#I feel too blended with the host to be sure though

[rootedinrevisions]

A Holiday to Remember

SUMMARY: When plans with your family fall through, an unexpected invitation leads you to spending Christmas with Glen - and his lively, close-knit family. You find yourself swept up in the warmth of holiday traditions and the undeniable pull of a connection you never saw coming. Between stolen moments under twinkling lights and whispered confessions, the boundaries of friendship blur, leaving you to wonder if this Christmas could be the start of something extraordinary or just a fleeting holiday dream.

A/N: So I was hoping to have this out before or on Christmas but then I got writer's block and struggled to finish it. And then I got inspiration...maybe too much inspiration. I watched Anyone But You and then a couple Hallmark movies so this definitely has a rom-com/cheesy Hallmark vibe to it. That's also why this is so long because as I was watching those movies I got ideas for moments to add to the story. But hopefully you all enjoy this!

WARNINGS: Some light cursing, maybe? Otherwise I don't think there's any warnings. Just 17k words of cute fluffy wholesomeness.

WORD COUNT: 17.5k (I got a little carried away with this one.)

TAGS: In Comments

The warm glow of string lights hung delicately along the restaurant's windows, casting a cozy hue on the bustling Los Angeles sidewalk. You took a deep breath, smoothing your sweater as you stepped inside, the gentle hum of conversation and clinking glasses enveloping you.

Approaching the host stand, you offered a polite smile. "Hi, I’m here for Glen Powell’s reservation."

The host, a young woman with a sleek bob and a professional smile, glanced at her list before nodding. "Of course. Right this way." She grabbed a menu and gestured for you to follow her through the dimly lit dining room.

As you weaved between tables, your nerves fluttered faintly, though you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like this was anything new—just dinner with Glen. Something you’d done dozens of times.

The host led you to a table tucked in the back corner, offering a little more privacy from the busy main floor. Glen spotted you almost immediately. He set his phone down and stood up, his familiar, easy grin spreading across his face as he opened his arms.

“There she is,” he said warmly, pulling you into a hug as soon as you reached him. His cologne—a blend of something woodsy and clean—wrapped around you, as comforting as the embrace itself.

“Sorry I’m late,” you murmured against his shoulder before pulling back. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

He waved off your apology as you both sat down, his smile never faltering. “You’re in L.A.—isn’t traffic always a nightmare?” He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the edge of the table. “Besides, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

The way his gaze lingered on you for just a second too long made your stomach flutter, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside. It was Glen, your friend. Nothing more.

You picked up the menu and skimmed over the options, even though you weren’t really focusing on the words. Glen sat across from you, flipping his own menu open but still managing to glance your way every few moments.

“So,” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence. “How’s the movie coming along? Are you still filming, or are you finally getting some time to breathe?”

Glen chuckled softly, setting the menu down as he leaned back in his chair. “We wrapped a few days ago, actually. Post-production is in full swing now, so it’s out of my hands now. Now I can take a break and get some normalcy.”

“Normalcy,” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “For you, that probably means jetting off somewhere, doesn’t it?”

He smirked, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Okay, maybe my version of ‘normal’ is a little skewed. But I’m just going back to Austin for a few days. Nothing too crazy. What about you? How’s work? Are they letting you off the hook at all this holiday season?”

You sighed, your eyes drifting back to the menu as you tried to keep your voice light. “It’s fine. Busy, as always. But I guess that’s better than having nothing to do, right?”

He frowned slightly, studying you with an intensity that made you squirm just a little. “You sure you’re doing okay?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m good. It’s just—work has been hectic, and I haven’t really had time to think about the holidays.”

His brow furrowed. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’re not going home for Christmas.”

You hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “It’s just… complicated,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “My family’s so far away, and with work, I just couldn’t make the timing work. So, yeah, I’ll be here this year. But it’s not a big deal.”

Glen’s jaw tightened, and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “You’re spending Christmas alone?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I’ll survive.”

“No way,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “That’s not happening.”

You blinked, startled by his sudden intensity. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re coming with me,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “To Texas. You can’t spend Christmas alone—that’s just… wrong.”

“Glen,” you began, already shaking your head. “I can’t just crash your family’s holiday. That’s not fair to them—or to you.”

“They’d love you,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And it’s not crashing if you’re invited. Which you are. Officially. Come on, what’s holding you back?”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but the way he was looking at you—earnest, determined, like he wouldn’t take no for an answer—made the words catch in your throat.

“It’s just a couple of days,” he added, his voice softening now. “And I promise, it’ll be fun. Think of it as an adventure.”

You hesitated, your resolve wavering under the weight of his sincerity. Maybe, just maybe, he was right.

“Glen, I can’t just pack up and leave,” you said, trying to keep your tone firm. “I only have a couple of days off for the holiday, and—”

“Perfect,” he interrupted with a grin. “I’m only staying three days anyway. We’ll head out the morning of the 23rd, and we’ll be back by the 26th.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “It’s not that simple. Do you know how expensive last-minute flights are right now? Not to mention the hassle of even finding one—everything’s probably booked solid.”

His grin didn’t falter. “I’ll help you find a flight. Hell, I’ll even cover it if that’s what’s holding you back.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Glen, no. You’re not paying for my ticket.”

“Why not? Consider it my Christmas gift to you,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual shrug, as if he hadn’t just offered something outrageous.

You scoffed. “You’re insane.”

“I’m resourceful,” he corrected, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “And if it really comes down to it, I’ll fly you there myself.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. “Now that seems like a gross misuse of your pilot’s license.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, but his determination was starting to chip away at your defenses. “Glen, I appreciate the offer, but I really don’t want to intrude on your family’s holiday. It’s their time with you, and I’d just be—”

“A welcome guest,” he cut in, his voice softer now. “Trust me, they’d love to have you there. My mom’s been asking when she’s going to meet my mysterious ‘friend’ I talk about anyway. This is the perfect chance.”

Your cheeks warmed at that, and you looked away, suddenly very interested in the pattern on your napkin. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” he urged, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. “It’ll be fun. You’ll get to relax, eat some great food, and experience the chaos that is my family at Christmas. What do you have to lose?”

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to let this go. “What about the fact that I’ll probably end up sharing a room with one of your nieces or sleeping on the couch? Not exactly my idea of a restful holiday.”

“Wrong again,” he said with a triumphant grin. “We will be staying at my place. I have plenty of space. I’ll even take the couch if you want the nice bed.”

You laughed despite yourself, the mental image of Glen curled up on his own couch making it impossible to stay serious. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re running out of excuses,” he pointed out, his grin widening. “So? What’s it going to be?”

You hesitated, your gaze meeting his. There was something in his eyes—an openness, a genuine warmth—that made it hard to say no.

“Fine,” you said finally, throwing your hands up in defeat. “You win. I’ll go.”

His face lit up, and he reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

“You’d better be right,” you teased, though you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

* * * * *

The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow across the Austin skyline as Glen navigated the bustling city streets, the hum of his truck filling the comfortable silence. You sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the vibrant murals and quirky storefronts that zipped past. Normally, you’d be chatting nonstop, asking Glen a million questions about the city or teasing him about his questionable playlist choices. But now, your hands fidgeted in your lap, and your lips pressed into a thin line, your mind elsewhere.

“You’re kind of quiet over there. You’ve said about five words since we got here,” Glen remarked, his voice light but tinged with curiosity. He glanced at you briefly, his brows furrowing in concern before turning his attention back to the road. “That’s gotta be some kind of record for you.”

You blinked, his comment pulling you from your thoughts. Turning to face him, you tried to muster a small smile. “Sorry. Just... a lot on my mind, I guess.”

Glen didn’t look convinced. “Uh-huh,” he said, his tone skeptical. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with meeting my family, would it?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat. “Maybe a little.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Relax! You’ve got nothing to worry about, you know. They’re going to love you. I’m the one they’re stuck with, remember?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, but the sound was short-lived. “It’s not that I’m worried they won’t like me,” you admitted. “It’s just... I don’t know. What if I say something dumb? Or trip over the Christmas tree? Or—”

“Hey,” Glen interrupted, his voice gentle. At a red light, he reached over and placed a warm hand on your knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re overthinking this. My family’s not expecting perfection, okay? They’re just excited to meet the person I’ve been talking about nonstop for the last couple of months.”

Your eyes widened at his confession, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve been talking about me?”

Glen grinned, the light turning green as he started driving again. “Obviously. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t brag about how great you are?” He paused, then added with a teasing smirk, “Although I may have left out the part where you can’t handle spicy food. Don’t let my mom’s salsa scare you off, alright?”

That earned a genuine laugh from you, and Glen shot you a quick, satisfied look before turning his attention back to the road.

As the city gave way to sprawling suburbs and then the open, winding roads on the edge of Austin, Glen’s demeanor remained steady—calm, reassuring, and lighthearted. He pointed out landmarks along the way, sharing stories about his time growing up in the area and cracking jokes to pull you out of your nervous headspace.

“You doing okay over there?” he asked after a while, glancing at you again.

“Yeah,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Putting up with you?” Glen repeated, feigning offense. “You think I invited you out here because I had to? Please.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat. Before you could dwell on it too much, Glen reached over to nudge your shoulder playfully. 

“Seriously, relax,” he said with a grin. “You’ll fit right in. And if anyone gives you a hard time, they’ll have to answer to me.”

You smiled at that, the knot in your stomach loosening slightly. Glen had a way of making you feel like everything was going to be okay, even when your own thoughts tried to convince you otherwise.

When he finally pulled into the gravel driveway of his house, nestled on a quiet piece of land just outside the city, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Glen parked the truck and turned to you with an encouraging smile.

“Alright,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “First stop: my place. Let’s drop off your stuff and then we’ll head over to my parents’ house. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a deep breath as you climbed out of the truck. “Sounds good.”

Glen led the way up the front porch steps, his boots thudding lightly against the wood. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside to let you enter first.

“Welcome to Casa de Glen,” he said with a grin, sweeping his arm theatrically as you stepped inside.

The interior was exactly what you’d imagined—a perfect blend of cozy and modern. Warm wood floors stretched throughout the open-concept space, and the living room featured a large leather couch and a stone fireplace that was clearly the centerpiece of the room. A framed poster of Top Gun: Maverick hung on one wall, balanced by shelves filled with books, photos, and a few sports trophies.

“Wow,” you said, taking it all in. “It’s nice. It feels... you.”

“That’s what I was going for,” he said, closing the door behind you. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

He guided you through the living room and into the kitchen, which was sleek and modern with stainless steel appliances and a large island in the center. “This is where the magic happens,” he said, patting the countertop. “By magic, I mean reheating leftovers and making the occasional breakfast taco.”

You laughed, running your hand along the cool stone of the counter. “Very impressive.”

He pointed out a small office that doubled as a gym, then led you to the back door, which opened onto a sprawling patio overlooking a modest backyard. Twinkling string lights were strung across the patio, and a firepit sat off to the side, surrounded by chairs.

“This is great,” you said, stepping out onto the patio and taking in the peaceful view.

“It’s my favorite spot,” Glen admitted, leaning against the doorframe. “If you need to escape the chaos over the next few days, feel free to sneak out here.”

The offer warmed your heart, but before you could respond, Glen pushed off the doorframe and motioned back inside. “Come on, let’s get your bags upstairs.”

He carried your suitcase up the staircase, which was adorned with simple but tasteful decorations—a mix of family photos, framed movie posters, and a few awards he’d picked up over the years. At the top of the stairs, he turned to the left and opened a door.

“This is the guest room,” he said, stepping aside to let you enter.

The room was cozy, with a plush queen-sized bed covered in a navy-blue comforter, a small desk by the window, and a few decorative touches that made it feel welcoming—a basket of rolled-up blankets, a lamp with a warm glow, and a stack of books on the nightstand.

“This is nice,” you said, setting your carry-on bag down by the bed.

“I figured you’d want your own space,” Glen said, setting your suitcase by the desk. “Bathroom’s just down the hall, and there are extra towels in the closet if you need them.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, meeting his eyes.

He hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to say something, before giving you a small smile. “Alright, let me show you the rest of the upstairs.”

You followed him back out into the hall, where he pointed out the bathroom and a smaller guest room that had been converted into a second office. Finally, he led you to the master bedroom at the end of the hall.

“And this is where the magic really happens,” he joked, pushing open the door to reveal a spacious room with a king-sized bed, a walk-in closet, and a sliding door that led to a private balcony.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “You and your magic. I’m starting to think you have a pretty loose definition of the word.”

“Hey, I have my moments,” he said with a wink.

He led you back downstairs, where the tour ended in the living room. “Alright, that’s the grand tour,” he said, clapping his hands together. “What do you think?”

“It’s great,” you said honestly. “It feels very...you. Like even if I didn’t know this was your house I could see you fitting in here.”

And you meant it. You’d been to Glen’s place in Los Angeles before. And it was comfortable and fine enough. But it felt more like a bachelor pad. But this house here in Austin felt like him. It felt like home.

“Good,” he said, his smile softening. “I’m glad you like it. Now, you ready to meet the chaos that is my family?”

Your stomach flipped nervously, but Glen’s easy smile was enough to settle you. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you said.

“Perfect,” he said, grabbing his keys off the counter. “Let’s do this.”

*****

The truck rumbled to a stop in front of the charming two-story house, its exterior painted a warm cream color with dark green shutters. Wreaths adorned the windows, and strings of twinkling lights outlined the roof, giving it a postcard-worthy holiday glow. Glen shifted the truck into park, but before he could even cut the engine, the front door burst open, and a wave of people spilled out onto the porch.

“Here we go,” Glen muttered with a grin, glancing at you. “Brace yourself.”

Your heart raced as his mom was the first to step forward, her arms already open as she made her way down the steps. Cyndy Powell was the picture of warmth, her hair perfectly styled, and her face glowing with excitement. Behind her, Glen’s dad, Glen Sr., stood with an easygoing smile, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. His sisters weren’t far behind—Leslie, the youngest, bounced on her toes with a wide grin, while Lauren, the oldest, followed at a more measured pace, one hand gripping the tiny hand of Glen’s nephew. Glen’s niece trailed behind, clinging to Lauren’s husband.

“Glen!” Cyndy called, waving both hands like she hadn’t seen her son in years, even though he’d assured you it had only been a couple of weeks.

You opened your door cautiously as Glen hopped out of the truck, meeting his mom halfway with a hug. 

“Hey, Mom,” he said, his voice filled with affection.

Cyndy pulled back just enough to cup his face. “You look too thin,” she said, making him laugh. “Are you eating?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Glen assured her, glancing over his shoulder at you.

You hesitated for half a second before stepping out of the truck, suddenly feeling like every pair of eyes was on you. Cyndy’s expression shifted immediately to one of pure delight as she made a beeline for you.

“And you must be the one Glen keeps telling us about!” she said, pulling you into a hug before you could even respond. “Oh, it’s so good to finally meet you. I’m Cyndy.”

“Hi, Mrs. Powell,” you managed, your voice slightly muffled by the hug. “It’s really nice to meet you, too.”

“Oh, please, call me Cyndy,” she insisted, pulling back to hold you at arm’s length. “You’re even prettier than Glen said.”

“Mom,” Glen groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he came to stand beside you.

“What?” Cyndy said innocently before ushering you both toward the rest of the group. “Come on, everyone’s dying to meet her.”

One by one, you were introduced—Glen Sr., who gave you a firm handshake and a kind smile; Leslie, who immediately wrapped you in a hug and declared you were “way too cool to be hanging out with Glen”; Lauren, who gave you a warm smile and said she’d heard so much about you; and finally, Lauren’s twins, who peeked out from behind their dad shyly until Glen crouched down to scoop them up in a playful hug.

“Alright, alright,” Glen said, standing with a twin on each hip as he turned back to his family. “Let her breathe, would you? She’s not used to all this chaos.”

“Chaos?” Cyndy said, feigning offense. “This is love, Glen. Pure holiday love.”

You laughed, but Glen caught the way your shoulders tensed, and he stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your lower back. “You okay?” he asked softly, his tone just for you.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’s just... a lot.”

“Don’t worry,” he said with a wink. “I’ll run interference if I have to.”

Before you could respond, Cyndy was ushering everyone inside, rattling off questions about the drive and insisting you must be starving after traveling all day. You followed the group into the house, which was every bit as welcoming as its exterior—soft, cozy furniture, a roaring fire in the living room, and the scent of something sweet wafting from the kitchen.

You shrugged out of your coat and Glen stepped closer, his hands brushing against your shoulders as he helped slide it off. The gesture was so natural, so easy, that it sent a little flutter through your chest.

“Here, I’ll take that.” His voice was casual, but the faint smile he gave you as he carefully hung your coat on the rack was anything but.

As he turned back to you, Cyndy leaned in with a knowing smile, her voice low enough that only you could hear. “He’s been so excited to bring you home. You should’ve heard him talk about it.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the comment, your cheeks warming as her words sank in. “Oh,” you managed, a little breathless.

Cyndy’s hand lingered on your arm for just a moment, her expression soft with unmistakable affection. “You’ll see,” she added with a wink, before stepping away to call to her husband about something in the kitchen.

When you turned back to Glen, he was watching you, his head tilted slightly. “What was that about?” he asked, his tone light but his curiosity clear.

“Oh, nothing,” you said quickly, trying to wave it off. But you couldn’t quite keep the smile from tugging at your lips—or the slight flush from creeping up your neck.

Glen’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Uh-huh. Sure.” He didn’t push, though, instead gesturing for you to follow him. “Come on. Let’s grab something to drink before everyone starts peppering you with questions.”

The moment lingered as you followed him into the house, Cyndy’s words echoing in your mind. The idea of Glen talking about you—being excited to bring you here—was hard to shake. Maybe it was just his family’s charm, or maybe it was something else entirely. Either way, you couldn’t help the quiet smile that stayed on your face as Glen led the way.

* * * * *

With a steaming mug of cocoa warming your hands, you smiled politely as Glen's mom chatted animatedly about the Powell family Christmas traditions. You nodded along, but the flurry of introductions and the cozy chaos of his family had you feeling a little overwhelmed. Sensing your chance for a breather, you leaned toward Glen.

“Excuse me for a minute,” you murmured, setting your mug down on the counter.

He shot you a curious look but nodded, letting you slip away.

You wandered down the hall, grateful for the moment to collect yourself. After freshening up in the restroom, you made your way back toward the kitchen, but you stopped short as voices drifted toward you from the other side of the doorway.

“...she’s adorable, Glen. Seriously,” one of his sisters—Lauren, you thought—said with a teasing lilt.

“And you brought her home for Christmas?” Leslie chimed in, her voice lilting with mock surprise.

Glen groaned, and you could practically hear him rubbing his hand over his face. “Guys, come on. We’re just friends.”

“Right,” Lauren said, drawing the word out like she didn’t believe him for a second. “Just friends, and yet you insisted she come here instead of spending Christmas alone. Sounds like something a boyfriend would do, don’t you think, Les?”

“Definitely boyfriend behavior,” Leslie agreed, clearly enjoying herself.

“You two are impossible,” Glen muttered, though his tone carried more amusement than frustration. “I didn’t want her to spend the holidays alone, okay?”

Your breath caught at his words, warmth spreading through your chest.

“Sure, sure,” Lauren said, her tone sly. “But just so you know, Mom’s already planning the wedding.”

Glen let out a sharp laugh. “There isn’t going to be a wedding. Let’s dial it back a little, huh? She’s nervous enough as it is without you two scaring her off.”

You took a step back, considering whether to linger a moment longer, but the sound of chairs scraping against the floor signaled that Glen’s sisters were on the move. Quickly, you stepped into the doorway, pretending you hadn’t heard a thing.

“Oh, there she is,” Leslie said with a grin as she and Lauren passed you.

Glen leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, his brow lifting as you stepped inside. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft and genuine.

You nodded, though your gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than you intended. “Yeah, just needed a minute. Your family’s really nice, by the way.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “They’re a handful, but they mean well.”

You walked over to retrieve your cocoa, the rich chocolate aroma grounding you. “They seem really excited to have everyone together.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of their thing,” Glen said, watching you closely. “What about you? You hanging in there?”

You shrugged lightly, a small smile playing at your lips. “It’s a lot, but… in a good way. It’s been a while since I’ve been around a big family like this.”

Glen straightened, stepping closer so his arm brushed against yours. “Well, they already love you.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. His grin widened, but before he could say more, his mom’s voice rang out from the living room, calling for him to help bring in the extra chairs for dinner.

