been generous with him, the entirety of it all. Gentle with him when he mentioned that he wasn’t ready to tell the team, even if she’d known that he hadn’t waited eight months with Beth. More than that, she was beautiful. not just in her appearance, which was lovely in and of itself, but in how she carried herself. Warm, and kind- Jack would’ve loved her. 

He thinks of her laugh, how she’d picked off all of the salmon roe on their fancy 5 month anniversary dinner, and eaten the meal without it- how she booked Amtraks to visit family, because it gave her more time to read on the way, and no one would make her drive once she got there. How she traced hearts into his wrist when  she could tell he was anxious, read him like a book he never gave anyone permission to see. Loving her was a pleasure, an indulgment. An expensive wine sipped with leisure. 

A honk of a cab shakes him out of his memories, but it doesn’t stick. She’d loved Brooklyn, loud cabs and overpriced brownstones all the same. Sometimes, when doing monotonous paperwork, he’d fantasize about buying her one, a new home in her dream city, Jack and maybe a sister. 

The way it had fallen apart was one of the least proud moments of his life. Because she was different- not polished, or withdrawn in how she carried herself. It was what made her a pleasure to know- she smiled with her whole face, hugged people like she knew they might need it, wore her favorite colors because she wanted to see them whenever she passed a mirror. And he was a behavior analyst. 

“Could I meet your friends?” he’d frozen, when he’d heard it. Her voice was soft, like she was nervous. “I know you were wanting to wait, but you know- you’ve met my graduate school friends. They were thoroughly impressed.”

He didn’t feel impressive to them, and he suspects she might be being kind in this moment. 

“I just think you wouldn’t like them, honey.” He feels rotten lying to her, but the idea of it- of the team knowing that she is the person he loves- it feels like a magnifying glass under the sun. 

“I find that hard to believe, Aaron. And either way, I’m telling you, it would mean the world to me to know them.” 

He’d been backed into a corner, he’ll tell himself, later. This will be a lie, and it’ll be a lie he knows, even as he tells himself it. 

“I just think we shouldn’t do that until we’re sure about eachother.”

The silence that had followed felt chasms wide. She’d been silent in front of him before- when he’d come to her apartment too tired to speak but still needing to be held, and she’d lit a candle and massaged his hands, easing the carpal tunnel from writing paperwork. Or when she held his hand waiting for Jack’s results, when he’d gotten a fever they hadn’t been able to shake. This silence was different. Long and dissapointed, and Aaron felt like he couldn’t breathe under the shame of it. He watched her wipe a single tear from her eye, and grab her novel that had been sitting on his coffee table for the last six months. 

“I can’t make you sure about me, Aaron. I don’t really want to try.” 

It had ended like that. Reminiscing on the whole affair had made the walk feel short, although he could feel a tear welling in his eyes. His body knew her absence, and still does. Even now, walking to this party he doesn’t want to go to, he imagines what it would be like to have the shape of her pressed into the side of it. 

Aaron thinks to himself, before buzzing into the building, that he wasn’t ashamed of her. He’d wondered since the end of the first relationship he’d felt held in, if he left it because he was ashamed. But he wasn’t. He was unwilling to submit to the plain, unmediated joy of her touch. 

He was almost done ruminating on this, until he knocked on the door, and there she was. 

Aaron- he almost wonders if he’s hallucinating, because there she is. And she’s fucking gorgeous. She always is, but she’s so lovely tonight. Maybe it’s the fact he hasn’t seen her in so long, or maybe it’s just that she is that lovely, but the warm light of the party and Christmas Wrapping playing in the background- she looks like vision plucked from a movie. 

She’d kissed him at midnight to this song, once. 

Now, she’s beaming at him, opening her door to welcome him as a stranger into a party. 

“Aaron! Is that you?” it’s a physiological response, the jump in his chest, when she says his name. “My god, it’s so good to see your face!” 

She hugs him, and she still wears the same perfume. Her arms are warm and her face is in his chest, and even though it’s less intimate than all the ways she’s held him before, it feels kind. 

“It’s so good to see you too- what are you doing here?”

It’s a blunt question, but she doesn’t seem to mind, as she ushers him into home. It’s a family apartment, old-school and clearly well-loved.

“My husband liasons with the FBI, actually! His boss said they needed a get-together space, and so we offered up our apartment. It’s cute, right?” she’d walked him right up to a man, wrapped her arms around his middle, before turning back to Hotch. “Peter, honey, this is my old friend, Aaron Hotchner! He works for the BAU.”

Husband. She has a husband. She is a beautiful woman, who he has had the honor to love, to run through the rain while laughing with, who is known and seen and loved by someone else. Hotch takes a look at her, really drinks in the sight. She’s got on a green sweater, new- he can tell by the shape of it. Earrings that seem like they’re gifts, and her hair’s pinned up lazily despite the occasion. 

She looks happy. 

“Oh hey! I’ve heard so much about you- I’m glad you were able to come!”

Peter has a wedding band on hsi left wrist, and Aaron can’t help but analyze him. He’s wearing an ill-fitting dress shirt and slacks, and Hotch thinks he might not have had too much choice in hosting. Owning real-estate is uncommon in New york, and your boss knowing you have a place to use might have been enough to strong arm him into using it. it’s a relative’s clothes, and it’s casual in a way that would suggest ease and friendless. An arm rests on the small of his wife’s waist. 

The whole rest of the night is a blur. Jealousy doesn’t feel like the right word for it- it feels uncanny, to see her so open and warm with a man who so unashamadly loves her. There’s engagement photos on the walls, and Aaron studies them like he’ll be tested. Maybe he’s testing himself. They’re not real photos, just a photobooth they’d gone too, her ring in the foreground of all of them. Peter is a wiry, thin, dark-haired brown-eyed man who is younger than Aaron, and a year older than her. 

He hears someone say they met in high school, and Hotch dimly wonders if he ever had a shot with her. He thinks this, while looking at a photo of the two of them at prom together (but not together). It’s self-comfort, he knows. Because she’d asked him, to take her seriously. 

She’s drinking grape juice, instead of champagne. Aaron thinks he knows why, from the way she runs a gentle hand over her stomach when she thinks no one’s looking, and how Peter’s eyes are always trained on her midsection.

He wishes he didn’t know how to be this observant. 

When the night ends, and Aaron comes back to Quantico, and people asks him how the party went, Aaron tells them it went well, and says that he saw an old friend who he’d missed a great deal out there. 

He figured it’s probably better to admit to loving her in some way, at some point. Even if it’s far, far too late. 

[silencesscreams]

hiii, idk if ur still active but I love ur writing and I was wondering if u could maybe do a james smut with a Christmas theme! tyyy💓

Merry Christmas, I miss you

james potter x f!reader

summary: you and James have been broken up since Halloween. Until he calls you on Christmas Day after finding out that you both were spending the evening alone. (muggle+modern day au)

warnings: use of y/n, reader is shorter than James, swearing, smut (MDNI!), afab reader, nipple sucking, oral/fingering (f receiving), praise!!!, penetration, multiple orgasms(2), slight dom!james, reader has hair long enough to be stroked, kind of make-up sex tbh, unprotected + use of the pill, creampie, not proofread at all 😭

a/n: thank you so so much for requesting! I immediately thought of this song, hope you like it <3

You hated spending Christmas alone.

When your family was getting plane tickets two months ago, you said you’d spend Christmas with James, who also cancelled his plans with his family, just for him to break up with you two weeks later.

There was no one you could spend the end of year holidays with, all of your friends were with their families or together.

James absolutely hated the silence in his apartment.

Sirius and Remus were spending the holiday together at cabin they found online and Peter had gone home to his family.

James hated having brought this upon himself.

Were you with somebody else out there? Were you meeting their family? Were they in your apartment?

It was killing him.

What he hated most of all was breaking up with you during a stupid fight which he didn’t even remember the reason why it happened. He just remembers being drunk and stupid.

So he called Sirius, because that was what he usually did when things went to shit, and also because Sirius was close to you and he would probably know what James had been asking himself for the past hour.

The phone rang about six times until he finally picked up.

“What do you want?”

“What do you think y/n is doing right now?” He heard Sirius groan.

“Why do you care about what she’s doing?” James didn’t answer. “She’s alone at her place, don’t call her.”

“You think I should call her?” He decided to ignore any advice that went against whatever he wanted.

“God, he’s so fucking confusing.” he heard Remus say.

“Moony, do you think I should call her?”

“James, you’re going to do whatever you want, aren’t you?”

“Always, but that’s not the point.”

“Do what your heart says and leave us alone pleeeeaseee!” Sirius said and hung up.

James dialed your number on his phone, he memorized it so there was no real meaning to why he deleted it a while ago.

When you read the name on your phone’s screen once it started vibrating you thought you’d faint.

You wished that he had butt dialed you, or that maybe he called the wrong person. You knew you were wrong.

“James?” You said as you picked up and paused the TV in front of you.

“y/n. Hi, merry Christmas.” He sat up straight on the couch. “What are you doing?”

You couldn’t believe him.

“What?” You asked, even though you heard him clearly the first time.

“What are you doing tonight?”

So he was booty calling you on Christmas, was that it?

“I’m currently watching every single sitcom Christmas episode I can think of. You?”

“I’ve been staring at the ceiling for the past three hours. Are you by yourself?”

“Yes.” You replied, almost whispering. You couldn’t understand him.

“Me too. Can I come pick you up? We could maybe watch every single sitcom Christmas episode together. I have some food here.” He was already getting up and putting on his shoes outside of the apartment.

“Sure.”

You sighed after hanging up, what could go wrong? You’d go, you’d eat his food, you wouldn’t hook up with him and you’d be home by midnight. It was fine. Everything was under control.

Until you got into his car.

Until you felt his smell, the three in one shampoo that had the sweetest smell a three in one shampoo could ever have.

“Hey, you look great.” He said, looking at you as you put on the seatbelt.

“Thanks, you too.”

“Did you change your hair?” James asked, starting to drive.

“Kind of, yes.” You looked out the window and then back at him. “You look the same.”

He let out a small laugh. “I do.”

It was usually a 10 minute drive from your apartment to his, in which you awkwardly played with the hem of your skirt and made small talk.

“I have some frozen pizza at home, we could make popcorn too if you like, I bought one of those air popping machine things a few weeks ago. Actually, Sirius got that.” He said as he parked the car on the empty street in front of the apartment complex.

“I’d like that.”

Maybe you believed everything was still in control until you entered his apartment, the floor was cold and you left your shoes at the door. He locked it behind you.

“You remember the place don’t you?” You nodded. “There’s a few blankets and a sweater on the couch and you can turn on the TV if you want to. I’ll take the pizza out of the freezer and get the popcorn machine ready.”

You decided on starting with The Office’s season two Christmas episode, then you watch the other eight. Or you’d move to New Girl, then maybe Brooklyn 99, possibly Seinfeld.

“Bad news!” You heard James say from the kitchen. “Theres no corn to pop” he said, coming out and looking at you sitting on the couch.

“It’s alright, how about we watch this one and then I can help you out with the pizza?” You moved to the right side of the couch, inviting him to sit on your left.

You did realize you had no control over anything once he sat and instinctively wrapped his left arm around your shoulder. That might’ve also been when he realized he had no control.

“What are we watching?” He asked as you covered your legs with the blanket on the couch, he pulled some of it to himself and shared with you, your knees touching under it.

“I thought we could start by the office, we obviously won’t watch all of them, so we can move to New Girl afterwards, then maybe we could do Brooklyn 99 or Seinfeld because I know you like those two.” You looked at him and he hummed.

“That’s a good plan.” You smiled at him and started the episode.

When Micheal started talking about the Yankee Swap, James took his left arm from off your shoulder and put it under the covers to scratch his calf. You missed the feeling of him over your shoulders, until he rested his hand on your upper knee.

You felt your entire body go hot until the end of the episode, when he took the blanket from off you both and supported himself on your thigh to get up from the couch, ‘accidentally’ giving it a light squeeze. You thought you were about to go insane and paused the TV, maybe it really was a Christmas booty call.

“I only have pepperoni, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

“Can you put it in the oven? I’ll get us something to drink.”

“Sure.” He brushed his hand against your waist as he moved behind you to open the fridge.

“There’s Diet Coke, wine and orange juice.” He looked back at you.

“Wine.” You answered, watching him take the bottle out along with a can of Coke.

“Aren’t you going to drink with me?” You grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and moved next to him.

“I have to drive you home.” He smiled at you.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” You smiled back at him.

“I can’t let you walk or uber home.” He put your hair behind your ear.

“I could crash here, if there’s space for me.” You almost whispered, looking at him doe eyed.

“There’s always space for you in my bed.” He stated, his voice low as he poured wine into both of the glasses.

He watched you take a sip and realized you were holding back a laugh.

“What is it?” He smiled.

“This sucks.” You giggled softly. He took a sip from his glass and made a face.

