#I NEVER do anything the first time I watch something

[retrosabers]

𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝.

FICMAS DAY 5 - UNWRAPPING

A RETROSABERS X PANDAPETALS DOUBLE FEATURE

old man logan x fem!reader

summary: logan didn’t believe in exchanging christmas presents. so, you offer him something you know he can’t refuse. a night where’s he’s free to have you all to himself.

contains: 18+ content below the cut. MINORS DNI. making out, some dry humping if you squint, oral (fem receiving), implied age gap, a dash of angst, swearing

word count: 2.6k

a/n: you thought i’d let a whole season pass without a little taste of some festive smut? absolutely hilarious. this is my first time writing for old man logan, and i think i did pretty alright considering i have yet to watch the movie (i’m terrified of the pain it will bring)

any feedback is always greatly appreciated!

also, don’t be confused by the fact that this says day 5 when i still haven’t posted day 4, i’m writing these bad boys out of order

and finally, a huge shoutout & thanks to the wildly talented @pandapetals for agreeing to do a little collaboration! please go check out her blog and all of her amazing work! <3

FIND HER PART HERE

!! divider by @estrelinha-s !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

“are you sure your eyes are closed?”

logan grunts. “they’re closed, darlin’. promise.”

he’s been sitting here for almost fifteen minutes now, waiting for you to bring out this so-called “surprise.” from the ambient lighting and freshly washed bed sheets, the man thinks he’s got a general idea of what it is, but you’ve been fiddling in the bathroom too long for him to be certain.

still, he appeases you, and waits patiently at the foot of your bed. even if it’s a little bit uncomfortable on his knees.

meanwhile you’re fussing over every little detail of your appearance in the groggy bathroom mirror.

this was your solution to getting around logan’s “i don’t need anything for christmas” rule. you always begrudgingly abided by it, save for the box of cigars that always mysteriously turnt up in his nightstand on christmas eve. you knew he could never turn it down, no matter how much he tried.

logan could never say no to a smoke break with a nice pack of cubans. and he most certainly couldn’t say no to you.

that's how you decided upon this whole scheme. dolling yourself up and donning a new set of lingerie themed to the occasion, knowing logan had no leg to stand on. because technically, you didn’t buy anything for him. you bought this for you. he just so happened to be the person who was going to help take it off.

or rip it off, knowing your man’s track record of impatience and eagerness.

you share the exact same sentiment, though your tendency to be anile overpowers all else. you know it doesn’t matter if you have a hair or two out of place, or if your lips are slightly over lined. perfection never mattered to logan, but it still didn’t stop you from doing everything in your power to be pretty damn close to it tonight.

even if it meant making him wait a few extra minutes.

you pay your reflection one final glance before sauntering out into the bedroom.

he smells you before he hears you.

your scent wafting into the room captures his attention more than anything else. logan’s senses may not be as keen as they once were, but the fragrance of you was something utterly unmistakable. a sweet yet sultry aroma that he ached to have on his skin, his clothes, anywhere, to keep him grounded. to remind himself that you were real and you were his. it only adds to the anticipation building inside, the mere seconds he has to wait dragging on like hours in his mind.

a wave of lust overtakes you as logan comes into view. somehow just the sight of him is enough to send a bout of arousal down to your core.

that crisp white dress shirt he always wears is unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up to reveal those chiseled forearms you love to have wrapped around you. the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminates the weathered curves of his face so beautifully. a contrast to the ruggedness of his position; legs lazily spread wide and long, thick fingers tapping mindlessly against his thigh.

the picture of a real man. and he’s all yours for the taking.

the sound of your footsteps padding against the floor grows louder. obediently, logan’s eyes stay shut, despite the fact that the other aroma you carry is hot and heavy in his nostrils. his upper lip twitches with a knowing smirk.

so this is exactly what he had in mind.

on instinct, his thighs spread even further when he senses your approach, hands itching to find their place on you somehow. when your own stay glued to your sides, he takes that as his cue to do the same.

logan really hates to admit it, but there’s something about this little bit of mystery that’s got him going before you’ve even begun.

“you ready?” your voice comes out breathy, and if logan didn’t know any better he’d think you’re nervous. and truth be told, you were. not that logan wouldn’t get his kicks, you were certain of that. more so that you’d be unable to walk come tomorrow morning.

though neither of you would consider it a bad thing

“yes ma’am,” he grumbles in response, knowing exactly the effect it has on you. the cockiness on his face is inevitable when he hears your breath hitch.

tease. if that’s how he wants to play, you’re in for a long night.

with a quiet sigh, you splay your fingers over the expanse of his broad shoulders. the man takes it as permission, calloused palms wrapping around your calves and not daring to travel any further. he knows he’ll lose any remaining self control if he gets so much as an inch closer to the apex of your thighs.

“okay.” you murmur. “you can open your eyes.”

slowly, those dark irises begin to drink you in. his grip on you tightens as soon as he gets the whole picture, a visible tent forming in his dress slacks almost immediately.

logan thought you were the most beautiful women he’s ever seen under any conditions. didn’t matter if you were sick, if you were bare faced, none of that changed how otherworldly you looked in his eyes. but nothing, and i mean nothing, compared to the sight of you before him right now.

you look like something out of a dream. hair styled in a way that drives him particularly crazy, makeup done to highlight your features so elegantly in the dim light. the best, and quite possibly logan’s favorite part, however, is that your lips are painted a shade of red to perfectly match the ensemble adorning your body. it sparks a slideshow of rather lewd images in his brain, wanting the color scattered across his cheek, his chest, his cock. anywhere you’re willing to brand him.

he’s committed every inch of you to memory by now. countless nights of exploring, mapping out your curves with hand and tongue. and still, everytime he sees you like this, practically offering yourself on a silver platter, he can’t help but stare back as though this is the very first time.

especially when that crimson silk is accentuating your figure so nicely.

“do you like it?” you ask coyly, bottom lip tucked between your teeth like you’re not fully aware of the power you have over him.

logan scoffs out a laugh, dragging his hands higher and higher until they tug at your hips, pulling you to straddle his lap in one swift motion. you squeak at the sudden display of strength, forgetting that despite his age, he was still infinitely stronger than any man you’ve ever met.

even beneath the layers of fabric between you, the sheer size of him was impossible to ignore. fuck, and he wasn’t even fully hard. you bite back a moan at the outline of his length pressed between your legs.

“that answer your question?” he quips back lowly, smirking smugly.

you hum in content, pressing your hands further into his shoulders as you experimentally grind your hips. the pair of you preen at the contact, desperate for any form of relief after being pent up and waiting.

“careful,” logan grits out in warning. “gonna cum in my pants like a fuckin’ teenager if you keep that up.”

you tsk in response, cocking your head with faux concern. “can’t have that, now can we?”

logan shakes his head at your antics, eyes wandering back over your body once more. before tonight, his favorite set of lingerie you owned was a black lacy number. simple and classic. but the more time he spends inspecting what’s currently adorning your frame, the more he thinks that red might be his new favorite color.

something warm spills over him when he glances at your chest again. something different than what he normally experiences every time he catches a glimpse of your cleavage, anyways.

“is that a bow?” he questions, a little bit amused.

you let out a soft giggle, nodding in reply.

“wanted you to be able to unwrap your present.”

you can count the amount of times logan has laughed, really truly laughed, on one hand. and as much as it sounds like music to your ears, you’re rather confused as to why he’s laughing right now.

“what’s so funny?” you huff, brows knit together and bottom lip jutted in a near pout.

logan averts your inquiry, burying his face in your neck so you can’t see him grinning like an idiot. instead, he busies himself with dragging his lips up and down the column of your throat, reveling in the breathy moans spilling from your lips with each and every press against your skin.

from the moment you met logan howlett, you fantasized about that salt and pepper beard. longed to feel the delicious sting of scruff against every part of you. as addicting as it is, the sensation isn’t enough to keep you completely distracted.

“logan,” you whine, titling your head back to grant him more access. “m’serious.”

he doesn’t halt his ministrations, too consumed with making sure your neck is painted every shade of lavender under the sun. he only stops when you rake your fingers in his hair and physically pull him off, much to both your dismays.

you give him a look. that pursed lips, narrow eyed “what aren’t you saying to me” look that signals he’s going to have to fess up to whatever’s on his mind, or else the evening would be coming to an end right here and now. from the way he’s about to burst through the zipper on his dress slacks, you know he’s not considering weighing options.

logan sighs heavily. if you didn’t know all the variations of the sound, you’d think he was upset with you. but that was far from how the older man felt. he begins to examine your face, observing everything from the slopes of your bone structure, to the color of your irises. he studies your features like an artisan in a gallery, content on not missing a single detail.

after a moment, the corners of his mouth turn up a hair. eyes almost dopey; filled with a lovesickness he never thought could be possible.

“you’re somethin’ else, y’know that?” he murmurs into the air, rough fingertips tracing back and forth across your spine.

you speak the language of logan fluently, knowing exactly what the underlying message of his words were. in reality, he was saying, “what did i do in this life to deserve you? will you ever know how much i love you? i hope you’ll be mine for as long as you’ll have me.”

suddenly his round of laughter from before rings brighter in your ears.

instead of saying another word, you guide his face to yours, connecting your lips in a silent understanding.

logan always kisses you like a man starved, devouring you whole as though every kiss may be the last. there was nothing tame, or tender about the man they once called the wolverine, but you managed to slip between the cracks of his stony disposition, and bring forth all the parts of himself he swore he lost decades ago.

your hands encircle around the back of his neck, logan’s squeezing at the flesh of your hips. he pulls you impossibly closer, pressing the swell of your chest against his own. the feeling of your nipples pebbling through velvet fabric reminds him of the true nature of your current situation.

tonight was for him. his pleasure, his enjoyment. he knew you’d be heavily dissatisfied if he didn’t indulge in what you were offering.

and what kind of man would logan be, if he disappointed his sweet girl?

you’re not expecting him to be so gentle when he turns and flips you over, mouth never once leaving yours. a large hand spread across your back as he lowers you down onto the mattress with a care reserved for you and only you. a fact that adds to your current state of arousal. your legs open like second nature, and logan slots himself between them as though that’s where he was always meant to be.

the whine that leaves you when he pulls away would be embarrassing if it weren’t for the hunger in his stare. those normally hazel pupils now a brownish black that overshadowed bright white. he sits back on his haunches, glazing over your pretty little lingerie with a newfound appreciation.

he reaches to toy with the end of the bow tied snugly between your breasts, a teasing invitation that he graciously accepts.

at a tantalizing pace, he begins to unwrap his present, watching with lustful eyes as more and more skin becomes exposed. you arch your back the slightest bit to get the job done faster, the shoe of impatience now snug on your foot instead of his.

normally, logan would scold, spit something about “being a good girl and waiting.” but he’s just as riled up and eager as you are, and he gives the velvet one final tug that has your breasts springing free.

god you were absolute perfection.

he can’t resist running a thumb over your erect nipples, reveling in the way you squirm over such a small touch. your color coated lips swollen and shiny from his kisses. body already relaxed and pliant, willing to do whatever he so pleases.

a few minutes ago, he would’ve torn your outfit off without second thought and shown no mercy. let the shitty week he was having take control, guide him through the motions of achieving pleasure. but something inside logan urges him to be a little sentimental; take his sweet time on the off chance that he wakes up and discovers this was all a dream.

so he decides that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

the path down to your core was a familiar one, a route he knew like the back of his hand. sloppy, wet kisses trail down your stomach, a small crack in logan’s otherwise composed exterior. by the time he reaches the hem of your panties, tongue teasing beneath the waistband, you’re bursting at the seams with desire, unable to stop yourself from whimpering and bucking your hips upward.

“i gotcha honey,” he whispers against the inside of your thigh, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. “m’gonna take real good care of ya.”

logan knew you were soaked the second you walked into the room. didn’t need to see or feel it to know. still, he indulges his ego and stares proudly at the dark patch in the center of your underwear. knowing it was all his doing, that he was the only one who could get you like this.

when he pulls the fabric to the side and is met with your glistening folds, he can’t help the groan that rumbles in his chest.

“merry fuckin’ christmas to me,” he all but growls before diving right in.

it’s in moments like these where he wishes that photographic memory was his mutation, though he doubts he’ll ever forget this. his perfect girl, laid out so delicately beneath him, basking in the pale moonlight that seeped in between the curtains. his own personal utopia, paradise within the four walls of this rickety building you called home.

logan wonders if maybe he’s finally succumbed to the poison in his bones. because this sure does feel like heaven.

at the very least, it most definitely feels like christmas.

because having the privilege of watching you come undone was the gift that kept on giving all year round.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals @hextech-bros

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[thecutestmonkeygirl]

Sasuga did as he instructed and moved to kneel on the edge of the bed with her legs slightly apart so he could have access to her in whatever fashion he needed. He started winding the rope around her slender form and she found it was much softer than expected. It wasn’t rough or course as most ropes she’d dealt with through her life and she seemed to relax a bit more. She watched as his hands started to weave a pattern across her body. She’d never seen anything like this first hand and it was clear she was fascinated by it. At no time did she seem uncomfortable or as if she might be second guessing her request for this. As he seemed to come to an end she was looking down over herself and then smiled brightly up at him. “It’s soft, comfortable even, though…” she glanced back over her shoulder a bit and her tail had curled up her back again. “ I still feel sensitive around the base of my tail and the rope there is so close to…” she flushed ..”I’m not sure I could handle anything closer..” she whispered. “But I do want to see how it looks.” She agreed as she started to shift on the bed a bit to face the large mirror that had been brought in. As she spotted herself, her big blues widened a bit and her flush seemed to spread up her ears and down her neck. The way the rope was placed was clearly bringing attention to her breasts but aside from that she realized something. “You know..I think if I had something on under this, it would even be cute ta wear out to a club or something..”

Blood and Moonlight

Sasuga woke in what was at first an unfamiliar area but as she blinked fully awake she realized it was their closet that Coyote had decorated for them. She smiled and took a careful kiss from her mate who was still sound asleep next to her. It really had been an amazing night with the family and then with her husband. As she slipped from his arms, she took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers dancing over the fresh marks on her neck and hips. She couldn't have asked for anything more from the night and it was with some reluctance that she dressed. She picked out a pair of warm leggings and a short little skirt to pull over them with some knee high boots and a thick sweater. She slipped from the closet and moved to the bathroom to comb her hair and brush her teeth and get ready for the big day ahead. She gave a stretch and headed downstairs only to find a familiar face waiting for her. "Raphael..." she smiled and moved to greet him with a hug. "I see you are still alive." she smirked. "Want some tea? Coffee?"

@banditcoyote

[helen-with-an-a]

 Operation Christmas Kiss

Barça Femeni x Reader ; Keira Walsh x Reader

Description: The team come up with a plan to get Keira and R to confess before Christmas

Word Count: 3k

“So, what’s everyone doing for Christmas?” Alexia asked, taking a sip from her drink.

You sat back, watching the others as they told you their Christmas plans. Naturally, your eyes lingered on Keira. Keira … the girl you had been in love with for well over half your life.

You couldn’t help but smile as she laughed at something Aitana had said, her eyes sparkling. You sighed despite yourself. Keira … the girl had been your first kiss all those years ago. ‘Practice … for when we’re older’ you had said. It had been the Christmas camp for the Young Lionesses, and everyone was swapping stories of their first kisses, first loves, first times. You were barely sixteen, but the peer pressure had been a lot. You had made up some bullshit about a girl at school. You had confessed the truth to Keira that night. She had just smiled at you and offered to kiss you. Simple and just like that. Nothing too fancy, nothing crazy, just a friendly gesture. You ignored the butterflies then and you had continued to ignore them. Every brush of her hand against your skin when you partner up, every lingering hug or gentle touch as you moved around your small flat in perfect harmony.

“What about you, chica?” Patri asked, nudging you back to the table.

“Oh um, nothing really.” You smiled, taking a bite from the snacks on the table.

“Nothing?” Mapí repeated.

“Yeah, I’m not doing anything. My parents are-”

You started to explain how you didn’t do anything special at Christmas. You never had. You parents had been forced to go to Church and do all the family stuff when they were growing up and they had hated every minute of it. When they finally branched out on their own, Christmas was just a normal day. Sure, you always had a few presents and a nicer meal, but it was never the spectacle that it was for everyone else. Your parents had agreed to fly over to Barcelona this Christmas, arguing that it was about time they had a hot holiday. The best flights they could get was Christmas Day, and that suited you just fine. They would land around midday, and you would spend a few days with them, relishing in the quiet as the rest of the world gorged themselves on overpriced, dry meat they had spent far too long slaving away over in the kitchen. And then your parents would be off again, arguing that they didn’t want to ruin your New Years’ plans and that they would much rather be lounging on a pool bed in Tenerife rather than you cramped flat anyways.

“Do you not want to spend Christmas with them?” Pina asked quietly, her voice a little nervous.

“No, it’s not like th-” You could see the looks people were sharing. The sad pitying looks that meant they thought you didn’t spend Christmas with your family for a very different reason.

“It’s okay, amiga. We understand,” Marta smiled kindly.

“It’s not-” you tried again. You loved your parents, and they loved you. You had no issue with them, and as far as you were aware, they had no issues with you. You knew some others around the table had had issues with their parents, especially when they were teens and trying to figure out their sexuality. But for you, it was never like that. You had never actually ‘come out’ to your parents. You had just brought a girl home when you first moved to Manchester and introduced them to your new girlfriend. No one had batted an eye.

“Vamos, chica, I need el baño and then we shall get another drink, sí?” Ona asked, standing up from her seat, extending her hand to you.

“Uhh, sure … ok…” You let yourself get dragged away by Ona, unable to catch Keira’s eye.

“Ok, we need to do something for la niña. She cannot spend Christmas alone.” Mapí started, her eyes narrowing as she came up with her plan.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to do anything for Christmas, kjære?”