He sighed dramatically, earning another laugh from you. “Duty calls,” he said, but his hand lightly touched your arm as he passed. “Don’t let them rope you into anything too crazy while I’m gone.”

You smiled, watching as he left the room. Something about being here—with him—felt unexpectedly right.

* * * * *

The kitchen buzzed with activity as Glen’s mom and sisters dove into dinner preparations. The smell of roasted turkey and fresh-baked rolls filled the air, making your stomach rumble despite the cocoa you’d just finished. Cyndy was meticulously checking the oven temperature, while Lauren and Leslie were chopping vegetables at the kitchen island.

“Need any help?” you asked hesitantly, stepping further into the room.

Lauren glanced up with a warm smile. “You’re sweet to offer, but trust me, this kitchen is already at max capacity.”

“Speak for yourself,” Leslie said, pointing her knife toward the pile of unpeeled carrots. “Here, grab a peeler. You can help me out before Mom has a meltdown over the timing.”

Cyndy turned from the oven, mock-offended. “I heard that!”

Leslie just smirked as she handed you a peeler and a couple of carrots. “Ignore her. She loves when we tease her. Keeps things interesting.”

You laughed softly and settled in next to Leslie, grateful for something to do with your hands.

“So, how are you holding up?” Leslie asked after a moment, her voice quieter, more personal.

You glanced at her, surprised by the question. “Oh, um… good, I think. Your family’s been really welcoming.”

“We’re loud, though,” Lauren chimed in, pausing her slicing to grin at you. “Hopefully Glen warned you about that.”

“It’s a good kind of loud,” you said honestly, feeling more at ease with them. “I’m just… not used to it, I guess.”

Leslie nudged you lightly with her elbow. “Well, if you can survive the Powell family Christmas chaos, you’re pretty much invincible.”

“Noted,” you said with a laugh, peeling another carrot.

Lauren tilted her head, studying you curiously. “So, how did you and Glen meet, anyway?”

You hesitated, glancing toward the doorway like Glen might walk in and save you. “We met through mutual friends,” you said carefully. “It’s kind of a long story, but we just… clicked, I guess.”

Leslie smirked, clearly enjoying the topic. “Clicked, huh? Like, just friends clicked? Or ‘maybe there’s something more’ clicked?”

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you focused intently on the carrot in your hand. “Definitely just friends,” you said quickly, your voice a little too firm.

“Hmm,” Lauren said, exchanging a look with Leslie.

Before they could press further, Glen walked in, carrying a couple of folding chairs from the garage. He stopped short when he noticed the three of you huddled together.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he set the chairs against the wall.

“Nothing,” Lauren said, her voice entirely too innocent.

Leslie shrugged. “Just getting to know your friend.”

Glen sighed, giving his sisters a pointed look before turning to you. “Don’t let them gang up on you. They’re relentless once they get started.”

“I think I’m holding my own,” you said with a small smile, though you were grateful for his presence.

“Good,” Glen said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. “Because dinner’s almost ready, and if they scare you off before dessert, Mom’s going to kill them.”

The laughter that followed eased the lingering tension, and for the first time since you’d arrived, you felt like you were starting to find your footing amidst the whirlwind of the Powell family.

“Alright,” Cyndy said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get everything to the table before it gets cold.”

The dining room table was a feast for the senses. Platters of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables were arranged in the center, surrounded by bowls of cranberry sauce, rolls, and casseroles. Soft holiday music played in the background, and the warm glow of the chandelier added to the cozy atmosphere.

You found yourself seated between Glen and Lauren, while the twins took turns giggling and sneaking bites of their food despite their mom’s warnings to “at least wait for everyone to get their plate.”

The conversation started casually, with everyone complimenting Cyndy’s cooking and trading jokes about who had eaten the most last Christmas. It wasn’t long before the table was buzzing with overlapping chatter and bursts of laughter.

“So, what’s everyone’s plans for New Year’s?” Lauren asked as she helped her daughter cut her turkey into smaller pieces.

“Will and I are thinking of taking the kids to the park downtown for the fireworks,” Lauren said. “What about you, Glen?”

Glen shrugged, reaching for the mashed potatoes. “Haven’t decided yet. Depends on if this one’s dragging me somewhere” He nudged your shoulder with a playful grin.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m not dragging you to anything. You keep inviting yourself to my plans.”

“Semantics,” he quipped, earning a chuckle from Leslie.

Cyndy, ever the gracious host, leaned toward you with a warm smile. “So, what do you usually do for the holidays with your family?”

You hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the question. “Well, when I can make it home, we usually have a quiet Christmas. Just my parents and my siblings. Lots of food, games, and, uh, my mom’s famous fudge.”

“That sounds lovely,” Cyndy said, her tone genuine. “You’ll have to share the fudge recipe sometime. Maybe we’ll add it to our dessert rotation next year.”

“I’d love to,” you said, feeling a little more at ease.

Throughout dinner, Glen made sure to keep you involved in the conversation, throwing in lighthearted jokes and even sharing an embarrassing story from high school that had everyone in stitches.

“Remember when Glen tried to sing karaoke at the Christmas talent show?” Leslie said, her face lighting up with glee.

“Oh, no,” Glen groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Lauren jumped in. “He thought he could hit the high notes in ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You.’ Spoiler alert: he couldn’t.”

The table erupted in laughter, and even you couldn’t hold back a giggle. Glen peeked at you through his fingers, feigning betrayal.

“Sorry,” you said between laughs. “But I need to hear this someday.”

“Not happening,” Glen said firmly, shaking his head.

By the time dessert was served—a towering plate of Cyndy’s homemade pecan pie—you were full, content, and starting to see why Glen loved spending the holidays here so much.

After dinner, the energy in the house began to settle. The twins had all but fallen asleep at the table, and Lauren and her husband said their goodbyes, bundling their sleepy children into coats before heading out for the night.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” Lauren said, pulling you into a warm hug. “You did great tonight. Don’t let these guys scare you off.” She winked, glancing briefly at Glen.

With the house quieter, you, Glen, and Leslie remained behind to spend a little more time with his parents. Cyndy brought out another round of cocoa, insisting on adding an extra dollop of whipped cream for everyone.

The fire in the living room had burned low, but Glen Sr. stoked it back to life, filling the room with a warm glow. You took a seat on the couch near the hearth, your fingers curling around the mug of cocoa as you soaked in the comforting crackle of the flames.

The warmth of the fire helped, but the Texas winter chill still lingered, and you found yourself shivering slightly as you sipped your drink.

Glen, sitting in an armchair nearby, noticed immediately. Without a word, he stood and grabbed a thick, soft blanket draped over the back of the couch. Crossing the room, he carefully draped it over your shoulders, his hands lingering for a moment to ensure it was snug around you.

“Better?” he asked softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You nodded, your heart warming at the small, thoughtful gesture. “Much better. Thank you.”

Instead of returning to his chair, Glen sat down beside you on the couch, the corner of the blanket brushing against his arm as he stretched out. The closeness was both comforting and a little distracting, the ease of his presence pulling you further into the moment.

Across the room, Cyndy and Glen Sr. shared a knowing look, their quiet conversation halting as they observed the two of you. Leslie, seated in the armchair Glen had vacated, leaned over to whisper something to her mom, her expression amused.

Glen Sr. gave a subtle shake of his head, murmuring something you couldn’t quite catch, though his tone held a hint of playful exasperation.

The whispers and exchanged glances didn’t go unnoticed by Glen, who shot his sister a pointed look. “You guys good over there?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Totally,” Leslie replied, a little too quickly, her smile innocent in a way that wasn’t fooling anyone. “Just enjoying the show.”

You glanced between them, confused. “What show?”

“Nothing!” Cyndy said quickly, her tone light but clearly trying to steer the conversation away. “It’s just nice to see Glen bringing a friend home for the holidays.”

You felt your cheeks warm under her gaze, and Glen let out a small sigh, clearly used to his family’s antics.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he said, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

Leslie smirked but didn’t push further, and Cyndy changed the subject to talk about the Powell family’s Christmas morning traditions.

The room was dimly lit, the fire crackling softly in the background. The evening had settle dinto a quiet calm, with Glen sitting on the couch, his arm stretched across the backrest. Despite your best efforts to stay engaged in the chatter between Glen and his family, your eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment.

Cyndy and Leslie paused mid conversation when they noticed you were asleep. Your breathing was slow and even, your head nestled against Glen like it was the most natural thing in the world. Cyndy and Leslie exchanged a look, both already grinning.

“She’s so sweet,” Cyndy whispered, her voice barely above the crackling of the fire.

“And you’re adorable together,” Leslie added, leaning closer to her mom as if she were sharing a juicy secret.

Glen’s eyes flicked toward them, his lips tugging into a faint, knowing smirk. “We’re just friends,” he said, keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing you.

Leslie arched a brow. “Sure, you are,” she teased, crossing her arms. “Because friends totally look at each other like that.”

“What are you even talking about?” Glen asked, rolling his eyes, though his free hand instinctively adjusted the blanket draped over you, tucking it more securely around your shoulders. You stirred slightly, leaning into him more, and his arm moved without hesitation, wrapping lightly around you to keep you comfortable.

“Like that,” Leslie said pointedly, gesturing at him with a playful smirk.

Cyndy’s eyes were full of warmth as she added, “Leslie’s right, honey. It’s the way you look at her. Like she’s the only person in the room.”

Glen sighed, running a hand through your hair but careful not to jostle you. “I’ve thought about it,” he admitted softly, his gaze dropping to you as you slept peacefully against him. “Probably more than I should have.”

Leslie’s teasing grin shifted into genuine curiosity. “So what’s stopping you?”

“It’s not the right time,” Glen said, his voice low but thoughtful. “My schedule’s insane. The next six to eight months are booked solid with filming, press tours… I’d barely be around. Starting something with her when I know I don’t have the time to make it work or for it to be healthy? It doesn’t feel fair to her. Or to me.”

Cyndy tilted her head, her brows furrowed slightly. “But you’ve managed to keep your friendship going despite all that. You both make time for each other. If you were dating, it wouldn’t be that much different, would it?”

Leslie chimed in, “Exactly. You’ve already proven that you make her a priority, even with everything you’ve got going on. If you really like her—and it’s obvious you do—why not take the chance?”

Glen glanced down at you again, the flickering firelight casting a warm glow across your peaceful face. His arm tightened just slightly around you, as if the thought of letting you go, even metaphorically, was too hard to bear.

He didn’t respond right away, the weight of his family’s words settling in as he watched you. Maybe they had a point. But taking that leap still felt like a mountain he wasn’t sure he could climb—at least not yet.

“I’ll think about it,” he said finally, his voice soft and a little distant.

Leslie opened her mouth, ready to press him further, but Cyndy gave her a gentle nudge and a pointed look. “Let it go, Leslie,” she said quietly. “He’ll figure it out when he’s ready.”

As they turned to leave the room, Cyndy glanced back at Glen one more time, her expression full of motherly understanding. Glen caught her look, gave her a small, grateful nod, and then shifted slightly to settle more comfortably against the couch, his arm still securely around you.

For now, he decided, this moment was enough.

The warmth of the fire flickered softly, casting golden light across the room. Between the gentle crackle of the logs and the soothing rhythm of your breathing, Glen found himself starting to relax in a way he hadn’t in weeks. Your head rested against his shoulder, and the weight of it, combined with the soft rise and fall of your chest, brought an unexpected sense of peace.

Glen shifted slightly, careful not to disturb you, but the movement only made you nestle closer, your arm brushing against his. He glanced down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. The firelight danced in his eyes as his mind wandered, replaying his mom and Leslie’s words.

She’s sweet.

You’re adorable together.

What’s stopping you?

His gaze lingered on you, and a soft sigh escaped him. He knew what they meant. Knew how easy it would be to let himself fall. Maybe he already had.

The fire crackled again, pulling him from his thoughts. The room was growing quieter, the warmth enveloping him like a cocoon. His head tilted back slightly, his eyes growing heavier with each passing moment. Despite his best efforts to stay awake, the comfort of the moment proved too much.

It wasn’t long before Glen’s breathing matched yours, slow and steady, his chin dipping slightly toward his chest as sleep overtook him. The two of you sat there, heads close, his arm still loosely draped around you while the blanket kept you both warm.

Some time later, Cyndy padded softly into the living room, a smile spreading across her face as she took in the scene. You were still tucked against Glen, your hand now resting lightly against his chest. Glen’s head leaned toward yours, his features relaxed in a way only sleep could bring.

Cyndy stood there for a moment, her heart warming at the sight. She grabbed another blanket from the linen closet and approached quietly, careful not to wake either of you. With practiced ease, she draped it gently over both of you, tucking it around your shoulders before stepping back.

She turned to the fireplace, stoking the remaining embers and making sure it was safely extinguished. The room dimmed as she turned off the lights, leaving only the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains.

Before heading to bed, she paused once more, her gaze softening as she looked back at the two of you. A small, knowing smile played on her lips as she shook her head lightly, then whispered to herself, “Just friends, huh?”

With that, she turned and left the room, leaving you and Glen to rest peacefully in the quiet glow of the night.

*****

The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains, casting a faint glow across the living room. Glen stirred, his body shifting slightly against the couch cushion as he blinked groggily, trying to orient himself. His eyes felt heavy, and for a moment, he couldn’t figure out why he felt so warm.

He shifted again, feeling something—or rather, someone—pressed against him. He froze, his heart skipping a beat as he realized he wasn’t alone.

Looking down, he saw you curled into his side, your front pressed snugly against his chest, your legs tangled with his. One blanket was wrapped around you, tucked in as though you’d done it instinctively, and another—one he didn’t even remember grabbing—covered both of you. His arm was draped protectively around you, his hand resting lightly against your back.

Your breath was warm against his neck, soft and even, and he could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat where your chest touched his. The realization sent a jolt of awareness through him. How had this happened? The last thing he remembered was sitting upright, with you asleep on his shoulder.

He let his head fall back onto the couch for a moment, exhaling slowly as he tried to make sense of it. Well, this is... comfortable, he thought wryly, though he couldn’t deny the quiet peace that came with waking up next to you.

As his brain started to wake up, he rubbed at his eyes, his other arm instinctively tightening around you as you shifted slightly in your sleep, murmuring something he couldn’t quite make out.

The sound of soft footsteps made him glance toward the archway leading to the kitchen. His parents stood there, his mom holding a coffee mug while his dad held the morning paper.

Cyndy stopped mid-step when she saw the two of you, her lips curling into a knowing smile she didn’t even try to hide. Glen groaned quietly, his free hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he looked up at them.

His dad raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest as a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well, good morning,” his dad said, his tone amused. “Sleep well, son?”

Cyndy swatted his dad lightly on the arm but didn’t say anything, her smile widening as she looked between Glen and you.

Glen cleared his throat, his voice low and rough from sleep. “Morning,” he muttered, trying not to move too much and wake you.

Cyndy stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You looked so peaceful last night. I didn’t have the heart to wake you,” she said, her gaze warm and teasing.

Glen gave her a look, half-exasperated and half-grateful. “Thanks, Mom,” he murmured dryly, though there was no heat in his words.

“You should probably wake her before the others come down,” his dad added with a chuckle, nodding toward the stairs. “Don’t want to give Leslie too much ammunition.”

Glen sighed, his eyes flicking back to you. You were still sound asleep, your face relaxed and peaceful against him. His dad wasn’t wrong—Leslie would have a field day if she saw this.

“Yeah, I’ll handle it,” he said quietly, shifting slightly to try and rouse you without startling you.

Cyndy leaned closer to her husband as they turned to head back to the kitchen, her voice just loud enough for Glen to catch. “I think they’re adorable,” she whispered.

Glen groaned again, though he couldn’t quite hide the small smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at you, still nestled against him.

Glen sighed softly and glanced down at you, his heart doing an odd little flip at the sight of you so peaceful against him. For a moment, he hesitated, not wanting to disturb you. You looked so content, your face relaxed and framed by a strand of hair that had fallen loose.

But his dad was right—he needed to wake you before anyone else saw this and started making jokes he’d never live down.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle. He shifted slightly, his hand moving to lightly brush against your shoulder. “Time to wake up.”

You stirred faintly but didn’t open your eyes, your brows furrowing as you shifted closer, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The movement sent a wave of warmth rushing through him, and for a split second, he froze, unsure how to handle the sudden closeness.

“Come on,” he tried again, his voice soft and laced with a hint of amusement now. “You’re going to miss breakfast.”

This time, you let out a soft hum of protest, your voice barely audible as you mumbled, “Five more minutes...”

Glen couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Come on, you need to wake up before the others come downstairs.”

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, and it took you a moment to register where you were. When you finally looked up at him, still half-asleep, your cheeks flushed as the realization hit.

“Oh,” you said softly, your voice hoarse with sleep. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Glen cut in quickly, his tone reassuring.

Your eyes dropped to where his arm was still draped around you, and you slowly began to sit up, the blanket falling away as you shifted. Glen helped, his hand steadying you as you moved, though he couldn’t quite hide the slight reluctance he felt at the loss of warmth.

“I, uh... hope I wasn’t too heavy,” you said, brushing a hand through your hair as you tried to smooth it down.

Glen smirked, leaning back against the couch. “You’re fine. But you do steal blankets, apparently,” he teased, motioning to the second blanket draped over him.

You blinked, confused, then looked down at the blanket and frowned. “Wait, where did that even come from?”

“Mom,” he said simply, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. “She came in last night and covered us up. I think she wanted to make sure we didn’t freeze to death.”

Your cheeks reddened further, and you groaned softly, hiding your face in your hands. “Oh, great. So your mom saw us like that?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, reaching out to tug your hands away from your face, his smile softening. “She thought it was cute. So did Dad, for the record.”

“Wonderful,” you muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at your lips now.

Glen watched you for a moment before standing and stretching, his hand running through his hair as he glanced toward the kitchen. “Come on,” he said, offering you a hand. “Let’s get some coffee before Leslie sees us and decides to turn this into a running joke for the next decade.”

You laughed softly, taking his hand as he pulled you to your feet. His touch lingered for just a second longer than necessary before he let go, his gaze flicking to yours briefly before he led the way toward the kitchen.

As you and Glen walked into the kitchen, the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee hit you, immediately comforting in the way that only mornings at someone else's home could be. His parents were already seated at the island, sipping their own coffee, looking up with warm smiles as you entered.

“Good morning, you two,” his dad, Glen Sr., greeted with a grin, his voice low and warm.

“Morning,” you replied softly, moving to grab a mug from the cabinet. Glen’s mom, Cyndy, shot you a look, an almost mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked, her voice friendly, yet filled with a knowing edge.

You nodded, your face flushing again as you took a seat next to Glen. “Yeah, I did. Thanks for the extra blanket.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile. “I couldn’t have you freezing to death in here.” She paused, her eyes flicking between you and Glen for a moment. “Though, I must say, it was nice to see you both so cozy last night.”

Glen let out an exaggerated groan, shaking his head. “Mom, please.”

You chuckled softly, looking over at him, your hand wrapped around your mug of coffee. “It’s fine,” you said, offering a reassuring smile. “No harm done.”

His dad chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. “You’re lucky. I don’t see Glen like that much.”

“I bet,” you responded, teasing, taking a sip of your coffee. “I wouldn’t have guessed he’s such a softy.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Cyndy said with a wink, earning a playful nudge from her husband.

Glen rolled his eyes, then leaned back against the counter, his eyes flicking to you. “So, I was thinking we should head back to my place in a bit,” he said, casually stirring his coffee. “We’ll change clothes, then I’ll bring you back here. Sound good?”

You nodded, sipping your coffee again, grateful for the warmth in your hands. “That sounds perfect.”

Leslie walked in at that moment, still wearing her pajamas, her eyes narrowing in on you and Glen still in the clothes you had on yesterday. “Did you guys sleep here last night?”

Glen groaned again, clearly not ready for another round of teasing. “Leslie, please, not now.”

But Leslie was already grinning, turning to their parents. “They fell asleep and slept on the couch, didn’t they?”

“Mind your own business,” Glen said, his voice half-amused, half-annoyed, as he stood up from the counter. He shot a glance at you, his expression softening. “Alright, let’s go grab some things from my place.

As you and Glen walked toward the door, you could hear Leslie's voice rise from the kitchen, her tone laced with playful teasing.