“Oh my god,” he laughed “you have to blame Remus though, I don’t think I bought wine more than once in my entire life.” You smiled, remembering the bottle he brought to your house on your third date. He moved closer to you, resting his hands on your waist.

“I’m sorry about the wine.” He whispered and you felt his breathing against your face, you hummed and looked up at him, moving your hands to the back of his neck, gently stroking his hair.

“Fuck.” He whispered, looking into your eyes. He slowly leaned in, you could feel your heartbeat as he got closer to you. You felt his lips brush against yours and then his phone’s alarm went off, scaring the both of you.

“The damn pizza” he muttered, turning off the oven but not taking the food out. You leaned against the counter and looked at James, who put his hands on your waist again, asking you “Where were we?”, making you laugh for the first time in a while.

You threw your hands over his neck as he hugged you so tightly that you thought maybe you both could merge into one.

“I missed you.” You whispered into his ear.

“Yeah?” He teased you and you hummed. “I missed you so much, love.” He started kissing your neck, holding you tightly by your lower waist.

“I’m so sorry. For everything.” He pulled away, looking into your eyes. “Let me make it up to you, please.” You nodded.

He brought his lips to yours and kissed you quickly.

“Use your words.” He muttered against your mouth and your breath hitched.

“Yes, please.” You replied and he brought his lips back against yours, this time you parted your mouth and he let his tongue slip into it. His lips moved hungrily against yours, the hands on your waist quickly moving to cup your ass firmly. Before you knew it, you were moving against him, glad you’d chosen to wear a skirt as breathy moans slipped from your lips against his.

All of a sudden James pulled his lips away from yours,

“Go to my room, I’ll be there in a second.” He said, pointing to the corridor.

You left the door open and sat on his bed, waiting for him. Everything was the same, except for the photograph of the both of you he had framed and left on his desk, which was now nowhere to be seen. He came into the room with something behind his back.

“I got this for you in November, in case we saw each other today. I know it’s not much but it reminded me of you.” He handed you a black corduroy box, which had a gold necklace with a small heart pendant.

“Oh James, this is so pretty.” You looked at him smiling and closing the box and putting it on his nightstand “I’ll put it on later, thank you so much.”

“Let me make everything up to you, I truly am sorry.” He said, taking off his glasses and sitting in front of you on the bed. You put your hands behind his neck and pulled him in, kissing him gently as he moved closer to you, his knee between your legs.

You laid down and his mouth started to make its way to your neck, giving it soft kisses then gently biting and sucking, making sure to leave a few marks. Meanwhile, his hands trailed their way to your breasts, going under your already loose bra and playing with your nipples. He quickly helped you take off your shirt, also removing his own.

James quickly kissed your mouth and started to trail small kisses from it to your right nipple, which he brought to his mouth and sucked on, nipping at it with his front teeth every once in a while, meanwhile his left hand stimulated your other nipple.

Your hands moved to his hair, stroking it and tugging on it every once in a while, leading to groans that would send vibrations to your breasts.

Suddenly, he pressed his knee against your damp underwear as you desperately tried to get more friction from it, until he held down your hips.

“Let me help you, baby.” he hummed against your chest. “I’m going to take care of you, don’t worry.”

He helped you take off your skirt as you raised your hips, tossing it next to the bed and kissing your tummy, making his way down to your underwear, lowering it and kissing the skin right above your slit, almost where you needed him the most. He started to kiss your inner thighs, going up to your clothed core, pressing another kiss right on top of your covered clit, making you moan as he took off your panties, carefully placing them on top of your skirt on the floor.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, his breath fanning against your pussy.

He started slowly at first, licking from your entrance to your clit, sucking it in the most careful way he could. Until you couldn’t hold back your moaning and you remembered how James Potter gave head like a starved man.

He held your thighs open as he sucked on your sensitive bud and fucked two fingers into you, making your back arch and causing you release the most incoherent sentences from your mouth, a mix of swearing, the word god and his name, but really, in that moment, the later two were probably the same to you.

Your hands tugged onto his hair as you reached your high, he looked up at you and kept stimulating your clit with his thumb, inserting a third finger into your hole.

“Cum for me, honey.” He said, sensing you were close to your high and going back to sucking your bud.

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as you moaned out his name, squeezing his head in between your thighs as he carried you through your orgasm.

Once you were finished, James moved up to kiss you. His mouth moving hungrily against yours.

“I want you.” you said as you pulled away, looking into his eyes.

“You already have me, sweetheart.” He smiled, getting up to get something to clean you up with. You pulled him back by the wrist.

“No, I want you in me. Please. ‘Need more.” You said lowly, giving him a quick peck.

“You sure?” You knew he wanted it too, he just wanted to make you feel good and forget about himself for the rest of the night.

“Yes, please James.” You replied, pulling him by the wrist again once he went to reach for a condom in the nightstand drawer. “I want to feel you. I’m on the pill, please.”

He smiled, taking off his sweatpants and going on top of you, his knees pressed against the mattress next to your thighs as he kissed you, tilting your head to deepen it.

He started kissing your neck, giving soft pecks on the marks he had left behind earlier, while taking his length out of his underwear and lining himself up against your entrance, teasing you with his tip as you practically begged him to get inside of you.

“Patience, baby.” He muttered, slowly starting to thrust into your needy hole whilst pulling your right leg up and bending it, almost making your leg shin touch your thigh as he tried to go as deep as possible.

You couldn’t help but moan out his name once he started thrusting and kept hitting the most perfect spot he could whilst stimulating your bean with his thumb. You clenched around his cock as he started to thrust rapidly into you.

“That’s it baby, you’re doing so good.” He’d whisper in between grunts in your ear while you scratched his back in pleasure. “So- mhm so good for me, baby.” He said, his mouth clashing against yours, his tongue entering your mouth as you opened it. You clenched your pussy around him and you both can’t help but moan into each other’s mouths, his thrusts getting faster and his grunts and moans only louder, showing you how close he also is.

You felt your second orgasm building up as he pinched your clit and you squealed onto his tongue, your teeth clashing, causing him to pull away and smile against your mouth, his teeth against your lips.

“Are you close, princess?” He whispered and you replied with a nod, your nose against his cheek. He thrusted quickly and made circular motions on your clit at the same pace. “Hm, cum for me baby, cum on my cock.” He commanded as you reached your second high, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss you again. The kiss was sloppy as he shot his load into you and you clenched around him, his thrusts faltering.

He collapsed right next to you, grabbing his glasses on the bedside table to look at you properly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He praised you, smiling as he stroked your hair. “Thank you for picking up. Thank you for being here. For everything.” He whispered.

“Thank you for calling.” You smiled.

“The pizza’s probably cold.” He muttered, looking at his bedroom door.

“I don’t care.” You gave him a peck. “Merry Christmas, James.”

“Merry Christmas, love.”

[hanfourz]

― pretty boy | p.sh ୨ৎ

°˖➴ sungho always loved watching you do your makeup and what better time to ask him to do his than right before you had to leave for your family's annual xmas party?

second installment of the 'tis the season drabble series !!

pairing ・ sungho x gn!reader

genre ・ fluff, suggestive, established relationship

warnings ・ kissing, marking & mentions of hickeys, reader wears makeup (but so does sungho lol), lots of terms of endearment, pls lmk if i missed any!!

word count ・ 2.3k omo...

note ・ ohhh this has me so deep in the sungho feels TT everyone say thank u cherry - 🪼

wanted to include my birthday a little cuz why not hehe - 🍒

[ networks : @onedoornet ]

series m.list   |   main m.list

“sungho baby, can you come here a sec?” you hear your boyfriend’s footsteps as he approaches your bedroom, him letting out a concerned ‘hm?’ as he reaches the doorway of the bathroom. you’re currently stood in front of the mirror, his oversized tee and face mask on, frantically searching for something.

“yes love, what’s wrong?” he asks, worry at the urgency in your tone pushing his voice a little higher than normal. 

“have you seen my makeup bag? i can’t find it and i swore i left it under the…” your voice trails off as you crouch down to look under the sink for the nth time. sungho visibly relaxes now that he knows your life isn’t in danger.

“god babe, you scared me,” he lets out a soft chuckle, “hang on, i think i saw it earlier.” 

you hear his hurried steps as he walks out your room and comes back. “there you go,” he murmurs as he hands over your makeup bag. 

“omg, you’re my hero! thank you, babe,” you say relieved and give him a small peck on his cheek. 

“you’re welcome, darling,” he chuckles softly as he watches you search through your makeup bag through the mirror. despite the mask on your face, he can still see the way your brows furrow and your tongue pokes at your cheek as you dig into the depths of your unorganized makeup bag. he makes a mental note to maybe get you a bigger one at some point. 

“you look gorgeous, by the way,” sungho whispers lowly as he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“thank you baby, you look very handsome as well.” you smile slightly as you lift your gaze to his in the mirror. your heart rate stutters a bit at the way he gazes at you so lovingly.

“now let me go, i need to finish my makeup!” you laughed and try to push him away. he huffs a laugh and pulls away, going to finish getting ready himself. 

once he’s done he comes back, peeking in from the doorway to your room. he pauses in his tracks as he watches you stand in front of your mirror. you’re now in your outfit, doing the finishing touches to your makeup. you must have stopped to get your clothes on when he left—you always did say you needed to remember to dress first before you did your makeup, but you somehow always forgot. he watches you as you lean forward to apply your lip combo, soft smile resting on his lips. you pause in your movements, shifting your gaze to see sungho leaned up against your doorway in his suit. you smile at him as your heart skips a couple beats. he looks amazing as he pushes away from the wall to join you. 

“you almost done, love? you look gorgeous, did i say that already?” he questions in a teasing tone, now standing behind you. you chuckle and roll your eyes slightly, capping your lipstick and turning around to face him. 

“you’re so cheesy, you know that?” you smirk as you step towards him, brushing out the wrinkles of his suit jacket. he just smiles down at you, dopey lovesick smile plastered on his face. his hands find your waist as yours rest on his shoulders, gaze locked on yours. 

“you look very handsome, mr. park,” you almost whisper like you only want him to hear despite you two being the only people in the room. you push a strand of his hair behind his ears. suddenly, an idea pops into your head as your eyes trace over his features and sungho can tell, if the little smirk on your lips is anything to go by. 

“you should let me do your makeup, prince,” you say, tacking on the nickname you know always makes him fold. 

he sighs and shakes his head but you watch the way his ears turn red slightly. “baby, we don’t have time for that,” he tries to convince you unsuccessfully as you pout up at him. he can feel his resolve crumble as you bat your long, mascara-covered lashes at him. 

“pleaseeee? it’ll be quick, i promise, sungie.” you don’t let him get off that easy, making your voice sickeningly sweet. he sighs and concedes as you giggle happily and push him to sit on the toilet seat, since his height would be a bit of a disadvantage for you.

he chuckles at your enthusiasm as you go to rustle through your makeup bag. you pull out a couple products, slotting yourself to stand in between his long legs. you place most of the items on the edge of the sink, keeping the blush and a fluffy brush in between your fingers. sungho tilts his chin up as you gather some of the pink dusty product on the brush and tap it over his cheekbones. he keeps his eyes on you the entire time, endeared by the concentrated look on your face. you pull back after you’re satisfied, placing the blush down and grabbing a nude eyeshadow palette.

“stop staring at me and close your eyes,” you say in a teasingly stern tone as you gather a very light pink shimmer on the application brush. you try to sound unfazed but sungho knows you too well, he sees the way you won’t meet his eyes and the hesitancy in your movements. you’ll never know it but deep down he secretly loves to get you flustered, finding the way you try not to react cute. 

“why? can’t I look at my beautiful lover?” he asks, before suddenly pulling you onto his lap. you let out a yelp, hands flying to grip his shoulders. he holds your waist and tucks your hair behind your ear, gaze still locked on yours. you’re shocked by the intensity you see in his eyes. 

“you look so beautiful, almost want to keep you for myself,” he murmurs into your neck as he starts to leave kisses there, lips trailing to your jawline up to your cheeks and back down again.  

“sungho…” you whimper softly, already forgetting about the limited time you both have. “kiss me…please.”

 “of course, darling.” his lips gently press against yours as his hands roam your waist. the kiss was tender at first, soft exploration filled with love and gentleness. you melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. the way his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you even closer. no space left between the two of you as you all but mold into one another. all thoughts about the party you had to attend fade into the background as you become consumed by him.

the kiss deepens as sungho moans into your mouth, your world starting to become blurry. you sigh as your fingers weave through his neatly done hair, both of you too lost in one another to really care about not messing up each other’s outfits. 

the kiss was passionate yet soft, a mix of longing and yearning in your movements. you could feel your heart stutter when his lips trailed to your neck and he started sucking on the spot he knew was sensitive. you whined into him, letting out pleasured gasps as he continued to kiss at your neck and shoulder. he reveled in the way you responded to him, loving to see the effects of the pleasure he was giving you no matter how miniscule. 

finally, you pulled back, completely breathless with your saliva still connecting you, your foreheads resting against each other. sungho looked into your eyes, his expression a mix of contentment and disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

“wow,” he murmured, a smile breaking across his face.