“That is absoluta mierda, Princesa.” Mapí dismissed Ingrid with a wave of her hand. “Everyone wants to do something for Christmas.” Ingrid sighed, shaking her head. She knew her girlfriend, if Mapí had a plan, the plan would be happening regardless of what anyone else said.

It took maybe 10 minutes for a plan to be concocted. A plan that Keira was not too happy about. She had tried, she had tried so hard to get the team to see that there really was no issues, no larger problem at hand that led you to not really ‘doing’ Christmas. You always had been like that. She didn’t do traditional Christmas herself – her family opting for an Indian instead. A habit they had picked up from you. You were 13 when you met, 14 when she had begged her parents to let her spend the holidays with you, and 15 when you spent your first Christmas at the Walsh household.

Her parents had fussed and stressed over the catering for months, you had both watched them bring up Christmas when you visited every school holiday. It had been a throwaway comment really, a joke that you would be happy with an Indian for all you cared. You could see the look they gave you, a curious, intrigued look. ‘Christmas is about family, right? You don’t have to add the stress on top of it. If you want to do a roast, go ahead, but we just do whatever we fancy. Last year it was a roast because Kei was with us, but usually it’s something way more chilled. I think we had picky bits once’. The look on Mrs Walsh’s face was one that you would remember forever. The look of pure and utter relief that someone else had said it. That you had said it. From that Christmas on, there was no more burned potatoes or overcooked turkey. There was an Indian takeaway, dished up with more pride than any carving had ever received.

“Guys, honestly, she doesn’t wan-’

“No, Keira. She needs this.” Mapí wasn’t having any of it.

“She really doesn-” Keira tried again, looking to Lucy for help. Lucy grinned, smiling into her glass as she shrugged.

“Kei,” You shouted, oblivious to the conversation going on at the table. You staggered slightly, flopping heavily onto the ginger’s lap. “Come dance?” You asked, the blush on both of your cheeks having nothing to do with the alcohol.

“I don’t dance, y’know this.” Keira laughed slightly, her arm automatically cradling your waist.

“Please, Kei.” You pulled out your infamous puppy dog eyes, ones you knew she was irresistible to. “For me?” You pouted ever-so-slightly.

“Ugh, fine.” Keira rolled her eyes, unable to help the smile that spread across her lips as you squealed with joy. “The things I do for you,” She grumbled, allowing herself to be pulled across the floor.

“When are they going to realise, they’re head over heels for each other?” Alexia asked, watching you loop your arms around Keira’s neck as her fingers danced with the waistband of your jeans.

“Who?” Vicky asked, trying to follow Alexia’s line of sight.

“Keira and Y/N, estúpida” Pina supplied, pointed to where you and Keira were very much in your own little bubble. The group watched as Keira said something to you, and you dropped your head onto her neck, all sporting smiles as Keira’s fingers traced gentle lines on the sliver of bare skin on your back.

“At least you get a break,” Lucy commented, bringing her arm around Ona’s shoulder. “It was like this at City too, and at camp.”

“Oh god. Do you remember that time when Y/N did her hamstring, and she wasn’t on England camp? It was maybe a week and all I heard from her was ‘Kei this’ and ‘Kei that’.” Ellie chimed in, rolling her eyes at the memory.

You had torn your hamstring a week or so before you were supposed to go away on an England camp. The suddenness of it all had meant you were even more mopey than you would have been normally. Yes, you missed playing, and yes, you weren’t a fan on the rehab. But doing it without Keira to keep your spirits up was too much to handle. She had been by your side from the moment you had sat down on the grass, your face contorting in pain. She had been subbed off a few moments after you and followed you down the tunnel. Keira had driven you home and stayed the night, doting on you hand and foot, acting as you butler, driver and bodyguard until she had to leave for St George’s Park.

When Ellie had picked you up the next morning, you were a vision of sadness. Your hair was sloppily tied up, the blue circles under your eyes more noticeable than ever before. Ellie had taken note of the small 24 printed on both your hoodie and shorts for the whole week.

“God, Kei was no better. ‘I wonder what Y/N’s doing right now?’, ‘Has anyone heard from Y/N?’, ‘I better text her, make sure she’s doing okay’, ‘Oh, sorry I can’t hang out with you, I’m facetiming Y/N’. It was nauseating,” Lucy huffed, taking a swig of her drink.

“Ok, we get it, they’re in love and have been for ages, they just need to get a grip and kiss each other.” Kika laughed, watching her two new friends press themselves closer and closer.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Aitana asked.

“Oh, Kei. I’m so in love with you it hurts.” Patri joked, her eyelids fluttering as you drapped herself over Cata.

“Oh, Y/N/N, me too. I’m just too in my head to do anything about it.” Cata joined in.

“I’m thinking we change our plan. Operation Get Y/N and Keira to Kiss at Christmas is a go.” Mapí turned to the table, bringing out her phone to take notes.

“We may need to shorten the name.” Caro chimed in, a small smile on her face.

“What are they planning?” You asked Keira, your face millimetres from hers.

“They want you to celebrate Christmas.” Keira smiled as you groaned, your head dropping onto her shoulder.

“I am celebrating Christmas, Mum and Dad are flying out on Christmas day.”

“I know that. You know that. They just don’t know that’s how you do Christmas.” Keira pressed a sneaky kiss to your temple. “They want you to spend Christmas with someone, you rescued me before that bit got figured out.”

“No,” you whined. “I love my Christmas plans. A chilled Christmas and then a very fun New Years’ with you.” You couldn’t help the blush that rose on your cheeks when you thought of your New Years’ plans.

“I know you do,” Keira laughed quietly, her cheeks sporting a similar blush. “And it’ll be our first New Years’ together.” You rolled your eyes.

“Stop phrasing it like that. We’ve spent a million New Years’ together.” You complained, shuffling closer, relishing in the feeling of her fingers against your skin.

“No, we haven’t. We have spent 13 together. But this we’ll be our first one as more than just friends.” Keira whispered into your ear.

It was a new development for you and Keira. One that had taken far too long to happen, but over a snowy hot chocolate at the Munich Christmas market when you had flown out to see Georgia, it had happened. It wasn’t really anything epic, nothing like a fairytale. Keira had told you how beautiful you looked, eyes reflecting the lights of the market. You had blushed and told her you thought she looked pretty too. She had pushed some hair off your face, and you were just inches from each other and then suddenly her lips were on yours and you hadn’t looked back since.

You had told your family but beyond that, you were relishing in the privacy of it all. The stolen kisses and quiet declarations were adding to the magic of it all. You knew you needed to tell the team soon, but you were having too much fun watching them moan and groan at each other. You were more than happy to keep it between you to, a perfect little secret to be shared at just the right time.

It was the last home game before the break when Mapí’s plan was finally able to come to light. She had everything planned to perfection. Aitana and Kika were still out on the field with Keira. Ellie and Lucy were signing things for fans and keeping a close eye on you. Alexia was the organiser, the go-between to make sure you would be walking down the tunnel at the same time. Cata was waiting by the locker room door, making sure that no one would stand in the way. Mapí, Patri and Pina were all in the locker room, placing mistletoe at strategic locations across the room. One above the doorway, one above each of your lockers, one by the entrance to the showers and the last one tucked safely next to Mapí’s things, a fail-safe she could wave above you if Plan A, B, C and D fell through.

It was the Man City game, the team knew they had ample time to prepare with how long you and Keira would stay out on the pitch catching up with old friends, but that didn’t help with the nerves. Mapí had even bribed one of the coaches to help. When Alexia gave the signal, a painstakingly crafted but natural movement of taking off her Captain’s armband, the coach would drift over to you, telling your group they needed to come inside for cool down and stretches. At the same time, Carla would beckon Keira over for some media and you would both meet at the top end of the tunnel, ready to walk past the rest of the team and straight into the locker room. Vicky had been chosen to point out the mistletoe if you hadn’t spotted it already. It had originally been Ingrid but that was met with a raised eyebrow and a shake of her head.

“Kjære, are you su-”

“Sí, Ingrid, I am more than sure. It will be un milagro de Navidad.” Mapí waved her girlfriend away, her eyes fixed excitedly on the door.

“- it’ll be nice. I’m glad that Lani and the other Aussies will be able to get back home quickly.” You chatted away to Keira, a City shirt adorning your top half as you pushed your way into the locker room. Pina not-so-subtly came to stand in front of you, stopping you in the doorway.

“You played really well, Chicas.” Pina smiled unnaturally at you.

“Uh, thanks?” You said slowly, although it came out more like a question.

“Sí, muy buen juego” Patri added, her eyes also a bit too wide. You looked towards Keira and back again, you eyes taking in the mistletoe dangling from the ceiling.

“Oh, mira eso. You are standing under muérdago. Ellie, what is muérdago en Inglés?” Vicky called, her voice superficially high.

“Mistletoe, Vicky. It is Mistletoe in English.”

“Ahh, sí. Y/N and Keira are standing under mistletoe.” Vicky’s acting was appalling. You glanced up anyway, smiling at the small spring resting above your heads. “Is the tradition the same in England as it is in España?” Vicky held her hands out in a comical shrug.

“You mean, whoever is caught under the mistletoe has to kiss, otherwise it is bad luck?” Ellie added, her acting equally awful.

“Ah, so it is the same.”

You looked over to Mapí, who was vibrating like a kid about to open their most anticipated present.

“Be … so, be … so, beso, beso, beso” Mapí began to chant, her voice carrying across the room.

You looked to Keira, smiling at her as the small blush bloomed across her cheeks. You shrugged, as if saying ‘I’m down if you are’. She nodded shyly, a smile matching yours. You shuffled a little closer, your hand coming to rest on her cheek.

You leaned in, the world around you fading into the background. Her breath hitched as your faces drew closer, her gaze briefly dropping to your lips before meeting your eyes again. The moment stretched, charged with anticipation, until finally, your lips met in a tender, lingering kiss.

The room exploded with applause, whoops, and whistles. Mapí was the loudest, clapping her hands and shouting, “Eso es! Así se hace!”

As you pulled back, Keira’s shy smile had turned into a full-blown grin, her eyes sparkling with a mix of nerves and exhilaration. “Well,” she said, laughing softly, “guess we’re lucky now.”

“Guess we are.” You stuck your tongue out at her as you moved away to the bathroom.

“So, how was your first kiss with the girl you’ve been in love with since you were 13?” Lucy asked, nudging Keira with her elbow.

“Oh, that wasn’t our first kiss,” Keira smiled up at her friend, her cheeks still lightly stained with pink.

Lucy blinked. “N-not your first kiss?” She spluttered.

“Oh no, I was her first kiss when we were like 16? I think. It was a youth camp, and everyone was saying about their first kiss and she said she hadn’t had one so I kissed her.”

“J-just like that? You kissed her? And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Why would I, Luce? It’s not that deep.” Keira laughed, enjoying the look on Lucy’s face.

“Not … not that deep?” Lucy screeched. “Kei, you’ve been in love with her since you were 13, I have had to listen to you both whine and whine about it all and you’ve already kissed her? Keira, what the fuck?”

“Language, Lucia.” Keira teased, bending over to gather her stuff for the shower.

“H-have you kissed her since you were 16?” Lucy asked, trying to wrap her head around what was going on.

“Of course she has,” You chimed in, kissing Keira swiftly on the cheek. “It would be weird not to kiss your girlfriend.”

[covetyou]

solstice

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader  rating: Explicit (18+ only!)  warnings: smut (PiV), competency kink, grumpy/sunshine, he falls first, yearning, angst, almost enemies to lovers, Tommy being a little shit, no use of y/n, Jackson!Joel word count: 4k  summary: Three little words. Joel heard those same three words damn near every day for the last seven months. Most days, they were the only words you said to him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, you'd say them more than once. Other days, you didn't say anything to him at all. He liked those days least of all.

A/N: happy holidays @trulybetty! thank you for being so lovely about this being a little late. I was only going to go for one or two of your prompts for the @pedrostories secret santa, but then my brain went why not all of them, and now here we are. 

divider by @saradika-graphics

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Three little words.

"I got it."

Joel heard those same three words damn near every day for the last seven months. Most days, they were the only words you said to him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, you'd say them more than once. Other days, you didn't say anything to him at all. He liked those days the least.

You said other things too, of course. He heard you speak to other people. Not always nicely, but he heard you. You said more to him on occasion too. Out my way or put it down were some particular favorites, but none said more so than those three, tiny, little words.

I got it.

Because you did. He had never met a woman who had got it more than you. Strong, capable, and everything he ever tried to be. He watched every day how you'd got it. Climbing up ladders with tiles stacked on your shoulder, hauling wheelbarrows full of gravel, chopping wood in bitter wind and cold. You had it, and he watched, wanting it too.

The only problem was, he wasn't too sure what it was.

To begin with, it was the respect you commanded that he yearned for. He had that, once. Not here. Fuck, never here. The people here would barely look at him for the first few weeks. But you? They listened to you. If you said move they listened, even if it was with a roll of their eyes. If you told someone to fuck off to medical, they went without a grumble. They trusted you. Even if you weren't particularly generous with your smiles.

You were the exact opposite of what Joel was finding he had to be.

In Boston, people feared him, and that kept him, and Tess, safe. It was for the best. The people here feared him too, at first. Maybe even still now, if he was to be honest with himself, but he'd worked hard to change that. He met the mumbled good mornings with as much of a smile as he could muster. He went for drinks with his brother, made small talk with the locals even when he didn't want to. He tried to get into Maria's good graces, but never quite succeeded.

And he worked. With you mostly. Jackson didn't have much use for hired muscle or someone who could smuggle shit discreetly - not outside of the daily patrol shifts they wouldn't let him on yet, anyway - but they did have use for contractors. Plumbers, electricians, carpenters, anyone who was good at doing shit with their hands. Those were things that had value behind these walls and, luckily for him, that meant he had value too. For the first time in a long time, he meant something to people.

Just not to you.

As much as he smiled, and made small talk, and helped out fixing shit in this place that was now his home, he could never get through to you. He'd try to help you out, only to be knocked aside - sometimes literally. You barely looked at him. Spoke only when necessary. Once, you'd even told him to fuck off.

He did.

At first he took it all personally. He moped, and kept his sour mood hidden from his brother and Ellie. Then, he saw how you were with, well, just about everyone else, and that lessened the sting.

But, as time wore on, Joel saw other things too. Where at first you'd seemed rude and abrasive, he now saw the kindness and compassion you treated everyone with. If you told someone to go the fuck home, it wasn't because you wanted them gone it was because you wanted them rested. If you let people struggle, strike their thumbs with a badly aimed hit of a hammer, it was to help them learn. You never did let anyone make the same mistake twice. And, because of you, no one did.

It was with the waning of spring that his desire to be you changed into something different and entirely more confusing.

As the gardens and trees exploded in the frenzy of summer, you shed your layers. Literally, not figuratively. You still stayed firmly closed up as your jacket disappeared and made way for a shirt hung loosely about your shoulders. Then, even that found its way around your waist and Joel had to come face to face with the bare, strong expanse of your back while you worked in nothing but a tank top, the patch of sweat at the small of your back blooming while he watched.

It was for the best that he didn't think about what you looked like walking towards him during those relentlessly hot months, with nothing but a thin tank top pulled across your chest. It wasn't something he should think about in public, anyway. It was something he kept for late at night, when those three little words echoed around his head and you showed him just how much you really, truly got it.

By October, Tommy had caught on. Your jacket was fastened back around you, and you were as hostile as ever. You breezed past him one morning, hooking a ladder over one shoulder, toolbag gripped in your other hand.

"I got it."

By now, Joel knew you did.

By now, he wanted to come with you anyway.

So he did, grabbing his own set of salvaged tools and heading up to the latest reno with you, only to have you square up to him the second you saw him.

"I said, I got it."

Five words. It was a good day.

So good, that he couldn't keep his eyes off you in the Tipsy Bison that night. You weren't in here often - from what he could tell, you didn't do much outside of work - but the people who shared your company seemed to enjoy it. You sat soft and quiet in the corner, listening in to their conversation more often than you contributed. But, when you did, they laughed, and Joel caught himself smiling, and Tommy caught him too.

"Never thought you'd be more of a ray of fuckin' sunshine than anyone else, but there's a first for everythin', I guess," he'd said, tilting his glass to the table in the corner where you sat. 

Joel took a swig of the last fresh cider of the season and shrugged.

"You got an eye for her."  

He sputtered, choking on the tart, sweet liquid. "No I ain't."

"Well you got somethin'," said Tommy, clinking his glass against Joel's own. "If it ain't an eye it's your-" 

A harsh kick, and a grunt loud enough to turn every head in the bar later, and Tommy dropped it entirely.

For about a week.

Tommy ribbed him at dinner, drinks, lunch and just about every time in between. Called Joel 'Sunshine' even as he scowled. Asked about his girl as if you were anything other than a person who hated him. Slung his arm around Joel's shoulder and told him all about the birds and the bees, as if he'd ever forgotten.

He couldn't forget. Not with you running around barking at him and keeping him in a seemingly permanent state of arousal. If it wasn't your voice and that angry way you talked at him, it was just about anything else. He couldn't escape it.

It was how you did everything he could do, and more. What he had in strength, you had in technique. Your hands - fuck, did he watch your hands - were rarely unblemished with dirt or scrapes, but they were adept at everything you put them to. He couldn't look away, even if he knew each minute he looked was a minute quicker he'd be when he touched himself to the thought of you later that night.

The taunts stopped with the first snowfall.

"If you're really that interested, should talk to her," Tommy said instead. "Bark's worse than her bite."

"You're still sayin' she bites, though."

"Sure she would if you asked nice enough, brother."

Joel didn't ask.

He didn't ask the morning he woke up early to see the town blanketed in thick snow either. He simply went out, picked up a snow shovel and began working until the sun came up. He didn't expect to find you at his door that evening, or for you to grab him and throw him outside, pushing him up against the side of his own house.