"I mean, it’s so obvious," she said, her voice carrying easily to where you both were standing.

"I heard that, Leslie!" he called out, his voice a mix of annoyance and amusement. "Knock it off."

Leslie’s laugh echoed from the kitchen, followed by a muffled comment you couldn’t quite make out, though you were sure it was another jab at him.

Glen rolled his eyes and shook his head, but there was a softness to his expression when he looked at you. "Sorry about that," he said, his tone light. "She’s relentless."

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth in your chest at how natural this all felt. "It’s fine," you said, chuckling.

He held the door open for you, letting you step out first, his hand brushing against yours as you passed. The drive back to his place was quiet at first, the hum of the engine and the soft sounds of music on the radio filling the space between you. You found yourself glancing out the window, watching the suburbs of Austin pass by as the sun began to rise higher, casting a golden glow over everything.

Glen’s hand rested casually on the steering wheel, his fingers tapping lightly in rhythm with the beat of the song. Every now and then, he’d sneak a glance at you, a slight smile curling on his lips as if something was playing in his mind. You caught him once or twice, but neither of you said much, content to simply exist in the quiet comfort of each other’s company.

Finally, as you turned onto the street leading to his place, Glen broke the silence, his voice low but warm.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, glancing over at you, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “You’re not regretting agreeing to spend the holidays with my family, are you?”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s been… nice. Really nice, actually.”

He gave a small, satisfied nod, then pulled into the driveway of his house. As he parked, you both sat there for a moment, the truck gently rocking as the engine turned off.

As you both entered the house, the familiar warmth wrapped around you, making you feel at ease. Glen led the way toward the stairs, his movements easy, casual—like nothing had changed. But you couldn't ignore the shift, the quiet tension that seemed to have settled between you after spending the night curled up together. It wasn’t awkward, not exactly, but it was different. You both seemed a little more aware of each other than before.

"Bathroom's upstairs," Glen said, breaking the silence as he gestured to the staircase. "You can use the guest bathroom, and I'll take the one in my room."

You nodded, following him up the stairs. The house was quiet now, the early morning stillness hanging in the air. When you reached the top, you stopped briefly in front of the guest room. Glen was a few steps ahead of you, but you caught the way his gaze flickered to you for just a moment. His eyes lingered, and you felt the weight of it—the subtle shift you’d both sensed. He quickly looked away, his lips curling into a casual smile, but it wasn’t the same as before. There was something unspoken now, something you couldn’t quite name.

"Alright," Glen said, his voice a little softer than usual. "I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit. Take your time."

You hesitated for a second, feeling the strange pull between you, but nodded and stepped into the guest room. The door clicked shut behind you, and for a moment, you just stood there, the silence pressing in. It wasn’t uncomfortable—just different. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too, that quiet shift in the air, the one that had somehow made the space between you seem just a little smaller.

You shook your head, trying to push away the sudden thoughts swirling in your mind. This was still Glen—your friend. Nothing had changed, right?

But as you started to get ready for your shower, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had.

The hot water helped clear your head, and you focused on the simple task of washing off the sleep from your body. The shower was quick, just a few minutes of cleansing and letting the steam fill the space, but you didn’t want to take too long. Glen was probably already waiting, and you didn’t want to leave him hanging. You turned off the water, stepping out and grabbing the towel from the hook.

As you dried off, you realized your mistake. Your clothes were still in the guest room, neatly folded on the bed. You hadn’t thought that far ahead, assuming you’d just grab them when you finished. You sighed quietly to yourself, wrapping the towel securely around you, careful not to let it slip.

You checked yourself in the mirror for a moment, making sure everything was in place. Satisfied, you opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway, glancing toward the guest room. It felt strange walking across the house like this—towel-clad, with nothing but the soft padding of your bare feet on the floor to accompany you.

You moved as quickly as you could, trying not to draw attention to yourself, but the slight breeze of the air made you acutely aware of just how vulnerable you felt in the moment. When you reached the guest room, you took a quick glance down the hallway, just in case, before slipping inside and closing the door behind you.

You quickly pulled on the clothes you had set out, opting for something comfortable but still presentable. After slipping on a soft sweater and a pair of jeans, you grabbed the brush and ran it through your damp hair. You added a little product, hoping it would hold up for the day, but you didn’t want to stress too much about it. After all, you were just heading downstairs with Glen—nothing too formal.

You took a deep breath and made your way toward the door, hoping the day would continue as smoothly as possible. But as you stepped out of the guest room, you nearly collided with Glen. He was just emerging from his room, his shirt still in his hand, his chest and abs exposed in the moment before he pulled it on. His muscles were defined, his skin still warm from the shower, and you found your gaze involuntarily drifting down for just a moment.

You quickly snapped your eyes away, trying to ignore the rush of heat that flushed your face. You gave a nervous smile, your heart thudding in your chest, and practically rushed past him. Your steps were quick, almost too quick as you hurried down the stairs, praying to some higher power that Glen hadn’t noticed your lingering glance.

The sound of his footsteps following behind you reassured you that he wasn’t focusing on the moment. You let out a quiet breath, hoping you could push the moment from your mind and keep everything normal.

"So, what do you think? Want to hang out here for a bit? Enjoy the quiet before we head back to the chaos?" he asked, his voice casual, but there was an unspoken invitation in his words.

You glanced toward the living room. The cozy, inviting space was practically calling out to you. The thought of staying here, just the two of you, no teasing, no distractions. The idea of getting alone time with Glen was tempting.

But as you stood there, a tug of guilt gnawed at you. You could already picture Glen, laughing and joking with his family, enjoying moments that he didn’t get to have often due to his hectic schedule. He didn’t get much time with them, and you knew that all too well. The last thing you wanted to do was take him away from that, especially when you knew how much he cherished it.

You had more time with him than they did. You saw him regularly, had long conversations over coffee, shared lazy afternoons together on his days off. They were lucky to have him home, and you didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on these rare moments.

The thought of staying here, just the two of you, was appealing, yes—but not at the expense of his family. You didn’t want to be selfish. They didn’t have the luxury of seeing him every day, and you knew that if you stayed, it would be taking away from that time they had.

Finally, you shook your head slightly, offering him a small, apologetic smile. "I think I’d rather head back over," you said, trying to push aside the selfish urge to keep him all to yourself. "You don’t get to see them much, and I don’t want to take that away from you." With a final glance at the quiet room around you, you gave Glen a small smile. "Shall we?" you asked, your voice light, trying to push the lingering tension aside.

He nodded, his smile softening, understanding exactly what you meant. "Yeah, let’s go."

As you followed him to the door, the weight of the quiet moments you shared earlier in the day seemed to hang in the air, but there was something comforting in it. A subtle shift, one you couldn’t quite put your finger on but couldn’t ignore either.

The cool air greeted you as you stepped outside, and the drive back to his parents' house was peaceful, the car filled only with the sound of the engine and the faint rustling of the wind. You both had your own thoughts, but the comfortable silence made it feel like there was no need to fill the space.

When you pulled up to the house again, the familiar warmth of the lights shining from the windows seemed inviting. Glen turned to you before you opened the door, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. "Thanks for letting me have so much time with them" he said quietly, his voice sincere. "I appreciate you understanding."

You smiled at him, a quiet understanding between you that didn’t need words. "Of course, I know how important they are to you," you replied, giving him a look that was just as much reassurance as it was a soft acknowledgment of the unspoken bond you shared. And with that, the two of you stepped out of the car, ready to head back inside, where the sounds of family laughter awaited.

* * * * *

The warm scent of cookies filled the kitchen as you worked alongside Cyndy, Lauren, and Leslie, mixing dough and rolling it into perfect little balls. The rhythm of your hands, the soft scrape of the spatula against the bowl, was comforting. The kitchen was a cozy flurry of flour, sugar, and laughter.

As you moved the dough onto the baking sheets, the sounds of laughter echoed from the living room. Glen’s voice was unmistakable, full of warmth and joy, accompanied by the high-pitched giggles of the twins. You couldn’t help but smile, a soft chuckle escaping you as you glanced up.

“Seems like he’s a fun uncle,” you commented, rolling the dough into another ball.

Cyndy and Leslie shared a knowing look before Leslie grinned. "Oh, he’s the favorite uncle, hands down," she said, shaking her head with a teasing smile. “I mean, he’s practically a big kid himself when they’re around.”

You laughed, imagining Glen’s easygoing nature blending perfectly with the chaos and energy of his niece and nephew. It was clear that they adored him.

Lauren continued, her tone light and affectionate. “I think the twins might actually think of him as their second dad sometimes. He spoils them rotten."

After a few moments, Glen appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath but grinning from ear to ear, his hair a bit messy from wrestling with the twins. His cheeks were flushed from the fun, but as soon as his eyes found the cooling rack of freshly baked cookies, he couldn’t resist. He made his way toward it, trying to sneak a cookie without anyone noticing.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you saw his move. You grabbed the spatula from the counter and, with a quick swipe, playfully swatted at him.

“Don’t even think about it,” you teased, but before you could even get close, Glen’s hand shot out to grab your wrist, stopping the spatula mid-air.

He chuckled, his grip gentle but firm, his fingers brushing against your skin in the briefest of moments. His gaze locked with yours, and for a second, the playful banter seemed to fade as the space between you both felt charged with something a little different.

“Really?” Glen raised an eyebrow, his voice soft with amusement.

You laughed, trying to pull your wrist free, but his hand stayed in place, still holding you with a steady but warm grip. “They aren’t ready yet,” you said, laughing as you tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

The laughter from Cyndy and Leslie behind you broke the moment, and you both turned, noticing their amused expressions.

“Are we interrupting something?” Cyndy asked with a teasing smile.

Leslie, barely containing a grin, raised an eyebrow. “You two are really cute together, you know that?”

You shot her a playful glare, but Glen gave a sheepish chuckle, releasing your wrist and straightening up. “We're just friends,” he said with a lighthearted shrug, though the hint of something unspoken lingered in his tone. “But I am taking one of these cookies.”

Before you could respond, Glen grabbed a cookie from the cooling rack with a victorious grin. You rolled your eyes in mock exasperation as he happily bit into the cookie, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you said, shaking your head with a smile.

Cyndy and Leslie exchanged a knowing glance, but neither said anything else, letting the moment hang in the air between you two, filled with warmth and an undeniable connection.

Lauren gave Glen a mischievous grin and, without warning, tossed a small pinch of flour in his direction. The flour puffed up in the air, and Glen let out a surprised laugh, his hands immediately going to his hair and face to brush it away.

“Hey!” Glen laughed, glancing around at the chaos unfolding. “You’re going down for that!”

In an instant, the flour fight was on. Leslie, quick on the draw, took the opportunity to sprinkle flour over Glen’s shoulder. He retaliated with a handful of flour that he flung in her direction, his aim slightly off, hitting the edge of the counter instead. You couldn't help but laugh, your hands covered in flour as you tried to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

Glen shot you a playful look, and before you could duck out of his reach, he tossed a small pinch of flour at you. It landed right on your nose, and you gasped in mock horror.

“Oh, it's on now,” you said, wiping at your nose. “You’re going to pay for that one.”

The kitchen erupted in more laughter as flour and frosting flew between the family members, and before long, the "fight" ended just as quickly as it started, with everyone covered in flour and sugar but still grinning from ear to ear.

You went to wipe the frosting off your cheek, but as your finger brushed over it, you only seemed to smear it further. Glen, watching you with a teasing smile, leaned in slightly, his gaze softening as he shook his head. “You’re just making it worse.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Got a better idea?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just reached for the kitchen towel. His fingers brushed against your chin as he gently took your face in his hands, tilting your head slightly to get a better angle. His thumb carefully wiped away the frosting from your cheek, and you held your breath, caught in the moment, his touch gentle and thoughtful.

“There,” Glen said softly, his eyes still focused on your face. “All better.”

You met his gaze for a moment, feeling something stir inside you. His hand lingered just a little longer than necessary before he dropped it to his side, giving you a sheepish smile.

Glen’s mom, Cyndy, appeared in the doorway, holding a broom in one hand and a Swiffer in the other. She surveyed the flour-coated kitchen with an amused smile, shaking her head at the mess.

“Start cleaning this up, Glen,” she said with a grin, holding out the broom to him.

Glen, still wiping frosting from his hands, gave her a mock salute. “Yes ma’am,” he replied, his voice teasing as he took the broom from her with a sigh.

Cyndy smiled and turned back to the counter, the familiar, easy banter filling the air. “I swear, uou start a food fight every time we bake cookies around here.”

“Hey, I didn’t start it. I was just defending myself,” Glen shot back, sweeping a pile of flour into the dustpan with care.

You glanced over at Glen, a grin tugging at your lips. It was hard not to notice how much he resembled his mom in that moment—easygoing, playful, and always the one tasked with cleaning up after the fun.

“Don’t look so smug, you’ve got your own work to do,” he teased, gesturing at the counter where the remaining cookie dough sat ready to be rolled.

You just laughed and walked over to help Cyndy and Leslie, trying to distract yourself from the small, fleeting moment you’d just shared with Glen.

The kitchen felt warm with laughter and good company as you all continued to work together, and for a moment, everything seemed perfectly in place. Glen was hard at work, and you were right where you wanted to be—with the people who mattered most to him, helping make new memories.

After the cookies were finished and the kitchen was tidied up, the festive energy of the day shifted to the living room, where the Christmas tree stood, waiting to be transformed. Glen’s mom, Cyndy, had made it clear—no tree decorating until everyone, including Glen was home. So, even though Christmas Eve had arrived, the tree still sat untouched, its branches bare, twinkling lights tangled in a mess of cords.

You and Glen made your way to the storage tote, ready to tackle the daunting task of untangling the lights. Glen grinned as he opened the lid, revealing the well-loved decorations inside. "Every year, this takes longer than it should," he muttered, already pulling out a jumble of strings.

"At least you’re here to help now," you teased, grabbing a section of lights and trying to work through the knots. "I’m sure your family appreciates that."

Glen shot you a playful look as he started to untangle his own section. "Yeah, yeah, they know I’m the official light untangler. No one else can be trusted with this responsibility."

You both worked together, your laughter and conversation mixing with the sounds of his sisters in the living room. Cyndy and Leslie were busy sorting through the assortment of ornaments, laying them out in neat piles to be hung on the tree. The occasional clink of glass and soft chatter filled the space as they talked about the best places to hang each ornament.

The mood was lighthearted, and there was a cozy comfort in the room as the tree slowly started to take shape. You glanced over at Glen, catching the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes as he struggled with a particularly stubborn knot.

"Need help there?" you asked with a smirk, leaning closer.

"Nope, I’ve got it," he replied, his voice teasing but also faintly apologetic. "I’m a professional at this by now."

As he worked on the tangled mess, you couldn’t help but notice how the sight of him—focused and determined, yet still making light of the situation—made your heart flutter in a way that was different from before. You shook it off quickly, telling yourself it was just the holiday spirit getting to you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of struggling with knots and wires, the lights were untangled. You plugged them in to make sure they worked, and sure enough, the tree lit up with a soft glow, casting a warm, comforting light on the room.

Cyndy clapped her hands together with excitement. "Alright, now the fun part! Everyone grab an ornament, let’s make this tree sparkle."

Glen’s sisters eagerly began pulling their favorite ornaments from the piles, each one carefully examined before being placed on the branches. Glen handed you an ornament with a small grin. "I think this one’s for you," he said, handing you a glass star ornament that had a delicate silver shimmer.

As the tree filled with decorations, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of the moment. It was peaceful and festive, and even with the occasional playful jab from one of Glen’s sisters, you couldn’t deny that it felt right.

Glen stepped back for a moment, surveying the tree as the last few ornaments were added. He gave you a soft smile, and you both exchanged a quiet moment before returning to finish the final touches.

As the final ornaments were being placed, the room seemed to hum with festive energy. The tree was almost done, with the soft glow of the lights reflecting off the glass baubles and tinsel. You stepped back to admire the view when Cyndy, holding the delicate star topper, made her way toward you.

"Here," she said with a warm smile, holding it out to you. "I think you should be the one to put the star on top. After all, you're the special guest this year."

You immediately felt a slight panic. "Oh, no, no, someone in the family should do it," you said, shaking your head, trying to pass the ornament back to her. "This is your tradition."

But Cyndy, always insistent, simply raised an eyebrow and gave you a playful smile. "You’re part of the family now," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. 

Before you could protest any further, Cyndy shot a glance over at Glen, who was leaning casually against the wall, watching with a smile. "Glen, help her up."

Glen’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he moved toward you. "You heard her," he teased, holding out a hand. "Up you go."

You gave him an incredulous look, but there was no backing out now. Glen bent down slightly, motioning for you to climb onto his shoulders. With a deep breath, you carefully moved onto his broad shoulders. Glen straightened up, your legs now on either side of his neck, and you were perched on his shoulders, a little wobbly at first, but he steadied you easily.

"Alright, ready?" he asked, his voice close to your ear, making you feel a little more unsteady than you had been just moments ago.

You nodded, and Glen slowly straightened his back, lifting you higher so you could reach the top of the tree.

With his support, you leaned over carefully, stretching just enough to place the star on top of the tree. You could feel his arms beneath your legs, his grip steady as he held you in place. As you aligned the cord with the top strand of lights, the star clicked into place, and the top of the tree lit up with a soft, radiant glow.

The room seemed to pause for a moment, everyone looking up at the tree as the star twinkled brightly, casting a warm glow over the entire room. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of pride and contentment as you admired the result.

"Perfect," Cyndy said, her voice filled with approval. "It’s beautiful."

As Glen slowly lowered you back to the ground, his hands slid to your waist, steadying you as you regained your footing. You both stood there for a moment, a shared silence settling over you as you looked up at the tree. The lights glowed softly, casting a gentle warmth over the room, and the star at the top shone brilliantly.

The atmosphere was calm, peaceful. You couldn’t help but feel a small flutter in your chest as you stood close to Glen, the warmth of his hands still lingering on your hips. It wasn’t anything overt, just a quiet moment where the connection between the two of you felt more real than ever. The world around you seemed to fade away for a second, leaving only the soft hum of the Christmas tree lights and the quiet of the room.

You both stood there for what felt like an eternity, neither of you saying a word. The only sounds were the soft crackle of the fire in the background and the distant laughter from the others. And then, without warning, Glen seemed to notice the looks from the corner of his eye. Leslie and Lauren were standing at the other side of the room, their eyes fixed on the two of you, their smiles too knowing for Glen’s liking.

Caught in the moment, Glen quickly pulled his hands from your sides, his fingers brushing against your skin just enough to send a small shiver down your spine. He cleared his throat and turned toward the others, trying to act nonchalant.

“Alright, alright,” he said, chuckling awkwardly.

Leslie grinned and gave him a playful wink, but it was Lauren’s knowing smile that lingered in your mind. You and Glen shared a fleeting glance before you both turned to rejoin the others, the moment still hanging between you two.

* * * * *

Later that evening, after the lively chaos of dinner had settled, you found yourself stepping out onto the deck of Glen’s house. The crisp air of the winter evening wrapped around you as you leaned against the railing, a cup of warm tea cradled in your hands. The steam curled up into the cool night, and the soft hum of the distant streetlights was the only sound you could hear. It was a peaceful contrast to the laughter and chatter that had filled the house earlier, and you welcomed the solitude.

As you sipped from your cup, your thoughts drifted back to the night’s events. Glen’s family had been warm and welcoming, and though you could see how much they all cared for him, you couldn’t help but notice the way Cyndy had spoken earlier. It lingered in your mind, that softness in her eyes when she spoke of how much happier Glen seemed since you arrived. It made your chest feel tight, both in a comforting and nerve-wracking way.

The door behind you creaked open, and you turned just as Glen stepped onto the deck. He moved toward you with that familiar easy stride of his, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. For a moment, he stood beside you, silent, just taking in the night air with you. The way the soft glow of the house lights reflected off his features made him seem almost impossibly handsome in the moment.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and gentle, as if he knew that his family’s energy could be overwhelming at times. “I know they can be a lot.”

You offered him a soft smile and took another sip of tea, the warmth of the cup soothing against your palms. “I’m enjoying myself, really,” you assured him. “Your family’s great. It’s just... nice to have a little peace and quiet for a moment after everything today, you know?”