“yeah,” you chuckled breathlessly, still feeling the warmth of his lips on yours. 

suddenly the loud, incessant buzzing of your phone broke your trance, your eyes widening comically as you remembered the family dinner you two were supposed to be at in approximately 30 minutes. it was a dinner your family had planned for months, a joint celebration of your birthday and christmas. your family was very serious about the holidays. 

you scrambled off of sungho’s lap, him standing and straightening out his clothes. he grumbled at the very slight bulge in his dress pants, half hard from your kissing. while he tried to calm himself, you grabbed your phone cursing as your sister’s caller ID flashed bright on your screen. you picked up, clearing your throat before saying hello. you wince as she immediately launches into scolding you for not being ready on time again. you can’t do anything but sigh and apologize because she refuses to let you get a word in. you make eye contact with sungho, who’s now fixing his hair in the mirror, and roll your eyes. he just chuckles and shakes his head, knowing how your younger sister was. once she was finally done, ending her spiel with telling you to ‘hurry your ass up before we give the dog your plate!’ you hang up. 

“she’s going to jump straight through my phone and grab me by the ear one of these days,” you sigh as you walk over to your dresser, fishing for the jewelry you wanted to wear. sungho fully laughs at that, the sound making you chuckle slightly. you hurriedly touch up your hair and makeup at your full length mirror as sungho fusses with his hair in the bathroom. 

he finishes before you once again and joins you just as you’re now fiddling with the earrings you want to wear. there’s a frustrated furrow to your brow and pout on your lips as you try to get the hook through the piercing. sungho thinks it’s adorable as he watches you struggle a bit, you so absorbed in what you’re doing you don’t even notice him approaching you. you startle as you feel his hands on your waist, head shooting up to look at him through the mirror. you lean into his touch finally done with the earrings as you turn to look at him. 

“i have something for you,” he says softly, pulling his hands away to reach into his pocket. your head tilts in confusion as he pulls out a long silver box with a bow wrapped round it. you look up at him questions in your gaze as he places the box in your hands.

“baby, what’s this? i thought we were doing presents at my parents’ house?” you inquire, bewilderment in your tone as you twist the box around watching the metallic sheen in the lighting of your bedroom. 

“we are but… i wanted this one to be special. a little birthday present” his voice drips with love you couldn’t put into words if you tried. “open it, doll.” he whispers, trying to play off his nerves. 

your heart beats wildly in your chest as you pull the top off the box, a gasp leaving your lips as you see the pretty necklace nestled in black velvet. he takes the lid from your grasp as your mouth hangs agape. the necklace is simple, a drop-shaped gemstone hanging from a dainty chain, but you can tell immediately that the gem is your birthstone. your eyes well up with tears as you remember the first gift you ever gave him was a bracelet of both of your gemstones that he refuses to take off. sungho smiles as you look up at him, cooing when he sees the glassiness in your eyes. he pulls the necklace out the box, placing it so it’s in the palm of his hand and holding it out towards you. 

“we match now, my love.” your brows furrow as he says that, gaze darting back to the necklace. it’s then you finally notice a silver plate hanging behind the gemstone with the letter S engraved into it, his gemstone a small dot next to the letter. 

“oh sungho, this is beautiful,” you say, pure adoration in your voice. you look up at him, sincerity in your gaze. “thank you, for everything. i love you so much.” the sincerity in your voice has his heart melting in his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest as the two of you embrace. 

“i love you more, darling,” he murmurs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “can i put it on you?”

you nod with a smile as you pull away, turning around and pulling your hair out the way. you shiver as his lithe fingers graze your shoulders when he pulls the necklace round your throat, clasping it at the nape of your neck and letting his hands drop back to your shoulders. you watch with bated breath as he leans forwards and places featherlight kisses over your neck, his hands sliding down your shoulders as he does so. he trails his lips slowly over the curve of your shoulders, feeling the goosebumps that raise in his wake and the shiver you can’t control. he looks at you through the mirror, something catching his eye. he lifts his head slightly to see the very faded reddish purple splotches on your neck, evidence from his passion the night before. 

“i almost forgot about these, shame they’re barely noticeable anymore,” he says as you look in the mirror to watch him press his fingers lightly over the spots. 

“maybe you should make them noticeable again,” you whisper, his eyes flicking up to your face. he hums appreciatively, pressing his lips over the fading hickeys as you sigh and lean back into him. 

you two get lost in your own world again, too blinded by your complete adoration for the other to really care about anything else. the rest of the world fades into white noise when you’re with him and he’s with you. and the sound of your phone buzzing with notifications doesn’t even faze you as you let your pretty boy kiss you breathless.

[castillon02]

“You ‘have amnesia,’” Dr. Sharma repeated, her eyebrows arched. 

“Oh yes,” Q said. He cheerfully waved his hand at his bandaged head. “Mugged this morning. Terribly traumatic. Physically, not mentally, since I don’t remember any of it, of course.” 

Dr. Sharma’s eye twitched. “I see.” Over the past year of therapy, she had grown inured to Q’s shite, but this was perhaps a new level of it for her. “Amnesia,” she repeated. 

Q beamed. “Judging by the dark circles under my eyes, this seems like a bit of an opportunity for a fresh start anyway,” he said. “Past me looks overworked.” 

Dr. Sharma had been trying to get him a holiday for the past four months. Her “I see,” every time M had denied his request for leave had become steadily sharper. Now her eyes gleamed. “Amnesia,” she said, smiling wider than Q had ever seen. 

(Also on AO3)

—

“Amnesia,” M said, squinting at him from behind his desk. “Really, Q?” 

“M,” Q replied, tasting the name as if he’d just learned it. “Seems a bit funny to work for a letter, but I suppose my past self had his reasons.” He leaned back in his chair and cast his eyes around the room as if those reasons might be visible if he looked for them. 

M’s hand twitched toward the security button on his desk lamp. “You answer to the letter Q,” he pointed out. “You clearly remember some things.” 

“The name Q has silent vowels,” Q said, straight-faced. “Q-U-E-U-E. A long line in A&E is the first thing I remember experiencing, so it seemed fitting. You know, waiting for something that never seems to come gives you a lot of time to think.” 

M glared. “If this is about your leave—” 

“I am leaving, yes,” Q interrupted. “I even have the paperwork filed for Queue Smith, since apparently you lot do that here.” He quirked his eyebrows. “You still haven’t told me what I do, exactly, but I assume it’s some form of tech support, not anything crucial. Something other people have been trained in.” Like Q had been training R and X for the past six months, for instance. Specifically to deal with M’s bizarre separation anxiety. 

“You are actually one of our most valuable assets,” M gritted out, clearly aware that said valuable asset was a lying liar who was lying to him at that very moment. 

Q smiled. “What a shame I can’t remember anything, then,” he said. “No value whatsoever now. In fact, Dr. Sharma distinctly said I was as useless as a pin-pricked prophylactic, and the rest of the medical department agreed with her.” 

M’s eyes narrowed and he sat a little straighter. “Dr. Simmons would never go along with this.” 

“Dr. Simmons thought the whole thing was very novel,” Q disagreed. “In fact, he said amnesia might be under-diagnosed, particularly in injured field agents being recalled for missions.” 

M frowned. “How patient-centric of him.” 

“Oh, terribly.” Straightlaced Simmons, head of Medical, didn’t always see eye to eye with Q, but they both prioritized the health of the people under their care. M wouldn’t find anyone in-house who would challenge Sharma’s diagnosis. Now for the killing blow: “Everyone says that if I’m lucky and have a nice long rest, then I might remember some things. But who knows? Amnesia is unpredictable. I could be out of the game for good.” Q gave an innocent shrug. 

“It can be dangerous, walking around ignorant in the world,” M said.

“Maybe,” Q said. “But I got mugged while I was working here with all my memories intact, so really, nowhere is safe, is it? Might as well be unsafe in the Maldives.” Q gave M his most beatific expression. It was rather cute of M to threaten him with being killed, as though Q didn’t have a dead man’s switch for exactly that contingency. 

M gave him a long look but eventually sighed. “I’ll put you on an indefinite medical leave. Don’t do something stupid with your free time.”  

Q stood. “I’ll do whatever I please. Since that is, in fact, the point of the term ‘free time.’”  

—

Q spent five days eating take-away and playing Elden Ring in his pajamas. On the sixth day, he had enough energy to move, so he took the train and then a bus to a little town in Andalusia, dreaming of egg-and-potato fry-ups and sunny olive tree-laden views. 

Warmth. Sunshine. Red roofs and white stone buildings. An outdoor cafe where he could drink his tea and people watch. 

Down the street, a wrinkled old woman stooped down to scratch a brindled dog whose whiptail flew back and forth at the attention. Q watched them until they rounded a corner out of sight. When he brought his gaze back to his own table, Bond was sitting across from him. Shite. 

“Amnesia,” Bond said. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

Q stared him down. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” If Bond asked about a mission, Q was going to send him back to R and X for replacement corneas. 

But Bond shook his head. “You can call me James. We don’t know each other outside of work,” he said. “I thought we could change that.” Bond gave him a half-smile, somehow sheepish—different from his Target Acquired smile. His bright yellow I Heart España t-shirt was more camouflage than Q had ever seen him in. 

“Caminito del Rey has beautiful vistas,” Bond added, his blue eyes locked on Q’s. “Or I know a place with good tapas if you’d rather eat than hike.” 

This might be a work-shaped trap. But there wasn’t any tech in the Gaitanes Ravine, and yellow wasn’t the color Bond wore when he went anglerfishing. Additionally, traversing a treacherous one-meter-wide walkway carved into a rock face a hundred meters above a river sounded like it was genuinely Bond’s idea of a good time. “If we went hiking,” Q said, “it wouldn’t be efficient. I take pictures of cool bugs. I lollygag to look at spiderwebs. I get distracted by rock formations.” 

“If I wanted efficient,” Bond said, “I’d wait until you ‘got your memory back.’” He offered Q a wry tilt of his mouth. “I have it on good information that you’re currently useless, and I don’t expect we’ll need any of your skills from the office.” 

Bless the medical staff’s ability to gossip. Q exhaled and slouched a little. “You’re really here just because?” he asked.  

Bond shrugged. “We’re good at being useful together. I thought we might be good at being useless together too. If you like.” He tilted his head. 

Q stood without answering. 

Bond stood with him. His designer blue jeans stretched flatteringly around his thighs. No concealed carry. His watch wasn’t one of Q’s. He had a knife in his boot, but that was sensible enough. His t-shirt showed off tan arms criss-crossed with pale scars and a smattering of graying hair. He had a red España bucket hat tucked into his belt. 

007 on holiday. 

Q smiled. “Lead the way.” He extended his hand. 

Bond took it. In the center of a rural village steeped in machismo culture, Bond held his hand. “I have a car,” he said, and they walked, still linked at the fingers, to where Bond had parked his entirely normal Mitsubishi Mirage rental. Good god; a hatchback. Not even four-wheel drive. Bond was really giving this ‘useless’ thing a genuine effort. 

If this went well, Q would have to send 006 a basket of explosives. Rather than leaving his mugging-based amnesia up to fate, he’d rather desperately arranged for a surreptitious blow to the head from one of Six’s experts in cranial violence. He hadn’t expected that his memory loss would lead to something so lovely.  

[ilysungho]

hiii could u do 20, & 70 with sungho?

a/n: tbh i thought of making a text post sorta thing but i'm going to have to play with it to really understand how to do it well, so phonecall it is! this is SUPER indulgent… so sorry (not sorry) about that 😅 and also, merry christmas to everyone who celebrates! <3 wc: 1.5k contains: dom?sungho x sub?reader, reader implied to have medium or bigger sized tits, voyeurism, marking, masturbation, phone sex, established relationship (bf/gf), use of nicknames, lowercase intended, prompts italicized

sungho lay his head on his crossed arms, with tired eyes looking sad. his phone sat upright on the desk of the dimly lit hotel room, talking to you in a soft voice.

“i miss you… i wanna be back home in your arms already.”

“i know baby i miss you too, but on the bright side there are only a couple days left of tour! you’ll be back in no time!”

a small smile formed on his lips at your enthusiasm, grateful to have such an understanding partner. tour had been going well but drained him physically and mentally. not to mention, it’d been months since he’d seen you. since he’d touched you. the expression got replaced by a pout now as he remembered the last kiss the two of you shared before he left for the airport.

“what happened my love? what’s making you sad now?” his ears perked at your concerned tone, mentally cursing himself for not being better at hiding his emotions. he didn’t want to worry you after all.

“nothing, i told you already. i miss you... do you miss me too?”

“of course i do silly, i’m always missing you.”