"What do you think you're playing at, Miller?" you growled up at him, pushing him firmly against the siding.

Joel stared, dumb-founded, your hands curled in the front of his shirt - touching him - and blinked down at you.

"I don't give a shit who you are or what you've done out there. I am not scared of you and I am not having you take my job."

You ignored him more after that. Days went by with barely a word to him - not even a scowl thrown his way if he made too much noise or offered to help someone out on a job.

As for him, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Every day for weeks that night played through his head, memory of the feel of your hands on his chest and your face so close he could feel your breath, until Christmas was on the horizon and a pit of fear began stirring in his stomach. You were a balm to it, somehow. Something to focus on when the fear got too much and kept him inside, away from the crowds of happy people.

Every single I got it was more of a comfort than the last. It could have been the familiarity of it, or the way those words came softer and softer as the season wore on. Sometimes he'd head by the workshop to ask if you needed a hand, just to hear that soft rejection one more time.

Until late one cold afternoon, it didn't come. You were alone, blowing warm air onto gloved hands, and when he asked you simply nodded, and he followed.

You worked together in silence until the sun set, when you turned to him as you parted ways.

"S'hard this time of year, but joy and grief can exist at the same time, y'know."

He didn't go to the Bison that night. Or the next. He let the grief crack open his chest instead, and let it pour out over his bedroom floor for two whole days.

On the third, he let the joy back in. Ellie reeled off new jokes from a book she found in the Jackson library. He held his nephew and rocked the teething babe to sleep. He went back to the Bison - you weren't there - and celebrated the impending holiday.

Seven months, three days, and about as many hourssince he stepped foot back in Jackson. Damn near every day he's heard those three little words, and he'll be damned if he goes another without them.

With the day as short as it could ever be, the sun tracking low in the sky, he finds you.

"I got it," you say softly, when he asks you that very same question he always does.

"I know."

He doesn't know how your lips end up on his - because it is you who kisses him. He doesn't know how his fingers find themselves under your shirt either, the coldness of them making you gasp into his mouth until you're pulling apart, both wide eyed.

He does know you taste like fruit, even in the dead of winter. He always suspected it - knew your sweet tooth by the berries you couldn't resist and the sweet treats gifted to you. He knows your fingers are as cold as his when you hand him a shovel.

He does know, even though you got it, you let him help anyway.

You clear streets and roofs of snow together until the sun goes down. He follows at your heel in the dark, cold biting through your layers as you both stomp the snow off your boots, shovels thrown down, workshop locked up. You barely even look at each other until you're staring through the fog of your own heavy breaths on Joel's front porch. He doesn't know how to welcome you in - he never was too good with words - so he simply unlocks the door and pushes it open.

You step inside.

Layers are shed before the door even closes. Heavy coats dumped on the couch, boots toed off and left this way and that. The hat on your head stuffed in a pocket - he can't remember which.

You move upstairs - worked on this house, you say - and pull him into his own bedroom before his lips even touch yours again. But when they do, they do. Joel's frantic with it, feeling the softness of you so close to the hardness of him. His hands hold your waist, rooting you to him, but then you're moving them up and under your shirt to the flair of your ribcage. The curve of your breasts fit perfectly against the cradle of his thumb and forefinger, and he thinks of everything his hands have done, this is what they were made for.

It must be. When you whine at the feel of this thumb stroking across your pebbled nipple, he thinks for the first time in a long time that maybe his hands aren't so monstrous if they can pull such pretty noises from you.

In fact, the things they've done don't seem to matter at all when he gets to touch you, to pull sounds from you so sweet he'll be tasting you on his tongue all over again just from the memory of them. For all the harm these hands have done, they could never hurt you. You would never let them. You'd tear him apart first.

And he'd let you.

You swallow his groan when you palm his length over his jeans. He stiffens beneath your touch, warm and firm, and grinds into your hand. It's been so long since he's felt the touch of anyone other than himself. He could come just grinding himself against the firm press of your hand against him, if he thought about it too hard.

So he doesn't. He focuses instead on the soft plink plink plink as you run a nail up his ice cold zipper, the way you bite his lip, tangle your fingers in his hair.

He tries to take off his own belt, cold fingers fumbling against even colder metal, but you mumble I got it into his mouth, and his knees quiver.

You do. You always do.

His belt is pulled off and you're tugging him by the loops of his pants and pushing him against his own bed, the sheets still rumpled from the morning. You slip off your own and toss it to the side too, tangling it with his on his bedroom floor. Then, you're so very close to him again, his thigh between your legs as you nip and suckle on his bottom lip. He holds you close - one hand finding its way under your shirt again, cupping your breast fully this time, and the other pulling you firmly against his strong thigh.

You warm his thigh with the burning heat between your legs, grinding yourself against him, the seam of your jeans pulling tight against you. Moans you were pulling from him a moment ago are silenced by your own, your nails digging crescents into his arm as you burrow your face into his neck in an attempt to stifle them.

You're better than he ever dreamed. Softer. Warmer. Stronger. The sounds you make so much prettier than he ever thought. Those three little words so much sweeter within these walls than any other.

Even when you strip off layer after layer, it's better than he dreamed. Summer was barely a taste of you, he realises, when your shirt, your tank, your soft bra, all tumble to the floor and you climb onto the bed behind him.

You kick your jeans off, and he pulls his down too. He can't get his shirt off quick enough, the scars on his body forgotten as he strips bare for you as you watch, lust barely turning to curiousity as you take in the sight of his body.

"Come here," you tell him, and he obeys. You're softer with him when he lies beside you then. Grasping hands turn to gentle strokes, his own hands on your bare flesh mimicking your gentle movements across his skin.

When your hand trails down to his cock, squeezing once again when you feel him throb in your palm, he has to pinch his eyes closed and pretend he's anywhere but here.

"Been a long time," he says through gritted teeth. "Long, long time."

Me too, he thinks he hears you whisper before your lips latch to his again and his soft, worn boxers are slipped down his legs, kicked to the side, forgotten.

You don't look at him, and for that he's grateful. He's less grateful when you start to play with your own nipples and toy with the edge of your panties. He presses a kiss to your shoulder instead, hiding his face against you and breathing you in.

When he opens his eyes again, your panties are off, thighs spread, one hooked lazily over his own, the other stretched out on his sheets.

"Don't have to," you mumble, when he looks down at you, stunned look obvious on his face.

"I want to."

He touches you and you let him. His hands run all over your body, rough, calloused palms dragging across your soft belly, your hips, your thighs. He's dreamed of this, and still it's better than his wildest fantasies.

When your hand wraps around his bare cock, pumping his length once, twice, he thinks that's better than any fantasy too. You practically drag him by the cock, tugging gently to pull him towards you until he's kneeling between your thighs. You lazily stroke him, swiping precum across his tip and making him jerk in your grip. His own hands play with your thighs, massaging and squeezing them, drawing his fingers closer and closer to your apex.

Seven months, three days, and twenty-something hours since he stepped back into Jackson, he slips into you for the first time.

And, fuck, is it divine.

You're slick, and wet, his cock gliding across your skin before he pushes into you, and you both gasp.

He's slow. He trembles. His fingers make dents in your thighs as he grips them. You shuffle your hips, make yourself comfortable, and he holds steady while you adjust to the intrusion. Then, you pull him in, grabbing him by the neck to steal a kiss while he makes space for himself deep inside you, rocking each tentative inch into you until he's rooted inside.

You adjust - let the tenseness in your core release - and he barely holds on. And, just when he thinks he's got a hold of himself and begins fucking you in slow, languid movements, your hand moves and you say those three little words.

"I got it."

For the first ever time, he stops you. His hand pins yours to your hip, his movements stilling as you frown up at him, a threat on the tip of your tongue. So, he begs.

"Let me. Please."

And you do. He slowly swipes a spit slicked thumb against your clit, and watches as you melt into his sheets. By the look of you, the pure relief on your face, he thinks this could be the first time you've ever truly let go, and his ego soars.

It soars again when your legs tremble, rocking his thick cock in you as his thumb works slowly over your clit. You moan his name, and he groans too. He can't keep it back. It's the first time he's ever heard you say it, and he doesn't think it could sound better. Your eyes find his when you say his name again, testing him, only to pull another groan deep from his chest.

A small nod is all you give him as a sign you want more. His thumb moves quicker, popped into his mouth to taste you just for a moment before it swipes around your cunt where you grip him, and back up to your clit.

You come on him, face turned into his sheets, brow furrowed, mouth open as you moan and shake, trembling and pulsating on his cock as you come.

For you, he keeps going. Let's you ride out the waves, fluttering against him, as he barely holds back from the brink himself.

If this is all he gets - if you push him off and walk away now - it would be a good day, he thinks. But you don't. He doesn't even get chance to ask if you want him gone when you're pulling him down, kissing him, rocking your hips against him and murmuring against his throat for him to fuck you.

So, he does.

It feels sloppy, and awkward, his hips not quite knowing how to move any more as he snaps them against yours.

"Don't stop," you whisper to him with a scrape of your teeth against his shoulder. "Don't stop."

He's never been able to disobey you, he realizes. He's never had reason let alone want to. Even now, he does as he's told, keeps fucking forward into you, mattress squeaking and bed rocking as he finally, finally, finds his rhythm.

It's easy then. You spur him on, grip him tight, wrap your legs around his waist. He grunts, growls, can barely stop himself from panting, looking down at you and how you stare back at him and he thinks fuck, this is what it's like to be trusted by you.

With a sudden gasp, he pulls out, slipping from your wet heat to rut against your sopping cunt until he's spurting ropes of come against your mound and belly.

He apologizes, tries to admonish himself for being so quick. You tell him to shut up, hitting his shoulder. He does.

You both sigh in the afterglow. Even in the before, he never had times like this, he doesn't think. It was always frantic, too quick, too drunk, too fumbling. In the after, he could never quite relax enough to enjoy it fully. In the now, it's just about the best he's ever had.

You're still covered in him. Your fingers play idly in it on your belly, and he glows. He'd trace patterns with it over your skin, if only you'd let him. But then, you're up and gone, and he fears you're gone for good until you waltz back in and throw yourself next to him, mess cleaned from your skin as you stretch and yawn beside him.

"I aint tryin' to take your job, y'know," Joel tells you some time later, when the afterglow wanes and sleep pulls at him.

"Right."

He looks to you, the roll of your eyes and tug of a disbelieving smile on your lips visible in the glow of the bedside lamp.

"I promise. I'm just tryin' to... be some place."

You're still. And silent. He thinks he's fucked up for all of one second, until you're smiling sadly up at the ceiling.

"I get that," you say softly. "This is a nice place to be, all things considered."

And, though he thinks he knows what you mean, Yes, he thinks, this is a nice place to be.

This is a good day.

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[haologram]

stairway to the stars ☆ l.jh [m]

⤷ part of 'a very seventeen christmas' secret santa event! synopsis: your husband has always been supportive of your dreams - from the sidelines. he stays to himself, he keeps his mouth shut. it's you that can't stop running yours when your co-star is all over him. genre: established relationship au, tiny bit of angst, fluff, smut? pairing: husband!lee jihoon x actress!fem!reader word count: 1.5k...it pained me to stop it here. rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: mentions of jealousy, ideation of infidelity, general relationship dynamics. clit play, kissing, in the backseat...you know the vibes. what to listen to: stargirl interlude - the weeknd, lana del rey ; never lose me - flo milli ; the boy is mine - monica, brandy. author's note: hi baby @monamipencil ♡ i hope you enjoy my little segment for you! i did 1000% pull this out of thin air but please let me know if there is ever anything else i can write for you. much love from your secret santa. ♡

"Don't forget about me, sweetheart." It was one of the few phrases your husband burned in your brain when your career really started taking off. He'd only been your boyfriend then, trying his hardest to prove himself worthy of your affections and time. You promised you wouldn't, over shared bottles of heady Cabernet and stolen kisses. The following years proved most difficult – from fighting over not spending enough time together because of your jobs, to vacationing for months on end without repercussions – you were rising to the top way too fast for him to wrap his head around it.

But never once did his love, loyalty, or respect for you falter. He watched quietly from the sidelines, silently supportive of all your endeavors. He'd grimace inwardly a bit if your lipstick stained anyone else's lips on the big screen, he'd clear his throat one too many times if you shed any tears during a scene. He held your waist at events, a silent reminder that your ascend up the stairway to the stars was in good company.

When you finally got a bit of time for yourself, he made it his priority to become someone more permanent in your life. With eyes that never strayed and a heart that only beat for you, he proposed softly as the two of you took a midnight stroll for the first time in a long time. He apologized for not making it something grand, promising your wedding would be to die for and he'd pull every string possible to give you the honeymoon of your dreams – only for you to stop his rambling with a teary kiss to his lips. Telling your friends the news of the proposal was an exciting feat, until it fell on the ears of multiple of your co-stars. You hadn't ever even spoken of a boyfriend (you had, they just didn't remember), and a few of the men you'd worked with questioned the validity of your engagement, of your relationship – and it eventually got back to Jihoon. Whispers of the startup CEO dating an actress filled his office, side-eyed glances made him uneasy in his own skin and he hated it – he hated that people wouldn't mind their own business.

Needless to say, it pissed him off. He'd never been openly possessive, but a part of him knew that neither of you had an issue understanding where you stood in each other's lives. From dating, to girlfriend, to wife – you'd always been open about who Jihoon was to you and what his presence meant. You never shied away from answering his questions if any, and you proudly presented him as your significant other if he managed to attend any of your events. This alone was enough for the two of you to realize that people in your industry didn't take relationships too seriously, and enough for you to hard-launch your relationship by posting your wedding photos on social media.

The industry did not like that, but you didn't care. You and your agent continued to book role after role, your husband continuing to grow his business and make a name for himself in the world of music production…a stepping stone for him, and the first moment of blood-boiling jealousy you'd ever experienced at the side of Lee Jihoon.

Her hand was on his shoulder as they spoke music, and he swiftly moved out of her grasp, sure. The dance floor was full of couples, a dance floor you'd intended to whisk him onto after reapplying your lipstick in the washroom. Someone Like You by Van Morrison played as you stood a few feet away, your face contorted in a fit of envy as you saw your husband push her hand away, the words I'm married, please don't touch me falling from his lips. The woman grimaced – the same woman you'd starred alongside for three seasons of the very same show you were all celebrating a renewal for tonight – and she shrugged her shoulders, before the dreaded words fell from her own red lips.

"So? She doesn't have to know."

Jihoon looked taken aback, and it was almost like he was a moth drawn to a flame – his eyes landed on you, and the way your jaw was tight with anger as you made your way over.

"Soyoung, nice to see you. Did you lose something here, dearest?" You speak softly, staring at your co-star with eyes of fire. She gave you a sleazy smirk, shaking her head. "Not at all, Y/N. Enjoying the party?" "It's lovely, isn't it? Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm feeling a bit under the weather." You gave her a tight smile, your hand wrapping around Jihoon's wrist watch as you pulled him away. He'd never seen you in such a state, eager to get him out of the venue and into the backseat of the black car waiting for you. Your arms were crossed as you sat facing away from him, before he made eye contact with the driver. He raised his brow, and the driver nodded, swiftly raising the partition as Jihoon turned to face you.

"Something bothering you, sweetheart?" He saw the way your shoulders tensed under the wine red straps of your dress, your legs crossed at the knee baring the skin of your thigh under the slit of the skirt. You gave him a glance through the corner of your eye, your lip jutted out in a pout as he cooed at you, making you huff in embarrassment.

"I don't like her." You mutter, "I don't like what she said and I don't like how she was all over you. She's literally my co-star. She knows we're married." "As much as I like your little pout and think you're adorable, I don't like that you're upset. You know I'd never wrong you, especially not like that." He tilts his head at you, making you pinch the bridge of your nose. "I know, Ji. I know." He's not satisfied with your answer, his hand reaching over to graze your knee, biting back his smile at the way your shoulders lose their tension at his touch. Your jaw remains tight, shaking your head in disbelief. "We've been co-stars for three years. You'd think she'd have some fucking respect for me." You were always so calm and collected, never too outwardly expressive of your disdain for people or their actions. He feels almost guilty for the growing tightness in his pants as you click your tongue, facing him as his fingers trace circles into your skin. "You're literally my husband. That's how I introduced you. My husband, Jihoon. Not Lee Jihoon, not the CEO of Ruby Productions, my husband. She's so shameless, I almost pity her." You tongue your cheek with a humorless laugh, and he can't help but feel his cheeks heat at the visual. He's silent as you run a hand through your hair, your earrings swinging as you shake your head again, giving him a pitiful smile.

"I'm sorry, I know this is out of character." You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. He nods, shifting slightly as your hand splays across his thigh. You press a kiss to his cheek, stamping your lipstick on his pale skin when you notice the flush on his cheeks. He clears his throat as you stare at him, a look of disbelief glossing over your eyes as you gape at him.

"You liked it?" "In my defense, you're hot when you're mad." He scoffs embarrassedly, making you huff out a laugh. "Jihoon." "I'm sorry." He presses a kiss to your temple as you roll your eyes. "Are you?" "No." He smiles against your skin, and you feel your cheeks heat as he trails his lips down your neck. "I love you, sweetheart. Just you." "I know, Ji." You sigh, feeling a bit of heat pool in your lower belly as he nips at your shoulder with a hum. "I don't think you do. Maybe I should remind you." Your cheeks grow hot as he gently pulls your thigh over his, his teeth nipping at the shell of your ear as he snaps the waistband of your underwear against your hip. "Now you know how I feel. Everyone always has their hands all over you, like you're not spoken for." You shudder as he slips his fingers under the cotton fabric, smirking against your skin as your hand wraps around his watch. You bite down on your lip as his finger traces your clit, your nails barely digging into his wrist. "Ji, not here." Your body betrays your words, your grip on his wrist loosening as he pulls your thigh higher on his lap. "Why? Aren't you mine?" His voice is sultry as you shiver against him, slim fingers collecting your arousal while he nips at your ear.