Glen gave a small, understanding nod, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. The comfortable silence stretched between you both, but then, as if on cue, a gust of cool air swept across the deck. You couldn’t help but shiver slightly, the chill catching you off guard.

Before you could react, you felt a warmth at your shoulders. Glen’s arm wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer to him, the solid feel of his presence comforting against the cool night. His touch, the gentle weight of his arm around you, made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. It felt natural, like he was just trying to make sure you were okay—but there was something else there, something unspoken that hummed beneath the surface.

For a brief moment, you thought he might lean in, maybe say something that would break the quiet tension between you. But he didn’t. He just stood there, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, but not close enough to cross that invisible line.

The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence where two people simply existed in each other’s presence, the world around them fading away. Still, something about the stillness between you and Glen made you aware of the subtle shift in the air. You glanced up at him, catching the thoughtful, almost distant expression on his face.

“You okay?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. There was something in his demeanor that made you wonder if something was on his mind, maybe something he wasn’t sharing. He seemed more serious now, the playfulness from earlier replaced by a quiet vulnerability you couldn’t quite place.

Glen turned his head to look at you, blinking as if he had been lost in thought, and then he let out a low chuckle, brushing it off. “You don’t want to know,” he said, his voice light but guarded, as if the answer to your question was something he wasn’t sure he wanted to share.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful grin curling on your lips. “Try me.”

His gaze flickered to yours, and for a second, you could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. It was a small thing, but it was there—a brief moment of vulnerability that he quickly masked with a deep breath. He didn’t say anything at first, just looking out at the dark sky, the stars twinkling above.

“I’m just…” He trailed off, then ran a hand through his hair, clearly unsure of how to continue. “I don’t know. Just... thinking about how much things have changed recently.” Glen sighed again, letting out a breath like he was releasing something heavy. “I guess... it’s just been a lot. Work, family... and now you. It’s all good stuff, but it’s a lot to juggle sometimes, you know?” He paused, his words becoming slower as if he were processing something in real-time. “I don’t want to mess things up. With my family, with you...”

The air between you and Glen felt thick with unspoken things, so you did the only thing that felt natural. You shifted slightly, closing the space between you until you were pressed against his chest. Instantly, his arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you in, and you rested your head just beneath his chin, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath against you.

For a brief, fleeting moment, you thought you might’ve felt something—something soft and sweet, maybe even a kiss. But when you lifted your head to look up at him, you realized it wasn’t that at all. He’d just rested his chin on the top of your head, his touch warm and gentle, like a quiet reassurance that you didn’t know you needed until now.

You pulled back a fraction, just enough to tilt your head and meet his eyes. Your fingers brushed against his chest lightly as you took a breath, wanting to say something—anything—that would keep this moment from slipping away.

“You couldn’t possibly mess things up with me,” you assured him, your voice steady but filled with a quiet confidence. You didn’t know why you said it, but you meant it. The last thing you wanted was for Glen to feel like he was doing anything wrong by simply being himself.

Glen laughed softly, though it was a little unsure. “Don’t be so sure about that,” he teased, his voice still carrying that hint of vulnerability beneath the humor. He didn’t let go of you, though—his hands resting lightly on your shoulders, almost like he was grounding himself to you in this moment.

You couldn't help but smile at the mix of playfulness and seriousness in his tone. It was typical of him—strong and self-assured, yet still somehow uncertain when it came to matters of the heart. But the way he was holding you, the way his arms had wrapped around you so naturally—it told you everything you needed to know.

“You’re not as big a mess as you think you are, Glen,” you said, your voice soft, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “At least not when it comes to me.”

Glen smiled back at you, the warmth of it reaching his eyes. The distance between you two, both physically and emotionally, was narrowing with every second.

Another breeze stirred the air, cool against your skin. It caught a strand of your hair, whipping it across your face. You instinctively reached up to brush it away, but before your hand could meet your face, Glen shifted. His fingers grazed your cheek softly, his touch warm as he gently tucked the errant strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered there, resting along your jaw for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

You looked up at him, and in that moment, the world seemed to slow down. His eyes, dark and unreadable, met yours, searching, almost like he was wondering what you were thinking—if you were feeling the same pull he was. His breath caught slightly, the air thick with everything unsaid between you two.

For a long, fragile moment, you were certain neither of you wanted to break the connection, but it was like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Glen’s fingers lingered on your face, his touch almost electric, and you could feel the heat rising between you.

He parted his lips like he was about to say something—anything—but then stopped. Something held him back, that same hesitation that had kept him quiet, kept him at a distance all evening. His breath faltered, but you could tell he was fighting himself.

The words left you before you could even think twice about them. Soft, barely a whisper, just enough for him to hear: “Kiss me.”

You weren’t sure if he caught it at first. It was so quiet, almost too soft for him to hear. If he didn’t want to, he could easily dismiss it, pretend he hadn’t heard and let the moment pass. The uncertainty and the weight of the words hung between you, like a fragile thread.

But then Glen’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, and the gesture was enough to make your heart race. Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was soft but full of promise. There was no hesitation now, no second-guessing.

The world melted away, and all that remained was the warmth of his mouth, the sweetness of his breath mingling with yours

The world melted away, and all that remained was the warmth of his mouth, the sweetness of his breath mingling with yours. You could taste the hint of his cologne, feel the heat radiating off his skin as his lips gently moved against yours, a quiet but insistent promise.

You reached up, your hands trembling slightly, and grabbed onto the fabric of his shirt, as if grounding yourself in this moment. His touch was everything—strong, steady, and a little desperate, like he was holding on to something precious. One hand found its way to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he gently pulled you closer, his lips urging yours to open. The soft pressure was almost a question, and you answered it without hesitation, your lips parting as his tongue slid in, exploring you with slow, deliberate movements.

The kiss deepened, and everything else faded. His free hand moved to your waist, pulling you against him, making you feel the undeniable heat of his body. The way he held you tightly, possessively, ignited a spark inside you that set your skin on fire. You felt every inch of him, the strength in his arms, the warmth of his chest pressed against yours, his heart racing in time with yours.

Without breaking the kiss, he gently pushed you back, guiding you until you were pinned between his solid body and the railing behind you. You could feel the cool metal against your back, the contrast of it to the heat radiating from him, but it only made the moment more intense, more real.

His mouth never left yours, and you were lost in it—lost in the way he kissed you, in the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in that instant. His tongue moved against yours, a slow, sensual dance that sent shivers down your spine. He was patient but relentless, as if he couldn't get close enough, as if he wanted to drown in this feeling, in the taste of you.

For a moment, you lost yourself completely in him. The kiss became everything—the way his lips molded to yours, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and the deep, almost desperate need that surged between you. It was as if nothing else in the world existed but the two of you.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to let you both catch your breath, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged. He didn't let go, his hands still on your waist, his body so close you could feel the warmth of him seeping into you. His eyes searched yours, almost like he was asking for permission, or maybe trying to figure out what this meant.

Glen took a slow, deliberate step back, his hands lingering for just a second longer than necessary on your waist, as if reluctant to let go. His gaze locked with yours, still heavy with unspoken words and that same intensity that hung thick in the air. His lips parted slightly, as if he might say something, but the moment lingered—unsaid, just like everything else that had passed between you two.

He reached down, his fingers brushing against yours, and when he grasped your hand, it felt grounding, but at the same time, like a promise. He gently pulled you inside, his touch still warm against your skin, the heat from the kiss still lingering between you.

You stepped closer to him, his hand never leaving yours, and the world outside seemed to fade away once more. The air was different inside—charged in a way that made everything feel more intimate, more real. Glen glanced at you over his shoulder, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eyes dark with something unreadable, something that only added to the tension building between you.

And then, with a quiet, almost playful tug, he led you further into the house, closing the door softly behind you. 

* * * * *

You stirred slowly, the warmth of the bed and the soft, rhythmic press of Glen’s lips against your shoulder coaxing you out of sleep. His gentle kisses trailed up to your collarbones, each one sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. The sensation was soft, tender—like he was savoring the moment, as if he didn’t want to break the stillness of the morning.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, your eyes fluttering open just enough to catch the sight of him—his face only inches from your skin, eyes closed in quiet reverence. His arm tightened around you, pulling you closer as though you were the only thing anchoring him to this moment. It felt so natural, so right, that you could almost forget it was Christmas morning.

With a soft sigh, you rolled onto your back, the bed creaking slightly as you shifted. You turned your head, your gaze meeting his. He hadn’t noticed you were awake, his lips still lightly grazing your skin, his breath warm against your neck.

A small, sleepy smile tugged at the corners of your lips, unable to hide the happiness bubbling up inside you. It was a moment of peace, of simplicity, and you knew it was one you’d carry with you for a long time.

When Glen finally met your eyes, his expression softened, a quiet tenderness in his gaze that made your heart flutter in your chest. He leaned in again, pressing a kiss to your lips, brief but full of meaning. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, his voice low and rough from sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered back, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek, the moment feeling so intimate, so perfect.

Just as you were starting to drift back into the peaceful warmth of the moment, Glen’s phone rang, breaking the silence. He groaned and reached for it, clearly annoyed by the interruption. "Not now," he muttered, glancing at the screen and seeing it was Leslie calling.

"Seriously?" you teased, raising an eyebrow. "She can’t let us have five more minutes?"

Glen chuckled, though it was laced with mock frustration. "Guess not. She probably wants us to hurry up and join the rest of the chaos." He answered the call and put it on speaker, letting out another groan. "Leslie, it’s Christmas morning, cut me some slack."

You heard her voice, cheerful but insistent. "Yeah, I know, but you need to get over here! We’re all waiting for you to start the presents."

Glen rubbed a hand over his face, looking over at you with a grin. "Alright, alright. We’ll get up and head right over."

But Leslie, ever the sharp one, picked up on the tone in his voice. "Wait a second," she said with a teasing smirk in her voice. "You said ‘we’ll’ get up? So that means... you’re both still in bed?"

You felt Glen stiffen, his eyes locking onto yours as the corners of his mouth twitched. Before he could respond, Leslie continued, sounding far too smug for 8 AM. "And she’s with you, huh? In your room?"

Glen groaned dramatically, putting a hand to his forehead. "Leslie, it’s too early for this," he muttered, clearly embarrassed by the line of questioning.

Leslie wasn’t letting up, though. "Oh, I get it," she said in a sing-song voice, a little too amused for her own good. "I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’"

Glen looked at you, mouthing, "I’m gonna kill her."

He sighed, sitting up on the bed, clearly trying to change the subject. "Okay, okay. We’ll be over soon, alright? Stop prying."

"Sure, sure. Just don’t take too long, or I might have to send Mom in there to drag you both out," Leslie teased before hanging up with a cheerful goodbye.

Glen, still looking mildly exasperated, dropped the phone onto the bed. He laughed and leaned back against the headboard, stretching his arms over his head. "Alright, guess we should get up and face the madness."

You and Glen exchanged sleepy smiles as you both began to rise from the bed. Glen stretched his arms overhead, letting out a long yawn, before he slipped on his slippers and headed toward the bathroom. You turned toward the guest room, mentally running through the few things you had to do to get ready for the day.

As you dressed, you couldn't help but replay last night in your head—the kiss, the closeness, the way it felt like the world had just slipped away, leaving only the two of you. But now, in the cold light of morning, you couldn’t shake the uncertainty that lingered. What did it mean? What were you to Glen after everything that had happened? Your heart raced as the thought crossed your mind. Was this something you were supposed to talk about? Or would it be just another fleeting moment, like so many others in the past?

You finished getting dressed, smoothing your shirt and running your fingers through your hair, trying to calm the nerves that had appeared out of nowhere. When you stepped out of the guest room, you found Glen already ready, his jacket on and his keys in hand. He was standing by the door, waiting for you.

He gave you a soft smile when he saw you. "Ready?" he asked, his voice warm but with an edge of hesitation that matched how you were feeling.

You nodded, trying to brush off the unease. "Yeah.”

You followed him to the truck, your mind still racing with questions. The drive was quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. As you passed the familiar landmarks, your eyes wandered to Glen, who was focused on the road. You wanted to ask him everything, to know where the two of you stood after everything, but you didn’t want to make things awkward.

Finally, Glen broke the silence. “I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice steady but quiet. He glanced at you for a moment before turning his focus back to the road. “About last night. About us.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?” you prompted softly, unsure of where he was going with this.

He let out a breath, his lips curving into a faint, almost self-conscious smile. “Look, I know my life isn’t exactly… simple. My schedule is a mess, and I’m gone a lot. I don’t want to pretend like that’s not going to be a challenge. But,” he paused, his voice growing more certain, “I want to see where this goes. With you. If you’re willing to, that is.”

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. You could hear the nervous edge in his voice, the way he shifted slightly in his seat like he wasn’t sure how you’d respond.

You let the weight of his words settle over you before you replied. “I’m willing to,” you said, your voice soft but sure. “I wouldn’t have let last night happen if I wasn’t.”

A flicker of relief crossed his face, and he smiled—an honest, open kind of smile that made your chest feel warm. He reached over, his hand finding yours where it rested on your lap. His touch was gentle but firm, like he was grounding himself in this moment.

“Okay,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly against the back of your hand. “Then we’ll figure it out. Whatever it takes.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart lighter now, but the lingering uncertainty still hung between you. “So, what do we do about your family?” you asked, tilting your head toward him. “Do we tell them, or…?”

He sighed, his lips quirking in a wry smile. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, his mind clearly turning over the possibilities. “Part of me thinks it’s better to just get it out there. But another part of me… I don’t want to make today about us when it’s supposed to be about family.”

You nodded, understanding his hesitation. “We don’t have to decide right now,” you offered. “Let’s just see how the day goes.”

Glen smiled again, his gaze soft as it flicked toward you. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

The rest of the drive was filled with a sense of quiet anticipation, the air between you lighter now but still charged with the potential of what was to come. Glen didn’t let go of your hand the entire way, and you couldn’t help but feel that, no matter what, the two of you were in this together.

Glen stepped inside first, his hand still firmly clasping yours as he guided you over the threshold. The sound of laughter and conversation spilled from the living room, filling the house with the unmistakable hum of family.

Glen paused just inside the door, turning to face you. His hand lingered in yours for a moment before he gently released it, reaching instead to help you shrug off your coat. His fingertips brushed lightly against your arms as he slid the thick material off your shoulders. You glanced up at him, catching the faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Thanks," you murmured, offering him a small smile of your own as he hung your coat on the nearby rack.

He gave a slight nod. "Anytime," he replied, his voice low and quiet, just for you.

With that, you made your way toward the living room, Glen trailing close behind. The sight that greeted you was as welcoming as the sounds and smells: his entire family gathered around the tree, mugs of steaming coffee and hot cocoa in hand, their laughter blending with the soft crackle of the fireplace.

"Well, there they are!" Leslie called out, her grin widening as she spotted the two of you.

At her words, all eyes turned to you and Glen. You felt a momentary flush of warmth—not from embarrassment, but from the sheer warmth of the welcome in their gazes. Glen’s mom was the first to rise, crossing the room to pull you into a gentle hug.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” she said, her voice as soft and kind as ever.

“Merry Christmas,” you replied, smiling as you returned the hug.

Glen hung back for a moment, his gaze sweeping over his family before it landed back on you. When his mom released you, he stepped forward to exchange his own hugs and greetings, his presence grounding you in the lively room.

As you settled into the living room, Leslie’s sharp eyes darted between you and Glen, a knowing glint lighting her expression. “You two look cozy,” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Glen shot her a warning look but didn’t rise to her bait. Instead, he placed a steadying hand on your back as he guided you toward an empty spot on the couch. “It’s still too early for your commentary, Les,” he said dryly, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly as you sat down, feeling Glen’s hand linger for just a moment longer than necessary before he joined you. The family resumed their chatter, and you felt yourself relax into the warmth of the room and the easy dynamic Glen had with his family.

There was an unspoken understanding between you and Glen as the morning unfolded. Whatever the day might bring, you were in this together, and that made everything—his teasing siblings, the bustling energy, the unrelenting sense of closeness—feel a little less overwhelming and a lot more like home.

The morning carried on with a joyous rhythm, the room buzzing with laughter and the crinkling of wrapping paper as Glen’s mom began handing out gifts from beneath the tree. One by one, brightly wrapped packages found their way into eager hands, and the sound of tearing paper soon filled the room.

You found yourself nestled comfortably on the couch beside Glen, warmth radiating from his side. At some point, almost without thinking, you leaned into him, resting your head lightly on his shoulder. His arm instinctively came up to wrap around you, pulling you just a little closer.

The moment felt effortless, like breathing, and you let yourself savor the comfort of it.

Unfortunately, it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Ohhh, would you look at that?” Leslie’s voice rang out, her tone dripping with mischief.

Your head snapped up, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you realized all eyes were now on you and Glen. His parents exchanged exaggerated grins while his older sister’s gaze softened with a mix of joy and curiosity.

“Well, this is new,” somebody teased.

Glen let out a long-suffering groan, running a hand over his face. “Can we not make this a thing?” he muttered, though there was no real heat in his voice.

Leslie was undeterred, her grin widening as she leaned forward. “Oh, no, this is absolutely a thing. Care to share with the group, Glen?”

He sighed, glancing at you. The flush on your cheeks deepened, but there was no judgment or pressure in his expression—only quiet reassurance.

Finally, he turned back to his family, his shoulders squaring as if bracing himself. “Fine. Yes, we’re… seeing where things go,” he admitted, his voice steady but soft. “And that’s all you’re getting out of me right now.”

His mom clasped her hands together, her face lighting up like the tree behind her. “Oh, Glen,” she said warmly, her joy unmistakable.

The teasing and comments came in waves after that, a mix of playful ribbing and heartfelt congratulations. You felt your face grow impossibly warm, but Glen’s arm around you tightened, grounding you.

Eventually, Glen turned to his family with a pointed look. “Okay, you’ve had your fun. Can we get back to the presents now?”

Leslie laughed but relented, reaching for another package beneath the tree. As the room shifted back to its lively rhythm, Glen leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear.

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

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Are you?”

His eyes softened, and he gave a slight nod. “Yeah.”

And as the morning carried on, the lively chatter and laughter of his family surrounded you, filling the room with warmth. Glen’s arm stayed comfortably around you, an anchor amidst the joyful chaos. For the first time in a long time, you felt at ease—like you belonged, not just in this house but at his side.

Whatever this was, whatever it might become, one thing was clear: this was the beginning of something worth holding onto.

[pdid-culture-is]

PDID (caretaker) alter culture is trying to take care of us and help the host out, but in the end having no real power to make him do things because no one else can every really be in control so it's more of a suggestion than anything else and you have to hope the host listens

[anisespice]

“ PARTY AT A RICH DUDE’S HOUSE ”

synopsis: after getting dumped, your friends propose you crash his house-party and completely wreck the place using the guise of the rambunctious partygoers as cover. little did you know, someone's been watching you.

warnings: mature language, mentions of violence, vandalism, suggestive undertones, MDI. tesla slander(?) hate those cars so so so much. i honestly don't know, i think this one's pretty tame :))

notes: kesha lives rent free in my head lol. also got inspired by that scene from the movie “bottoms” where they blow up the douchbag’s car >:))) not sure how i feel about it :// but it was fun to write helped with writer's block sooo hope you enjoy!!

notes ii: yall WHY WON'T WORDS WORD ANYMORE I-

It wasn’t difficult infiltrating the party. With all the commotion pouring inside and out, people taking full advantage of their host’s endless bounds of resources and bottomless pockets, blending in was a snap. Immediately, your senses were overwhelmed with the stench of sweat and bad decisions. Smoke clouded your vision as did the rumbling bass of the music, the music rattling you to where you could feel it in your bones.

An annoyance builds every time a partygoer bumped into you as you sifted through the crowds, driving you to start elbowing and shoulder-checking everyone around you. You received stank looks and slurred curses, but it merely molded with the rest of the noise surrounding you.

They were all basically there to celebrate your misery, so fuck them.

Even though you were on the prowl for the douche-nozzle himself to give him a piece of your mind, at some point you got caught up with various cups of who know's what in your hand, downing them like a fish out of water. You welcomed the delightful burn as it rolled down your esophagus, seeping into the wounds of your broken heart, and right into your stomach like a hot stone. You fought back the urge to vomit fire, body vibrating as you mentally set your mission on a different course...the garage.

“Y’know, that’d go a lot quicker if you used this.” 