“well, what do you do when you miss me?”

“you know… look at your pictures, listen to your voice, watch videos of you. there’s plenty of those after all.” you giggled as you recall the latest reel that got posted on the group’s instagram, him babbling on about how good the food was backstage.

“i know, but is there anything else you do? i wanna know everything please.” the same pout returned on his lips, not satisfied with the answer you had given him.

“well i mean…" you started off, feeling nervous to say the truth, "i just… you know… actually no, nothing! just those!”

sungho sat up straight on the chair, leaning back and furrowing his eyebrows. the change in your vocal tone caught his attention, genuinely curious now to know what you’re so embarrassed about. “you started talking so finish the sentence love.”

your hands came up to your face on instinct, covering you as you whispered, “i just… touch myself…”

“i can’t hear you princess, can you speak up?” he smiled seeing your state, teasing you now despite having heard what you said. he silently thanked his luck for letting him win the single room for this tour stop.

you raised your voice a little, just enough to let him hear you through the blockade you put up. “i said that i t-touch... myself… while thinking about you…”

“so… you touch yourself to the thought of me…? i’d… like to see that in action, love.”

“n-now?!”

he raised his eyebrows and nodded, as if he was questioning why you didn’t immediately do as he said. you got flustered by his request but composed yourself before setting down your phone against your bed’s headboard and sitting a bit far so he could see your full body.

truth be told, the anticipation already turned on the both of you. the atmosphere changed in the two rooms as you bit your lips, your boyfriend copying the motion. he stared at you intently, not wanting to miss any moment.

you touched your body slowly, intentionally pressing harder so sungho could see your curves through your clothes. you imagined his soft yet strong hands doing so as you reached the hem of your shirt. well, the hem of his shirt.

his eyes never left the screen, not daring to blink as you lifted the top off of your body to reveal your lacy bra he gifted you on your anniversary. he made sure to spoil you whenever he got the chance, and the memories of your anniversary night flooded in through both your minds.

“you’re so beautiful…” blushing at his comment, your hands rubbed the sides of your waist, inching upwards to your chest. sungho’s breathing got heavy as you reached your back, unhooking and removing the pretty cloth. he bit his lower lip, letting out a soft moan seeing you half stripped. despite being so far from each other, you still had that effect on him, making you feel proud of yourself.

“how do you imagine me touching you love?” his question made you smile as one of your fingers reached for your mouth. coating it with saliva, you hissed as you put it in contact with your perky nipples. he licked his lips at the sight, imagining sucking your tits.

your hands played with your boobs, letting out soft moans and closing your eyes to imagine your hands as your boyfriend’s instead. you flicked and pinched them, just how his tongue and fingers would. your mouth reached down to suck on the skin, your hands helping you hold the flesh.

“fuck you’re so good for me…” sungho’s mouth parted as he watched you mark yourself. he never imagined you doing that to yourself but now he couldn’t get enough of it. you littered your chest with mutiple marks, grinding on the mattress below you during the last couple.

the whole time, sungho’s boner grew until it got uncomfortable to sit with his pants covering it. he moved the chair backwards, putting himself into view as he palmed his bulge. you opened your eyes to look at his changed position, moans escaping as you watched him.

“i wish i was with you… i wanna help you.” he nodded his head, agreeing with you. he too wanted to be there with you. to touch you. to kiss you. to love you.

you bit your lips as you teased him now. your thighs parted to show him where he could’ve been right now, and he groaned knowing exactly what you thought of. words didn’t matter anymore when every movement was able to communicate what the other feels and insists.

as if on cue, both of you removed your bottoms. he did so just enough to where his cock sprung out whole, while you removed everything to bare yourself naked to him. he threw his head back after seeing you, in awe of your beautiful body. sungho really was so lucky you were his…

he brought his head back, mumbling a “show me babe.” his hand wrapped around his dick while you rubbed your folds. both your hands got covered with precum, with both wishing it was the others’ instead. sungho pumped his cock at the same time as you circled your clit, both eliciting out sounds of pleasure for the other to hear.

no matter how good it felt, you kept your eyes open to watch sungho just as he had been doing. you watched how he stroked up and down his shaft, his thumb teasing the slit on his tip while he chanted your name. you grinded against your fingers, imagining rubbing yourself against your boyfriend length.

as lewd sounds escaped from the speakers, so did words of pleasure. sungho watched your fingers prodding at your hole, keeping his hand wrapped around his dick and staying still. “go on baby, finger yourself.”

“mm no i want you to fuck me.”

a grunt came from his throat as he watched you do as he said, in return thrusting into his fist to imitate him pounding into your pussy. if you were with him right now, he knows he would’ve been able to thrust up until your cervix. just the thought was enough to make him cum really.

he abused his cock, imagining it as your cunt as you twisted your fingers inside your hole, inching closer to your phone to show him your dripping pussy. you moaned about how good it felt, telling him to fuck you harder, and faster, and deeper (despite only being to reach as far in as your fingers can). the squelching noises drove him insane, responding to you every time in a deep, husky voice.

both of you were so close, panting while holding on to your release despite starting to feel tired. you whined as you felt the knot in your core threaten to untie, giving a signal to your boyfriend that you were about to cum. he fastened his pace then, cumming while gripping tighter as he tried to control where it spilled. you came at the same time, spilling your slick onto the bed he would be in soon.

the both of you looked up to see each others' eyes, sungho’s squinting into a big smile.

as if on cue, woonhak's voice rang through the main door. “hyung we’re going to have dinner now, come!”

“shit babe… i’ll talk to you later, i love you, you did so well for me.” he kissed the camera before ending the facetime.

both of you cleaned up your respective messes, sungho rather quickly due to his presence being needed soon. but you took your time, taking pictures of yourself to send to your boyfriend.

my love 💙: i’ll be honest, i also get off to the thought of you. 8:04pm - Read

y/n: [4 attachments sent] then just call me next time 🤍 8:15pm - Read

[moonstruck-muses]

jake halloween req where you’re both at the same party and have matching costumes even though neither of you planned it

bonus if he’s pining after u <33

- 🐰

BOOMF BOOM BOOMF! Remember when you requested for this halloween AND THEN I SENT IT FOR CHRISTMAS LMFAO It's fine, enjoy this on the waning hours of the holiday where they are now at a Christmas party.

The secret truth to Jake Sim was he fucking loved being corny. He loved awful Hallmark movies, bad Valentine’s candy, and cheap haunted houses. Which meant, when the holidays rolled around, he had his house decorated by the first of the month, gifts bought even before the holiday season started, and Christmas music that started in November. Tonight, he was at a friend’s White Elephant party. He was wearing a garish sweater that couldn’t even be classified as ugly, it was straight up hideous. And he loved it—right down to the little button you could press on Rudolph’s nose that would make it light up. His sweater was nothing short of a spectacle. 

The party itself was hosted by his roommate’s friend, and Jake quickly made himself the life of it, chatting up with everyone, downing cups of eggnog, and shoving festive cookies down his throat. 

“Hee!” He shouted out when he saw the host of the party come into the kitchen. “Do you have more Nog?”

“So most people tap out after one mug of it, you freak,” Heeseung scoffed, but there was a playful grin on his face.

“How many have you had?” An unfamiliar voice said behind him. Heeseung stepped aside, and Jake felt his heart skip a beat. “Jake! I mean three!” He stammered, complete caught off guard at the sight of you. He watched you raise your eyebrow and fight back a laugh, and his heart unspooled with the scrunch of your nose and the crinkle of your eyes. 

“Okay, so clearly you’ve had a lot,” You teased. 

"No, I’m great, I’m peachy!” Jake protested, tips of his ears turning red. “I’m Jake,” he said awkwardly holding out a hand.

“So I’ve heard,” You said, meeting his handshake. “I’m Y/N.” 

His eyes wander down to your sweater, three dancing penguins in a snowfall, and his face lights up. “Nice to meet you you, Y/N. I appreciate someone who can appreciate the theme of a party.” 

“Oh, anything for a bit,” You say with a sly grin. 

“So how do you know Heeseung?” He asks, the world around him falling away. 

“I started working with him and Jay this year, guess my dazzling personality is so endearing they just couldn’t resist inviting me.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself that much,” Heeseung teased. 

“I have to, I’m the personality hire,” You joke. 

“No, the office would fall apart without you,” Jay chimes in, having joined the kitchen group at some point. 

“Now I feel left out,” Jake pouts. “I’m getting FOMO.”

“From our absolutely riveting desk jobs? Please,” You scoff. 

For a moment, Jake feels embarrassed, desperately wanting to impress you, but before he can linger, you’re already laughing about some smart remark from Heeseung. He admires your ability to so easily flit through the conversation, and he hangs on every word coming from your mouth, like the refrain of a melody he wants to hear again. 

“So what do you Jake?” “Oh nothing exciting—“

“He’s an astrophysicist,” Jay butts in and your jaw drops. 

“Okay, so you’re like smart smart.” Instantly, Jake feels the heat rise in his cheeks. “Not really,” he mumbles. “It’s cool though.” 

“Jake was always cooped up in the lab in college, he was scouted by multiple research groups right out of graduation,” Heeseung chimed in with a clap on his friend’s back. 

“Guys stop!” Jake protested. “I’m too embarrassed now!”

Jake covers his face with his free hand, and you throw your head back and laugh, joyous as a little kid. 

“Okay, okay, I’m gonna go mingle some more, but it was great to meet you Jake!” And Jake desperately wants to stop you, but of course he can’t stop you at a party, he can’t be creepy to his friends’ coworker. 

***

The moment you leave the kitchen, your heart is pounding. You definitely were not on the prowl for anyone tonight in your camp sweater and peppermint schnapps coursing in your veins. Jake. He was practically tripping over his own words, so dorky, so sweet—and clearly smart. God knows he wasn’t your type—you had an issue with picking…problems so to speak. But Jake—no. He was your coworkers’, your friends’ friend. He was off limits. You find yourself trying to mingle with the crowd, but the booze keeps bringing you back to Jake, or maybe his smile and the soft mop of curling hair on his head. 

Jake found himself pestering his friends for more information, to the point where they were about to punch him, stopped only by the fact that his persistence golden retriever energy made it impossible to actually be mad at him, and it was actually quite endearing.

“So how long have you been working with her again?” “It’s been like 9 months,” Heeseung responded, nibbling on the head of a Santa cookie. 

“Okay and…has she mentioned a boyfriend, girlfriend, fiancee, spouse, longstanding situationship that’s absolutely sucking the life out of her?” 

“Dude,” Jay groaned. 

“I think I’m asking perfectly reasonable questions!” Jake protested. There was a moment of silence as Jay and Heeseung rolled their eyes. “So…that’s a no on a situationship?” Jake prodded. 

“JAKE!” Heeseung and Jay both chided in harmony. 

“Just go talk to her,” Jay said with a playful nudge. 

“I completely froze up when she was here. I don’t even know what to say,” Jake whined. 

“You’re a big boy, you’ll figure it out,” Heeseung said with a hearty clap on his back. “Now please get out of my kitchen before you eat all the snacks meant for all guests.” Jake pouted and shuffled out of the kitchen, trying to place you in the crowded living room. 

There. He spotted you in the corner, nursing a red solo cup while making small talk with another group of people. 

“Just talk to her Sim,” Jake muttered under his breath. 

“Jake!” His focus was shattered as somebody tackled him in a bear hug. 

“Ricky!” Jake grinned at the younger boy on his shoulders and before he knew it, he had been wrapped up in another conversation. He was antsy the whole time, casting sideways glances, trying to find you and your ever weaving penguins in the crowd. 

***

The party was dying down, and Jake had barely had another chance to talk to you—and it was really starting to irk him. Every time he was about to make a move, somebody either captured your attention, or somebody else came up to him. And god, had Michael Buble always been that irritating? The more the party went on, the more his sultry Christmas baritone began to grate against Jake.  At some point, he knew, he had to call it quits. When it was almost midnight, he decided he had to give up, even if he knew he’d regret it later. The stars didn’t seem to want to align on this one. 

Jake started to weave his way down the hall towards the bathroom, where to his surprise, there you were. Y/N. Somehow looking even cuter than the last time he saw you, and both of you probably drunker too. 

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, delighted. You looked up, startled, and then flashed a smile. 

“Jake! What’s up dude!” He internally winced at the dude. How could he have been friendzoned so quickly? 

“Um. You know. Just…gonna go take a piss I guess?” He said awkwardly. 

“Oh! Cool!” And you also kicked yourself at the awkward answer.  

“So. Y/N. Do you have a partner?” “Beg pardon?”

Jake immediately turned beet red. 

“Like…a boyfriend, girlfriend, companion of nonbinary origin?”

“Nonbinary origin? Like did I pull them from a fucking crater on Mars?”

“N-no! No! God no!” Jake put his head in his hands. “I am just trying to make conversation, and I’m failing so badly at that.” You stare at the boy quizzically, and start bubble up in laughter. 