"Yes, but-" "Oh, there's a but?" He slides a finger inside you easily, your words getting caught in your throat as you whimper. "Hoonie…" "Tell you what, pretty." He slips his hand out as the car slows to stop, the front of the hotel you're staying at coming into view. "We're going to go upstairs and you're gonna take this dress off for me, and I'll show you who the brightest star in my sky is. Go."

You nearly stumble as your husband walks out behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he bids the driver goodbye. You feel his teeth on your shoulder, his voice low as he speaks into your ear.

“And keep those heels on for me."

haologram © 2024 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[hurlingdown]

                     DRESS . . . TO IMPRESS ?

synopsis. in celebration of the most wonderful time of the year, the one piece men have prepared extra special gifts for you. zoro, law, luffy, ace.

tags. dom! reader, implied top! (gn) reader. christmas fluff, crossdressing, big muscly men in skimpy skirts, law in a nurse outfit, lingerie, heavy petting, dirty talk, kissing, horribly written crack (i inserted my humour into this), mentions of sex, fingering, cock-warming, rimming etc, don’t read this seriously, it gets progressively worse, spending the holiday season with them <3

a/n. this is my christmas gift to the one piece fandom. enjoy lol.

“merry christmas,” zoro grunted, and you felt a little dizzy from the overwhelming endorphin rush that went straight to your head and somewhere else. 

because this… this was something you would have never anticipated for a christmas gift. this was zoro you were talking about. the epitome of stoicism. had he been just… pretending all along? you would’ve expected something like an earring, maybe, to match his three. a love letter was simply out of the question… though a bouquet of poinsettias wouldn’t be over the top, if he had consulted nami in the first place. but this? this was just… breath-stealing. 

you watched as your lover rolled onto his stomach in his scanty outfit to show off the crystal pink plug that he had stuffed into his puffy rim, shooting you a coy glance over his shoulder. “well?” he hummed. “do you like it, babe?” 

“yeah,” you breathed out. “i love it. you look gorgeous. i think… i think i just fell in love with you all over again.”

he coughed, a blush rising to his cheeks, and yeah, this was something you were more familiar with—not the balmy heat shrouding your face, the dry crawl of your throat whenever you so simply looked at him, the hint of sweat building at your temples at the thought of doing nasty, sinful things to him. 

was he even real? were you dreaming? you better not be, because this was a meal you were going to spend your good time ravishing. 

“well, merry christmas to you, too,” you murmured lowly, climbing onto the bed after him, and he bit his lip with a shiver, raising his hips slightly to present you your christmas gift. you wasted no time in laying your hands on him, squeezing at the skin-tight fabric over his luscious thighs, giving his cushiony ass a small slap before smoothing over the warm ache. 

“gonna eat you out until you’re wet and sore, baby,” you told him, “and then i’m going to finger you while we binge watch shitty christmas movies together on the couch.” you licked your lips, pretending to think about what you were going to say next. “actually... might as well have you cockwarm me while we’re at it. and once we’re done with that, i’m gonna put it in your slutty hole and fuck you ‘til you start crying, okay?” 

“and after that too,” zoro mumbled, shifting onto his back and pulling you down for a soft, wet kiss that sent butterflies roaring in your stomach. 

TRAFALGAR LAW

“traf, sweetheart, have you seen my—oh.” 

“get. out.” 

“what are you wearing…?” 

“are you deaf? i said get out!” 

“hold on, okay? it’s not like i haven’t seen you naked before! just… is that a nurse uniform?”

but this was different from being naked. this was far more embarrassing. law looked at you with narrowed eyes, tone sharp with accusation that bordered on hurt. “what? you don’t like it?” he nervously bit his lip, pulling down his skirt and squeezing his legs together as though it would hide the very obviously aroused state of his crotch. 

“i do! how could i not? you haven’t even let me say anything yet!” you swallowed, feeling saliva seep into your mouth at the erotic sight before you. “you look so fucking hot, you have no idea. i love it, traf. i love it so much—” 

“okay, okay, i get it.” he huffed with feigned irritation, a small breath of relief escaping him as he shyly glanced at the floor, hands still clutching at the fabric of his dress. “m-merry christmas.” 

you took a few tentative steps forward until you stopped in front of him, and he frowned and turned away, heat rising to his cheeks. “don’t look at me like that. it wasn’t my idea, just so you know…” he swallowed when you put your hands on his bony hips and squeezed, subtly exploring the rest of his outfit with your eyes, and he sighed, relaxing a little. “hey, say something…” 

“sorry,” you chuckled, meeting his gaze again. “you’re just… beautiful. i love you. i love the fit. it looks so good on you… thank you for the christmas gift, love.” 

“and where’s mine?” he said, attempting to distract you from the deep flush on his cheeks. he slung his arms loosely around your neck, giving you an almost pouty look, to which your heart clenched at. “... don’t tell me you didn’t bring me one.” 

“oh, but i did.”

. . . you swore you tried so hard. but you could feel it creeping up on you, like a silhouette, surreptitiously tugging at the corners of your lips. fuck it. you just couldn’t hold back your smirk. you thought you were just absolutely brilliant, coming up with this idea of a gift. you knew he would love it. you just knew. 

“eyes on me, baby.”

maintaining sensual eye contact with him, you gently laced your fingers with his, pressing each of his knuckles to your lips in tender kisses. then, with a gentle smile, you guided his hand down, slowly, slowly, until it was fully pressed against the front of your trousers, right where the zipper was. you nudged your hips towards the cup of his palm, faking a moan.

“there’s your gift,” you murmured seductively, and watched giddily as his golden eyes widened in shock and arousal before a sharp, splitting pain on the side of your face knocked you out. 

“pervert!”

you laughed victoriously as you went down. like he wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black with that cute little outfit of his.

MONKEY D. LUFFY

“merry christmas!” you heard a deafening guffaw before something crash-tackled you from behind, and you fell onto the floor in a heap of rubbery limbs. 

“luffy!” you choked out a laugh as your lover wrapped himself around your ribs, still unwilling to let go. “baby, i can’t breathe.” 

“oh. sorry!” he retracted his arms and legs, getting off you with a spring. you sat up, and that’s when you saw what he was wearing. a cute christmas skirt and matching leggings, and he looked so ridiculously adorable you had to do a double take. he frowned at your flabbergasted expression, leaning in to inspect your face. “huh? did i break you? i promise, i didn’t mean to hit you that hard! wait, why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” 

he pat your head, as though that would fix things. you squinted at his carefree smile. hold on. what the absolute shit. was that lipstick? 

“luff,” you took a deep breath, trying to steady your heartbeat. “who dressed you up?” 

“nami, duh,” he sung, giving you a little twirl to show off the fit. you already knew the answer—you just had to double confirm. crap. just how much money did you owe her now? a thousand berri? two thousand? to be fair, for this quality of work, you’d pay her a fortune. “nami said you’d like it. well? d’you?” 

“yeah,” you murmured, half in awe, half in devastation, because this was a really bad time to get horny if luffy wasn’t in the mood. “you look really pretty, baby. i love it a lot.” you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will away the horny. but it was just so hard to stop being horny all of a sudden. every time you closed your eyes, all you could envision was the horny: him in that skimpy christmas skirt, a bright flush on his cheeks, sprawled out on the bed underneath you… 

the soft press of lips against your cheek made your eyes shoot open. “huh?” 

the red colour on his lips was now slightly smudged, and you raised your hand to gently touch your now stained cheek in realisation. “oh…” 

“you looked consti- constipated sittin’ there!” luffy explained, in a much louder voice than usual, a thick blush covering his face. “i had to, y’knoow, help you out… in case you were having a hard time…” 

and well, there goes your horny.

PORTGAS D. ACE

“darling! you’re home!” you watched as your lover clumsily hobbled out of the bathroom, swathed in the most colourful gift-wrapping paper you had ever seen from chest to heel. “merry christmas!” 

you blinked. were you seeing things? “ace, honey,” you started, slowly, with a laugh. “know that i’d love it either way, but… are you supposed to be my gift?” 

“well, yeah, sort of.” he grinned, trying to make his way over to you in awkward steps. he winked, keeping himself just out of arm’s reach when you tried to pull him into a kiss. “just watch. you might even be surprised.” 

he raised a finger mischievously, and you watched as the tip of it caught on fire. he continued smiling his infamous ‘up-to-no-good’ grin, carefully bringing the small flame near his clothed chest. you raised your eyebrows, unsure, because as much as he was immune to fire, the gift-wrapping probably wasn’t... and the furniture in your house definitely wasn’t. 

“watch…” ace stressed with a hush, dramatically pressing his blazing finger onto the wrapping paper, to which it burnt a hole right through, orange flames immediately clinging on to the circular edges, rapidly widening the puncture. soon, his entire so-called ‘outfit’ was on fire, and you were starting to get alarmed when an eye-catching dark red slowly emerged from the burgeoning flames, strapped right across his chest. 

you choked. was that… a bra? 

“ta-da!” he shouted, opening his arms in full display with what could only be described as pure mirth. “fireproof lingerie!” 

what the fuck. you stood there, gaping, unwilling to believe. the rest of the flames gradually died down, revealing a gorgeous pair of red lace lingerie that hugged his crotch and chest in all the perfect areas, showing off his muscled figure, broad in the shoulders but tight in the waist, with thick hips and strong thighs. you could feel yourself salivating post-shock. 

“baby, you look really, really sexy, but…” you began, swallowing down your laughter. “forget it. why am i even surprised at this point?” ace grinned, albeit a little more sheepish than usual, rubbing at the back of his neck as you checked him out unabashedly. “ah, damn it. you look like a whole feast. i’m going to have a hard time keeping my hands off you tonight…” 

“ain’t that the purpose,” ace purred, shooting you a naughty glance through his lashes. “come and get me, hot stuff. and hey, guess what? we won’t have to worry about me accidentally burning my clothes off this time.” 

and needless to say, the both of you had a very merry christmas that night, indeed.

masterlist!

MERRY CHRISTMAS! SORRY IF YOUR BONER DIED 💓🫶

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

come back. l Joel Miller

Summary: first steps together

Warnings:  +18, smut, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that), Ellie is mean to Joel

A/N: I guess I'm not done with them yet. Sorry!

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

Everything was getting out of control, or maybe that's how it was supposed to be. Maybe he had already forgotten what it was like to lose control over himself, to be carried away by the moment and emotions, when instincts take over you, when you're a little selfish. Now it was all happening at once and Joel felt like a hurricane was raging in his body.

Your lips tasted of sweet wine, he felt the curves of your body under his hands, your fingers were intertwined in his hair. And he felt amazing. 

You were sitting astride his lap. The dress you were wearing was rolled up enough so that Joel's hands had access to your thighs.

Holy shit! Everything he had closed so tightly years ago was now exploding with new force.

He invited you to dinner, to spend the evening as if the world outside the walls of Jackson hadn't gone crazy, and you were just two people close to each other. When you showed up at his door in that dress, Joel believed that this could really happen.

You looked different than usual. You were a little embarrassed, it had been years since you last wore something nice. Joel's reaction was also specific, he was totally surprised and had a hard time greeting you.

And now you were on this couch, and his tongue was deep in your throat. Big, strong hands squeezed your buttocks, and you moaned feeling the hard bulge in his jeans under you.

"Wait." he whispered, pulling away from your lips for a moment, his hair was already a total mess from your hands. "Are you sure you want this?"

"Joel..." you sighed, smiling. "Do you think I would wear a dress if I wasn't sure?"

You saw him swallow. The last parts of his brain were trying to fight something he wanted so badly. He saw your glazed eyes, swollen lips, you were breathing deeply and your chest was heaving gently.

"Don't you like me?" Your question tore him from his stream of thoughts.

He grabbed your hand and slid it between your bodies where his hard cock was trying to get out of his jeans. You smiled and bit your lower lip feeling the hard shape under your fingers.

"That's a nice compliment." you stated "Please, Joel... I've been thinking about you for so long. Don't make me wait."

"Were you thinking about me?" he asked and you nodded eagerly.

"I didn't want to tell you anything though. We were friends, partners. Besides, Ellie was with us. I didn't want to, I didn't want to say something that you wouldn't reciprocate, and I would ruin what we had."

"Fuck, darling." he sighed, with difficulty pulling your hand away from his crotch. Just a little more and he would have exploded into his jeans like a fucking teenager. "I- I thought about you too. So many times..."

"Did you touch yourself then?" he looked at you surprised. "Once, when you were on watch, I woke up and I think I heard you. I didn't want to disturb you, but then I heard my name and..."

Joel cleared his throat. "Yeah, I guess I did. It's embarrassing."

"It's sexy." you corrected him and kissed him hard so he would definitely believe your words. "Take me to your bed, Joel."

You didn't have to repeat it a second time.

Although Joel had seen you naked before, he had never seen you like this. His eyes took you all in. When the dress fell to the floor, his heart stopped for a moment, then started racing.

"What do you think?" you asked uncertainly.

He was unable to answer, his voice caught in his throat. Instead, his hands rested on your face and he kissed you hard. Your fingers unbuttoned his shirt and soon moved to his chest.

Joel couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him like this. Gently, with feeling. Your closeness and tenderness were peeling off layers of him, and it wasn't just about clothes. 

You stumbled backwards and your legs hit the edge of the bed. Joel slowly laid you down, and then his eyes moved over your entire body.

"Stunning." He said quietly, and you could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth.

He slowly unbuckled the belt on his jeans and slid them down, his dark eyes never leaving your face. Without a word, his hands reached for the edges of your panties and slid them too.

Your skin was already so sensitive that every touch of his was felt by you even more strongly. You had never felt anything like this before.

Joel climbed onto the bed and closed you between his broad shoulders. Your lips found each other again. The heat radiating from his body was overwhelming and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. You wanted to feel him next to you, on you, inside you, in every way possible.

Only him.

Kisses went down to your neck and cleavage, you moaned softly as he squeezed your breast.

"You're perfect..." he whispered "So fucking perfect..."

"Joel, please..." you moaned.

You needed anything to help you, to give you relief, from the growing arousal between your thighs. And he gave it to you. The same hand slid down your hip and found your hot center, you were already wet and slippery with desire.

"For me?" Joel smiled slyly, and you felt the heat creep up your neck.

"Please..."

The colossal fingers slid over your folds and soon you felt a pleasant pressure as they slid into your heated core.

"Fuck, baby..." Joel looked in awe where his fingers disappeared inside you "You wrap them so well. I can't wait to be inside you."

You couldn't answer. The feeling was overwhelming, you would never be able to give yourself something like that. Joel's fingers seemed to find all the spots in you that made your head spin. You gasped as his warm lips captured your nipple, sucking hard. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling it harder than you intended. You were so close...

"I'm holding you, baby girl." his warm breath on your sternum "Let it go."

He lightly bit your other breast, his fingers sliding in and out of you harder and harder and soon you were tightening your legs around his hand as the pleasure flooded your body.

"Fuuuuck!" you moaned, arching your back.

Joel had never seen you more beautiful. He wanted more. To see, to feel, to taste, to experience. With you. 

He slid down his boxers, and his hard, swollen cock appeared in full. Joel grabbed it at the base and rubbed your juices along its entire length.

"It's been a while." he said, noticing your gaze. "I can...fuck... I might not last long."

"I don't care, Joel." you said. "I want to feel you. This is enough for me. I want you to cum too."

The head of his cock brushed against your entrance. For a moment you felt anxiety whether he would fit, whether you would be enough for him, but then you felt him start to slide into you. Inch by inch. 

Your walls stretched and took him inside, your hands tightened around his strong shoulders. When Joel entered all the way, you both froze for a moment. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, breathing deeply.

"Fuck..." he sighed "I didn't expect this, give me a moment."

"Take as much as you need." You replied, stroking his shoulders. "You feel wonderful. You fill me completely."

After a short moment, his hips moved. He pulled out a little and pushed, as if to see if he could hold out. You pulled your legs up, and he tightened his grip on your thigh, then lifted his head and looked straight into your eyes. You didn't need words.

Joel's movements were steady, aimed straight at that spot he found inside you, that made you fall apart under his hands. He wanted to see it again, he wanted to feel you clenching around his cock now. Your panting mixed with the dirty sounds of skin slapping against skin, with how wet you were as he entered you at that steady pace.

You pulled his face to yours, kissing him hard. A hot tongue slipped between your lips and you moaned, but he silenced you well. He hit you harder, the air flew out of your lungs. Again and again. 

You woke up everything in him, between your thighs he could find fulfillment and redemption, he wanted it all, and you gave it to him with pleasure.

Another orgasm was building inside you incredibly fast.

"Joel..." you moaned.

He rested his arms on either side of you and didn't slow down. His eyes were black as night, he wanted to see you lose yourself in him again. He needed it.

"Give it to me again, baby. Don't hold back." he panted.

You didn't have a chance to answer. Another wave flooded your body and all your senses. Your eyes rolled back, you almost bit your lip. Joel didn't slow down, even though he was already close to the edge.

"Fuck!' he groaned loudly and pulled out of you.

His seed spurted onto your lower abdomen in hot streams. Although he was breathing deeply, he felt like he was constantly out of breath. He squeezed his eyelids shut trying to calm down. Only your delicate hand, which rested on his cheek, brought him back to life.

"Shit, baby..." he mumbled "I'll clean it up right away. I didn't think that... That was..."

You lifted yourself up and kissed him, and Joel returned the kiss with pleasure. You felt the smile that appeared on his lips and you smiled to yourself. 

This was it. This was the guy who was always there for you, who always gave you his arm as support, who shielded you with his body, who was there for you. He was everything.