You yelped. Nearly slipping off of the cyber truck you were currently jumping on you regained balance in the last second, crouching down to slap your hands on the cool metal to steady yourself. While attempting to put a dent through the aluminum foil-ass top, you failed to notice your lone audience member chilling in a corner of the 10-car garage. How long he’d been standing there, you had no idea. All you knew was you had about four seconds to either teleport or hightail it to the nearest exit before he got a good look at your face.

“Shitshitshit,” you hissed, hurriedly and clumsily sliding down off the car, ready to book it. You really wished you hadn't drank as much before attempting to do this, but in your defense, you weren't expecting to have...company. However, as soon as your feet touched the floor, the stranger coaxed out to you with a free hand raised in peace, delaying your panicked scrambling. 

“Hey, hey, relax. Believe me, if I wanted to narc on you I would’ve done so when you lit those firecrackers off in the guest bathroom. Hilarious, by the way."

Your heart sunk. An uneasy feeling formed in the pit of your stomach, not sure whether to be relieved or devastated—Question is, why didn’t he tell anyone?

Remaining vigilant you peered over your shoulder at him, guard up. “Who're you?”

He raised a brow. “Pretty sure that’s my line, sweetheart.”

You glared, turning around fully to scrutinize him. From the way he was dressed—Designer from head to toe even if on the casual side, blinding Rolex on his wrist paired with a few rings, equally icy studs in his ears along with a thin, and golden chain rested upon his toned, inked chest—He had money, no doubt about it. Not too bad on the eyes either..

Shaking your head of that last thought, you scoffed, “Don’t call me that. ‘m not anyone’s ‘sweetheart’.”

He shrugged, coyly. “Be happy to fix that, if you’d like.”

“Do I look in the mood for funny shit?"

He chuckled, tilting his head. “Nah, 'course not. Look more like you’re itching to bust some more shit up. But, gotta say, how you’re going about it s’kinda redundant. Those things may look like they're made out of construction paper, but you’ll tire out before you even make single scratch. So.. figured you’d appreciate a more practical approach.”

Too preoccupied giving him the stank eye, you hadn't seen the weapon rested in his other hand. Once you set your eyes on it and allowed his words to fully register, they slowly widened. The stranger’s grin sharpened at your muted interest, flicking his wrist to spin the slab of metal around before resting it coolly on his shoulder.

"Ah, crazy girl’s in the mood now?"

Your curiosity morphed back into annoyance instantly at his cheeky comment. “I am not crazy.”

He hummed. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Look, smartass, I'll have you know that I have a very good reason—” you pointed, ready to dump hours of alcohol-fueled rage on this stranger, only for him to immediately extinguish it with a mere wave of his hand.

“And you can tell me all about it when we go out for dinner after this. You want the bat or not?"

You paused, confused. Flabbergasted, even. Did this fool just ask me out?, you thought. Maybe you were just a little bit too tipsy and misheard, so you let it slide for now. With a huff, you finally said, skeptically, "Why...are you helping me?"

The stranger merely shrugged once more, eyes coated in mischief as he gave another spin of the bat. "Doesn't every criminal need a henchman?"

BAJI, HANMA, kazutora, mikey, draken, most of toman really, rindou, ran, izana,[insert anyone else who would fit].

© 2024-2025 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[misshoneyimhome]

What's up buttercups!

Who doesn’t love a little mistletoe mischief? 🎄✨

This one’s for all the Auston fans craving that perfect blend of holiday magic and unresolved tension 😏

I hope you enjoy this steamy, festive moment! Happy holidays and happy reading! 🎁

Sexy Christmas ☃︎

➼｡ﾟ

Mistletoe Tease - Auston Matthews ☃︎

The tension between them has been building for weeks, but when they get caught under the mistletoe at the team’s holiday party, what starts as a simple kiss quickly becomes a steamy exchange they can’t stop.

Tropes & Warnings: 18+ smut, Auston Matthews x reader, sexual intercourse with guests in the house, oral sex (f receiving), protected sex (p in v)

Word count: 2.5K

The buzz of laughter and chatter filled the air, blending with the soft strains of holiday music playing in the background. The Toronto Maple Leafs’ annual holiday party was in full swing, complete with an over-the-top Christmas tree, twinkling lights, and, of course, strategically placed mistletoe in nearly every doorway.

You stood near the kitchen bar, swirling a glass of champagne as your gaze flicked across the room. The team was in high spirits, their usual competitive energy swapped for relaxed camaraderie. But your focus wasn’t on the crowd—it was on Auston Matthews. The team’s captain. The host of tonight’s festivities.

He was hard to miss, his tall frame leaning casually against the counter, his dark eyes scanning the room. Every time his gaze lingered on you, your heart skipped a beat. For weeks, an unspoken tension had simmered between you. Lingering glances, light brushes of hands, and playful banter left your cheeks flushed long after he’d walked away. But neither of you had taken that next step. 

Tonight though, he looked particularly irresistible in a dark green sweater that clung to his broad shoulders, his usual confident smirk softened by the glow of the Christmas lights.

And as if sensing your thoughts, Auston turned his head, his eyes locking onto yours. The corner of his mouth lifted into a knowing grin, and you felt a wave of heat rise to your cheeks as he decided to make his way in your direction. 

“You’re staring,” his deep voice teased as he approached, his presence commanding your attention.

“Maybe I am,” you shot back, your tone light though your pulse quickened. “But don’t let it go to your head, Matthews.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, and leaned against the counter beside you. “Too late.”

But before you could respond, a shout erupted from across the room.

“Mistletoe alert!”

Your stomach flipped as you glanced up, and sure enough, a sprig of mistletoe dangled above your heads. A chorus of cheers and whistles erupted from the other players, all eyes on the two of you.

“Well,” Auston drawled, his voice taking on a playful edge as he stepped closer, “rules are rules.”

Your breath caught as Auston stepped into your space, his familiar scent—fresh, woodsy, with a hint of something deeper—enveloping you. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief, though there was something else simmering beneath the surface, something that made your pulse race.

“You could always back out,” you teased, your voice softer now but laced with a challenge.

His grin widened, and he tilted his head, his eyes tracing your face. “You think I’d let you get away with that?”

Before you could reply, his hands slid to your waist, steady but gentle, sending a jolt of electricity through you. The chatter of the room seemed to fade as he leaned in, his breath brushing your cheek before his lips pressed softly against yours.

The kiss started light, almost testing the waters, but the heat between you ignited instantly. His lips were warm and firm, moving against yours with a perfect blend of confidence and tenderness. Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath the soft fabric of his sweater.

The cheers around you grew louder, a few catcalls and exaggerated applause breaking through the haze. You knew you should pull away, laugh it off as a playful holiday moment, but neither of you moved.

Instead, Auston deepened the kiss, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as if anchouring you in place. A quiet hum escaped your throat, and you felt him smile against your lips. When his tongue brushed teasingly against yours, a surge of heat pooled low in your belly, and you couldn’t stop your fingers from curling into the fabric of his sweater, pulling him closer. 

“Get a room!” Max Domi shouted, snapping you both out of the moment.

Auston pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath. His cheeks were flushed, his lips parted and glistening, and he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.

“Maybe we should,” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

Your heart raced at the suggestion, but you managed a smirk, trying to regain some composure. “Big talk, Matthews. Are you going to make good on it?”

His grin returned, sharper this time, and his hand slid up your side, brushing the curve of your hip. “Oh, I plan to. Come on.”

Without giving you a chance to respond, Auston’s fingers laced through yours, tugging you toward the back of the house. You barely registered the playful jeers from the team as he guided you down a quiet hallway, the noise of the party fading with each step.

The moment you reached the door to his bedroom, Auston pushed it open with a firm hand, pulling you inside before closing it behind you. His lips were on yours again before you could catch your breath, his hands cupping your face as he backed you against the door.

This kiss wasn’t playful or teasing—it was hungry, all-consuming, as if he’d been holding back for weeks and finally let go. His body pressed against yours, solid and warm, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped as his hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly.

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and he carried you to the edge of the bed, lowering you onto the soft mattress without breaking the kiss. His hands roamed over your body, exploring with a mixture of reverence and urgency, while his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of heat in their wake.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and full of need.

You tilted your head back, giving him better access as your fingers tangled in his dark hair. “Then stop holding back,” you whispered, your voice breathless.

His answering grin was wicked, and the way his hands and lips worked over you left no doubt that he intended to do just that.

Auston’s lips hovered over yours again, brushing so lightly it was maddening. His breath was warm, teasing, as he paused just long enough to make you ache for him. His fingers traced the curve of your jaw, skimming down the column of your throat, his touch featherlight but purposeful, setting every nerve in your body alight.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine.

You caught his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging gently before releasing it. “Then do something about it.”

A growl rumbled in his chest, and in a flash, his lips were on yours, demanding and full of heat. He kissed you like he wanted to consume you, like he’d been holding back for far too long and couldn’t anymore. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you gasped as you felt the hard evidence of his desire pressing into you.

“Auston,” you breathed, the sound barely audible but laced with need.

He seemed to snap at the way you said his name, his kisses becoming hungrier, rougher, as his hands roamed with purpose. One slid under your sweater, fingers spreading wide over your bare skin, the heat of his touch branding you.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked, his lips moving to your jawline, then down the side of your neck. He nipped at the sensitive skin there, soothing it with his tongue, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped.

“Show me,” you challenged, your voice trembling but firm.

Auston pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes burning with intensity. He reached for the hem of your sweater, his fingers brushing against your skin as he pulled it up and over your head. The way his gaze darkened as it swept over your body made your cheeks flush, but the heat pooling low in your belly quickly overtook any hint of shyness.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he said, his voice reverent as his hands slid up your sides, thumbs brushing the curve of your waist.

You tugged at his sweater in response, eager to level the playing field. He chuckled, the sound low and teasing, but he obliged, pulling it off in one swift motion and tossing it to the floor. Your hands immediately roamed over his chest, tracing the hard lines of muscle and the smattering of dark hair that led down to the waistband of his trousers.

Auston’s mouth captured yours again, his kisses urgent as he lowered you onto the bed. His weight settled over you, grounding you, and you arched into him, your bodies aligning in a way that made you ache for more.

His lips left a trail of fire as they moved down your neck, across your collarbone, and lower still. He paused at the lace of your bra, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, seeking permission.

You nodded, your breath catching as his fingers deftly unhooked the clasp. He slid the straps down your arms, his eyes darkening further as he took you in.

“Mmm baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing over the curve of your breast before closing around your nipple, his tongue flicking teasingly.

Your back arched, a soft cry escaping your lips as he lavished attention on you, his hands caressing and kneading in time with his mouth. Every touch, every kiss sent a wave of heat coursing through your body, building an unbearable tension that demanded release.

“Auston, please,” you whispered, the need in your voice making his jaw tighten.

He trailed kisses down your stomach, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your skirt and tugging it down along with your underwear. The cool air brushed your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his hands as they explored the newly exposed skin.

“You’re incredible,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your hip as his hands spread your thighs.

Your breath hitched as his mouth found your core, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate circles that made your head fall back against the pillow. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as he worked, the tension inside you coiling tighter with every flick of his tongue, every gentle graze of his teeth.

“Oh my God, Auston,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him closer.

He groaned against you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat through your body. His pace quickened, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to push you closer and closer to the edge.

“Come for me,” he murmured, his voice husky and commanding, and it was all you needed.

Your body tensed, and a wave of pure ecstasy crashed over you, leaving you trembling and breathless beneath him. Auston slowed his movements, guiding you through the high until you were left boneless and gasping for air.

He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh before crawling back up your body, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and filled with promise.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low and warm, a hint of pride in his tone.

You smiled, your fingers trailing down his chest to the waistband of his pants. “Not done yet,” you replied, your voice teasing but full of intent.

Auston’s grin widened, and as you pushed his trousers down, he leaned in, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

“Good. Because I’m not nearly finished with you.”

Auston’s grin was wicked, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire as he kicked off his trousers and boxers in one smooth motion, revealing every inch of him. You couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering, your breath catching at the sight of him—broad, strong, and entirely ready for you.

He hovered over you, the heat of his body radiating as his lips met yours again, slow and deliberate, sending sparks through your entire being. His weight pressed you into the mattress, grounding you even as your head spun with anticipation.

“Still sure?” he asked softly, his voice thick with restraint, though his body betrayed how much he wanted you.

“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation, your nails dragging lightly over his back.

Auston groaned, capturing your lips in another searing kiss before reaching into the nightstand. He fumbled briefly before pulling out a foil packet, his eyes never leaving yours as he tore it open and rolled the condom on.

“Perfect,” he murmured again, leaning down to kiss you, slow and languid, as if savouring the moment before everything changed.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he positioned himself at your entrance, pausing just long enough for his eyes to meet yours. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver through you.

Then, with a slow, steady thrust, he pushed into you, filling you completely. You gasped at the stretch, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body adjusted to him.

“God, you feel so good,” he muttered, his forehead dropping to yours as he started to move, his hips rocking in a rhythm that was both gentle and utterly consuming.

Every thrust was measured, deliberate, the pressure building with each roll of his hips. His mouth found yours again, his kisses messy and desperate as the pace between you began to quicken.

“Faster,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with need, and Auston obliged, his movements becoming more urgent. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your shared breaths and soft moans.

“Mmm, you’re so fucking good for me,” he murmured against your neck, his lips and teeth grazing the sensitive skin there as his hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he drove deeper.

Your nails raked down his back, and the sound he made—a deep, guttural groan—sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly. The tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

“Auston, I’m so close,” you managed, your voice breaking as your body began to tremble.

His movements became relentless, his hands clenched the sheets beneath you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was all-consuming. “Let go for me,” he whispered, his voice rough, and it was all you needed.

Your release crashed over you, your body arching into his as waves of pleasure rolled through you, leaving you gasping and trembling beneath him. And Auston followed just seconds later, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you, a low, broken moan escaping his lips as he found his own release.

He collapsed onto his forearms, careful not to crush you, and the two of you lay there, your bodies tangled and slick with sweat, your breathing heavy but content.

After a moment, Auston pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re amazing,” he said softly, his voice filled with awe.

You smiled, your fingers trailing lightly over his cheek. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine, and as he rolled to his side, pulling you into his arms, you couldn’t help but think that this—Auston, you, and the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world—was exactly where you were meant to be.

[bahrtofane]

jude helping you in the kitchen because you’re hosting his family for dinner and youre running around at 100 miles an hour trying to find that damn stick of butter, it was just in your hand come onn

all while jude is having the time of his life taking his time gingerly cutting potatoes into neat little squares (roasted potatoes are a must)

"am i doing good?" he pipes up, already done with 3 Potatoes, youre so proud of him

you scramble over to him with a pound of meat in your hand, "yes love youre doing great."

he beams, wiggling his shoulders happily, "what do i do with them?"

you set down the meat on the counter while grabbing what you can from the spice cabinet, "the potatoes? just put them into a big bowl and ill worry about them."

he hums, going to get said big bowl while you run back to the fridge. you need asparagus how could you forget!

he manages to get the squares off the cutting board and into the bowl without much hassle, and you’ve started getting your pans out for the meat and asparagus. the squash is in the oven all ready, you need to make room for your lamb when its time though, desert also needs to get started, oh your mini quiches you completely forgot.

you slide back over to the fridge, the dough you made this morning, grabbing it and some flour. the lamb can wait while you get the crusts in the oven.

by the time jude looks back over at you, your covered in flour.

he snorts, "looks like you lost a fight to a baker."

"very funny jude, get the asparagus in the pan please and keep an eye on the squash for me while i finish getting the dough ready."

he puts the cutting board to the side, wiping his hands on a paper towel "yes ma'am."

you feel like gordan ramsey, barking our orders and running around with enough stress to last a life time. and you tell people you love cooking. pfft. sure. poor jude only follows you, doing what you ask. hes even worm a silly apron with big red words "kiss the chef" plastered on them. he thought it was the funniest thing ever. it was pretty funny you admit.

you spend too much time balling up little wads of aluminum foil for the crusts but jude keeps everything else in order, and before you know it in they go, out the squash comes, and you get started on the meat.

you love lamb, you hate the amount of pans and pots it takes though. first you sear, then you transfer to the oven while you sear off vegetables in the same pot, in they go with the lamb, pull them out, blend them with left of lamb juice at the bottom of the pan, boom you have a little gravy.

jude gasps and for a moment you think he'd burned himself, but he turns around with a stick of butter in his hand.

you light up, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "i love you," taking the butter and adding it to the asparagus.

somehow, someway, all your courses get done just on time, the deserts in the fridge, jude cleaning up the last of the kitchen while you get changed.

you come back down to greet the family, plating their food and basking in the praises they sing after every bite.

you love cooking !

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 9 - Costume

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : Here is the one shot for the Costume prompt. I decided to keep it SFW but I hope you enjoy it. ❤️

CW : Slim Shady Costume - Flirting - Making out

It had only been a few weeks since you had moved to Detroit. Everything still felt new and unfamiliar—the towering buildings, the way the cold seemed to creep into my bones, and the constant buzz of a city that never seemed to sleep. You’d come here seeking an opportunity for your career. It was a fresh start and, even though it was a nice perspective, it was a little intimidating. You hadn’t made many friends yet, but you were lucky enough to meet a few people through work who invited you to a Halloween party. They were the outgoing type—knew everyone, knew all the spots—and somehow, they convinced you to come along. You weren’t too sure about it. I wasn’t really that girl, the one who easily fit into a crowd of strangers at a party. But still, you thought you’d give it a try.. New city, new you and all that.

The party wasn’t anything like you expected. It was in someone’s house, but it was incredibly elaborate for a house party. You didn’t know the host personally. It was some dude named Nate, a friend of your friends. You didn’t know too much about him, except that he had the house to himself - something about his wife and kids being out of town - and decided to throw a cool event for Halloween at the last minute. He had a pretty cool place and, by the looks of it, he knew how to throw a great party. The music pounded through the walls, and people were packed into every room, laughing, dancing, and filling the space with the kind of energy you were still getting used to. Your friends disappeared into the crowd as soon as you got there, but that you told yourself.

You had dressed up, of course. It was Halloween, after all. You wanted to go for something kind of bold, something that felt like Detroit. So I went as Slim Shady—a sexier version, at least. You even went as far as bleaching your hair and decided to go for some vintage jeans overalls, with some sweet lingerie peeking through. You even drew the tattoos on your arms. it was fun, a little tongue-in-cheek. Honestly, you didn’t expect anyone to even notice. You were wrong. As soon as your friends saw you, they opened wide eyes and arbored grins. “You’re really wearing that ?” one asked. “I mean… Yeah. What ? Is it… Too much ? Inappropriate ?” you nervously asked as you saw their reaction. “No ! Don’t worry about it. It’s very fitting to where we’re going, actually” another replied with an enigmatic smile. 

As you stood there, awkwardly holding your drink, trying to ease yourself into the party, you started feeling this strange sensation, like someone was watching you. My heart picked up a little, but you ignored it. Probably just one of the guys at the party being... well, a guy. Or, even more likely, you being a little nervous about being at an event full of strangers. Then, you glanced up, and immediately froze.Standing across the room, leaning against the wall with a casual ease, was Eminem. Eminem. The actual Slim Shady. Your heart nearly dropped into your stomach. He was looking right at you, his eyes locked onto yours. There was no mistaking it. It was him. And he was staring at you. 

For a second, you wanted to disappear into the floor. You’d come to this party thinking you’d just blend in, maybe make some new friends. You hadn’t expected this. All of a sudden, you felt incredibly out of place, like you weren’t in the right room. You’d listened to his music growing up, knew all about Slim Shady, and here you were... dressed as a ridiculous version of him, no less. You were sure you looked like an idiot. And that was the best-case scenario. In the worst one, you looked like some creepy stalker. Of course, now, you understood your friends’ reaction. However, you wished they’d had some common sense and told you to change. 