“You sure are something Jake.” 

“I’ll do us all a favor and kill myself,” he groaned. 

“No that’ll be awkward. I do have to see Hee and Jay on Monday.”  

Jake made an indiscernible sound. 

“I’m painfully single. By the way.” 

“Huh?”

“I do not have a boyfriend, girlfriend, Mars Rover, or otherwise nonbinary partner. I am, chronically, painfully, single.” Immediately, Jake perked up. “Oh! Yeah me too!” 

“You sound proud of it.” 

“Are you hellbent on embarrassing me?”

“Maybe. It’s fun.” 

Jake looks up and there’s a wicked smirk on your face. He really wants to wipe it off your lips, preferably with his lips. Too bad there’s no mistletoe around. The bathroom door swung open and you waved at him. 

“See you around Jakey!” And you slipped inside, leaving him floored and most possibly, hopelessly in love.

[onthewaytosomewhere]

thanks for the tags @cha-melodius @eusuntgratie, @kiwiana-writes, @firenati0n, @run-for-chamo-miles

(snatching the open tags from @caterpills, & @alasse9 while i'm at it)

your girl wrote so much this year ... 349 K words in 58 fics and 14 collections of ficlet friday ficlets (some of which have or are in the process of becoming actual full fics lolz) and a bunch more words in WIPs (40 or so in the folder) that are still waiting for me to just finish them (or come back to them) already! lolz - I wrote in 3 fandoms and 15 different pairings that have been posted this year and a couple others that didn't get there quite yet) - i've officially posted the last of my fics for the year so here we go

so this is a lot of fic listed here so we're gonna so put it behind a cut

JANUARY

Ring on His Finger, Putty in His Hands (RWRB, firstprince, 2.9k, E) - engaged boys that i had so planned to make a series and the rest of the ideas are still sitting in my WIP folder lolz

FEBRUARY

the second hand unwinds (RWRB, firstprince, 3.6k, G) - girldads fic for Hey Sweetheart challenge

i've got you acting like you want more (RWRB, firstprince, 3.3k, E) - brownstone era pre-engagement - the boys re-uniting after a week apart fic also for the Hey Sweetheart challenge

- like the way you work it - (RWRB, firstprince, 3.4k, E) - smut where Henry takes care of Alex

Setting The Bar High (RWRB, firstprince, 2.3k, E) - the boys celebrate their first birthdays in Texas (Becz bday fic)

MARCH

gotta sign 'em all (RWRB, firstprince, 6k, T) - fic inspired by TZP and his fascination with a lil pink book and the way he's so damn ACD-coded

APRIL

Something in your mouth (RWRB, fristprince, 3.7k, E) - fic inspired by the Nickelback song - Alex sees Henry at a party with a sucker in his mouth and needs to experience that mouth

baby just say yes (RWRB, fristprince, 20.6k, E) TSwift fairytale done for the brownstone's eras tour challenge (this was my first firstprince fairytale but i have plans for different one lolz - have a desire to do it better lolz)

MAY

Makin' memories I might remember (RWRB, firstprince, 7k, E) - the first of my not-so-much one night stands fics - this one has alive arthur and has the boys falling in luv with their one night stands

just a bit of fun (RWRB, firstprince, 2.7k, fic for Adina's bday - this all started from a silly convo and then became fic lolz

JUNE

and fight the break of dawn (RWRB, liam/pez, 6.6K, E) a southern philanthropy not-so-much one night stand fic (2nd in series)

JULY

2 is better than 1 - 3 is better than 2 (when we’re back at 2 wanna stay there with u) (RWRB, alex/henry/pip & firstprince, 19.5K, E) this is that alex/henry/pip (fristprinceS) incest-y fic i wrote for Tiff

my slutty royal (RWRB, firstprince, 1.1K, E) this was an inspired by art fic - strawberry helados by papiercranes

nights at the moonlight coffee shop (RWRB, firstprince, 15.1k, E) my werepire all-night coffee shop au for ficwip dark & cozy challenge

AUGUST

in the kitchen, at kensington, with those threadbare pajama pants (RWRB, alex/shaan, 1.2K, E) first in the shaan srivastava is too hot for his own good series - alex "beats it" to thoughts of shaan and his sexy pajama pants

bringing home silver (RWRB, fristprince, 7.7K, E) alex/henry olympics engagement fic (w/a side of southern philanthropy)

I'm gonna be a mighty king … (RWRB, firstprince, 878 words, T) just a silly fic inspired by a QOTD from a discord group

seeking the (sex) services of a witch (RWRB, firstprince, 4.5K, M) fic for ficwip 5K challenge - witch Henry helps out an Alex that may have been cursed

SEPTEMBER

a hug in clothing form (RWRB, firstprince, 3.2K, E) Oodie fic inspired by art - this lovely piece by Ash

in my dreams, at oxford, still with those damn pajama pants (RWRB, firstprince & henry/shaan, 3.6K, E) fic for the shaan srivastava is too hot for his own good series - henry tells alex about some dreams he had and that time he drunkenly hit on shaan - alex seduces it out of him

it's times like these you learn to live again (9-1-1, buddie (at the end), 4.4K, M) streetfigher!Buck buddie fic - came from combining 2 ficlet friday prompts

What if I say I love you (RWRB & 9-1-1, alex/buck, 2.8K, T) firstfire fic - meet the 'rents and "launching their relationship publicly"

on the kiss cam with you (RWRB, firstprince, 1.6k, T) another fic inspired by art - this comic piece by firstprnnce

thoroughly appreciated (RWRB, firstptince, 1K, M) a fic for the brownstone's firstprince week prompt “Did you get my note?” & secrets

help me forget for just a bit... (RWRB, firstprince, 1.2K, E) fic for the brownstone's firstprince week prompt silver & hurt/comfort - alex comforts henry with his mouth after he's had a rough day

you're still written in the scars on my heart (RWRB, firstprince, 2K, T) fic for the brownstone's firstprince week prompt “I can’t do this again” & hot or cold

OCTOBER

soulmates, star wars, and insufferable aresholes (RWRB, firstprince, 1.8k, M) soulmates fic where alex spoiled the death of han solo in his first words to henry - firstprince week fic

love & family is all we need ... (RWRB, firstprince, 953 words, G) Alex helps Henry through a memorial service for Arthur Fox - fox family feels abound - firstprince week fic

Schlorp of True Love, a Fairytale (RWRB, firstprince, 6.3K, E) a crackfic co-write with Mags and Tiff - this is what comes from when we put late night rambles into a doc lolz (soulmates but make it enormous dicks and stretchy holes)

But the words that he was whispering I couldn't stop from listening (RWRB, liam/pez, 4.7K, E) oh what is that i wrote another southern philanthropy - yes, of course! - another installment of my not-so-much one night stands series

these go in the keep pile (911, bucktommy, 1.8k, E) buck finds his old cowboy hat and puts it to good use OR my save horse ride a cowboy bucktommy fic

just a bit of full moon fun (RWRB, firstprince, 9.2K, E) werepire full moon sexin' - sequel to nights at the moonlight coffee shop fic

it takes everything i have not to melt (RWRB, firstprince, 1.4K, T) a first date college au firstprince fic for all-ships ship week

not because of some grand romantic declaration but because it feels right (RWRB, liam/pez, 1.2K, T) a southern philanthropy fic about a quiet night in and liam's feels

how meaningful the silences (RWRB, liam/pez, 1.2K, T) pez's pov of that domestic southern philanthropy

is this décor or a sex toy? (RWRB, firstprince, 2.8K, E) a silly lil fic that starts with pez sending the boys things for their new house and ends with them in bed (of course)

she has feelings about this, complicated ones (RWRB, junora, 1.8K, T) ooops! there's just one bed for all-ships ship week

not just a possibility, not just a dream (RWRB, firstprince, 5.1K, M) part 3 of werepire firstprince - this one with an adorable shifter kit that they adopt

NOVEMBER

I hope that someone gets my… (RWRB, firstprince, 12.9K, M) my AWY submission - message in a bottle fic

leaving no doubt that he owns this moment (RWRB, firstprince, 2.9K, M) alex lures henry to a victoria secret show and surprises him (inspired by a tumblr post that i rambled in tags on)

"Wanna get out of here?” (RWRB, alex/pez, 7.5K. E) a pez/alex college au bar hookup

Say that again (RWRB RPF, TZP/Clifton, 1.3K, E) so ... i ventured back into RPF as happens sometimes lolz - just pure smut

souls are not bound by simple explanations (RWRB, fristprince, 8.8K, T) A platonic soulmate fic where Philip is a good brother and Alex and Henry slow burn their way to a relationship. Told from Philip's POV

let me take care of you (RWRB, alex/pez, 6.6K, E) Pez being the great friend he is takes the very best care of an in heat Alex when Henry's out of town

gonna need you to tell me what you want to happen here (RWRB, firstprince & alex/pip, 7.8K, E) Pip reminisces, and Alex reveals something he'd neglected to tell Henry - pip had alex first

DECEMBER

born to ride (RWRB, firstprince, 3.6K, E)  trampstamp cowboy ACD (as this was called on my doc) meets and rides Henry fic that was of course inspired by a tumblr post and rambling in tags (also Leeks bday fic)

made for moments like this (RWRB, firstprince, 931 words, G) this is just Henry being sappy about his little family around the holidays

decorations and family lore (RWRB, firstprince, 905 words, G) Alex and the Fox siblings decorating a tree while they reminisce for rwrb festive fan fest

this year feels different (RWRB, firstprince, 1.3K, E) southern philanthropy soft holiday fic for the rwrb festive fan fest

Punch him with your mouth? (RWRB & 9111, firstprince, buddie, 1K, G) alex and buck are stranded at a hotel due to inclement weather and bond over missed food and feels for the boys in their lives (rwrb fff)

a lifeline through the holiday chaos (RWRB, junora, 1K,M) junora cuddling while watching a holiday movie for the rwrb fff (and Morgan's bday)

underneath the christmas tree (RWRB, firstprince & alex/pip, 7K, E) sequel to 3some fic where martha arranges a gift for pip under the xmas tree for rwrb fff (& tiff - cuz well she get all the sequels lolz)

bonding with his 'sisters'  (RWRB, firstprince, gen, 5.5K, T) Bea recruits Alex to help her and Martha find a gift for Henry and they enjoy a little bit of pampering. Alex bonds with his "fox sisters"

definitely taking a turn for the better (RWRB, alex/liam/pez with some fristprince and southern philanthropy at the end, 2.1K, E) pez brings the boys home from a party and when alex is on his way out he meets henry and well numbers might be exchanged my last fic for rwrbfff

everything he'll ever want (RWRB, liam/pez/spencer, 1.9k, M) a lil bit of holiday tranquility, softness and luv written for The Curio Cabinet rare pair exchange

Lights, Camera, Holliday Luv (RWRB, firstprince, 52K, E) pornstar alex and former boybander henry make a holiday movie and probably fall in luv (my big dec fic - my first multichapter posted chapter by chapter)

as near to peace as he ever gets (RWRB, henry/shaan, 804 words, M) in what has become a tradition when he's sloshed henry rubs off one shaan's thigh, oxford slut phase henry, written from a prompt for the Curio Cabinet that didn't make the cut for the exchange

a moment to savor (RWRB, oscar/raf, 845 words M) bb's first oscar/raf - some kissing on the couch that raf has some thoughts and feels about, also wriitten from a Curio Cabinet prompt

okay no pressure tag ur it to @adreamareads @basil-bird @bitbybitwrites @blueeyedgrlwrites @cactusdragon517

@stnichols @cricketnationrise @dragonflylady77 @dreamtigress @emmalostinwonderland

@england-would-fall @everwitch-magiks @firstprincehornyramblings @firstsprinces @forever-fixating

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @iboatedhere @inexplicablymine @jmagnabo92 @judasofsuburbia

@mikibwrites @myheartalivewrites @ninzied @nocoastposts

@orchidscript @piratefalls @porcelainmortal @priincebutt

@seths-rogens @softboynick @sophie1973 @sparklepocalypse @stellarmeadow

@stratocumulusperlucidus @suseagull5914 @tailsbeth-writes @taste-thewaste @thedramasummer

@thinkof-england @typicalopposite @thesleepyskipper @thighzp

@tinyarmedtrex @zwiazdziarka

[attempted--eloquence]

Oh that we could always see such spirit through the year

-whats one thing you wanted for xmas as a kid that you never got

The message comes just after midnight. Theo imagines Liam on the other side of town thinking about him. Squinting past the glare of his phone screen in a dark room while Theo does the same from his truck.

-Why

Theo doesn’t want to think about this. He considers replying some peace and fucking quiet or its meaner alternative, for you to leave me alone, but thinks he might have worn out his be-an-asshole-and-then-say-jk privileges by now.