His heart gave a strange throb when, going downstairs, he heard familiar chatter in the kitchen. Ellie was delighted with something and was telling you about something, and the pleasant smell of breakfast and coffee filled the house.

His clean shirt clung to his still damp body, and his hair was still wet, even though he had combed it back. When he woke up next to you in the morning, he couldn't help himself. You were still a bit sleepy when he slid into you, but you welcomed him with pleasure. 

It was slow, tender and gentle. He imagined mornings like this when he allowed his thoughts to be carefree for a moment. After everything, he pulled you into the shower, where his hands shamelessly explored your body. He didn't know the words to describe what he felt.

When he went down to the kitchen, Ellie's gaze immediately landed on him. A victorious smile appeared on her face.

"I see the evening was a success." she said, and seeing Joel frowned, she quickly added "Can you still do these things, old man?" 

You barely managed to stop yourself from bursting out laughing and were glad that you were standing with your back to Joel, making him coffee. Ellie was probably going to give him hell.

"That's none of your business, kid." Joel grumbled.

"I hope you're wrapping yourself up, because I'm not going to babysit your kids." she added. "You have to be a fucking responsible adult, Joel."

"Can you... Fuck!"

You quickly turned around and put the cup of coffee in front of him, giving him a gentle smile. Ellie looked at both of you and shook her head.

"I think I'll go now." she said, standing up and putting the last piece of toast in her mouth. "The atmosphere is getting stuffy."

"It's not getting stuffy at all." Joel replied, but she was already putting on her jacket.

"Wrap yourself up!"

"Ellie!"

The girl smiled at him widely, seeing that she hit all the soft spots and quickly gathered her things. Soon the front door slammed and her footsteps echoed on the porch.

"Don't be mad at her, she loves to tease you." you said seeing Joel roll his eyes "She was happy to see me here this morning."

"The house was empty without you, she wasn't the only one who missed your presence."

He walked up to you, his hands resting on your waist. You were wearing some of your old clothes and he wished it was yesterday's dress. You looked so good in it.

"I'm glad you stayed," he said.

"Me too." you replied stroking his cheek, he kissed the inside of your wrist tenderly and you smiled "Are you hungry? I made breakfast."

"Come back here." Joel interrupted you, a small wrinkle appearing between your eyebrows "Move back here. I don't want another morning without you, it was torture."

"Joel..." your lips lightly brushed his "Are you sure? Maybe we shouldn't..."

"I'm fucking sure. Listen, I've wasted a lot of time. I don't want to do this anymore. When you left..." he sighed as if he remembered something really bad "It wasn't just this house that was empty, you know."

"I felt the same way. I was hurt, but I couldn't stop thinking about you or Ellie. You're all I have."

"So come back to us. To me. Please..."

Your smile was the answer he needed. He leaned in, kissing you hard. That day, he felt like he was finally alive.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi

[ohsweetmiko]

daisuke headcannons

daisuke [mouthwashing] headcannons!

happy holidays everyone! hope this brings you some joy during this holiday season. remember you are loved, and that people look forward to you. <3

warnings: implied fem! reader contains sfw, as well as nsfw. please read with caution!

loves and reblogs appreciated ❤️

SFW

· even if you guys are only just friends, he is always the first one to say good morning to you.

· wants to be the first one to put a smile on your face, especially on your bad days.

· hates sharing food, will swat away any hand that even comes close to him. however, only for you he will let his guard down.

· is obsessed with matching jewelry, especially necklaces, earrings and rings. letting you switch out his earrings is a must.

· loves being the little spoon. he just wants to ramble about his day as you hold him close to your chest. it’s always the best part of his day, aside from seeing you!

· pet names would include: love, baby, ma, sweetie, sweetheart, sugar, sweetener, mommy

· is obsessed with your scent. would openly just take a whiff, which would make you giggle. whatever shampoo you use—he needs to know. he’d randomly ask you during a cuddle session “how do you smell so good?”

· is an absolute gentleman. we all know this. will always hold the door for you and pull out your chair with a smile.

· loves watching you as you do something your passionate about. he loves to see you happy and smiling.

· he never really gives effort into his looks, but when you guys go out—thrown out the window. he’s panicking like crazy hoping he’s not underdressed.

· lives for when you play with his hair, especially while cuddling. he loves how relaxing it is for both you and him, as you trail your hand through his brown locs. loves when you pull it too

NSFW

· like i said, is obsessed with your scent. it turns him on so bad—even when you don’t even mean to. you guys could just be cuddling and suddenly he gets all hot and bothered muttering “..you smell nice.”

· mommy kink definitely. should’ve been expected as he has some bad mommy issues. one day you guys were fucking and it must’ve just slipped out. he was so relieved when you said it was fine and that it actually turned you on—is now his #1 pet name when making love.

· poor baby, please praise him. he loves hearing that he’s pleasuring you and that it feels good. it makes him so happy when you whisper how well he’s doing and how proud of him you are.

· hear me out—switch, but leaning bottom, a lot. i feel he’d be the best soft dom if you just need to relax and want him to take control that day. however most of the time your topping from the bottom, haha.

· very vocal in bed. he’s loud in and out of bed! huge, and i mean huge whiner. loves to whimper, as well as to be muffled by you. loves to be muffled by your pussy and chest.

· i think all mouthwashing writers agree he’s the aftercare king. like he’ll prepare a warm, soothing bath for you both and give you a nice massage after. of course it ends with a relaxing cuddle session, as well !

· loves your chest. sucking, squeezing, licking, anything as long as he’s touching your chest. loves putting hickies, definitely some of the deepest ones here.

· loves marking you. it messes him up so bad. he just loves showing everyone he’s yours and you’re his. also wants you to look in the mirror and remember he loves you. loves when you exchange the favor as well,

· makes him so flustered when anyone points out ones he thought he hid, or ones on his partner and they put the pieces together and find out what happened last night. (especially if you guys keeps your relationship low profile.)

· overall, this man is a walking green flag. i literally love him so much he’s my baby 🥹❤️

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Reply All Author's Notes: After what feels like forever, the long awaited Gaz v Horangi chapter. Very different from the other ones, but trust I am finally cooking (maybe) Warnings: MDNI, Angst

A late night email from Laswell can never be good. And after reading one at 1am, Kyle can confirm it’s still not good. 

From: Laswell, Kate To: Price, John; Garrick, Kyle; etc… + more Cc: Keegan D. Russ; etc… + more Subject: Intelligence Officer in the Field

Intelligence officer in the field. You in the field. You in danger. 

Over Kyle’s dead body. If these weeks had shown Gaz anything, it’s that him and the boys don’t know how to protect you. Maybe once you’re officially on the team but now it’s better if you stay away from any risks. 

Therefore with a heavy heart, Kyle replies to Laswell’s email. He knows how much you wanted to go out in the field, prove your worth, but now is not the time. Now Kyle had to protect you. And to protect you meant making hard decisions. 

After sending a quick email to Laswell, expressing his weariness of bringing along a novice like yourself in the field, Kyle goes to sleep. It doesn’t come easy as the actions from the past few months come to haunt him but it eventually does. 

But unfortunately for him, his guilt still haunts him as he wakes up. His chest rests heavy, mind still tired from the shit sleep he had last night. Worst part is that he couldn’t even have a peaceful morning as his phone loses its mind. 

With the brightness way to high, Gaz starts to reads the multitude of messages polluting his phone. He doesn’t go far as one completely runs his blood cold. 

❤️❤️ - 6:34am Fuck you Kyle Garrick.

That wakes Gaz up. He keeps scrolling, looking for answers. 

MacTavish - 6:23am Jesus. and I thought lt was the heartless one Lieutenant 👻 - 6:05qm Garrick do you need an email tutorial or something?  John P - 1:56am Thanks for that. Just a question, did you have to send that email to everyone? 

Email… what the fuck are they on— no, no, NO. 

Kyle rushes to his emails and sees two, one from Sergeant Kim and the other from Laswell herself. He starts with Horangi’s email which was sent first before Laswell’s. 

From: Kim, Hong-jin  To: Laswell, Kate CC: Price, John; Russ, Keegan D.;… + more  Subject: RE: Intelligence Officer in the Field Laswell, I completely disagree with Garrick. I don’t know what unpreparedness he may be alluding to, but I have nothing but respect and confidence in the intelligence officer and their ability in the field.  I have only worked with them for a few weeks but those few weeks have shown me that they are nothing but exceptional in their work. I have no doubt that their presence in the field would not be a hinderance but only elevate our performance. If Garrick and anyone in the 141 is worried about their own ability in watching out for one of their own, I, Russ, or Nikto would be more than happy to keep an eye on them. We are more than capable of doing both our job and the 141’s.  - Sergeant Kim Hong-jin

And looking at the time stamp, Horangi sent that minutes after Gaz sent his what he thought private email. He quickly scrolls up to see Kate’s response. 

His throat tightens as his eyes scan Kate’s short but brutal email. 

From: Laswell, Kate To: All Subject: RE: Intelligence Officer in the Field All, Thank you for the input Sergeant Kim but I trust Sergeant Garrick’s judgement on this.  Maybe another time. Sincerely, Kate

Fuck.

Word Count: 586

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[katsu2ji]

mha boys + their fav thing to do with you (or for you) during the holiday season

a/n: it's my favorite time of the year <3 merry christmas to those who celebrate!! posting this on christmas eve, i hope everyone has the best day <3 ily!

izuku: baking christmas cookies

izuku makes the BEST deserts. his mother taught him when he was young and although he was reluctant to learn at first ("mom, i’m sorry but learning how to make the perfect pie is not my biggest concern right now..."), it's now a skill he's come to appreciate—especially when you're involved. one of his favorite things to do with you, at any point in the year but especially during christmas, is baking cookies—or rather, he's do most of the baking while you're sitting on the countertop watching him do so. there's christmas jazz playing through the space as you both talk about your days, laughing and making a mess that neither of you are too worried about cleaning in the moment. he gives you the spoons to lick when he's finished with them, smiling when you nod your approval of the taste. while they're in the oven, you two dance in the low kitchen light; it's not graceful, by any means, but it's silly and stupid and makes you both feel as though you're the only ones in the world. this warm, love filled kitchen on a cold winter's night, just for the two of you.

katsuki: decorating with you

katsuki would never admit it, but he takes his christmas decorating very seriously. he insists that if you're going to decorate for the holidays, you might as well make it look nice. you ask him to take down the christmas decorations from storage and while he pretends to find the task annoying, he actually is looking forward to doing this with you. he loves seeing how excited you get when he plugs in the lights on the tree and watch as they light up the dark living room, or how much you love the small task of switching out the normal pillows on the couch for the winter themed ones. his favorite part about it all, however, is putting up the ornaments; together you've collected a few over the years, some more heartfelt while others are silly inside jokes between the two of you. he teases you when you put one in a spot he doesn't agree with ("why the fuck did you put it there, that's ugly." "katsuki, no it's not!" "yes the hell it is, move it over here.") and you know it's all lighthearted as you laugh at the faces he makes about your "questionable" placements. this is all such a temporary thing, he knows—the decorations will only be up for about a month and a half, if that. but it's special for him. a time where he can forget about the rest of the world; where he only has to focus on you and your terrible (but endearing) tree decorating skills.

shoto: christmas shopping

when you two go out shopping together, he takes note of anything that you point out and like. later, he comes back after a patrol shift; he tells you he's picking up dinner, and while that's not a total lie and he is going to bring home something, he also needed to make time to pick up your gifts. he has never felt as though he's very good with words, but gifts he can do. and he never stops at one, of course—he makes sure you have a lot. he fills the space under the tree with them, all addressed to you; just when you think there couldn't be any more, you come home to find another two of three presents has been added. he starts his gift shopping earlier in the year, getting things here and there when he can. by december 1st, he's gotten pretty much everything he's been looking for, and he asks fuyumi and his mom to help him wrap them nicely for you (wrapping gifts is unfortunately NOT his strong suit). he's even particular about the wrapping paper he uses, not caring that it's more expensive than others on the market or that it's going to be ripped; these are gifts for you, for christ's sake. he's going to make sure that everything is perfect—that you have the best christmas, every christmas.

eijiro: walking out in the snow

eijiro loves the snow, and he loves the holiday season even more. he loves how magical everything is this time of year, how carefree life feels. when the first snowfall comes one evening, he's making sure both your puffer jacket and his is zipped up all the way and that you're nice and toasty, before practically running outside. you two go for a walk through the city, admiring the way the snow blankets everything around you and makes the world seem softer, lighter. when a breeze comes by, he huddles impossibly closer to you, grabbing your hands and holding them in his coat pocket to warm you up. you two stop at the windows of decorated shops, watching the little toy trains and miniature christmas towns on display in the stores. he looks at your reflection in the window and grins, happy and content, even as the frigid air makes him feel as though he wants to sit in a furnace. he loves moments like these. it's a simple and mundane thing, taking a walk, but something about doing it with you, in an atmosphere that looks as though you've both stepped right into a christmas town in a fairytale, makes him wish for a white christmas every year.

hanta: watching christmas movies

before he met you, hanta had never made it a point to watch christmas movies, really. now, however, it's his favorite tradition. he looks forward to the evenings when the two of you change into your matching christmas-themed pajama pants, having bought them just for the occasion. you go into the kitchen to make hot chocolate while he scrolls through the movie selection, attempting to put on the corniest, dumbest, most cliche hallmark holiday movie he can find. the whole time you both are cuddled on the couch, leaning against each other as you watch the movie together, making fun of the bad acting, the overdone movie tropes, and every other menial detail. you laugh at all the jokes he makes, all the small things he notices and points out to you. the first movie ends, and before either of you can stop yourselves, you've both fallen asleep together on the couch halfway through the third. it's a quiet night, the only sounds being the quiet noise of the still-playing movie and the soft snores of the two of you. when he wakes up first, he doesn't make any effort to wake you immediately, instead opting to watch you sleep peacefully against him. "this is what the holidays are about" he thought, as cheesy as it sounds. he didn't need anything more; he wasn't sure it could be any better than this.

katsu2ji © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything of the sort with my work! i work very hard and you simply do not have my permission.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 1

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1])

wow this is another difficult one to go through. okay. okay.

it's been 57 years since we saw agatha kill her mother and the salemites - agatha should now be around 74, 75. how many of those years has she spent with rio? even if they met right away, that is a comparatively short time considering their long lives (rio's especially) and the almost 300 years they stayed separated afterwards.

the first thing we notice about the scene: just how damn green it is.

the forest and the river - rio, nature, is everywhere.

we're not told why agatha is running, but the obvious answer is that she is running from rio. she's in her shift, she was probably in their bed in the little cabin in the woods going through labor. and then rio told her that nicky was going to be stillborn and, in typical agatha fashion, she bolted, she tried to buy time, to bargain, to outrun the inevitable. but nature is all around, engulfing her. trying to escape is futile.

I so appreciate how bloody this scene is but I can't watch it, it's too much. she's run as far as she could, but the baby is coming now. she bites on a lemon and pushes. no family, no coven, no midwife. the one person in her corner, rio, has betrayed her.

that shot of rio so small between the trees, and yet the same exact color as the leaves? both one tiny person and the very essence of nature everywhere? I've got chills.

rio has brought her orchid so you know how serious the situation is. and I believe the costume department called this a shepherdess outfit? she chose this gentle look to guide nicky's little innocent soul to the other side.

you need to look at plaza's acting closely in this scene because while agatha's pain is on full display, raw and open, rio is keeping her pain close to her chest, she has no other choice. she swallows, she shakes her head ever so slightly. agatha is shaking her head too, completely and utterly devastated.

Rio walks closer, strong determined steps that don't match how difficult she's finding it to speak. her face contracts with pain before she smooths it back in a neutral expression. she shrugs a little, so small and apologetic. remember how formidable she was with alice, how clear she made it look that there was no escape? she can't quite bring herself to do that here.

you know by now what it means when agatha clutches her chest like that. you've seen her poor heart.

she licks her lips, she straighten up, vicious, ready to go into battle, ready to bite and hurt and beg and do everything, everything in her power to save nicky. we get this scene at the very end, when we know agatha and rio and their dynamic so intimately, and it's so easy to read what's happening. agatha will never go down with dignity, she'll fight till her last breath.

rio gives the tiniest of nods, she takes a deep breath. she knows agatha so well, she didn't expect anything less. while agatha is all over the place, rio is so still. her eyes are huge, and there's one stubborn tear that she's not allowing to fall. this has always been their dynamic - agatha's pain is too overwhelming, it engulfs all, there's no containing it. rio has to be strong and wise for the two of them.

this is rio losing her wife and child in one tragic swoop. this is rio being cast as the villain that took nicky's life.

this is futile. we can't fight Death.

oh, but she will try. she's been trying since we've known her. since she killed that poor dog to see if wanda could do something about it.

Death makes her decision.

not only does the grim reaper refuses to reap a soul. for the first time in all of history, she actively uses her magic to stop someone from dying. it goes against everything she stands for, and it's ultimately useless, because not even the power of the greatest Green Witch can heal nicky, she can only delay the inevitable. but she does it anyway, because she loves agatha too much. even if she knows perfectly well that she's just lost her forever.

rio is apparently impassible, but look closer: her nostrils are flaring, her jaw is trembling. if rio can't kill, by logic she can't generate life either. not that she's not able to - she's not allowed to, because she needs to be impartial. because if she lets herself fall in love with someone, it might just happen that their child will be stillborn in 18th century nowhere, massachusetts and Death might not be able to be selfless and impartial about it.

and then bye bye, sacred balance.

who the fuck came up with this story? and made it about lesbians, too? was it you, jac? I don't know if I want to kiss you or scream at you.

agatha doesn't recognize the world-shattering decision, the unprecedented sacrifice rio has just made for her. she can only think about nicky. how much time has she won? a day? a month? ten years? not knowing is torture.

and look, this is agatha, selfish to her very core. but can you blame her? can you feel anything but infinite pity and understanding for her at this moment? who is even to blame here? agatha, a mother begging for her child's life? rio going against every law and everything she believes in to give her beloveds one fleeting moment of reprieve?

there is no one to blame, not even nature - it has no concept of tragedy. (now that I think about it, agatha is the only person in history who could ever made nature feel.)

you did it, agatha, you made Death go away. you made your choice. it's you and nicky now.

oh god, kathryn, don't make that face. it's too much.