Before you could even think about slipping away, he started making his way over. Each step he took felt like a heartbeat in your ears. You couldn’t move. What the hell were you supposed to say to Eminem ? “Hey,” his voice cut through the music, low but loud enough to hear. He was standing right in front of you now, and you could barely breathe. You swallowed hard, trying to pull yourself together. “Uh, hi.” His eyes flicked over your outfit, and you felt your cheeks burn. You must have looked ridiculous. He smirked, though, and tilted his head slightly. “So... you’re me tonight?”. You let out a nervous laugh, wishing you could sink into the floor. “Uh, yeah, I guess. It’s, uh, Halloween, so... why not?”. He chuckled, the sound softer than you  expected. “You pulled it off.”. You blinked. “What?”. He gestured to the outfit. “The look. You got it pretty close. Even the tattoos.”. You glanced down at the fake tattoos you had drawn on, feeling suddenly embarrassed. “Oh, yeah... I mean, I tried. But it’s probably, uh, not great.”. “No, it’s good,” he said, his voice still calm, almost reassuring. “Not bad at all.”.  You stared at him, completely unsure of what to say. He was right in front of you, just casually talking like this was no big deal, but your mind was spinning. How was this real ? Out of all the parties, in all of Detroit, he was at this one. And he was talking to you. 

He smiled again, and your heart nearly stopped. “So, what’s your name ?”. “Uh...” you stammered, feeling stupid for being so nervous. “It’s, um, Y/N.” “Y/N,” he repeated, nodding. “Alright, Y/N. You from Detroit ?”. You shook your head quickly, desperate to stop sounding like an idiot. “No, I just moved here. A few weeks ago.”. “Yeah?” His expression softened, and for the first time, you noticed how he didn’t seem as intimidating as you thought he’d be. “How’re you liking it so far?”. “It’s... different,” you admitted, feeling a little more at ease now. “Still getting used to it.”. He nodded like he understood. “Takes time. Detroit’s got its own thing, you know?”. You nodded, even though you still didn’t feel like you  knew what Detroit’s “thing” was yet. “Yeah, I’m figuring that out.”

You stood there for a moment, the conversation hanging between you. You kept expecting him to get bored, to move on, but he didn’t. He stayed, just casually talking to you. It was kind of surreal. He looked you over again, that same smirk on his face. “So, sexy Slim Shady, huh?”. You felt your face go a bright shade of red, and you let out a nervous laugh. “I... yeah. I thought it’d be funny.”. “It is,” he said, his voice warm. “Looks good on you, though. Better than me, probably.”. You blinked at him. Was he complimenting you ? You  didn’t quite know what to do with that. “I, uh, didn’t expect you to be here,” you mumbled, trying to keep your cool. He shrugged. “Didn’t plan on it. Just showed up to say hi to my brother. Guess it was the right party, though.”. You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you just smiled awkwardly. “Yeah, uh, I guess so.” He chuckled again, glancing around before his eyes came back to you. “You’re doing alright, though. New city, big party. Not bad.”. “I’m trying,” you said, surprised by how much easier it was to talk now. “It’s kind of overwhelming.”. He nodded, like he understood. “Yeah, I get that.”.

The air between you seemed to change after that. It was subtle, but you could feel something shift. His gaze lingered a little longer, his smile a little more playful. You felt your own nerves start to tangle with a different kind of energy. Was he... flirting with you ? “Want to get out of here for a bit?” he asked suddenly, his voice low. You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, uh—". “Just for some air,” he added quickly, smirking as if he could read the confusion on your face. “It’s loud as hell in here.”. “Yeah, sure,” you said, trying to sound casual, though your heart was racing. He nodded, then gestured for you to follow him. You moved through the crowded house, weaving past people dancing and laughing, and ended up in a darker, quieter corner at the far end of the house. It was like the rest of the party faded away as soon as you reached it. You leaned against the wall, feeling more nervous than you had all night. “So, uh... quieter out here.”. He chuckled softly, leaning beside you, his arm brushing yours. “Yeah. Better.”. There was a brief moment of silence, just the muffled sounds of the party echoing from down the hall. Your heart pounded in your chest. The tension between you was thick now, hanging in the air like something unspoken.

“So,” he said, his voice a little lower, his eyes glancing at your lips before meeting your gaze again, “What do you think? How do I look as... you tonight?”. You blinked, caught off guard by his teasing tone. “Wait, what?”. He grinned, stepping a little closer, his hand grazing your arm. “I mean, you’re rocking my look pretty hard. Think I could pull off yours?”. You laughed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I... I’m not sure you could handle it.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the game. “You don’t think so?”. You shook your head, biting your lip, the space between you growing smaller and smaller. “Nope.”. In a flash, his hand slid lightly to your waist, pulling you closer, and before you had time to think, his lips were on yours. The world around you seemed to disappear. His kiss was slow at first, gentle, but there was heat behind it, a current of energy that made your head spin. You felt his other hand cup your face, deepening the kiss, and you melted into him. Your nerves, your doubts, all of it vanished in that moment. There was just him and somehow, it felt right. When you finally broke apart, you were breathless, your heart racing as you looked up at him. He was grinning, his face inches from yours. “Damn,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “I think I’m starting to like Detroit a little more now.” You laughed softly, still trying to catch your breath. “Yeah?”. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle. “Yeah.”. For a moment, you just stood there, caught in the intensity of what had just happened. Then, with a smirk, he leaned in and whispered, “You wanna get out of here?”. 

You swallowed, your pulse still pounding in your ears. “Like... leave?”. He nodded, his eyes gleaming with that same playful edge. “Yeah. I’ve had enough of this party. What about you?”. You hesitated for only a second, then nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”. Without another word, he took your hand again, and you slipped out the back of the house, the noise of the party fading behind you as you stepped into the cool night air. The city seemed quieter now, almost peaceful, as you walked side by side down the street to his car. The night air was cool, crisp against your skin as you left the house behind. The sound of the party faded into a distant hum, swallowed by the quiet streets of the neighborhood. Your heart was still racing, every nerve in your body alive from what had just happened inside. Marshall was walking beside you, his hand still loosely holding yours. You reached his car, an understated black SUV parked a little ways down the block. You hesitated for a second, glancing over at him, still trying to process everything that had happened in the last half hour. It felt surreal, like a dream you hadn’t expected to be living. He looked over at you, catching the uncertainty in your eyes. With that same smirk that had been throwing you off all night, he opened the passenger door for you. “You coming?”. There was something playful in his tone, an edge of confidence that made your pulse quicken again. You nodded, slipping into the passenger seat. The second you sat down, the cool leather sent a shiver up your spine, and before you had a chance to settle, he closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side, climbing in next to you.As soon as the door shut, the quiet of the night felt even more intense. The space between you in the car was charged, and your breath hitched when he turned to face you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence building with a heavy anticipation. He leaned in, his eyes flicking to yours, then to your lips. “You good?”. You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. I’m good.”. He didn’t need any more confirmation. In an instant, he closed the gap between you, his lips crashing against yours. The kiss was hotter this time, more urgent, like the tension between you had been building to this point all night.

You felt  his hand slide around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you instinctively reached for him, fingers tangling in his shirt as you kissed him back. The inside of the car felt small, intimate, like your own private world. You could feel the weight of him, his presence filling the space between you as the kiss deepened. His hands moved down to your waist, pulling you into him, and you found yourself melting into him again, completely lost in the moment. Then, without breaking the kiss, you felt his hand trail up my side, his fingers brushing the fake tattoos you’d drawn earlier in the night. You tensed for a second, pulling back just enough to catch your breath. He smirked, his lips still dangerously close to yours, his voice low and teasing. “You really went all out, huh?”. You laughed, still breathless. “What do you mean?”. He raised an eyebrow, his hand moving back to trace the ink on your arm. “These. The tattoos. You even got the placement right.”. You felt a flush creep up your neck. “Yeah, I, uh, did some research.”. He laughed, leaning in to kiss you again, but this time his lips trailed down your jaw, brushing your neck as his hand moved to your side, touching your bare skin under the overalls, just under your lacy bra. His breath was warm against your skin when he asked, “So, did you... draw all of them ?”. You blinked, trying to piece together what he meant as your mind raced from the feeling of his lips. Then it hit you. He pulled back slightly, that teasing smirk firmly in place. “You know... the one on my stomach ?” His hand ghosted over your belly, right where the infamous "Rot in Pieces" tattoo would be. Your face went red, and you laughed, shaking your head. “No... I didn’t, uh, go that far.”. He laughed too, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Good, ‘cause I was about to say—if you did, I’d need to see the accuracy.”. You let out a giggle before looking into his eyes. “Maybe I should have, then.”, you whispered teasingly. Before you could say anything else, he closed the distance between you again, kissing you harder this time, hands moving to your hips. You felt yourself lean into him, the heat between you building as the kiss deepened. His grip tightened slightly, pulling you closer, until you were practically in his lap, your movements growing more intense. It was like everything outside the car disappeared—the city, the cold, the uncertainty you’d felt earlier in the night. All that mattered in this moment was him, the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against you. He gently unhooked the buckles of the oversized overalls you were wearing, brushing your skin in a way that made your heart race even faster. You could feel the desire, the playfulness in every touch, and it was intoxicating. When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless, he grinned, his forehead resting against yours. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “you’re gonna have to teach me how to pull off the ‘sexy Slim Shady’ look.”. You laughed, still trying to catch your breath. “I’m not sure you could handle it.”.  He grinned, his lips brushing yours again, teasingly soft. “Oh, I could handle it. Trust me.”. There was a pause, a moment where you just stayed there, pressed together in the dim light of the car, the air between you still electric. “So,” he said, his voice playful but with a certain edge to it, “What do you say we get out of here? Find somewhere quieter.”.  Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in my throat. “Yeah,” I said, my voice soft but steady. “Where do you want to go ?”.  With one last kiss—slow, lingering—he pulled away just enough to turn the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. “My place.” he suggested with a grin and you felt yourself nodding. As the car pulled away from the curb, you glanced over at him, head still spinning from the intensity of the moment. This wasn’t how you expected the night to go, but you weren’t mad. And you thought to yourself that you were really starting to really like Detroit. 

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 2 - Public

pairing: ethan hunt x f!reader

cw: inspired by mi2, implied agent!reader, public sex, wall sex, penetration

word count: 1875

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

-

The Spanish villa is overflowing with guests; a blend of very important people looking to make business deals with one another, the people working for the very important people, Flamenco dancers adorned in deep shades of red, probably a million partygoers, you. Ethan Hunt, if you were right. Among the sea of people, you swear you’d seen him. You could recognize him from a mile away. 

You couldn’t confirm though. It was hard to get a better look, losing him in the swarm of guests. Not to mention your certainty that the party’s host had been notified of your presence, surely sending enforcements after you any second now.

The thing about Ethan, though, is that, between the two of you, he’s always had the upper hand. Turning a corner on your way upstairs, you run right into something solid. The expensive material of a suit, a perfect face. Extraordinary looking hair. 

Looks like he’d spotted you first.

“Ethan.”

He grabs your arms, carefully backtracks you down the only two steps you’d reached. Back around the corner and against a pillar. He smiles. “Hi.”

“So it was you.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks, a sincere softness to his voice. He holds onto your arms.

You can’t tell him. You wonder if he’ll pry. Putting on a smile, you simply say, “Enjoying the party. What about you?”

He takes a moment to think about it, puckering his lips in thought before they drop into a smirk. “Let’s call it.. research.” 

Okay. He’s on a mission, then. You’ve got maybe three seconds to wonder if it’s got anything to do with yours before you spot the enforcements. Down the hall, dressed in tactical gear, looking around. Your widened eyes meet Ethan’s, and you can tell he immediately knows.

“Please help me blend in,” you whisper, realizing too late that he’s not going to hear you over the music. 

Luckily, his instincts save the day, and he pushes you past the pillar and into the shadow it has cast. Your back gently hits the wall behind it just as flashing lights begin pouring into the dark hallway, illuminating your spot every few seconds at a time. It seems something has started on the main floor, a performance, perhaps. Your stomach knots as the men sent after you stalk closer to the pillar you’re hiding behind, but Ethan’s lips are on yours before they pass. You immediately sink into his kiss, feeling the softness of his fingers gripping your jaw as he delves into your mouth.

You close your eyes then, giving them a break from the white glare that seems to be getting faster as the music’s tempo picks up.

The feigned kiss becomes passionate, almost real, with Ethan’s body pressing to yours in an effort to hide you. You’re chest to chest, and you groan into his mouth at the tightness of the dress against your breasts. It’s as if he knows (yet again); his hand goes around behind your neck to delicately lower your zipper just a few inches, giving you a bit of room to breathe.

It’s then that he breaks from your mouth to kiss and nip at your neck, the front of your dress now a bit loose from his work on your zipper, your cleavage exposed to him. Your eyes dart to the hallway; the men have passed, the hall empty. Maybe this is where you pull apart and go your separate ways again. Ethan continues leaving a trail of wet kisses over your collarbone, arms wrapping around your middle. 

It feels good. You almost want to moan. You settle for a happy sigh instead, “I owe you one.”

Another smirk, and one last kiss under your jaw before he’s facing you again. “We’ll call it even if you tell me what you’re doing here.”

You exhale, lips puffy from his kiss. It’s easy to get lost in his eyes; you have many times before. You can’t, though. Just like you’re sure he can’t tell you why he’s here. Maybe, for now, all you can do is hide here with him.

He begins to pull away, and you panic. 

“Wait.”

As if on cue, the flashing lights from the center of the party stop, a dark blue glow washing over the hall instead. You’re left in the pale darkness, body still pressed to his. 

Fuck it.

You lean up, capturing his lips again. You decide to let your hands roam, into the suit and against his pecs, then up and around his neck to pull him as close as he was just a few seconds ago. Your knee tips up slightly, your thigh slipping from the slit in your dress to rub between his legs. 

“We’re doing this?” he groans. “Here?”

You ignore the question, instead moving your hands to the button on his pants. If he stops you, then so be it. 

He doesn’t, though, his hands joining your shaky ones to get the button off and his zipper down. Reaching into his pants, you start palming at him through his underwear. The angle is odd but he squirms against you, lips slightly parted. It feels good, it seems, so you continue. Your touch turns to grip, and you pull at him as he moans against you. Letting you touch him, he presses his hands against the wall on either side of your head.

“Touch me, please,” you beg, hand slipping in to pull his half-hard cock out and fully into your palm.

He growls at the feeling, the hand closest to you dipping down the curve of your body and under your ass to hook your leg around his waist. The slit in your dress exposes your thighs very nicely, and he smiles at the easy access.

“Nice dress,” he muses, leaning in to kiss at your neck again, his hand slipping into the slit.

When you feel his finger prodding at your clothed cunt, you throw your head back against the wall in impatience. The risk of getting caught slips your mind; all you can think of is how badly you need to feel him. “Please,” you breathe out for him.

You stroke him until he’s fully hard, and by the time he is, he’s got your underwear shoved to the side and a finger working the growing wetness between your legs. You cover your mouth with your free hand, letting him work you open on his one digit. 

One finger becomes two, and he adds his thumb against your clit for good measure. You have to bite your tongue to not cry out.

He doesn’t prolong it, though. You don’t have much time here. The music could stop, the lights could turn on, someone could walk by and spot you, or worse, it could be the men sent after you. Despite all the possibilities, you realize you’re not really stressing as much as you should be. This, though, is unheard of for him. He doesn’t intend on fucking up. Ethan’s fingers slip out of you, and you feel their wetness against your thigh when he grips at them to pull you closer against him. He lines himself against you as best as he can, eyebrows pulled together in concentration. 

The whole thing is messy and uncomfortable. You’re not sure how this’ll work. The wall provides absolutely no comfort to your now strained back, and your calf is kind of starting to burn from standing on your tiptoes. 

Your back arches off the wall just a bit when the head of his cock enters you. The angle is still odd but it does help him slide into you, and he’s halfway inside you when a strangled moan escapes your lips. Lightning fast, he removes a hand from your waist to cover your mouth with his palm, and you slip down onto your heel. The action sinks you down onto the rest of him, your hips flush with his.

Whatever performance is going on on the main floor is surely enough to hide your sounds, but you can never be too careful. 

The position is awkward; his cock feels good when you’re on your tiptoes (uncomfortably so), and you’re not sure how he intends to thrust into you like this, so you settle for rolling your hips against him instead. You find it hard to do one-legged.

He removes his palm to kiss you deeply again, like the kiss that started this. He follows you in rolling his hips instead of thrusting up, and the pleasure swims through you in waves. He slowly snaps his movement at first, a few seconds apart each time, your bodies mostly just pressed to one another, until he finds a better angle. 

It only helps a tad bit, however, his thrusts shallow. He’s deeper inside you than he is moving in and out, but it still feels delicious. 

Your head rolls back against the wall again, your neck exposed to him. He leans in to kiss and nip where he’s face-level. You’d almost forgotten what a passionate lover he was. The pleasure turns white hot, heat flushing your entire body. The unzipped front of his pants meets your dripping core with each thrust, elevating your senses. Clothed public sex. That’s a new one. 

His groans are quiet but hot against your ear, only fueling the pit of fire in your stomach. 

“Keep.. an eye out,” he rasps, his voice gravely and low.

How could you, though? 

You’re itching closer and closer to your release, biting your lip hard to avoid making noise. The burn in your leg from holding yourself up against him is irritating you completely, but the orgasm you’re chasing is so close already, what with the quick work of his fingers and—this entire fervorous situation, really. You squirm and try rolling your hips to match his movement. Ethan, in his own impatience, reaches between your bodies to thumb at your clit again.

You cum a minute later with an inevitable loud whine.

Ethan feels you clench around him, immediately pulling out to finish on his hand. A slight bit of pain meets your orgasm when your heel fully situates itself on the ground again.

Ethan lets go of the leg that he had hooked around his waist, and your knees feel wobbly when you attempt to set it down. Your orgasm pools in your lower abdomen and you keep from crying out in its coming afterglow. All you can do is lean against the wall as Ethan cums into his fist with a heavy grunt. 

Panting, the both of you stare at each other for a moment. Ethan comically glances down at the mess he’s made. He cocks a brow before meeting your eyes again, tucking himself into his pants as quickly as he can and wondering how the hell he’s going to clean himself up. 

“Let’s maybe not do this again.”

You can’t help but snicker. The ambience surrounding you is still the same; the hall is still a pool of dark blues and shadows. The music from the center of the party is still going. It’s then that it dawns on you. You laugh as you join him in fixing your garments. “We probably could’ve done this upstairs.”

[writingjourney]

Hi! I’ve had this thought swirling in my head for days and I HAVE to share before I go nuts with Secondo taking over 😂 I went to a bbq recently and all I could think of is all the Papas, ghouls and “Seestor”hosting one amongst themselves, and they’re allowed a plus one ofc, so Secondo takes you. He’s acting like his usual bitter old man self…and then gets jealous when others start staring at you, getting worse when you have your swimwear, and then he just ends up sitting you on his lap for a while. 🏃🏼‍♀️

Thank you for infesting my brain with this and activating my Secondo brain rot 😭

I wish I had the capacity rn to write a full thing for this but just... I need to add a little bit to it (under the read more bc I got carried away, gender-neutral reader):

I can imagine Secondo being the one who actually does the barbecueing and prepares the food or at least he quickly finds himself alone because everyone else acts like they don't know how to do it and besides, Terzo already brought the potato salad and there just isn't enough space in front of the grills for more than one person anyway, you know?

He'd mildly grumble about it but actually he enjoys taking care of everyone, feeling important and showing off his skills. At first you stay by his side even though you don't know how to help, he's very particular about how he does things, just so he's not all alone. However, you're quickly distracted by Terzo and the ghouls who are passing the time until dinner is ready by playing volleyball and doing all kinds of pool shenanigans. They get you to join and you soon find yourself laughing and giggling as they splash you with water or throw their beach balls at you.

At first Secondo is incredibly glad that you blend in so seamlessly, that no one even bats an eye at the fact that you're there with him and that they respect you as part of the family. But then the ghouls and ghoulettes get a little too comfy with you, a little too touchy, staring a little too hard at you in your scarce swimwear. He knows there is no reason to be jealous, he trusts you completely and he's not insecure when it comes to your love. The reason he gets jealous is that he finds himself wishing that he could be the one to make you laugh like this. Who brings out this carefree side of you and who holds you close while the cool water softly sways around you.

This quickly leads to him missing your company and wanting to be close to you and he's quite over this barbecue all of a sudden but of course he can't let the food burn, neither does he want to spoil your fun when he knows he's just being silly, so he just watches from afar and observes the situation. He only snaps out of it when Terzo shows up and asks him if he plans to serve any ghoul meat tonight because the intensity of his death stares surely has to be lethal.