-just curious

Earlier today there was a holiday crafting event in the library’s children’s literature section. Tables of kids and their parents cutting snowflakes out of paper and drowning the end result in Elmer’s glue and glitter. Theo never learned how to do the snowflake thing as a child but standing there watching kids haphazardly snip away at folded sheets of paper and unfurl their creations, he almost wanted to.

This time of year makes him feel like that. The snipped-away thing. All those discarded paper trimmings.

❅❆❄ ❅❆❄ ❅❆❄ ❅❆❄ ❅❆❄ ❅❆❄

Theo still believed in Santa Claus when the Dread Doctors took him.

That first December with them Theo was eight, freshly monstered and only knew Christmas day had come because he kept a tally of each passing day on a crumpled sheet of notebook paper stuck to the underside of his cot. But then again time was slippery those days. When Theo woke up presentless on what he thought was December 25th—the 86th day of his new life—he assumed Santa hadn’t gotten his new address yet. He didn’t know his new address yet himself.

The next year, on the 451st day of his life—not new anymore, just his—he rationalized that he made the naughty list. That’s what happens when kids do bad things. They wake up presentless. They wake up on a surgical table and forget how they got there. They wake up and etch another tally mark into the wall of the place they sleep—with claws they know how to use now—because they ran out of room on the crumpled sheet of notebook paper months ago and needed something more permanent.

He doesn’t remember what happened the year after, or the year after that, or the next.

When Scott proposed a pack-wide “12 days of secret santa” Theo politely declined. When Scott texted him two days later to notify him that everyone else had agreed and he’d be the odd man out, Theo not-so-politely declined. Again. The next day Scott sent a link, nothing else. Theo clicked it to find himself on one of those stupid customizable e-card websites; an animated red and green present bopped around the screen flashing OPEN ME! In hindsight, it’s at this point that Theo should have set aside his phone, pretended not to have seen the message, and gone on his merriless way. But he’s a steadfast masochist so he jabbed at the stupid fucking animated present and it exploded into stupid fucking animated red and green confetti that dispersed to reveal a stupid fucking animated picture of Stiles. His giftee. For the 12 days of secret santa he pointedly did not agree to.

And Theo should perhaps be annoyed at that, but instead he’s wondering if the unlucky bastard that drew his name saw a similarly stupid fucking animated picture of his face. He hopes it was flattering, at least.

Scott:

-Three rules ok

-No revealing ur identity until christmas

-No spending money so get creative

-And u have to give a gift everyday til christmas starting on the 14th

-Have fun! (not a rule but a suggestion)

-Got a notif that u opened the link btw

- :)

Fine, whatever. Malicious compliance, then.

❅❆❄

He gets the text moments after leaving the first of 12 gifts on the front porch of the Stilinski household: a black dry erase marker taped to a piece of notebook paper that says, “thought you might need this.”

-ho ho ho

There’s a boring but noteworthy story to this. The marker, not the text. One that starts with a pack meeting at the Stilinski residence, leads to an outrageously ridiculous debate over which pack members should get whiteboard privileges—and, by extension, get to use his “super cool brand new ultra pristine” chisel tip markers—and ends with Theo slipping out of the house with the 12-pack of Expos stuffed beneath his sweatshirt in an act of petty revenge theft.

12-pack. It’s almost serendipitous.

His phone buzzes again during his getaway.

-ready for your first gift?

-doesn’t matter bc youre getting it anyway

-this is your secret santa btw

It’s a random number, probably one generated from a texting app.

-Shocker

-today’s gift is…

-(waiting for a drumroll)

He’d roll his eyes but the dramatic effect would be lost on his secret santa. Instead, he replies: Not getting one

-fuck you too then scrooge

-the gift is a compliment, so here it goes

-I admire your commitment to wearing at least two layers of clothing at all times

He didn’t think it was possible to get a worse gift than a stolen box of dry erase markers returned piecemeal.

-crickets?

-really nothing?

-not even a thx

-whatever man, talk to you later

And so it begins.

❅❆❄

-sooooo..

-Yes?

-I left you a gift

-did you not get it

-What was it?

-a candy cane

-Oh

When Theo left the rec center this morning it was stuck beneath his windshield wiper like a festive parking ticket. He assumed it was some bullshit random act of holiday kindness, that he was the coincidental victim of some cheery stranger vandalizing people’s cars with candy canes to make them feel good about themselves.

-oh?

-I think the words you’re looking for are thank you

-Didn’t eat it

-wtaf

-why not???

-I don’t like peppermint

-neither do I

-that’s why it was strawberry flavored you dick

Alright, so maybe he feels a little bad for tossing it in the trash can on the sidewalk before getting in his truck. Just a little.

❅❆❄

A green post-it note with a ballpoint pen and highlighter rendition of Snoopy atop a holiday-decorated dog house is taped to the driver’s side window of Theo’s truck when he slinks out of Deaton’s clinic after a few hours of cataloging wolfsbane strains. Beneath it is another sticky note with a drawing of what Theo can only assume is a stick figure version of himself reacting to the drawing of Snoopy. Big, mean frown on his face. There’s a thought bubble above his misshapen head that reads, “bah humbug!” Actually half-decent. The drawings, not Deaton’s busy work. He tucks them away in his glove box instead of tossing anything in the trash this time.

-So you’re stalking me

He would try to narrow down who his anonymous gifter could be, but that would require conceding interest in this whole charade. Which he lacks entirely. Really. Even though Stiles’s increasingly irate pack chat rants about the slow return of his stolen dry erase markers sparks a special kind of holiday joy in him.

-nah I’m secret santa-ing you

-so do you like the gift?

-have you ever even seen a charlie brown christmas

He pauses, pulls the Snoopy sticky note out of the glovebox as if to jog his memory. As if his memory is even a trustworthy thing past a certain point.

-Yeah I think so

-A long time ago

Like, before he started keeping a tally of every day. Like when days were just new wakeups and not milestones. That long ago.

-“I think so”

-geez

-you really are scrooge

-I’ve got some work to do huh

-Guess so

❅❆❄

Okay. Fine. He knows his secret santa is Liam. Whatever. It was basic deduction—no effort involved whatsoever.

He knows because the last pack meeting was held at Liam’s place. Liam’s living room has been cannibalized by a massive, gaudy christmas tree adorned with tinsel, sparkly garland, rainbow lights, and ornaments galore. And candy canes. The same pinkish white striped kind that Theo chucked away a few days ago.

So he stole one, just to check. Sidled up close to the tree like he was admiring the lights, snatched a candy cane when no one was looking and hid it away in his jeans pocket.

Plus, not like Theo was chasing a hunch or anything, when Mason asked Liam for a sticky note to jot down the name of a bestiary to research, Liam returned with a green post-it. Same lime-y shade as the ones still in Theo’s glove box.

And then, not like he needed any further confirmation, but he just so happened to text his secret santa—what’s in store for me today?—right as Liam slipped out to the bathroom, leaving his phone behind. It chimed.

So, it was that easy.

The only thing that makes him second-guess his suspicion is that his gift is sitting on the roof of his truck when he leaves the pack meeting, which, unless Liam has mastered the art of self-replication or enlisted someone else to assist, would kind of be impossible to do on his own.

Whatever. Theory still stands until proven otherwise.

The gift is a ziploc bag that contains a green cat’s eye marble, an oblong, striated rock, a silver dollar, and a flattened wildflower with crisp, browning petals that crumble when he touches them. It’s not until hours after the pack meeting that Theo gets a response to his initial text.

-dude

-for a scrooge you sure are invested in trying to blow my cover

-anyway, day 4: cool stuff I found in the woods!

He puts the bag away with the sticky notes and the pilfered candy cane. His glove compartment is becoming a secret santa shrine.

-You should’ve spread these out as multiple gifts

-shit

-you’re right

❅❆❄

Theo cracks that night. Cat, curiosity. He nabs the candy cane from his glovebox, unwraps it, and gives it one tentative lick.

Strawberry.

❅❆❄

-snow is so cold

-the sky is blue

-this is your 5th gift

-how did I do?

-I don’t think you’re a future poet laureate if that’s what you’re asking

❅❆❄

On his sixth day of driving Stiles crazy, Theo drops a sky blue marker off on the Stilinski household’s doorstep sans cap. Halfway through all 12 days and, as much fun as Theo’s having being the worst secret santa ever, the marker drops are beginning to feel a bit pedestrian.

In an unfortunate turn of events, the texts from his own secret santa have become a highlight of the increasingly bleak and banal California winter.

December break has been hard. He wakes up. He goes to the rec center to work out and shower instead of school because the building is closed. He drops off a “gift” for Stiles. He works a shift at Deaton’s and loiters until he can’t find any other excuses to stick around. He kills time at the library. He sleeps in shifts, moves his truck around town a couple times a night so as not to rouse suspicion from Beacon Hills’s finest parking enforcement officers.

And amidst it all, he waits for Liam to text.

-happy day 6

-today’s gift is pro bono advice

-consider me your sounding board

-your oracle

-your magic conch shell

-And you think I need your advice why?

Doesn’t mean he won’t be an ass about it.

-theo come on

-I am trying my best here but you are making this so hard

-I’m kidding

-Sorry

-you’re not but ok

-Whatever

-I’ll take your stupid advice

-I’m all ears

-If I wanted to hypothetically annoy the shit out of the recipient of my secret santa gifts

-And those gifts were hypothetically items I hypothetically stole from said recipient

-And I had hypothetically been returning those items in the most annoying way possible

-How do I make it even more annoying?

-oh my god

-unhypothetically stiles is going to kill you

-He can try

Theo waits as Liam’s little text bubble appears, disappears. Pops up again. Lingers. Until, finally—

-ok here’s what you could do

-switch all the caps so they’re different colors

-and scratch the logo off the outside so everything is blank and it’s a mystery which color is which

-Meh

-well ok then mr. degeneracy

-you could return the caps and markers on separate days

-Did that already

-oh or make it a really stupid scavenger hunt so that he has to find the markers and/or caps himself

-bonus points if you write the clues in the marker color that he’s looking for

-Huh

-That’s more like it

-this doesn’t make me an accomplice tho

-got it?

-Wouldn’t give you credit even if you wanted it

-gee thanks

-I thought evil plots were supposed to be my thing anyway

-lol

-if you were actually any good at them we wouldn’t be having this conversation rn

❅❆❄

-whats one thing you wanted for xmas as a kid that you never got

The message comes just after midnight. Theo imagines Liam on the other side of town thinking about him. Squinting past the glare of his phone screen in a dark room while Theo does the same from his truck.

-Why

Theo doesn’t want to think about this. He considers replying some peace and fucking quiet or its meaner alternative, for you to leave me alone, but thinks he might have worn out his be-an-asshole-and-then-say-jk privileges by now.

-just curious

Earlier today—yesterday technically, whatever—there was a holiday crafting event in the library’s children’s literature section. Tables of kids and their parents cutting snowflakes out of paper and drowning the end result in Elmer’s glue and glitter. Theo never learned how to do the snowflake thing as a child but standing there watching kids haphazardly snip away at folded sheets of paper and unfurl their creations, he almost wanted to.

This time of year makes him feel like that. The snipped-away thing. All those discarded paper trimmings.

-helloooo

-fine, I’ll start

-I wanted a razor scooter so bad but my mom was convinced I was gonna fall off and crack my head open or knock all my teeth out

-joke’s on her bc only time I ever chipped a tooth or got a head injury was playing lacrosse

If Theo gave a shit about the secret santa rules, he would chide Liam on that slip-up. He’s not even trying to keep his identity a secret anymore.

-ok now your turn

That first Christmas with the Dread Doctors—

It sounds ridiculous that way. The Surgeon, The Geneticist, The Pathologist and Theo huddled around a Christmas tree or something. Rainbow string lights in the operating theater and fruit cake in the specimen fridge. Der Soldat’s tube adorned with a wreath.

—Day 86 of his new life. He remembers having a Christmas list. They took out his heart but didn’t take the naivete and want out of him. There was a book on it, the list. Probably toys too, but if he thinks too hard about those he might remember that he really was a kid then. Was a kid, period.

-Do you remember those books

-They had white covers and like a collage of pictures of whatever subject the book was about on the front

-There was one for pretty much any topic you could think of

-yeah I think so

-hold on

There’s that text bubble again. Headlights cascade across the truck’s interior as a car passes by and carries on farther down the road.

-DK eyewitness?

-Yeah. They had a book about outer space

-I wanted that I guess

-of course you’d want a textbook for xmas

-nerd

Snip, snip, snip.

-Is today’s gift you annoying the fuck out of me?

Sometimes Theo makes the mistake of forgetting why they’re talking to each other. For the next five days he’ll remain an obligation. After that, an afterthought.

More empty roads. Early sunsets. Winter dark.

-I was joking

-I’m sorry

-I used to read those…had one about dinosaurs, one about ancient egypt + another about medieval weapons

-oh and one about sharks

-they were awesome

-Rule 1

He says it to reinstate distance between them more than anything.