I spoke no spell, I said no incantation, you were made from scratch. the utter beauty that is agatha, the witch killer, the master of spells and craft, creating a baby (almost) the old fashioned way - the magic of life that no spell could ever improve.

this is agatha claiming nicky as hers. not rio's, only hers. she sought to have him for arguably selfish but deeply human reasons: because she needed to prove her mother wrong. because she wanted someone who would love her unquestioningly, unconditionally. because she was so, so lonely, and rio alone couldn't fill the chasm in her heart. she wanted her coven to grow from two to three, but looks like it's coven two again: her whole happiness is once again tied to only one person.

the little feetsies!

this shot, dear lord. green leaves and water taking over.

this entry was a lot. I need a hug.

[goldfades]

could you write a fic with joe burrow where reader is a ballet dancer? i’m one myself and thought it would be cute to read 🎀🤍like maybe reader is getting ready for class and joe is all lovey dovey and infatuated with her skills or something along those lines😆🤍

this took such a long time cause i genuinely didn't know anything about ballerinas but i finally finished it! i hope you enjoy!

you’re standing in front of the mirror, tugging your hair into a sleek bun with a precision that feels second nature by now. the elastic snaps against your wrist, the rhythm of muscle memory guiding your fingers. the early morning light spills through the window, casting a pale pinkish glow on the hardwood floor of your apartment. your bag, stuffed with pointe shoes and an assortment of worn leotards, sits slumped against the door like a patient, silent companion.

you don’t hear him at first—too lost in the ritual of tying up your hair and mentally walking through the combinations you’ll be rehearsing later. plié, tendu, jeté. the words are as familiar as your own name. but then there’s the unmistakable creak of a floorboard, and you catch his reflection in the mirror, leaning lazily against the doorframe.

“how is it possible,” joe says, voice still gravelly with sleep, “that you look this graceful even when you’re just standing there?”

he’s in sweats, hair a mess, arms folded across his chest as he watches you like you’re some sort of masterpiece in motion. and maybe to him, you are. his lips twitch into that soft, lopsided smile—the one that never fails to disarm you, even after all this time.

you roll your eyes but can’t help the grin tugging at your lips. “you’re bias.”

“nope.” he steps further into the room, bare feet quiet against the wood. “just observant.”

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you finish securing the last stubborn strand of hair into place. joe has this way of making every little thing you do feel like an event worth documenting, like he’s quietly cataloging moments to replay in his mind later. it’s sweet, if not a little overwhelming at times.

“shouldn’t you be at practice or something?” you ask, reaching for your bag. you don’t turn to look at him, not yet but you can feel the warmth of his gaze like a second skin.

“shouldn’t you be at class?” he counters, stepping closer. his hands find your waist, gentle but deliberate and he spins you around to face him. you barely have time to protest before he’s looking at you like you hung the moon. “i’ve got time before meetings. figured i’d spend it wisely.”

“wisely, hm?” you tease, raising an eyebrow. but there’s no real bite to it, especially when his thumbs start tracing lazy circles against your hips. it’s maddening how easily he can undo you with the simplest of gestures.

he nods, his expression softening. “yep. watching you do what you do best is a pretty solid use of my morning.”

you blink up at him, momentarily disarmed. “joe, i’m literally just putting on shoes right now.”

“doesn’t matter,” he says, tilting his head like he’s considering something profound. “you make everything look... i don’t know. effortless. like you were made for it.”

heat blooms in your cheeks and you glance down at your feet in an attempt to compose yourself. his words always seem to hit a little too close to your heart, peeling back layers you’re not always sure you’re ready to expose. but joe has a way of doing that—of making you feel seen in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

“stop,” you mumble, though your voice lacks conviction.

“not a chance.” his voice is low now, teasing but tender and you feel his fingers brush a stray thread of your sweatshirt. he tugs at it absentmindedly, his touch lingering like he’s unwilling to let you go just yet.

you step back, needing a moment to collect yourself and crouch to dig through your bag. the familiar scent of worn fabric greets you as you pull out your shoes. they’re old, the satin fraying at the edges, but still serviceable. joe crouches beside you, his knees cracking as he lowers himself down.

“i’m not trying to embarrass you,” he says after a beat, his voice quieter now. “i just... i don’t think you realize how incredible you are. how much work you put into this. it’s—i don’t know, just amazing to watch.”

you glance at him, and there’s no trace of sarcasm or pretense in his expression. just honesty. it’s almost too much.

“you’re such a sap,” you say with a smile, trying to deflect, but the words come out softer than you intend.

he grins, completely unbothered by your deflection. “you love it.”

and god, you do. more than you probably should admit.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[maxdibert]

Well, I was going to be a minimally civilized person, but considering that you called me a TERF out of nowhere, when I haven’t mentioned anything related to gender issues, when I haven’t alluded to that topic at all, and you just pulled that out of thin air as a fallacious argument to try to discredit me from the very first paragraph—well, I’m going to be a bit of a bitch and choose violence.

First: idk what book this person read, but Snape's obsession with Lily was creepy to the extreme. That their friendship started by him all but stalking her and Petunia should have been red flag #1. I mean, sure, he was a traumatized kid without friends, but that doesn't absolve him of his continued obsession. He literally stood outside the Gryffindor common room, refusing to leave, until she came out to talk.

Are you saying that a nine-year-old boy watching other kids play is a creepy stalker? I suppose you, at eight or nine, would just jump right into groups of kids and start playing with them for no reason, but let me introduce you to the quintessential representation of an introverted child. Because yes, introverted kids exist, although to you, it seems all of them must be stalkers just because they don’t know how to introduce themselves to other kids and just stand there watching. That’s something normal for any introverted kid who wants to socialize but doesn’t know how.

Severus and Lily were friends, mutually so—not because he was following her around. Some of you really need to learn to deal with the canon of the books. They were friends before Hogwarts, and clearly, during their school years, the relationship weakened until it eventually ended. But during that time, there is absolutely no indication that Severus was following her around because it was a CONSENSUAL childhood friendship. Did he wait for her outside? Of course he did. I’m sorry your personal life is so pathetic that your friends always ignore you when you’ve had a disagreement, but in my circle, it’s quite common that when we argue, we even knock on each other’s doors if needed to talk it out and resolve it. So, I don’t know, girl—it seems like a pretty normal attitude to me, wanting to fix things after a fight. What doesn’t seem so normal to me is a guy coming up to me and saying that if I date him, he’ll stop bullying my friend, as James Potter did. Nor would it seem normal for a bunch of kids known for bullying and casting spells on others to have a magical GPS to track where everyone at school is going, like the Marauder's Map. That’s super stalker-ish and creepy as hell because you can see where everyone is and what they’re doing. But I guess in your psychotropic view of reality, that’s just some mega-fun thing, while a nine-year-old not knowing how to introduce himself to other kids is the devil reincarnated. Truly, you have a totally coherent and undistorted view of reality, honey.

And yeah, he did switch sides out of guilt. But he canonically didn't give a damn about Harry. If he was actually trying to protect the kid, he would have done more than bully and abuse (occlumency lessons anyone?) the kid. Teaching at Hogwarts was never about redemption. It was about staying out of Azkaban. (And Dumbledore's manipulation, but he's a whole 'nother can of worms)

And what does it matter? I mean, Harry doesn’t have to care. Again, these are moral assumptions you impose on the character just because you feel like it. I don’t give a damn if he cared about Harry or not; what matters to me is that he did his job effectively. What’s canon is that he spent seven years saving the ass of a kid who was constantly trying to get himself into trouble and who, along with his friends, was a constant headache. But thanks to Severus, they didn’t end up dead more than once, so whether or not he cared deep down about those kids doesn’t matter because what matters is that he did his job properly and kept them alive.

And well, I’m sorry if you don’t understand how sentencing works, but not all sentences involve going to prison. Community service is a type of sentence, for example, so maybe Severus didn’t go to Azkaban, but he paid his debt to society in full by serving Dumbledore for 16 years and then continuing his legacy even after his death. I don’t care if he was a bad teacher; that’s Dumbledore’s fault for putting him there at 21, with massive trauma, zero chances to heal emotionally, and an overwhelming workload. Good or bad teacher, he paid his debt to society, so sorry, but your whining is, once again, utter nonsense based on your ethical and moral expectations that don’t matter for presenting the facts.

Second: the books actually say that Snape was 'up to his nose in the dark arts'. He was an active participant. He didn't just 'hang out' with to-be-DE, he WAS one. He joined up of his own free will. He became Voldemort's RIGHT HAND. He didn't regret calling someone a mudbl***. He regretted that it was Lily.

It’s funny that you attack me, calling me a TERF, and two seconds later, you talk about Severus as if he’s pure evil incarnate without taking into account his context and how he perfectly fits the usual target demographic for far-right groups to recruit new members. How the fact that Severus came from a poor and extremely violent environment made him a perfect victim to fall under the influence of people who offered him a better life, recognition, and support, when outside of that environment, all he knew was not even having enough to buy clothes and being tormented by a couple of rich pure-blooded kids making his life miserable. And yes, girl, he called Lily a Mudblood, but honestly, Lily had been about to smile at her bully while that bully was sexually assaulting him, and he had just come out of a highly stressful situation. We all say things we don’t mean in moments like that because we act completely irrationally. Plus, Severus could also be considered a Mudblood, considering he was a half-blood with a Muggle father and had grown up in a Muggle neighborhood surrounded by Muggles, so it doesn’t seem like such a big deal to me, but whatever.

And Snape CANONICALLY attacked the marauders just as much as they went after him. Just because they went after him first in that ONE memory, doesn't mean he didn't instigate too.

I don’t know if you’re still drunk after Christmas Eve dinner or what, but the books never establish such a thing. That’s something Sirius says, who is a completely unreliable source because, at 36, he was still calling the guy he nearly killed by that shitty nickname. So, sorry if I don’t trust anything from a guy who showed zero remorse about being a disgusting bully, but what do you want me to tell you?

What is established in the books is that Severus and Lily were calmly talking on the train, and James Potter interrupted their conversation to make fun of Severus. What is established in the books is that Sirius committed attempted murder. And what is established in the books is that Severus was walking along minding his own business, and since Sirius Black was super bored and wanted it to be a full moon, his best friend James Potter decided to attack Severus Snape and humiliate him in front of the entire school. They attacked him two-on-one, outnumbering him. Not only that, but they were also two rich kids from upper-class pure-blood aristocratic families going after a half-blood, working-class kid who didn’t have a dime to his name and no parents to defend him. Ignoring the extreme inequality between Severus and his bullies shows a tremendous lack of social awareness and absolutely zero understanding of class dynamics. I’m surprised that some of you claim to be activists and call yourselves social justice warriors when you haven’t cracked open a book in your lives. If you had, you’d see how problematic it is to defend a couple of rich bullies over their poor victim. It’s absolutely classist and disgusting, and pretending they were on equal footing and it was just a rivalry is to completely ignore all the power imbalances inherent in relationships affected by pronounced social and economic disparities. James and Sirius were two abusive rich brats who constantly mocked a kid for his appearance, which was directly tied to his lack of financial resources. When they laughed at him in the school courtyard, they made direct references to the state of his underwear, which relates precisely to his economic and social condition. You’re defending a couple of classist jerks, and then you throw around buzzwords like "she must be a TERF." Well, I’ve never excused anyone’s transphobia—you should stop excusing classism because, in that sense, you resemble J.K. Rowling far more than I do, clown.

And let's talk about the werewolf incident for a minute because i am sick and tired of Snape Apologists using this as an excuse. That was NOT planned. That was a lapse of judgement on Sirius' part alone (yeah, fucked to hell and he is fully responsible for that). At the same time though, NO ONE MADE HIM GO. Snape was given a vague instruction and he was so focused on 'getting back' at the marauders that he put HIMSELF in danger. That is just as much on him as it is on Sirius.

Ah, there it is, the one who calls women TERFs but then engages in victim-blaming. Yes, it was planned—Sirius planned it. And it’s called attempted murder, which not only should have resulted in expulsion but in the real world would have landed Sirius in a juvenile detention center for a few months if the prosecution's lawyer had been good. But setting that aside, I really like how you say “nobody forced Severus to go,” blaming him for what happened. It reminds me of when I was almost raped in a nightclub a few years ago, and the security guard I told about it to catch the guy said something like, “Well, no one told you to make out with that guy, you know.” It’s exactly the same goddamn speech that any basic straight guy would give to a woman who’s been assaulted or nearly so, questioning her about how she was dressed, where she was, or how far things went with the man in question. A round of applause—besides being a classist jerk, you re-victimize abuse victims. You really have it all, my friend.

Then the sexual assault? This is another common thing I see and it took me forever to figure out what it was even referring to. The pantsing? You cannot tell me he was the only one that happened to. If the levitating spell was really as popular as it's stated, this incident wasn't special. I'm willing to bet Snape did it to others too.

I’d like you to imagine Severus as a girl for a moment, and James exposing her in front of the whole school in her underwear. Then I’d like you to picture her in her bra and panties and imagine James’s voice saying, “Should I take off her knickers?” And now I want you to tell me that’s not sexual assault. It’s incredible how Marauders stans try to come across as super progressive and woke, but you just can’t, because your entire personality is based on defending rich elitist kids. And, of course, the mask slips. I have to laugh because seriously, it’s pathetic.

Third: Lupin not taking the wolfsbane. Yes, serious lapse in judgement. He also just saw Peter and Sirius on the map. The argument of it being criminal and a ticking time bomb is honestly werewolf prejudice and exactly why Remus has such a hard time finding a job in the first place. Way to go. You've discovered discrimination.

And no, I don’t feel sorry at all for the bullying accomplice who grew up to be an irresponsible adult, ended up knocking up a 24-year-old at 38, and then bolted. As far as I’m concerned, Remus Lupin can go to hell a thousand times. But hey, no problem, let’s keep defending accomplices to abuse who treat their partners like garbage. Why not? Poor thing.

Fourth: Get McGonagall's name out of your fucking mouth. She is CANONICALLY shown NOT showing prejudice and treating EVERYONE by the same standards. And, did you forget that 'Moody' here was actually a death eater in disguise? No duh he's using cruel and unusual punishments??? Full of abusive teachers my ass.

I never said McGonagall didn’t treat people equally; I said she was quite a strict teacher, and that’s canon. Severus wasn’t the only teacher who talked to or treated students in questionable ways, and if it had been such a big deal, his colleagues would have called him out—which never happened.

Fifth: What do you mean the kids weren't scared for life? I do believe those CHILDREN will carry that trauma with them for the rest of their lives. Saying that it didn't break them is cruel and completely dismisses the VERY REAL pain and suffering that they went through. They are real heroes because they OVERCAME their trials. Not all of us out here in the real world are so lucky.

It’s funny how you’re so convinced that having a strict teacher will leave children permanently traumatized for life, clutching your pearls over the cognitive and psychological consequences that might result, yet you wrote an entire text tearing down a character who endured violence as a child, suffered intense bullying, and was abandoned by every adult around him. For you, suffering and pain only matter when it’s about tearing down a character you hate. You’re like a typical right-wing politician, only concerned about social issues when it’s time to crush the opponent. Quite hypocritical and double-standard behavior on your part, but then again, not much more can be expected from someone with zero class consciousness.

And saying Regulus accomplished nothing? Disgraceful. Of course it took a catalyst for him to change his ways thats how redemption arcs work.

Ehhhh no. Regulus was a rich kid like Draco Malfoy, thrilled to be a Death Eater. He joined because he genuinely believed he was superior to others due to his blood status and aristocratic family. But when faced with bloodshed, it overwhelmed him, and he backed out. He didn’t accomplish anything—he just acted foolishly, which delayed things for Harry years later. Funny how you see redemption in Regulus but not in Severus, who spent almost twenty years of his life paying his debt to society. Funny how you’re so lenient with Regulus, who’s described as handsome, wealthy, similar to his brother physically, coming from a privileged family, fitting the aesthetic of a mysterious, elegant guy that looks great on Pinterest boards. But you’re not so understanding with Severus, who came from abject poverty, is constantly described as ugly and unpleasant, and clearly lacks that smooth aura. I love it because people like you point fingers at others for things that are really just projections of your own internal prejudices.

If you made it this far, I hope you have a good day. Believe whatever you want, obvy I'm not going to change anyone's opinion. You can't MAKE a person understand. Still, it's nice to rant and remind myself how nice it is that I live in my own little corner of the fandom where I don't have to see this bullshit on my dash

If you’ve read this far, I wish you a Merry Christmas. I hope one day you’ll dignify yourself by opening a book on social politics or class dynamics. I hope one day you’ll bother to read statistics on how violence and economics interplay with predispositions to criminality. And I hope one day you’ll think twice before calling someone a TERF without reflecting on your own disgusting classism, beauty privilege tendencies, victim-blaming, and utter inability to analyze characters. Also, you might want to reconsider defending rich, privileged, abusive kids because it’s seriously cringe-worthy. Kisses.

okay, hold my drink *hands u cursed ancient goblet full of mead* i gotta talk my shit for a second.

ive been seeing a lot of severus snape love recently. and this is fine, obviously, y'all can love whomever you want. but. i need to rant or i will explode. if we're talking about canon. severus snape spends his adult years, seven books of it in fact, abusing children. and his excuse for this is the girl he loved (tho not enough not to join a group actively trying to exterminate her) fell for the hot jock instead of him (a tragedy indeed, i weep 4 him, i really do). and also she died, which, admittedly is very sad.

it is simply crazy 2 me 2 look at that and think *romance* or *genuine care and affection*. LIKE. fo real. snape calls her a slur in public, apologizes in private, hangs out with dudes who commit hate crimes against her friends (CANONICALLY, she says "you've been hanging out with that douchebag Mulciber, how could you do that after what he did to Mary???" this is not a direct quote but like, it's close enough). lame. loser behaviour.