Secondo only relaxes when you all sit down to eat and he finds himself right beside you again. His hand never leaves your thigh, it's actually quite impressive how he manages to eat a whole steak using just one hand. You praise his food of course, as do the others, and his mood improves – well, right until dinner is over and the ghouls and ghoulettes already try to drag you off again. This time, he's having none of it and the moment your butt leaves the garden chair you find yourself pulled back by two strong hands that wrap around your waist. He pulls you right into his lap, firm hands on your front pushing you into his groin as his lips press to your neck in a wet kiss. You can't help but chuckle because you know exactly what prompted it and you don't mind spending time with your love after all the excitement from earlier. You place your hands on his, engaging in the conversation he's falling into with his brothers. There's certainly worse things than sitting in Secondo's lap for the rest of the night ♡

[syahan-system]

★ Intro Post ★

Hi, and welcome! This is a sideblog for posting about system stuff. You can find our main at @cb-writes-stuff.

As a system, we use the name しゃはん (Syahan, pronounced “shah-han”), but it’s not really a personal name? It’s more like a team name. Addendum: The shell also goes by the name Syahan. sya pronouns are sy/sya/sya/syan/syaself. (The subjective case “sy” is pronounced “she”, and for the rest “sy” is pronounced as /sh/.)

We are a varion system, which means we vary between different intensities of being median (a spectrum between singlet and plural). Please do not call us “medianflux”, as the term is uncomfortable for us.

As for our people, we go between preferring facets and parts. You’re safe to use either one, though. And for sillies, we sometimes use teammates.

★ Blog Rules ★

As in, rules we follow on our blog.

Depending on our mood and energy levels, we use lots of colorful text on here, especially for longer posts. It makes things a lot easier to read!

To quote main, this is a no-swearing blog. You do you, but I don’t post or reblog anything with swearing. I find it triggering (it really screws with me), and this is my blog, so I can do what I want. If you send an ask, submit a post, or comment anything that includes swearing, it will be deleted.

We don’t engage in politics on here, at all! If we get asks that support a particular cause or ask for money in any way for any cause, we delete them indiscriminately.

We don’t engage in syscourse either! We’ll gladly talk about our experience being a system, but syscourse is a no-no. It’s just rude.

Our vent tag is #syahan shut up. Very simple.

If you don’t wanna see our venting, block that!

★ Teammates / Frequent Posters ★

Not gonna list everyone here, since not everyone wants to be listed. Also, if any of them feel like being explained, they’ll be explained. Otherwise, they won’t. It might be who/what they are, or it might be a fun fact about them.

Here’s a full list of everyone we know of.

CiCi / Cici (or CB) - Our host and core. Also the guy writing this.

Fae (she/her)

James (he/him) - Team manager. Usually doesn’t front, but almost always co-conscious. Keeps track of who’s in front.

Mel (she/he) - Uses hatless + cloakless Siffrin as a faceclaim, and for nothing else. (Uses she/her when not fronting, and he/him when fronting. For reasons.)

the mediator - A lot like CB, except he just steps in to stop insys conflicts from going too far. Not sure if he’ll even post, but whatever.

Loop (they/she) - An intentling of Loop from In Stars and Time. Strong tendency to be sardonic.

Coelle (she/her) - One of four littles, but the only one that fronts. Or posts, anyway.

Beatrice (she/her) - Goes by Bea. Mid-teens, for some reason. Helps out Coelle, sorta like a caretaker.

Lucie (she/her) - Caretaker, looks after certain age regressors.

★ Misc. Teammates ★

Anon fronter - Whenever someone is fronting who doesn’t want to give their name.

Blurry - When we’re not sure who’s fronting.

★ Tagging ★

Posts on this blog will be tagged to show who posted it. Most often, it’ll be CB. Regardless of who it is, it will be formatted as:

//name (pronouns)

Gonna try to figure out a format for blended people, since we like naming those.

★ Content ★

As mentioned earlier, this blog is for us to post about system stuff. This includes any random thoughts, talking about our experience, and the like.

It’s also a place for us to get used to tagging posts with our names to show who posted it, without it feeling weird on main.

[resident-gay-bitch]

Day One of @steddie-week - hunger / pining / somebody to love

Eddie’s having a smoke out by the old bleachers. It’s a warm day out, the sun’s shining down and there's a cool breeze that drifted through his hair to cool the back of his neck. It was nice. He wished it could be a little nicer, though. 

Tommy Hagan, the stupid oaf that he was, had just attempted to utterly humiliate in the middle of his English Oral on To Kill A Mockingbird, and despite his shocking grades, Eddie was actually very good at English and dissecting a text. He focused the main part of his essay on the prejudice themes within, granted he could understand and relate to them in one way or another, and pulled out a bloody brilliant essay if he did say so himself - though, he knew that he’d be coming close to a fail again, because Ms Click had it out for him and she hated his ‘vulgar language’ and ‘woke themes’. Bitch. Tommy had picked up on how Eddie reflected his own experiences to the text, and decided to start heckling him. You feeling a little left out, Munson? Gonna have a cry because you’re at the bottom of the food chain? All stupid shit that didn’t even make much sense because he’s pretty sure Tommy didn’t actually do the reading. 

Eddie gave him a grin and kept going until he just wouldn’t shut up, and Eddie was about to run out of time and he still had a whole paragraph to go, and so he just turned to Hagan and said, I know you can’t go three seconds without everyone's attention on you, Hagan, but don’t you think it’s a little pathetic how desperate for my attention you are? 

He got thrown out of the class instantly, and a big ‘F’ stamped on his essay. 

Whatever. 

Eddie didn’t care for all the attention he got. I mean, sure, he’d get up on tables and stomp around, preaching his shit and making a fool out of himself, but he only did that on the good days. The Confident days. The days he had something to say. Every other day, every other minute, he wished to go unnoticed. To blend in with the crowd and just live it out until graduation. But there's never a moment of peace with these jackasses. They’ve always got something to say. 

For a group of people who always like to tell Eddie how unimportant he is, they sure do take up a lot of their own time talking about him. 

It’s kinda funny, actually. 

Either way, Eddie was sick of it. He just wanted to get up there, give his oral, sit back down, and get on with his school day. He had a campaign to host tonight, and then band practice after that since Gareth was going up to Florida to visit his grandma on the weekend. So he was kind of thankful he got kicked out of class… maybe he was asking for it, he didn’t care. Now he could stand out here and smoke in peace, rather than getting balls of paper with studpid drawings or dumbass notes thrown at his head for the rest of class. 

Okay, scratch that, Eddie would prefer the bullying right now. 

From here, he had a clear view of the outdoor basketball courts. They were shitty and dinged up pretty well, the hoop no longer had a net on it - save for a singular ratty old string hanging down - and there were marks all over the backboard. The courts were mostly used by the freshman during lunchtime for dumb basketball, and as a safe ground for the science class when things were too dangerous to stand near or if they’d swell up and explode. 

But there, on the shitty courts, were Hargrove and Harrington. Two of the biggest dicks to ever grace the fine halls of Hawkins High. Eddie found their petty rivalry absolutely fucking hilarious. 

One minute ‘King Steve’s sitting all high and mighty on his throne, pretty girl on his arm, and then in walks Billy and threatens everything he stands for. 

Comedy fucking gold. 

Though, Eddie did start to feel a little sympathy for Steve about it. After having his first real interaction with Billy - a quick deal at his own goddamned school locker - he realised how much of a cunt he was. And jeez, for Steve to be Billy’s main target, he’s gotta be going through it. And not only that, but it seemed to be getting worse after Steve got dumped by Nancy Wheeler. God, that was the talk of the school for weeks. And now Steve had lost his crown and was like… nobody. Steve was actually getting heckled in the halls now - nowhere near as much as Eddie, but still. 

Yeah, maybe the little homoerotic rivalry between the two ‘Kings’ of Hawkins High wasn’t as funny as Eddie thought. 

Eddie hated when people noticed him when he wasn’t actively seeking attention, but he kinda wished Steve would. He didn’t even look at Eddie when he’d jump up on cafeteria tables anymore - which is definitely not the reason why Eddie has made this a tri-to-quater-weekly occurrence or anything - nothing. He wouldn’t pay him any mind. 

And yeah, okay, this was stupid. God it was so fucking stupid. Eddie knew that. He knew that better than anyone because why on fucking earth would the universe decide that Eddie the Freak had to trip and fall head over goddamn heels for Steve motherfucking Harrington? 

What had Eddie done - in this life or the last - that was so horrible to have deserved this fate? 

He hadn’t a clue. However, he did know it must have been utterly terrible because he’d been sporting these dumb feelings since Harrington's freshman year. Four years. For long years. 

And for what? 

He’s pretty sure they’ve spoken a total of (give or take) twenty words to one another in that time, and most of them would have been Eddie apologising for ‘accidentally’ bumping into Steve in the halls. 

Okay, the crush was dumb, super fucking dumb. Steve was a popular straight jock. But at least Eddie didn’t fall for one of his bullies. Sure, Hagan gave him a hard time just about every day, but Steve didn’t give him a word of it. He’d either just stand there with a bitchy look on his face (which Eddie often thought about when daydreaming in class… or other times), bored out of his mind, waiting for Tommy to finish, or, he’d be standing there with the girl he’d claimed that week and would either talk to or suck face with her. 

Eddie hated that last one. 

A lot of the time Eddie would zone out on Hagans ranting and stare oogily at Steve kissing whatever girl it was and imagine Steve would just push her away and storm over to Eddie and just… just fucking grab him and slam their lips together. It’d be like in the movies, you know? With… with some dramatic love song like Dream Weaver or some shit playing in the background, and there'd be cartoon hearts in Eddie’s eyes and stars floating around their heads. And maybe Steve would shove him up against the lockers and kiss him like it was the only thing he’d know how to do, and then they’d peel away and look at Tommy and just laugh at him - because Eddie can definitely see that Tommy’s feelings for Steve ran a little deeper than the best friendship he claimed it was. 

But that would never happen. 

Steve has never- and would never kiss Eddie, passionately or not. 

So now all he could do was stare.

He stared off at the basketball courts as Steve tried to steal the ball from Hargrove, watching the way his thick thighs moved in those tiny little shorts, the way his ass filled them out when he’d bend over, the way his biceps flexed when he’d managed to grab the ball and shoot, the way his hair would flop over his pretty eyes before it’d get swept back by his large hand that Eddie has also thought about… a lot. 

When Hargrove shoved at Steve's chest (like a good damned toddler who didn’t get their way) so hard he went skidding to the ground, Eddie had to fight the urge to just run over there and punch Billy’s lights out - though, if he were to do that it could be justified with about a million other reasons, but he wasn’t looking for another detention right now - and cradle Steve in his arms. To check if he was okay. To kiss all the parts that hurt. 

Lord, Eddie was so far gone over nothing. 

Absolutely nothing. 

He sucked on his cigarette and celebrated quietly to himself when Steve got back to his feet and shoved his shoulder aggressively into Billy’s before running to get the ball. He watched them fight over it again, and couldn’t help his smile as Steve made one of those goal things. You know… the one that’s made from the middle of the court. The big one. He couldn’t help the little blush in his cheeks as he watched Steve do a little happy dance, the wriggle of his hips as he shook his fists like he was holding maracas. Billy was not happy, and that seemed to make Steve even more proud. 

It made Eddie proud. 

Jesus. 

Why was he so set on this asshole? 

Why couldn’t he like someone a little more in his own league? I mean, he still probably wouldn’t get them then either, but he’d at least have a chance. 

You know the worst part about this is Steve's tendency to be a little bit of a whore. Because like, he gets around. Skull Rock - that was once Eddie’s escape and eventually smoking spot - was only deemed the ‘hookup spot’ after Steve took multiple girls there within the span of a month. So, like, Eddie has to see him with girl after girl after girl every week, and know that he’d never be one of those girls. 

He was a little ashamed to know that he’d spent a good few nights crying himself to sleep over it. 

It was hopeless, this crush. It was helpless too. Steve was beautiful. The most handsome man Eddie had ever seen, and always had been, and yeah he was an asshole - so was Eddie - but he wasn’t a cunt. 

Eddie didn’t understand why it stuck around so long. 

He sighed and sucked on his cigarette again, blowing the smoke out as he smiled at Steve's little happy dance one more time. Right as he was crushing the butt of his cig with his sneaker, Steve turned his head and looked at him. 

The smile that still lingered on Eddie’s lips dropped in an instant, and he swallowed the lump in his throat and ground his sneaker into his cigarette one more time so Steve would know he was out here for a smoke and not to perv… even though he definitely was.

Steve flashed him a small smile, the smile that he flashed teachers or past hookups or casual friends or just people he knew in the halls, and nodded his head once as a sort of ‘hey’, his hands perched on his hips as it was happening, his hair flopping back down over his eyes. He flicked his head back to clear his vision again, and then he turned back to Billy without so much of a second thought and crouched into ready position to get the ball again. 

Oh. 

That’s why. That’s why Eddie’s crush had never ended. 

Because every so often Steve would give him one of those ‘I know you, hey’ nods, or a tight lined ‘I just realised I was walking past someone I know’ smiles, and Eddie would melt. 

Eddie would melt so much because no one with Steves status would give those to Eddie. And he knew he was scraping for crumbs right now but that… oh, he recognised Eddie and he said hey, and- Oh, fuck! Eddie didn’t do it back… again. 

Jesus, he never fucking does. Always too distracted by Steve’s pretty features and the fact that he noticed him. 

Maybe Steve did notice him, sometimes.

Eddie just wished Steve would see him too. 

**

super late submission but whatever :) it's in before it's over and that's all that matters to me rn lol.

read Day Two here

\/ a dodgy art piece for this one \/

[townofcadence]

@sweet-chimera continue from x

Honey totally did not remember what happened a few nights ago. At least totally. She remembered to clean the trash, remember to fix the holes in her walls. But evidently. Did not remember to turn the forest security system back on. Considering the visitor she had knocking at her door. And this place looked, well. Wonderful? Like some old, rustic botanical garden instead of the frat house party it was just a few days ago. The nymphs one would blatantly remember, who were participating in the debauchery or letting people hit illicit substances off of their bodies, were walking about and tending to the garden. The living plants and, almost hauntingly beautiful women, disappearing and turning back into normal plants as Artair walked by. A normal, cottage core, garden...

"Knockin' oh-- ayye-- HEEEEEY. It's ye-- ah'm.... sorry. Tae party woos alot and. Ah doon't... wuite remember yer name... BOOT. T'ank ye so mooch fer comin' lad. Please, please, come on in, Have ye eaten yet? Ah'll make tea." Oh there's the motherly.

Honestly, he was enamored with the whole place the moment he arrived. He remembered the house, and almost wasn't sure he was in the right area without its presence. But the nymphs he recognized as part of the party, and the area looked similar enough-- how many other building could there be in the deep woods like this?

But this place-- it was beautiful. There was a sense of something primal about the land, magic, and he felt it thrum along his skin. It felt--- safe here.

And he can't help but feel that Honey must be some part of the reason why, when he's greeted so warmly. She says she doesn't know his name, but she invites him in to share a drink with such an openness he has to blink, before he starts and slips inside. "Hello mi-- Um--- hello. I'm Artair-- it's absolutely okay not to know that, you were really busy that night and I didn't want to get in the way. It was a fun time, though!"

His fingers play with the box as he follows her. "You don't have to make anything for me either, please don't feel pressured! I uh. Just wanted to thank you for inviting me here. And for keeping everything under control as the host and all. And maybe meet you now that there's.... not so many people here." He laughs. "I brought-- tea too, actually. I wasn't sure what you'd like, but it's a case of different kinds. As a thank you for running everything." He pauses. "I'm sure with everything you have here, your blends might be higher quality though--your garden outside is very beautiful."

[ladylooch]

This can be saved for flashback but it’s also kinda not a flashback haha it’s just a general question! And I’m sure you had talked about this before but was Timo brought up differently than how Nico and Emma were? Timo just seems to like the finer things in life and ofc Emma is bougie it just seems like Timo was raised that way. I feel like his parents were much more uptight and old money considering how they reacted to the Lio news. But I could be wrong I was just wondering!!

Although I haven't said this specifically before, it is heavily implied.

The Hischiers grew up quieter in a smaller town compared to the Meiers who were close to a big city. The Hischiers had a nurturing parenting style while the Meiers were more authoritative and concerned with outside perception. To put it simply, one was relaxed and one was uptight. This is funny because we definitely see this difference with Timo and Emma even when their kids are older. Emma can be more laid back while Timo gets a bit stuffy about certain things with the babies.

Timo grew up fancy and rich, but Emma is fancy from adulthood and making her own money. Emma started her own business out of university and quickly became successful thus started shifting towards the finer things in life. She also felt like she has to blend with her wealthy clients, so buying designer clothes and accessories, having a nice car, living in a wealthy part of the city- all feels like part of growing her business brand too. This is her preference though and she has a deep appreciation of wealth after growing up without it. Like the Hischiers were comfortable- safe, healthy, had the things that they needed- but it is nothing like the life Emma, and Nico, end up leading as adults.

It's so interesting how the differences in being raised had an impact on Timo's parents and their reaction to Emma being pregnant. Because at that point, Emma was wealthy enough on her own. She didn't need Timo's money. She could have raised Lio as a single mom and decked him out in designer everything, with fancy cars and houses. So his parents reaction like she was some money hungry whore was so off base. Wow, are the embarrassed about that when they realize Emma's success...

I have always had this vision that Emma helps host an event for Timo's mother's company after they smooth things over. The event ends up being so successful, one of the best they can remember, and it gets rave reviews from senior management. It's a really proud moment for Emma, and Timo too, to showcase her skill to someone who at one point didn't think she was worthy of her son.

[talldarkandroguesome]

4th of Frostfall, Fredas

What an amusing evening we had last night. It was the night of the meeting with the new Imperial prospect. There was a party at their inn, hosted by Tanur, as our parties with the mundanes tend to be.

I played the part of just another guest when I first arrived. I wanted to see how this Imperial would interact with the rest of the regulars and guests. They seemed to be ever bit the kindly proprietor. This was a good sign. They did not seem overeager for patrons, nor in a particular rush to get people out of their establishment. They were neither overly accommodating, nor crass, nor carry any particular attitude. The whole demeanor was ordinary through and through.

I searched their face and their features too, were rather ordinary. Not unhandsome, but not particularly beauteous either. Nondescript would be the best way to describe their looks. If one were to say, oh yes, I was walking down the street and saw a person, an Imperial I believe, the first thought that would enter your head would not be far off from the person standing before me.

Not wanting to interrupt their duties, I indulged in some of the frivolities. Tanur's selection of drinks was just above average, enough to make guests feel as though they were being treated well, but not enough to put off anyone of lesser means, nor to offend someone of a higher status. The food was of similar quality and I let myself have a bit of light fare before my usual cleansing ritual.

There is something about entering a den of carnal pleasures with the skin still slightly damp from clean water and a fresh sheen of perfumed oil. My special merdehkes daelheg blend., perfect for seduction. I let myself embody that personality. I feel my own sensual nature all the more with the scent of that oil on me. I am primed to do what I know is to be done.

I made myself into quite the spectacle, calling as many others to me as I could. Some of my spiderlings were present and they came with only the smallest glance. And as though falling under a trance, others took up the silent call. Soon I found myself in such a pile of bodies that I could not tell which of the many people there was in contact with which part of my own body. As the musicians played in the corner, the music reached to a crescendo as the mass of mortals, lost in the sway of their shared pleasure, moved like the ocean, together, in waves where one met the other.

It was so easy to give myself over to it. To fully release control over my own body. Before, even with drink and my own pleasure reaching an apex, I could never fully let my guard down. It was never safe enough. But being in this place, where I was surrounded by so many loyal spiderlings and with a measure of immortality, I could cede that last thread of control that I have feared losing for so long. And the ecstasy that flowed from me was palpable in the writhing pleasure of those around me.

It was a transcendent experience. For I felt as though each person who touched me, who I touched, warm, bare flesh pressed against the other, was taking away some of what I was experiencing, the sensation I felt was given to them in turn. And as each person felt that pleasure, it was passed along to the next and the next. So that soon the sounds of pleasure rose in the room like a chorus, a song of praise to my great Prince. And hearing the beauty of that melody, I pushed on, called with my will for the others to keep going, to remain in this pique of pleasure, longer and longer.