-yeah yeah whatever

-every kid read those books, that hardly counts as identifying information

-anyway today’s gift is an IOU to be redeemed @ any point in the next 365 days

-No exceptions?

-uh yeah exceptions?? are you crazy

-no murder

-or like crime of any kind

-and it can’t cost $$$

-Shitty IOU

-well sometimes you get a candy cane in your stocking

-sometimes you get a lump of coal

-merry christmas dirtbag

-and goodnight

❅❆❄

Theo has long since learned his lesson about opening random, unprompted links—thanks, Scott—so when day eight’s gift comes in the form of a dropbox URL, he pointedly ignores it.

For a while. Until a follow-up message from his secret santa comes through, that is.

-so…did you open it?

-Nope

-dude come on

-I’m actually excited about this one

-I think you’ll like it

Okay. Fine. Consider his interest piqued. He clicks the stupid link to the stupid dropbox and what he finds is a movie library. Christmas movie library.

He fights back an eyeroll before remembering Liam can’t see his exasperation, and opts to lose the battle anyway.

-Movies?

-a charlie brown christmas!

-and a few of my other favorite Christmas movies

-the old kind of uncanny valley claymation ones

-Not in the mood

-Christmas is in four days how could you not be in the mood

-I personally pirated these for you

-show some appreciation

Liam follows up the message with a gif of Charlie Brown decorating a Christmas tree.

-you after your movie marathon

-Bald?

-lmao shut up and enjoy your movies, mr. grinch

❅❆❄

Theo watches all three hours of pirated Christmas specials because he’s awake when nothing else is. Consumes the world in reds and greens and whites and blues. Felted snow and stop motion. He figures the movies might bore him to sleep, at least, but afterward he’s tired in a new way.

Could sleep for days. Could sleep right through Christmas. Wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks.

Wouldn’t miss much.

❅❆❄

It’s not like Theo sits around waiting all day for his secret santa to text him, but not hearing anything by nearly 11:00 p.m. is out of the ordinary, to say the least.

So Theo takes a page out of Liam’s his secret santa’s book.

-Sooo

-Day 9?

-sorry, I didn’t forget

-just haven’t figured anything out yet

-shit idk man thinking of 12 free gifts is hard

-you like hugs? need one?

-**to be redeemed at a later date**

-Forget I asked

-ok how about this

-your 9th gift is a free vent sesh, get something off your chest

-judgement free zone over here I stg

-I’m good

-cmon there’s gotta be something you feel like bitching about

-you’re you

-regrets, shit that’s bothering you, pet peeves or whatever

His fingers stutter against the keys and then revoke themselves. He’s the source of the appearing and disappearing text bubble this time. Almost sent you’re bothering me, because it's right there, cheap and easy and more in character for him than being honest—doesn’t go against his personal credo of “keep everyone at arm’s length.”

-don’t leave me hanging

-you’re making me feel like a shitty gift giver

-You don’t have to give me anything

-Seriously I don’t care

-I didn’t want to do the secret santa thing anyway

-I don’t think I’ve gotten a christmas gift since I was like 7

-lol

-dude

So much for arm’s length.

Liam’s typing, and typing, and typing, and Theo figures he doesn’t know what to say just as much as Theo doesn’t know how to make this admission not a big thing.

Maybe a “jk” would help.

-I’m sorry

And then Liam’s back to his magic trick of the appearing and disappearing text bubble while Theo considers tossing his phone out his window and reversing over it.

His participation was a misstep. The pack’s secret santa gimmick is a contagion that creates the illusion of temporary closeness. The one-sided anonymity afforded by the game will only last a few more days but after that Liam will still know more about the past ten years of his life than Theo has ever cared to deliberately divulge. The thought of that makes him itch.

So he’s gotta nip this shit in the bud before Liam can say anything else about it.

-I’m cashing in my IOU

-ok?

-what for

-For you to drop this

-The whole secret santa thing

-No more days

An answer doesn’t come for a long time.

-fine.

But when it does, Theo isn’t sure that what he feels is relief.

❅❆❄

“Someone dropped these off for you,” Deaton says in lieu of a greeting when Theo shows up for his opening shift.

On the counter in front of him is a saran wrapped paper plate of cookies. Upon closer inspection, they’re studded with red and green M&Ms and topped with white, snowflake-shaped sprinkles that match the pattern on the plate. There’s a green sticky note slapped on top. “For Theo,” it reads. “Not getting rid of me that easily.” Next to the cookies is a thermos with another sticky note. This one says "Drink me!”

His shift’s early. 7:30 in the morning on a Saturday. Theo should be bothered that Liam is ignoring his IOU but can’t help but be impressed by the commitment. What he has grown to have the most faith in is the fact that people will inevitably grow tired of him and deem him not worth the effort.

He keeps biting. Liam keeps reaching out a hand anyway. Theo’s trying not to feel weird about it.

Deaton clears his throat.

Theo plays dumb. Asks, “Who?”

“I didn’t happen to see them.”

But the faint smirk on Deaton’s face says otherwise.

“Mystery cookies and a mystery beverage from a mystery person,” he huffs. “I’ll pass. Could be poisoned.”

Deaton quirks a brow. “Unlikely. But there’s only one way to find out.”

He pushes the gifts toward Theo.

“I’ll be in the back. Take your time.”

Theo spends the first fifteen minutes of his shift getting sated on christmas cookies and thick hot chocolate—still warm.

The rest of the day plods on without a word from Liam. Theo doesn’t blame him.

He spends a lot of time thinking about those M&Ms on top of the cookies, though. Each one evenly spaced from the rest, pressed down ever so slightly into the crests of the cookies. Alternating reds and greens. Imagines Liam taking the time to place each one.

Theo tries not to feel weird about it.

❅❆❄

Nothing’s ever open on Christmas Eve. Just malls and grocery stores. Theo is in the canned goods aisle running his fingers against the ridges of a can of pineapple rings, soaking up socialization by proxy, when the texts come in.

-hey

-so it’s day 11

-we’re almost done with this, just bear with me here

-today’s gift is 11 affirmations

-#1: you’re really smart

Theo gives up on feigning interest in shelf-stable goods. He commandeers the endcap—there’s a special on Spam, if anyone’s interested—and has to fight back an audible groan.

-Stop

-This is the same as day 1

-And I told you I’m done with this

-dude no it isn’t

-just let me do this

-#2: you’re weirdly good at keeping those white sneakers of yours clean

#3: you’re actually a lot of help when you want to be

-so i’m glad to have you on our side

-I’m going to block you

-for once can you not be an asshole

-this is your gift and it can’t possibly be more unbearable for you than it is for me

Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Theo won’t wait around to find out.

Block this Caller.

Blocking the number is a gift for both of them. Liam probably wouldn’t even be able to come up with 9 more nice things to say about him anyway. It’s fine. Today’s basically the last day of the secret santa bullshit before tomorrow’s “reveal” at the pack Christmas party anyway. He can text Theo from his actual phone number if he wants.

If he wants.

But the rest of the day drags by in isolation. Theo almost misses the desperate clamor of the grocery store. No follow-up messages from his secret santa via a new text app number. No reprimand from Scott. Not even a group chat bitchfit from Stiles about today’s marker scavenger hunt that led him into the preserve to excavate a marker that Theo cut the tip off of. Just an all-around silence.

Guess it’s a Christmas miracle.

❅❆❄

The only thing that gets Theo to the pack Christmas party at Scott’s is the satisfaction of being able to hand Stiles his last marker in person.

Except it’s not the last marker, because Theo has decided to keep that one—bold red, pristine chisel tip—for himself. Instead, Stiles will get a dingy yellow highlighter from the bottom of Theo’s backpack. The moldy cherry on top of a shit sundae.

But before Theo can make it up the driveway and to the front door, he’s promptly dragged away from Scott’s front door and forced over to the side of the house by Liam.

“Hi,” he greets, demeanor somewhere between annoyed and hesitant. He’s got one arm angled behind his back, keeping something out of Theo’s line of sight.

“Liam,” Theo says, feigning surprise that definitely falls short of convincing. “Hey.”

“Look, I know you knew it was me the whole time. Your secret santa.”

“Maybe.”

“Texting me during that pack meeting was a dick move and you know it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s what I did to piss you off most over the past twelve days,” Theo retorts. It’s almost an apology for his nearly two weeks of assholery. Almost.

Liam exhales an almost-laugh in return. “About that. Without everyone around, I just wanted to—here.”

He shoves the hidden thing into Theo’s grasp.

“Your last gift.”

It’s a book. White cover, a collage of planets and satellites and stars across the front. DK Eyewitness logo and UNIVERSE emblazoned across the top in orange letters.

The book.

Theo gets this kind of gutted, breathless feeling. Keeps turning the book over in his hands, running his fingers along the pages, like he expects it to disappear if he looks away for too long. He wants to write his name on the inside. Thinks he might.

“We weren’t supposed to spend any money,” he says.

It’s dumb, but it’s the only thing he can vocalize without losing his composure. Something’s clogging his throat. Gratitude and guilt. Almost ten years of wanting.

“It was like five bucks. Don’t worry about it,” Liam shrugs, small and unsure.

Inside the front cover Theo finds a green sticky note.

Merry Christmas.

“I wasn’t sure if this was the one you were talking about,” Liam says, voice laden with a preemptive apology. “I googled it and they have a bunch of different space-related books. Planets, and stars, and astronomy, and even space exploration. Figured ‘the universe’ kinda covered all of that.”

It’s embarrassing, the way Theo’s voice gets all tight when he stammers out, “It’s, uh—yeah. This is it. Thank you.”

Liam exhales, long and relieved. He rocks back on his heels. It feels like he’s staring not just at Theo but into him when he says, “This can be a shitty time of year for a lot of people. For a lot of reasons. You don’t, um. You don’t have to carry that weight into the new year, you know.”

Theo thinks of gray December. Empty roads. Cold nights.

Liam drags his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes flitting from the book to Theo. Adds, “At least, not all by yourself.”

❅❆❄

Liam Dunbar:

-so…

-you got plans for NYE?

-asking for a friend

-I’ll check my schedule

❅❆❄

On the 3,287 day of his life, Theo stops counting.

[mymoshangthoughts]

i think i have the unpopular opinion that airplane is an egotist lol

i do enjoy reading fics where he's like "i dont deserve good things, this guy is way out of my league" and i do totally get where people are coming from when they characterize him that way but more and more lately im just like

"what about the comments?"

like i dont think that airplane has a SUPER high opinion of himself, but i think he's just kinda... confident? like when he reads fucking essays online about how his writing sucks he's able to laugh his ass off over it and even join in the fray. so i keep thinking rather than him being like "i dont deserve this nice thing", he'd more have a "SCORE! nice thing for me!! WHOO!" reaction. and when a bad thing happened, instead of being super "this is the saddest day of my life, someone was mean to me", he'd be more "omfg did you like fr waste your time being mean to me? thats actually pretty embarrassing for you lmfao, r u oki bro?"

like kinda that terminally online asshole internet troll of a person who just doesnt take shit seriously and has enough self esteem to just legitimately not give a fuck when someone is shitty

ofc it's different with demons who can literally skin him alive, theres a huge difference between someone saying "youre ugly" and someone breaking every bone in his body, so its not like he doesn't cower when necessary

but also inwardly he just has the confidence to not be effected much by cowering. like "lol imma hug this thigh bc i aint stupid but the fact that this asshole needs me to hug his thigh says a looottttt more about him than it says about me"

idk im just kinda wanting to see more unapologetically confident airplane who just does not give a fuck about anyones opinion so long as the opinion is coming from someone who cant actually fuck him over in a significant way. like sha hualing? obvs care about her opinion, she can gut him. some rando disciple? "lmfao out of my way loser, im gay"

also i kinda wanna see that confidence stripped away until he's a mewling mess but thats just my desire to break down confident characters and make them cry pfff

its so much funnier to me if airplane was actually a pretty impervious sort of person, it's only the extreme nature of his current situation that turned him into a crybaby lmfao

idk if im making sense, i just kinda think of airplane as being a hilarious mixture of "the most self assured guy you've ever met, to an obnoxious extent" and "wait does he have any self esteem at all?!? is he okay?!?" in a fun contradictory way, cuz thats the impression i got of him from canon

also modern au mobei jun getting Very upset bc it feels absolutely impossible to get under airplane's skin. like he's sitting here trying his best to get a reaction and airplane is just "lmfao yea but idgaf abt your opinion sooooooooo"

look, i also think it'd just be awesome if mobei jun is actually most attracted to the egotistical side of shang qinghua. like sure, he thinks that cowering sobbing pathetic hamster shang qinghua is delicious, but give him shang qinghua cackling arrogantly at his detractors with the air of an emperor? mobei jun might actually faint with desire

so like, mobei jun visiting an ding peak so much initially because shang qinghua is sus as fuck and all that jazz, but eventually he's sneaking in as often as possible so that he gets to peak that side of shang qinghua.