"Oh but what about regulus" i can hear you say "he loves James potter but snape doesn't love lily???" well. idk. maybe. bit different tho, innit? due to james not being the demographic regulus is attacking (which doesn't make regulus a better person but does make the dynamic between him and james different). ALSO. Regulus chooses to turn against voldemort without hope for anything in return. snape doesn't seem to give a shit about voldemort, he's just sad he's not gonna get to bang lily evans. he switches sides for that reason alone. also doesn't care about what happens to her husband or her son which like. considering lily would be pretty fucking destroyed if they died. once again points to my whole, he doesn't really give a shit about her, theory. lame. loser. behaviour.

also. im sorry. I"M SORRY. but what snape does to neville? to hermione? to harry? gross. a grown ass man out here telling an eleven year old neville he's worthless or hermione she's ugly and annoying. or spilling harry's potion and refusing to grade him for it???????????????

reg and draco are children when we see them at peak suckage and therefore they feel like they can be redeemed much more compellingly (CAN be, not SHOULD be, not HAVE to be, just narratively i think they are easier to turn into interesting, sympathetic characters). but snape? snape grows up into a garbage adult. like he doesn't get better. and again, the only real excuse we're given is his obsession with lily. not very demure. not very cutesy.

ALSO. yall remember that time he got a destitute, struggling Remus Lupin fired from the best job he ever had just because he felt like it? remember that time snape weaponized Remus's lycanthropy and people's prejudice against him just cause. like. literally just cause??? his ego was bruised after the shrieking shack incident so he was like "get wrecked Lupin I'm going to tell everyone your secret so you will be forced back out onto the streets" DO YALL REMEMBER THAT BITCH ASS MOVE????????? THAT HE DID AS A FULL ADULT.

IN CONCLUSION, this is silly and, of course, like i said at the start, everyone can have their own thoughts and feelings about characters, but i simply needed to interject here on behalf of snape haters everywhere because i feel like so much of snape's shitty behaviour as an adult during a time when he was really under no duress and was very safe and cozy, is ignored. and my hater heart just cannot let that stand.

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 7 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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“Y/N?”

“Yeah, Sprout?” I say, looking up from my computer.

“What are we having for dinner?” Tara asks. She limps around the back of the couch with her crutches before leaning them against the coffee table and plopping down next to me.

“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “Thai food?”

She nods and rests her head on my shoulder, letting her eyes skim over the finance essay I’ve been working on. Because Christina Carpenter is still in London Tara’s staying with me until she comes back. At first she said it was to keep me company, but I know she’s just too scared to stay home alone since the last time she was alone she was attacked.

“Okay then, I’ll order something. Is there anything particular you want?” I ask, closing my laptop and pulling out my phone.

Tara shakes her head and grabs the remote next to me, turning on the TV.

“Alright.” I scroll through the options and choose two similar dishes and a side of spring rolls. I go to pay and order, but Tara stops me, turning down the volume of the TV and lifting her head off my shoulder.

“Wait.”

“What? Do you want something else after all? Pizza? Or sushi?”

“No, but you should order some Pad Thai,” she says, shifting nervously.

I chuckle softly, her sudden change in behavior going completely unnoticed. “You just said you didn’t care what I got you.”

I go to change her order, but she stops me by taking my phone away.

“It’s not for me,” she clarifies quietly which makes me raise my eyebrows and look at her expectantly. “It’s for Sam.”

I frown. “Sam? But she’s in Modesto?”

After giving our statements to the police and getting checked out at the hospital, Sam left immediately to pack up her life in Modesto. She promised Tara she’d return to Woodsboro for good as soon as she’d taken care of everything and I thought it would take her more than just three days to get everything in order since that’s how long she’s been gone for now, but apparently not.

“No, she called earlier while you were in the shower and said she was on her way back,” Tara clarifies, watching me nervously and waiting for my reaction.

“O-Okay,” I stammer. “So, you told her she could stop by for dinner?“

Sam and I haven’t talked about anything that happened yet. Not about Ghostface, her psychosis, or my feelings for her which Richie so graciously revealed to her, and not necessary just because we haven’t had the time to yet. No, I’m just not ready for it, but it seems like Tara thinks otherwise. Or she just doesn’t care, either way, Sam is on her way here now and a talk will be inevitable.

“Yes. . .” she says, hesitating slightly before going on. “And I may or may not have told her she could also stay with us until mom gets back.”

“What?!” I shriek, my eyes widening.

Tara shrinks in on herself, nodding, and to make matters even worse she adds, “And I also kind of told her it was your idea because she said she wouldn’t come if you didn’t want her to.“

My jaw drops and I blink in surprise, completely taken aback.

“So, just a heads up when she thanks you for inviting her, I guess,” she squeaks out, smiling sheepishly.

“Oh my God, Tara—“ I run my hand down my face and groan, “—I don’t even— Why would you—?”

“I didn’t want her to be alone,” she’s quick to defend herself. “She said she would just stay at a motel until she finds an apartment, or mom gets back and allows her to stay with us again, but I couldn’t just let her do that. After everything that’s happened she—“

“I get it.” I cut her off and drop my hand in my lap.

Of course I don’t want Sam to be alone. Not after everything that’s happened. She needs someone, she needs Tara, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m nervous to face her and that I’m upset Tara went behind my back.

“So, she can stay for a while?” she asks hesitantly which makes me sigh and nod.

“Yes, she can stay, but don’t ever pull something like that again. I mean, I love you, Sprout, but that’s just— No.”

Tara’s shoulders sag with relief and she nods adamantly. “I won’t, I promise. I wasn’t thinking when I did it. I just didn’t want her to be alone and since I’m staying with you, I figured it would be fine if she just stayed with us, too. I mean, you are best friends. . .“

“Were,” I correct, but it doesn’t faze her. She just hands me my phone back and I, now resigned to the idea, wordlessly add the Pad Thai to our order before finally paying for it and ordering it. “So, when is she going to be here?”

Tara checks her own phone for the time. “She said she’d be here in an hour fourty five minutes ago, so in about fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes. Wow, okay. This is really happening. First I don’t see her for five years, and now she’s going to be living with me.

Luckily I have a guest room she can use since Paige and Liam stay over all the time, but we’ll still be seeing a lot of each other and I don’t know how to act around her now that Ghostface is gone.

“Okay.” I take my laptop off my lap and put it on the coffee table. “I’ll get the guest room ready then.”

The first night Tara stayed with me, she slept in the guest room, but then she had a nightmare and crawled into my bed which is where she’s been sleeping with me ever since, so I’ll have to change the sheets before Sam gets here.

I’m sure she wouldn’t mind sleeping in a bed Tara’s already slept in, but Tara was sweating quite a lot when I found her screaming and shaking in her sleep, so I’ll just go ahead and change them real quick.

“I’ll help,” Tara is quick to offer, but in the end I do all the work since she can’t stay on her feet for long without her crutches.

It is a little difficult to get everything done with only one arm, but in the end, I manage just fine and not even a minute after I’m done the doorbell rings.

“That’s Sam,” Tara says, limping out of the room. I follow her nervously, but keep my distance when she greets Sam at the front door.

The two of them share a sweet hug and exchange some mumbled pleasantries before Tara invites Sam into the apartment.

The older Carpenter sister looks around curiously and sets her bag down to take off her shoes and jacket, her eyes landing on me as soon as Tara steps out of the way.

“Hey,” she says, straightening up and tucking her hair behind her ears.

I awkwardly lift my free hand in greeting. “Hi.”

“Thanks for letting me stay with you for a couple of days,” she says, smiling a thin-lipped smile.

Tara watches us curiously, waiting for my reaction.

I don’t want to make this any weirder than it already is, so I just nod and say, “You’re welcome. The guest room is all the way down the hall to the right.“

“Thank you.” She picks up her bag again and steps further into the apartment. Her movements are uncertain and I can tell she doesn’t really know how to act, so I say, “Why don’t you go put your stuff away and freshen up a little. We’ve got Thai food on the way and Tara’s already picked out a movie.”

“Yeah, okay.” She looks like she wants to hug me, she even steps a little closer, but then she thinks better of it and turns on her heels, heading to the guest room.

I let out a shaky breath as soon as she’s out of sight and head to the kitchen, Tara following me on her crutches.

“So, what was all that about?” she asks, leaning against the counter when I pull a bottle of water out of the fridge. “I mean, I know Sam was gone for five years, but the two of you weren’t acting this weird around each other three days ago. Did something happen?”

What didn’t happen? We almost died several times, I found out she was seeing visions of Billy, and after all this time, she now knows how I feel about her and she has yet to say something about it.

I have no clue how she feels about it. Does it bother her? Does it make her uncomfortable? Is that why she hasn’t talked about it yet? No, she can’t be, if she were she wouldn’t have agreed to come here, right?

“It’s. . . nothing,” I say, opening the bottle and taking a sip.

Tara raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but she doesn’t push it which I’m grateful for because Sam enters the kitchen a moment later.

That was fast. . .

She’s changed out of her jeans into some sweatpants and has tied her hair into a low ponytail.

“Did you get everything sorted out in Modesto?” Tara asks and Sam nods, accepting a new bottle of water when I hand it to her.

“Quitting my job was easy and it didn’t take long to convince my landlord to let me move out before my lease ended,” she explains, slowly but surely getting more comfortable in my space. Her brown eyes take in her surroundings and when she spots an old picture of Tara, herself, and me on the fridge her face softens and her eyes find me.

She once again has an unreadable expression on her face, but before I can dwell on it, the doorbell rings.

“That’ll be our food. I’ll be right back,” I say, excusing myself and making my way out of the kitchen to the front door.

The delivery guy is around my age and he smiles when he hands me our food in a plate bag, but then his face drops and his eyes widen in realization.

“Wait, aren’t you one of the people involved in the Ghost—“

“Nope.” I hand him a five dollar bill as a tip and slam the door in his face before he can finish his sentence.

This has happened several times now. Every time I order food or go out to the convenience store around the corner, I get recognized and asked about what happened.

It’s something I could really live without because it brings back the memories of what happened, but I guess people are just curious and it’s going to take some time for them to find something new to obsess over.

Taking a deep breath, I shake my head to get rid of the memory of Richie’s lifeless body and head into the living room where Sam and Tara have already made themselves comfortable on the couch.

They’re chatting about God knows what but stop when they see me come in with the food.

“Finally!” Tara eagerly accepts her food when I hand it to her and steals one of the spring rolls before I can set them on the coffee table for everyone to share.

I smile and take a seat next to her, taking my own food out of the plastic bag before handing Sam who’s sitting on Tara’s other side her Pad Thai.

“Thank you. What do I owe you?” she asks, her eyes lighting up ever so slightly when she opens the takeout container and sees what we got her.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” I say, waiving her off, but she’s not having it.

She frowns and sets her food down in her lap. “No, please tell me. You’re already letting me stay with you for free, the least I can do is pay for my own food.”

“It’s really no problem,” I say before gesturing at Tara. “This one’s been mooching off of me for years now, so paying for one more extra meal really isn’t going to make a difference.”

It’s true. I’ve paid for a lot of Tara’s food and whatnot over the last couple of years, but it’s does matter because my parents left me quite a bit of money when they died. My mom was an investment banker and had quite a bit saved up before she passed, so that’s where most of it came from, but I also got a bunch of money when I sold our old house.

“Hey!” Tara protests around a mouth full of food and shoves me playfully, and I just shove her back and poke her cheek.

“What? You sayin’ it isn’t true?” I teased and when she doesn’t answer I just chuckle softly and turn my attention back to Sam who’s still looking a bit torn. “Really. It’s no problem. Just eat. I’m sure you’ll find some other way to make it up to me.”

Her face softens and she finally nods, her brown eyes shining with gratitude. “Okay. . . Thanks.”

I send her a tight lipped smile and focus back on my own food, giving Tara permission to finally start the movie she picked once we’ve all settled down properly.

It’s almost three in the morning and I still can’t sleep.

We went to bed a couple of hours ago, after finishing our dinner and watching another movie, but I just can’t sleep.

I kept tossing and turning in my bed—grateful that Tara decided to sleep in the guest room with Sam tonight—until I just couldn’t take it anymore.

Now I’m sitting at the kitchen island, in the dark, with a steaming cup of tea in front of me. I was hoping it would maybe help me feel a little sleepy, but so far no luck.

I’m as wide awake as ever because my mind keeps replaying what happened three days ago at Amber’s. I can still hear the gunshots, Sam’s pained whimpering, and Richie’s gurgling when he chocked on his own blood.

So many people are dead, and all because of Richie and Amber’s fucked up dream of making a new Stab movie.

Wes and his mom’s funeral is next week and I’m planning on attending it, but I don’t know how I’m going to handle it yet. It feels like it was only yesterday that I went to my parents funeral and I just know going to theirs will bring back a whole lot of memories.

After everything that’s happened I’m just glad nothing happened to Liam and Paige. The two of them are still in San Francisco, but they texted me earlier that they’d be returning some time next week.

“Can’t sleep?”

I flinch so hard, I spill some of my tea over the back of my hand, making me hiss in pain. I look over my shoulder and exhale shakily when I see Sam standing in the doorway with her arms wrapped around herself.

“Jesus, Sam,” I whisper, wiping my hand on my pajama pants. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry.” She approaches slowly and hesitantly takes a seat on the high chair next to me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay. . .” I look at her and when our eyes meet in the darkness I drop my defenses and let my shoulders relax. “Do you—Uh— Want some tea?” I ask and when she nods I get up to make her a cup.

“So. . . Can’t sleep?” she asks again when I turn on the kettle and I sigh before answering, keeping my back turned her way.

She makes me nervous, looking all calm and cozy in my space, and the fact that she’s wearing my faded high school hockey sweater is making it even worse.

Where did she even get that?

The only explanation I can come up with is that Tara gave it to her since she’s always raiding my closet for oversized stuff.

“Yeah, you know—Nightmares. . .” I say, taking out a mug and putting a tea bag in it before filling it with hot water.

“I get it. I get them, too.” Sam smiles sadly and accepts the tea with a grateful nod when I hand it to her. Our fingers brush for a second which sends sparks up my arm and I’m quick to pull away and take a seat on my chair again.

“Right.” Of course she has nightmares, too. It’d be weird if she didn’t. After all she was the one who was being manipulated and used for this whole new-stab-movie bullshit. The rest of us just got hurt.

I can feel an awkward silence settling over us, and take a sip of tea to distract myself. Sam is playing with the string of her tea bag, glancing at me every so often as if she wants to say something.

For a couple of moments, she doesn’t, seemingly scared of how I might react, but then she seems to gather enough courage. She turns in her chair to face me and buries her hands in her lap, saying, “They’re mostly about you, you know?”

I set my tea back down and turn to face her as well, frowning. “Huh?”

“The nightmares,” she clarifies, her dark eyes searching my face for any kind of reaction. “Every time I try to sleep, I see you, covered in blood and dead. Tara, too, sometimes, but it’s mostly just you.”

I raise my eyebrows, surprised, but don’t say anything because it seems like she isn’t done talking yet.

“I can’t stop thinking about the way you literally collapsed right in front of me at the hospital. There was so much blood and then at Amber’s—the blood on your face from your broken nose—I thought you’d been shot in the head for a second when I saw you lying in the living room.” Sam wipes at a stray tear without breaking eye contact. “And then you stood up to Richie for me, a-and I thought, this is it. He really is going to kill you now, but then he didn’t. He just kneed you in the stomach, but in my dreams h-he shoots you. Every. Single. Time. He shoots you right in front of me and I—“ She lets out a shaky breath, “—I just can’t bear the thought of losing you. . . Not after everything we’ve been through. Not before I can fix things between us.”

I swallow the growing lump in my throat and reach for one of her hands, taking it in mine and squeezing it gently. “You’re not going to lose me.”

She shakes her head and sniffles. “You don’t know that. Ghostface could come back, or-or you could get into another accident.”

I sigh and look away. She’s right, but the fear of what could happen shouldn’t stop us from living our lives. “I know, but the chances of either of those things happening again are slim to none, sooo you have all the time in the world to make things up to me,” I joke quietly, which makes her chuckle sadly.

I know I said I wasn’t mad anymore, but that was when I thought we were literally going to die. Now, I can’t say I’m still mad, but she does have to prove that she wants to be in my life again— that I can trust her and rely on her again.

She interlaces our fingers and lifts my hand to press a kiss to my knuckles which makes me freeze. “I will make it up to you,” she whispers, moving closer to tracing the index finger of her other hand over the bruised bridge of my broken nose and around the edges of my black eyes. Her touch is gentle and makes my skin tingle, and I instantly miss it when she lowers her hand again.

“I promise, I will make it up to you,” she says again, but this time her tone is different. There’s more conviction in her voice and she looks as serious as I’ve ever seen her. Her eyes are practically boring into mine and the intensity of it all makes me look away nervously. “Listen, about what Richie said. . .”

I tense. Oh no, here it comes. . .

Why did you never say anything? How long have you felt like this? I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel the same way about you.

I can already imagine all the things she’s going to say, but then she surprises me by going on.

“About my visions of Billy. . .” She cringes and looks away right as I look at her again. She keeps our fingers interlaced, but leans back a little as though she needs the space to think clearly.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” I reassure her, seeing that it’s making her uncomfortable, but she shakes her head and looks at me again.

“No, I really do. You invited me to stay with you, so the least I can do is tell you what you’re dealing with,” she says and it almost sounds like she’s afraid of herself.