Excitement seemed to erupt from some throats around me, surprise that things continued. There was laughter, jovial and hearty. There were screams and moans of climax, woven amongst these as well. Yet the group did not disperse, did not cease. And just as I thought I surely could not continue any longer, another, deeper level of euphoria took hold. The musicians did not cease, for neither had those of us in the room, and I realized that at some point the song and the motion of bodies were in perfect harmony, aligned in a way I do not know if it could have been accomplished consciously.

Finally, there was a sense in the room that everyone could go on no longer and the music lulled and the bodies detangled from one another. And everyone, musician and guest alike, were painting and sweating and coated in the love we had all shared in that moment. Even still, there was laughter, as though no one could quite believe what had just happened. Murmurs between people seeming incredulous about their multiple releases buzzed in the air like wasps by a nest.

Tanur stood in the doorway looking mystified, his trousers unlaced and halfway off his hips. I gave him a slight grin and he came to my side, his body clearly ready to join in the frivolity he had just missed being a part of.

I could tell from a smear on his hip that he was likely engaged with someone or someones else when the sound must have drawn him to my room. He planted kisses along my collarbone and down my chest. I tipped up his chin to look at him with a small laugh and then gestured to my own flagging member, which clearly was not yet ready for more.

Ever one to take this as a challenge, he did his best to rouse me back to a state where he might find his own resolution. I gently guided him away and told him to have patience. He brought me some of the shein and some light fare and I let him feed me sensually, knowing that all it was doing was teasing him more.

Eventually, when I was well recovered, I let him indulge in the manner of his preference . Blaze joined as well, though I had not at first realized it was she who had joined us. I brought her to pleasure as well before we parted and I sought out the appointment room for my meeting with the Imperial.

I did not bother to get fully dressed. If the Imperial were going to be committing murder during such events, then nudity would hardly be something to be shy about. I knocked in the pattern given me and the door opened, the Imperial gesturing me inside.

They introduced themselves as Nole. I made my greeting and took the offered seat across from their desk, making myself overly familiar in my tone and draping myself over the proffered furnishing.

We spoke for a while and I could tell they were watching me with a very calculating eye. I assume they saw much and so had many questions that they longed to ask, but were too afraid to risk asking.

When I asked about the plan for the murder they were to carry out that night, they informed me that it was already taken care of and the body waiting for people to vacate in order to be disposed of.

I was disappointed in myself that I had missed seeing or hearing this take place. Yet I could guess at what point it may have occurred that I had done so.

When we seemed to come to an understanding, I reached across the desk with my hand outstretched, as if to shake their arm in the symbol of a pact made.

They took my hand and in doing so, I saw their past crimes. Murder. Several times, in fact. Always seemingly justified.

Yet I did not see anything to do with the Dark Brotherhood and Nole did not seem to have felt me seeing into their mind when we touched.

I smiled and offered them to join us at an after party. I said, it was a sort of tradition when sealing deals.

If nothing else, I figured we could simply kill Nole and forge transfer of the deed and make it look like they had returned to Cyrodill.

I was glad it did not come to that. In fact, as soon as the short challenge began, Nole seemed to be very excited.

When I created in flames one of their murders, they looked at first embarrassed, then proud when others seemed to be nodding approvingly. I do not know how to describe it, but they just felt like they belonged. There was a certain rightness to their being with the others, who were robed and hooded at that point.

And then they asked how to join us and I, feeling emboldened by all that had occurred, pressed on with the initiation at their insistence. I did make sure to explain who we served and offer them an out, but they seemed excited by the prospect. They said how after seeing the display at the party, they were not surprised to see what Prince we served, though they had wondered if we followed Sanguine.

I took no offense at this, only laughed. The mirth of our group as they welcomed a new member was higher than I had anticipated. They seemed to all be very excited, truly pleased.

And so we moved into our usual celebration for the new moon. We had prayer and all the offerings. I pulled Nole aside then to tell them that they should choose a name for use in the group. It was a safety measure. That they should let no one else know their true name. They asked for time to think on it and I granted this, of course. I also let them know that they would have space made for them in the Nest, should they have a need or desire to spend time there.

Then I had my time with Zethith and discussed the new member and they granted the enchantment of entrance to Nole.

It was after that meeting that Tanur asked for a reward. He seemed to think that having recruited someone new, he deserved another reward.

I want him to be happy, so I obliged.

I have no desire to return to Mournhold just yet. Let me have a day to rest. The Three know I could use it after last night.

[mememydid]

A Reintroduction, Of Sorts

Thought we might do this (Especially since the other Hosts never REALLY did an introduction)

Hello! This is the host of the Apocalypse System, formerly known as the Chameleon System, Scorsese. I am nineteen years old. I am 4'11 (Same height as the body), I have blonde hair, blue eyes, and freckles but they are faint. I use they/them and she/her pronouns (Or it/its if you're up for it). Some of my favourite resturants are Dennys, Taco Bell, Subway, and Texas Roadhouse but I'm sure we all know that's just for the rolls and butter. My favourite colour is green.

There are currently 248 alters in our system including dormant alters as of our latest head counts, but that number may be incorrect due to fusions that I am unaware of.

We originally went as the Chameleon System because at the time we were trying to all blend as the "host" which was a made up persona that the host portrayed, but we are much more comfortable and confident with showing our symptoms in day-to-day life. It was also a childhood nickname from a friend that we no longer speak too, so it felt too sad to continue being our name. (Feel free to steal that name though, we were so proud coming up with it and how perfectly it fit into DID.)

Our current innerworld is separated into five parts connected by portals. The red portal leads to Past, a medieval appearing area with lakes and forests, with a castle that floats in the sky. The blue portal leads to Future, where there are skyscrapers and superheroes. The purple portal leads to The Witch World, which is a small town similar to Halloween town, where our spiritual and otherworldly alters prefer to live/hang out. The black portal leads to The Place (The most recently discovered area) which is mostly black with lights illuminating important objects, and rooms similar to the backrooms that resemble vague half-remembered memories from our childhood. And the green portal leads to The Apocalypse, which is just a wasteland with zombies.

Our innerworld does have NPCs, and it's changed drastically over the course of our childhood.

We are currently employed as a scare actor.

Our dream is to live off the grid miles away from our current home.

I wish to be an author someday. (Working on it!)

Feel free to send in a number one through 248 and we'll make a fun game of properly introducing everyone that way. (Unless said alter asks not to be talked about, there are some that aren't comfortable being online.)

[bitchin-witchin]

You know I myself talk about and see often discussion of foul legacy as a separate entity with its own conscience that's invaded-- infected/whatever variant of that you want-- him. Usually childes control is written to fail in face of the abyss' influence, but what if inhabiting each other has resulted them becoming so entwined that they are one in the same. The tell between where one begins and the other ends gradually becomes impossible for them to find. Ajax, childe, tartaglia is foul legacy just as much as foul legacy is him. Go beyond the mental even. Their physical forms begin to merge into each other.

Thought about this bc of mecha content where the pilots and mechs mesh from being linked for so long.

I do love foul legacy as not something conscious or having freewill though. Like some sort transformstion learned through abandoned magic arts or something idk. Could still be a parasite if you wanted too. Giving its host a power up to ensure is survival and propagation hdhfnf. BAH it's just so fun to think about the different directions you could take it. I've just never thought of the meshing idea with this like mecha perspective where it becomes gradual and is also kind of like mutual? Like it's a result of wanting to understand each other better or become stronger together, then u end up just blending into the same guy :3 so I'm sure it's nothing new and plenty of people have thought about it xD. Which if u have tho plsss feel free to add ur ideas and such to this post I'd love to hear about it :3

[valyalyon]

November 1, 2024

Raphael has arrived! This is the first scene I wrote for this story, it is very long. Changing post formats, this format will be the new norm :)

Please enjoy and see below for more Dreams, Ink and Embers.

DIE MASTER LIST OR #LYONDIE

That’s how it all started. Just a stupid party, just too many good drinks, the lights, the feeling of his hands, my dress coming off, then the crash onto the bed.

CW: explicit sexual content, “one night stand”, sex while both parties are intoxicated, unprotected sex, dubious consent.

It was all the breaths, all the whiskey enhanced kissing, the way he gripped my neck, the way our bodies collided.

I don’t even think I recognized him then, a part of me just knew him to be somebody else. Somebody that I met, somebody that I met a long time ago, in a dream some decade ago. In the dream he touched me the same way, made me feel all the same. And in the complicated coldness in between us, a fire was festering below the surface.

In all reality I’d only known him what? Six years. He never touched me before but he had a way with words in every stupid situation we’d find each other in. He always knew how to aggravate me, distort my way of thinking, make me lose all patience. And despite us never admitting it, we were sharing an awful secret that neither of us knew where it came from.

The secret? He was a man I could not have and I was a woman he could not have. In some destitute other world, we are each others, but here we stand with a divide in between us. Maybe he didn’t know why he wanted me so badly, I definitely knew why I wanted him though. Dreams play too grand a part in my life.

The night of the party was a different story. The party was for Halloween, a friend’s celebration of it. Only thing was that he was hosting it at his house. Normally I would’ve declined an invitation to be anywhere near him, but that night something came over me. I hadn’t told anyone I’d go, but made sure I had all the information correct to show up that day.

It was a costume party and no one was allowed in without a costume. Lucky enough for me, he over invited and way more people showed up, meaning that when I arrived I was able to just blend in with the crowd and disappear if need be. To be completely honest, not much was hidden, but I was wearing a skimpy princess mini dress with a tiara and a masquerade mask.

I wasn’t blending in awfully since everyone was dressed up and most of the girls were skimpy too.

Anyway, the next little bit is a blur because I smoked some pot and started going around drinking alcohol from the kitchen bar. i knew I shouldn't be mixing my alcohol and pot but I got crossfaded pretty often and had an idea of my limits.

Well, eventually I decided to sit at the kitchen island and just have a drink (on my second) and chill there for a bit and people watch. Julius was at this party and I was trying to avoid him too for the most part.

I don't think I recognized the man who until this point has gone nameless — his name is Raphael — even when he came up to me. He was wearing some black jeans and a red top that looked just a little too small for him, but I traced my eyes along his arms and muscles and then face and nothing clicked. it was like I had never seen him before in my life.

For years I spent them hating and arguing with this man, but now he was sitting beside me at the kitchen island and the whole party seemed to come to a slow. All of a sudden it felt like the alcohol came to overtake me.

He asks me who I am, says that the no face masks rule applies, and says I gotta take off my mask and show myself to him.

It feels almost like a joke. Even though I don’t recognize him, I still fight back with the usual anger, "Face masks shouldn't apply for half naked Princesses, sir. plus you're not the boss of the party. i know the guy hosting it and it ain't you.

He seemed to pause for a second, not sure what must have been going through his mind but he starts to smile. He leans towards me and asks, “want more whiskey?” He reaches for the bottle and starts to pour a little more into my cup, then some into a cup for himself.

“Thank you,” I told him, and then took the whole shot down in one gulp. I don’t know what came over me but I wanted to prove myself to him. I didn’t want him thinking he could walk all over me. I’d already experienced men like him before, “Shouldn’t approach women you don’t know demanding they show you their face. Sounds a bit creepy.”

He let out a laugh and took his shot, adding another to my cup and another to his, “fine. What if we go to one of the rooms and you show me your face there? I’m in charge of the doors and I gotta make sure you’re on his list. No one else has to see you though.”

Taking my now 4th shot I looked at him. Again my eyes ran over him for a second and I thought to myself “could I fight him off of me?” The idea of following this stranger into a private room was so out of this world insane but, there was just something different about this man. I kept thinking he seemed so familiar but like I had known him when I was a child and hadn’t seen him since. I finally answered agreeing to follow him into a room.

I thought how I was glad that this stranger was helping me, that I didn’t wanna be kicked out of this party for not complying with the host’s rules, and here they were letting me keep my identity a secret as long as they could confirm who I am.

To get to the room he took my hand and let me up the stairs of the house through crowds of people. I kept thinking that there were so many people there it was crazy that Raphael would have invited all those people.

Mind you, as the man is taking me to the room I still have no inclination that he is Raphael. I’ve never once touched Raphael. But in that moment he was touching me, holding my hand and pulling me around all the strange people. I felt like a doll to this man but I couldn’t pull away. I wanted him to know who I was.

Inside the room was another story entirely. As soon as we entered he asked, “could you take off your mask for me?”

I unlace my mask from the back and drop it into my hands. My eyes meet his again and yet again I am left breathless but unaware. I still do not recognize him.

“You’re definitely on the list,” he said under his breath. He hands me my cup and pours me another shot, then another for himself. He downs his first, I down mine as he starts to turn to me.

His hand falls on my thigh, his fingers move along my inner thigh, “I’ve been wanting to touch you since you walked past me. You didn’t even look in my direction. You ignored me and hugged some random.”

“How do you know they were random?” I asked trying to keep the distance between us but only feeling myself grow closer to him as he starts to spread my legs.

“You should only be around me don’t you think? Look at you and look at me, we’re on fire. This world is ours…” his fingers loop into the sides of my underwear.

He yanks and pulls down my panties, taking them off my feet. He makes eye contact with me as he gets closer to my pussy, his fingers move with a mind of their own. He starts using my body as his own play toy. I feel his fingers creep inside of me and all I can do is gasp.

"I don't just hook up with strangers," I told him, my hand tracing up his arm, trying to find the strength to push him off of me. Since the moment my eyes had fallen on him, I knew it was over but I was really trying to catch enough courage to ignore my desires.

It all seemed to good to be true, like he and I were not supposed to ever have met, and that least of all we weren't supposed to meet like this. This stranger being Raphael was something I couldn't wrap my head around, couldn't even in see in the stranger's eyes the uncanny anger that Raphael always festered in me. He just seemed to have come out of a dream, and I was trying to fight it.

He didn't seem to adhere to my gentle touches or incoherent begs, he just took one hand and placed it on my thigh, spreading my legs as his other hand continued to finger me. When my legs were open, he took his free hand and started to lift up my dress just a little at a time, "we don't have to be strangers."

Little moans by this point were escaping from my mouth. I had only known two other people that had been able to understand that my hesitation never meant no, it always meant convince me. While I never would encourage that behavior from other women, I knew myself to be a coy little fairy playing games with those that wanted me.

My rejection, my no's, were all encouragement to be cruel-er to me, to step on my toes and make me beg for you to continue. But here this strange man was, immediately recognizing what I needed from him. He made eye contact with me as his two fingers continued to thrust inside of me, my ass was now out in the air, my dress bunched at my waist, my tits absolutely throbbing from the heat that we were creating.

"How about this?" he asked, lifting me in one go off the floor and laying me down on the bed. He hovered over me, holding me down with his big hands, as he said, "how about... instead of us being strangers," his fingers started moving a little rougher inside of me, "I spell my name out for you."

"Spell... spell it out then!" I half shouted at him, in between moans and louder gasps. I made eye contact with him and realized he was only an inch from my face. I could smell the whiskey on his breath, I could feel the weight he was putting on me. I watched his lips, waiting for him to speak, but instead...

He went down. he kneeled down on the floor at the edge of the bed, and pressed his lips against my pussy. He started writing with his tongue inside of me, I clutched onto his hair, his free hand finished lifting my dress off me and he let it rest against my neck as the free hand began to squeeze and grope my tits.

"This is not... this is not... I don't know what you're spelling!" I moaned loudly and felt my vision spinning. I could hear the music outside thumping so loud the whole floor was shaking, but I thought it was the orgasms. One by one, my body began to let out orgasm after orgasm. Not entirely sure if he finished a letter, finished his name, or what, but my body would convulse and shake as cum began to slip down.

After about three minutes and several full body orgasms that left me almost mute, he picked his head up and I felt his free hand reach down in between us. He pressed his jeans to my opening, and I could feel his bulge squeezing the fabric of his jeans.

He continued to finger me as he rubbed himself against my clit, my eyes opened and I followed the path from his eyes down to his neck down to his arms, down to his pants. "Now that you know my name there shouldn't be a problem. I want to be inside of you. I want to feel you squeeze around me." He told me, his eyes gazing down at me with something like a volcanic fire that I had never seen before. He was confident, but his body, his eyes, his soul were all so violently on fire and frantic and it seemed like he knew me from a dream, too.

I knew this was the time to stop, I knew that if there was any moment to make it all end, I'd have to do it now. But, I didn't want it to end. All my life I had chased after the feelings from that dream, and now here the man was in front of me making me feel all those things. I didn't want to give it up, I wanted to play, I wanted to feel him. My hands made their way to his shirt, and pulling it from the bottom I got it off his body and I examined his bare chest.

The muscles were tight and big, and just his bicep alone was the size of my head. I felt like he could have his way with me even if I wasn't consenting, but it felt so good to see that he was letting me choose how I wanted it. My hands ran along his chest and then down to his belt, and I looked up at him again, "maybe we just... make this quick, pretend it never happened later. Just one moment that we never have to experience again."

He took off his belt for me, and put my hands securely together, wrapping and locking the belt around them. Quickly he reached down and unzipped his pants, letting them fall, and then he took his underwear and slid it off. He stood in front of me, one hand still fingering me furiously while the other hand began to stroke his cock.

When I finally looked at it I was excited and happy. He looked to be about 8 inches, rock hard and ready to perform, I looked back into his eyes as I felt the tip of his cock get pressed up to my clit, then I feel it slide down as he slips his fingers out of my hole. With his dick now throbbing at my entrance, I let out a quiet moan and reach out to kiss him. My arms are tied and I try to fight the restraints, but I move closer to him. I wanted to feel him.

He kissed me while starting to push his cock into me. The world seemed to slow down again like it had earlier. I felt pain immediately, his dick was big and my body was very small. While his kisses stifled me, I was still able to let out of a moan cry, feeling him slip deeper into me. He kept my legs nice and spread with his body, and just slowly slipped his throbbing erection into me.

His kisses only got harder when I got louder. His hands only got greedier, the more I tried to escape from his restraint. He began to pound in a rhythm, rubbing my clit while being inside my pussy. The feeling was magical. I was crying into his mouth, letting out louder and louder moans the more he inflicted on me. He seemed to just know me and my body, but I could have sworn I'd never met him in my life and his cunnilingus spelling did nothing to enlighten me.

My hips started moving to his rhythm, my body gave in so easy to him. He threw my dress off my neck and wrapped his hand around my neck instead. I was breathless without his kisses, I was staring up at him with an open mouth as he just continued to choke me. The feeling of his hips crashing into mine as I squeezed his cock inside of me made me feel nearly feral. We were like animals.

From there it all got rougher, got harder, he would smack me across the face and then kiss me, he would turn me over and spank me so hard I could've sworn there were marks, then he would fuck me from behind, pulling my hair and choking me. I kept up with him through it all, though my moans got louder, and with it I could barely tell if he was enjoying himself because he was pretty silent, but when he flipped me onto my back, climbed onto the bed with me, and pulled me close into his arms I knew he enjoyed it.

In that moment, squeezing my ass and slamming his cock into me, he came. He pushed as deep as possible, and I couldn't help but think that I had just let a stranger bust in me. I felt him pulsating as he came, and he continued letting out small thrusts to make sure all his nut was out.

I knew that I should stand, that I should leave, but he kissed me again, and against my better judgement I stayed. He kissed my neck and left hickies, sucked on my breast, and continued to fuck me. At first it was slower, and I could feel his semen and my cum compiling together inside of me, but soon he was back to going harder, meaner, and I was overflowing with our juices.

I don't remember how long it lasted. It could have been an hour, or five, but I knew he came three times, and each time he didn't pull out. It was like he was doing it on purpose, but I never told him to pull out. The more he came the more I wanted, but, eventually my body and brain tired out and I started to feel myself dozing off. He didn't even ask if we were stopping, he just pulled out of me and went to the bathroom connected to the room.

When he came back he began to clean me, and he helped me into my dress again. I was quite sleepy, my head barely staying up, and I kept opening my eyes to look at him. He was getting dressed and I kept noticing his dark hair and dark eyes. I wondered if I did know him, but I still couldn't put my finger on it.

"Good night, Dolores," he said, giving me a kiss and touching my back gently. He seemed so cautious over me all of a sudden, but it wasn't unwarranted.

"Wait," I called out as I saw him begin walking to the door, "stay with me until I fall asleep... Please."

He moved my hair out of my face and kissed my head, "alright." Then I felt him sit down beside me on the bed.

I scooted into him, thought for a second that I hadn't told him my name, wondered how he knew it, and then I passed out with my head on his lap.