like he first notices it when shang qinghua is too absorbed in his paperwork to remember there's a demon lord casually napping on his bed and starts making fun of the lousy penmanship, his fellow disciples, other peak lords, no one is except from his sharp mocking tongue and laughing criticism. but he notices it more and more

someone comes to qinghua's door to throw their weight around? sure, qinghua acts all small and harmless with them there but when they leave, he's cackling about "annndd that pathetic loser thinks that no one knows abt his porn stache, pssshhh, get on my level pleb. especially with your frankly boring as fuck tastes" and qinghua has a dirty sense of humor too and it's sort of driving mobei jun insane

so maybe sometimes he shows up at the peak without announcing his presence, trying to peak what sort of shit that shang qinghua might say about him behind his back and mmaaaayyybbe mobei jun is a bit excited at the prospect and disappointed when it's difficult to hear his name on shang qinghua's tongue

until one glorious day when his timing is just right and shang qinghua is neck deep in the middle of northern desert paperwork and he lets loose and mobei jun isnt sure whats worse: the things that shang qinghua's biting insults are doing to him or how, in stark comparison to the way that shang qinghua insults to others, all of shang qinghua's insults are accompanied by dirty commentary about mobei jun's body and potential sexual prowess in a quite positive light. normally shang qinghua is all "lmfao mr. never-gonna-get-fucked qi-ge is gonna tell me what to do? tough shit my lil bitch, i might be your daddy but i know the full depth of malicious compliance! go back to your brat-kink with jiu-whatever. you might as well be dickless for all the success you've had, mr. virgin mcbitch" but with mobei jun it's a lot more like "oh so mr. sexier than the fucking literal god of this world could have imagined in his dirtiest dreams wants this paperwork by next week? unreasonable brat, so spoiled, i should spoil him, he'd look reeeeaallly hot when spoiled absolutely rotten beneath me hehehh wait above me? hm, anyway, he's being a little bitch but i'll forgive it for that face but also man i wanna just pinch those fucking cheeks sometimes and then--man i bet he'd be really fucking wild in the sack to and--"

absolutely charmed by the display, mobei jun immediately reveals himself and beats shang qinghua senseless as a very clear indication of his intentions. to his absolute dismay, he never hears shang qinghua insulting him again and he doubles the beatings in desperation to somehow get shang qinghua's attention

(shang qinghua does not, in fact, have any actual bad blood against his zhangmen-shixiong, he just has a bad habit of going for the throat when he's in the middle of a tirade bc he was once an internet troll who shamelessly thrived on the anonymity of being able to say anything to anyone. he just really likes to talk shit and if he was in a position of power, would absolutely abuse it to talk shit alllll the time lmfao)

anyway i got pretty off topic bUT MY POINT IS that shang qinghua is best (imho) when he is a shameless egotistical shit-talker who's more or less impervious to the criticism of others

((man just fucking IMAGINE mobei jun's reaction when the ascension ceremony happens? like he FINALLY gets shang qinghua to talk shit to his face no less and then IMMEDIATELY gets abandoned. and like, it was kinda Really Bad Timing and also mobei jun never really wanted to just be a passive participant! he wanted to retort back! he wanted a back and forth! he wanted to refute shang qinghua's claims that he was spoiled just as much as he wanted to hear those claims! he wants the push and pull!!!! SO WHY IS SHANG QINGHUA RUNNING AWAY THAT FUCKING TEASE?!?!))

also as a general note i do think that shang qinghua's whole impervious thing is prolly routed in a lot of the trauma of being unwanted by family and all of that stuff, there was no one around to build his ego up so he built it up all on his own and he's really fucking good at building things up

[angelicsjn]

yooo how would the yanderes react if like the reader was being very close and touchy to her guy friend that she hasn't seen in a while, thank youuu

YOUR SEVEN YANDERES.

A N: Ooo, jealous yanderes?

A B O U T: You are touchy with your friend.

W A R N I N G S: GN reader and GN friend so everyone can enjoy it. Jae being an asshat, as usual.

— ROMAN BEAUREGARD.

Roman is indeed a composed and unreactive man—he has no reason to fear your loyalty unless you give him reason to question it.

Therefore, he will not mind your interactions with your friend. He understands that you haven't seen them in a while. He understands that you are excited.

In fact, he's happy for you. To see you smile and enjoy your time around your friend.

Roman knows how serious things can become when in his life, so be appreciates seeing you smile as carefree as the day he laid eyes on you.

— LATEN REED.

He doesn't care. Flat out. He's a very touchy person and enjoys affection. He will hug anyone. Hell, he'd even hug your friend, too.

Actually, he does. He's so excited to meet your friends, and he wants to create a good impression, so he's down to get involved in whatever you're both doing.

Much like Roman, he enjoys seeing you happy. But unlike Roman, he will join in on your activities and get to know your friend and the version of you that he hasn't seen yet.

— JAE 'NIKO' LEE.

He bleeds from the palm of his hands from his nails as they dig into his flesh—he wants to rip this person's skin off and turn them into a lampshade.

He feels embarrassed. You've actually embarrassed him.

Remember this meme...?

Yeah. That's him.

Once you're alone, he erupts. Blurting tons of verbal abuse, "Are you fucking stupid? You made me look like a fucking fool, basically fucking your stupid fucking friend right in front of me!"

— KAIDAN WOLFE.

Bro is in a world of his own. He's just happy to be there.

He'll hug your friend, and let it linger because anyone who is a friend to you, is a friend to him.

He treats them like he's known them for years and not to make them feel comfortable. No. It's because he's an idiot and believes that they have a connection because you two have one—he's silly like that.

— HAYDEN WEST.

This poor boy walks away feeling so so insecure.

You seemed to enjoy hugging them more. You sat closer to them. Every touch, every movement was picked up by him.

He genuinely feels sick.

He doesn't say anything, though. Of course he doesn't. He'd feel stupid admitting it.

— JOSHUA WHITE.

He believes that your friend is disrespectful—towards you and your innocence but also your relationship with him.

I mean, the way they held you? Wasn't very God honouring!

He feels his fist curl at the sight as they pull you in extra close, their lips to your ear as they whisper—Joshua breathes out and puts on his best face.

If God doesn't handle them, he will have to.

— BLAKE CROSS.

Blake is a bitch and spots the affection before they've even caught you in their grasp, he isn't mad.

He's not even offended.

He feels petty. Which is worse, in my humble opinion.

Once the whole ordeal is over, you'll be asking him what's wrong become the entire time he was quiet and calm—the two very things that he is NOT.

"I don't know, go hug your friend." He shrugs, not even looking your way as he picks lint from his polo shirt.

[motthe]

Hi!! Since you were doing a holiday request event, I would like to request a fic which reader is female, and character we are gonna be with is megumi from jujutsu kaisen. Relationship status would be newly dating and settings ice skating!! Fluff ofc! I hope u have a good day or night!!

my first jjk drabble!!! i hope it’s enjoyable 🥺♥️ happy holidays!!

“This is a waste of time…”

Your fingers froze, the laces in your hands leaving behind the slightest burn from how hard you’d pulled to tighten them.

Lifting your head, you found Megumi scowling off to the side on the bench next to you. The ice skates sat by his feet, ignored.

“What? You don’t want to?”

He tilted his face towards you, brows slanted. “They said we were going out to shop.”

A wave of gibberish went by, the flash of pink giving away Yuji as he skated for his life from a rampaging Nobara. Luckily for him, she seemed to be struggling to keep up. Unfortunately, the speed her feet were running against the ice was enough to propel her after her target.

“C’mon, it’s seasonal fun,” you urged your boyfriend, nudging him as he scoffed and looked away once more.

“The rink is open year round.”

“And yet, this is our first time together.”

His eyes narrowed, shoulders tensing—a sure sign you were wearing him down.

“C’mon, Megs,” you said, wrapping your arms and leaning against him, “let’s go look horrendously stupid together and make memories!”

“That’s not helping your case,” he huffed.

You rubbed your cheek into his shoulder, humming. “Please?”

Instead of answering, he sighed bone-deep and shimmied in your hold.

“Tie your skates, dummy.”

Smiling into his uniform, you squeezed him one last time and resumed tightening your laces.

You were the first out onto the ice, quick to remember how to keep your feet under you. It’d been a good few years since you’d skated but you adapted well enough. It was hard to turn around, though you managed as Megumi grabbed the wall, slow to get one foot on the ice and testing it before fully stepping on. He stuck to the rail, eyes on his skates and body hardened from nerves. You’re sure if you grabbed his shoulder it’d be as tough as the frozen layer beneath him.

“Push off with the side of the blades, like you’re drawing a ‘V’ with one foot at a time.”

“This isn’t your first time,” he noted, grumpy as he focused.

“I said our first time together,” you giggled, moving closer as some kids went by.

Megumi groaned, put off by how easy it was for the toddler. “This is stupid.”

“Woo! Go Megumi!” yelled Yuji across the rink. He was being pelted by makeshift snowballs from the piles of shaved ice Nobara had made in her a few laps.

Your boyfriend flushed, pulling his collar up higher. It didn’t hide his pink-tipped ears.

Snickering into your shoulder, you took a slow breath and grabbed his hands, pulling him off the wall and towards the center.

“There you go!” you praised, a bit clumsy going backwards but he was doing well pushing forwards. “You’ll be better than me in no time!”

“Where did your gloves go?”

You hummed, looking down at where his navy gloves brushed your chilled skin. “Oh, Nobara forgot hers so I lent them to her!”

“Dummy, here.”

“No, I’m fine! I don’t want your hands to be cold.”

He grumbled, tugging a glove off and shoving your hand in it. His naked one grabbed yours as he pushed off to skate by your side. He wobbled but stayed upright.

“There,” he said, squeezing your hand.

“Thanks, Megs,” you mumbled, squeezing back.

His ears were red as you made your ways towards your friends, but you saw his smile before he covered it with his collar.

[darklcy]

I know the aot headcanons u posted were written kind of a while ago but I’d be interested in any hcs u have about jean and Connie!!

☆ 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧! 𝐚𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐩𝐭 𝟐 ☆ | attack on titan masterlist

hey anon!! im glad you asked i actually have playlists for both of them if you're interested >:)

≫ jean

≫ connie

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍:

pining god. a yearner. a piner. the eyes chico they never lie

when he has a crush on someone, its obvious to everyone else 

he tries to be funny but he just looks sweaty. constantly staring at you but when you meet his eyes he blatantly looks away. 

ofc you don’t notice

When you two do get together, you had to be the one to ask him out.

he really tried his best, but when he approached you privately with his face looking like a tomato, you smiled and pecked his cheek, and he just about exploded

SIR PENTIOUS FROM HAZBIN. THATS BASICALLY JEAN

he is a sweetie tho :,) opens the door for you, hand on your lower back, puts himself between you and the street.

Whenever you compliment him hes the same as eren where he tries to act coy 

"pfft. nahh."

meanwhile his face is beet red

unironically into harry styles, 1975, arctic monkeys

gets really mad at iphone games like flappy bird lmfao

“I dont even like tiktok that much” (always scrolling through his fyp)

“Hey jean, can you pass me my phone?” “No,” while passing you your phone.

cheesy pick up lines like: “How are you, Jean?” “Better now that you’re here.” 

The trend of “whos your celebrity crush” cutting to “no one is more beautiful than my amazing partner” except hes serious

when he sees you trying to lift something heavy, he goes “here, i got it,” and takes it from you without asking.

Dont try to fight him either, he really, really insists

And i KNOW THIS MAN CAN COOOOOK. 

You wake up and hes making eggs or pancakes, whatever u want with a smile. UGHHH

Listens to music while he does it

More than a woman by the bee gees i know yall remember

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄:

simp.

simp simp simp simp

constant “DAYUUUUM”s from him

I dont think he’d have a confidence issue with flirting. If he likes someone hes straight up

“Hey, you’re really attractive. Can i take you out?”

he's direct and up front, but that adds to the appeal honestly

loves to ask questions about you, your life, your hobbies, wants to know every little detail about you

not really into people asking about his life, but he's not closed off either, so he’ll open up

Also has a vape LOL

I think he’d have one tattoo maybe behind his ear since his hair is buzzed, but only one

also one earring, a silver hoop

drives a car that has a loud engine because of course he does

I feel like hed drive a B&M or a dodge charger

anyways hes really sweet also

but just because yall are dating doesnt mean he wont be silly. he's constantly annoying you

“Babe what are you doing” “babe whats that” “babe how much longer”

pokes you. a lot

would jokingly burp and blow it in your face

“Eww, god connie.” “I’m just showing you my love, do you not want my affection?”

Rage gamer to the MAX

If anyone of you watch jake webber:

Hes in the kitchen streaming, while carrington his roommate can be heard screaming from the other room

YOU AND CONNIE FR

you love him <3