I want to tell her that I’m not dealing with anything while she’s here, but she looks like she really wants to say her part, so I stay quiet.

“I started seeing visions of Billy after I found out he was my real father,” she whispers, her grip on my hand tightening. “And it scared me so much, but I didn’t go see a therapist until years later, after I left. . . I was prescribed some antipsychotics, and for a while they worked, and I stopped seeing him, but lately they haven’t been working anymore.”

I can’t imagine how scary that must be. My aunt— my father’s sister—was bipolar before she died of cancer a couple of years ago, so I kind of know what a struggle it can be to have mental health issues, but I can’t fathom seeing visions of my dead serial killer father.

“I don’t know how to make them stop because I’m already taking some pretty hardcore pills. It’s like— I see him in the mirror, or any other reflective surface, a-and he talks to me, like an embodiment of all my intrusive thought but I- I promise you I’d never hurt you or Tara because of him. It’s just draining and— I’m sorry. . .” Her breath hitches and she disconnects her hand from mine to press the heels of her palms against her watering eyes.

She’s shaking and crying quietly, and the sight of it breaks my heart, so I get to my feet and pull her into a hug.

“Don’t apologize,” I say softly, feeling a little of my worry fade when Sam wraps her arms around my waist to hug me back. She slides off her chair to stand as well and buries her face against the side of my neck.

“I just feel so awful, you’ve got enough to deal with, the last thing you need is me dropping all this shit on you. I have no right to just come back into your life and—“

“Nu uh,” I cut her off. “What role you play in my life is up to me to decide. We’re far from being okay, but I still care about you and I want you to know that I’m here for you, got it?”

“I can’t just—“

“Got it?” I cut her off quietly, squeezing her in my arms, or well, just arm since my right one is still in the sling.

Sam sighs, but finally caves, nodding again my neck and tightening her hold on me. “I don’t deserve you. . .”

“Maybe not yet, no, because what you did really hurt me, but I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere,” I say honestly, allowing her to pull back and look up into my eyes.

My heart flips in my chest at her intense gaze, her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth slightly parted as if she’s about to say something.

Nothing comes out however and we just stand like that for a couple of moments, staring at each other and relishing in the other’s warmth.

That is until a scream makes us pull apart. My eyes widen and for a second my heart drops, but then I relax again when I realize what’s happening.

Tara.

Sam, however, looks alarmed, her eyes wide and she goes to grab a knife from the knife block on the kitchen island.

“No, wait.” I grab her wrist mid reach and pull her with me. She looks flabbergasted, probably thinking why I’m so calm, but when we get to the guest bedroom, realization seems to dawn on her and her face softens at the sight of Tara thrashing on the bed with her eyes closed.

I let go of her wrist and quickly move to Tara’s side. “Hey, Sprout, wake up, it’s me.” I grab one of her flailing arms and shake her a little. “Wake up.”

Tara whimpers in her sleep and furrows her eyebrows, so I shake her again.

“Tara!”

That snaps her out of her dream and she shoots up, clutching at her chest with wide eyes.

“Hey, it’s me. You’re okay. It was just a dream, you’re safe.” I let go of her arm and rub my hand up and down her back as Sam cautiously approaches the bed.

She takes a seat on Tara’s other side and gently takes her bandaged hand into her own.

Tara looks between us with teary eyes and closes her eyes for a moment, catching her breath.

“It all felt so real,” she whispers.

“I know,” I say quietly, sharing a sympathetic look with Sam over her head. “But it wasn’t. You’re here and you’re okay.“

Tara sniffles and opens her eyes again. She looks at me first, then at Sam before letting out a shaky breath while nodding.

“A-Are you going to be okay?” Sam asks gently, shuffling a little closer until she’s sitting next to Tara with her back resting against the headboard.

“I—“ Tara swallows thickly,”— Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m just a little shaken, that’s all.”

Sam doesn’t look convinced, but accepts her answer and presses a kiss to the back of her head. “Is there anything I can do to help? Do you want to watch something, or do you want some tea?”

“Can you just stay?” Tara asks with pleading eyes, glancing at me before adding, “Both of you?”

I glance at Sam and when she nods faintly, I agree. “Of course. Move over.”

Tara shuffles to the middle of the bed and lifts the comforter so I can lie down next to her while Sam slips under the comforter on her other side.

Tara grabs Sam’s arm and wraps it around her stomach so she’s being held from behind before placing her head on my shoulder.

“Good?” I ask as soon as she’s settled and she nods with a content sigh.

Sam and I share another look over her head and when I see the care and gratitude in her eyes I send her a soft smile.

We’re going to be okay.

“What’s all this?” I ask the next morning, walking into the kitchen where Tara’s sitting at the kitchen island and Sam is standing over the stove.

Soft music is playing from a speaker and it smells delicious and when my eyes land on the stack of pancakes in front of Tara I know why.

“Sam is making pancakes!” Tara grins and plucks a blueberry from her plate into her mouth.

“I can see that.” I chuckle and take a seat next to Tara, smiling when Sam shyly slides a cup of coffee in front of me. “Thank you.”

“They’re chocolate chip,” Tara muses around a mouthful of food.

I raise an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“The pancakes,” she clarifies which makes my eyes snap to the stack of pancakes in front of her.

No. That can’t be. Surely Sam doesn’t remember such a trivial little—

“Your favorites.”

My eyes snap back up and I find Sam smiling hesitantly.

“At least, I hope they still are,” she adds, scratching her neck awkwardly.

Amazed, I nod dumbly which makes her perk up and finish plating the rest of the pancakes. She joins Tara and me at the kitchen island and hands me my own plate.

“Thanks,” I whisper, taking a careful bite of the pancakes and feeling my heart warm at the nostalgic feeling that washes over me. We used to make these pancakes all the time when she’d sleep over, and right now it’s the first time I’m having them since she left. I just couldn’t bring myself to make them without her.

Sam steals a couple glances every now and then while we eat and smiles when I finish my entire stack of pancakes in less than five minutes.

“Oh, by the way,” Tara says after a while, grabbing a stack of envelopes from the chair next to hers. “I got your mail out of the mailbox for you.”

I take a sip of coffee and take them from her with a hum, skimming my eyes over them, only mildly interested.

Most of them are ads or bills, but one catches my attention and I’m quick to open it and read it.

No way. . .

My eyes widen at what it says, and I re-read it a couple of times before Tara notices my stunned silence and asks what’s going on.

“A scout from a hockey team in Boston was at one of our recent games and now they want to sign with me,” I answer quietly, still in shock.

I never expected this. I want to play professionally one day, yes, but I was actually planning on finishing my degree first.

“What?” Tara grabs the letter from me and reads it as well with wide eyes before looking back up. “This is— This is great!”

I frown and take the letter back. “Yeah. . . I guess.”

It is great that they want me on their team, but I can’t just drop everything here and move all the way across the country to Boston. Not only because of my degree but also because of Tara, and now, Sam.

“You guess?” Tara pokes my arm, excited. “What do you mean? This is everything you ever wanted!”

I glance at Sam to find her already looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and wistfulness.

“Yeah, but—“

“But what?” Tara butts in, waving the letter for emphasis. “This is your chance to get out of here and finally do what you’ve always dreamed of. How can you have second thoughts about it?”

Again, I look at Sam, but she’s no longer looking at me. She’s pushing a piece of pancake around on her plate, seemingly lost in thought.

We both know that if I go to Boston it will be incredibly difficult to fix our friendship.

I just got her back. I can’t just leave now, but then again, Tara is right. I’ve always wanted to get out of here after my parents died.

“I can’t— I mean— The semester just started— A-And you. . . I can’t leave you alone,” I splutter. I’m so overwhelmed with feelings, I don’t know what to say.

On one hand, this really is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I really want to go, but on the other hand, I don’t want to leave Tara, or Sam. They need me, especially Tara, and I don’t want to leave Liam and Paige behind either.

“But I’m not alone,” Tara counters with a gentle smile and nudges Sam. “I’ve got this one back now and I’m sure you can move your classes online or something.”

“Tara—“

“She’s right.” Sam cuts in, looking up from her plate. There’s a sad smile playing on her lips, but she seems just as resolved as Tara. “You should go. This is your life we’re talking about, and it seems like it’s high time you start living it.”

My mouth snaps shut and I stare at both of them with furrowed eyebrows for a couple of moments before giving in. “Okay.”

Looks like I’ll be moving to Boston.

_______________________________________________

Hi everyone!

I know this is a bit of a filler chapter, but it had to be written to bridge the gap between the fifth and the sixth movie.

Anyway, happy holidays! ❤️

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23

P.S. If you like this story I highly recommend you check out @persevereforahappyending ‘s No Man’s Land. It’s a great read.

[lazysoulwriter]

A Christmas of Our Own - Paul Mescal.｡･:*˚:✧｡

·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊·̩̩̥͙

The cabin was nestled deep in the snow-covered hills, its stone walls and thatched roof glowing softly in the golden light of the fireplace. Outside, the world was silent, blanketed in white. The only sound was the occasional whisper of the wind through the pines.

Inside, Paul stood by the window, watching the snow fall in slow, mesmerizing swirls. A mug of hot cocoa steamed in his hands, and a faint smile played on his lips.

“I still can’t believe we’re really here,” he said, his voice warm and low.

She turned from where she was placing the final ornaments on their small, modest Christmas tree. Her sweater sleeves were pushed up to her elbows, her cheeks pink from the fire’s heat.

“Just us,” she replied, stepping closer. “No distractions, no cameras, no schedules. It feels… perfect.”

He set the mug down and reached for her, pulling her into his arms. She fit against him as if she’d been made for that very moment. His chin rested lightly on the top of her head as he sighed.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he murmured. “Our first real Christmas. I’ve never needed anything fancy… just you.”

She leaned back to look up at him, her eyes shining in the firelight. “You have me,” she whispered. “Always.”

The weight of the year seemed to lift as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth. It had been a whirlwind—work, public appearances, stolen moments that always felt too fleeting. But here, in the quiet of the mountains, time stretched. It felt infinite.

“Do you know what I love most about you?” he asked suddenly, his voice thick with emotion.

“What?” she asked, her tone playful but curious.

“Everything.” His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing against her cheekbones. “The way you laugh. The way you make me feel like I’m enough, even when I doubt myself. The way you see through all the noise and find the real me. I’ve never known love like this before you.”

Her breath hitched, and she blinked back tears. “Paul,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You make the world brighter. You make me braver. Loving you feels like the best thing I’ll ever do.”

He kissed her then, slow and deep, pouring every unspoken word into the connection. When they pulled apart, her hands lingered on his chest, her fingers tracing the outline of his sweater.

“Let’s make a promise,” she said softly.

“Anything,” he replied without hesitation.

“Every year, no matter what life throws at us, we find a moment like this. Just us. Just love.”

His smile was tender as he nodded. “Deal.”

They spent the rest of the evening wrapped in their own little world. They shared stories, exchanged simple gifts, and danced slowly to Christmas songs that played softly in the background. The tree lights cast a gentle glow, and the fire crackled, its warmth mirroring the love that filled the room.

As midnight approached, they stepped outside, hand in hand. The snow had stopped, and the stars stretched endlessly above them, bright and clear against the inky sky. Paul turned to her, his breath visible in the crisp air.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, his voice a reverent whisper.

“Merry Christmas,” she replied, her heart full to the brim.

In that moment, surrounded by the stillness of the night and the magic of the season, they knew they had found something rare. A love that wasn’t just for Christmas, but for all the days that lay ahead.

[circeyoru]

Loyalty of The Shadow _ Part 3 *END*

[Sung Jinwoo x Friend!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 2  — Part 3 (here)

“Arise!”

[YOU FAILED TO EXTRACT THE SHADOW.]

[YOU STILL HAVE TWO CHANCES REMAINING.]

“Arise!!”

[YOU FAILED TO EXTRACT THE SHADOW.]

[YOU STILL HAVE ONE CHANCE REMAINING.]

“No… I can’t lose you…” Jinwoo hugged your cold body close, ignoring all the blood that dirtied his clothing or the scene he was making in front of his Shadows who watched with bated undead breath. “I shouldn’t have been with Hunter Cha… I shouldn’t have let you leave…”

It all happened within less than an hour. Jinwoo heard from Igris—with the help of Beru, who was the only Shadow to speak—that you left for some time alone and wanted to be completely alone. He thought it was fine as long as you were near him and he could go to you the moment he was done with Hae-In. But it took longer than expected and look what that led to.

You were the target of some people that saw Jinwoo through a negative lens. Since it was impossible to harm the S-Rank, it was simpler to put their anger and envy on people close to him. You happened to be unguarded at the worst time possible. When he got the news from his patrolling Shadows, it was already too late. Your body was cold and you had lost too much blood for his potions to do anything.

Jinwoo pleaded, he wished, he begged, he hoped. This was his last chance.

“Arise.”

From your body, misty tendrils formed and flickered around until it started to create a figure he was all too familiar with. There was you, standing before him with purple eyes and a body of shadow and darkness, dressed in what appeared to be robes like a mage—just like Min Byung-Gyu—but also some form of armour at the joints, everything outlined by neon purple like his Shadows. 

[SHADOWS HIGHER THAN RANK KNIGHT CAN BE NAMED.]

It was weird that you could be named, and even more bizarre that you were ranked as high as Igris was when he was first extracted. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was what to name you. It felt wrong to give you your original name because this was just a Shadow version of you, but then he can’t just give you another name. 

Just then, he had the answer. He stared at you in the eye and brushed his thumb across your cheek. “Blank. You’ll answer to that from now on.”

His heart ached when you bowed to him with a hand over your heart area. Your gaze fixated on him when you straightened up, and there was wonder and eagerness in your eyes that he couldn’t help but be reminded of your memories. 

Well, he might as well say it now. Still, with all his perceptive point investment, he somehow failed to notice his Shadows giving you a particular look. Particularly Beru and Igris, who appeared most fidgety, as if they had something to tell but couldn’t. 

“I have loved you for so long… Will always love you. I am so sorry for letting that happen to you. I should have protected you. I should have been with you.” Jinwoo leaned down where his forehead lightly touched yours and his eyes closed. “I love you.”

Hm!

??

Jinwoo’s eyes opened with confusion. The sound was way too close to be from the outside source. Not to mention… He raised his head and stared at the Shadow newly added to his army. He definitely felt a flinch from this Shadow. His eyes narrowed as he eyed the Shadow that stiffened for no reason. “Hey…”

Your eyes blinked and somehow avoided his gaze. Which was weird already since his Shadows never does something like this. They never act this human, nor were they affected by what he says on an emotional level. This was very suspicious. 

“Is there something you want to say to me?” Jinwoo’s eyes stayed glued to your facial expressions.

You shook your head and made a cross with your arms in front of your face, anything to shield you from Jinwoo’s intense gaze.

“It is you, isn’t it?” Jinwoo sighed your original name. “Stop acting.”

You tried maintaining your Shadow act as much as possible. It was too much and you ended up nodding in defeat with a droopy attitude. 

“How is this possible?” Jinwoo questioned aloud as his eyes widened, bewildered by the relaxed posture you suddenly took after your admission. You were acting the same as before, like nothing has changed and he didn’t just extract your shadow from your dead body. Wasn’t there an urge of loyalty placed on you that directed your attention to him? A force that compelled you to act inhuman?

You shrugged and pointed at your neck, no, throat to be more specific. Your mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. 

“Are you saying ‘you can’t speak’?” Jinwoo guessed your meaning.

You nodded enthusiastically and clapped your hands with a smile. Your lips moved, but once more, Jinwoo couldn’t hear anything from you. 

“My Queen is calling you smart and quick on the uptake, My Liege.” Beru spoke up suddenly, his wings fluttered with pride as he was now more important, being a bridge between his master and his master’s love. 

“You can understand?!”

“I can understand you now!?” 

Both Jinwoo and you exclaimed. The two of you looked back at each other and giggled. Soon, some changes were made. Instead of Beru watching over his mother and younger sister, Jinwoo had a legion of knights, mages, orcs, ice bears, and ants to guard them. Since Beru was the only one who could deliver your words to him, Beru had to be close by. 

Then he wondered how you could have your voice back. His only answer was to raise your rank. However, sending you into battles was something he swore he’d never do to you. He wanted to protect you, but not have you serve him. Now that you weren’t any ordinary Shadow but something akin to a reincarnation of yourself, he can’t do this to you. 

“My Liege.” Beru’s words brought him out of his thoughts. “My Queen wants to fight as well.”

“Nonsense. I won’t allow it.” Jinwoo spoke without missing a beat. “Never.”

Beru continued to relay your words, “My Queen wants to fight your battles with you, to be next to you. Rather than listening to your hardships.”

Jinwoo looked over to you, who was busy mingling with his Shadows, seemingly trying out a sword or a mage’s staff. Needless to say, the Shadows were ecstatic to finally communicate with you, even though it was your death and their master’s powers that allowed it. Still, they all made the best of things and kept you busy. 

“We will ensure The Queen is never in danger, My Liege.” Beru promised. 

It wasn’t like he and the other Shadows wanted their master’s beloved to fight alongside them. Yes, it’s an honour. But they shared their master’s worry when it came to your safety and health. When you told the Shadows this, they were against it until they heard your reasoning behind it. You wanted to be able to talk to Jinwoo again, to accept his confession by your own voice. For you, too, saw this as your second chance in life or the afterlife.

Jinwoo sighed, though a small smile was on his lips. “I could never say no when it comes to that, huh? Fine.”

As if you heard the resolve, your head turned over to Jinwoo while you waved with a beaming smile, not caring that you were swinging a sword in the air. 

“Let’s do some levelling up.”

Note: Welp, first one of the Christmas update is out~ And this is the end of this series. Thanks for following this series! (even though I never planned for it to last this long)

Circe Y.

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